#i always knew i wanted some sort of no mercy route when i was first brainstorming the vn

[derpychocho]

"It's the perfect opportunity."

True LOVE // Happy 3rd anniversary, Dating Start!

The visual novel where you can fall in love LOVE with Sans the skeleton. =)

[arcadejohn127-9]

I read the Diavolos ball and angsty stuff, can I please please please get a happy ending to go with it?

This has been a highly requested and I must give my poor followers comfort after this straight up angst

So everyone, let's get into it! Some hurt and comfort to soothe your hearts

Warning: angst, long

I'll be putting this under readmore as it is long and I have had someone before say they wanted me to add it on long posts, I never really got any feedback about what I could do better and how this will help with people's viewing but I understand why, long posts can be annoying

If you guys think I should do this with all my long posts please comment or dm me or even state it in asks/requests - I wanna do what I can to make things enjoyable for people

Part 1 - beginning

Diavolo's ball aftermath

It's been a few days since they've seen you; they expected to find you in the dorm. Some fear you went back to the human world; there was no messages, no note - there was nothing. You were completely gone.

Everyone was losing it. The brothers got more aggressively with each other, no longer able to have you come between them. Your presence was so soothing to all of them but now you were gone. As soon as they realized you were gone the whole air of the dorm shifted. It wasn't right.

Mammon got desperate to know where you were. He handed one of his crows a necklace he got you, you promised to never take it off. His heart shattered when he saw it was on your desk. He wasn't sure what he did wrong - why did you take it off? What happened to you?

It wasn't long before the crow came back to the devildom; reporting that you were in fact in the human world. The brothers were devastated. They had to tell the others and they had to watch the hopeful shine in their eyes die.

They could all feel thankful you were unharmed but you were so far. You did this to get away from them. You didn't even leave a damn note!

Diavolo ordered everyone to go to the human world. They all split up into different parties to get you, whoever could get you first had to interrogate you. It didn't take a genius to understand that the Noble told you something horrible - why else would you have such a reaction? Barbatos was tasked to 'calmly discuss' that night with said noble but regardless of how rough and merciless he was; he refused to talk.

It was wasting time and energy. If he wasn't going to talk then they had to get the answer from you. A few were able to gather the gist of what he told you from your conversation before you disappeared; you were convinced you were being used and just a replacement, a pawn to them.

They wanted the full story. The whole reason. Anything! Just to understand why you would push them away and disappear like this. What have they done to make the nobles words feel so real to you? They needed to fix it.

The demon brother's split into a team of two; eldest and youngest, the royals stayed together and the elder exchange students were a double team aswell.

The crows lead the teams their way, splitting up to different routes to see if they could circle you so they could talk to you even if you decided to run.

In the end they found you, you were across the pavement, a train coming. The pedestrian stop dinged as it commanded people to stop but the men couldn't help themselves.

"(Y/N)!!!"

You whipped around, shocked. You thought your ears were playing tricks on you but there was the boys. Your boys. Tears bubbled in your eyes. You couldn't believe it. They followed you to the human world.

The world slowed down; the wind blowing against you as your eyes widened at the sight of them. They looked exhausted, some even with tear streaked cheeks. The more impulsive bunch being held back so they don't go running towards you. The street lights illuminated all of you; their appearance looked just as broken as their hearts.

The train rammed itself between you all. Disturbing the moment with its blaring horn, the screeching wheels ringing in your ears. It was the second you had to decide; do you run? Or do you stay?

To let them get you and finally face your emotions or run away, avoid everything and keep letting despair consume you.

You stayed. You couldn't move at all. It was if you were glued to the spot. But you knew it was just your heart aching for them; desperate to hold them and cry out your pain.

As soon as they could, they all rushed to your side. Hugging you, grabbing at your arms and head to pull you close to them. You choked on your tears as you let the 11 men hug you and check your face and clothes. All just wanting to make sure you were really there and unharmed.

You missed them all dearly and you were so happy they missed you too.

But then the big question was asked.

"what happened that night?"

"he said he was happy to meet me...asked for a dance and I said yes, I never should of, he kept telling me I was just Diavolo's pawn, Lilith's replacement and convinced me none of actually cared for me....I believed him.....I felt so unsure and he knew so much about us I just couldn't stop the doubts in my head....I'm so sorry-!"

Lucifer:

He couldn't believe that noble said that to you

He hastily grabbed your face, wiping away your tears

"You will never be and never have been her replacement, you are your own person, your connection to our sister means nothing other than comfort that she was able to be happy and that's it - I apologize if we have made you feel like you are a replacement and have compared you to her.... please understand we just miss her very dearly but we all want you in our life more than anything."

You buried your face into his shoulder

Sobbing your heart out as you kept chanting apologies and gratitude in a broken voice

He silenced you, holding you close

The prideful demon hid his face as best as he could and let tears drip down his cheeks

He was so relived to have you back

It seemed that noble wasn't only going to be visited by barbatos

Lucifer was not known for being merciful

Mammon:

He grabbed your arm and hastily tugged you towards him

His other hand cradled the back of your head

"Don't ever run away again, you understand?! I'm supposed to be the one protecting ya and how am I supposed to do that if you're off running in different realms without telling anyone??!! That noble doesn't know anything! I don't know how he knew about Lilith but you ain't her, you're (Y/N) And that's it! You are your own person - you gotta call out my dumbass-ary if I compare or make you feel that way, I would never do it on purpose! I like you and only you! I can't lose you again!"

He pushed his forhead against yours

A shaky exhale leaving him

You tried to apologize but he cut you right off, hugging you closer

He was going to make that Noble pay for ever making you doubt yourself like this

To doubt how much he loves you

Levithan:

He was already crying

He was crying before you even considered crying

He rushed to you and grabbed your hands

"I got so scared I did something, Don't listen to that normie! Normies are losers for a reason! There's no one else I would want as my best friend - no one will ever be a better game partner than you! You always make me feel happy and proud to be me-! I couldn't ask for anything more from you! I miss Lilith but I miss you even more! You're my favourite person, you're not some replacement, you're you! You're my player 2-! I'm sorry if I made you feel like you're not as amazing as you are, please don't leave again!"

It wasn't long after his speech he hugged you

Squeezing you tightly as he relished in having you back in real life 3D

since you were gone he kept playing as your game avatars

Using ai set ups to feel like he was with you again in VR

That noble will not stand a chance against his fury

Satan:

He wasn't sure if he was mad at you or himself

It was most likely both - mad you left and let someone just destory so much work and progression in one meeting

But mad at himself for not making you feel secure

He couldn't bring himself to hug you but that was because he was scared he wouldn't let go

"I knew that Noble was nothing but a menace-! You can't listen to people like him, he's just trying to get to you and tear us apart - I don't know why he would do that but he isn't right, he will never EVER be right! You are yourself and never will be Lilith, I didn't get to me her or really know who she was but I do know you will never be her and never were her! I care so much about you and I will make sure to keep my stupid brothers to never make you feel that way again, I've missed you so much (Y/N)."

In the end, he fell into your arms

Holding you tight as he let out his tears of frustration go

You apologized but he just told you to shut up, he didn't want you to be sorry for being the victim

He already had plans on what he's going to do to that noble, trying to push those thoughts away

Focusing on how wonderful it is to have you close

Asmodeus:

As soon as he could reach you, he pulled you into an embrace

Shaking his head as tears streamed down

His makeup already starting to to drip along work his tears

"No! No! No! Noooo!! Don't listen to that horrible noble! He isn't right at all, he doesn't know anything about us or you! He obviously doesn't know how much we care about you and like you as your own person, I never meant to make you feel as if you were some sort of replacement! Lilith was her own being and so are you, your connection means nothing! I i will always be happy knowing my sister got to live the life she wanted but you aren't apart of that, your life is your own and you are nothing like her! I love you because you're you! I couldn't imagine ever loving someone as much as I love you, please come back to the devildom!"

He nuzzled his cheek against yours

Thankful to have you back in his arms again

He didn't like getting his hands messy but no one was going to make you feel that way ever again

He didn't care about that demons status

Beezlebub:

His hand landed on the top of your head

You flinched not expecting such a gentle pat but it only broke his heart more

"That noble knows nothing about you or any of us, he's turned my sister into an enemy to our relationship and I will not let that go on for any longer! You are not her and not her replacement, how dare he make you feel that way! you're apart of my family and I'll have it no other way, I really love you and missed you everyday you were gone - I was scared I'd never feel full again, you make me feel complete and when you disappeared I knew I wouldn't be able to protect you, I would of never forgiven myself if you got hurt! I want to always be able to protect you and have you by my side and make you feel happy - I promise I won't fail you again."

He almost fell to his knees once he was done

He was ready to swear to you on one knee, like a true knight

But instead hugged you

Mindful not to squeeze too hard but let himself be selfish and hold you tighter than he would normally dare to

He was one prone to be violent unless it was in sports or he was starved - the Noble starved him of your touch and kindness

He'll break more than just rooms once he gets his hands on that Noble

Belphegor:

He spun you to face him

Demanding

Needing your attention on him

It was only a few days but it felt like forever since he's had your eyes on him

"You're no pawn and no replacement, you are you and that's all I want, I don't want any one else, I know I've made you feel like a replacement - i did something horrible to you and then tried to make it seem like it was all okay after, I'm always trying to make up for that day but I know that is something that will always effect us! I missed you so much....you are your own person and you've helped me be a better person, come back home and let me make this right......you're all I want and need."

He broke down crying

Hanging his head low and it dropped onto your shoulder

He loosely held your waist whilst you gripped onto him tight

If everyone thought choking you was bad, just wait until they see what he plans to do with that noble

He couldn't stand seeing you so upset anymore

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

He gently held your arm

Giving it a small squeeze as tears built up

"He said all that? I'm sorry he made you feel like that, to feel such confliction and dread, You are never will be or were my pawn, you're a fantastic student and wonderful person who's did more than I've ever imagined Someone could do, if I could have asked you myself properly to be apart of the exchange program I would of but the world is not yet ready to merge and be aware of our existence.... please you have my deepest apologies and regrets that you felt this way and I've allowed such a person in my court, I will do whatever I can to make this right."

The tears finally fell and he became selfish

Hugging you tight against him, his fingers brushing against any skin he could touch

He couldn't dare to think how he'll be when you finally do leave the program

But until that time comes he needed to make it a good experience for you

If what barbatos did to him wasn't enough to convince him then he will not go back on his word

He'll fix this and do whatever he can to make all the pain stop

Barbatos:

He sighed in relief seeing you in the flesh

Knees buckling as he stood before you

His knuckles bloodied and bruised under his gloves

"I should of been more comforting when I found you, if I had known that was what he said I would of never let him be apart of the lord's court or be at that party, believe me when I say you are not a pawn or someone's replacement - you are so much more than that, you are you and someone that's made me feel closer to the present, to act quicker and stop using endless time as a excuse, I will fix this and make him regret ever uttering a word to you, I promise you."

Your touch was as gentle as ever

He caved, leaning against you

Happy to be able to make amends and fix the situation

The nobles dealt with him once and no matter what he did it wasn't enough

But he was merely holding back to be a gentleman, even if that noble now looks like a beaten raisin

It seemed he will have to do much worse to send everyone's message across

Solomon:

His face was gentle yet scolding

He gently brushed your cheek, wiping away a stray tear

"don't run off next time something like this happens, your life is so short and I hate to think would could happen if I lost you because you felt isolated even from me, you though you could find solace as both of us are humans but I was slow to understand your needs - you are deeply loved by everyone, I envy how much love you get and that's why I can't stand to see you run! I also love you and your presence, you have been so kind to me and I still have so much to teach you- please believe me when I say you're no one's pawn or replacement, you're important because you're you."

You crumbled completely

He hugged you as you apologized, calling yourself an idioit

But it only made him tsk, rubbing your back as he filled your ears with praises

He was sure the demons were going to rip that Noble to shreds but he couldn't help but desire his own revenge

Seeing you like this hurt him so much

Simeon:

He was so quick and gentle you could of mistaken him as a feather

He embraced you, cradling your head and rubbed soothing circles between your shoulder blades

"I was worried about you, I took you home and then I learn you've completely disappeared! No warning or note behind, you ran away - your feelings are extremely valid and I understand why you did this, It must of been so conflicting and you needed space to think and reflect, you're so strong (Y/N)! but you are also smarter than this, I feel ashamed knowing I haven't showed you how much I appreciate you being in my life and make sure you feel secure in the Devildom, I want to look over you but I've failed you already, that Noble does not know what he's talking about regardless of the information he has! I would never let anyone use you or let anyone treat you as some replacement, we all care so much about you."

He slightly swayed with you in his arms

Overwhelmed by his fears and the emotions that were rushing through him

He promised to never harm an innocent soul

That noble did not have one

He will leave the more physically destructive rage to the others

Wanting to merely talk and show the noble the error of his ways

Bonus:

You were back in the Devildom, Everyone was making sure to spend extra time with you. So happy to have you back and wanting to work on making you feel more secure. You couldn't stop how fast your heart was beating from all the overwhelming joy you felt.

It felt so good to be back. But you nagging worry remained in your head; what was going to happen to the Noble? you wished you could go up to him and yell at him. Prove him wrong and make him regret ever making you spiral like that.

When you brought up the idea, the men all looked at each other. A knowing look in their eye.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N) but I think it's best you don't see him but rest assured, we've dealt with him on your behalf and understand your wishes - let us know how we can help you feel resolved from that situation if this is unsatisfactory."

Diavolo answered. If it weren't the state the noble was in they'd happily let you chew him out but your heart and mind have been through enough already. No need to add on to the hurt with seeing what was left of him. They couldn't stand to see you upset again.

But you agreed, thanking them for their support and handling the situation. Unaware of their true actions. They all wished you a great day before going back to their own private meeting.

[floral-force]

Knight in Beskar Armor - Chapter 9

The Message

words: 3.6k

warnings: smut/NSFW/18+ ONLY ! unprotected sex, oral sex (female and male receiving, daddy kink

a/n: this one has a dash of angst in it! I apologize for the delay--I was moving and life was hectic for a while. I hope you enjoy this one!

series masterlist | read on ao3

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Din received the transmission when they left hyperspace. You continued to gaze out the window, Nevarro coming into view. Grogu was awake again, fiddling with his little metal ball. Hearing his babbling made you smile and feel a little calmer inside.

“Please, return home,” a grainy voice said.

Your head immediately snapped towards the holoprojection. It was Nelly, and you could tell that her face was contorted with concern. Din turned to look at you, moving out of the way when you approached him and stood in awe in front of the holoprojector.

“Princess, your people need you,” Nelly sniffled, and you nearly cried when you saw a tear roll down her cheek. “Please, return home.”

The message repeated, the words reaching your ears but not fully processed in your mind. You’d been waiting so long for this message, for some sort of communication from home, that it felt like a joke. The Mandalorian allowed the transmission to repeat, slowing the ship’s approach to Nevarro. You could feel him—and Grogu—watching you, your mouth open and eyes welling with tears. Finally, you turned to Din, rolling your shoulders back.

“We are going to Naboo.”

“We’ll go to Naboo after I give Karga this bounty.” Before you could protest, he continued, “I need the credits to refuel, unless you want us to only make it halfway before the ship dies.”

You blushed but held your gaze. “Fine.”

It was all you could manage under the Mandalorian’s scrutiny, and as you strapped back into your seat before traveling through Nevarro’s atmosphere, you felt a sense of hope for the first time since your journey with the bounty hunter began.

Karga frowned when Din told him the news of your departure. You smiled, uneasy as he hugged you. He’d given Din four new pucks; obviously the Mandalorian was relieved to return to normalcy. It made you scoff when he accepted them. He was just going to dump you on Naboo and leave—it had always been about protecting you until he didn’t need to anymore. But for some reason, you got the feeling that his acceptance of so many bounties wasn’t because he was anxious to return to his life before you, but because he needed some way to distract himself from losing you.

There was a battle in your head between the two assumptions as you walked with Din to visit Cara one last time, Grogu’s crib levitating on Din’s left side. The only sound was your footsteps in the dirt and the child’s babbles. The Mandalorian walked by your side, his hand brushing yours occasionally. It made you flush and you felt silly for even the slightest touch making you melt. You recalled how it felt to be beneath him, so unbearably warm, sweat on your skin as he slid in and out, his mouth peppering your cheeks with kisses—mesh’la, mesh’la—as you sighed and moaned. You’d had flings with knights before, but none like this. Even if you couldn’t see his face, you could feel yourself falling a little bit more each passing moment for the mysterious Mandalorian, and now that your time was coming to an end, your heart was beginning to break as the seconds ticked by.

You weakly smiled at Cara when she let you, Din, and the child inside, waiting to see if she already heard the news. Apparently, she had, as she took your hand in hers and nodded down at you.

“Stay out of trouble, Princess,” she said. “Naboo needs you.”

You blushed and thanked her. The Mandalorian was standing near the door, and his helmet was averted away from you. Grogu cooed and toyed with his metal ball. It was going to be the little things like this that you’d miss most.

Cara bid you one last farewell, and you made your way back to the Crest with the bounty hunter and the child.

The departure from Nevarro and the jump into hyperspace was filled with a heavy silence. Even Grogu seemed to understand something was different, closing his crib and hiding from the tension. You barely glanced in the Mandalorian’s direction, instead focusing on the blinking buttons and intermittent beeps from the control panel, and the sickly green glow the navcomputer cast on his beskar armor. Once you were safely in hyperspace en route to Naboo, you descended the ladder and opened the rack panel.

Your gown and tiara were still safely stored on the top shelf where you’d left it all those cycles ago. I didn’t even like it, you’d told Din, his hands combing through your hair. I hated it at first, you’d whispered into his bare chest, still sticky after taking you mercilessly from behind.

How do you feel about it now? Din had asked, his hand running up your back, fingers tracing your spine.

I think I love it.

As you ran your hands across the gown’s fabric, you remembered the fateful night that brought you and the Mandalorian together. Torn away from all that you knew and left with an imposing bounty hunter had shocked you to your core, but for some reason you were grateful it was him, it was Din, instead of someone else. You reached up and set the gown down gently and took the tiara in your hand, hesitating to place it on your head. It felt wrong to wear it while you were dressed in such drab garb. Mando had tried to get you to wear it a few times, but you refused to touch it—and refused to let him touch it. So, it had remained on top of the gown, a ghost and reminder of life before the bounty hunter.

“Do you want to wear it again?”

The modulated voice made you gasp and jump, clutching the tiara to your chest. You turned and looked at him, your back still facing him. His head was tilted slightly, helmet glowing under the light. He took a step towards you and cradled your chin in his hand.

“Answer me, Princess.”

You rose and his hand fell to your waist as you closed your eyes. “Take off that helmet, and I’ll tell you.”

There was a hiss and then a clang that made you flinch before his lips caught yours in a deep kiss. The tiara was still in your hands, but you felt his free hand ease it out of your grip. You didn’t want to wait for any further words from him; you could feel yourself burning with desire, a molten hot feeling threatening to spill and scorch anything in its path. You nearly tore off your clothes, trying your best to keep your lips attached to his, even when he chuckled against your mouth at your haste. The cold air of the Crest bit at your bare skin, making your hair stand on end and your nipples harden. He must have noticed the latter, as he pinched one of the buds between his fingers, snickering when gasped and jumped.

“You’re missing something, princess.”

“And what might that be?” you murmured, moving to kiss his warm neck.

“A crown,” he said, pushing you down on your knees. You heard him grunting and tossing off pieces of his armor, obviously as impatient as you. “You need to look like a princess while I fuck your mouth.”

He was growling, and it made your cunt get even wetter than it already was. You felt him place the tiara on your head, and he grunted in approval when it was set in place. His hands guided yours to rest on his thick cock, and he groaned as you took him into your mouth, sucking on the thick head of his dick before pulling away and licking up the shaft from the base. The Mandalorian, however, was apparently tired of your teasing—he held the back of your head and started to thrust into your mouth, his dick hitting the back of your throat. The tiara was bouncing as he fucked your throat, threatening to fall off, but he placed his other hand on it, securing the tiara on your head and your wet mouth around his cock.

Tears slid down your cheeks as he continued to fuck your throat, your head bobbing on his cock. You were completely at his mercy and knowing this only made you want him more. As you gagged on his thick length, your hands gripped his bare hips, nails digging into his skin.

“Yes, cyar’ika—that’s it—just like that—suck daddy’s cock, princess,” Din growled, his fingers tangled in your hair as he started to thrust even harder, choking you with each stroke.

He suddenly pulled away, and spit dribbled down your chin, dotting your bare breasts. His hand stroked your cheek before slapping it, making you gasp.

“Look at you. Look at my princess. All dirtied up for me.” He swept you into his arms and dropped you onto the cot. You could feel him kneeling between your legs and you yelped when his tongue licked your soaking slit.

“Mmm, so wet for me too.” He flicked your sensitive clit with his tongue, and you squirmed when he chuckled against it, the vibrations making you ache even more for him.

But right now, you didn’t want his mouth—not licking your cunt, at least. You blindly grasped for his hand and when you found it gripping your waist, you grabbed his wrist and guided him to cup your wet heat, letting his fingers tease your entrance.

“F-finger me, Mando,” you breathed. His free hand was massaging your breast, and you felt him shift and move to lay next to you. “P-please, Din—please.”

He gently kissed you and slid two of his fingers inside of you, making you moan into his mouth. Din pumped his fingers in and out of your soaking cunt, making sure to drag the tips slowly against the spot he knew drove you wild.

“Rub your clit, baby—yes, just like that—such a good little princess.”

His praise drove you crazy, and as he curled his fingers inside of you, you felt your walls clench around them, pressure building in your core. All you could hear was his voice and all you could feel was his fingers filling you as you got closer and closer to the edge. He was breathing with you and pumping his fingers in and out until you were on the precipice of release.

“Cum for me, Princess.”

Your climax washed over you in a white-hot wave of pleasure, your knees and legs shaking as you came all over the Mandalorian’s fingers. He was whispering in your ear, coaxing you through your orgasm—good girl, mesh’la—as his fingers slowed their pace. He peppered your cheek with kisses and you groaned when he finally pulled his fingers out of your pussy, the emptiness suddenly unbearable. You grabbed at his bicep, whining for his touch. Your relief came when you felt his torso above yours, his cock twitching on your belly as he kissed you, slow and deep, melting into you when he finally slid inside of you.

Your nails dug into his arms and then crept up to his shoulders when he sheathed himself fully inside of you, his cock filling you up entirely. Each stroke sent delicious shocks of pleasure throughout your body, his warm voice murmuring praise in your ear and encouraging you to moan louder, say his name, breathe with him—

“Fuck—Din—I’m c-cumming—”

“Cum on my cock, princess,” he growled. “You’re mine.”

His possessiveness sent you hurtling over the edge again, and you felt your cunt clench around him and get even wetter than it already was, soaking his length in your juices. Seconds later, he was filling you up full of his cum, his cock throbbing as he kissed you once again. Your skin was sticky and you noticed how damp you were. The Mandalorian chuckled as he slid out of you, and you felt his weight shifting towards the edge of the cot.

“You look so beautiful with my cum leaking out of you,” he said, running his hand up your inner thigh and teasing your clit.

You were still trying to catch your breath from your intense orgasm; it had left you rattled and shaken in the best way possible and all you wanted was your Mandalorian laying next to you, playing with your hair and holding you close. You reached for him, wiggling your fingers, hoping he understood your signals. He gently removed your tiara and you felt him shift to replace it on the shelf. You hummed in content when he settled back down next to you, moving you so your back was pressed to his chest, his arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace.

“Din?”

“Hm?”

You hesitated, weighing the words resting on your tongue. “I…I’m grateful for you.”

Din kissed the back of your head and chuckled. “You certainly make my life interesting.”

You almost whipped around but remembered that your retort wouldn’t be as powerful with your eyes closed; instead, you huffed and lightly slapped the hand that was on your waist. In response, he grabbed one of your breasts and squeezed, holding you tighter when you squirmed and tried to roll away. You gave up and relaxed into him once again, sighing and letting his calloused hands grip you and explore your curves.

Suddenly, you remembered where you were: hurtling through hyperspace, returning to your old life. Returning to a world of sunny breakfasts, a planet full of your citizens, a kingdom wrought with uncertainty. Naboo was your home—of that, there was no question. But there was something new within you, wrapping you in warmth from the inside out, something that even the sunniest morning on Naboo couldn’t bring you. It was here on the Crest, holding you tight in a tiny cot. Perhaps losing one home had brought you another.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I don’t want to leave you.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them, and you felt the Mandalorian stiffen behind you. You cursed yourself, knowing you should have held your tongue instead of speaking foolishly.

“It’s safer for you to leave.”

You nearly turned around but continued to keep your eyes closed and head turned from him. Your chest suddenly burned, and your cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“I thought I was safe with you,” you whispered, remembering his words from before when he’d promised his protection.

“Your people need you.”

You sat up, making sure to keep your back to him. “I need you.” You felt his lips on your shoulder, but you shrugged him off. “You should go check on Grogu.”

He left the rack without a word, and only when the panel slid closed did you finally allow your tears to fall. Were you nothing more than a bounty to him?

“We’re here.”

You woke up to see the rack panel open and the Mandalorian staring down at you, assessing you like he did all those nights ago in the garden. The child was staring at you from his floating crib, ears perked and head tilted. Maybe he could sense that something was changing.

“I’ll make myself decent,” you said, sitting up and stretching.

The Mandalorian nodded and strode away, his feet stomping up the cockpit ladder. You felt your cheeks flush and you shook away the lump in your throat as you reached and grabbed your gown and tiara off the top shelf. As you changed in the ‘fresher, you tidied yourself and fixed your hair. You noticed that your gown was slightly dirtied, but at least it was still intact. You tried your best to tame your hair and make yourself presentable; your people deserved to see their princess clean and polished.

You left the ‘fresher and back to the rack, reaching in to grab your slippers. Your heart felt heavy as you stepped into them, the reality of your ending with the Mandalorian setting in. You heard his familiar footsteps and averted your gaze.

“You look good.”

You scoffed, standing and finally looking into the visor. “Thanks.”

He walked over to the ramp, and you joined him at his side. Grogu was in his crib to the side—the Mandalorian was leaving him behind, apparently, so you gave him a wave and a weak smile. You smoothed out your gown, frowning at the dirt that stained the bottom of it, no doubt from the night when the Mandalorian rescued you from the ball. You jumped when you felt him brush a hair out of your face, and you looked into his visor again, trying to search for his eyes, for something to investigate instead of an abyss. His gaze lingered on you, his palm cradling your cheek. You shied away from his touch, clearing your throat. He pushed a button, and the ramp began to lower.

You heard a familiar voice yell your name, and as soon as the ramp was low enough, you walked as fast as you could into the arms of Nelly. She was crying into your shoulder and a wave of relief passed over you. She was here, she was alive, she loved you. You both sunk to the ground, crying and whispering each other’s names like a prayer, clinging to a lifeline. Your hope had strengthened and grown now that were reconnected with your surrogate mother, warm in her arms. You felt Nelly lift her head from your shoulder, and you followed her gaze to see the Mandalorian towering above you.

“Thank you,” Nelly said.

“Just doing my job,” the bounty hunter responded, his modulated voice cutting through your ribs and slicing your heart open.

All you were was a job to him? After all this time, he saw you as a means to a reward, and you’d been a fool to think otherwise. It made your cheeks burn and your heart bleed. You rose and lifted your chin, meeting his gaze. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

“Follow me, I’ll give you your payment.”

He nodded and you turned on your heel, patting Nelly’s shoulder, letting her know not to follow you. The Mandalorian stayed behind you and followed you to the throne room. The hallways were empty, and only a few knights roamed the halls, bowing when they saw you. You held your head high—they need you, they need you, keep it together just a moment longer—and swung the throne room doors open, not waiting for some knight to do it for you. You heard the door slam shut, and you finally turned to face the Mandalorian now that you were alone with him.

“Princess, I don’t want payment.” He crossed his arms.

“How much do you need to refuel?”

“I refueled on Nevarro and had repairs done there.”

“Surely you’d like compensation for the extra rations you had to buy.”

“No,” he said, taking a step toward you.

“Then what do you want?” you whispered, your breath hitching when you felt his hand on your waist.

“You.” His other hand stroked your cheek, and squeezed your eyes shut to stop tears from falling.

You turned your head slightly, trying to will yourself to move away from his touch. Your efforts were in vain; your hand wrapped around his wrist as he ran his thumb across your cheek.

“Din,” you whispered. You shook your head, finally opening your eyes and letting tears finally fall. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do.” He said your name and got even closer to you, but you shook his hands off you and walked away.

“You never cared about me,” you said, raising your voice as you moved away towards the thrones. “You just wanted the credits.”

“I do care about you, Princess.” He seemed to hesitate, and you turned to face him, seeing his head tilted and gaze on the floor.

“But I was just a job to you, I didn’t mean anything more than that. You only cared about me because returning me with even the tiniest scratch meant a deduction from your payment.”

“That’s not true,” he growled, striding over to you.

“Then prove it.” You were crying, tears flowing from your eyes. You didn’t care if the Mandalorian saw you like this—emotional, distressed—because he had already seen you in many other vulnerable ways. You wanted him to see you crack, you wanted him to see you shake and sob, to see the pain he was causing.

Before he could speak, the throne room doors opened with a crash, and you quickly wiped your eyes and fixed yourself. A few knights entered the room, flanking Sir Pov Gres, your father’s court chancellor. Nelly followed them, looking concerned but more composed than before.

“Princess,” Sir Gres said, bowing. He turned to the Mandalorian, barely hiding a scowl. “Mandalorian.”

“Sir Gres, it’s good to see you again,” you said, putting on a smile.

“It’s good to see you return to us, Princess.” He gave you a curt nod, then looked at Mando again. He held out a pouch. “Your payment, as promised by the late king.”

The Mandalorian pushed it away. “Keep it. I’ll be on my way now.”

Sir Gres nodded and signaled to the guards. “Lead the bounty hunter back to his ship.”

You watched as the Mandalorian gave you one last glance before following the knights out of the throne room and out of your life.

Once the doors were shut and the Mandalorian gone, Sir Gres took your hands, making you jump. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” His short black hair was smoothed back, his royal blue clothes smoothed. He smelled fresh, but it was almost overwhelming.

You met his icy blue eyes and smiled. “No, no he didn’t.”

Sir Gres believed your lie.

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taglist:

@andiesturgss

[other-cullen-ficrecs]

MLM!Cullen Fic Rec List

Inspired by this post. Here is my fic rec list of some of my favorite fics with queer Cullen. Happy Pride :)  🏳️‍🌈 🏳️‍🌈 🏳️‍🌈

Cullen/Dorian

Only True in Fairy Tales by Dragonflies_and_Katydids

Summary:  In which Dorian is a special forces operative, Bull is his partner, and Cullen is the guy they're sent to rescue. Hijinks ensue. // Words: 110150

Modern AU. Dragonflies_and_Katydids makes me read the weirdest stuff. But their work is always captivating. The more ridiculous set up the better outcome, I promise. This one is both ridiculous and absolutely perfect. And somehow one of the very few modern au fics in which Cullen's lyrium addiction is well transfered without making it literal.

Fashionably Late by tsurai

For the tumblr prompt: Cullen/Dorian Soulmates AU? <3 "Maker’s breath, this is absolutely the worst timing, he thinks distantly." // Words: 1038

This is but a tiny thing but I'm a sucker for a soulmate AU. Would I love it more if it was 150,000 words? Yes. But I'm just greedy.

COLD HANDS, WARM HEART by spicyshimmy, stonelions

Summary: Cullen and Dorian's friendship deepens. Cullen is a romantic. Dorian is literally cold. Cullen is no longer certain what he would consider surprising. Mages and Templars working in perfect cooperation, perhaps. Evil and corruption disappearing into the ground along with the blight, blood magic falling so far out of favor it ceased to be. A united Thedas: that would be a surprise. // Words: 25369

I think this is most recced Cullrian fic and for a good reason. Slow burn, drama, all the delights. 

Light In This Darken'd Time Breaks by RamonaDecember

Summary: Cullen wouldn't say he hates mages, not anymore, but he can't see himself ever trusting one again. Dorian is no exception. The mage is off-color, self-important, and all together too much for Cullen to deal with. So why is it that every time Cullen is at his lowest, Dorian seems to be the only person by his side? // Words: 121289

Slow burn with 121289 words, what more do you want?

Cullen/Bull

Jump In by Dragonflies_and_Katydids

Summary: In which Cullen is almost terminally awkward, Bull and Dorian are literally brothers (because why not?), and Bull tries really hard to be good. Or: In which Dorian tries to set up his brother and his roommate, if he can avoid killing them for being so clueless. (You might get cavities from reading it. Don't say I didn't warn you.) // Words: 33700

What did I say about Dragonflies_and_Katydids and ridiculous premises? But if you're as delighted with awkward Cullen as am I - enjoy.

Dragons from Stars in an Empty Sky by Midna_Ronoa

Summary: The one in which Bull takes Cullen dragon-hunting. // Words: 10423

Fluff and smut and dragons!

Stuck on the Puzzle by thespectaclesofthor

Summary: Once, back in Kirkwall, Cullen had an arrangement with a member of the city guard that satisfied his needs. But time changed all things, and he despaired of ever finding a similar arrangement again - that was, until he met The Iron Bull. Problem being that Bull seemed to care far more about sorting out the nitty-gritty of such an arrangement than Cullen ever has. // Words: 235586

No fic rec lists that can involve Bullen canot do without Stuck on the Puzzle. If you haven't read it - please give it a try. As far as I'm concerned - the best fic in the fandom. And definately one of the best fics in general. <3

Cullen/Dorian/Bull

Exit Light by Dragonflies_and_Katydids

Summary: In which Cullen is suicidally depressed, Dorian is a high-functioning alcoholic, and Bull just wants them both to be happy, except when he wants to crack their heads together for being emotionally stunted idiots. // Words: 77427

This premise is actually very close to canon, compared to some other stories by the same author recced here. The angst? Delightful. The smut? Delicious. The exploration of issues? Delectable! Cheff kisses all around.

to burn cool and collected by toomanyhometowns

Summary: Dorian hums. "Here is the function of the spell: Upon invocationne, ye caster's spyryt shal sterte to ye form of whomsoever mofte recently achieved releafe by hys hande." He taps the page in punctuation and looks back up. "And then there's a lot of text about the vast joys we may experience together, et cetera, et cetera." // Words: 16121

Ok, this list shows more than anything that my main delight is issues and angst wrapped in with porn. Anyway - cracky premise (body swap!), and angsty, sexy outcome.

Hold by queeniegalore

Summary: Everyone knows Cullen doesn't trust magic. But he trusts Dorian and Bull, so maybe they can make this work. // Words: 6654

Issues? Trauma? Kink? I'm a one trick pony when it comes to recs.

Cullen/Cole

Okay now that we’ve gotten the obvious out, let’s enjoy the trully unexpected enjoyment.

Into The Light (Cole/Cullen Ficlets) by Sinister_Kid

Summary: A series of what I hope are tasteful Cole/Cullen fics that don't exploit or overly sexualize Cole's developing character. Based on a prompt I filled out of boredom in which I imagined the spirit actually hearing someone's pain like a physical noise in his ears that caused discomfort. Explores the option of making Cole more human, with my own original take on how that affects him as a character, and depicts Cole developing romantic feelings for the Commander as he discovers what it means to be human. // Words: 20454

I admit I don't often read Cole shippy fics but this one stays true to the info in the summary and it is careful and tasteful. Also Cullen learning to speak with Cole properly - <333

Cullen/Varric

Verse & Volley Triptych by boycoffin

Summary: POSSIBLE TITLES: This Shit Was Even Weirder: A Surprisingly Not-Doomed Romance In The Shadow of the Apocalypse The Commander and the Rogue already taken, Antivan maritime smut with an elf girl in it How The Hell I Ended Up With That Guy: A Tale for The People Who Keep Asking Me About It In Bars The Short and Curlies that's just terrible Love Among the tropey garbage A Tale of Two Names pretentious and unclear The Penman's Paramour Memoirs of a Moron (That He's Going to Regret Publishing and Will Never Hear The End Of for As Long As He Lives) // Words: 133354

One of the very few fics in which I can not only accept but love 1st person POV. Crack. Slow-burn. Pennames. Lovable OCs. DELICIOUS. Also a fic that made me start this blog, so love all around.

Cullen/Krem

Last but not least, my delightful fave (maybe, possibly, probably) and involving a shameless self-plug because it’s the month of pride.

Swordplay by orphan_account

Summary: The Bull's Chargers are undisciplined, untested, and unprofessional; but Cullen can't stop thinking about their lieutenant. // Words: 3910

I have a soft spot for whoever Krem being shipped with not knowing he's trans at first. But also oblivious, pining Cullen <3

If you have been starving, a creature of bone by missivesfromghosts

Summary: Cullen is content with where he is. He has a life and a purpose. He’s doing the Maker’s work and he’s cut the Chantry’s leash on him. He barely thinks about the fact that he’s trans anymore. The last person who knew he was born anything different, barring his sister Mia, died during the Blight. This works for him. That is, until he starts falling for Krem. // Words: 769

A tiny thing but I have a soft spot for the idea. Also what's better than a ship with trans character? A ship with two trans characters. Keep that in mind for further recs actually.

Sweet, Merciful Andraste by Tainaron

Summary: PWP. Honestly, Cullen should invest in walls and a ceiling that don't have holes if he's going to keep having such loud sex. Pure, unapologetic smut between trans men who love each other. // Words: 4187

¯\_(ツ)_/¯  What more do you want from me? Sometimes porn is just porn. Enjoy.

Champions of the Just by Tainaron

Summary: En route to Griffin Wing Keep before the battle of Adamant, Cullen falls prey to an injury that reveals a shameful secret about his trauma with magic. As Cullen struggles with his past, his duty to the Inquisition, and his love life, he becomes increasingly uncertain if he’s the target of an assassination attempt or just his own personal demons. // Words: 67885

Well, I also have some plottier and angstier fics in my rec disposal. This one actually explores the problems Krem and Cullen could encounter in their relationship and all within the canon plot line. Plus bonus points of Cullen actually interacting with other Chargers.

cabbage: a love story by psikeval

Summary: Krem’s grin fades into a quiet smirk, his eyes warm and amused, and Cullen does not forget how to move his legs because he is a grown man, a leader of soldiers, commander of the Inquisition’s army. He breaks the silence by coughing loudly, because he is also an imbecile. // Words: 18932

Creme de la creme of Krem/Cullen fics <3 Fluff, crack, porn <3 This delightful series has it all! 

[retvenkos]

always waiting (just not in that tree) | r.a.b.

Harry Potter - Regulus Arcturus Black x Reader, angst, slight fluff requested by @captainshazamerica​

tw: death eaters, mild language, mentions of death, mentions of betrayal

word count: 2.2k

prompt: “where were you?” / “i’m doing the best i can—” / “no. you’re not hearing me. where were you?”

Summary: A lifetime ago, Regulus and (Y/n) made plans to leave their life behind, but when the time came, he never showed. Two years later, he survives the Drink of Despair and (Y/n) wonders what ever stopped him from leaving, in the first place.

The day was cold. The morning started with a chilling wind, the howling air sweeping across the world with a vengeance, crying out sorrowfully as though it knew what as to come; the sun didn’t shine until at least mid-day, and even as it fought against the thick clouds above, it’s warmth never made it to the ground below, just dissipated in the top layer of the atmosphere. (Y/n) had woken to the deafening sound of silence, and throughout the day, it hung around their shoulders like a shroud. They checked the clock at 11:15, then again at 11:30. At 12:00, they checked it every five minutes.

There was no sound but the moaning wind.

(Y/n) checked their bag, rooting through the seemingly endless bottom until they found the note and the cipher needed to read it. Regulus’ careful handwriting met them, with its sharp edges and careful curves. 

Noon, the day before it happens.

(Y/n) shoved all their belongings back into their bag, except for two - their wand and the note. They held onto the creased, stained parchment with a strength born from that insatiable fear that ate at them, gnawing at the pit of their stomach and sliding down their throat. He would be here - he had to be.

The wind stopped at around 3:18. The stillness was almost worse than the wind. (Y/n) held their watch in a knuckle-tight grip, their skin stretched over their bones in such a way it hurt; the pain of their dry, cracked skin pulling itself too tightly was almost enough to mask the pain that tore at their heart and plagued their mind. 

They had planned it meticulously. His parents were gone, the house-elves were en route to Malfoy Manor for a 3-minute window where the house was vacant and the wards were taken down. He couldn’t have missed it - they had practiced it too many times before...

Maybe he got lost in the woods. The trees grew so closely together it was easy to get turned around between one path and another. Perhaps he had come across some danger that was delaying him - a danger that made no sound.

(Y/n) looked at the clock face once more.

Night fell and there were no stars to guide the way. (Y/n) still sat in their meeting place, in the branches of the largest elm tree they could find, with knots all up the trunk, and a lonely Slytherin scarf hanging from one of the lower branches. 

It had been one of the first things they’d done when they planned their escape. Together, they had stolen as many scarves as they could, coming to the forest and tying them onto the branches of trees - ones that bore no resemblance to their meeting spot but could fool the untrained eye, perhaps make the marker meaningless to anyone else. Regulus had tied his own scarf to the final tree, his sad eyes more solemn than (Y/n) had ever seen, his countenance more sombre. 

(Y/n) could still see him, with his dark hair falling into his eyes, the wind turning his usual poised self reckless, his entire being pulling loose and falling at (Y/n)’s feet. They had put their hand on his shoulder and how they had wished it was something more.

(Y/n) wished, still.

A branch snapped in the cold night air. (Y/n) startled at the sound, and their heart leapt in their chest, only to freeze in dread. Their parents walked below with their hoods pulled up but their faces exposed. (Y/n) clutched their wand in their dominant hand, but their entire being shook with fear. If they were caught, there would be no chance of running ever again. Their left forearm itched, as though the cursed mark was already there, crawling up their skin and forever branding them the enemy.

(Y/n) had to run, damn the consequences. If they were killed in their escape, perhaps it would be a mercy.

(Y/n) looked down at Regulus' scarf, tied on the branch below. In another life, they would have risked everything to retrieve it; in another life, they would have waited, still.

But part of them knew they would always be waiting, just not in this tree.

"I love you, Regulus. Please, forgive me."

They apparated into the night.

✧ *:･ﾟ

For two years, (Y/n) lived in a haze. During the day, they were running and fighting, soldiering in a war was never easy, particularly when the foe was once a schoolmate and killers were once friends. At night, (Y/n) couldn't sleep; guilt was a fickle companion, never satisfied with the attention it received and apathetic about the destruction it wrought. There was always a part of (Y/n) that saw the Death Eater they almost were - the monster that almost was - and it made fighting harder. How could they go toe to toe with a Death Eater, when they were unable to reconcile with the knowledge that they were once fated to be the very thing they were to destroy? Sometimes, when in the thick of things, (Y/n) searched for Regulus in the crowd, although what they would do when they found him, they did not know. There was a fair chance that he wasn't even alive, the way he had disappeared, and yet (Y/n) searched, still.

At times they felt that part of them would always be searching for him, waiting for him to show up - just not in that tree.

(Y/n) made few allies during their time amongst the Order of the Phoenix, and even fewer friends.  Most of the members didn't trust them. There was a constant undercurrent of suspicion in the ranks, and while (Y/n) didn't judge their reluctancy, it made things more difficult. It also made them wonder, occasionally, what it would have been like, had Regulus joined them. He would have hated the judgment - they so easily trusted some, and others would never receive the same confidence. His brother would be loved, and he would be doubted. Sometimes, (Y/n) could conjecture what complaints he would have, and it would bring a nostalgic smile - sweet, but with a bitter end.

All they had was conjecture, anymore, and as (Y/n) walked into the Order of the Phoenix headquarters, taking a seat in the meeting area, they tried to fathom what Regulus might think if he could see them now.

People trickled into the room fairly slowly, talking in hushed whispers and throwing glances about the room as though there was some secret that only a select few knew. (Y/n) watched them through careful eyes, already in tune to the low level of tension in the room. At one point, Sirius Black threw a sideways glance at them, but instead of being filled with his usual fire, there was pity combined with something akin to respect. (Y/n) had looked away (what else were they supposed to do?) but they knew that something had happened. The question was... what?

When Albus Dumbledore walked in, his eyes scanned the room as usual, but this time they rested on (Y/n). It was in his gaze, too, then, a regretful sort of acceptance that gave way to poignancy - the kind of look one has after seeing an emotional piece of art and feeling something deep within them move to compassion. (Y/n) had only seen that look a few times before, and they had only ever given it to one - someone who still lay heavy on their heart.

"As always, there is good news and bad..."

(Y/n) studied their cuticles, listening to the conversation that surrounded them. Meetings like this were usually long, with many triumphs recognized alongside terrible evils - news of death interwoven with stories of victory. There was celebration and there was sorrow; (Y/n) learned rather quickly to keep their head down and their hopes stable. It was the only way to get by.

At some point through the meeting, James Potter snuck in, and he took a seat beside (Y/n), whispering their name. They turned to him, eyebrow furrowing. "Yes?"

"There's someone in the sick room you should see, he's just gained consciousness again and is asking for you. Dumbledore wanted us to wait but..."

And (Y/n) hated the way their hopes jumbled inside of them, as though it might be something grand. "Who?"

A name left James' lips.

(Y/n) gasped.

(Y/n) rushed to the hall without another word. Their mind was numb, trying to formulate some kind of response to what they had heard - something that could reconcile reality and dream - but there was so much conflicting evidence that it was at a standstill, shortcircuiting like static. But their heart cared not for the complication of the mind, and it ached in only one, increasingly profound way.

When they made it to the door that separated the makeshift sick room from the rest of the house, (Y/n) paused. Their mind ran through a thousand possibilities, replaying that day in their mind over and over until it brought tears to their eyes. (Y/n) screwed their eyes shut and started to pull their hand away when they heard a cough from within. Without a single thought, (Y/n) swung open the door.

And there he was.

For a moment that existed outside of reality, they just stared at each other.

There he was, with his dark hair falling into his eyes, the weight of the world having turned his usual poised self into something reckless, his entire being pulled loose and falling at (Y/n)'s feet. In his eyes was that same solemn melancholy, his countenance sombre and aged.

"Regulus..." and their whole life, they had been preparing for this moment, wishing they would be able to say more.

(Y/n) wished, still.

His mouth moved, but no sound came out.

(Y/n) didn't walk in, but clung to the doorway. "Where were you?"

And he took in a labored breath.

"I waited for you," (Y/n)'s words trembled with the beginnings of a sob, "Where were you?"

"I was doing the best that I could—"

"No, you're not hearing me." (Y/n) had thought they would savor the sound of his voice, but all it did was bring back a rush of memories they had been fighting for two years to keep down. They had been waiting - always waiting - for two, long years, and now they wanted answers. (Y/n) couldn't afford to fathom their own, anymore. "I didn't leave that tree until nightfall. I was almost caught by my parents, waiting for you to show. Where were you?"

As if he didn't already look pained enough, Regulus' eyes filled with a terrible kind of sorrow. "I was going to leave with you. I had my bag packed and I was waiting to apparate but then... then I saw Sirius. At Grimmauld Place. He must have also known that our parents were gone because he was there, nicking some family heirlooms - dark artifacts that he didn’t want them to be able to use in the future. (Y/n), I thought I had the time to confront him... I wasn't leaving you."

(Y/n) surged forward, tears spilling down their face as they hugged Regulus with all the force of those stolen, lonely years. He sobbed into their shoulder, his entire being quaking, spilling from every edge and breaking apart.

“I’ve relived my worst failures trying to fix things, (Y/n). The Drink of Despair.... it showed me you, waiting in our tree. I didn’t mean to leave you, (Y/n). You’re the last person I meant to hurt.”

 (Y/n) held him until his tears subsided, until his sobs were no longer quite so far and until his breathing calmed and their hearts beat as one. (Y/n) breathed in the feeling of him, and for once, they weren't waiting for anything. (Y/n) had been searching through every crowd and waiting for millennia, and now he was here.

It wasn't in their tree, but he had come.

Regulus eventually spoke, finally finishing his story, but never once did he let go. "We fought in the hallway, and I pulled my wand. I don't know what I was going to do, but he got to me first and knocked me out. I woke up the next morning, and it was too late."

"But you're here, now. You came."

"I wanted to come sooner," he breathed, and his words tickled (Y/n)'s neck. “I meant it when I said we’d leave together. You’re all I have left.” (Y/n) held onto the way he felt in their arms, alive and breathing. They hugged him with all the strength they had, and how they wished it was something more.

But there would be time for that. For now, they could just revel in the idea that Regulus was safe, and he made his way back to them. 

“Please don’t leave, again.”

And Regulus held (Y/n) a little tighter, as though he was afraid they would slip through his grasp. “I don’t plan to,” he whispered, his voice gruff and full of all the longing he had ever carried in his chest.

-- taglist: @musicallisto, @theletterhart, @locke-writes, @randomfandomimagine, @brokenandheadoverheels, @timeofmadness, @writerdream22, @lotsoffandomrecs, @neelia-thedaughtherof-athena, @coffee–writes, @lenalxvegood, @cooloaflandhero, @swanimagines, @noesapphic​, @amortensie // message me if you want to be added!

[docholligay]

Feint-disengage-attack

Just kidding! THis is @amberlilly’s prompt, asking for “Tracer getting a pleasant surprise” and it is MOSTLY that,  and funny and sweet,right up till the end BUT DON’T WORRY NO ONE DIES OR IS DYING. THis actually takes place pretty early in the HON HON HON verse, as indicated here. 2600 words 

Fareeha Amari was having a mostly normal morning. She had gone for a run, taken a shower, gotten dressed, and come downstairs to read the newspaper, drink her coffee, and have her oats, with some nuts and dried fruit, perhaps a touch of coconut milk. D.Va was sleeping in, as she did every morning there wasn’t a meeting. Mercy was enjoying her coffee in bed, brought to her by Pharah after the run, as usual.Tracer sat across from Pharah, in the way she did most mornings. Tracer tended to vary what she ate for breakfast, and this morning, it was several strips of bacon, with two eggs and toast fried in the bacon fat. 

Pharah always said there were a number of ways Tracer seemed to be aiming not to live very long, and this was right up there with her propensity to jump out at Pharah along her running route. 

It was an innocuous sort of discussion, something Pharah would later recall was about cybersecurity, and Pharah’s worry that her webcam might be hacked, and there were a number of concerns with that. She hadn’t remembered saying anything about her concern for Mercy’s honor, or any such thing, but she might have, and in case it would have been like Tracer to assume that was her primary concern. Pharah would accept mild teasing on the subject of her devotion to her wife. 

That was when it happened. 

“Oh, as if you’re the only one who’s ever seen Ang naked. Fuck’s sake, Fareeha.” She shook her head as she looked down at the comics page. 

“What?” 

Tracer’s head flicked up with the swiftness of a hummingbird, her eyes grew wide, and a smile crept from the left corner to cover her whole face. “Oh, you didn’t know? Bout Ang and I?” 

Pharah knew English. She spoke, she would say, very good English, mostly in American variants due to the practice she gained with her mother’s friends, and some Canadian influence due to her father, but very good, clear, concise English. She had scored as fluent in the army, and even tutored others about its vagaries. If she would accept any criticism on the subject, it would be that her English contained the ring of formality, but most who knew her in both worlds would confess her Arabic held the same. She was a very good English speaker. 

In this moment, she had never known an English word in her life. The last English word she would ever speak would be ‘what,’ before every circuit that knew it blew simultaneously. She reached for Arabic. 

She seemed to have forgotten that as well. 

Tracer, fully in control of her language center and wriggling with delight as she attempted to fold her hands in front of her and beatifically look over at Pharah, did not need another question to continue. 

“Ang never told you?” 

Liar! She wanted to scream, in whichever language would be the first to return to her, but her mind immediately dismissed that as unlikely. Tracer is a laundry list of flaws in human form, the cool part of her mind said, but she is not much of a liar unless required to be. Even then, it’s not her greatest talent. Pharah was keenly observant, and had known Tracer long enough to be generally aware of her. 

With horror, Pharah realized that she was not lying. 

Tracer leaned back with a stretch, her smile never fading, and then drummed her fingers on the table, utterly delighted with herself. She waited a moment, and then leaned forward, eyes sparkling. 

“You jealous, Fareeha?” 

Pharah always said there were a number of ways Tracer seemed to be aiming not to live very long. 

Yes, Pharah screamed inside her own head, throwing a bucket of water over the idea immediately. Mercy and Tracer had known each other for many years before she had ever even laid eyes on Pharah. Mercy was a very attractive woman, and Tracer, purportedly, had an easy charisma that women often found themselves drawn to. They had worked together. It was only natural that this horrible conclusion might have been reached. She had no right to be jealous of Mercy having had past relationships. 

This isn’t a past relationship, she growled, still with a firm grip on her coffee mug, this is Tracer. THis is someone I see every day. THis is someone I can sometimes barely sta--

Tracer broke into a peal of laughter and sprung to her feet, no longer able to contain her delight. “Can’t believe you didn’t know! Would ‘ave been so sure Ang would have said, right? Bit of a surprise to ‘ave over your morning coffee, innit? But,” She blinked over behind Pharah and put an arm on the back of her chair, leaning in close, “She is ever so beautiful in pink, don’t you--” 

Pharah took a swipe at her and immediately felt a bit ashamed, but Tracer dodged it easily. Pharah closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. 

“No,” Pharah swallowed, “I did not know you and Angela were,” she rifled around in her newly-recovered English, “Sweethearts, of a kind. It was, I am sure, long ago, and unimportant.” 

“I mean, we never really lost touch, right?” Tracer leaned against Pharah’s detailed wall calendar, smearing the carefully-written dry erase marker, “strange to imagine what might ‘ave been, innit, if I ‘adn’t been lost in time all over again. Overwatch was still standing. But then,” she bounced back over to Pharah, “I wouldn’t ‘ave ‘ad the delight of meeting you, love, and wouldn’t that be a great tragedy for the both of us?” 

Pharah sighed and set down her mug a bit hard, echoing it through the kitchen. “I have work to do.” 

“Oh, me too, love, me too. Nice to know we ‘ave so much in common, innit?” She was barely restraining herself, rocking back on her heels as she continued to goad Pharah, ”tell me, does she still give that little laugh when you touch her right there, you know the one, yeah?” 

Pharah shoved back the chair and stood with a sudden jolt, eyes boring into Tracer’s. She didn’t flinch, even slightly. Tracer’s unique brand of courage, of near ignorance to danger, was as impressive as it was frustrating. She just continued to smile at Pharah as the weekly meeting rubbed onto the back of her shoulder. 

“I have to go.” Pharah aggressively pushed in the chair, hard enough that it ricocheted back into the small breakfast nook and hit against the wall. She regarded it a moment before turning on the ball of her foot and heading for the doorway to the kitchen. 

“Heading on up to Ang? Well, let me know if you need a pointer or two, love! Think we both know I’ve a bit more experience!” Tracer collapsed into her own fit of laughter, no one enjoying the joke as much as she had, in that constant, braying way that made Pharah want to spit. 

There was paperwork that needed doing. There were opportunities to receive grants, perhaps, if she played her cards right and spoke well on the phone and invoked her dead mother’s name that always seemed halfway between a curse and a prayer. There was plenty of work to be done, that she had set out for the day, and that was even before the evening training session. 

But the idea of this brought her no pleasure today. There was a sinking sort of tingle inside of her, and she couldn’t stop seeing Tracer kissing Mercy, touching her, and thought of the thousand little intimacies she’d seen them share without ever imagingin anything at all. 

As soon as she thought these things, she was ashamed of thinking them. Mercy was never duplicitous, and there was no reason to think it was important. Mercy did not hide important things from Pharah, she never had. It showed a poor mark on her own character that this was such a problem. 

What did it matter that they had slept together? What did it matter that Tracer was endlessly irritating and careless and impulsive and vastly socially preferred by nearly everyone they met? What did it matter that Tracer got to serve alongside Ana? What did it matter that even the person Pharah loved most had been charmed by her, like everyone? What did it matter that Pharah was the floodlight, and Tracer got to be the firework? 

She hadn’t realized she was cleaning her office until she looked down and realized there was nothing left to be tacked on the board, no more pens to sort into color-coded cups, no form to be tabbed by subject. 

Pharah slumped down into her chair, sighing heavily and slamming her unsatisfyingly small stack of forms down on the desk. 

“Fareeha?” 

It was Mercy, standing there in a loose purple tshirt and her summer shorts. Pharah looked back to the clock. She had already wasted three hours in her ridiculous, self-pitying imprisonment in the office. 

“Please come in,” she nodded, “anytime.” 

They had been married for more than a year now, and still sometimes Pharah felt an awkward stranger to her. The words never came out as she meant them, and there were such things in her heart, feelings she longed to express in the way Mercy deserved them, but every time she opened her mouth, it was only her same voice that came out of it. 

“I heard,” Mercy gave a smile, “there was a….history lesson, at breakfast.” 

“Tracer told you.” 

“No,” Angela came over to where she was sitting, “Winston did the telling me. I am thinking Lena has probably forgotten it already, at least for the moment.” 

“Is it true?” She said, sharper than she meant. 

“Yes, it is,” She looked at Pharah with soft eyes, “Are you angry?”

“No, of course not,” she jumped up to reassure her, “I have no right. I could not be. Never.” 

“But you are feeling upset,” it was not a question, “Why?” 

Immediately, Pharah jumped to deny it, felt the words climb into her throat and throw themselves at the world, but she choked them down. This was Mercy. Mercy was kind. 

She cleared her throat, held her hands begin her back, and nodded. “On a personal level, people tend to prefer Tracer--” 

There was an explosion of laughter from beside her, and Mercy shook her head. “Fareeha, my Fareeha, if we had wanted each other, we would be having plenty of opportunities. She introduced us, do you remember? She was helping you, from our first date. She feels nothing for me, in that sense.” 

“You never told me.”

Mercy put her hand on Pharah’s “Because it was one night. We had been on a mission,” she sighed and looked to the wall, “It went...we lost so many. Lena and I, we were drinking, very much, and sad. I am not even now knowing why we did it, exactly. Wanting to feel something else.” she laughed, “Tracer tried very hard to be a gentleman about it before I told her I felt nothing--I love her, of course, but not in that way--and she was feeling so relieved. She only felt friendship, as well, but wanted to be kind to me.” 

“Tracer failed to mention this.” 

“She loves to tease you. You have to be knowing this, in the same way she knows you aren’t Moroccan, but says it all the same.” Mercy nodded at her. “You are always reacting, you know. She makes a game of it.” 

“I do.” she swallowed. “I am...silly, I suppose. Childish.” 

“Yes. Very.” She smiled, warmly now, and tucked Pharah’s hair behind her ear. “I love you.” She leaned in and gave a little laugh. “I love you more than Lena loves to pick at you.” 

Pharah finally returned her smile. “A great amount indeed.” 

If her love for Mercy, and her belief in her, was unshakeable, than so too was her level of irritation with Tracer. It was a weakness of hers, wasn’t it, that she simply had to make everything into a joke? This sort of thing could cause serious trouble within the ranks. It was hard to believe that a woman who had such heavy military honors behind her (More than Pharah’s own, she did not remind herself) did not see the wisdom of keeping the organization businesslike and civil. If she hadn’t needed her name so badly, Pharah would have commanded her own coup and thrown her out by now. 

Tracer did not want a high-performing, regimented organization, she wanted a collection of pals. 

Pharah thought over this problem as she sat out back, the high prairie waving in the way she remembered when she visited her father. There were never enough of those times, and yet there was not a moment when she did not think of him, seeing it. 

“If it isn’t me romantic rival! Never forgive you, I will, for--” 

“Angela said you were nothing to her.”

“Doubt she quite put it that way love, but you’re not wrong,” Tracer giggled happily and sat by Pharah on the back step, cracking open her beer. 

“It is fifteen hours fifteen. On a Wednesday.”

“Always wanted a talking watch,” she took a drink, “Glad I didn’t bring you one then, you want to be such a spoilsport over the whole thing. Anyhow, love, I’m English and the rules is different for us, right? Right.” 

Pharah said nothing, simply looked out to the field in back of the house, the wind brushing through the field in hushed tones. 

“Wondered if you’d ever ask Ang about it. Thought your pride might get to you, thinking, like,” she affected an intensely annoying Egyptian, so she thought, accent, “I have no cause to compete with Tracer. Angela has married me, and if she had wanted Tracer, she would have done so, but love,” she returned to her own accent, and Pharah wasn’t sure which was worse, “did you ever think it was me who rejected ‘er? Broke ‘er heart and continued on me adventuring sort of way?” 

“You didn’t.” She continued to look at the tall grass. 

“No, I didn’t, but you might ‘ave considered that I did.” 

Pharah looked at her for a moment, hoping she hadn’t noticed the flick of her brow when Tracer had mentioned Mercy had already chosen Pharah, and if she had wanted Tracer, she could have had her. Of course she thought Pharah would reason that out, because it was the intelligent conclusion to come to. It was the thing Mercy had said immediately.

“As it is, I was only ‘aving a go, and it’s not precisely my fault, love, that you’re so very easy to ‘ave a go at, right? You going to rise to the occasion every time I poke at you? I mean, that’s great fun for me, but it might be a bit tiring for you. Ask Win, I’m just a bit of a prankster, love, and---you could ‘ave properly asked me, Fareeha, in seriousness, what the nature of it was, and I’d ‘ave told you the truth. I never meant to ‘urt you, not really--” 

“You didn’t.” 

Tracer paused a moment, waiting for Pharah to elaborate, but broke as the seconds ticked on. 

“You don’t ‘ave to like me, Fareeha. But if this is to work, you do ‘ave to trust me. I like you, in a way,” She popped to her feet quickly, “but you don’t ‘ave to like me.” She turned to leave, thought better of it, and turned around, nodding. “And it was funny.” 

“You don’t have to like me,” Pharah did not turn around to look at her, “but you do have to grow up.” 

The sun glowered, hot and oppressive, grasshoppers buzzing into the day, as Tracer walked away. 

[sideblogformindtrash]

SUMMER OF WHUMP - DAY 18 - COLLAPSE

Red breaking his knees >:3

CW: Broken bones; fight dogs; human trafficking; pet whump; gross food; dehumanization;

He finished one of those poorly tasting protein shakes. He had to admit it was a little better than the ‘pet food’ others received, but just because they needed to keep the fighting dogs in shape. The others… They were kept barely nourished enough. They shouldn’t have just enough energy to complete the tasks their Masters required them to. He almost pitied them. But they had chosen that, hadn’t they?

He just hated that they had to have lunch in the training room. This meant several other fighter dogs, all protectively holding their meals, growling, as if it was about to be taken from them. That, and armed men on the doors, and handlers watching their every move. The fight instructor was probably the worst of them, with that fucking bladed whip always handing from his waist.

Speaking of which, he got up, pushing his own lunch aside - some actually good human food - and picked up the whip. He wasn’t going to use it on anyone, hopefully, but he liked to have that on hand.

He set the empty cup aside.

“Alright everyone. Break time over. Everyone back to your places. 300-405, 300-412, I want you to in the center”

Alright, that meant it was their turn to fight each other, while the other dogs trained with equipment, either punching the punch bags, attacking some human shaped dolls or just doing some sort of muscular training. He couldn’t lie… He was always excited when he was called to the middle. He liked to fight. And being able to hurt someone, even a little bit… Was comforting.

He had tried to fight thoughts like that back on the day. He knew they wanted him to hurt the other dogs, to be angry at them and show no mercy, even if they were all stuck in the exact same situation. They were supposed to be enemies, but he didn’t want things to be like that. Yet… it was the only route he had to channel his hurt. Anger was a damn good outlet for it, and unlike the little lapdogs, he was at least allowed to express himself like that. Again, something he was grateful for.

He got to the center, balancing on his legs, hands in front of him on a standard defensive position. The other dog did the same, eyes narrowed and mouth twisted in scorn. They had to wait for the trainer to allow them to start, and they couldn’t do serious damage… But they could still rough each other up.

The trainer gave the sign, and the other pet attacked first. He evaded that first hit, and tried to counter attack on the pet’s stomach. They flinched, avoiding the worst of it, but he still got them. As the pet leaned to protect their stomach, he tried to attack his face instead. The other pet jumped to the side and kicked his legs. It wasn’t enough to break his balance, but he turned around and tried to push the other pet down. The other pet fell.

...He should have stopped, then. The trainer ordered him to. But… He didn’t want to stop. Not with all that adrenaline on him, not when the pet was looking at him like that… He jumped over the fallen pet, about to punch his face. He was yanked away from him by the trainer, throwing him on the floor on his back, the dangerous whip crackling inches away from his face.

“I SAID ENOUGH, And you WILL fucking OBEY ME” He lifted he whip again, stepping over the Pet’s chest “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but you will NOT ignore orders. Next time you do something like this, you’ll be getting-”

The trainer didn’t manage to finish. The guards shouted to alert them, running towards them, all the other pets flinching away… But it was too late. Theo other pet he had been fighting attacked him, holding the trainer’s chair. He cracked it over his legs, and Pet couldn’t avoid the blow because the trainer had him pinned down.

The cracking sound… Wasn’t just from the chair. And Pet screamed, howling in agony.

...Everything started to spin, as the guards dragged every pet back to their cells, trainers raised him and carried him inside to the medical room, where he was strapped to the table, his vision punctured by white spots.

The pet had a long, difficult recovery. One that never fully healed him, despite the physiotherapy. Both of his knees had suffered severe damage. Pet couldn’t stand for long or walk too much, let alone run, and of course… he couldn’t fight anymore.

And then the Pet started to live his worst nightmare.

He was repurposed as a lapdog. A journey that was…. torturous.

All that he had learned was good, that he could express to survive, like his anger, agression… It was now bad, wrong, and he was severely punished for it. His temper was a problem. Him being strong and knowing how to fight was atrocious. They had to make him weak, and fragile and sweet, and that was not what he had been built for. What he had been training for ever since he remembered.

Every time he saw that pet in the facility again, he seemed to have a mocking expression. ‘Look who became a sweet little lapdog’, they would whisper. He swore he would kill that pet someday, but… He never saw them again.

And they were… so done with him, now that his value had been lowered so much. He was sold as a ‘not-fully-trained’ mutt, for someone who wanted to fucking break him as a challange

taglist: @summer-of-whump, @nicolepascaline

[biot08]

Preaching to the choir

*long, long before the events of the ARR, before her adventuring career:*

Rayford Portier was reaching the end of recounting the things that he wished to bring to Ser Vauban’s attention regarding the current state of everything he had felt affected the little fort in Coerthas. There was much; despite the lack of importance of the family’s name, the fort was still a critical outpost in the Dragonsong war, and the patrol routes that left it regularly covered a large area. He had mentioned the need for certain supplies, had brought in letters that would need to be distributed, and the skywatcher’s early reports for the upcoming season. But at last, he found he could finally no longer avoid the news he was not looking forward to relaying. “…and, ah, your father sends word of one last bit of business.”

He did not continue talking. Zoissette had spent much of the meeting busying herself with the watch schedule, her pen scribbling names into slots. She was paying attention, and the break in the flow of Rayford’s speech did not go unnoticed. Her writing slowed as she finished writing one last name for now, and she gently stuck the feathers of her quill into her mouth before slowly looking up with a head tilt. Rayford simply fixed her with a steady gaze. She reached over, and placed the pen back into its ink pot, and she sat up.

“The Inquisition intends to make an appearance at the closing of the next moon.”

The two looked at each other. Zoissette drew a long breath in and then let it out slow. She leaned forward, and clasped her hands tightly together on the desk. She had been at the fort for a bit over five seasons. During that time, she had seen and participated in several skirmishes. She had taken care of her people as best as she was able with the meager budget a lesser house could spare. The fort was important enough to be manned, but not at all glamourous. It was sticks duty. There would be no chance for young up and comings to make their name out here, mostly rebuffing scouting parties. It was a duty that was tolerated as necessary, but not celebrated, and gaining the trust of the soldiers and support staff had required simply showing up and doing the work. No speeches. No lectures. No preaching. Just showing up, and showing that she was simply there to do the job. And certainly no delusions of power (she didn’t have), delusions of holiness (she didn’t feel), nor displays of extravagance (she wouldn’t waste precious resources on).

She could feel it all fraying and coming apart under the heavy hand of the Holy See.

When she spoke, she drew out her words, enunciating fully, as though care of word indicated holiness of intent. “Have they said what cause of heresy they suspect?”

“None, ser. They claim this to be a routine visit. It has been some time since they have come out this way. Apparently, to hear your father retell it, they merely think now to be an opportune time. The astrologians believe this to be a point of a longer lull than usual in the fighting. The Holy See wishes to make an appearance. Do a few interviews. Make sure all is well, and when they find that it is, take the opportunity to… remind the soldiers who they fight for, and what they fight against.”

Rayford’s tone was politely neutral. It always was. A skill he practiced as he lived. Zoissette was pretty sure his idea of raising his voice was inflecting his syllables differently.

“I… see. Well, I doubt they will find anything here,” Zoissette said. There was an unspoken ‘I hope’ there. She was new yet, but not stupid. Heretics, if they were present, would certainly go to pains to keep themselves hidden.

“May I be free with my words, ser?”

“Always, Rayford. Always and particularly now.”

“The men and women will need to be told, but you should be careful with how you handle them in the coming weeks. This will be a delicate time. Many of them have had run ins with the Inquisition over their lives. All of them will have seen the Inquistion’s work at a distance. The work may be necessary, but it is often brutal, and even the most innocent and pious sort of man may see a hollow shadow behind him in the mirror when he hears that the inquisitors will be calling.”

Zoissette buried her face in her hands. “I know.”

~~~

The Sergeant at Arms stood over the practice pit, watching lancers and archers coordinate their attacks on the training dummies at the far end of the area. He was an old hyur, with gray grizzled hair and a scar on half his face. He had lost an ear and his good looks to a dragon early in his career, and like as not would be at the fort supervising others rather than being out on patrol. He did not care for that, but his experience was valuable, and he had the rare enough knack of teaching.

Zoissette liked him. He tolerated her. She knew that, and appreciated it for what it was.

He was now frowning at the news. Zoissette often would just stop in long enough to do turnover with him and then be on her way without getting in his, but this time, she lingered, watching him mull over the news, and wanting to be present should he have something to say about it.

He looked over at her, expression dark, and lowered his voice.

“Do they suspect heresy here, madam?”

She hated being called madam, but she let him get away with it. Again. Good teacher. Rare knack. And he didn’t let the others do it, so a minor loss for a better gain.

“No. Routine visit, they say. Just want to conduct interviews and remind us of our duties.”

The man’s scowl deepened, and he pointed at a pair of trainees that had slowed their advance. Once they were startled back into action, he turned to Zoissette.

“Ill news. Almost be easier if they had announced they had found heretics and were performing their investigation. Then my soldiers would have focus. They would not trust each other for a bit, sure, but I can work with that. As it is, they will be jumping at every shadow, jumping over each other to ‘prove’ their piousness. Discipline’ll improve, sure. Moral, though? It’s going to plummet. The next month is going to be hell.”

Zoissette sighed, and nodded. “I know.”

The two continued to discuss the realities of the situation and how to try to work through it, and then both returned their attention to their respective duties.

~~~

Zoissette was in the fort’s library. The fort was small, but it did have its library, and a reasonable selection of books. She was hoping to find a treatise on pole arm tactics.

Instead, as she turned away from the shelves empty-handed, she found one of the maids standing there, eyes downcast and hands folded in front of her. The woman was obviously in distress.

Odd. Usually the house staff would go to Rayford if they needed something.

“Esmerelda?”

“Y-yes madam. Knight! Knight ser. Ser. Yes, yes ser,” the woman stammered.

“Hey hey hey. Deep breath in, let it out slow, you’re okay, we’re okay.”

“Yes. Of course, ser. Yes ser. Begging your pardon, ser…”

The woman’s voice trailed off, becoming small. Zoissette clasped her hands behind her, and gave the woman her full attention. She suspected.

She was right.

“Ser, do we… do we have heretics, here, ser?”

Zoissette shook her head. “Not that I know. Look, it’s… it’s just a routine visit. Nothing to worry about. They say they just-“

The woman swallowed, hard, and stared at the floor. Zoissette fell silent, to let the woman have space to speak.

“My… my apologies, ser. This is hard for me. I … I am a good and pious woman, ser. I know I have nothing to fear from the Inquisition, ser. I know it. I … I KNOW it, ser. But… I want you to know it too, ser.”

Zoissette inwardly had to admit, that usually Rayford was the bridge between her and the staff, much as the Sergeant at Arms was the bridge between her and the non-noble soldiers. But this woman was clearly in distress, and it fell to her to be present. Zoissette nodded, and put a hand on the maid’s shoulder.

“Of course. I have never had cause to suspect.”

“I… I apologize, ser.. I just… it’s just… I came to House Vauban because I could no longer stand to stay at my previous house, ser. They found… they found heretics among the staff, ser. They… they chose to make an example of them, ser.”

The woman took several deep breaths, steadying her nerves, and then all of a sudden, her expression went dead, and her body seemed to fold in on itself.

“They put them to the sword in the courtyard, ser. I thought several of them my friends, ser. They ended it quickly, thank the Fury for small mercies, but… I am no soldier, ser. I am just house staff. I had seen death before of course. We all have. But this was different. I did not handle it gracefully. In the days and moons afterward, I could not see the courtyard without seeing … them. So I left, ser. Your family was kind enough to take me on, ser. It can be hard for a commoner to find good work if they leave their priors like I did, but yours took me on, and I am grateful, but…”

The woman’s voice trailed off. Zoissette tried a smile she hoped was reassuring and squeezed the maid’s shoulder. The maid looked up at Zoissette’s hand, and reached her own up, to touch it.

“I know I am out of line, ser. And I know the Inquisition is necessary ser. But I cannot forget that day, ser. I am a good and pious woman, I promise ser. I just… I just need you to know that.”

“I know,” said Zoissette.

~~~

“We’ve got a problem,” said Ser Jervoix.

Vauban was a minor house, and the fort was not an important one, but sometimes the other minor houses would pass around their knights, both as a show of mutual support and a way to expand the experience of their officer corps. The fort was not a prestigious outpost, and the work was not exactly easy, but it still had to be done. And that was how Zoissette had come to have another visiting noble who helped her. She had only been there for a season, and would only stay for another. She had been surly at first, but had steadily grown used to the situation, and while she was not a friend, she was at least reasonable to work with. So while Zoissette handled matters closer to the fort, being the face of the family, Gilda Jervoix had been leading patrols and managing the remote camp.

That she had come back early said much. That her first sentence was that said more. Zoissette nodded and gestured to the table nearby. The two sat, and Zoissette poured them both a cup of the customary mulled wine.

“One of our men spooked at the news of the Inquisition coming,” said Gilda. “When he went, several others abandoned their posts also.”

Zoissette groaned. “Heretics after all?”

“I am sure the Inquisition will suspect so, but no. I don’t think so. I spoke with the men. It took some asking around, and a bribe or two, but I learned much. The man who first ran was in a village that had unknowingly harbored heretics. They were apparently sneaking into an abandoned house using a tunnel system of some sort.”

“I think I recall hearing this news from my father. It’s one of those inspiring stories they like to tell. The heretics were found out because they were stealing from the villagers under cover of night. When the villagers investigated, they stumbled upon the heretics’ stash, finding both their stolen items and some draconic artifacts. Rather than handle the situation themselves, they pretended to ignore it. Notified the Inquisition.”

“I heard the same story, right. The Inquisition swept in, burned the heretics, and held the people of the town up as model citizens.”

“I feel like that story must be at least ten years old. What’s that have to do with our missing man?”

“That story is a just a little older than your guess. Older than I remembered, to be honest. Sixteen years ago, it made quite an impression on a certain eight year old who watched the house next to his get burned to the ground… with the people still inside.”

Zoissette sat back in her chair and stared at the ceiling, and groaned.

“As for the others, I think they were already skittish. If a man who was declared such a holy example from his youth feared the inquisition…”

“…what hope could they have. Yeah.”

Gilda looked at her drink.

“I know the work the Inquisition does is necessary. There are those who would tear down Ishgard, and do the same to us, if not worse. But should we not be better than them? Should we not be so… brutal?”

“I know,” said Zoissette.

“More may flee in the coming weeks. Maybe not permanently - I got news from one of the other holdings, in fact, that our man had been spotted on the road -to- Ishgard. I think he was merely hoping to not be here while the Inquisition is. Hard to say. But with him and the others gone… our patrols are thinner now. It’s going to be hard to fill out schedules. Like I said… we’ve got a problem.”

“I know,” Zoissette repeated, feeling a sinking weight in her chest.

~~~

Zoissette greeted the Inquistor at the door with a salute.

“Greetings, with all due respect from House Vauban. It is our privilege to host you at our holdings. Please, come in.”

The inquisitor walked into the fort, looking around, taking stock of his surroundings. He wore a coat, lined thick with sumptuous fabrics. Gold chains littered the outside of it, and various rosaries and other symbols of his holy office. His presence was unmistakeable, and he seemed fit to try to fill the space with himself.

He smiled warmly at Zoissette.

“Ah, Madam Vauban, Ser Knight. Thank you for receiving me.”

“Of course. We have prepared a meal for you, of course, that you may have at your leisure. If you are tired after your journey, our house servant, Rayford Portier, has already prepared a room for you. He is at your disposal for the duration of your stay, as, of course, am I.”

The inquisitor nodded, a faint smile on his face. “Of course, of course. Thank you, Madam Vauban. I trust that you, of course, understand the importance of our work out here. I will need to see your books, of course, so that I can schedule interviews with the people. I do not think I will find anything, but often you can find hidden truths that point, if not at a person, at least elsewhere. Diligence is the price we pay, and we will pay it in full.”

“I know,” said Vauban.

“And it is the hope of the Holy See that the men will find the site of one of us visiting even such a distant outpost will be inspiring. We care for them, after all, one and all. They will surely look upon this as a momentous occasion, as their purity is seen for the truth of itself, and be bolstered by knowing their own holiness demonstrated. Our purpose is for the glory of Ishgard, you know.”

“I know,” said Vauban.

“Good, good. Of course you do. All is well for now, then. I think I shall retire for the evening. I have been traveling all day, and we can start our work early, and fresh, tomorrow morning. This is good work that we will do, Madam Vauban,” the inquisitor said, offering Vauban a smile.

Zoissette returned the smile, but her eyes were cold, and her smile was brittle.

“I know,” she said.

[olivinesea]

Off Souls, pt. 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

a/n: As promised. I truly don’t know what I’m doing you guys, so wish me luck and I hope you enjoy it. I’m having fun in any case. ~3.6k

Hotch makes a mistake.

Back out in the world everything seemed sweeter. It was nearly spring and the trees had started to blossom. Both of them felt an almost frantic sense of optimism. Emily, giddy and still a little lightheaded, walked close to Hotch as they made their way back to campus. They made plans for the rest of the afternoon: they would camp out in Hotch’s common room watching Planet Earth (a compromise—Hotch vetoed Saw but Emily insisted she needed to see some sort of carnage and flat out refused to entertain any suggestions involving cartoons), they’d order pizza and Hotch promised to make “the special hot chocolate” that just involved mixing the packet with milk instead of water.

They had just gotten back onto campus and were turning to take the route to their dorm. Intensely bickering over pizza toppings, they didn’t notice the man step into their path.

“Emily?”

She stopped short, immediately recognizing the voice. Hotch stopped next to her, alert. He looked between Emily’s stunned expression and the stranger in front of them.

“Hello there,” the man’s voice was friendly. “It’s been a while.”

Emily didn’t say anything but couldn’t look away either. This was exactly what she had hoped to avoid. She tried to think of a way out of this, anything to get them out of this moment.

“Do I know you?” Hotch asked the man, not liking the way he had moved in so close.

He turned his cold eyes to Hotch for a moment and smirked, turning back to Emily. “What? Too embarrassed to introduce me to your boyfriend?”

Emily’s mouth opened and closed, not managing to create any sound.

“We’re not—“ Hotch stopped and looked at Emily again. He could feel her shaking, her fear unmistakable. He snapped his eyes back to the other man, who looked at him indifferently.

“No? She can be a little difficult.” He smiled viciously at Emily. “Although, maybe you’re just not her type.” He casually reached forward to run a finger down the curve of her cheek. He didn’t make it halfway to her jaw before Hotch swung at him. He stumbled backward, surprised. He glanced at Emily, who hadn’t moved, and looked back at Hotch who was pale with fury.

“I wouldn’t,” the man said mildly. “She isn’t worth it, believe me.”

Hotch was on top of him in less than a breath. The second hit knocked him down entirely, his head hit the ground so hard it recoiled. The man fought back, throwing his fists wildly, catching Hotch across the cheekbone. It didn’t slow him down. Hotch was bigger and far, far angrier. All the rage he’d been holding back easily broke through any rational thought. He knelt across the other man’s chest and swung at him relentlessly. He was completely unaware of the way people started to gather around them, of the way the other man grew more and more still, no longer struggling against him. He couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see past the brightness of his hatred.

There was a tug on his shoulder as he pulled his arm back to slam his fist into the other man’s face again. His elbow connected with something soft. He turned to see Emily doubled over and gasping. She clutched at her abdomen, trying to catch her breath. Abruptly aware of the rest of the world, he looked around at the horrified faces of the crowd. He looked down at his hands, knuckles split and covered in blood. He gagged, close to throwing up at the smell, so sharp and familiar. He scrambled up and put a hand on Emily’s back. He bent over to try to see her face. She was breathing okay again but still squeezing tightly around her middle. He could see that she was close to tears.

“It hurts,” she whispered.

His heart broke. He spent years and years trying to change, trying to get away from this. Still, here he is again, losing control and hurting the only person he cared about. For what? He sent a nervous glance to the body on the ground, horribly still. This wouldn’t fix anything. It had been selfish. He had realized exactly who the man was and instead of thinking, he let his temper snap. And now Emily was hurt. He had hurt her. His thoughts were racing now, all the functionality he had lost to single-minded revenge returned. He knew he should stay, should make sure the other man got help and own up to his crime. But he needed to get Emily home safely first. That had been the original plan and he clung to the shredded remains of it like it might save him somehow.

“Come on,” he said as gently as he could, “let’s get back.”

She nodded and managed to stand mostly upright. She deliberately did not look at Hotch’s hands or the destruction he’d caused. Her mind was having a hard time grasping a complete thought.

She had been frightened by the way his face had hardened, all evidence of the person she knew replaced with a stony ruthlessness. She grew more worried as his strikes took on an almost rhythmic quality, like he wasn’t aware of the harm he was causing anymore. That was when she was able to break out of her immobility, to call his name and, when that hadn’t worked, try to grab hold of him, physically hold him back. That hadn’t worked well for her either. What had been a hardly noticeable dull ache in her abdomen had become sharp and painful. The first violent stab had taken her breath away. She leaned over, hoping that by applying pressure she could get the muscles to calm down, to stop trying to rip her apart from the inside out. It wasn’t really working.

At least Hotch was back with her, his sanity returned. He was hovering over her nervously, unsure how to help, mortified that he had caused this. She let him guide her through the thickening crowd. Some people were on their phones, some people were talking quietly to each other, no one tried to stop them. He might not be overcome with fury at the moment but they had all seen what he could do, how he had transformed. They might whisper that it was wrong of him to leave and embellish their stories later, claiming they had tried to confront him, but no one was going to step in Aaron Hotchner’s path right then.

They made it back to the dorm without further incident. The ride up the elevator silent and thankfully empty. When they got to their floor, he hesitated.

“Do you still want to come to my room?”

She shook her head. “I think I just need to lie down for a bit,” she said through clenched teeth. It was taking everything she had not to collapse onto the floor.

He did his best not to show his disappointment. He reminded himself that this was about her and not what he wanted. He would have done better to remember that earlier as well. He knew he would pay for that one way or another but he wanted to make sure she was okay. She was all that mattered. So he led her to her room and helped her take off her shoes. He found some water for her to take the pain medication with and made sure to refill it. He shut her curtains even though the sun would be going down soon anyway.

She laid down on her side, hugging a pillow to her chest, eyes heavy. She appreciated what he was doing, trying to take care of her. But she really wished he would leave. There was too much in her mind and she needed to turn everything off for awhile. The pain in her stomach was severe and all she could focus on.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked, trying to sound neutral.

“No, I’m okay.”

He nodded but wasn’t sure that she was telling the truth. Her face twisted in pain and she looked unnaturally pale.

“It’s okay Aaron, I promise. I’ll—I’ll call you later. When I wake up. I just…” her words were getting more and more stilted, her breaths shorter.

“Okay, you can call me if you need anything. I can bring you food later.” He found himself still unwilling to leave her.

She waved her hand at him and curled more tightly around the pillow.

He flipped off the light as he closed the door, followed out by a muffled “thank you.” Once she was out of sight, he understood why he had been so reluctant to leave. Without her to take care of, he had nothing to think about but the blood covering his hands and the terrible mistake he’d just made. He walked back to his room, unable to think about anything but the memory of the flashing anger compelling him to drive his fists into the other man’s face and chest, again and again.

He deserved it, a part of him reasoned as he rinsed his hands under the faucet. The warm water stung the places where his skin had split and his knuckles were swollen at the joints. He didn’t disagree with that. If Emily’s rapist was run over by a bus and then slowly eaten alive by vultures, he couldn’t see anything wrong with that. The man deserved no mercy. No, the problem was that he had lost control of himself. He had let the violence inside him get out and he hated himself for it. It proved his inability to escape the past he always tried to deny. Every day he tried to make different choices than his father but he was still wholly capable of the same kind of brutality he had been taught. No matter how much he worked to change it, inside him was something hard and dangerous.

He cleaned up his hands as best he could. The skin under his left eye was puffy and red where he had been hit. He pressed on it with his fingertips, frowning as the skin turned white under the pressure then filled back in bright red when he let go. It would turn into a dark bruise that would mark him as a fighter for weeks.

Unsure what to do with himself he tried to catch up on some classwork. He had been so focused on Emily he had let some things start to get away from him. After staring at his laptop for an hour though, he gave up. He tried texting her to see if she was up and wanting company but didn’t get a response.

He paced the hallways where he ran into another kid who lived on their floor. He thought maybe his name was Darren. Unable to avoid it, he stopped to chat. They exchanged some empty information about the day. Hotch hoped to extract himself quickly by being as bland as possible.

“Did you hear about the guy who got his ass beat out on the lawn?”

Hotch shrugged warily while the other guy stared openly at his cheek.

“They say the guy who did it just walked away like nothing happened.”

Hotch still didn’t respond, increasingly self-conscious.

“They’re looking for him. The guy he beat up is in the hospital, half dead. No doubt he’s gonna press charges once they figure out who did it.”

“That’s, uh, that’s pretty wild.” He knew this lie wasn’t going to last long but he hadn’t figured out what he was going to do yet. He needed more time. He needed to make sure Emily was okay before anything happened to him.

“Most excitement we’ve had all year.”

Hotch made a non-committal sound, trying to think of a polite way to end this conversation. “Sorry, I really have to go. My friend is sick and I need to check on her.”

Maybe-Darren waved him off, unconcerned. The guy was odd and if he wasn’t so quiet, so studious, it would be easy to believe he was the culprit. He always looked angry and rarely spoke to anyone besides the loud girl he hung around with. Maybe-Darren considered it for a brief moment as he walked to the elevators. If the Hotch kid was the other fighter, he certainly did not see any reason to get involved. You never knew when a guy like that was going to snap (or snap again) and he liked his face the way it was.

Hotch retreated to his common area. Too anxious to be in his room but too nervous to go outside and potentially run into someone who could identify him. He knew it was only a matter of time before a decision was made for him regarding the attack. There wasn’t much hope of him coming out of that in a good position. He knew he deserved whatever he had coming to him but he still felt regretful about Emily. They had only just mended their relationship and now he was probably going to have to leave her on her own again. He hoped she would forgive him.

Thinking about her, he checked his phone again but no messages had come through. He sighed, frustrated at his ineffectualness. There had to be something better he could be doing. Suddenly he remembered the heating pad he had stored under his sweaters. He’d been attached to that thing growing up; the only comfort he could ever count on. Since coming to school he had felt a little embarrassed pulling it out in front of the other guys in his dorm. So it had lived in his drawer untouched for awhile. He was sure it would be useful to Emily, even if she didn’t want him there he could do this for her. He pulled it out and headed towards her end of the building.

The floor was quiet, most people out at dinner or still studying. When he got to her dorm, he found the door ajar and the lights on. He knocked lightly before pushing it open only to be faced with an empty bed. He turned slowly to look around the girls’ common area, as if she might be hiding behind some piece of furniture. He pulled out his phone and tried to call her but he could hear her phone buzzing amidst the blankets on her bed. He dug around and found it, seeing that all of his messages that afternoon had been left unopened. Concerned now, he dropped phone and heating pad on the unmade bed and left the room to look for her.

As he passed the bathroom he heard the shower running. He wavered for a moment— prominent among the strict rules he followed was one prohibiting him from entering the women’s restroom. His worry outweighed his propriety and he pushed the door open slightly.

“Emily?” he called. “You in there?”

There was no response besides the sound of running water and steam escaping through the opened door.

“I’m gonna come in there for a second. Just tell me if you want me to stay out.”

Still no response. He felt his heart picking up speed, dire scenarios starting to flash through his mind.

The curtain was pulled across the last shower stall, water pooling slightly beneath it.

“Emily?” he called again. He heard a sniffle. “Hey, are you okay?”

After a long pause he finally got a response.

“I’m fine.”

He could hear from the shake in her voice she was anything but fine.

“I’m worried about you, Em.” He closed his eyes, trying to figure out what the right thing to do was. “Please, let me help. What can I do?”

This was met with more silence.

He had just opened his mouth to try to convince her to come out when thin fingers appeared near the bottom of the curtain. They pulled it open slightly and he could see her, thankfully still clothed in shorts and a tank top, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, one arm wrapped tightly around them. Her hair hung around her face in dripping chunks and her eyes were tired.

“Sit with me?”

He looked at her doubtfully. “How about you get out first?” he countered. “I brought—“

“Please? I just want to stay here a little longer.”

He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up. He thought about all the reasons he did not want to sit in a shower in a women’s restroom. But he couldn’t say no. He sighed as he kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head.

“I’m not getting naked.”

“What a shame,” she said dryly.

He blushed as he undid his pants. He still couldn’t figure out how she was so nonchalant about undressing. But he powered through the discomfort and took a deep breath before stepping into the shower.

She had edged over to make room for him. He slid down the wall, folding his long legs in to fit the space. Once the initial distaste of being unexpectedly wet wore off, he could see how this could be soothing. She leaned against him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He tilted his head back so water wouldn’t drip into his eyes and mouth. They sat like that quietly for several minutes.

“You scared me,” she admitted, tracing his injured hand with her finger.

“I know. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have—“

“I wish I could have done it myself.”

He paused, unsure how to respond. “It was wrong of me.”

“He deserved it. I was thinking about how happy I would be if he died.” Then, “Do you think that makes me a bad person?”

“No. Thinking things doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“But you think you’re a bad person.” Her statement, so simple, drove right into his heart and made his breath catch.

“Well, I’ve done bad things, so, that’s…that’s how that works.” She tucked her head against his shoulder. “Is it bad if you were protecting someone else?”

“It was more than that,” he said, refusing to let himself off the hook.

She sighed. “I don’t think you’re bad. I think you made a mistake. Mistakes don’t make you a bad person either.”

He didn’t say anything to this and they sat in silence again. The water ran down their bare legs and collected around their feet. He could feel the temperature starting to cool and goosebumps began to form on his arms.

“Can we get out now?”

She ignored him for a moment, staring at her toes, lost in thought. He shifted and she looked over at him. Impulsively, she kissed him on the cheek before rolling up to her feet and turning off the water. He was a little dazed by the action and was slower to stand. She briskly opened the curtain and stepped out of the shower, unfazed by the wet clothes clinging to her. She stripped before toweling off and, deeply embarrassed, he stared hard at the floor while he shivered.

“Here,” was all the warning she gave before launching the towel at him. He barely caught it before it fell on the wet ground. His eyes went wide when he realized she had nothing on now and was relieved when she walked out of the bathroom. He dried off as best he could and got dressed before following her to her room. When he got there she looked at him with a raised eyebrow, holding up the heating pad gingerly.

“It’s a heating pad,” he sounded defensive.

“I know what it is. Why do you have one?”

He shrugged. “It comes in handy.”

“Hmm. Ok.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “I can take it back to my room.”

“No, no. It’s mine now. You brought it to me.”

“That’s what I thought.”

They smiled at each other and he thought about how fucking lucky he was.

“Want to watch something?”

“Sure, whatever you want.” He regretted it immediately.

She grinned. “Whatever I want?”

“Please don’t pick something that’s going to give me nightmares,” he groaned.

She looked wicked as she patted the bed next to her. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

He climbed into the narrow bed as she pulled out her laptop and started discussing possibilities. He didn’t really listen, he wasn’t planning on paying attention anyway. The shower was more relaxing that he could have hoped and he found himself thoroughly exhausted by the day. He hummed in agreement whenever it seemed like she was waiting for input and finally she pulled something up. He was asleep before they made it ten minutes into the movie.

He didn’t wake up until much later. She’d fallen asleep too, the closed laptop had slid down between her and the wall. He could feel the warmth from the heating pad wrapped around her middle and smiled. He found his phone to check the time and saw it was already 5:30 am. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept for that long. He yawned as he slid out of the bed, careful not to wake Emily. He carried his shoes in his hand as he walked down the hall back to his room. He was startled to find several people in uniform occupying his common room. They all turned to look at him when he walked in.

“Aaron Hotchner?”

“Yes?” Any lingering sleepiness vanished and part of him was tempted to turn and run. Run back to the warmth he had just left, hide beneath that soft sea of blankets indefinitely.

“We’ve been looking for you.”

~Part 5~

[midnightactual]

As a child, before she acquired a zanpakuto, did she have an idea or fantasy of what she wanted her abilities to look like? Was she consequently excited or disappointing with the reality of how her soul manifested its power? (if she had one more or less since as long as she can remember, can you talk a little bit about the Shihoin's traditions in training their heirs and the logic or superstition behind it?)

I’m going to take the scenic route in answering this one, so you’ll have to bear with me. I’ve been (probably rather obviously) watching Cobra Kai lately (into season 3 now) and although there are lots of things to recommend it, two things that I think are very interesting about it (and that apply to this question) are the themes of generational trauma and incomplete philosophies of life. The first—the mistakes and overcorrections of one generation transferring to the next—is pretty self evident, but the second bears some more scrutiny.

Cobra Kai, the dōjō, has a simple set of three rules: “Strike first. Strike hard. No mercy.” Meanwhile, Miyagi-Do, the dōjō, has just one ethos: “First learn balance. Balance good, karate good, everything good.” A thing that I think the show strives to communicate without constantly shoving it in the viewer’s face is that both are right, actually. They’re just incomplete. Both are inflexible. Cobra Kai’s logic has ruthlessness when it counts, but lacks balance and predictably always overcommits. Miyagi-Do’s logic has balance, but lacks the ability to commit and engage decisively. Both are unsustainable. And the problem with Cobra Kai’s ethos in particular is that it can’t be readily grasped by teenagers, because it takes wisdom and experience to see its failings. (Meanwhile, Miyagi-Do’s ethos can cultivate wisdom, but it can become a trap that prevents thinking outside the box it creates.) Johnny Lawrence eventually figures this out from the Cobra Kai end through a long series of painful missteps, and sums it up with:

“This creed on the wall... follow it to the letter, it'll make you strong. It’ll make you formidable. It will also make you an asshole. ’Cause that’s just black paint on a white wall. But life’s not black and white. More often than not, it’s gray. And it’s in those gray areas where Johnny Lawrence’s Cobra Kai... sometimes shows mercy.”

So, what does all that have to do with Yoruichi? Well, my conception of the Shihōin Clan, even before I ever saw that show, is that it possessed a mindset a lot like Cobra Kai. (At the time I started here, I imagined her home life as a child as being like a more watered down version of what Azula and Zuko endured under Ozai and Ursa in Avatar: The Last Airbender, with Yoruichi’s father being ultimately rather less of an asshole than Ozai and reforming, and that still fits and correlates quite well to my current thinking, but Cobra Kai makes for a more apt comparison.)

The Shihōin are not only the masters of the martial arts within Soul Society’s nobility, but of combat, conflict, and war as a whole. That is, in a sense, their “purpose”. They’re warriors, right down to their genes, because they not only train for combat (in a grueling and regimented way from childhood, a la the SPARTAN-II program in Halo, or the one shown in Soldier) but they historically bred for it too. (And to some extent, still do, with reiatsu output and quality having been a major element of mate selection as recently as with Yoruichi’s parents, and with even Yoruichi herself sort of subconsciously looking down on the possibility of meaningful long-term intimate relationships with notably weaker partners.)

Anyway, the ultimate traditional end-product of this was Yoruichi, and she reflects the pathologies of the process as much as she does its culmination. (Her decisive defeat of her relatives in Agni Kai to become Clan Head was the ultimate proof of her superior ability and pedigree within this system.) There’s some indication (from Yoruichi herself) that Yūshirō might have an even easier time of achieving power than her, but I view him as a product of a newer, different, and superior process. (Basically: Yoruichi broke the old one, and Yūshirō’s far more playful attitude is a product of a different childhood environment after Yōsuke chilled the fuck out and stopped trying to be Kreese/Ozai; play is really how mammals learn best, after all. Someone like Yūno, @ice-cold-shihoin’s middle sibling OC, is to my mind a sort of intermediary step in this transitional process.)

In other words, Yoruichi was raised to be a complete badass. The total package. The perfect soldier. The ultimate weapon. Not just battlefield superiority, but battlefield supremacy. Strike first. Strike hard. No mercy. And so to finally come back to your actual question, she dreamed of a zanpakutō that’d help her be exactly that: a badass. I don’t think she was really too focused on the nature of how that worked, exactly, so long as it did.

The trouble is: she got it. She joined the Onmitsukidō at 100, manifested her asauchi into a zanpakutō (Kurayami) before she was 101, had her Shikai before she was 103, it became a(n actual) permanent-release type by the time she was 145, and she achieved Bankai at 152. Kurayami’s Shikai form seems rather plain and boring compared to many—unless she so chooses, the sword cannot be perceived except when its edge or point is penetrating a target, and then only visually—but that belies a simple point: it exists purely to kill. Not to duel, not to pacify, not to disarm... to kill, and with the first strike. It’s a blade purely for assassination. And this is even more true of her Bankai, Kurayami Kara Umareta Daikokutennyo, which exists for mass destruction and slaughter. She got exactly what she always dreamed of, and it completely horrified her.

Even by the time she got her Bankai, she had some inkling of what Johnny’s trying to communicate in the earlier quote. She knew that her zanpakutō was inflexible, its use was unsustainable, and that leaning into it too heavily and becoming habituated to it would make her a murderous asshole. (Think like Unohana Yachiru, but even more so, because using Kurayami doesn’t foster any sort of sense of good sportsmanship.) The reason for that is obvious: when all you have is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail. It didn’t help that Kurayami, the zanpakutō spirit, was (and has always been) a kind of dark Azula-like mirror of Yoruichi herself, Yoruichi-As-She-Might-Have-Been had she not met Kaien. (Kind of like Ichigo and “Shirosaki” Zangetsu, but not nearly so extreme or directly comparable as Yoruichi has obviously [?] had no Hollowfication exposure.)

And so, just as Yoruichi had already blatantly rejected her father’s initial efforts to raise her like a boy by radically asserting her femininity, and just as she had tacitly rejected the Shihōin Clan’s focus on total efficiency by becoming far more sociable and using social engineering as much as combat ability, so too did she reject her zanpakutō by developing Shunkō.

It’s only in the present, with the aid of (bitter) wisdom and experience, that she’s gone back to it to not only try use it, but to bend it to her will rather than being afraid of it bending her to its. (To carry on with my theme here, this is actually kinda like adult Johnny going back to try and redeem the Cobra Kai dōjō of his youth and turn it into something more positive.)

Shorter answer: she wanted a badass zanpakutō, and she got rather more than she bargained for in the process. (With all that that says about the base nature of her soul and id, for lack of a better term.)

[danddymaro]

Follow me| Higgs Monaghan x Reader

Damn that Troy Baker and his little voice of his, as well as Higgs for being so captivating. This game is lit.

Also, could this be romance? I’m really just writing concepts I come up with. Sometimes bullshit stories come to mind. 

FUUUUUCCKKK, I already had this thought out and halfway through I realized he wears that fucking pod (ꐦ ಠ皿ಠ )

How could it slip my mind?

Anywhoo..

Everything is pretty understandable, but just a warning, 

‘ example’ = Italics in quotations are thoughts

example = Italics W/out are flashbacks

He watched her, downright dumbfounded, eyes trained on the woman like she was a strange phenomenon. 

And perhaps she was…

She was out In the middle of nothing, miles way from a single living being , excluding himself of course.

‘ So where did she come from? ‘ He wondered, truly perplexed, because it couldn’t be as though she magically appeared out of thin air.

‘Not a shelter in sight either…’ He observed.

He took a quiet step forward, being cautious in doing so, keeping his eyes fully trained on the bizarre woman the entire time. Though, it seemed as though his alertness was unneeded, because she seemed none the wiser, not knowing he was there to begin with. 

Instead, her sights were placed on the little creature crawling along her (s/c) skin. Keenly staring on, she had no mind for anything but  the little orange butterfly walking along her index. Meanwhile, the creature itself seemed just as oblivious as she was about any possible existing danger, happily moving it’s thin, little legs over the flesh.

‘ Like only you exist in this world,’ He thought with disbelief.

A small smile began to surface over her features, one that was undoubtedly pretty, stopping his musing, and every question he had in regards to the strange woman’s unexpected appearance.

It was then that the sound of the crackling sky erupted, echoing throughout the field, and as it did, he noticed she came out of her perfect little world.

The young woman gave a small jump and though he didn't hear it, he knew a small sound left her. The abrupt widening of her eyes, along with the parting of her pretty lips, topped with the sudden growing of her chest indicated it.

 The little happy butterfly which was on her index finger fluttered away in fleet, leaving her behind to stare at it, not being able to do much but follow it with her (e/c) eyes.

.And then she was truly left alone, with nothing but blue eyes to observe her, marveling at her from a distance.  

Standing up from the floor, she began to look up at the grayed sky with her eyebrows creased up, light worry lines on her forehead becoming visible. Inside her mind she began to fret, and finally he got a gimps of what concern seemed like once settled onto her face.

With steady steps she took as she finally rose, walking further from him in a direction that lead to more nothingness, all with notable uncertainty.

‘Are you hoping to find anything?’ He wondered, continuing to watch her, interested in everything she did, wanting to know just where she’d lead him to.

It all felt like a strange dream,a vivid one where he wasn’t tormented, where he didn’t see death , but instead a strange sort of angel, lost in an apocalypse.

In search of something...

 She then reached up, her body lightly shaking as another roar erupted from the somber sky.

 Afraid, she reached up, challenging extinction she stood her ground,

 “Any second now,” he said to himself, knowing that there was only a few more moments left before the Timefall came. Absentmindedly he took a step forward, “If you don’t get out of here...” he trailed off, knowing there wasn’t anywhere she could go.

Knowing just what would happen... 

Her palm faced up to the murky sky for a moment, longing in her heart as she reached out to where the glowing sun had become a stranger. And she wondered when she’d see the glowing star, not having seen it during the many hours she’d spent outside already.

The rain then fell, ready to claim anything that it touched. Merciless as always, it lay waste to anything that dared challenge it with existence with absolutely no exception.

A twitch to his heart made his current step falter, and abruptly he stopped, everything else in the world moving in slow motion as he found his eyes locked with the (h/c) young woman. 

For just a brief moment she stared at him, having found him in her line of sight as she took a gaze at the world around her.

A cloaked figure stood in her vision, and swallowing down largely she took a daring step toward’s it.

If anyone were to ask him why he did it, he wouldn't have a single, sensible answer as to why he took action, but all the same his deed remained. 

He moved faster then he could blink, traveling through the space and reaching her within a second’s time. He encased  her within his cloak, huddled over her as he pressed her close towards his chest, pinning the (h/c) woman to him.

It was then that the downpour began, but of course, she was safe, protected within his safe cocoon, her body stiff with the strong press.

It took her a moment to move, being utterly surprised at first before she seemed to settle, her head inclining back as she brought her eyes up to him, once again connecting.

She stared up at him with wonder, her eyes looking large and beautiful, absolutely breathtaking to him as she stood before him. And to his surprise, she didn't squirm, but instead reached her hand up, cupping the side of his mask's cheek before trailing along the sharp edges with the tips of her fingers.

Cold metal connected with warmed flesh, but it wasn’t something that made her draw away either.  He could see that dancing within her wide open (e/c) eyes was pure hearted  astonishment as she continued to caress the golden piece.

She didn't look afraid, startled perhaps, but not afraid, and it stunned him, shaking him to the core.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her, his voice sounding breathy, but he wasn’t tired.

 If anything, he’d never felt more alive.

He could feel it in his chest, a strange feeling invading him and taking over, 

‘I can’t stop it,’ he thought to himself helplessly.

Blinking a couple times in silence and confusion she shook her head slowly, answering him with uncertainty, “ I don't know,”  she replied, a very soft voice being what graced him. “I'm not sure what I'm doing here,” She added, a gleam to her eyes shining with sadness, replacing the awe that was meant for him. 

“ I was here alone,” she admitted. “And I’ve been her waiting,” she added, a fore lone smile coming into sight.  

“ I wouldn't be able to tell you with certainty how long I was by myself...simply waiting,”  she went on, her hands descending, trailing over part of his chest before coming to the cool glass of his pod.

  “...I don’t even know how to determine how long I had been alone.” she said with the same melancholy.

She'd woken up to the barren land, frightened and cold, left at the mercy of the new dark world she’d been dragged into. There was no sign of life, as even her own heart stilled, quieted as it waited in frightened suspense.

“...How long I had waited,” she added lowly, “ I just sat here waiting to die... waiting for either starvation or something to come and sweep me away,” she admitted with dejection and shame. 

Initially, she’d screamed out for someone, anyone to save her, but no one called back.

No one went in search of the stranded woman, and so having no choice, she went on her own search.

She walked aimlessly, desperate for a ray of hope to shine upon her, but not even the sun graced her. Instead, it stayed hidden behind dark clouds, the murky sky and it's muted colors being all that lay in her sights.

Finally giving in , she fell onto her knees, surrendering at the game of life.

And then the single butterfly landed on her, it’s little legs tickling her nose as it walked along the bridge.

She didn't know how it ended up there either, and she thought that perhaps  it came with her, traveling through the same strange route. It was the only thing that comforted her.

Narrowing her eyes at it she began to smile, abiet somberly, 

“could it be that we are alone?” she asked it, not expecting an answer. “Could it be that no one will come?”

“But you're holding me... someone else is holding me...”she said with a tremor touched voice.

And then she questioned him, 

"Are you some sort of God? ” she said with partial amusement, “ Or death itself?” She questioned him, seeming mystified by the possibility. 

Was such an assumption strange?

Within the barren land someone came to her, appeared before her to hold her. And as though by strange magic he reached her, embracing her.

 He was flattered to say the least, an amused chuckle leaving him, “A god?” he asked himself,  liking the idea as she spoke, 

‘No darling... but I am a partical of God,' he thought to himself with seething pride.

“ What if I tell you that you're right? " he asked her, watching those beautiful eyes sparkle at his response. 

While she waited with diminished hope, and as she screamed and as she pleaded, she’d cried.

She cried her heart’s lament, knowing she’d lay to waste.

His hand's gloved fingers fell down her face, the thick, black material grazing her gently, falling down what had been dried tear trails. 

‘ She’s been crying...

Waiting...’

" What would you do then?"  he asked her his eyes never leaving hers as he found himself unable to draw them away.

He watched as she seemed to contemplate the question,

‘Will you try and run from me? 

Push me away...

I want to know...’

She had to know that whatever savior she hoped for wasn’t there. The idea of a knight in shining armor wasn’t befitting for him.

" I'd be afraid," she admitted." I am afraid," she added, not holding back, " But you're the only one here…"  she told him, " You were the only one that came," she reasoned.  

 He could be death itself, and even then she wouldn’t run, she wouldn’t draw back, so, happily, smiling softly with joyous relief she spoke, 

"You found me.”

He could feel his heart once again bouncing, like a sort of detector setting off in her presence, “ I guess I've been waiting too,” he said lowly, his voice just a short whisper. And during then, his mask dispersed, leaving her to gaze at his true face and nothing more. 

He spoke the truth, despite not realizing before how tangled with her he’d been. But there was no question in his mind that what had magnetized him to the same patch of nothingness she was at was a powerful pull sure to be fate itself.

The trailing fingers stopped, his palms cupping her cheeks instead, holding them dearly. Meanwhile, she reached up again, her fingers touching the dark tears that trailed down his cheeks.

He felt her fingers leave a warm trail where she touched him, effortlessly exiting him as she unexpectedly brushed the digits by the outline of his lips.

Would it be so bad to take her with him?

Would it be so bad to find out more about her? 

Discover how she came to be...

Find out just how she came to him...

“Will you come with me?” he asked her, leaning down to her, his lips so close to her flesh as he spoke, “Will you follow me?” he asked, a curl to his lips as he felt her shiver. 

Over the flesh of her arms little bumps had risen as she was both startled and exited. Nodding silently, she agreed, planning to follow him till the ends of the world, 

which was coincidentally just where he planned to travel with her, 

Right to it’s destruction...

‘Looks like I’ve got my plus one,’ he thought to himself, unable to deny the lovely feeling he felt in his chest.

[sgt-morgan]

Lucky Kentucky ch. 2

Chapter 1

Hello there, welcome back to my Rockstar!Bucky x Reader fic. It was heavily inspired by my love of seventies mega rockstars, Almost Famous, Classic Rock, and a little bit of personal whimsy. I hope you enjoy, and read responsibly.

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ : cussing, sexy times, drugs, booze, smoking, objectification, fornication, liberation, and a litany of other sordid topics and traumas.

“HEY! NOBODY FUCKING MOVE!” To say that the last thing you needed was a missing rockstar, was a drastic understatement, and a testament to your unending will.

“Where in the good sweet name of Jesus is that dick head?” You fumed stomping towards the rest of the band.

“Your guess is as good as ours sweetheart, we got nothing. No phone calls, no texts, no nothing.” Shrugged Steve Rodgers, guitarist and all around good guy. “If I knew that all the time, I think I’d be a millionaire.”

You sighed and looked around you at the fleet of your busses and equipment trucks, and you could have sworn that you were ready to kill that asshole with your bare hands. “Well hot stuff? He better show up quickly, or so help me God he will be sleeping in a tour bus with the newest, dweebiest, roadies I can find. Do you know how bad new roadie busses smell? He will if he dosent get his ass here by the time the last piece of your stage equipment is packed.”

“I think you should land his ass there anyway, to give him time to think about what he’s done.” Sam shrugs, Clint vehemently nodding his support as he wrangles one of his two delightful children. “I think his punsishmet should fit his crimes personally.”

“Oh yeah! I think that’s a great idea! Or, he could stay with Laura and I on our bus, I’m sure the whining infant won’t keep him up all night, He’s gonna love it!” Clint nods, “We have a rule, no booze, broads, or bud around the kids! He’ll dry out quick!”

“No Clint, no worries at all. He won’t sleep or get laid on the roadie bus,” you laugh, “he’ll be surrounded by filth, and endless questions, and gawking. He won’t get the back room either, I’ll give him a bunk. Frankie will be on his bus, that way he never gets away with anything. No escape artists on my watch!” You wink, plucking his oldest, Cooper off his back and wrestling him into a head lock.

“Oof, devious as always.” Natasha laughs nodding and throwing her arm around you. “I remember when I got on your bad side, wasn’t worth the never ending week of publicity with no coffee. That was the strictest ban I’ve ever dealt with for sure.”

“Someone start calling his ass.” You laugh pulling away from Tasha and waking towards Peter to get a rundown on the status of loading up.

“Oh captain, my captain!” Peter saluted, about nine or ten roadies following in his lead while the rest just stood gawking as if they had never seen a woman before. “We are about twenty minutes from setting sail, I have my men sorted into busses and vans, Frankies bus has one extra bed open as per request, and, as our lady of perpetual mystery might be interested to hear, we have a new crew of over eager security team members stocked to the brim on Frankies bus, even worse than the roadies. Is everything ship shape?”

“At ease Parker,” you giggle, shoving him out of his stiff rehearsed stance, “indeed we are ship shape, now if only our little diva Jr. would show face, we could be on our way.” Just as you were finishing that sentence, a car pulled up, and out stumbled the man of the hour, James Barnes.

James Buchanan Barnes was drunk. Inibriated, intoxicated, off his ass, pissed, blitzed, sloshed, ranked, hammered, wrecked, out for the count, drunk. He stumbles out of the Uber, bottle in hand, but at least he was dressed. He stumbled over to the rest of the group, he had a duffel bag, wether it was packed with anything useful is up in the air, you’d make sure you’d get your hands on it and ensure that it had what he needed. Wanda could take care of filling in the gaps. You have now decided that there is no escape from Frankie for him. You’d have to put someone on the bus. You don’t know who yet, but someone. Maybe Quill? Whoever it was, needed to get along with Sam and Steve. Thor, he would work nicely. You’d see to it that Frankie had him moved. Now there was the Liquor problem. This was a decision every road manager has to dread. As any good rockstar could tell you, you have to be stone sober or completely fucked to perform a good show, you just had to decide what would or wouldn’t ruin the band... or him. So, sober it was. No use dragging it on any longer.

“JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES!”

—————————————————————————

Any man alive knew that sound was trouble. No woman used the full Government name if you were in good standings. That was just facts. However, drunk thoughts beget sober truths and the truth is, that was incredibly sexy. When he turned hands raised in surrender whiskey bottle and duffle abandoned he was greeted to the glorious sight of her. Kentucky, dressed in leggings and a ripped up old band tee that he could faintly register belonged to Led Zepplin. Her hair piled up on her head shining in the sunlight her curves begging to be expl-

*whack*

Well, that will sober you up quick.

“Hey dickhead, so glad you could make it!” Sam, not looking too thrilled despite his statement of glad tidings gave him a smile he could only describe as cat catching canary. “I think Lucky needs to see you. Loose the doe eyes, it’s getting creepy.”

“Yeah buddy, I can catch on pretty quick.” He fumbled for what to say, and settled on “Bluegrass, doll, you look stunning this fine morning. Care for a swig of Kentucky’s finest?” He slurred, She sauntered up to him and he could swear he felt the magic, until she snatched the bottle and promptly tipped it out onto the ground. “Hey, woah! Easy there Kentucky, that was a bottle of Kentucky’s finest! that was a bottle of Eagle Rare!”

“No James, your looking at Kentucky’s finest, and you should know that I’m better than all the barrels in Frankfort. Buffalo Trace has nothing on me. Now, since you came in all washed up and wandering right smack dab before the deadline, I’m gonna be merciful, but the next time you pull this shit? Theres a bunk in Frankies bus with the minors that has your name on it. Are we clear? Brooklyn?” She had the empty bottle in her fist, her other arm draped under her breasts and she was jabbing him in the chest. He had never been more frightened and turned on in his entire life.

“Reading you loud and clear KY, I got the message.” He nodded backing away slightly.

“Good!” She smiled turning into an entirely different woman. One with sunshine and laughter in her soul, her perverbial horns retracting. She snatched his sunglasses right off of his aching eyes, and placed them on her face. Low blow, but not entirely unexpected. “Now that the princess is here, load up and let’s roll! First pit stop is in Vegas, so we got a lot of ground to cover!” She stuffed his empty bottle and his duffle back into his hands, and headed for her bus, he just caught the conversation as the Barton family began to load up watching her go by.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Lila?” Clint said helping his little girl put her little pink hello kitty duffle under the bus.

“Is Uncle Bucky in trouble?” She asked innocently looking back at Bucky, who gave her a little wave.

Clint turned to face him, chucking as he met his gaze, “Oh yeah honey, lots and lots of it.”

—————————————————————————

You loaded yourself onto the administrative bus, plopping yourself into the little booth right at the front near the head bus driver, Phil Colson.

“Hello Phil!” You smiled, opening your laptop and checking on your hotel reservation. The kind bus driver smiled and started up the bus. Next on we’re your bunk mates, Wanda, Vision, Bruce, and Peter. That left two bunks open for Tony and Pepper for when they joined you on the occasion.

“Well, I can proudly announce that Barnes’ military training has not gone to waste, even sloppy drunk he knows how to pack his essentials!” Wanda’s beautiful soothing voice waltzes its way into your ears as she and Vision loaded themselves onto the bus. “He’s got his tooth brush and everything! It’s a miracle!”

You nodded at that eyes still focused on checking your route’s traffic and totaling how much it would cost you for a late check in if nessicary. “Good, he can be a functioning adult when he wants to be!”

“The widows are settled onto their bus, everyone’s got what they need. Carol said she could do with some more angry Lucky, she missed you apparently” Bruce sighed plopping down next to you silently checking over your figures.

“I’ve got everything packed so that it should only take the lighting crew and I two hours to shore up, which puts my productivity up by 30%” Vision shrugged putting his arm back around his beautiful wife.

“And I can move heavy things and take good photos. Also, I fixed that stage piece you were worried about and it is no longer does the rocky thingy.” Peter grinned giving you finger guns.

“Ugh, I love the sound of efficiency!” You sigh, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you throw your stuff in the bunk closest to the shower. “Thank you all for agreeing to take this on with me, I wanted you because you’re my A-team, and I knew that I couldn’t do this without you... plus I knew it would look fantastic on your resumes.” The crew in your bus gave a here here for that statement.

“So, Barnes. How do you plan to tackle that battle?” Peter said plopping down on top of Wanda and Vision as if they were just two decorative pillows. “He’s gotta strong will and a heady brooding nature, rough shit I tell yah.”

“Not to mention the fact that he’s incredibly handsome,” Wanda said pushing Peter to the floor, “We know you’re a pushover for that type!”

“Well lady and gentlemen, I plan to kick his ass into shape. Good looks and broody behavior be damned!” You huff.

“I may point out, that is not exactly a plan darling.” Vision says sympathetically patting you on the head as he carries his and Wanda’s things to the back of the bus.

“Well Viz, darling I am well aware of that. I have a plan. He’s gonna have to sober up. This behavior isn’t normal for him, his band mates and Tony have made that clear, he’s on the string for some girl that couldn’t have given less of a shit about him, so he’s all fucked in the head. MY job, is going to be reminding him he’s a goddamn rock star, who doesn’t need a bitch like that to make him happy!” You gesticulate as you unpack the supplies you’d need for a shower. “Then, all should be well with the world again, and I can go back to managing tours that don’t make me want to kill myself.”

——————————————————————————

“Say Stevie, that uh, that Kentucky sure is one tough dame right?” Bucky say’s as he charges shirts, “gotta lot of spunk?”

“Yeah Buck, she’s a real hot head when she wants to be, but she’s fantastic at this. I’ve not seen a better organized tour in my life!” He hears his best friend laugh from the front.

“Not to mention,” Sam started from his position on the couch, “she’s one hot mama, veeeeeery fine. You can tell she knows it too. I wonder if she likes dark chocolate, I think I should find out.”

Bucky felt anger deep in his gut at Sam’s teasing, but for the life of him he can’t figure out why. He dosent need another relationship, hell, dosent want one. That only leads to broken hearts and empty bottles... broken hearts and empty bottles... a little cliche but he could make it work. He’d write it down later. Right now, his sole purpose was intel. Gathering as much info on Kentucky as he could.

“Gotta make sure she’s not already tied up Sammy boy!” He laughed, “besides, I think she likes Seargents.” He winked.

“Well if it’s information on the lady Kentucky you want, I’ve got you covered.” The big braun-y security guy Thor chuckled, “she’s single as it comes, bad break up with some hot douche bag in some other band. Wasn’t pretty that breakup, I tell yah. Frankie and I had to beat the guys face in to get him off her door step, she started road managing in order to get away from him, being constantly on the move made her a moving target, it worked better that way.”

“Sheesh, any ideas on that band name? I’d hate to bump into them sometime.” Bucky shook his head, “she sounds like a tough lady.”

“Oh she is,” Thor chuckled, “got some rough and tumble to her, she’s good at what she does. Hydra? I think that’s the name at least.”

“Sheesh,” Steve muttered, “She messes around with hard hitters huh? Hydra is huge on the pop punk charts, they’re not topping out on the hot 100 or anything, but they pull a decent crowd for sure.”

“Yeah, this isn’t the first time I’ve heard stories about them being absolute dicks either,” said Sam, “poor thing. I hate that for her.”

“She’s a good lady, really, she’s always so kind, goes out of her way to learn names and remember important dates, never afraid to pitch in where she’s needed. You guys are lucky to have her for this tour.” Thor nods, putting his things away and laying down in his bunk.

“Yeah, very lucky.” Bucky nods, daydreaming about a woman he just met. This was gonna be a long tour.

——————————————————————————

Their first stop was in Nevada. Los Vegas, baby. The first show of the tour was at the colosseum at Ceaser’s palace. This meant discounted hotel rooms, larger merch sales, and quite a bit of press was involved, but you were ready to take on the challenge. You arrived in Los Vegas around 6am, all of the bands stumbling off their respective busses and making their way towards the resteraunts in the hotel. You and Bruce headed off to snag hotel keys, and settle the bands into place. Wanda, Vis, and Peter, headed with the rest of the crew and the equipment trucks to the Venue for set up.

“Alright Bruce, you get the Widows settled in their rooms, I’ll take care of the boys. Tell the girls their press is at 10 and their rehearsal will be at noon, they are to be at the venue no later than 9:15. They will arrive and go straight to Wanda, who has outfit options, and makeup. They have a lunch break at 2:00, and they need to be at the venue by 5:00 for their sound check at 5:30, curtain is at 7:30.” You rattled off handing Bruce back stage passes and a few printed copies of tonight’s schedule. “I’ll meet you outside in twenty to send the busses to the venue.” Bruce gave you a tiny salute and you wandered off to find the Commandos. You found them sitting in a resteraunt, a waiter bringing them their drinks. You noticed Bucky had a screwdriver, now that just wouldn’t do. You snatched the glass from him right as the waiter was about to put it in his hand, slamming it back in one go.

“Woohoo! Good morning Kentucky!” Clint laughed clapping with Steve and Sam, who were pointing at a dumb struck Bucky.

“Damn, sugar! I didn’t know you had it in you this early!” Sam laughed.

“We,” you said gesturing between Bucky and yourself, “will take water and a coffee.” You said to the waiter with a wink. “Good morning boys! We’re in for a good one today! Starting off at the colosseum is a great first gig! Now I hate to be a downer, but unfortunately, I gotta lay down the law. This tour will have a no show day drinking policy. Zero tolerance, breaking this rule leads to a prohibition to the breakers caffeine supply, and lands you in a bunk in Frankies bus with the newbies. The only exceptions are exactly one pre show shot and or beer for last minute jitters, or a celebratory toast. Any other hard day drinking will lead to repricutions. Rule number two, I run a right ship, I do not appreciate tardiness. I went easy on you the first day, but here on in, if you are late by more than ten minutes, I will assume you’re dead and send the cops to come find you. Very loud, very messy, and definitely will make the news. So, do I make myself clear?” You looked around and met their gazes everyone seemed to be okay with these rules, except Bucky.

“What the hell lucky? Am I some kinda child or something? No drinking? No tardiness? Am I a high schooler? Jesus, you gotta pair on you if you think that I, a grown ass man would ev-“ your food came about five words into his little tirade, and as soon as the waiter left your food, you shoved a roll in Bucky’s mouth.

“Stuff it Brooklyn, we wouldn’t fuckin NEED these rules if you could get your ass together for five minutes to see what you’re doing! Your drunkenness has made you sloppy, you’re late on your due dates, your waisting Tony’s time and money on your pouty bullshit, and your friends are worried about you. So yes, we’re gonna have rules, they will have consequences, and I’ll beat your ass myself if you show the inability to get it together!” You rant jabbing your finger into his chest to get your point across. “Now, eat your waffles, here’s your schedules, and if you are not showered and decently dressed at the colosseum by 10 am sharp, so help me God I’ll call the cops.” With that you gathered your coffe and your purse and stalked away. Handing Steve they’re schedules, passes, and hotel keys as you went. It was gonna be a long night, you could feel it.

“Did anyone else find that extremely sexy?” Sam asked, and by god Bucky couldn’t help it, he nodded in agreement.

—————————————————————————

Steve and Bucky followed eachother up to their floor of the hotel, crew, secrity, and bands took up the entire fifth floor. Later tonight, when everyone actually got to unload after the show, It would be a real party, people leaving their doors open, coolers of beer, goods and services being exchanged, instruments and duffle bags and food being passed from room to room, it was Bucky’s personal favorite part of the evening.

Right now, it was sad and empty. So, he showered, and he went to sleep. At approximately 10:15 am, Bucky was rudely awakened by a pounding on his door. He looked at the time and he jumped to his feet so fast he almost broke his neck tripping on his sheets. Kentucky was gonna kill him. He just hoped to God whoever was outside his door didn’t drag him out of the hotel in handcuffs.

“Ok Bucky, time to shine!” He muttered to himself and threw open the door. Outside was quite possibly the largest man he’s ever seen, and he was no pipsqueak himself, he towered over bucky by at least a foot, and his biceps were roughly the size of his head. “Hello there, seeing as you’re not in a police uniform, you must be Frankie.” The big man grunted his assent. “Ok then, may we g-“

“Listen here pretty boy, I don’t care if your famous, you hurt Kentucky? I hurt you. Understood?” His voice felt like a blast of attic wind. It made Bucky shiver. Where was this coming from? How would he hurt Kentucky, it’s not like she would ever date him, he couldn’t even get a woman to Mary him, let alone bag an absolute catch like Lucky.

“Yes sir, won’t happen again.” Bucky saluted like he was still in the service then realized what he was doing and always my scratched his head. “Can we?” He pointed at the door, hoping against all odds to escape this absolute shit show of a conversation.

“By the way kid? You’re lucky she didn’t send the cops.”

——————————————————————————

At the colosseum, Y/N was pracitcaply putting a hole in the rug of their dressing rooms, while the various other band mates who bothered to show up on time, sat there bored out of their minds.

“I’m gonna kill him,” you muttered, biting at your bottom lip.

“No your not mama,” Natasha laughed from the couch, “You think he’s sexy, you don’t burn fine art.”

“Dammit, you’re right.” You sighed throwing your hands in the air and plopping dow on top of her and Peggy who were sitting next to eachother looking at dress designs Wanda sent them for SNL next month.

“I like the black one Nat, the red detailing is classy and fun.” You mutter, Peggy nods in agreement.

“I like Wanda’s idea of us all having black dresses with different colors, we could do it 1950’s style and put our hair up? I think it would look really cool. Fits the vibe of our song choice.” Peggy says casually flipping through the designs.

“Carol and I respectfully request to wear suits if that’s ok?” MJ pipes up, “I think two and two will look cool.” She shrugs, I’ll do the regular hair and makeup though.”

“Can I get a broad brim mobster hat?” Carol asks popping up from her place on the floor beside MJ’s chair.

“Yes, I like this idea. SNL will like it too I bet.” Wanda nodded. “If they let Megan and Billie do what they want, I’m guessing your performance will be just as accepted. That and it can be in black and white. Rami Malik is also the perfect host for that. I’ll pitch it to their team.”

“How about you boys, any ideas? You’re the week after.” Wanda said looking towards the Comandos who had already made it.

“I like the Jailhouse rock Idea! I think we sh-” Just then, Frankie walked in holding James by the collar.

“Put him down Frankie,” you sigh “he’s an ass, but we need him.” After Frankie let him go, he brushed himself off and grinned at you sheepishly. “You better have a damn good explanation for this.” You grind out.

“Over slept?”

“Im gonna kill him”

——————————————————————————

All in all, the show went off without a hitch, the bands both sailed through their songs beautifully, and earned themselves an encore. However, on the last encore of the night, Bucky made things a little more interesting.

“This last one, goes out for a little special someone!” When he said that, you could swear he winked at you.

“Hey hey mama said the way you move” when he held out that move? You could feel your soul shake. He was going it slow, taking the opening slow to really get the crowd worked up. It was like he was expressly trying to lock eyes with you, seat his irises into your soul. “Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove.” Then when the first two lines were done and they kicked into tempo, you remembered where you were, what you were doing, and you let the song echo behind you, as you went to help Wanda pack up the dressing room.

What was that look? What game was he playing at? He couldn’t want to mess around with you, you were a nobody. He was James Barnes, lead singer of one of the biggest bands of the decade, he had no interest in you. You were a road manager, a stick in the mud, a hard headed know it all. He dosent know a thing about you and dosent want you. You were just getting caught up in the music right?

[masquerade-story]

Chapter 4 - Memories

Lillian awoke late into the evening, after everyone collectively agreed to take a nap and process everything Crystal told them. Her throat was dry and scratchy, so she carefully rolled out of bed to avoid disturbing Grey, who'd crawled into her bed for comfort like he always did when he was upset, and padded quietly out of the bedroom.

Since there wasn't going to be any sort of heating bill, they'd left the mysteriously working heater on to combat the unexpectedly cold weather. Lillian stopped by a window to peek outside, and was momentarily startled when she could pick out individual leaves on distant trees.

"Right, our vision got all fancy." Lillian laughed softly at herself, turning her gaze from the trees to the starry sky.

An unfamiliar sky.

Three moons scattered across the horizon, a couple of planets close enough for their rings to be distinct to the naked eye, and a brilliant aurora ribbon streaming across more stars than Lillian ever remembered seeing when she looked up back on Earth.

"There's no North Star," she whispered to herself, her warm breath briefly melting some frost on the window glass. "Different constellations, different horoscopes... I wonder how long a year is here? Or a season? Can we... Even communicate with people to find out?"

An oppressive sense of loneliness settled in her chest. Lillian blinked back a few tears and turned away from the window, resuming her earlier mission of a glass of juice. She slipped downstairs into the kitchen, drank an entire glass, and went to bring her second cup upstairs in case she woke up again, when a soft sound caused her to pause mid-step toward the stairs.

Sobbing. Wretched, mournful sobbing, from the living room which currently had no light on.

Lillian felt her heart clench in sympathy, and changed route.

Rayne sat on the couch, curled into the corner with a blanket around her shoulders and a phone in her hands. She glanced up when Lillian approached, hurriedly dashing her tears with the corner of the blanket. "H-hey, what's up?"

Lillian had the sense to put her juice cup down on an end table before sitting heavily on the couch, encroaching on Rayne's personal space with reckless abandon. "I was gonna ask you the same thing. Why are you down here alone in the dark?"

"Oh, I..." Rayne muttered, her gaze flicking back to the phone. Lillian glanced down, and saw a photo of Rayne and her boyfriend trying on mouse hats during their trip to Disneyworld. His expression was exasperated, but his affectionate gaze was fixed on Rayne's laughing face.

Rayne locked her screen and set the phone down, but it was too late and she knew it. She retreated further into the warmth of her blanket, faking a shiver to cover the fact she was trying to hide her face.

Neither Rayne nor Crystal appreciated it when other people saw them cry, but Lillian knew that it was sometimes exactly what someone needed, whether they wanted it or not. So she leaned on Rayne's shoulder, resting a gentle hand on the other woman's knee.

"You know," Lillian said softly, closing her eyes. "There's three moons."

Rayne was quiet for a moment. Then she sniffled, before whispering: "Really?"

"Yeah. And some ringed planets, and an aurora. Wanna see?"

The bundle of blanket shook in a hesitant nod, and both Lillian and Rayne moved to sit on the window seat overlooking the front yard, keeping throw pillows between them and the frozen glass to seal in their bodily warmth.

Silence stretched on between them as they stared together at the foreign night sky. Whenever Rayne gave a soft cry or pained whimper, Lillian reached over to squeeze her hand without turning to look at her, giving the other woman a measure of privacy while still providing comfort until she was ready to talk.

"It's unfair," Rayne whispered finally, reaching out of the blanket to draw a frowning face on the frosty glass.

Lillian nodded. "It ate our bonds so they all forgot us, but we still have to remember them? It's totally unfair."

"Actually..." Rayne looked over, locking gazes with Lillian, her dark brow furrowed. "That's the thing. Lils, do you remember your parents?"

"Of course. Robin and Larry-"

"Their faces, Lils."

Lillian opened her mouth, then immediately shut it. Her curious expression turned to one of realization, then panic suffused with horror. "No, I... What...?"

"I don't remember his face if I'm not looking at the photo," Rayne said, crossing her arms tightly under the blanket. "I don't remember his voice anymore. I did at first, but... Every passing moment, it's harder to remember the times we shared. The bad, the good. Even while looking at the photos! And I just... I felt like I should have a good cry, while I still felt enough lingering emotion for him to do it."

Lillian felt as though her heart was caught in her throat. She swallowed, swallowed again, then wheezed as she tried to remember how to breathe. Rayne hurriedly wrapped her arms around Lillian's shoulder, squeezing tight in a hug that contained all her comfort and sympathy.

"We'll do everything we can to remember, them, okay?" Rayne whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. "Let's go wake Grey and Crystal, then we can all start writing stuff down. Alright?"

Nodding, Lillian clung desperately to Rayne's hand as they both hurried upstairs, rolling their respective siblings out of bed for an emergency meeting. Grey's horror was contrasted starkly by Crystal's numb nodding, as she apologized for not realizing it would happen. They dug into the boxes of personal belongings, finding some notebooks and pens, and sat together in the master bedrooms writing down everything they remembered about Earth and their loved ones until well into the next morning.

"On the one hand it's a mercy," Grey said sleepily, as he doodled another picture of his parents in the margins of his notebook. "So we won't be grieving our loss very long, I guess? But it still feels..."

"Wrong," Lillian mumbled, looking through her phone for a picture of her cat to use as a reference.

"It's not like the time was wasted," Rayne said, adding another bullet point to the list she was writing. "Our experiences shaped who we are whether we remember them or not. It does feel pretty crappy, though..."

"I wonder, will they forget us like this?" Lillian asked, unable to stop the words in her heart from escaping. Her hand paused above the page, the pen in her hand shaking violently. "Will they just... Slowly forget us? Or was it sudden and merciful? Because this... This is cruel."

"Cruelty implies intention," Crystal said softly, her voice shaking almost as much as Lillian's pen. "That... Thing. The Eater. It didn't have any malice, it was just hungry. But I dunno if that makes things better or worse..."

"I dunno man, you ever seen a cat catching prey? Pretty sure eating something alive has some inherent malice in it." Grey grumbled, trying to force his chicken scratch handwriting into something legible.

Crystal, who'd already given up on her own handwriting and embraced the chaotic glyphic nature of her lettering, nodded sagely in agreement. "That's true. I got the impression the Eater wasn't exactly sentient or sapient though. More like a force than a being, if that makes sense? Or maybe I just can't conceive of it, since that thing exists outside our dimensions of understanding."

"You say that so easily, do you even know how wild that whole statement was?"

"Do you even know how wild this whole situation is?"

"Look, we've passed absurdity at this point. Now I'm just down with whatever weirdness comes our way."

"We don't have to pay bills anymore," Rayne said slowly, staring at her paper. Her handwriting was the neatest by far, and she'd finished writing down most important events she could think of, but she kept having a nagging feeling she'd left something out so she kept reading the pages over and over hoping to trigger another memory. "We won't have to buy groceries unless there's things we want specifically that wasn't in our house to begin with. The electricity will never go out, damage to the property will be repaired, and even though we're in a new world with unknown levels of development and technology, we will never have to worry about toilet paper. In exchange for a very comfortable standard of living, we lost our connection to our home and families."

"Personally speaking I think it's fair," Crystal said with a scoff. "But that's because our family sucks so I'll be glad to forget them. All my most important people are here with me! I know Robin and Larry will take good care of all our cats, my exes all sucked, and my other friends will get along just fine without me. I don't have anyone to worry about, just regrets for stuff I never got to do. Like visiting the Grand Canyon, or going on a long cruise."

"I wanted to hike around Europe someday..." Rayne said wistfully.

"I wanted to vacation in the tropics. Or maybe Spain? For like, two years. With some hot guys and infinite fruity alcohols." Grey said, staring off into space with a dreamy look in his eyes.

"I wanted to be famous enough for us to visit the space station," Lillian sighed. Grey snorted, and everyone started laughing in a combination of absurdity and delirium from lack of sleep. They started listing everything they could think of, starting with shopping sprees and game show appearances, and ending with complex bank and casino heists to dismantle capitalism.

When Crystal started dozing off while sitting up, they all agreed to get some sleep for real. The notebooks were stacked lovingly on one of the end tables, which reminded Lillian to run downstairs and chug her long-forgotten cup of juice in the living room before trudging back upstairs into bed.

------

"We can't just stay in the house forever, right?" Grey muttered as he stared out the living room window later that night, curled up on the window seat with his knees hugged to his chest.

"Technically we could," Rayne said, drumming her fingers against the recliner arm as she waited for her laptop to boot. "Infinite food and basic supplies, stuff for our hobbies... We have our instruments, we have our computers and game consoles and several external drives worth of movies and books and music since you and Crystal obsessively insist on collecting or hoarding anything of interest for later use."

"Hey, hey." Grey wagged a finger and feigned an offended scowl. "Look at our situation. How bored would we be if the two of us didn't hoard everything? In fact, maybe our desire to hoard entertainment was preparing for this day!"

"Damn psychics always preparing for everything they couldn't possibly know about," Rayne muttered rebelliously, and Crystal laughed. She'd stretched out on half of the corner couch taking up an entire section of the living room by itself, looking cozy with a pile of blankets and her special edition Switch.

"It's only gonna get worse from here, Ray."

"Open your town, I need to sell my oranges," Lillian interrupted, nudging Crystal's feet from her spot on the other side of the corner couch.

"Alright, lemme finish making this waterfall first."

"Your villagers are never gonna have scurvy again for like, three generations."

"That many oranges? Isn't that a bit overkill?"

"If they don't want an entire island nation's agricultural sector's worth of citrus they should learn to adjust their economy for inflation."

"You know the shop is run by literal children, right?"

"It's good to learn early that nepotism leads to ruin. The business world is harsh and so am I."

Rayne chuckled at the sound of Lillian's low, malicious cackling, but her expression swiftly turned serious. "What do you mean it's gonna get worse, Coco?"

"All four of us have abilities for real, right? Being in this world is gonna make them grow exponentially, whether we try to train them or not. New ones will pop up too, or existing ones will change a little as they grow. Okay Lils, gate's open." Crystal spoke nonchalantly, but every word drained a bit more color from Rayne's face. Meanwhile, Grey turned away from the window with an excited glint in his eyes.

"So psychic powers can get real strong in this world?"

"Yeah. The impression I got when we were coming over was... Magic exists here, and it's something anyone can learn to use with practice. But abilities like ours, psychic powers? Those you have to be born with, and it's rare. That's about as much as I know about it though," Crystal sighed and shrugged.

"Can you list everything you know about our situation?" Rayne said, opening a new document on her computer and typing away with her nose inches from the laptop screen. "I wanna write it all down. I got the thing about our bonds and memories, and the house being indestructible-"

"It's not indestructible, just protected." Crystal seemed startled as soon as the words left her mouth, as though the information was somehow new. She furrowed her brow, nose wrinkling as she carefully examined her thought process. "I see, protected... Like a barrier, almost? It'll always rebuild itself and restock supplies overnight no matter what happens, even if it's all burnt to ash, but the property itself is also shielded unless we draw attention from a big threat."

"A big threat? Like what?"

"I don't know. Big animals like those Nessies on the beach yesterday. Or monsters like the Eater, maybe?"

"Monsters?!" Lillian sat up straight, pulling her feet under her body. "There's monsters!?"

"There's magic, why wouldn't there be monsters too?" Grey pointed out, but his twin just stuck her tongue out at him.

"It's just an assumption," Crystal hurriedly explained. "For my power to work, I'd have to come into contact with stuff related to what I want to know about in order to get more information, I can't just pull stuff out of the ether whenever I have questions!"

"Then how do you know what you know already?"

"Well, we were in contact with the house. The house is made with really powerful magic, so I learned magic exists, and that it was used to make the house echo and ensure our supplies remain the same. I think I also learned about the barrier then, but didn't think about it or really absorb the info cuz I was thinking about other things, so it only just popped up." Crystal shrugged and let out a half-hearted laugh.

"What about the Eater?"

"The Eater was menacing us directly and I looked at it so I was able to get some info on it and the bond-eating shenanigan, but not much else because it's way stronger than me, I think? And my power activated as soon as we started our... Transfer, I guess? Away from Earth. And you all were in the room with me, so I knew you all had powers as well as myself, got the basic gist of how mine work, and that we'd all get much stronger whether we wanted to or not. That's really about it for what I know. I told you it wasn't much."

"Why the house though?" Rayne muttered. "It just wanted to eat our bonds and it did that. So why did it drop us on another planet, and why give us this cushy house echo thing?"

Crystal shrugged again. "I honestly have no idea. I think I could know if I got a lot stronger, but... That won't be any time soon. I can tell there's a reason, though. I just dunno what."

"Maybe it's compensation?" Grey said, his expression hopeful.

"Or bait, like a beacon, so it can find us again..." Lillian whispered with a shiver, and everyone's faces fell. Seeing their reactions, she hurriedly straightened her spine and forced a smile to her face. "But it didn't hurt us, and we're all still together. Imagine if we'd been flung to different planets instead of staying together!"

"That'd really suck," Grey agreed. "So like, Crystal, your power activates if you come into contact with stuff?"

"I think so. I'd have to test it to get the hang of how things work, precisely."

Grey chuckled, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. His expression made the three women exchange worried glances, especially once he started rubbing his hands together like a two-bit cartoon villain. "Looks like we got ourselves an excuse to head to that town for some reconnaissance!"

"In the snow?" Rayne asked, raising her eyebrows.

"With only summer clothes in our wardrobes," Crystal pointed out.

"We wore hiking boots for the walk up here so that'd be fine, but the warmest clothes we have right now are..." Lillian trailed off, then suddenly doubled over and started giggling.

Realization dawned on the others soon after, and Rayne covered her face with her hands. "Oh no."

"Oh yes!" Grey hissed, pumping his fist into the air. "That'll make one heck of an entrance, wouldn't it?"

"Our music video costumes? In PUBLIC!?" Rayne wailed while the others laughed.

"That might not be what we want to do though," Crystal said after her moment of laughter had subsided. "We don't know what kind of world this is. If they'll be friendly to strangers, especially ones who can't speak their language - or any language on this world. They won't know English, you know."

"But do we really have a choice?" Lillian asked, putting down her console and staring up at the ceiling. "We don't know anything about this world. About magic, except that it exists. About the people. And hiding here in our safe cozy house will be fine short term, but what about long term? Are we gonna spend our whole lives holed up in here?"

"I, for one, embrace the forest witch hermit lifestyle," Grey said. "And I know Crystal does too."

"Sure do. Cottage life."

Rayne sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't wanna be caught completely off guard by whatever nonsense comes our way. We know it's winter, but we don't know what the other seasons are like yet. What if they have a raining magma and diamonds from the sky season? We can't apply Earth logic here! Or if we can, we don't know to what extent! There were dinosaurs on the beach!"

"That's a fair point. There were indeed dinosaurs on the beach. Counter points?"

"There were dinosaurs on the beach."

"A fair counter point as well. I do want to see the dinosaurs up close."

"From a safe distance."

"Up close from a safe distance, of course."

"Plus, we don't know what's gonna happen with our powers. You said they'll get stronger, what does that mean?"

"I don't know. More powers will manifest, I think? And the ones we have already will be more potent. But I don't know how potent, or what exactly will happen."

"Exactly! You psychically downloaded only a little info about our situation and it gave you a nasty seizure! Right?"

"Pretty much."

"So what if something worse happens? A big huge infodump? If you can't control your powers, or shut it off when needed or whatever, what if..." Rayne's shoulders sagged.

"What if I have a big seizure every time I use my powers now?" Crystal finished, a wry smile on her face. "Yeah, I was wondering about that too. Honestly, everything about our situation has me so terrified I've circled back around to just feeling numb about it all."

"That's a hell of a mood," Grey sighed, stretching out on the window seat and propping his feet up against the wall. "Everything's happening so much, am I right? It's hard to be freaked out about everything simultaneously. It's easier to just phase out of existence, mentally speaking."

"I... Have an idea."

Everyone turned to look at Lillian, who sat perched on the edge of the couch. She glanced at all their faces, then offered a shy smile.

"Well? What's your idea, sis?" Grey encouraged, when his sister kept fidgeting in place instead of finishing her thought.

"Well, those warmer clothes we have... They're our costumes, right? And Crystal said we dunno how people would react to that sort of outfit, or to strangers in general, but what if... I mean... We have our instruments? What if... We pretended to be minstrels?"

[scribbles97]

Left Behind - Chapter 38

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

Chapter 37

Read on Ao3

Leaning back in the desk chair Scott sighed to himself, he ran a hand through his hair as he looked to the family photo on the desk. Dad, Mom, and the five of them, all smiling happy, safe and healthy. 

A far cry from where they all were now. 

Two brothers were half way across the world with Hugh, investigating a sudden blackout of communication from their London agent and Grandmother. John was out on space junk duty. Leaving Alan the only brother safely accounted for, in his room partaking in some sort of gaming marathon. Mom was getting stronger by the day, awake for longer periods of time and finally able to at least eat and drink for herself. It seemed like some form of small mercy that her injuries from the explosion that had almost killed her were mostly healed. A broken leg only needing physiotherapy and surgical wounds that had long since scarred over low on their list of major injuries. 

Still, it didn’t mean he relished the idea of persuading her to go to the mainland for rehab. 

Mom wouldn’t want to be away from home for any longer than necessary. 

Not when she found out what Brains had told him about Dad. 

There was a signal, weak, scrambled, far from anything possibly decipherable. As far as they could find, there was no way to actually determine what it was or where it was from, not unless they got something better come through. They were still waiting for the Calypso to be in the right place, waiting and hoping beyond hope that the plan would work and they would get the signal they were all waiting for.

He wasn’t sure what any of them would do otherwise. 

“International Rescue, we have a situation.” Ridley hailed over the comm, “John’s picked up a Space Mine out there, can you get the disposal squad?”

He was already reaching out to make the call, “On it, is he in imminent danger?”

“Negative, the pod is small enough that it hasn’t locked onto him. He’s cleared the area of all major vessels so that’s not going to be an issue.”

He wanted to launch Thunderbird Three, set about getting involved in protecting his younger brother and diffusing the mine. Logic told him the ship was too big though, it was exactly the kind of target the mine was aimed at and would lock on to him in moments. 

“I won’t let him get into trouble Scott.” Ridley murmured, eyes flicking up to watch him, “You know I won’t.”

He did. Ridley was as stubborn as any of the rest of them, and as clever and quick to boot. Something in his stomach was unsettled though, restless like he should do something more than just call the bomb disposal team. 

Mom trusted them to manage in the field without her being there. He had to trust them too. 

“Keep in touch,” He murmured, “Tracy Island out.”

It only took a moment to get the disposal team en route, Little Lightning ready to launch as soon as the group arrived at the base. All Scott could do was watch and wait, listening into the comms between Ridley and John and trying to ignore just how relaxed they both sounded despite the obvious risk. 

“What’s going on?”

His eyes snapped away from the hologram monitoring Lightning’s progress to the woman stood in the door. 

“Mom!” He snapped standing and rushing to her side, “What are you doing up? How the hell did you make it up here?”

She shrugged but accepted his help down into the armchair in the corner of the room, “I needed to stretch my legs and see something other than those four walls.”

Scott could sympathise, none of them liked being in the infirmary. It was too enclosed and clinical in comparison to the space and fresh air of the rest of the Island. He knew from his own experience that any of them would escape the ward as soon as they felt capable of doing so, even if it wasn’t in their best interests. 

“Why didn’t you call me?” He frowned, crouching to take her hands lightly, “I would’ve come down.”

Her eyes were wandering back to the hologram, “What’s happening?”

He knew better than to try and brush her off, especially since she had found out that both John and Ridley were up on Five. It had been a conversation Scott had been avoiding, but in true fashion, Mom had taken the revelation in her stride with little more than a smile and a nod.

“John found a space mine, we’ve got bomb disposal on their way now.”

“Five’s pod is too small to register on its sensors.” She murmured, eyes still fixed on the projection, “He’ll be safe.”

Scott nodded, “Ridley’s keeping a close eye.”

He felt her eyes on him as she pulled her hand from his to brush his cheek, “And you’re sat watching?”

Lips pursing, he shrugged, “I’ve gotta trust them, haven’t I? At least I can hear what’s going on with them. I’ve still no idea what’s going on in London, I guess Hugh hasn’t called you either?”

Mom’s snort suggested she knew the exact thing he was feeling. As she shook her head she shifted slightly, her face twisting in discomfort. 

Finally stood in her shoes, as commander of a team and some sort of leader everyone else was looking to, he got it. All the fussing, all the hovering over comms, all the commands to back off when he didn’t want to, it all made sense to him.

“I’m proud of you Kid,” She murmured, eyes falling back on him, “I get none of this could have been easy for you, but you’ve stepped up.”

He could only shrug in response, “I screwed up at first. I let Virgil get hurt and then I got myself hurt.”

Mom shook her head at him, smiling as she did, “You both lived. I read the reports, yes it wasn’t ideal. Yes Virgil’s injury could have been avoided, but you learned from it. As for getting irradiated, that was just you being you kid, stubborn and determined and absolutely convinced that your way is the right way. You’d have done the same even with me lecturing you down the comm.”

Scott snorted, “I’ve learnt otherwise since then.”

“Good, because your father never did.”

He had to smile at the comment, knowing that Dad’s stubbornness had been the source of plenty of arguments over the years. 

“I had to inherit something from you.” 

She nodded, “You are your father's son.”

Looking down, he sighed, “Brains picked up a signal.”

“I heard. You and Hugh thought I was asleep. I thought you would have known better.”

Rolling his eyes at the comment, he shook his head. Yes, he should have known better. How many times had he earwigged on conversations himself without others noticing?

“It could be him.”

Her sigh was soft as her hand squeezed his, so much lighter than he was used to from her, “It could be a lot of things.”

Swallowing, he shook his head, “It’s got to be Dad. We can’t stop hoping for him now.”

“We’re Tracy’s, we never stop hoping.” Mom murmured, “But it doesn’t do any harm to be realistic at the same time.”

She smiled as she nudged him, “For example, I hope you’ll take me to sit out by the pool. Realistically, I know you’re going to send me back to bed.”

Laughing, Scott shook his head, “I hope you’ll be sensible and go for physio on the mainland, realistically I know it’s going to take a lot more persuasion.”

He hated how tired she looked when her smile fell from her face as she shook her head and brushed his hair back again, “No. I’m sensible enough to know I need it, that’s why I need your help getting outside.”

Frowning at her, he tilted his head, “Really? So that’s it? I can get you on the next flight out there?”

The smile was back in an instant, a laugh on her lips as she lightly whacked his shoulder, “I have a condition though.”

Raising an eyebrow he sat back on his haunches, suspicion couldn’t help but leak into his voice as he watched her, “I’m listening?”

“Come with me and take a break from things. Just for a couple of days, let me make things up to you.”

He had to frown, not understanding what there possibly could be to make up for. Kneeling forward he shook his head at her, confusion masking his features as he locked eyes with her.

“Wha--”

“The last thing I remember is thinking that you’d be okay for a few days,” She shrugged, the weight of the memory clearly heavy on her shoulders and in her eyes, “I told myself that you could cope and that you’d understand.”

“And I did -- I do!” he told her without hesitation, “Mom what happened wasn’t your fault! It was a shock to us all and yeah it scared me for a bit. You don’t need to apologise for leaving me in charge.”

He hadn’t even thought too much about it once it had happened. It had seemed natural to step in and lead in the way Mom and Dad always had done. 

“And no going to try and force memories either.” He started again, remembering what Eli had told them when she had first woken, “You can’t pressure yourself on this.”

It wasn’t the look on her face that had him thinking what a hypocrite he was. Scott knew exactly what he would be trying to do were the situation reversed. 

Mom sighed as she shook her head, running her hand through the hair that had barely begun to regrow, “I know that something happened Scott. I just… I have no idea other than what you guys have told me about Gaat being here on the island and the ship--”

“Hey,” He cut her off squeezing her shoulder, “It’s okay Mom, just give it some time. That’s all you need, just a bit of time and a change of scene.” he forced a smile as he took her hand from her hair, “Put it out of your head and start thinking about which restaurant you’re taking me for dinner at, okay?”

She smiled and nodded, squeezing his hand with a slight sigh, “Okay.”

Shifting, he stood, knowing from years of watching his father just how to distract her, “How long do you think we’ve got before Grandma gets back?”

Her smile widened to a grin as she let him take her weight as she stood, “Long enough to get outside?”

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he nodded, “Let’s find out.”

[kpop-bg-roleplay]

(I've decided to send all of our replies in one here for an overview so far! The rest of our rp is going through asks!)

Finding the same nine people you were joking around during the day, carrying weaponry and dealing with drugs in a dimly lit alley way was more than a shock to your system. The first to acknowledge your presence was Hyerin, and holy hell did her expression carry a complete 180' from how she looked that morning. Was this really the same person? "Elise, what are you doing snooping around? The night is a dangerous place."

-----

"I was about to go home actually", I answered her while holding my grocery bag slightly tighter in my hands at the scene in front of me. "What did you do to those people?", I asked the whole as my body language showed tensed up shoulders, ragged breath, pupils widened and having an even more paled up face than usually. The scene in front of me could be out of a crime scene. Bodies on the ground and only the guys I've called my so called friends standing in the middle of it.

------

All she did was look at Hongjoong, who immediately caught onto what she was thinking about and ordered the others to get back in the group car. Joining his right-hand, Hongjoong rolled his eyes, "None of your business, unless you'd rather get scarred."

------

"Alright. I've never seen anything", I asked him as I morphed my face completely blank despite my stiff posture before looking behind me briefly and then making my way, passing the car while only shaking my head in dissappointment at Hyerin.

------

They had no other business that night, and returned to the car before Seonghwa drove back to the cafe. Sighing as they all walked inside, Yunho  needed very little incentive to gather intel on you; you had found them out - in a way - after all.

------

"I'm home", I called out and walking inside my house to sort my groceries inside the fridge. I didn't hear anything besides the Amazon Echo greeting me back. Walking inside the living room to turn the lights on, with a beer glass in my hand I then went ahead to recall the memories of what happened a few hours ago. The bodies on the ground, Hyerin and the others being completely different from how I know them and knowing now that they're somehow involved in something criminal, I've decided to stay away from them as good as possible.

------

Finding your location, then everything else about you was easy. Yunho scoffed as he made his way through your systems, who actually kept Echoes? Especially when they're such easy targets. Yeosang couldn't have agreed more as he rerouted through the smart devices in your home, the data falling in his lap like candy. Meanwhile, Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Hyerin were in the leader's office discussing what they would do with you. Leave you and possibly risk having you reveal them to the police, or keep you under watch.

------

"And... another night alone with no friends to help me finish my food from yesterday", I sighed softly to myself as I looked at the time and walking upstairs to the attic. I opened the door to reveal hundreds rolls of paintings I've been doing in the past. When you walk upstairs, you can smell the plastic mixed in with a white substance called C17H21NO4 or for the Day to Day person between us, Cocaine. I use that particular powder in my paintings, hidden in the pigments and the paper that can be used to smoke it as a cigarette or joint. I've had some encounters indirectly with the dealers from BigHit and Pledis but had managed to keep my name clean up until now. I've started early with selling it in the black market as dupes for certain museums. The actual thieves swapped them out with mine and I can still see one of the not caught paintings in the next Art museum. Nobody has to know that unless they start to actually burn the paintings that most of these are priceless. I always have them in big jars that are labeled as Sugar and Flour, one being more intense than the other but the results are mostly the same.

The thing is, I started at the age of 15. I was stupid and unknowingly sold them online to finance my living expenses for some pocket money after my escape from the organization. Then I found out about it through an unknown source that works for those people and...here I am. Not even Hyerin knows about it, because I always lock the attic and most people wouldn't be assuming that there are illegal drug paintings in there in the first place anyways. She never seemed to be interested in it and asked me questions.

Here I am, making sure that my newest painting gets sold online as the address is always changing in alphabetical order. It can't be the same route as it's another drug dealers territory and he's a scary bulky man that I ALMOST broke his nose when we were talking the first time I've put it in there. I got away with a few bruises anyways, no big deal.

A few days since then passed after the encounter that they're in the mafia and I kept my distance with each member of Hyerins friend group. I went the other way when I heard familiar steps, excuse myself from attending classes and turning in my assignments online, and I ignored Hyerins texts and calls as good as I can. But...the Mafia people are persistent more than the scam callers or mild inconveniences on the street to make you donate to a charity.

I heard my bell ring one night on a Saturday, while I was finishing my painting for the night. I kept the door to my attic open and walking downstairs with my mask on before opening up. Well, it wasn't for sure the neighbors that got my packages or the delivery guy I've been waiting on for 20 minutes. It's them. And I immediately tried to close the door shut.

------

A week's worth of research, intelligence gathering and hacking on part of Yunho and Yeosang had paid off. And they weren't in the mood to be patient. In silent agreement, Seonghwa and Mingi kicked the door down together, the group walking in with a beyond intimidating presence. "Gather everything of value, I want to see this place ransacked, understand?" Hongjoong ordered, no room in his tone for debate. Hyerin seemed to have taken an interest in the jars, and began to walk towards you, "Interested in the world of narcotics, are we? How fascinating." Her words weren't scary on their own, but with a handgun in her hand and the more than evident danger she carried with her, Hyerin could induce a nightmarish fear in even the most hardened individuals.

------

"Do whatever you want, but if you want to take something... you have to pay for it first", I began saying and being to list all of the prices at each item they're holding, "You". I pointed at Mingi first who's holding my lamp, "I got it from Ikea for 25,99€ plus the light switch. You". I pointed to Hyerin as she's taking an interest in my jars of cocaine, "That includes highly concentrated cocaine and because it's opened it's going to be released in the air around us that will get us addicted. It's also 3000€ worth per kilograms. You." I then pointed at Yunho and Yeosang, "Individual paintings are worth 5000€ each, customized fakes are 10.000€ and up worth. The the ones you're holding are for my customers that pay lots of it and if you want to snatch it it's 40 Million€ worth. You". I pointed at San and Wooyoung carrying out my pigments, "I made these myself and they're mixed with the cocaine. I would say 500.000 in total and You."  I pointed at Hongjoong and Seonghwa that is taking a sit on my couch, "390€ and 5.99€ each of the pillows. And lastly, you." I looked over Jongho with a tired sigh, "Please don't raid my fridge...". I sighed softly before doing the math in my head, "That'll be 4.518.421,98€, please. I take checks too". And despite being terrified of every member of the Mafia people, I managed to sit down on the couch to cross my arms over my chest. Until I got a gun against my temple, which made me raise an eyebrow. My forehead started to sweat, my hands got clammy and my throat dried up immensely but I took a deep breath to calm myself down. "What are you going to do with me once you took everything out of my house and killed me? I mean, I didn't tell anyone about your hidden secret,Hyerin. I've lived my life in peace and didn't meddle in on your business. Don't you think that I deserve a different death than a gun against my head?", I began to speak slowly and looking at her direction with a small smile despite her glaring that already killed me, "I want to be killed in a different way, not like that"

------

Maybe the three eldest of Ateez had a twisted sense of mercy, or maybe they were interested, but once Hongjoong had processed how much money you could possibly bring in, he was at Herin's side, whispering in her ear. With an amused smirk, Hyerin put the gun back in the holster and chuckled, "Since my friend here is so~ interested in your works, Hongjoong thinks I should let you go." Her laugh was dangerous, as she called for the the others to bring the artworks to the van. Walking to you, Hongjoong crossed his arms, "You'll make us quite a bit of profit, you'll be pretty useful with us. " He remarked, voice twinged with interest. How much could you make them? Well, that was for them to find out. And it would cost you absolute loyalty to the mafia, and Seonghwa was still unsure whether you'd be a good fit.

------

"I choose death please", I replied blankly and sighing softly as I immediately shake my head at their direction and pointing at Hyerins gun, "Please shoot me, or roll me over with your car or burn me alive. Anything to satisfy your twisted fake conceptions of sadism."

------

A dark, slightly seductive (well, to the others, with you, who knew?) chuckle fell from the other female in the room, as she ran her tongue over her lips. Fuck, that was hot. Sadism? That would her be middle name. "Oh, oh~ I haven't been in the Crimson ward in so long~ maybe I should give our little friend here a personal tour?" She taunted, flicking your chin with the tip of her nails. "I agree with Hongjoong, let's take this one with us."

------

"Careful, I bite", I played along with with her and holding her cheek gently to kiss her forehead lightly, "But I would rather go ahead and begin suicide than leaving my house in the middle of the night. I can't leave physically this place, unless you want me to paint ugly paintings that aren't worth lots of money? I wonder what would happen if I just killed myself now?"

------

Okay, you were a brave one. Amused, Hyerin pulled you to your feet by you collar and whispered, her breath fanning your neck, "From now on, your life is in my hands, understand that? And don't you worry about the quality, you'll have a much better studio for your art." She saw something in you, and she wanted to harness that. The other members had long since emptied the apartment of your artworks, and they were in the van. They'd definitely sell to the highest bidder, and my God there were crooked curators who'd kill to get hands on your art.

------

"Let me say goodbye before I go", I requested to her and gently taking her hands off my collar to take a few steps back. "Would you be kind and wait outside? I won't take long", I added with a small smile that seemed almost too forced but I refused to cry infront of anyone

------

"Very well. Make it quick, and don't you dare think about running." Hyerin replied simply, her arms folded at her chest. Reading emotions was no effort, and it was clear you had no intention of streaking your face with tears in their presence. Walking by the door, she gave you one last look before she stepped outside, silently ordering the soldiers in the other cars to surround the building. Trying to flee wouldn't be a good idea, nor would breaking the miniscule amount of trust Hyerin had granted you.

------

Walking to my room that I usually put in my clothes in my luggage, I somehow played it off with no suspicion whatsoever for now. Taking out a piece of paper to then start writing a note to people who are going to be searching for me, at least I hoped that someone would care about me in my friend group. I sighed softly as I kept it short and simple to write down a simple note of me being taken away to a remote place for awhile. Wiping my tears away from my eyes as I hide the note in between the broken cracks of the house, I walked out of my room to do a last room tour to then join the group again. "My luggage, here's also my ID... I don't think I need it anymore from now on", I mumbled and avoiding their eyes as good as I can while handing my belongings to them. Walking over to the trunk, I willingly climb in to avoid talking to anyone as good as possible.

------

By the  time you stepped inside the trunk, the others had all piled in and were more than just a little impatient to get back. Taking the wheel, Seonghwa pressed his foot on the gas and soon you found yourself on the way back to the...cafe? The Twilight Cafe was probably the most innocent looking cafe on the street, and that's where they were returning to?

What?

Parking round the back, the members all filed out, entering the cafe and taking a seat. The three eldest remained, ordering the soldiers to bring your belongings into the main part of the building, and Hongjoong pulled you out of the trunk, a bored stare in his eyes.

"You'll be escorted to the living quarters. Don't cause any trouble; I'm not looking to get my gun out right now."

------

"Yes, Sir", I replied in a small whisper, following the people inside while keeping a straight face. I couldn't even hide my stiff posture, how I'm holding my hands behind my back as if I'm a prisoner and the bloodied underlip that I've bit on the whole time. It didn't help my situation at this point on how my stomach started to rumble loudly during the ride and how nauseated I'm feeling due to motion sickness.

I didn't look around the cafe at all, too scared to anger even more people and knowing that I'm not going to get my freedom back at all is the worst thing that could be happening to a human being. I know that I'm fucked at this point. Sometimes I wished to be not able to draw or paint, maybe then I'd be a normal person with a bright future.

'I want this nightmare to end already... please help me', I thought to myself almost desperately and started to pray in my head already. I'm thinking of ending my life at this point, ending the pain and start somewhere new. I think it's out of question right now and the pressure only pumped up my adrenaline rush in my system. My survival instincts are tingling and my heart beats even louder than a hammer against a wall.

The steps stopped ultimately, and I snapped out of my trance. It's a small room, enough to sleep in and change your clothes. Plus an attached bathroom, that didn't have security cameras. I'm slightly thankful for it at least, they give me the privacy to an extent. I didn't think much of what happened afterwards, nodding along the order for tomorrow and I was finally alone. Alone as I can get, at least.

So I quickly walked inside the bathroom to get everything out of my system and let my guard down. I cried in silence, hugging my knees and hiding behind my hands to muffle out my sobs. "I want to...go home", I whispered gently to myself and swallowing thickly, my body started to shake violently due to the pressure. I'm currently having a panic attack and I couldn't control it entirely. For some reason, I managed to pass out on the bed, shaking violently to the core and desperately trying to stay conscious to not cause even more problems.

------

Once you had been escorted from the initial cafe space, Hyerin immediately got up, getting her phone to discuss the latest findings with the financial heads at KQ -one of which she was a deputy to. There was much to discuss. And she'd definitely have to work overnight to draft up a reasonable report to KQ.

Among all the staff that walked around the complex, one stood out. Younger than Ateez's youngest, a high rank that almost rivalled Ateez themselves. With a tablet in hand, she walked through the dorms until she arrived at your rooms, a mutter of 'this wasn't used before...' coming from her.

She entered your room, making no announcement that she was entering. Maybe she had received similar training to the mafia members themselves, because her presence was palpable in the air. She tsked when she saw your condition, placing her tablet on the windowsill and walked over to you.

"Come to your senses, you've been brought here and you need to hurry up and accept it. Now what's you name? I have to provide KQ with accurate reports."

------

"Elise Liddell, Ma'am. I would appreciate it if I could use this night to eventually finish my mental break down until tomorrow morning", I answered her as quickly as possible, almost making it sound that I've rapped and my still shaking body leaning towards the cold wall. Wiping my tears away from my eyes, I avoided her gaze despite listening to her instructions intensely. "I'm just an ordinary artist, my paintings aren't real to be original.", I continued further, then quieting down as I don't want to spill out more information about myself and why I'm even doing my current profession as follows. 'Over my dead body, I'll be free in no time, even if I have to plot against them somehow', I thought, straightening my posture and eventually looking at the person nearby the windowsill. "What am I supposed to do tomorrow morning? I have to go to college and I don't want to be raising suspicion over my disappearence that soon", I asked her, coughing slightly as the crying made me thirsty, yet knowing that those bastards are going to love it to see me dying of dehydration soon.

------

The girl almost laughed. Almost. Scoffing, she tilted her head and gave you an overly sweet smile. But her eyes held something much, much more dangerous. "I'm not going to stop your precious little mental breakdown, go right ahead~."

The very idea that Ateez had someone as young as the girl in front of you working with them definitely seemed off.  Shouldn't she at least be in school? Reaching for her tablet, she was quiet for a moment before meeting your eyes.

"Ateez will take care of that. If you require something to drink I will put in a notice for the staff to provide a water dispenser."

------

"The absence of me entering college should be because I got either pregnant and have to leave due to my VISA or because I'm going back to Germany to fulfill one of the courses there. Any other reason isn't acceptable at all", I sighed softly and nodding slowly at the water dispenser for my casual use. "Anything else that I need to know?"

------

All she did was roll her eyes. It wasn't her problem, neither did she care. Whatever excuse they came up with would have to be the one you accepted. "You're not to enter Hongjoong, Seonghwa or Hyerin's office without letting either them or myself know beforehand." About to continue, her focus is drawn to someone calling her name.

"Minnie, you're needed in Seonghwa's office."

"Okay Kai, I'll be there."

At least you knew her name. Leaving the room and shutting the door behind her, you were left to your own devices, and thoughts, again.

------

'If she's going to tell them what excuse they should use in order to get me out of there, they also don't know who I'm close in contact too.', I thought to myself, drinking the water that Kai brought earlier to then walk to the bathroom and using some of the time to clean myself up as good as possible. The room had my luggage inside and instead of hyperventilating the whole time, I looked straight at the camera to flip off with my perfectly long nails to the person who watches me now. The ordering process of my stuff, made me calm down just a little bit, despite the shaky hands and the low blood pressure I'm feeling on my body the whole time. I sighed softly to myself, taking out my Notebook to write down the first informations about today.

----

Holy shit I forgot how long our responses were. Also I am practically gonna include eveny group I stan in this plot.

The rest of the complex was active, like a city that never slept. Throughout the night, footsteps rang through the building, staff - and some of Ateez themselves - working the night shift, keeping all operations stable. One location in particular that was lit up like daylight was the camera and intel rooms, where Yunho was asleep on a bed in the back, while Yeosang watched the moniters with his team, rolling his eyes as he checked the camera in your room. Thank God he’d only have to keep that camera installed for another few weeks. Watching new arrivals for their three month probation period was a pain, and more often than not he left the task to some unsuspecting staff. And that’s exactly what he did.

“Hey, Yang Jungwon, watch our new arrival, I need a smoke break.”

“Y-Yes Sir!”

[worldcakecakecake]

Feliciano and the King of Hearts

Chosen by the gods as the Queen of Hearts from the moment of birth,  we follow Feliciano’s story as he grows into royal life, learns to rule,  go against age old customs, and his relationship with his husband to  be, the King of Hearts.

Chapter 1 I  Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 IChapter 9I Chapter 10I Chapter 11I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15 I Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19I Chapter 20 I Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25 I Chapter 26 I Chapter 27 I Chapter 28I Chapter 29 I Chapter 30 I Chapter 31 I Chapter 32 I Chapter 33 I Chapter 34 I Chapter 35 I Chapter 36 I Chapter 37I chapter 38 I Chapter 39 I Chapter 40 I Chapter 41 I Chapter 42 I Chapter 43 I Chapter 44 I Chapter 45 I Chapter 46I Chapter 47 I Chapter 48 I Chapter 49 I Chapter 50 I Chapter 51 I Chapter 52 I Chapter 53 I Chapter 54 I Chapter 55 I Chapter 56 I Chapter 57 I Chapter 58 I Chapter 59 I Chapter 60I Chapter 61 I Chapter 62 I Chapter 63 I Chapter 64  I Chapter 65 I Chapter 66 I Chapter 67 I Chapter 68  I Chapter 69 I Chapter 70 I Chapter 71 I Chapter 72 I Chapter 73 I Chapter 74 I Chapter 75

                                                   Chapter 76

The next two days somehow blurred to Feliciano. He felt like he had been stuck in the same place…when he had only been there for perhaps only an hour, breathing and hoping this ease could bring hm an answer. He laid his feet upon the surface of this canal, sometimes starring off into the blur of this other island. It was the German one they had told him several times, boats occasionally coming here to pick up anyone who wanted a visitor…yet the last few times he had denied the passage still trying to think, trying to piece as time passed.

 Yes, it darkened and lightened here in the usual day and night cycle, the night a splendorous one of black, purple, blue and infinite of stars that sparkled elegantly on the waters. One lived here like any other regular life, with the same pass times and leisure, easy to forget that they were dead and only waiting for a mourning to pass so they could enter the third realm. Everyone reverted to the colors of their life, only glistening, and brightening, for, as someone had told him, you have shed your magic and your spirit can shine straight anew. But indeed, since all your magic was drained in the first realm, you had no power here, but it didn’t disturb from the utter peace and felicity. People went on, Feliciano wondering if they had forgotten they once could possess such force.

 For some reason he had kept his own magic…but he preferred keeping it hidden. He didn’t know what it meant, how the people would react to it and what the angels would say. So, he settled to himself that if he had to use it, then small things that can fit in the palm of his hand.

 The angels only came when new people entered or when they had to pick someone to lead them in their entrance to the third realm. He never saw the full process, he would only see as the angel would come to someone, talk, lead them deep into the most darkened street in the town, disappear between and that person never came back. They always went alone, no matter the family household they made in their time in the island.

 They had established these families to make the settling easier, to have a group to count on and spend your time until you were called. Feliciano had found it with a group that called themselves Galdi, the one to which the little boy he had met belonged to.

 His name was Timoteo…only five years old when he passed. He was from Ragusa, at the south of the peninsula and thus very far from Barga. He had been heavily sick with an immune problem that he suffered from since birth. The youngest of three siblings, his parents working with the governance of the town. The four of them had tried hard to deal with his disease, but the war cut the route of medicines and the healers that helped. His eldest sister left to fight in the war, the sadness taking the largest toll that eventually led him here.  

 When Feliciano had heard the story, he broke and put on himself more blame for the occurrence of the war, so many times apologizing and wishing he could grant the boy his life back. Timoteo forgave him, smiling and mentioning how he suffered no pain, in a wonderful place with just as great people and had even met the Queen of Hearts.

 Yet it didn’t heal the fault, it still added to the weigh of what he was supposed to do. This tension always lay with him, grasping as he did now the edges of his seat as he forced himself more the words he had gotten to.

 The four stances…could be so many things. Care, Devotion, Empathy, Belief, Force, Magic, Openness, Knowledge…and on and on with countless of words that piled and yet none shone out to him as the intended. He needed a way to make them clear, so when he worked on showing it…he wouldn’t be doing the wrong one.

 Okay, um… Intent, Loyalty, Calculation, Anger…he spun on words, twisting them around himself, hoping they could show.

 Wish, Leadership, Serenity, Force…another sigh in his anguish, just as Timoteo took the sitting right next to him, by now knowing Feliciano’s concentrations on this, remaining silent, gazing up to him wondering if perhaps this time he had something. He knew Feliciano had given up when he moved his gaze away from the waters, up to the distance that gave him the next coming island.

 “I asked Giancarlo if he had any ideas this morning, and he suggested you asked Augusta.”

 Oh…if only it was that easy. “Augusta won’t answer me…” he tried to control his exasperation, no worth being shown to a child.

 “She lives within you…shouldn’t she…shouldn’t she help you.”

 Feliciano rolled his eyes and wished he could tell her that as well. “Timoteo…she might want me to learn it myself. After all, I’m Queen, I should know this by nature…yet I don’t…she might also be disappointed because so.”

 “No…maybe she’s just making a game,” he had thought like the child he was and Feliciano chuckled and blessed that he was there with him.

 “Wouldn’t that be fun?” He raised his legs to himself, now taking a break, thoughtful and only one person in his mind, his gaze now more intent than ever on that specific canal that connected. Timoteo knew…and he waited and even expected Feliciano’s decree to row forward…yet silence continued between them.

 “Why haven’t you gone to the German island yet?” He asked, slow as to not cause any more distress…he could tell Feliciano was hesitant. “King Ludwig is supposed to be there…right? Maybe he can help you.”

 “Yes…he is supposed to be there…but…” he sighed and saddened like he could melt to the floor in it. “It was as the angels said…if he were here then they would have known…a message should have arrived there of my presence… if Ludwig would have heard it…he would have come as quick as possible…but it’s been two days and there’s been nothing of him.”

 “…the angels suggested you could still check,” he wanted to believe.

 “I could but…I’m afraid of what I can find out…you know the real story of Augusta and Romulus don’t you?”

 He nodded excitedly, attentive, and glowing ready to hear the tale all over again.

 “When Romulus passed by Khaos’s hand…he didn’t come here…for the longest time Augusta thought he had completely disappeared…lost and truly left without a chance to see him again…” what dreadful things, what misery…he shouldn’t be telling this to a child…yet Timoteo continued to gaze up to him with big innocent eyes, unperturbed by the words.

 “And you’re worried that the same thing has happened.”

 And the very words he had been thinking, not daring to say out loud, were whisked into the air by the young boy. “…he…was killed by Khaos…I doubt he would be so merciful.” And he turned away, not wanting the island to give him false hopes.

 Yet despite how everything seemed so unlikely…Timoteo wanted to keep that hope. “I can go with you if you want, so no matter what you find…I’ll try to help you and…we can figure something out.” He didn’t know what…but he wanted to keep Feliciano faithful to the chance of seeing Ludwig again…even if it meant not in the Interludes…even when there wasn’t a single way.

 Feliciano sighed, straightened up and there was intention in the way he gazed that made Timoteo know they were meant to take the next coming boat.

 The Queen realized that the boy had truth in discovering more of what this could be. No matter what he would find out…he was sure it would not stop him from searching a way.

  The sailor who was in the boat that transported Feliciano and Timoteo couldn’t stop stuttering his words, wouldn’t stop bowing…or staring intensively at the Heartian Queen. Feliciano giggled and tried to give him as much ease as he could on the journey…a half hour one with a lot to witness in these waters as they crossed.

 Despite how these boats could hold the weight of bringing about twelve spirits, only one person rowed, their oars the only thing in this realm that trespassed the water reflection under them to push. From what Feliciano had learned, these rowers were not angels, but spirits who had lived themselves long ago, had passed all four realms, lived with the Aces and were granted this job once there. They either wished it or it was given as a sort of punishment for wrong doings they did in their past life. They were knowledgeable in the map of this world, their rower pointing and naming the other islands they witnessed from afar. But each soul was limited specific routes, and this one in particular could not go further to the islands they couldn’t see or the ones from other kingdoms.

 With each paddle forward, Feliciano became heavier, his expression more fallen, the sailor and even Timoteo distracted in the conversations of other passengers to really notice. The island began to come clearer, with building of stone and wood that showed the clear artistry unique to the German province. It was a mix of old and new, of city and country, and it reminded Feliciano of one of the inner streets of Berlin. The beauty made him blissfully forgetful, ignorant to a crowd of people that were surely awaiting friends or even loved ones. The surprise was soon quickly spread as they witnessed him. The usual whispers Feliciano had now been used to arose, but he didn’t bother to listen or give attention at first. He rose out of the boat, helping Timoteo to stand at his closeness, making sure they were both well suited in their arrival before Feliciano could turn to the crowd…taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the answer he would get.

 “Greetings,” he started and continued in German, “despite how it might seem, I am not really dead.” He went on with the usual information of his journey until all could understand the circumstances to not create a massive panic.

 “We understand well, your majesty. But why come to our island?” A man had wondered for all.

 “I…” and here it would come, his voice coming into a shake, gripping his hands, and biting his lips from not showing more this weakness. “I’m looking for my husband.”

 Startlement, all exchanging confused glances, then searching between one another, wondering if simply they had missed him.

 “King Ludwig?”

 “Yes, is he here? If so, then please, take me to him! I have to see him!” He begged, his eyes watered now, a reaction the men and women moved back from…not understanding what to do, what to say. Timoteo took a stronger hold of his hand, easing him, reminding to be patient and attentive.

 “Your majesty, we know our dear king was taken…but…”

 “We…believe he’s already in the third or fourth realm…maybe with the Aces…” one tried to alight.

 “No…it doesn’t make sense. With the amount of time Ludwig has been dead…he should be here…I know he should be here…” Feliciano insisted, thinking they were only hiding him, ready to dash forward and look for himself.

 “Your majesty!” One woman told the loudest, taking well his attention as she stood high and mighty in the crowd, understanding well…Feliciano could tell that currently she has been the longest there, perhaps only hours to be chosen for her path to the third realm. “Ludwig is not here…and he hasn’t been here…” harsh words, enunciated and sure that Feliciano had no way to denying. The tears fell and his breath began to hitch.

 “Emilie, be reasonable, perhaps-” one tried to alight.

 “I’ve long been here…and no king has come…and none of the people I was with at the beginning mentioned such a presence.”

 Timoteo’s heart hurt for Feliciano, who now began to shake in his hold, and he looked up to him vastly worried. Even with his grasp, Feliciano looked lost, ready to suffocate at the harshness his breathing increased in.

 He should have expected this…he shouldn’t be surprised, it shouldn’t be suffocating him like this.

 “Not here…not here…” Feliciano repeated in anguish.

 But he did have hope…his heart truly believed he would be there so everything could be the same as it was…but now…no…such a chance was never to occur again…Ludwg suffered the same faith as Romulus…he was gone…he was gone…gone…gone…

 “I’m so sorry, your majesty…we would love to know what’s going on also and help…but…there’s nothing we can do…” someone tried to come close to give whatever comforts, but no matter, Feliciano began to loose focus, sweating from the harshness it took to breathe.

 “Feliciano…Feliciano?” Timoteo tried to call, but it was like he was slowly disappearing from his vision.

 So many began to try and call for him, but he gave none an answer as his breath overcame everything else.

  Roderich was surprised he could run this fast, could even let his legs raise him as he went across that ruined expanse. He was heavily bruised, blood coated his armor, yet he still managed some force to keep up with the other two.

 “Ready?” An Oralee called, reminding him of the mission.

 “We’re even!” a Whitean joined.

 Yes, the three of them were perfectly aligned, amazingly so as the ground crumbled underneath them, as ribbons of darkness danced about them, the feet of Khaos menacing ever closer with stomps that could have swallowed them all to be forgotten. But no…they were determined that this wouldn’t be their end. With grimaces, with pain in every single one of their bones, they extended their hands in a perfect balance, a beam like rope being formed. They began to move apart, expanding the distance, sometimes wobbling as one jumped or dived to avoid a ribbon. Soon enough they had what they wanted, a perfect space, the three moving until it was targeted like a large bow.

 “Fire!” Roderich shouted and they released just as they would an arrow, a field running up, the end a large shard that fell and pierced into Khaos. A scream, chilling and painful to hear, especially being this near. The monster began to bend in a nearing to the ground, to fall. The three smiled at achieving this, one of the rare times, but it was quickly vanished when they noticed it was ready to fall on them. From their awe, they had to dash at whatever space they could find.

 The ribbons were coming at them fiercer, messed, and dangerous without control. They didn’t think it would be possible to pass through, closing their eyes and expecting the soon taking. But then came the insisting voice, along with the call that was unique of a specific kind of deer bread for the use of war as this. They were tall, imposing, fast and with antlers capable of taking many to death at a time.

 “Come on! Come on! Come on!” Came the shout of the Jack of Diamonds, ushering them forward to him, all taking a grasp of the animal, safe and secure before it hasted away to the safest ground they could reach, the top of a mountain that they made their center of operations and health when it was not moving and possible. João was there to greet them, pen and scroll in his hand ready to write the next commands and messages.

 “It worked…” the Oralee told, trying to catch her breath, “…but I don’t know how much time it gives us.”

 “We got him to fall…it’s more than what we hoped for,” João told them in gratitude.

 “We can’t waste anymore time. Hurry with the next part! There are still some towns here that need to be evacuated!” Vash reminded them all, with his deer, heading over to continue helping these people. The others went ahead, only João and Roderich remained, both to stare at both sides of the view they had.

 The side were Khaos was wallowing in was filled with darkness, once such greet greens and rivers now in greys, smoke and only but cracked earth. Only some soldiers remained to fend and attack as continuous, preparing, swallowed and surely tearful with fear and mourning for their land. Roderich especially hurt…seeing his kingdom driven to this, a weeping he needed to hide…not now when there was still much to do, with Khaos still undefeated.

 They turned to the other side, these mountains doing well to hide the towns and even city in the distance that needed to be hurried out and emptied this instant. What gave them more panic was the fact that they could see the Spadian border from here, flags raised and armies ready to begin the defense and attack they had planned…what they had called new people for, begged for new plans and weapons.

 “Go and join the rest with the help in evacuating whose left, I’ll stay here and send messages if anything else happens,” João suggested, hiding his own turmoil by focusing on the writing he had to do.

 João would be alone then…something that didn’t sit well with Roderich. Now they needed to be together, to help and aid…

 ”Roderich!” He turned to see Elisa, ruined and panic in her eyes, “some people won’t leave unless it is by your command. You have to hurry! They believe that you’ll manage everything, and their towns won’t be destroyed!”

 Roderich decided on hurrying instead, only being able to send João luck.

  “Khaos is right at Spade’s doorsteps!” Louis announced the contents.

 “I’m writing the commands to begin and act!” Arthur exasperated, not liking to be reminded.

 In this array, in this action and load of continuous working, Elizabeta couldn’t bring herself to go on, heavily bended on her desk, trying to hide her expression of dread. Currently, Kandake was the only one that could grant her comfort, a hand soothing on her back, telling her a mantra to keep breathing.

 “All of Clubs is destroyed…everything is gone…” Elizabeta went on to whimper and mourn over the loss of her kingdom, under her reports on how every single province had suffered a darkened poison, all her population left without a home, runaways in other kingdoms she didn’t know could last and the rest…dead…gone, a pain adding and only sinking her more in this position. Others could only stare, not knowing what reach they could make at such a happening…one that would surely befall on them.

 Aldrich sighed and turned from all to stare back at the pool…hoping for some new hope from Feliciano’s body, still suspended and drifted…no changes. It had only been a couple of days since they began mourning…they shouldn’t be expecting anything for the coming weeks. Pookie was the only one that sat and took watching next to him, patient and still for his master’s return. Aldrich gripped the latest letter that arrived…not finding it in him to read aloud and worsen the air.

 As the Spadian border was spotted and was ready for the onslaught…the Hearts border was preparing itself for the same faith.

  Herakles walked the line all the time, one end to the other, sometimes using ferries, even serpents that lived in these waters and offered their help. He wanted to believe it stood powerful, everybody armored, ordered in precision, men and women from different parts of Hearts…even other Kingdoms, ready to face off this monster.

 A particular shout made many gasp out of order, for Herakles to see the shake clear in many of their eyes, their grips tightening around their weapons, some making clear sound. Over in the distance, a haze yet still on those hills of Clubs, above it all stood the rage of Destro, the armies there dealing what they could in their battle, the shines of their spell alighting the darkness of this monster. They were all small, like nothing…none of this was working.

 Soon…once the monster could take his passage through the mountains, it would cross the sea, blacken it and then it would be a battle of their responsibility. It would touch ground in Hearts for the first time and begin its ever approach on Berlin.

  “Feliciano…Feliciano!” All it took was just the right shout, to make his vision clear again, to halt his breathes enough so they could slowly settle at their usual pace. “Remember… we’ll figure something out…we’ll find a way…” The boy seemed to lead him back into place, back into his position, into realizing where he was, to the plans…to thinking. Feliciano gave a half smile, turning to the others to nod and make his way elsewhere in the town…somewhere where they could be alone to think…and realize what it was they should do next. They chose a forgotten corner where no one came to bother them, the water reaching at the steps there, Feliciano meeting for that same relax, that sign to head into his mind and let words wander again. It was also a moment to truly let his breaths go back to their usual rhythm…and to try and forget about the scene he just created. He looked back, noticing that the crowds went to focusing on other things, on those who came new here…Feliciano intended to apologize once it was time to leave.

 “If he’s not here…then, he’s not really dead,” Timoteo alighted, sure and positive.

 Feliciano couldn’t join in it…for his mind only repeated that he was gone, out of a reach that they couldn’t hold to anymore. “Timoteo, I know you want to help…and I know you want to believe that Ludwig is out there…but it’s just-”

 “What happened to Romulus?”

 It was so sudden that Feliciano took some time to settle on the new question. He thought to all the stories, all the readings, new and old…that letter Ludwig had received from him…that tearful confession on the past field long ago. “Augusta had thought he was gone…”

 “But she kept hope didn’t she! What was it that she thought that she desperately tried to believe in? The reason she hid her own importance, erased from history all together.”

 “Because…she thought Romulus’s soul was still alive somehow…even if not in the Interludes…and if it was given enough attention it could come back…” Slowly the mechanics in his mind started to turn, started to fall in their place to give it more thought. The letter…the letter. “She was…partially right. Romulus’s spirit did survive…it was just…Khaos kept it…he tainted it with darkness and gave it to the Beilschmidt line to pass through…like Augusta was passing through mine…” he stood as it came clearer in his mind like water. “Like Khaos, like me…Ludwig was going to go through his own surge…he was going to…” His mind headed in that darkness, the one he had learned from Ludwig, to understand, to read out the answer, like runes, like monsters, screaming and avenging in nightmares, now in their world come to life. “Khaos…captured him…tainted him…” He paced in anguish as the reality became surer, trying to escape, seeing if perhaps there was something he missed. When there was really nothing else…he suddenly stopped and froze at what it meant. “He was…” he shook, he saw, right before him as if ready to swallow him all. “I know…oh no…I know…”

 Timoteo came up and tried to reach him, “what? What is it?”

 Feliciano turned, horror in his eyes, “I know what happened to Ludwig…I know where he is.”