#holding the fates of the men they're in charge of over their head

[galedekarios]

ngl i'm starting to side-eye hades 2 with how they appear to handle the whole circe, odysseus and penelope stuff.

like i hope it's just the unreliable narrator aspect of the game, but...

[vasito-de-leche]

iff its still alright for requests then maybe somethingg small n maybe sleepy with forget me not ? nothing specific otherwise just

sleepy eeby forget me not fic. either that or wrangling his soggy ass to sleep(for once

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "five minutes"

Forget Me Not x Reader. 2.8k words fluff Being in charge of The Walden has its ups and downs - Forget Me Not enjoys being the conductor of an orchestra composed of dying men and women, even if it costs him hours of precious sleep. You make sure to remind him that even the most powerful broker in Chicago deserves a little nap.

this mf has been fighting me for a month or so, it's so hard to write him SLEEPING, HE RLLY DOESNT WANT TO. I HAVE 3 DIFFERENT DRAFTS GRAAAA so here we are. I fought tooth and nail for this, theres 4 different drafts just about FMN getting some fucking sleep. this one even has like, a different version where you fall asleep on his lap instead bc he keeps FIGHTING ME

either way, ty for the request, nonnie! your ask was the perfect excuse to get this done. sorry it ended up being longer than my usual stuff, I just really love the guy

The amount of work needed to maintain an establishment like The Walden often goes unnoticed.

Its elegant ambience and decor, all the powerful and influential people to rub shoulders with, the precise and meticulous organization behind every single detail and decision - all of it can be attributed to a single man, the very same who leads the crowd and makes their drinks.

When the night arrives, he and The Walden come alive.

Hundreds of desperate rats crawl into his den, searching for things they don't deserve: money, fame, fortune, connections, assets. They want to find their place in the world before they're long forgotten, and this is when Forget Me Not steps onto the stage and finds himself in his element, surrounded by all the people who look at him in fear, disgust and awe.

Do they know? That at the end of the world, he holds their fate in the palm of his hand? Him, a simple broker, a middle man.

An inferior, an arcanist.

Of course, the high fades as soon as the sun rears its ugly head over the horizon, his spirits plummet to the ground when the world returns to that monotonous routine. All Forget Me Not can do now is wait.

He would never dream of being so careless as to have his own residence right above his workplace, but he rarely steps into his home in the first place. It's too much trouble to commute back and forth, wasting time in a building that is as devoid of warmth as the blood running through his veins. That private office nestled somewhere within The Walden has become his new safe haven, in fact - with one too many couches to lounge around and no bed in sight.

Not that he sleeps anyway.

Forget Me Not always fancied the most convoluted route into an early grave, and thus has replaced the bottle for something else: endless paperwork.

It's getting harder and harder to conceal the dark bags under his eyes for a semblance of professionalism. How very fitting that, despite all of his efforts and accomplishments, his quality of life continues to deteriorate. What a depressing thought.

The leather of his seat squeaks as he shifts, leaning backwards to fully take in the piles and piles of files atop his desk. His gaze turns to the clock just to confirm what he already knows - it's a little past 6 AM, the cold breeze of the early morning keeping him wide awake. A brand new shipment of materials will arrive in two hours, they will need to be stored but it's an easy enough job for the Disciples. This means that the next important event on his schedule is the meeting at 11 AM. Forget Me Not's face sours right away at the thought, and he reaches for his drink.

And just like that, without any sort of warning, the door to his office is flung open. It's a good thing that despite his awful, awful health, his grip is as steady as ever - not a single drop is spilled. If else, Forget Me Not remains still as a statue, retaining that air of composed aloofness as he raises an inquisitive eyebrow towards the intruder.

It's you, standing perfectly by his door frame. He almost drops the glass once he recognizes your face, but conceals his little slip by settling it back down on his desk.

"Ah, how rare to see you during the day, you're always so busy with errands. To what do I owe this loud, impromptu visit? Keep in mind, I don't start serving drinks until 8 PM."

You don't wait for him to finish, marching towards the small lounge in his office and picking up a small, decorative pillow before dropping backwards onto one of the sofas. A shadow passes over Forget Me Not's eyes - he doesn't know whether to resent you for knowing you have the freedom and privilege to act like this around him, or whether to feel insulted for the way you ignored him just now. He settles for his usual third, secret option - resignation - and makes his way towards you.

Unlike you, Forget Me Not has mastered the art of concealing his presence and so he makes no sound at all when he approaches. He stands right next you, leaning ever so slightly to hover above your face, as if his piercing grey eyes alone could pressure you into speaking.

It doesn't work, at least not right away. You hide behind that useless pillow, then you shift and turn to lay on your side, all while he simply stands in perfect silence. It's a battle of attrition, one he intends to win.

"I slept like shit, okay? Just give me five minutes here and I'll go back to work." Your voice is muffled, but he hears how tired you are anyway.

It's easy to forget that people aren't nocturnal like him, at least not by choice. It's easy to forget about humanity when most of his coworkers are puppets held by strings and ink, mindlessly following orders. When you curl up on the sofa, Forget Me Not remembers just how tired he is and sighs. Soon, he's walking towards the door.

This makes you sit up in a hurry, clearly misinterpreting his actions. "Five minutes, promise! Don't kick me out!"

There's a faint click, it's the lock on the door. Forget Me Not returns to his desk, making sure not to look your way lest his eyes reveal those wretched feelings bubbling in his chest. Did you seriously think he had the nerve to throw you out so carelessly?

"Ten minutes. Make sure not to waste them with chitchat." He can practically sense you silently cheering and getting comfortable in his office. On his couch. It's insufferable, the way you always get what you want while he slaves away with work.

But it's only ten minutes, he can tolerate you for that long.

Three minutes pass, and Forget Me Not realizes that he's spent more time glancing your way than reading the document in front of him.

From his spot, he can only see the top of your head, just a glimpse of your form as you rest your eyes. But every time you move, no matter how subtle, he notices and turns his attention back onto you.

Seven minutes, he only needs to focus for seven minutes. The document in his hand is important: he's negotiating for better materials for his potions at a cheaper cost. This simple deal could mean a lot for Manus Vindictae, always so low on funds, resources and support.

Six minutes. Forget Me Not hears you hum and he slowly turns his head on instinct. You're staring right at him, face resting on the armrest, squishing your cheek against the plush cushions.

"You have four minutes left, are you sure you want to waste them like this?" He lies, as if he wasn't ready to ignore the passage of time to give you a few more extra minutes, expecting you to comply. But you get back at him with a question of your own.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Three minutes." It comes out as a warning. You ignore it.

"I'm serious! You look awful from here." By now, you're sitting down and he knows that if he doesn't stop you, you'll make your way to him. To invade his personal space, cradle his face in your hands and torture him with your gentle touch. "You're always here when I start my shift and when I finish. Where do you get the time to go home and all of that?"

Forget Me Not would rather swallow his own tongue than to openly admit that he essentially lives here. That he has spare clothes in the drawer by the window, that he showers, eats and sleeps in this office of his. You might've figured it out by now, but with his pride and dignity at stake, he pretends to ignore you in favour of work.

"Hey, c'mon. Don't just go back to work like I'm not even here talking to you!" He does exactly that, picking up a pen to sign a few documents. "Drop that. Drop the pen. Hey!"

You talk to him the same way one would talk to a misbehaving dog, and he hears that whiny, frustrated tone in your voice that he's come to appreciate. There is a pause and Forget Me Not does as told - the pen now resting neatly on the desk.

He finally deigns himself to look at you, returning a small smile.

"Thank you, now, like I was saying-"

Thud!

With his free hand, he stamps a document, never breaking eye contact. The pettiness is always worth it, but this time even more so when he sees that tic in your eye and the way you inhale sharply, absolutely done with him. You sit up, consider laying down again in frustration, then simply cross your arms like a child throwing a tantrum - seeing you get worked up over the smallest of things is always such a treat.

"Fine! Be like that! But don't come running when you- Uwaaah!" A yawn interrupts your words, you barely have time to cover your mouth.

Oh no. It's contagious. He feels that tell-tale tingle in his nose, and just like that, he yawns as well.

"Aha! You are tired, I bet you haven't slept properly in days!" An accusatory finger is now pointed at him, and Forget Me Not fights the impulse to roll his eyes.

"That's quite the leap to make over a simple gesture like that. Your time is up, by the way - please, go back to work."

"I'm telling on you, Forget Me Not. I'm so telling on you."

He gives a raspy laugh at this. "And who will you be telling about my horrible sleeping habits? The waiters? The delivery boy? Our esteemed guests?" The latter would definitely eat up any sort of information about his private life, especially if it was something to ruin his reputation, but he doesn't share this out loud.

"Ahh... So, you admit it, then? Having the worst sleeping schedule known to mankind?" Touché.

Before he can even reply, your mouth opens in a feigned yawn and Forget Me Not seethes when he finds himself imitating you. He seethes even more over the smug smile on your face. And he wishes he could just die on the spot when you scoot over and pat the empty seat next to you. Him? Rest? With you? Absolutely not.

"Ten minutes," a tight knot forms in his throat when you start to coax him in. "I'm sure you can spare that much, since you've been indulging me for this long! If you were actually busy, you would've just sent me home to rest. C'mere, sit."

What is the point in keeping track of time by now? Forget Me Not will be by your side until you decide to leave. Indulging you and your stupid ideas, your well-meaning and annoying habits, your reactions - all of it, they're his favorite vice and he never learned how to quit.

"Five minutes." He sits next to you.

"Fair enough." You scoot closer to him.

He watches when you link your arm with his, not bothering to ask for permission. Typical. Your palm is warm as you rest it over his forearm, fingers drumming idly over the soft fabric of his shirt. But you don't linger for too long, and slide down until your index and middle fingers reach the bare skin of his inner wrist, over the pronounced vein there. Can you feel his pulse? The shameless and frantic beat of his heart?

Forget Me Not is so entranced by this simple action that he fails to notice the sudden extra weight - your head rests on his shoulder, with your cheek pressed against the prominent bone. He knows it's an uncomfortable position, because you shift and nuzzle closer to his chest, the top of your head and your hair now tickling his neck and jawline. The knot in his throat returns and he holds his breath on instinct, like an animal at the verge of being devoured.

Nevermind the constant cycle of violence and doom he's turned his life into, these are the horrors that keep Forget Me Not up at night: your body against his, your displays of affection.

"Your eyes," the soft murmur of your voice pulls him from the awful, nonsensical noise in his mind. You're looking up at him. "You're meant to close them. That's what this whole thing is for. Unless ...you can sleep with your eyes open?"

"Don't be ridiculous. As if such a short amount of time could make me fall asleep." He huffs, a way to conceal just how out of breath he is. Part of him is afraid to close his eyes, knowing that he will feel each and every little thing you do - only tenfold. And what would he do with himself then, when all he can focus on is your finger tracing shapes over his palm? It tickles. It's distracting. It's unbearable.

His hand flinches, just barely, and you interlock your fingers with his in response.

"Hush and close them!" Always so obedient to your commands, Forget Me Not does as told, cursing you in his mind.

He gives you an inch, and you take a mile - the moment his eyes are closed, his body turns rigid but you still coax him backwards, so that he can lean on the backrest of the couch. It takes the coordinated effort of every single muscle in his body not to melt on the spot, to remain in a proper, sitting position. With you nestled so comfortably by his side, Forget Me Not makes the worst mistake in his life: he turns his head towards you, his nose now buried in your hair.

The content and pleased noise that leaves him is something that feels alien, entirely out of character for someone like him. Right away, he feels the tips of ears burning with shame and his body uselessly recoils away from you, trying to revert back into that persona he's created for the world.

It backfires immediately.

"...Hm? Is your arm getting numb? Here, let's switch." You move away, all while your hands cradle his face in order to guide him over to your lap.

It's a painfully slow process that is simultaneously over in the blink of an eye. Forget Me Not doesn't know what's worse, the fact that he didn't put up a fight or the way he feels so incredibly small, being held so lovingly by you.

He's laying on his back, hands resting uselessly over his chest like a corpse in an open casket funeral. If he glances upwards (a difficult thing to do, because you flick his forehead whenever you catch him wide awake) he can see you hoarding all the pillows available within your reach to support you as you lounge about, still hellbent on sleeping in with him.

Did he die at some point throughout the day without noticing? Is this his own personal Hell? Forget Me Not wants to speak, to say anything and regain control of the situation, but nothing comes out. All there is to do is to lay there, with your hands combing through his hair.

His heart might as well burst out of his chest. Even better, crawl up his throat and choke him from inside out.

Without thinking, he sits up. It's a nervous impulse. You can't see his face with his back turned to you and he's grateful for the small moment of privacy, as he steels himself to send you away. Or to fuck off into The Walden and walk around aimlessly to cool off, and then avoid you for a few weeks. Whichever comes first.

"Oh! Want a pillow or something? I kind of just took them all without thinking." He doesn't deserve this sort of contact, this domestic bliss - he doesn't want it either.

"Hey, do you think we could do this more often? Just... make some time for me in that busy schedule of yours?" And why would he? You're already pretty skilled at turning his life upside down with your constant nagging and your antics.

"Sorry for being this sappy so suddenly, it just came to mind...Oh, oh! Wait! While you're at it, mind closing the window, please? It's getting a liiittle cold in here."

Forget Me Not leaves his glasses on the table and lays back down, this time making sure to wrap his arms as tightly as he can around your waist, his face hidden in your stomach. What he receives is a weak chuckle, a weak complaint and a weak attempt at pushing him away. You don't mean it, of course - the same way he never means any of the things he thinks.

"Hm, I believe it's perfect like this."

"You're just saying that because you're going to leech off my own body heat, you little snake."

There's a hint of victory in your voice, you've won once again against him but you're always too nice to rub it in. Instead, you caress the scales on his neck, now on full display for you. It's a heavenly sensation.

"Perhaps," he murmurs, eyes closed. "But what are you going to do? Kick me out of my own office?"

"I might if you don't get some rest. Sleep, now."

And just like that, Forget Me Not unravels - he's been waiting so long to be given permission, for someone to allow him a moment of peace despite all these restraints holding him back.

He knows that the moment wakes up, he will act like none of this happened, that he will stubbornly deny everything until his very last breath, but right now, he clings onto you like his life depends on it.

And he falls asleep with your name on his lips

[rd0265667]

Karina x Reader: A Star Wars Story

(Star Wars AU, post order 66. Also, not everything I wrote is according to canon, things were changed)

Permanent Taglist: @cwpiqwon @justme-idle

A/N: This is me just indulging in writing star wars and lightsaber fights lmao

Non star wars fans, BBY means Before Battle of Yavin. Think of it as BC. Important because years come in later

19 BBY

On the planet of Naevis, the stars twinkled brightly, but one shone through the night sky, falling to the ground. An escape pod, a girl cowering in the corner as she clutched her lightsaber close to her chest.

Karina was excited. She was looking forward to heading back to Coruscant for her trials to become a Jedi Knight, a rite of passage she was honoured to go through. Walking to the deck of the Venator Class Star Destroyer, she was accompanied by her Master, who had been guiding her in the ways of the force and being a Jedi, and behind them was Commander Tyras, in charge of the 29th Battalion. "General Bae, the Fleet is ready to jump into hyperspace." Tyras said, standing at attention next to Karina's master "For the last time Tyras, Joohyun or Irene is fine. Also, once we jump into hyperspace and reach Coruscant, tell the guys drinks are on me, they've worked hard." Irene said with a smile, patting Tyras on the back, who chuckled. "Alright General Irene, I'm sure the boys would love to hear that." Tyras said, before walking to the operator as Irene rolled her eyes, smiling as she bumped Tyras playfully From the side, Karina chuckled, observing the interaction. Her master was well known amongst the clones for being compassionate and caring, not only that, but was close with and cared for all her troopers, arguably as close as General Skywalker and the 501st.

Suddenly, a weird shift occured in the room, as Karina and her Master recoiled, both sensing something wrong in the force, Karina's master turning to her with a confused look, as Commander Tyras pulled out a comm pad.

"The time is now Commander Tyras. Execute Order 66."

The mechanical whirrs of rifles began priming around the two Jedi, both feeling a shift in the force, the light being snuffed out. Turning around, Irene noticed Tyras with his rifle to her, looking in confusion, before raising her lightsaber, deflecting the blaster bolt away, as she force pushed Tyras into the wall, knocking him out, dispatching the operator as well, before rushing to shut the blast doors.

"That door won't hold." She mumbled to herself, as she turned to Karina, still confused at what had just happened. "What's going on Master?" Karina asked, Irene shaking her head, pain searing through her head as the force alerted her to the fates of her Jedi comrades across the Galaxy. "I am unsure, Karina, but the clones have turned their backs on us, and I sense this is not an isolated incident. We must leave. We need to get to safe ground, and I'll reestablish communications with the Jedi Council. Come." Irene said, gesturing to Karina as they both ignited their lightsabers, taking a deep breath. The men they were about to kill were friends, once upon at least. As the blast doors open, blue and green lightsabers ignited as Irene and Karina fought through the star destroyer, their time fighting in the clone wars long preparing them for such a confrontation. As they finally reached the escape pods, the two of them saw 40 troopers waiting for them, overwhelming them as they were forced into a corner. What's worse was what Irene saw when she tried to catch her breath. "They've shot the fuel exhaust. The ship's going to explode... they're willing to kill themselves just to get us!" Irene exclaimed, before calming down. Turning the corner, she let out a strong force push, the clone troopers recoiling as the two charged to the escape pod. Karina readied the escape pod as Irene fended off the troopers "It's ready master!" Karina shouted out, Irene turning to join her in the pod, before reeling over, a blaster bolt to her back. "Master!" Karina shouted, deflecting another bolt to the troopers, but seeing hundreds of troopers closing in on them. "Go Karina, go to Naevis, there's a Jedi acquaintance there, find them, then stay safe. Go! I'll hold them off for you to escape" Irene shouted, Karina shaking her head. "No master, I won't leave you behind!" Karina shouted out, not looking back as she stood her ground, blaster bolt after blaster bolt bouncing off her emerald blade. "Go, Karina. May the Force be with you." With the force, Irene sent Karina flying into the escape pod, locking it and sending it off, before Irene turned, Karina forced to watch as Irene fought off as many troopers as she could, eventually dropping to the ground. "Master!" Karina shouted out helplessly, watching as her master's lifeless corpse collapsed, the escape pod accelerating away as the star destroyer exploded, the explosion catapulting Karina toward Naevis.

The clones betrayed the Jedi, the machinations of Chancellor Palpatine, now Emperor. Karina had received a message from the Jedi temple, sent by Master Kenobi, prompting her to stay away from Coruscant, as she stayed at the bar at Naevis, keeping her head low as she tried to find information on the mysterious Jedi acquaintance her master had. She did have one lead though, out in the forest, lived a mysterious figure who the townsfolk generally avoided. Armed with a torch, Karina trekked into the forest, nervous but hopeful to find another Jedi. As Karina entered the forest, she heard the trees ruffling, so she readied herself, lightsaber at the ready. "That's a dangerous weapon to be holding at this point of history, Jedi." Suddenly, Karina saw two lightsabers light up, an orange and purple lightsaber igniting, the two lightsabers flew at her, clashing with Karina's emerald blade as she adopted a defensive stance, a little shocked, as she had seen that combination only once before. Then, the lightsabers shut off, as Karina stood rooted at the ground, the green hue of her lightsaber the only source of light, illuminating where she stood as she turned nervously, trying her best to calm down, and to allow the force to guide her actions.

"You're slipping up Jimin. I thought you fought better than this!" The figure spoke, as Karina recoiled in shock. She hadn't gone by Jimin in years. Could it really be? Instinctively raising her lightsaber to the right, Karina blocked two swift lighsabers, the hue of the lightsabers illuminated the face of her assailant, someone who Karina had not saw in many years. "Y/N?" Karina asked incredulously "I'm touched you still remember me Karina. It's been years." You chuckled, both of you retracting your lightsabers. "You're the person my Master was talking about? Have you heard of what happened to the order?" Karina rambled off, not wanting to look you in the eye. "Qui Gon told me. This was bound to happen, Karina. The Jedi became soldiers, not peacekeepers, why do you think I left?" You chuckled slightly bitterly, bringing Karina to your hut. "I thought you left because of...us." Karina said, whispering the last word "Well, that didn't help." You shrugged, holding your hand out as the doors clicked, opening to allow your old friend and you to enter the hut.

37 BBY

Karina had just finished her lightsaber training with her class, Master Dooku just finishing teaching them basic lightsaber to lightsaber combat. She didn't understand the need for it though, there hadn't been a need for lightsaber combat since the last of the Sith disappeared. Now, learning blaster deflection was more important considering the threats Jedi faced on peace missions. Nevertheless, Master Dooku was relentless, training the younglings till their bones ached. As she left the hall though, she noticed another youngling, practicing with Master Qui Gon, who was once the padawan of Master Dooku. Inexplicably, Karina felt herself attracted to this youngling. The way they moved with the lightsaber was graceful yet forceful, the movements precise yet flexible. Karina hid behind the walls of the temple, looking on in awe at her fellow youngling. After about half an hour, the session finally ended, Master Qui Gon having to go on a mission with his Padawan. As Karina was about to retreat from her spot, the youngling spoke out. "You can come out now. I can sense you there." Slightly embarrassed, Karina slinked out of her hiding spot, as the youngling stuck their hand out. "I'm Y/N, do you wanna be friends?" You asked, Karina nodding as she shook your hand "I'm Karina, or Yoo Jimin"

33 BBY

"Focus, Karina-ah, your thoughts betray you." You teased as you stopped your blade just before her arm, having exploited a short moment of distraction by Karina. Karina rolled her eyes playfully, she held her lightsaber in the Ataru stance, as you stood opposite her, assuming the Soresu stance. She flipped into action, the acrobatic style of Ataru not matching up well against the defensive stone wall style of Soresu, as your use of Soresu allowed you an airtight defence, making it such that you were tiring Karina out. "Hey Y/N, I heard Master Plo was talking to you recently, what was that about?" Karina asked as she locked blades with you, both locked in a stalemate. "Master Plo is thinking of taking me as his Padawan." You replied, a force push sending Karina off guard before moving to strike to her head, as Karina parried the blow, using the force to enhance her jump, flipping over you and swinging a wide blow of her lightsaber. You dodged backward, before the two of you began circling each other once again. "Does that mean I won't see you anymore?" Karina asked, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "Not as often, I'll still be back at the temple, just not as often since I'll be on missions with Master Plo." You replied, swinging your blade as you looked intently at her. Karina leapt at you once again, her blade outstretched to strike down on you, but you deflected it, and with a swift kick, disarmed her of her weapon and sent her to the ground. Looking at each other, the both of you chuckled, as you helped Karina up, force pulling her lightsaber to you. When you handed the lightsaber to Karina, you both felt your hands lingering, before finally pulling away. "I've got to go, Master Qui Gon wants a chat with me." You bowed, before bolting out of the room. Karina's eyes lingered on you, watching as you ran to consult with the old master.

"Are you alright, Y/N? I sense your thoughts on another." Qui Gon questioned, as the two of you walked through the Jedi archives. "Is it that female youngling you always mention?" Qui Gon asked, as you nodded. "I've been thinking of her more than normal, but I know it's wrong... the Jedi Code for-" You lamented, turning to talk to Qui Gon "Is not always right, Y/N. The Jedi Code may forbid personal attachment, but to grow attached to others is human, to love someone, is human. Attachment is not a scary thing, or a path to the dark side, as Master Yoda would put it. As long as you know to balance your attachment, you will not succumb to the dark side." Qui Gon explained "I do not understand, master. How do you be attached to someone, but not fear to lose them?" You asked, the two of you entering a room to keep away prying ears "Treasure them while you have them, and rejoice when they return to the force. You can mourn them, you can miss them, that is natural. But do not allow the negative emotions to overcome you." Qui Gon explained, patting you on the shoulder. "Death is a natural thing, Y/N, and once you accept that, you will never succumb to the dark side."

32 BBY

You were preparing to leave on your first mission with Master Plo, chatting with Karina when the news came in. Master Qui Gon and his Padawan Obi Wan Kenobi came to blows with the first Sith Lord seen in decades, and in the confrontation, the Sith Zabrak named Maul struck down Master Qui Gon. "Are you okay, Y/N? I know you too were close." Karina asked, her hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. "It is fine, Karina. Master Qui Gon is now one with the force." You answered solemnly, placing your hand on your heart, mourning a master, and an unlikely friend. "I must leave now, Karina, I do not want to leave Master Plo waiting." You said, brushing yourself off and heading to find the Kel Dor Jedi Master. "Wait, Y/N!" Karina stopped you, as you turned around. "I heard from Master Plo you'll be heading to Ilum to construct a new lightsaber?" She asked, to which you nodded. Karina then took a small jewel from her robes."This is a jewel from my home planet, I want you to have it. You could add it to your lightsaber hilt, and hopefully it protects you." Karina nervously smiled, her hand stuck out. Truth is, Karina was nervous. She was already worried about you at going out to be a Jedi, the dangers you'd face, but her worries were tempered by the fact that you were more than capable on your own and that you had Master Plo to protect you. But now...with Sith Lords back, capable of defeating extremely talented duelist like Master Qui Gon...what would become of you? Looking at it, you smiled, hugging the girl who had her arms outstretched. "Thank you, Karina. It's a good thing to remember you by." You held the jewel gently in your hand, backing away from Karina. Karina wanted you to stay. Wanted to keep you close. Keep you safe. She didn't know what this feeling was, but she didn't like it. But she knew she couldn't stop you. "May the Force be with you, my friend." Karina smiled, bowing to you as you bowed back

27 BBY

Karina had not talked to you for 4 years, and Karina had been plagued with thoughts of you. She was losing sleep too. She had heard that Master Plo and you were fighting a terrorist splinter group on Thera Minor, and there had been radio silence from the two of you. Looking around, Karina finds a master to seek council, and as fate, or the force, would will it, Master Yoda came walking down the temple, observing the training "Master Yoda, could I seek council?" Karina asked, bowing to the little green master. He nodded in agreement, as the two walked to the training room.

"To discuss, what would you like?" Master Yoda enquired, as the two sat "I'm conflicted, Master Yoda. I feel myself getting attached to someone, and I'm constantly in fear for them." Karina disclosed, as Master Yoda listened intently, running his hand through the remnants of his wispy white hair "Attachment leads to jealousy. The shadow of greed, that is." Yoda said "So what must I do, Master Yoda..." Karina asked nervously "You must let go of everything you fear to lose." Yoda explained, Karina looking uneasy now. She had been close to you for 6 years, more than half her life. How could she just let go of you...but she didn't have a choice, she thought. It was the Jedi Code after all "Thank you, Master Yoda." Karina bowed, before walking away

23 BBY

Karina fidgeted nervously at the landing pads. After 9 years, you were finally returning to the Jedi Temple with Master Plo, at a time that she was there too. How were you going to be like? Were you going to have changed? These thoughts plagued Karina's mind, all the thoughts being wiped as she saw the ship carrying the two Jedi. Seeing Karina at the landing pad, you leaped off the ship, running and throwing your friend into an embrace. "Karina-ah, I missed you so much!" You said as you felt the girl tense up under your hug. Karina smiled, she didn't want to but she was still attached to you. You and her had not interacted for more than half the time you had known each other, yet both of you felt like friends who could and would talk everyday. As Karina walked with you to the training hall, she noticed your lightsaber, replaced with a double bladed lightsaber, with a clasp in the middle that seemingly allowed the lightsaber staff to be split into two separate lightsabers. On the clasp laid Karina's jewel, your lucky charm on missions, though the Masters would claim that there was no such thing as luck. Whenever you were tired or down, seeing the jewel would remind you of her, and that was enough to keep you going. As if sensing Karina's eyes on the lightsaber, you took the lightsaber up, handing it to Karina as she fiddled with the staff, playing around with the handle. "The jewel was the glue of my hilt Karina, thank you for gifting it to me." You explained, Karina nodding a little in embarrassment Hoping to relive an old past time, you gestured to the sparring room, the sparring room the two of you met in, Karina looking on and nodding in agreement. Standing on the opposite sides of the room, Karina ignited her lightsaber, adopting the Ataru stance that she had been utilising for lightsaber combat since the beginning. Opposing her, you ignited your lightsaber staff, shocking Karina as one side shone orange, the other side shone purple, adopting the Soresu stance. "Orange and purple?" Karina questioned. She had not seen an orange lightsaber before, and a purple lightsaber was only ever used by Master Windu. "It's weird, I know. When I bonded to the crystals on Ilum, the crystals seemed to react weirdly. Master Plo didn't understand it, but he said that it was the will of the force, and that the crystal probably sensed something special in me."

The duel commenced, Karina utilising the force to boost her speed, leaping over you and unleashed a flurry of attacks. With the extra coverage provided to you by the length of the Lightsaber staff, it amplified the strength of your defence, as you rotated the staff about you, blocking and parrying the strikes, biding your time as you engaged in a war of attrition.  "Karina, I have something to tell you." You said, the two of you circling each other and thinking of a new way to attack. "When I was with Master Plo on those missions, I couldn't stop thinking abo-" As if sensing what you were about to say, Karina wasn't having any of it, as she attempted to redouble her efforts. She unleashed another barrage of strikes, her lightsaber twirling about in a graceful dance. Karina also used the Force in the fight, probing you for weaknesses with Force pushes and pulls, trying to find a weak spot in your defence. It seemed to work, as your defence started lowering, Karina charged at you to exploit it, but in a flurry, you detached your lightsaber staff to two lightsabers, before charging at Karina with a new stance that she had only seen one person use. "Vaapad?" Karina questioned, as she was put on the back foot, parrying and ducking from your new aggressive advance. Vaapad was a style of Lightsaber combat that blurred the line between the Light and the Dark side of the Force, drawing on the use of both the Dark side of the force as much as the Light, channeling it into a controlled aggression. It also utilises the opponents aggression against themself. "I picked it up from Master Billaba when she helped Master Plo and I on a relief mission at Plaus Prime." You explained, your lightsabers at the ready now. Karina upped the intensity of her combat, Karina's acrobatic movements and precise strikes danced in harmony with your fierce and unpredictable attacks, a battle of finesse and raw powers. Switching it up, in the middle of your charge, you reattach your two lightsabers back into a singular lightsaber staff. Flummoxed by the new complexity the staff brought about to your Vaapad style, Karina stumbled, and while she was able to deal with some blows, she was eventually disarmed by you, as the two of you smiled, enjoying the fight as you kept your lightsaber, the two of you laying on the floor of the sparring room.

"So, Karina, as I was saying, when I was gone, I couldn't stop thinking about you, and I...I think we're meant to be." You confessed, turning to face Karina. "What are you saying?" Karina asked, an uneasy feeling settling in her chest as she knew what you meant. "I love you, Karina, and I want to be together with you. If you'll have me." You said, blushing slightly. "No." Karina monotonously said, to which you recoiled a little. "The Jedi code forbids our attachment. We're taught detachment, lest we stray from the Light side."  "But what about being happy? Finding love?" You asked, slightly disappointed and exasperated by the staunch belief Karina adopted. "I'm sorry, Y/N. Emotions like love cloud our judgement, and we as Jedi are the defenders of the people, that is the first, and only priority."  "...I understand. I must go now. Master Plo needs me with him to debrief the council." You said, disappointed, slinking away from the room, leaving Karina laying on the ground, an empty feeling permeating through her chest.

22 BBY(After the Battle of Geonosis)

The Jedi were in disarray. They suffered many losses at the hands of the Seperatist battle droids, and they were now pulled into an intergalactic war. Karina was taken as Padawan by Master Bae, and was assigned to the 29th Battalion. As Karina and Master Bae prepared for deployment to the planet of Saleucami, Karina heard whispers of Jedi leaving the order. One name stuck out to her, of course. You. Slightly guilt stricken at pushing you away, she stood there, a little stunned. "What's wrong, Karina?" Master Bae asked, worried at her padawan's demeanour. "No, Master Bae." Karina bowed, as the two went to meet Commander Tyras

19 BBY(Back in the present)

Karina sat warily at the table, still in shock of seeing you again. You presented her with some tea, as you closed the door behind you, walking to your room to repair the cryo stasis tank still laying in it. "What have you been doing all these years?" Karina asked, nervously sipping the tea. You explained the training you had been doing, helping from the shadows so as to not give away your position, but as you explained, all Karina could think about was the regret that swelled in her whenever she looked at you. Her attachment to you was forbidden by the Jedi code. But that same Jedi code allowed a Sith lord to grow right under the Jedi order's nose, for the Sith Lord to now be the commanding power in the galaxy. Not just that, the same code that pushed the chosen one into the arms of the dark side. So, was the Jedi code always right? Sensing Karina's inner conflict, you turned, sitting down beside her as you patted her on the back. "I missed you, Karina." You said with a smile, the same smile that melted Karina, it always did. "I'm sorry for...then..." Karina muttered, as you shook your head "You believed in the Jedi code, that is your right, and I had no right to force or pressure you." You replied, getting up to prime some machines "Maybe I was wrong." Karina spoke up, stopping you in your track. Turning around, you saw Karina with a small bittersweet smile, walking up to you and throwing you into an embrace. "I should have done this ages ago." Karina whispered, as you smiled. "I love you, Y/N." Karina whispered into your neck, as you reciprocated, a smile etched across your face.

18 BBY

"I'm home honey!" Karina shouted out as she entered the home, setting down some supplies she had acquired from the town in Naevis, but hearing you talk to someone, a voice Karina recognised as the deceased Master Qui Gon "Vader is coming for you, Y/N. He knows you're here." "There's no point running, is there?" Your voice rang out, as Karina tensed up from the conversation. She had heard talks about a new killing machine who worked for the emperor. He found them? "He's turned the civilian population as hostages against other survivors. He will not relent till he takes you. I'm afraid it might be time."  "I understand, Master Qui Gon. I'll enact protocol refuge for Karina, at least she'll be safe. Thank you for the warning." "May the Force be with you, my friend."

Walking out of your room, you were greeted by Karina with a conflicted look on her face.  "You heard that didn't you?" You asked, as Karina went to a small compartment of the house, pulling her old lightsaber out. "I'm not letting you get yourself killed, Y/N. We can take whoever's coming, together." Karina said, as you stared worriedly at her. "We can't beat Vader, Karina. Please. I want to at least keep you safe."  Shaking her head, Karina tossed you your lightsaber. Instead of preparing yourselves for the fight, you instead pulled Karina out of the house, laying a picnic mat on the ground as the two of you held each other, understanding that should the battle go wrong, this was their last moments together. Laying on the mat, you held Karina close to you, reminiscing on the moments you two had together. "I love you, Karina, you know that right?" You whispered "I love you too Y/N." She whispered back, trying to calm herself down for the impending storm. Karina got up, suddenly feeling a little weird. "I'm sorry Karina. This is for the best. I'll see you soon." You said, holding Karina's body before she fell.  Sensing the presence of Vader near the planet, you bolted to your cryo stasis pod. Laying Karina's unconscious body in the pod, you looked at her lovingly for the last time, placing a light kiss on her forehead, before engaging protocol refuge, the stasis pod closing, then falling beneath the surface.

You sat at the middle of your home, meditating with your lightsaber on the ground before you, as you heard a mechanical breathing, your door flinging away as the Dark Lord of the Sith, clad in his black armour walked through the door.

Opening your eyes, you got up, facing Vader as you stared each other down. Vader ignited his crimson lightsaber, it hummed ominously in the darkness, as you held your lightsaber staff close to your face, touching your forehead to the jewel gifted to you by the love of your life all those years ago. 

Taking up the usual Soresu stance, you took a defensive stance as Vader began his assault. With precise movements, you deflected Vader's powerful strikes, channeling the Force to anticipate and neutralize each attack. You spun your lightsaber staff with elegance and control, its dual blades creating a formidable barrier against Vader's relentless assault. Vader pressed on with his assault, each strike more forceful than the last, taking it's toll on your defence as you were slowly overwhelmed by the sheer strength of the Dark Lord.

Sensing the futility of a war of attrition, you detached your lightsaber staff into two lightsabers, adopting the Vaapad style, unleashing a flurry of slashes and blows that surprised the Dark Lord, but not nearly enough to take him down, as Vader adapted to the new speed of the assault, going blow for blow with you.  Your lightsabers were a blur, as the speed of your assault clashed with the sluggish but still powerful blows of Vader

Slowly, Vader's experience and sheer power began to take its toll. Your relentless assault could not match the dark lord's indomitable strength. With a resounding strike, Vader disarmed you, causing your lightsabers to clatter to the ground.  As you fell to the ground, the Dark Lord held his lightsaber to your head. "I sense great potential in you, Y/N. Join the emperor, and he will grant you mercy, if you join the empire as an inquisitor." He said, his robotic voice filling the room. With one last spurt of energy, you force pushed Vader back, drawing your lightsabers to you once again. "Not while I draw breath, Skywalker." You replied, as Vader stood opposed silent but with killing intent "Draw your last." Vader replied, charging at you. You parried his first strike, dodging the second, but the third found it's way through your abdomen. As you fell to the ground, you clasped the jewel in your hand, your life flashing before your eyes, but mostly, it was her. The first time you saw Karina hiding behind the pillar, the duels you had, the meals and talks you had, the way she'd look at you and told you that she loved you. "I love you, Karina." You whispered hoarsely, before disappearing into thin air. Looking on in confusion, Vader stood, staring that the now empty cloak on the ground, before turning around, leaving the room.

??? BBY/ABY?

Karina shot up from her pod, looking around worriedly as she saw two unknown figures, one male and one female. Pulling her lightsaber up, she questioned, "Who are you?" "Calm down, my name is Luke Skywalker. This is my wife, Mara Jade. We found your location inside a holocron." He explained, as he handed you the holocron. "We came in search of a Jedi, we'll need help in reestablishing the Jedi order." Mara Jade explained, as Karina looked in confusion. "The empire fell? How many years have I been asleep?" Karina questioned, as Luke nodded. "40 years." Luke said, as Karina lowered her head. "We found this in your pod. We'll give you some space." Luke said, as both of them left the room. With a wave of her hand, the holocron opened, as a hologram of you showed up. "Hey Rina. If you're seeing this, it means Vader caught up with us, but at least you made it out safe. That's good. I'm sorry it had to end that way, but I had to protect you. I have faith that the light side will return, and when it does, they'll need you to help, and I know you're more than capable. So go, my love, help the next generation of Jedi. And don't forget. I will always love you, Karina, and know that even now, as I return to the force, I still love you."  Karina looked lovingly at your figure, tears slowly streaming down her face. Looking around the room, she saw it. Your ruined lightsabers. Covered by the dust and rubble. Karina walked over to the lightsabers, picking them up as she stared, feeling herself beginning to sob. Sitting amidst the rubble, she ran her fingers across the joining piece of the lightsabers of her beloved, her gift to you all those years ago. Her mind flickered to every moment you shared together, her grip around the lightsaber tightening in anguish. In her mind, she had just shared her last picnic with you. The last memory she had of you, flashing back and forth across her mind. Carrying the lightsabers, she went to the bed the two of you shared at the home, sitting down, before feeling a presence next to her. From the side of her eye, a blue hue sat. Sharing a tender smile, she whispered "Hello my love."

A/N2: Sorry guys, this might not be the kind of fic you're used to from me, I just wanted to indulge in writing a Star Wars universe Fic. Hope you enjoyed it regardless!

[scoundrels-in-love]

You hold me for a little (Curtains closed to the end of the world)

Three times Meryl is loaned a jacket by the men in their ragtag group through their journey and the one time she borrows it at the end of it all. | Vashmery/Stryfewood/Mashwood | | Grief | Persistence of hope | Father figure Roberto | Flirty Vash | | Wolfwood experiences the mortifying ordeal of being Perceived with Care | Meryl gets to cry in emotional support titties (again) | Orignally inspired by this lovely piece by @briizer even though it wildly spun away from that. Also on AO3.

I

When Meryl first spots the cluster of buildings in the distance, she isn’t sure if they’re really there or a wishful figment of her imagination after driving more than twelve hours without a break. 

As the settlement comes closer, she feels the tension curling stronger still in her limbs. Is it safe to stop? Meryl isn’t even sure whose safety she’s doubting at the moment - theirs or the strangers’ that could end up with the same fate as Jeneora Rock. There’s no rock there anymore, she thinks numbly. 

“We got to recharge the car,” Roberto breaks the silence. Her fingers curl tighter around the steering wheel, as if it could give her back control over anything. 

They’re allowed inside without much questioning, which is a blessing, because Meryl doesn’t think she’s got much talking left in her at this rate. The couple running a makeshift inn of sorts are welcoming and don’t overcharge for electricity.

"Survivors of Jeneora?" The older man asks, after giving them a quick once-over.

There's no real way to hide it, they're still dirty and bloody, Vash looks more like a corpse than a passenger in the back seat. (Her blood ran cold when she looked back at him, passed out and still, and she thought he had succumbed to some wound she had missed. It was the only time they stopped, just long enough for her to scramble in the back and shake him awake in panic, to make sure that he was okay. As much as any of them could be.)

"Yeah, we were just passin' through when shit went down. Got real lucky," Roberto says.

"You poor things, that must've been so awful. I hope they bring that Typhoon fella to justice soon, this is getting out of hand," the innkeeper’s wife’s voice is full of compassion.

It's only Roberto's grip on her lower arm that holds her back from physically launching towards the counter and pouring out how wrong they are. Her lip wobbles instead and she looks down, at her scuffled shoes and the floor that blurs.

They’re immediately invited to stay the night to rest and recover, but Roberto insists they’ve got to keep moving as their (made-up) family must be worrying. Meryl is thankful for that, she doesn’t know if she’d keep her composure under a barrage of questions and sympathy. 

There’s just enough time while the car charges to use the kindly-offered amenities, though. While Vash remains in the car, she and Roberto take turns scrubbing themselves clean and changing clothes in a tiny bathroom. Her jacket is thrown into a hurried wash and she tries not to think about Tonis’ blood going down the drain. Fails.

While it starts drying in the sun, she joins Roberto on the bench outside, next to the charging station. It’d be nice to hide from the heat, but she doesn't know where or how to be, exactly. Never did, really. It’s worse now, the thought of not seeing where Vash is like a panicked needle trying to cover her lungs in puncture marks. (Is it because she’s afraid for him or herself without him there?)

The wind is rough and feels surprisingly cold without her jacket, the dichotomy between it and the sun making her foggy headed. Or maybe it’s the lack of sleep. 

There's a rustle of fabric and suddenly, with a waft of cigarette smoke, something is draped over her. It takes Meryl a second before she realizes that Roberto has thrown the side of his jacket around her. She glances up at him, but he’s staring ahead as he smokes, so she shifts to sit right next to him and pulls the cloth around her.

It’s nice, like a makeshift barrier against, well, everything, really. Even if the principle of it is more powerful than the actual physical protection. She allows herself to slump forwards a little, arms wrapping around her knees, which she pulls up to her chest, but one of her hands still holds the corner of the jacket closed so the wind doesn’t rip the cover away.

They don’t speak and it’s kinder that way, Meryl can close her eyes and almost picture it is her father sitting next to her. Like he never would. And maybe now she finally won’t need him to.

Being lucky is part of being a good reporter, Roberto had said. Maybe it had had a hand in him ending up as her mentor, too.

II

Meryl wakes in the thinning dusk of an early morning. Roberto is snoring nearby and everything feels the kind of calm that is trapped behind a glass. If she had nightmares, she does not remember them and that is a kind of gift, too. 

For a couple minutes, she tries to chase after the wisps of sleep, but gives up quickly enough. Having an hour to herself before the rest of the group wakes up is a rarity she doesn’t feel like wasting, even if she doesn’t have a plan for it, either. 

As quietly as possible, Meryl gets out of the creaking bed and, later, down the stairs that love to whine if she steps in the middle of them where they’re more worn.

The horizon is barely beginning to burn with sunrise and the wind is freezing cold as it greets her. She sinks deeper into her jacket and pulls the beanie lower over her ears, but continues down the sleeping street.  She doesn’t know what she’s looking for, but she knows the quiet urge to walk, walk into the vastness until she melts into it.

Watching the suns come up will have to do, Meryl decides. She finds a ladder to the top of the shabby fortifications around the town and then onto one of the boxes there. The wind almost rips her hat off and she is starting to reconsider her plans, just when she hears someone approach.

Before she can look, the person speaks up: “Good morning, Meryl.” She knows the voice, huskier with sleep as it may be, and immediately relaxes. Vash. 

“Good morning,” she says, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. There is a long yawn, right behind her. Meryl affords herself a smile, knowing that he won’t see it, as she pictures his sleepy face the way she’s seen it in the mornings when he seems to be less haunted - all boyish and soft. 

“I didn’t wake you up, right?” It’d seem an illogical question, if the other person was anyone but Vash who seems to notice much more than he tries to let on. But her job is to notice. 

“No, of course not,” Vash reassures her and she chooses to believe him, even if it doesn’t explain why he’d come and find her. 

They are quiet for a minute or two, other than the wind billowing and the creaking of the wooden box as she keeps shifting her weight in an attempt to keep warm. 

“I could lend you my jacket, if you’d like?” He speaks into her ear, low and deceivingly soft, and much closer than she thought he was. Meryl startles and hides her face in the collar of her jacket so he won’t see the heat that has nothing to do with the chill spreading across her face, all the way to the tip of her ears. 

“Oh, thank you, but I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold, I’m used to feeling chilly anyway,” she says the second she thinks she has her voice under control. 

“That won’t be a problem.” Before she can process his matter-of-fact tone, Meryl is pulled back so that her back hits his chest and red flutters around them for a split second. In another moment, she’s securely trapped and zipped up in his coat, only her head peeking out. 

“Vash?!” she squeaks, quite belatedly. 

“Never said anything about taking my jacket off, did I,” his tone is cheeky and she pokes him with her elbow, earning an exaggerated yelp. But it is so much warmer like this, almost too much, even, and absurdly, Meryl wonders if he can somehow sense how fast her heart is beating. 

If he does, Vash seems unperturbed, letting his chin rest on the top of her head and propping his arms over her shoulders, giving an illusion of leaning on her though Meryl knows it’s nothing more than that and she’d be no real support to his height or weight. But even this pretense makes her heart swell with ache-edged joy. 

She sinks back into him and his sturdy, welcoming heat just a little and rests her head against his left arm. It’s only when he tenses she realizes it’s his prosthetic - not that she didn’t know, just that it doesn’t really matter to her. She should’ve been more mindful of him, though.

“Is it uncomfortable?” she asks, turning to look at him. Vash is staring down at her with one of those expressions she can’t decipher all the while reading too far into them. (Like she’s something surprising and wonderful, like there is a gentle light pouring out of him, just for her.)

“No! No.” It seems honest enough, so Meryl returns to how she was before, feels him relax - gradually, like he’s allowing himself an inch of peace minute by minute. Her heartbeat evens out, too, and she realizes she isn’t observing the calm anymore, she’s in it, sinking into it like the kindest quicksand. 

She lets it take her, smiling as they greet the suns rising together. Whatever squabbles they might end up having later, no matter how arduous the drive might be later, Meryl knows it’s going to be a beautiful day. 

Maybe even more than that, if they get lucky. 

III

In the doorway, Meryl takes another look at the form beneath the covers. Vash hasn’t stirred still, not since he had slowly crumbled to his knees and then onto the floor as the plant markings grew in almost blinding intensity before fading as suddenly as they had revealed themselves. She is thankful for that, it had made getting off the sandsteamer simpler, because even in the middle of the chaos someone would pay attention to a glowing man.

“Go, I’ll keep an eye on him and call you if he wakes up,” Roberto tells her from his chair at the bedside, noticing that she’s hesitating. Suppressing a sigh, Meryl nods and closes the doors behind her quietly. 

The First floor of the saloon is noisy, filled with people from the sandsteamer and local townspeople drinking, panicking and discussing today’s events. She squeezes past them, pretends the crowd and the noise aren’t like a crushing weight, bursts through the door and lets the cold air hit her. Her inhales are deep and shaky and-

“Hey!” A hand grabs her and pulls her to the side, away from the doorway, a second before the exit bursts open and a drunken patron stumbles out. 

“Sorry. I guess I’m a little out of it,” she says to Wolfwood, his hand still on her shoulder. It’s heavy and warm and makes her feel a bit more tethered to the present, like she won’t float up into the night sky because of the emptiness in her chest.

“Can’t really blame ya there. It’s been quite the day.” He releases her and puts out the stub of his cigarette, pulls out a new one and she watches how his hand shakes just so when he tosses the lighter and catches it. 

“Nothing like yours and Vash’s.” She doesn’t really know what happened on the deck, who was the half-masked man, but the way Nicholas had screamed is still ringing somewhere deep in her. It might always. 

When he says nothing, Meryl tilts her head back, watches the smoke drifting upward the clear night sky. The vastness of it, of today, crashes down on her again and the void in her chest grows heavy, like a bomb, and her whole body starts shivering with the effort of trying to keep it from exploding. 

“I used to call him a coward. But it’s me who was a coward all along. I still am. I’m so scared for him and you and Roberto, and all those people on the sandsteamer, they could have died and I am so sorry for what happened to -”

Wolfwood pulls her out of the sentence and into him, pulling his jacket around her and sealing it with his arm wrapped around her. He is warm and firm and real. He’s here and she clings to that, pushes through the nausea sloshing in her stomach at the scent of blood and cigarettes. 

One side of his shirt is drenched in blood and she presses her face into his chest on the opposite side. It’s a miracle he is alive, it’s a miracle how fast the welts on his hands are healing. She doesn’t know how much this miracle costs him, but she is thankful for it. Meryl wraps her arms around his waist, trying to find the words to say just that. 

Wolfwood is quicker. “Roberto said you’d refused to budge. You had the fuckin’ luxury of choice and you stayed.” Meryl shakes her head in reply - it had been a choice, but it also wasn’t. If she had walked away and people had died, it wouldn’t be much of a living afterward. She knows Roberto understands, he wouldn’t have stayed otherwise. 

Nicholas pats her on the back, either to shush her before she speaks or in an attempt to soothe her, while he continues: “I think… Bein’ afraid doesn’t make you a coward. If you don’t do nothing, that’s when you’re one. So, uh, thanks for stickin’ around.” 

Then, he barks a quiet, cracked laugh. “God, look at the shit I’m saying, Blondie’s really rubbin’ off on me, huh?”

“You’re not so different, you know,” she tells him, pulling back just enough to look up at him as she thinks of the desperate, foolish way he’d decided to save Hopeland armed with only this want to (and swept them all up in his belief), “thank you for staying, too.” For following Vash when they almost hadn’t, for being here, in this moment, with her, instead of taking off who knows where. Or at least to the orphanage he worked so hard to protect. 

With only the ghost of light from the saloon's window and his cigarette’s ember, it’s hard to see his expression, but she feels the way his arm tightens around her and the deep inhale he holds, holds. For a moment, Meryl feels the need to reach up and touch his face, smooth her thumb over the tension in his jaw, to tell him it’s alright to let it go here, where it’s just them. 

Before she can act on it, Nicholas' other arm comes up to wrap around her, hand cradling the back of her head and gently pushing it back into his chest, as if he cannot bear to have her looking at him any longer. 

It hurts somehow, as if on his behalf, and she hugs him tighter, grips the back of his shirt in her fists, as if that way she can force some comfort back onto him. She knows so damn little, not even how to really help these men that her stubbornness and maybe some kind of fucked up version of fate has brought into her life. And it’s just not damn fair. To any of them.

Her tremors turn into quiet sobs then, even as her thoughts rain lashes down on her - you should be comforting him, he lost someone today, he is so very hurt and he must’ve been so scared for Hopeland, and now you make him coddle you instead - and it only makes her cry harder. 

Nicholas doesn’t say anything, just holds her until the vastness of tears inside her are consumed by the void again and she grows still and empty in the safety of his jacket and arms. Meryl doesn’t know how long it has taken, her only time gauge is his cigarette that has burned down to the filter.

“I owe you a shirt,” she croaks out, unsticking her face from where her tears have soaked through it. It’s hardly the worst that has happened to it today and, honestly, she just wants him in a clean one as soon as possible so she can pretend to stop thinking about the bullet wounds that would’ve put any other man in the grave. 

“I’ll write up the check tomorrow, don’t you worry about it.” He loosens his hold on her, but she doesn’t rush to extract herself. They’re back to playing at normalcy in their words, but separating still feels scary somehow, as if he could just crumble or disappear if she isn’t touching him. Or maybe she’s afraid that’s what will happen to her. (Always afraid, always stalling.)

She wipes her nose with the back of her sleeve, draws a breath and pulls gently away from Wolfwood. The night feels so much colder than before and she immediately shrinks back into herself a little. All the more reason to get back inside. 

“We should get some food before the saloon closes, bring it up to Vash and Roberto,” she tells Nicholas. Whenever Vash wakes, he will need to eat, even if he tries to refuse.  

“I’ll join you in a few.” Wolfwood lights another cigarette, but it’s an excuse and maybe he needs the time alone that she had interrupted, but it doesn’t feel right to leave him out here. 

She takes his hand gingerly, so as not to upset the welts on his palms. “Come. We will keep the window open, Roberto’s already smoking in there.” 

He doesn’t say no, but doesn’t move, either. 

“Please, Nicholas.” 

His fingers curl around hers and he allows her to drag him back into the building, into the light like she's the world's smallest locomotive that can somehow move a sandsteamer. 

If only she could always do that, she thinks; hold him and Vash away from whatever darkness licks at their heels, hold them without restraining them. Keep them safe in ways they’d never give permission themselves to be. 

+IV

It's another day and another walk through the open grave of JuLai. Meryl is starting to lose count of both, it's only her notes that keep the flow of time in check.

Being a reporter had given her some privilege to go where others could not, though very little was enforced in the first days. There was hardly anyone to do it, after all.

That is how she knows there is nothing to find in the very epicenter of the explosion - only a field of half molten sand, like a murky eye glaring at the sky. Still, she had scrambled and slid her way through it, looking for a sign of impact, maybe a scrap of cloth. Anything, really. It had been Wolfwood to pull her away from there after hours or maybe days, set her on her feet outside the glassy indent and tell her he isn't there.

Where, then? Where?! she had demanded, hands fisting in the front of his jacket. His silence had been the only answer, his palms heavy on her shoulders. 

For a man of faith, Nicholas doesn't believe much. And still, she knows he is out there, too, searching, helping and hoping. They will meet later and hold each other's hands so they don't feel as achingly empty, like they do most nights nowadays.

She does her job, too, of course. Takes photos that will take permanent residency in her nightmares, interviews survivors and the people that come to seek signs of their loved ones, dead or alive. She documents again and again the moment when the torture of not-knowing tears itself apart and becomes insurmountable grief, devouring the person.

Maybe someday it will loosen its jaws and let the healing begin, the sort that having no answer can never give. 

As for her, Meryl doesn't know what hope looks like for her anymore. Just that she can't give it up yet. 

(They have not found Roberto’s body yet, might never, but she knows his fate. That loss is heavy on her hands, the memory of his blood like a set of steel rings every time she holds her camera, brings out her notebook. It’s the only thing she can do for him now - do her best damn job of sharing the truth of this tragedy. His. Theirs.)

She stops to take a photo of a once glimmering neon sign sticking out of sand next to a pit, like a welcome sign to hell - see, we are still Open, come join us. It is then that she notices a piece of fabric flapping in the wind a little ways up and ahead. For a second she even mistakes it for a figure standing there.

The color is wrong, but not unfamiliar, and the sun catches on some metal detailing, sending a jolt through her that shocks her body back into movement. Meryl scrambles up the dune, over the wreckage, hisses when something sharp cuts into her palm, but doesn't stop until she's holding the coat in her trembling hands.

Because it is the coat, Vash's coat. Torn and stained dark, but she knows the Project SEEDS patch, knows the cut of it, knows it, even if the texture of the fabric seems to have changed in the process Vash underwent in the vat. (Like all of them changed that hour.)

With a strangled noise, Meryl presses her face into it, imagines that time and wind and the horrors haven't erased the soft, sweet scent of him from it. 

When she regains her composure, Meryl gives the garment more thorough inspections, looking for any hints about what has happened to its owner. There isn't really anything, other than the fact it exists and has been discarded, as if taken off in a hurry. Or maybe left behind as a sign.

She scratches at the dark color lightly, to see if it would come off. Vash had liked - likes - the red. Maybe Luida can help her restore the original color, fix the tears. The thought makes her smile and she stands there, basks in the warmth of it, for a while.

Then, she folds the coat carefully and presses it to her chest, speaking into the quiet: "I'm going to borrow this, Vash. I hope you don't mind. Just for a while, I promise." Until you come back to us. Until we find you. Let it be a while and no longer, please, please, please.

After a long, memorizing look and a few photos taken so that she can surely find this place again, Meryl descends the hill with a lighter heart than she can remember having. In a minute, she's running in the direction Nicholas should be in, still smiling.

This is her current favorite place in the world, scarred and barren as it is. This is the new epicenter of her hope. Their hope.

[softquietsteadylove]

drama for the runaway bride au: A man from the nearby village has seen Thena at Gilgameshs little forest house and informed royal guards who informed the King and now they're standing in front of Gilgameshs door again and invite themselves in and they're dragging Thena back to the castle

Gil smiled down at the flowers in his hand. Thena would love them--they were soft and white and lovely, just like her. He would put them in some water when he got home, maybe after dinner. Thena was probably chopping vegetables this very second. She was getting better at it.

It had been almost a year since she found him--or since he found her, maybe it was better to say. The beautiful bride he found hiding in a tree trunk was no longer a lost little fawn. She had come to learn everything that was required to keep the house in good order. She had taken over those duties all together when he'd been injured.

The cabin was as much hers as it was his, as far as he was concerned.

And it was high time he tell her as much, too. Maybe it was silly to do something so formally when she had indeed lived alongside him all this time. He often blushed to remember that they even shared a bed. But he felt he had to say something--let her know just how important it was to him that she was here.

"No, let go of me!"

The flowers dropped from Gil's hand. He took off in a run, his feet slipping faintly as he charged towards the house, a royal carriage parked out front.

"Get off me!" Thena screamed, so unlike her usual self. But she was a force to be reckoned with, clawing and thrashing, teeth bared like a wild animal.

"Your highness, please," the men pleaded with her.

"Let her go!" Gil bellowed before he could even think about it. All he knew was that he could see Thena being taken away, and he had to stop it. "Get away from her!"

"The lumberjack is back!"

"Stop him!"

"He has a weapon!"

"No!" Thena pulled against the suits of armour holding each of her arms. "No, don't hurt him!"

Gil slid to a stop, holding his axe but eyeing the line of royal soldiers with their swords pointed at him. "What do you think you're doing with her?"

"The princess is coming with us!"

"Like hell she is," he snarled at them. He would fight all of them, outnumbered or not, if he had to. "You're not going anywhere with my Thena."

"Gil!" she cried out for him. She managed to pull away from her captors, shoving the men out of her way until she could stand in front of him. "Enough!"

"Your highness, move!" the frontmost man barked at her.

"No!" she barked right back at him (that was his Thena). "Or would you rather report to my father than you've run me through trying to capture an innocent man?"

The guards did lower their weapons, although it didn't do much to make Gil feel better about the whole thing. The captain glared at him. "He is no innocent man, your highness. The lumberjack stands accused of kidnapping and holding the princess hostage."

"There is no such crime," Thena stated, although it seemed that - princess or not - her word didn't weigh as much as it should to the men facing them.

"His majesty has been searching, my lady," the captain scowled at her, still standing in front of Gil to protect him. "For nigh on a year, now."

It was a year this very day, actually.

"Then tell him you've found me," Thena challenged, her shoulders squared and her braid sliding off her shoulder and down her back. "Tell him you've found me and that I refuse to return."

The other guards looked between themselves. They were just men following orders, doing their jobs, trying to feed themselves and their families.

"I cannot, your highness."

"Well I won't be going with you, so you may pick which is a worse fate," Thena snipped at him, grasping Gil's hand behind her. "But if a hair on this man's head is hurt, I will have the lot of you executed."

Gil blinked. The men didn't seem to take her all that seriously, but he would be trembling in his armour if he were in their shoes. They hadn't seen her furious at the end of a long day when he'd forgotten to wipe his muddy boots off yet again.

"Princess Thena," the captain resumed his attempt at reasoning with her. He stepped forward, hand on his chest (and off his weapon). "Not only your father but your fiance the prince has also-"

"I have no fiance, captain," Thena cut him off without even batting an eye. "And if there is a snivelling pup inhabiting the castle saying he is, then I mourn for the days of your honour as a royal guard."

Damn, she really had a way with words, especially when they were insulting.

"My lady, I implore you," the captain bent at the waist and bowed to her. "I am not to return without you, sworn on my life."

Thena sighed. She wouldn't be responsible for something like that--she refused to be. Gil gave her hand a squeeze, "captain?"

"Highness?" he peeked up at her, a little too eager for how little time had passed.

"If my father has threatened you all with death," she held her head high. "Then I suggest you run away."

The men paled.

"These forests are deep. You could find the village, start anew, take your families and leave the prison my father calls a castle. But I will not return there with you, and if your lives depend on me doing so, then I am telling you now to save yourselves."

"Highness," another guard interjected, although Gil got the sense that he wasn't really allowed to speak up so freely. "If it's about the lumberjack, perhaps your father would employ-"

"Silence!"

Gil shrank slightly, and he was behind her! The men facing them flinched.

"My father," she said it like she would talk about hay mould, or spiders, or wild boars. Her eyes locked with the guard, "is not fit to stand in the same room as the man behind me."

"H-Highness-"

"Stop calling me that!"

"Princess," the captain took the reins again, his voice raising. "I have been ordered to bring you back. And I regret to inform you that I am to use any means necessary to do so."

"Truly?" she didn't back down from the threat, but still stood close enough to Gil that no one would be able to approach him without her being in the way. "Would you tie me up and kidnap me, captain? Would you apprehend the crown princess?"

"If I must, my lady," he informed her with an equal lack of remorse. "I was ordered to retrieve you, alive, but by no means was I told to do so with gentility. And if I must bring you back by force, then so be it."

Gil gripped his axe again. He didn't like where this was headed. Thena backed up into him even more, pressing her back to his chest. Her hand gripped the handle of his axe, throwing off his grip. She didn't want him to fight.

"I'm sure my resistance will be attributed to my so called 'kidnapper' fighting you off?" Thena assumed aloud.

"Aye," the captain confirmed.

"Then I must tell you..."

Gil held his breath same as the guards did. He didn't know what she had up her sleeve, but it had better be good. It really seemed like everyone's lives were depending on it.

"That I have already married him."

What was that now?

The men traded looks, most horrified, a few more curious than anything. The captain looked positively flushed with rage. "I beg your pardon."

"I have married this man," Thena proclaimed like it was nothing. She wound their fingers together.

"Each and every marriage must be officiated properly, your highness." The captain looked mortified, but in an angry way. "Your father will never recognise it as a lawful union."

"Then I suppose you will have to go and tell him regardless."

"Thena," he breathed against her hair. He wasn't sure if this would only invite more trouble down the line or not, especially considering it was a bold faced lie. But he went with it.

"That his daughter has run off and had a bastardisation of a marriage in the woods with some lowly peasant?!"

Gil huffed; he wasn't rich by any means, but he wasn't sure if he was a peasant, either. He had just worked at the castle not two weeks ago!

"Yes," she persisted, "tell him exactly that, or anything else. But he may know that I love the man I am with, and that I will not return to his gilded cage to be sold like chattel."

The captain sighed deeply. If looks could kill, he would be on trial for regicide, "if that is what her highness wishes."

"It is an order."

As if the word 'order' were a magic spell, the men all snapped up straighter, heels together. "Ma'am!"

"Then we must inform the king," the captain declared, pulling back his tiny battalion to deliver truly terrible news.

"I wish you luck," Thena sent them off with the snide wish, crossing her arms as they loaded into the carriages again. She kept glaring until they were dragging themselves off the beaten path and back to the main road again.

Gil let out a breath once they were out of sight. He leaned on his knees, heart hammering, "wow."

Thena also sighed, turning around to face him. "I suppose we will have to be prepared for the possibility that the magistrate will come knocking next."

"Uh, Thena?"

"Perhaps Eros will come with some fake document to state that I am not legally allowed to marry anyone but him," she continued, rolling her eyes and sorting out her braid again, "like a land deed."

"Thena," Gil tried again.

"As much as I never want to see him again, I would pay any price to see the image of my father's face when he finds out his crown jewel has-"

"Thena!" he interrupted, not at all yelling at her but certainly not keeping quiet anymore. He stood to his full height again, smiling at her, "married, are we?"

Finally faced with the consequences of her lie, she looked down at the ground between them, quickly flushing rouge. "U-Uh, w-well-"

"Wish I had known," he chuckled, trying to get a peek at her face, "I'd have gotten you a gift, darling."

She squirmed, toying with the edge of her apron (which none of the guards noticed was literally made from her once-wedding dress). "I had to think of something they couldn't argue with me about."

"No, I guess you were right," Gil chuckled, throwing his arm over her shoulders and pulling her closer, "now I just have to worry about your dad busting down my door, huh?"

"Please," she scoffed at the very idea, "Father hasn't set food outside the castle in well over two decades. I think he would sooner write me off as missing and deceased than lift a finger to verify it himself."

Gil wasn't sure if that was so true, but he couldn't do anything but take her word for it at the moment. He kissed her forehead, "are you okay?"

She sighed, leaning against his chest, tugging at the suspenders over his flannel shirt. "I tried to hide again but they circled the house and took me. I was worried...I thought you wouldn't-"

"Hey, okay, sh," he whispered, pressing his nose to her temple as she sniffed back her tears. He had been scared of that very thing. "It's okay, nothing like that is gonna happen."

Neither of them could guarantee that.

Thena put her hands on his hips, while he did the same for her. "I'm sorry to lie like that."

He shook his head. He didn't mind it nearly as much as she thought he did. Maybe he minded that it wasn't actually true, but that was for a later date. "It is our anniversary, actually."

Thena smiled, their foreheads meeting gently. She rose on her toes, just enough to touch her lips to his, "happy anniversary, my sweet lumberjack."

[dgttwisted]

Whose your master?

twst an fate/ cross over

(twst icons brought to you by @psychicxhearts-blog1)

no one asked for this but me an my own brain so I'm making it!

warnings/triggers: blood, violence mentions of sex traffickers(don't worry they all die)

"Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates close.

Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.

Let it be declared now; your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your sword."

Then the the use of either your blood or the blood of something else in the form of the circle after words the mana from the grail helps conjure a servant from the relic you have brought....at least that is how it is normally done.

"HAHAHA JADE LOOK LOOK LOOK!" Floyds voice shouts with flagrant excitement as he holds the wrist of a rather angry looking individual.

said man whips his hand out of Floyd's grasp rather easily "Oi! Who the hell are you? you the dumbass who summoned me!?"

Jade couldn't help but chuckle it would seem the grail chose someone a little to similar to his brother way to amusing for him "about time you summoned him Floyd, Azul was getting worried that you'd be left behind" he said with a smirk

Floyd only laughed as a response "he worries over nothing i told him it'd summon something when I'm in the mood an i did!"

"enough yapping!" voiced the man that the two of them could tell was a berserker "I'm itching for some killing when can i start!?"

"very eager hu? me to! hay i know where some of the lackeys are want to come play with me it'll be way more fun with more people!" Floyd practically skipped thinking of the carnage he was about to unfold.

berserker had a sharp toothed grin about him "now your speaking my language what are we waiting for" the berserker ran after his supposed master leaving Jade in the dust.

"i was going to tell them that we had to report to Azul ah well" so he said but he seemed to enjoy watching them leave with such glee on there faces.

"master" an appeared out of his spirit form bowing in front of Jade his long dark hair gliding across the tiles of the roof they stood upon as they watched Floyd an the berserker run onward "should i keep an eye on them?"

"that won't be necessary when Floyd's mood drops he'll be bursting threw the door asking for a snack an a nap" he says with all do confidences while Floyd isn't exactly predictable regardless of what he does during the night or day he always returns home.

-

"AHAHAHAA!" Floyd kicks the door to there hide out so fast it shatters in to splinters shredding threw out the entrance hall of the place they're invading. Berserker doesn't waste time an charges in killing anyone in his way. "hay no fair! getting a head start!" Floyd seemed to almost whine as he said that.

"you snooze you lose!" shouts the berserker as he started cutting down the enemy at breakneck speed.

Floyd eventually caught though he wasn't using a weapon just his barehand's he squeezed there necks or faces shattering them like glass. "hahaha! hay hay what number are you at lets keep score!"

"You Bastard!" one of the enemies shouted "we're under treaty you have the audacity to break in here a slaughter innocent men"

"hehe innocent? that's a funny way of referring to sex traffickers" the man grew still as Floyd spoke "Azul was yapping about it the other day while he lectured me using the treaty in the hopes we'd take are eyes off you long enough an you creeps started to kidnap kids?" Floyd points an laughs at him the man growing angry pulls a gun out to shoot.

in that second there was a sound in the air though not of gunfire but of slashing then of screaming. "AAAAH Y-YOU SON OF BITCH AAAHGGG"

Berserker picks at his ear watching the man writhe on the ground "quit your shouting all i did was cut off your arm" Berserker kicked him in the gut causing him to slide an smash into a wall.

"hehe you know i was gonna come in here an kill you anyway all you did was put more fuel to the fire! hay hay berserker what's your name?"

"are you some sort of dumbass? you were literally holding onto my book!" Berserker shouts at him

"oh that thing i was just reading it to pass the time" he said with a carefree smile

"Edward Hyde!" Berserker shouts "don't you go forgetting now you got that!"

"Pufferfish!" Floyd says with glee as he steps on the bosses head intent on crushing it.

"you deaf or somethen! i said Hyde!"

"your so silly pufferfish!"

"Hyde!!!"

as they argued a shot was fired grazing Hyde's cheek "you're gonna regret that!" Hyde charged soon followed by Floyd after all he wanted to to tally there kill score by the end of this night.

-

that next morning was met with 4 hour lecture from Azul to Floyd an his new servant on how it may have seemed like a good idea at the time but charging in an making a mock of things is gonna suck for them in the long run.

"we killed all the witnesses what's the big deal?" Hyde said yawning

"That is not the issue here you were only just summoned what if a mage or someone from the church saw you!" Azul argued

"but they didn't! i didn't sense any familiars while we were having fun" Floyd said with a lazy smile clearly used to being scolded.

"annoying this is a pain I'm letting you deal with this boring stuff!" before Azul could ask who he meant Hyde's hair seemed to soften an fall flatter his eyes turned from red to green an his teeth became much less sharp "ah~" a noise that no one could imagine berserker to make the sigh sounded to soft for him "he always does this if he doesn't want to deal with something tedious he drops it on me what a troublesome fellow though i guess it's my fault he's like that i am the one who made him after all"

Jade's servant came out from hiding "that's impossible"

the man got up off his knees from where he was sitting wiping them off "oh Assassin? ah i guess this does feel a little confusing to you after all my normal rules there should only be one Assassin per team but you see Hyde an i are a special case" he said with a polite smile "sense Hyde so carelessly introduced himself it would only be polite of me to do the same Master, associate's of my master an fellow servants it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance i am Dr. Henry Jekyll"

after the room collectively picked there jaws off the floor they started asking questions.

"how come pufferfish turned into nurse shark?" Jekyll points at himself "funny way or referring to others you're calling me nurse shark master?"

"who else would i be talking about" Floyd pouts "where did pufferfish go?"

that caused a small chuckle to leave Jekyll's lips "not to worry master 'pufferfish' is still here with us he's just taking a back seat while i'm in control" a voice that only Jekyll can hear rings out in his head 'You think this is fucking funny! why do you get to have the cool nickname! that's not fair!!!'

Assassin spoke next "a duo servant? is that a thing?"

"i asked the counterforce the same thing but it assured me that it's not a unusual occurrence though rare very similar servants like myself are a thing though usually they are two separate people instead of one servant but considering my tale you could imagine why we can't exactly be separate can we?" Jekyll walks over to the table jade was sitting by "may i?" Jade nods an Jekyll sits across from him

"in this form you can hide your presence like Assassin but you have the strength of berserker" Azul grinned in a way that could be clearly read as 'we can use this'

"what an interesting team I'm apart of where are the other Master's an servants on this team of ours?" Jekyll asks rather curious as he started to make himself some tea.

"on patrol my caster is with them you'll meet them later this evening" Azul said now sitting back at his desk looking over his paperwork "you're free to go this time Floyd"

Floyd jumped up "haaaaay nurse shark lets play something fun come on" Jekyll looked at him quizzically "you were up all night surely your tired no shouldn't be resting?"

"I'm not in the mood for sleep" he was leaning hard on Jekyll's shoulders though Jekyll didn't budge from his spot "commmeee onnnnn Nurse shark play with me"

"Only after you get some rest not getting any sleep is bad for your mental an physical health" he simply said taking a sip of his tea an putting it on the table "i would have never thought to put truffle oil in tea very unique flavor" Jade smiled at that remark

"so if i got to sleep you'll play with me when i wake up?" he asked his arms flopped on Henry's chest Floyd pressing his cheek against a rather chill heroic spirit considering his circumstances. Jekyll took a deep breath before giving the answer he knew would make his master the happiest "yes"

what he did not anticipate was being lifted into the air an into his arms by said master. "hehe then lets take a nap!" Floyd now holding the heroic spirit bridal style down the a hall "Master this is unnecessary as a servant i can go into spirit form i do not require sleep like you-"

"whose your master!?" he says pouting again at him Henry could only aquite his attuid to a spoiled cat "you are but-"

"then i say we take the biggest nap together an we play a hole bunch when i wake up by then everyone else will be back an we will have way more friends to play with!" he could argue but his master seems much to happy about this so he won't crush his dreams besides one nap won't hurt will it?

To be Continued~ ?

[hukkelberg]

full ask kept getting an error message so i'm seeing if splitting it up works.

this is obnoxiously long bc i am coping w s3 by thinking about pen in asoiaf-verse esp in light of asoiaf always providing v complicated family dynamics that bridgerton glosses over even tho the material is right there❤️ i am also offering a preemptive apology for harping on the arya/tyrion and pen parallels but i just love the thread between those characters of being the parent's (cat for arya, tywin for tyrion, and portia for penelope) least favorite kid despite being the most similar to that parent. okay so actually the tyrell turf is the reach (highgarden more specifically) - they managed to get out of the war of the 5 kings virtually untouched (aside from loras' death) but cersei is fucking them over despite the fact that they are allies in the last book released - i think marg (who would probably be best substituted by someone like daphne) is still being held captive by main westerosi religion's army (that cersei just. let them have bc that woman is genuinely stupid. that whole shame meme came from that same army also imprisoning her. she literally did not even consider that being a problem even tho no westeros king has ever let religious leaders have armies for that reason specifically). i stopped watching the show in s4 bc dany is my girl and by that point the final season had dropped so i saw no reason to continue given how they massacred her. decently sure the tyrells end up completely or near completely killed off in show but it was one of the really weird show decisions everyone hated and grrm had no hand in so the asoiaf tyrell fate is v ??? still. esp now that marg's dad knows cersei had his daughter imprisoned on false charges and is heading to king's landing to deal w it in a v anthony challenging simon to a duel way - anthony would be having an excellent time. his problem solving methods are hilariously well-suited to this world. all of that does sound like the bridgertons could manage it tbh? also wrt benedict i think he would be killed like loras - sorry benedict. genuinely no clue how he would be spending his time in this world. maybe he lives somehow and is then pen's househusband? the tully turf is in the riverlands, which are completely fucked by the war. i actually thought a lot about pen having tully ancestry since she has tully coloring (the red hair and blue eyes) but i didn't like it bc the tully house has extremely mediocre sigil + words which would be annoying to me personally. i do think portia being from the riverlands and ending up w a northern husband like cat could work tho. pen's family could be somewhat influential in that case but still looked down on by southern westerosi bc of their different culture and distance from king's landing. the north is also v fucked by the war so it would still fit. my other thought was pen's family being a kind of mormont equivalent - jorah fucked them over by racking up debt and then resorting to selling ppl into slavery and then getting exiled. sounds kinda familiar for the featheringtons. issue w that is that the mormont girls are known for being trained to fight bc the ironborn constantly bother them and that's not the vibe to me for pen's family? idk tho - faceless men do also receive fight training so it would be helpful later on ig. (1/3)

oh friend dont get me started on season 3 we'll be here all day (they're never gonna go where we want them to are they? Thats the mark of a goodbad show)

okay!! i got it, i just didn't know the name i was thinking abt the riverlands bc i remember seeing someone say how their position in the centre of it all means every army trudges past them and i was like lmao the bridgertons cannot hold that territory. i think margaery = daphne is inspired what i wouldn't give for daphne to be half as cunning as margaery. a terror for high society tbh. Anthony's sense of honour is sometimes medieval (#commentary not approved by a historian, please refer to jacques le goff or whomever for confirmation) so i think it fits in a way. this world is laxer in some ways which i think would loosen anthony up a little, but in a way which mirrors the more outwardly violent way of westeros (his temper shall be fearsome).

hear me out wrt ben: willas tyrell (if that's his name), the older one with the bad leg. Anthony is still the head of the house, but ben was apprenticing with the kingsguard or whateve, and he got in an "accident" (everyone is envious of the bridgertons as usual but here they actually do something about it) i think it'd be wonderful if he went back disabled and everyone was bemoaning it and he was like "this ruins my chances of marriage but at least i don't have to kill anybody" meanwhile COLIN is loras--super well loved, athletic and handsome. i suppose he gets killed. pen would most definitely get a crush on him like that, in that way sansa used to dream of knights and then. Well. If we go the penben route, which i am always happy to entertain, i think it'd be very cute if they reunite after she comes back and he's got his bad leg and ruined future and is so confused about why she'd want him when she's so grand and powerful, and it'd be a lovely role reversal.

re: the featheringtons i agree about the tully colouring but i don't think portia has the tully character. I personally cannot picture any of the featheringtons as northerners whatsoever, not even the mormonts. i don't think they'd last a day past the vale (thats where lysa tully is right? I've not been googling anything I'll have you know sjjdjd). My take is they're affiliated with the lannisters. I think perhaps featherington is a vassal lannister house, which drew portia in on reputation and wealth, which featherington immediately squandered and was probably disposed of by tywin, if he could be bothered to deal with the minor flies. then the wars started and he just let the featherington house to rot or sacrificed them or something. probably took their house etc. you can use that to forge a connection with tyrion, even.

[toacaldoric]

You may sometimes ask yourself, ironically or not, "where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods?" Lemme tell you the answer to that question:

They're all gone. One kind died out long ago, and the other never existed. Three guesses which is which, and none of them count.

Religion, no matter which one you care to name, or what part of the globe it originated from, or how old it is, or anything else you care to cite at me about it, they're all fake. A sham. A con. Mankind has always sought to dominate itself, through might or by slight, usually to the tune of one person (or a small group of individuals) holding the majority of power over all the rest, and reaping the benefits thereof. These methodologies of governance have varied across time, but the earliest example has to be the concept of "Religion", as we call it today.

Way long ago, probably harkening back to the days of our simian ancestors, the cleverer and more knowledgeable of the group found ways to convince the rest that they had actual powers granted to them by some "higher being" by way of sleight of hand and expert storytelling (for their time). Thus claiming to act and speak for their so-called "gods", they went about shaping their clans and tribes and whatnot as they saw fit, passing the torch down the generations, until even the practitioners of these proto-religions we're drinking their own primitive Kool-Aid.

In time, other forms of government arose, with more reliable ways of getting the general population to do what the head person wanted, and more efficiently keeping larger and larger numbers of people in line, and suddenly here we are, thousands of years later, with a bunch of nonsense cluttering our heads with notions of "cosmic powers" that can supposedly dictate our destinies and change our fates and stuff, and we're all too eager to push responsibility for that kind of thing off onto such entities because we're too lazy, scared, and incompetent to take control of our own lives. And what's worse, seeing as most of these religions bearing tenents stating that they are "the only one true religion", and that all others are fakes and must be destroyed or whatever, they only serve to further divide us against ourselves, and to forget logic and fellowship in the process.

In short, face reality, folks, and stop holding onto the pointless fantasies and stuff holding you down. Don't wait for some nonexistent entity to fix your problems for you, take charge and get shit fixed for yourself! Etc etc.

Don't @ me.

[theglitterypages]

Title: Brat

Pairings: levi x fem! Reader

Summary: Instead of Titans, vampires are the one causing horrors in towns, Survey Corps are the vampire slayers who stayed out every night to protect the town together with the Garrison. You accidentally stayed past curfew because you missed your bus. (Time setting in modern times)

Warnings: None

Word count: 2000+

Typographical and grammatical errors ahead!

*****

The sky is already dark, the pale crescent moon shone like a silvery claw in the night sky. The wind was howling as you walk alone, it's not ideal and it's not comfortable to be alone in the streets. You look around you, you couldn't help but shiver as your eyes settled at the big ass trees. It's damn scary.

You can already see your Mother's angry face as she waits for you at home. It's already past curfew, not everyone is brave enough to stay outside their houses at this time of the night, not when there are vampires lurking all over the town.

You silently prayed that the Garrison deployed troops to patrol in this part of the street and if you're lucky enough you hope that the Survey Corps are also around to kill vampires since they're the ones expert in doing so.

The cold wind slapped your face and you shivered, you hugged yourself and held the strap of your sling bag tightly, you still failed to sight any uniformed men around, they're probably late in patrolling again or they already left. Either way, you're in big trouble now.

“Need someone to accompany you, little kitten?” says a deep bloodcurdling voice. Your blood ran cold as you stopped dead on your tracks, you couldn't see where the hell was that voice came from but it's damn near. ”You are a fool to stay outside. Wanting to get eaten aren't you?” that was when a man wearing a black shirt appeared out of the dark part of the street.

“I can already smell your blood from where I stood, I wonder if they taste as delicious as you look.”

You took a step back, both knees trembling as the man slowly close your distance. Given that the man is a vampire—you can see his fangs, you're much slower than him, you focused on your peripheral vision, if you'd run towards the woods, it would be more dangerous, other vampires are probably in there waiting for their preys.

You cussed mentally, before running as fast as you could while you scream at the top pf your lungs, hoping that somebody would hear you. You occasionally look back to see the vampire smiling at you coldly, he's enjoying the chase, purposely running after you in a slow manner so you would get tired and give up but there's no way you'd willingly let him suck off every ounce of your blood.

As you kept on running away from the hideous vampire you suddenly bumped into someone, you gasped in horror, thinking that it was another vampire but you saw a short man wearing a Survey Corps uniform with a light gray button up shirt underneath it along with a white ascot.

He's hot not gonna lie.

“You're a stupid bastard for choosing to hunt while the Survey Corps is around.”

When you looked back at the vampire you can already see the terrified look in his eyes, slowly stepping back from you and the man. “Petra, take this girl somewhere safe. We'll be questioning her later for staying outside at this time of the night.” a short woman with blonde hair and brown eyes appeared, wearing the same uniform that the man wears. She offered her hand to you and you gladly took it so you could stand up, wanting to get away from the danger.

The woman took you somewhere far enough from the short man and the vampire but still near enough to hear whatever they are talking about. “Is it okay that you left him there?" You asked the woman named Petra, she laughed at your question as she shrugged her shoulders. “I would be more scared of that Vampire's fate. Captain Levi's not an easy guy, he has killed hundreds of vampires.” your mouth gaped open at the way she spoke so fondly of the man, you deduced that she's crushing hard on him but who wouldn't? He's looking like a full course meal, he'd probably be arrested for killing all the ladies because of that face.

But that wasn't your business, your eyes went back to the man and the vampire, the vampire was obviously frightened yet he still stood in front of Levi who was calmly holding his swords in both his hands, his green hooded cloak danced with the wind.

Levi smirked at the vampire, “You're not gonna piss your pants right now, are you?” he stepped forward and looked at the vampire with his dull gray eyes, “Don't you even dare think of running.” after that, the vampire already ran away while Levi chased him with ease, his outstanding skills in using vertical maneuvering equipment evidently shows as he chased down the vampire.

When he landed in front of the vampire, he gave him a cold smirk, “What makes you think that you can escape from me?” the vampire charged himself towards Levi but Levi swiftly avoided his blow, he kicked his knees and stepped on his back. “You will see where your boastfulness would bring you, Ackerman.” Levi flipped the vampire over and pointed his sword at his heart, his foot firmly pressed against his stomach, making him incapable of moving.

“Shut up and die.”

He struck his sword on the vampire's heart, killing him instantly, it only took seconds for him to turn into ashes, Levi boredly placed his sword back to its place as he quielty walked away from the scene heading back to where you are.

Your knees quivered when he stopped in front of you, you are short yourself and he's still an inch taller than you, despite of the not so big height difference you couldn't help but be intimidated as his dull gray eyes pierced onto your soul. “Captain, we should interrogate her at the nearest headquarters, Commander Erwin would—” Levi raised his hand to stopped Petra from talking, “There's no need for that. This brat's parents are probably looking for her now.” he said in a monotone.

“Captain Levi!”

Your head snapped towards the direction of the voices you heard, you see four men running as they shout Levi's name over and over but as they got closer you've come to recognize one of them. “Eren?!” you shouted when he finally stopped in front of you. “Y/N?! What are you doing in here?! You're the one attacked by a vampire?!” he shouted as he held both of your shoulders, shaking you violently.

Eren is a friend of yours, you met him because of his parents, you two knew each other since you were kids. “Are you okay?! Did that vampire do anything bad to you?” he looked at you from head to foot before shaking you again.

Before you could even scold him, Levi's hand flew to the back of his head. Eren winced as he rubbed the sore spot, staring at his Captain with wide eyes.

“The vampire wasn't even able to touch her loud brat, you're the one making so much damage. She'd probably lose more of her brain cells because of how violent you shook her.” Levi deadpanned.

Eren blinked twice as he pouted, you suddenly felt Levi held your elbow and turned you so you could face him. “Before we let you go, what the fuck are you doing outside? You could've been one of the corpse we'd take at the town's morgue.” You frowned at him as you removed his hand on your elbow, “I was at the school library, I missed the last bus. I got no choice but to walk.” Levi crossed his arms over his chest as he narrowed his eyes at you.

Gunther slowly pulled back Petra away from you and Levi, “He looks so pissed.” Eren whispered worriedly as he stood beside Eld. Oluo snickered beside Eren before leaning in to whisper, “He always look like that, kid. Get used to it.” Eren gulped and his eyes settled at you and Levi once more.

“Are you even thinking? Troops are dying everyday to save this town and here you are, roaming the streets past curfew as if offering yourself to the vampires. What kind of stupidity is this?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, imitating his pose as you raise your chin up. “Look, I'm thankful that you saved my life but you better watch your mouth, Shorty." Gunther, Eld, Oluo, Eren and Petra coughed to surpress their laughter. They never heard anyone talk back to their captain the way you do and it was very amusing.

“Did you just call me, Shorty?” he tilted his head looking at you from head to toe before smirking deviously, “You're not the one to talk.” he insulted back, his grey eyes staring into yours.

You gasped. “Are we done now, shorty? My Mom's probably looking for me now. I have no time for your childish shits.” the man is hot but he's getting on your nerves, those gray eyes are mesmerizing but he's too much to handle.

Levi was amused, it was the very first time that someone bravely insulted him back, as much as his pride was hurt at the shorty comment he commends you for entertaining him. It was fun to have someone shot back insults at him, his comrades are always afraid to talk back to him but you, you're different, very different.

“Did somebody ever told you that you're such a brat?”

“Did somebody ever told you that you're a dick?”

Eren stepped in between the two of you, he slowly pushed you away from Levi as he whispered at you, “I'll take you home, we have to get away from here as soon as possible.” you grimaced, “What? He insulted me first!” you complained but Eren shook his head at you, telling you to stop talking.

He's not really ready to face Levi's wrath, not when he just got kicked by his captain few days ago, it was painful as fuck.

He knew Levi wouldn't dare hit a girl but no shit Sherlock the heated argument between the two of you might escalate more and he doesn't know how it would end but he's sure it wouldn't end really well.

“Captain, I'll be meeting you at the headquarters, I just gotta take Y/N home.” Eren smiled awkwardly.

Levi shook his head firmly as he took a step forward to pull Eren away from you. “You have to stay with them, Eren. You know exactly why, I'll take her home.” Eren's eyes widened as he hold onto Levi's arms. “Captain, my friend was just joking about everything she said.” Levi's eyes settled on Eren's hands that are clutched onto his sleeve.

“If I saw that there's a dirt in my sleeve because of your filthy hand, you'll sleep at the basement.”

Eren immediately let go of Levi's sleeves. He's afraid for what might happen if Levi would be the one to accompany you to your home but he's more afraid of his own fate, you're a strong independent woman, he's damn sure you can handle yourself.

“Wait right here. Watch out for vampires.” Levi ordered.

You stared up at him as his bangs got blown by the wind, he looks so good with that undercut, those gray eyes are attractive too but you also noticed the dark circles around it, he's probably sleep deprived, given that he works in the Survey corps. Poor little beaitiful thing, wait, what? “What, brat? You gonna stay here staring at me or we'll get going so you could go home?” you snapped out of your thoughts and rolled your eyes.

“Ugh. Fine, bye Eren.” you waved at your friend and he waved back with an awkward smile. “Bless you, Y/N.” Petra couldn't help but stare at you and Levi with genuine shock written all over her face, why Levi is insisting to take you home? He's not the type to do such thing.

“Captain we could—” before she could suggest that she'll walk you home herself, Levi already talked over her. “Save it, Petra. Stay here and wait for me to get back.” he commanded before he gently pushed you so you could start walking.

The first few minutes of walking with Levi was filled by awful silence but he was the first one to talk.

“Just so you know, once we spotted you roaming the streets past curfew again, I'll bring you to Erwin.”

“This is the first time I stayed out past curfew. Not doing it again.” you snickered and Levi let out a low chuckle.

“You better keep your words, brat.” he whispered as he raked his fingers in his jet black hair, as the two of you walk in silence again, you couldn't help but observe him in your peripheral view.

Levi is quite short but his physique is well developed, the man has the charm to make every girls crazy just by the way he walks like he owns the streets, he's attractive only if he's not so sassy.

You snorted at the thought and Levi's gaze landed at you, “Still cursing me in your head?" He smirked, triggering you to talk back to him but you chose not to, you were too preoccupied because of his scent, he smells like fresh soap with a calming aroma of manliness.

Sweet Lord, he smells so damn good.

Levi noticed how your cheeks slowly turned to crimson red, he doesn't have any idea why but he assumed that you're red because you're so pissed because of him. He found himself staring at you for so long, as you walk with your head slightly down, your hair freely sway with the cold breeze, its vanilla scent tickles his nostrils and he almost cussed underneath his breath as he inhaled your feminine scent.

“Ahm, Captain...we're already here in front of our house.”

Levi jerked out of his thoughts and he stared at the house in front of him. “Hmm, you should go inside.” he told you as he pointed the brown metal gate of your house, you awkwardly held onto the strap of your sling bag, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you stared at Levi.

“Well, ahm. Sorry for acting like a brat earlier and thank you for saving me.” you told him in a low voice as you looked down trying to hide the blush creeping in your cheeks.

Levi found it adorable, he clicked his tongue as he clasped his hands together. “It's fine, go inside your house, brat. You better be home before curfew on the next days and don't spend much time with Eren.” you looked up at him, confused why you were being told not to spend too much time with your best friend.

“He's my best friend.”

“Just follow my orders, he doesn't need a distraction in our duties.”

Levi wouldn't be able to say that Eren is now a vampire, it's a classfied information and it shall stay within the members of the Survey Corps but he has to warn you, Eren is unstable every time he'll turn into a vampire, they're still looking for ways to turn him back to normal.

“Fine. I gotta go inside, thank you.” you gave him a small smile and Levi somehow froze in his position but he managed to nod at you as he turned his back, ready to walk away but you called after him.

“Levi!”

When Levi looked back, you were already standing in front of him, his lips inches away from yours, he breathed heavily but you didn't notice. You just fished something out of your pocket, you took Levi's hand and placed a pack of wet wipes in his hand.

“There's a dirt on your sleeve. You better wipe it, it looks filthy.” You winked before running towards the gate of your house, opening it silently as you walked to the main door calling out your Mother's name while Levi was stucked from where he stood.

His eyes was fixated on the pack of wet wipes and slowly, he smiled at the sight of it but his smile quickly faded when his gaze landed on his sleeves, it was indeed dirty, Eren's dirty hands left a mark on it.

“Fuck it, Eren.” he growled.

[thiswasinevitableid]

sea monster indruck nsfw? maybe including one of them masturbating while fantasizing about the other one and confessing all their dirty thoughts as they're actually having sex? scary protective monster is also always hot if you're down for that

Here you go! I wasn’t able to fit in everything, but this one was fun!

This is all the hangman's fault. 

Indrid could be pleasantly dead right now, not trapped in a gibbet on a clifftop, if the man had bothered to check his ropes ahead of time. But no, instead he failed to see the rats had been gnawing on them and the blasted noose snapped clean off the instant it took Indrids weight. To the villagers, this was a sign that Indrid was indeed a witch (and the son of a demon, a rare charge that drags his poor, deceased mother into this mess). To Indrid, it meant a new set of bruises and the worst possible death. 

They locked him in the gibbet, the Atlantic crashing in angry, grey waves far below them. The man on his right is dead, eyeballs already plucked out by an enterprising bird, and the man on his left is getting there. If his visions are accurate, Indrid has a good five days of suffering the elements, the wild-life, and his own hunger and thirst before he joins them. 

A lifetime of visions breeds resignation in the face of fate, so he closes his eyes, follows the futures of luckier men as a temporary escape. The screams of his neighbor rouse him with a start. Their source is wholly unexpected. 

Looming at the edge of the cliff is an immense monster. From his vantage point, Indrid spies the creatures’ lower body still submerged in the sea, making it well over a hundred feet tall. It’s skin is green, it’s fingers webbed, and it’s crowned by a frill of wave-shaped spikes. The face is humanoid, with green eyes and hair of black water and a squid-beak where a mouth should be. Strange tentacles appear and disappear along its torso, as if they have not made up their mind as to whether they wish to exist. 

The monster sighs, “Fuckin hate it when they leave their dead like this. Unsightly, and I ain’t sure it’s good for the seagulls to be eatin humans.”

“The dead and, ah, almost dead do not enjoy it much either.” 

Upon hearing Indrids voice, the creature peers into his cage, “Huh, guess you ain’t dead. Either of you.” He turns his eyes on the other condemned man, who starts screaming again, “why’d they stick you here?”

“Witchcraft, specifically foresight and dabbling in ‘black magic.’ Well, that and a failed hanging” He tilts his head to show the visitor the rope mark. 

“Damn, that looks like it hurts. Wonder if I can..” the tip of an immense claw extends towards him. There’s a crackle of power that makes his ears pop, and the monster pulls his hand back, “nope, fuck, was hopin it’d be a small enough thing to do.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The monster sighs, “Long story short, my kind ain’t able to interact in an, uh, altruistic fashion with humans unless they’re acolytes. Can’t even open that damn cage without gettin zapped. Never mind that some of us don’t even wanna be old gods or whatever the fuck, still ain’t allowed to help. Maybe if I get a real big stick..”

“How does one become an acolyte?” Indrid presses his face to the front of the cage.

“Uh, you gotta swear loyalty and servitude to me, specifically, and the ‘old gods’ in general, live in a place I set up for you, and do stuff when I need you to.”

“Very well, are there specific words of the oath or…”

“Whoah, hold up now” the creature raises his hands, “this shit is real bindin’, rather you not rush into it.”

“Given the alternative is death, a rush is rather necessary.”

“All I’m sayin is you might wanna think for more than two seconds before you agree! And there might be other ways for me to get you out.”

“Do..do you not want an acolyte?” Being rejected by a sea monster feels like a fitting end to his life. 

“Not really. It ain’t personal or anythin; I’m just now leanin into the whole god thing and I still ain’t all that comfortable with parts if it. Last thing I want is an acolyte who saw me as ‘not as bad as death.”

“And the last thing I want is to die of exposure, so we are at an impasse.”

The monster clicks his beak once, “Okay, here’s what I’ll do. You take until sunset to think over whether you wanna be stuck servin’ this” he gestures to himself, “for a long-ass time, and we’ll go from there.”

“Very well.” Indrid resigns himself to several more hours of misery as the creature sinks from view. He glances at the other prisoner, “what do you think? He seems very considerate for a sea monster and I for one would like to keep living.”

The man stares, babbles incoherently for a moment before shouting, “You, you conversed with a devil! You are a witch, just as they say!”

“He spoke to both of us.” Indrid blinks, puzzled. 

“I closed my ears to his lies, you offered yourself to his wickedness! Speak no more to me from your black tongue.”

“Hmmph” Indrid does his best to ignore the ongoing beration. He’s not sure the creature is a god, but then again the creature seems uncertain on the matter himself. Serving a maybe-god seems no worse than serving the king, a life among the depths no less tolerable than his small home in a town torn to pieces by accusations of witchcraft. 

After a time, the storm clouds fulfill their purpose, a downpour battering him from all angles. Then a shadow falls over his shut eyes, and no more rain touches him. 

“Seemed awful rude to leave you stuck in the rain while you thought things over.” The god explains, one massive hand shielding the human. 

“Many thanks. Ah, I do have one concern about being your acolyte. Would...would I have to hurt anyone?”

“Don’t think so. I ain’t fond of hurtin folks, and if someone did need to be hurt, seems real strange to make the tiny human do it.”

Indrid puts on his most hopeful, charming smile, “I am very cold, very hungry, and my whole being feels as though it’s been stomped on by a team of horses. Perhaps I could give my answer early?”

A chuckle, like bubbles in deep water, “Hard to say no to that face. Okay, you got a deal. I checked with Joe while I was gone, to make sure I knew the right thing to do if you said yes. I’m gonna say the oath, and you’re gonna repeat it.”

Indrid nods, makes his way laboriously through the incantation in a gurgling language he does not know. The god patiently guides him along, cracks open the cage when the last word is spoken. 

“Do I get to know your name? If it was one of those words, it will take me some time to master it.”

The monsters’ cheeks rise, suggesting a smile, “You can call me Duck. It’s a nickname. C’mon” he holds out his hand, “let’s get you outta the rain.”

“One moment.” Indrid moves to the other gibbet, undoing the lock, “you can get free if you wish. If anyone asks how, tell them it was the witch.” With that, he settles in Duck’s cupped palms, the skin smooth and cool to the touch. 

“Down we go.” Duck sinks. 

“Wait, how will I bre-” water fills his mouth, but only for a moment. A clear bubble forms around him, let’s him gulp in air as Duck dives further into the sea. More jarring than the spell is the sight of the monster unfurling behind him. He assumed Duck had legs, but instead his lower body is that of a sea-serpent, green with bronze rings and undulating in the dark waves. 

“Like what you see?”

“Yes” he wonders what touching that tail is like.

“Yeah, this is a real beautiful part of the sea. If you want, some time I can take you further out; some spectacular lookin creatures out there. Here we go, home sweet home.” They surface at the base of a much shorter cliff, Indrid woozy from the change in depth. Three cottages--one red, one gold, and one blue-- stare back at them from a grassy hill. 

“Let’s see if I can do this” Duck sets Indrid on the ground, closes his eyes, and hums. The world shudders and splits, and then a fourth, emerald green cottage sits alongside the others. 

“Ha! Pretty damn good for a first effort.” His frill flickers with silver light.

“It’s wonderful.”

“All yours. You get yourself settled, I'm gonna go find out from the others what else needs doin’ now that I got an acolyte.” He lowers himself so the two of them are roughly face to face, “see you soon, Indrid.”

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

The cottage holds more possessions than Indrid’s ever had in his life, including a large feather bed that he stretches his aching body across before falling asleep and dreaming of seaweed twining up his legs. 

Voices from the window rouse him some hours later. At the side of the red cottage sit three other humans, two of whom are at work in a vegetable garden. Indrid ventures down to introduce himself. 

“Hi!” One, a woman with golden hair, waves to him, “you must be Indrid. I’m Dani, this is Barclay” she points to the bearded man harvesting potatoes, then to a tattooed man polishing a pile of gold and silver jewelry, “and that’s Boyd.” 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. You are all acolytes as well?” His stomach rumbles and Barclay pauses his digging to slide him a basket containing bread and cheese.

“Help yourself, those are leftover from lunch. And yeah, we are. Or were, in Dani’s case.”

Even with foresight, Indrid is surprised when the woman says jokingly, “Got promoted to ‘wife’ a few months.”

“Congratulations.” It seems the appropriate thing to say, given her smile, “ah, what exactly do you all do for your gods? Duck is rather unclear on the details.”

“Some of it is spellwork. Beings like Duck have some innate power, but they can get more of it from an acolyte doing rituals or making offerings. Joseph, that’s my monster, Duck, and a few others aren’t sold on the idea that they’re meant to destroy humans, so they spend a lot of time keeping other monsters from doing just that. Our spellwork gives them an edge. Other than that, it really depends on who you’re working for; I spent a lot of my first month helping Joseph understand that hauling himself up onto a random dock to ask questions is not the best way to learn about humans. Boyd spends a lot of time maintaining Ned’s treasure.”

“Only because he bloody tricked me into workin for him. Just bidin my time until the deal runs out. You hear that Chicane!” Boyd yells towards the water, “don’t care how much you steal, I’ll get my share and run one of these days.”

To Indrid’s ear, the sea laughs in reply. Boyd grumbles and returns to his work. 

“He’s just annoyed because he and Ned thought they could outwit each other; Boyd was on a prison ship bound for Jamaica and Ned offered him an out. Apparently they spent hours haggling over the terms.” Dani leans closer, whispers, “Boyds left twice, comes back every time saying he’s bored without someone to challenge him.”

They talk a while longer, Dani promising to bring Indrid some hens and a goat from town, Boyd giving him some firewood, and Barclay explaining the network of sea caves in the surrounding hills. When there’s a knock at the door, he opens it expecting another human and jumps when this is not the case. 

“Evenin’” Duck smiles as he slithers into the house, “brought you a few more things.”

“You got smaller.” 

“Can change my size some, though this is about as small as I can get.” He’s still two heads taller than Indrid, who notes that the ceilings are just high enough to accommodate him, as if the god built the cottage with visits in mind. 

Duck sets a bucket of fresh oysters in the kitchen along with a large slab of butter, some milk, and some sugar, “Had one of my human friends bring me these. And, uh, I made you this” he holds up a cloak in the same colors as his tail. It fits Indrid snugly, shutting out the chilly air and making him feel rather grand indeed. 

“C’mere” Duck pats a kitchen chair, “lemme take care of your neck.”

Indrid sits, shudders when webbing and claws rub sticky balm into his skin. The gods hands easily encircle his neck, a realization that stirs heat deep in his stomach. Duck talks as he works, a meandering story about a shipwreck, and Indrid finds he enjoys his manner of speech. The initial discomfort of the touches subside, the balm washing the pain in his neck away like a wave erasing a message in the sand. Cool hands wrapped around his throat turn as comforting as the fire crackling in the stove. 

“That looks like it healed. Good” Duck’s beak fondly nips his ear, “gotta make sure my servant is in good condition.”

“Mmmm” Indrid bumps his chest with his head, hoping for more; tomorrow he’ll ask the others if it’s commonplace for an acolyte to lounge in the coils of their gods lap like a housecat. 

The beak touches his ear once more, biting it lightly with little kissing sounds.

“Huh'' two tentacles catch Indrid as he tips sideways, his body deciding that the earlier nap was not enough rest, “didn’t think you’d find that soothin. Did it by accident, it’s how my kind show affection.”

“S’very nice” Indrid mumbles, dimly aware of being carried. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Y’know, in case I need to reward you for somethin.” Duck lays him in bed, pulls a thick blanket over him, and bids him goodnight. Indrid is sound asleep before the door closes. 

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

“Ngahka miskato--ah! Give that back” Indrid wrenches his spectacles free from hold of a far too inquisitive octopus. The creature squirts him with water, then disappears back into its pool. 

Each of the gods has a sea cave in which their acolytes perform their rituals. Since the processes involves ancient, dark magic, all manner of strange sea life makes its way to the caves. Some, like the octopus or the seals that bob in the distance or flop on the rocks to nap, are known to him. Others might be classified as indescribable horrors from the deep, though Indrid thinks they look like crustaceans with a few too many limbs or the offspring of an eel and devil fish. 

His oath to Duck allows him to read the spells, and his pronunciation is improving. Duck’s requests center on defense; letting himself take greater damage from an enemy, be better able to protect his friends, that sort of thing. Indrid even found a ritual that gives the god new cloaking abilities, which he’s used to make the cottages disappear on the hillside and thus keep curious townsfolk away.  He also found one that allows Duck to remain out of water for well over a day.

The Duck who visits him in the cave and the one who stops by his home may be radically different sizes, but his disposition is constant. He talks about the kelp forests and the animals, about his annoyance with his supposed destiny as “destroyer of all man.” He conjures fine clothes from seaweed, furniture from driftwood, and brings Indrid newly made grins embedded with fresh pearls. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one serving you?” Indrid will tease.

“Way I see it, we serve each other. Don’t care what that fuckin oath said.”

Indrid is feeding his hens one evening when his luck catches up with him; his human friends are all standing at the edge of Dani’s house, peering anxiously around it’s corner and down the hill. Joining them, he sees a crowd marching with torches and an assortment of lethal farm equipment. 

“What the fuck are they doing? You were just in town today and everything was fine” Barclay glances at Dani, who shrugs, worried.

“My visions tell me that as they get closer we will hear them yelling about witches and that I will recognize many of them. I suspect my fellow gibbet-occupant told them about Duck.” He sighs, “I’ll try to lead them on a chase, get them away from all of you.” 

Indrid runs into the evening before the others, or his own common sense, can stop him. Keeping to the cliffside, he lets them glimpse his hair and his red glasses, both used at the trial as proof of his wicked nature. His plan is to take a secret tunnel down into the caves, but his visions alert him a moment too late to the fact there are two, not one, groups of villagers. He’s outflanked on the cliff, holds up his hands to show he means no harm.

“I understand my continued existence alarms and confuses you, but that is no reason to go running about with weapons. Would you kindly leave me alone?”

“No, witch, we will not.” The head of the party shouts over the wind. 

“I have a name, you know.” He grumbles, looking behind him and wondering if his status as an acolyte grants him immunity from death by falling in the water. 

“You have already confessed to your black work, and we have on good authority you have made a pact with the devil. There is nowhere to run, and if you come quietly I promise we will hang you properly this time.”

“And if I do not?”

“We shall see to it that your body is scattered about this cliffside before the night is out.” The mob moves forward and Indrid stumbles back, the earth giving out beneath his feet. 

He lands with a yelp in a smooth, large hand. As Duck rises more fully from the waves, the crowd freezes, struck dumb with fear. 

“Y’all ain’t gonna touch him, y’hear? Indrid’s under my protection and in case it ain’t obvious, I could smoosh the whole damn bunch of you without breakin a sweat. So, what you’re gonna do is turn around and go back to your village, and I’ll forget this ever happened. If you come after him again, I’m gonna start taking out ships in your harbor. We clear?”

The panicked flight of the mod downhill suggests he’s made his point. 

Duck carries Indrid home, joining him in the cottage once he can fit through the door. The monster follows him upstairs, pulling him into his arms.

“Thought I was gonna lose you.”

“That makes two of us.” 

Duck nuzzles the top of his head, “You mind if I stay here tonight? Little worried some of them might get it into their heads to come back and hurt you.”

No futures show this, but Indrid nods all the same. Duck curls up near the bed, not leaving until the morning sun shines through the window. He does the same the next night, and the night after that, and soon it’s been two weeks of the god talking softly with Indrid as the human falls asleep. 

When Indrid shyly asks if Duck will join him, his monster lays as comfortably as he can on the right side of the bed. Indrid is now used to waking up with a tail looped around his leg or a tentacle clinging to his arm. 

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

Indrid is just drifting off when the covers slide aside and weight slithers up the bed. He opens his eyes; Duck is on his side, facing him, annoyed. 

“What troubles you, my dark excellency?” Indrid nudges Ducks’ lower belly with his toes. He’s taken to calling Duck increasingly absurd things, and the monster calls him “faithful servant” or “esteemed attendant” in reply. 

Tonight, Duck just sighs, “Y’know how I was supposed to do somethin important tonight, bein’ that it’s the second full moon in the month? Turns out that somethin was, ‘spread my seed among the beds of men’ so our kind will gradually overrun the surface.” He clicks his beak with a snort, “don’t that sound fun?”

“No.”

“Smart little thing, ain’t you?” Duck teases, cups Indrid’s chin, “Yeah, I said no. Problem is, apparently a second full moon makes my whole body wanna fuck, which is why that prophecy was supposed to happen tonight.”

Indrid looks down, sees something rippling under the skin at the upper part of Duck’s tail. 

“I’m gonna try sleepin it off.”

His visions give him courage; Duck turns him down in most futures, but none of them end in death or bodily harm, which at his point in his life is all he asks. 

“Or you could, ah, allow me to help you.”

Green eyes blink, slow and calculating, “‘Drid, that ain’t part of your job.”

“No…” Indrid scoots across the sheets, tentatively runs his fingers up Duck’s side, “but that is not why I’m offering.”

“No?” The rest of his tail joins them on the bed, curving so it traps Indrid against him, “Then why are you offerin, sweet human of mine?”

“Because I, ah, I want, that is I would very much like to know you in that way, and I thought it was allowed based on the others, I apologize if it’s not, I did not mean to-” He freezes as Duck cups his face, nipping his ear and throat with a kissing noise.

“‘Drid?”

“Y-yes, my lord of the depths?” He’s breathless, drowning in Duck’s gaze. 

“Stop apologizin and take off your clothes.”

Indrid flails until nothing is between him and his monster. 

“Thats better” Duck’s voice deepens, washing over him like rough waves, “now, come serve your god.” He pats what Indrid thinks of as his waist, the point where his human qualities disappear entirely. 

“As you wish” Indrid tries for a coquettish smile as he straddles him, but it gives way to surprise as the slit in Ducks skin parts. 

“I was not expecting tentacles. Which, given the rest of you, was naive.”

“Not usin that future vision of yours to see what’s comin’?” The webbing of Duck’s fingers is like velvet as it caresses Indrid’s chest.

“It is difficult to focus on such things when you are here. You command my attention. You always have.”

Duck flicks his tongue across Indrid’s lower lip, “Now that kind of devotion I could get used to.”

“It is yours whenever you want it.”

A tentacle emerges from his side, petting Indrid’s face, “My Indrid. You been so good for me, so faithful and true. Letting me babble about seaweed and when my claws through that pretty hair. And you just keep gettin better.” 

“Please” Indrid rests his head against Duck’s chest, hugging him as best as his size will allow, “please teach me how to serve you this way too.”

“I can do that. You don’t gotta lift a finger.” Several of the tendrils that comprise his cock twine together to form a single appendage. The tentacle on his face gains a twin and the pair slide down to his ass, parting it.

Indrid’s thighs are uncooperative, struggle to get and keep him in the right position to sink down. He curses, reaches down to adjust only for a thicker tentacles to bind both wrists and yank them up above his head. 

“Uh uh, I said no finger-liftin and I meant it.”

Indrid moans, his cock filling as he discovers there’s no way to free himself. He expects Duck to guide him into place with his hands. The end of his tail encircles Indrid’s hips while his claws trace arcane shapes on his skin. 

“I, I did not know it was quite so dextrousOH, oh god.” The tip of that strange cock pushes in, pulsing little by little to stretch him open without pain. 

“Right here.” Duck nibbles his hair with that same kissing sound, “I got you. Take such good care of my faithful human.”

“Oh god” Indrid can’t come up with anything else to express the sensation of Duck sinking deeper into his body, of how safe he feels stretched out and stretched open in the monsters hold. He tips his head back with a cry as Duck bottoms out and his cock moves fluid and disjointed all at once. It’s pulsing, thrusting him full on each inward push, yet it’s individual tendrils curve and curl within him independent of the whole. 

“More, oh god, please, please never ever ever stop.”

 A fond chuckle, “That good huh? Maybe that prophecy was wrong. Maybe what I’m supposed to do is fuck you full and then drop you in town so you can spread the word of how good my dick is. Be my consort and prophet all in one. Get everyone clamorin for the chance for me to fuck them.”

“No” Indrid squirms, petulant, “you’re my master. Not theirs.”

A louder laugh this time, “You gonna take the amount of fuckin I was supposed to do to a whole town yourself?” A tendril curls around Indrid’s aching cock. 

“Yes” He wails, rolls his hips “you may have me as often as you please, I want you too, I’ll, I’ll be your faithful servant always.”

“You’re already somethin better; you’re my ‘Drid.” Duck twists the tendril and Indrid’s lost, his orgasm knocking breath from his chest and tears from his eyes as white spatters the green of Duck’s abdomen. 

“That’s it darlin, lookit you bein so good, cummin for your master. Think it’s time for you to make good on your promise to take whatever I give you.” The tail lifts Indrid up and down as Duck cums, the monster not so much as pausing before thrusting his hips harder, “fuuuck that’s good, my perfect servant, my ‘Drid, takin me so well.”

Indrid sobs as another burst of cum enters him and a strange feeling fills his chest; he’s buzzing with blindingly bright power. It’s coming from Duck, he knows this, and in the haze of his submissive state he understands the depth of his divinity.

“Duck” he whimpers as more tentacles twist around his limbs, the god losing himself in his pursuit of pleasure, filling Indrid until his belly twinges and his eyes fight to remain open. When the god groans out the humans name a final time, Indrid is so enveloped by him he wonders if they’ll ever fully disentangle. 

The monster carries him to the washroom, Indrid still squirming on his cock, and gently pulls him free to set him in the tub. A flick of his hand fills it with warm seawater.

“You okay?”

“I doubt I will be able to walk tomorrow.” Indrid smiles to show he relishes this fact.

“Guess I’ll be spendin tomorrow waitin on you.” Duck joins him in the tub, coiling protectively around him as he washes his chest and thighs.

“I thought I was the servant here?” Indrid cuddles closer, kissing Duck on the tip of his beak.

“Nah. Far as I’m concerned, we take care of each other.”