#lest you mistake them for the beast

[static-kills]

Sacrifice

[p-artsypants]

The Pale Rider (4) Insistence at Acceptance

The Isle of Berk is cursed. Like, extremely cursed. It has been for generations. The extent of the curse has been forgotten over time, but no descendants of the original village are able to leave the island, lest they suffer a gruesome fate. Three years ago, the Blacksmith invited the Pale Rider to town. He’s a creature that’s haunted the forest and childhood campfire stories for centuries. Now, he arrives every day at noon. One day, Astrid Hofferson decides to be brave and talk to him. He’s actually really nice…for an eldritch abomination. A Beauty and the Beast AU.

Ao3

It occurred to Astrid that she was looking forward to noon. Seeing the Rider, exchanging strange conversations, was becoming the highlight of her day. 

It had been one week since she bravely approached him in the forge. And not for one second did she have any regrets. 

The butterfly weed was in full bloom, allowing for vibrant touches of orange in her bouquets. Midsummer, her garden and all the wildflower patches of Berk were teeming with colors, not to mention butterflies and bees. It was her favorite part of the year. 

Also her most profitable. 

She still made some profits in the colder months, but those purchases came in the form of dried herbs. They couldn’t be relied on. 

She never wanted to admit it, but the tip the Rider had given her had eased a lot of anxiety she had about those months. 

It was almost noon. She saw people hurrying to get inside, and she knew it was almost time. 

“Hello Sweet Cheeks,” a smarmy voice lulled from her side.  

Astrid closed her eyes in defeat. It had simply been too good to be true. One day of peace from Dagur seemed to be all she was afforded. 

“Miss me?”

“No.” 

He pouted, walking around the front of the cart to lean his elbows on it. “Why do you have to be so cruel to me, Darling?”

“Because you didn’t listen the first ten times I said no. So now I have no choice but to treat you the way I think of you.” 

“And that is?”

“Like mud.” 

He grimaced, grabbing his chest. “Your words stab like a hot knife through my heart.” 

From around the corner, Astrid saw the swaying figure of the Rider as he came down the road. 

Dagur noticed her gaze and turned to look. “Ah, I see. Right on time.” 

Astrid swallowed the lump in her throat, fearing what was to come. Dagur couldn’t be thinking of antagonizing the Pale Rider, was he? Surely, he wasn’t that deranged? Of course, the Rider had been completely harmless up until now, but what would happen if he was angered or threatened? 

The Rider slowed his amble to graze, approaching slowly, as if hesitating. 

Dagur met his gaze, defiant and hateful. “Beat it.” 

Astrid held her breath, fearing the reaction from the Rider. Would he stand being talked to like that? 

He turned from them and headed towards Gobber’s, but not without looking at her. His green gaze was electric, burning, searing into her soul. It read her mind. 

But he didn’t stop. He just wandered away. 

“There,” said Dagur, once the Rider had slipped into Gobber’s forge. “Snookums is here to protect you!” 

“I don’t need your protection, Dagur. The Rider is my friend.” 

“He is a monster,” he spit. “That thing will kill you one day. I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but he’s playing with you. And when he’s done…” he dragged a finger across his neck. 

“You’re full of it. You’ve never talked to him! How would you know!?” 

“I know stories, Astrid. Old stories, true stories. Of the things he did, the people he murdered. Don’t trust him.” 

“And I should trust you?” 

He reached for her. “Yes, my little cupcake.” And he played with her hair. 

Angry and offended on the Rider’s behalf, Astrid threw a fist that landed on Dagur’s cheek. 

He staggered backwards, holding his face. “You little—” 

“Touch me again, I dare you,” She snarled. 

He dropped his hand, giggling. His face had a little blood on it. “Oh Astrid, sweet Astrid. You’ve just made a huge mistake.” He grinned. “I’ll remember this, darling.” 

Goosebumps ran down her spine. What could he possibly mean? 

He gave her one last bone-chilling grin before leaving, and Astrid spat in the dirt as he left. 

He left her in a foul mood. All excitement and joy of the day was gone, replaced with dread. It was beyond unfair. Dagur was so possessive of her, even though he had no claim. She just wished he’d get bored and leave her alone. 

After some time, the Rider emerged from the forge. 

There may still be time to salvage the day! 

“Rider!” She chirped. 

He seemed surprised, as his shoulders bounced slightly, before he came over to her. “Your friend is gone,” he commented. 

She huffed. “He’s not my friend.” 

“Betrothed?” 

This made her visibly gag. “No! And he never will be!” 

“I see. Because Snotlout is?” 

“No!” Her fingers flexed around her face in frustration, and she grabbed her hair for an anchor. “No. Both Snotlout and Dagur want to court me, but I don’t like either of them. Snotlout is a friend, but I don’t have any romantic interest in him. I hate Dagur with every fiber of my soul.” 

“Then why are they persisting?”

“Because neither of them can take no for an answer. Honestly, I’ll be stuck fighting them off until I tell one of them yes.” 

 He considered this. “Will we still be friends if…you marry one of them?” 

There was a smallness in his voice, an uncertainty. She never thought she’d hear something like that from him. “Of course. Friends forever.” 

He nodded heavily, pleased with the sentiment. 

“But don’t worry about it, because I’m not marrying anyone anytime soon.” 

“Are those two your only options?” 

She rested her forearms on the cart. “Technically no. You met Tuffnut and Fishlegs. They’re the other two in my age group. Once I turn 18, I can marry any man in the town. I know some of the older boys are keeping an eye on me.” She sighed. “It’s really all very exhausting, and disgusting.” 

“And you can’t leave,” he added. “Because of the…curse. You cannot look for a lover outside of Berk.” 

“Yep, that’s the gist of it.” She shrugged. “You know…my father died because of that part of the curse. He was a fisherman, and his boat went out too far.” 

A strange noise came from the Rider, like a strangled gasp. “Your…father…?”

“Yeah.” 

“I am…so sorry.” 

“Thank you, but it’s not your fault.” 

“It is, actually.” 

She felt cold and tears pricked at her eyes. “What?” 

“My actions…though they escape me now. They caused the curse on this land.” 

One tiny piece of the mystery was solved. Whoever the Rider had been before, in that secret other life, he was being punished now. So at least he wasn’t the one that cast the curse. 

“It's still not really your fault,” she argued. “You didn’t do the cursing, right?” 

“No.” 

“No rational person would curse another. Especially to this extent,” she gestured to the town around her. “And…unpleasant as the thought is, my dad probably wouldn’t have died if he had been a little more careful.” 

The sentiment didn’t seem to placate the Rider as he continued to stand there, still and silent. 

Astrid decided to change the subject. “Let’s go get some tea.” 

“Hm?” 

“You can drink tea, right? You have a mouth under there?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then let’s go. I have another friend I want you to meet. She’s nice, you’ll like her.” Then she sheepishly added. “She’s Dagur’s sister, but she’s not like him at all.” 

He thought it over, and asked. “Can we stop to see Fishlegs first?” 

She brightened. “Of course!” 

They walked side by side, moving at a leisurely stroll. Not everyone in town hid when the Rider came, but they all kept their distance. 

Mrs. Larson was hanging the laundry up as they passed by. Astrid waved to her, then the Rider did the same. 

Awkwardly, Mrs. Larson returned the gesture, though looked thoroughly pale as she did so. 

At the bookshop, the door was open to let the warm summer breeze invigorate the dusty air. 

“Fishlegs!” Astrid called. “Are you in?” 

“Yep!” He called from the back. “Just a sec—“ he peered his head in from storage, and then cut himself off as he saw the Rider. 

“Oh Thor, I knew it.” 

“Fishlegs,” Astrid rolled her eyes. 

“J-J-Just a sec!” He called again. He had an armful of books and navigated through the aisles, before dropping them on the counter and turning to them. “H-How can I help?” 

The Rider stepped closer, his gait unsteady and swaying. Fishlegs trembled, frozen to the spot. When right in front of him, the Rider pulled a book out of his cloak, and handed it to Fishlegs. 

“Here. An apology, for frightening you.” 

Fishlegs cautiously took the book and opened it. Suddenly, all the fear fled from him. “Oh wow! A first edition ‘Ruminations on Nations’! And it’s…it’s in perfect condition! Where did you get this?” 

“I had it. In my home. I saw you had a later edition.” 

“Rider! This—this book is worth a lot of money! I can’t—I could ask my uncle if he wanted to buy it, but—I don’t know if we can!” 

“Keep it. It’s a gift.” He insisted. “I…have spent many centuries in isolation. When Gobber invited me into town, it was the first time I felt…happiness. I am most happy when I can talk to others. When they look at me without fear. Friendship is rare for me, something I am still learning. But I would like your friendship. If you are willing.” 

Astrid felt that familiar lump in her throat she felt every time the Rider revealed just how sad and vulnerable he was. 

It seemed like Fishlegs felt the same. Despite being a scaredy cat, Fishlegs was incredibly empathetic. “Alright, yeah. We can be friends,” he said softly, almost dazed. 

Astrid joked, “All it took was a gift of a rare and valuable book.” 

“Excuse me,” Fishlegs sniped, offended. “I’ll have you know that only the most intelligent and kind creatures are capable of preserving knowledge. With this single act, the Rider has proven himself to be completely worthy of my trust.” 

The Rider stood up straight, as if proud. He hummed a little, and Astrid wondered if he was smiling. 

“So,” began Fishlegs, as he locked the book away in a glass case. “Does the castle have a library? I thought anything in there would be…you know, in ruins.” 

“He said the castle isn’t crumbling or anything,” said Astrid. 

“There is a library,” the Rider answered. 

“Could I…come and see it sometime? This is the closest to a library I’ve ever seen. The books here were collected over a lifetime of him traveling. He’s not blood related, so he can come and go. He used to trade books all over the archipelago. He settled here when he met my aunt. But she’s like me, of the blood, so we can’t leave.” 

The Rider nodded in understanding. “Perhaps one day, you may see it. No one has ever stepped foot in the castle before. Not even Gobber would come in.” 

“Didn’t you say it was dangerous?” Astrid asked. 

Fishlegs squeaked. 

“In some places. If I was there with you, it would be safe.” 

Fishlegs sighed then, relaxing a bit. 

“Hey, we were going to go get some tea at Heather’s. Wanna come?” Astrid asked. 

“Oh, I guess! It is about time for my lunch break.” 

The three made their way just a few buildings over to Heather’s little tea shop. It was smaller than Fishlegs’ bookstore, but not a cart like Astrid’s. The Rider ducked as he entered, and still had to keep his head bowed to avoid scraping the short ceiling with his horns. 

“Heather! We’ve come for tea!” Astrid announced. 

Oh she knew what they were there for, and she knew just who ‘they’ were. Heather smiled as Astrid and Fishlegs entered, and then positively paused in terror as the last being dipped in. The tray of cups rattled in her hands. 

“You must be Heather,” said the Rider. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Heather set the tray down before she could drop it. She took a long, trembling sigh, before looking up to stare at him again. She forced a smile that looked fake, but nonetheless charming, before sticking her hand out and chirping, “hiya!”                                                   

He grasped her hand and Astrid could see Heather tremble like someone had dropped an ice cube down her shirt. 

He let go, and Heather began to collect herself. “What are we drinking today?” 

“Just an Earl Gray for me, please,” said Fishlegs. 

“I’d like the lavender, please,” said Astrid, taking a seat at a little table. 

“And you, Rider?” Heather asked pleasantly. 

He was quiet for a long time, and Astrid feared he didn’t know what he wanted and felt overwhelmed. It was just so damn hard to guess his expression with that mask on. 

“Do you have peach?” He finally asked. 

“Peach?” Astrid gawked. 

“Yeah, I have a peach lemon, does that sound good?” 

He nodded. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back with those.” 

He turned to Astrid. “What’s wrong with peach?” 

“Nothing! I just…wasn’t expecting it.” There was hardly anything he did that didn’t surprise her at this point. He was a mystery, one that was as unpredictable as the weather. 

And yet, he wasn’t. 

Dagur was truly unpredictable. Laughing when he should have yelled, violent over nothing. He kept her on her toes, preparing to run. 

The Rider, however, was always peaceful. She felt a sense of calmness and gentleness even when he was in a ‘bad’ mood. His answers were unexpected, but she had started to get used to it. Whatever he was going to say would be interesting and new. 

“This is a nice day,” said the Rider. Heather had brought the tea out and quietly sat with them. He raised the mug to his face, and it briefly disappeared under the mask. 

“It really is a nice day,” agreed Fishlegs. “It’s been really nice weather lately.”

“Hmmhmm,” Heather nodded, relaxed. It seemed she had adapted much quicker to the Rider’s presence than anyone else so far, but then again, she did have her eyes closed. 

The peace was interrupted by a loud, “Aha!” From the doorway. 

Three jumped and one groaned, as Snotlout strolled into the shop. “Mettling a new business today, hmm?” 

“Snotlout,” Heather began. “I really don’t appreciate you bothering my customers.” 

Snotlout was about to retort, when the Rider spoke, “I was hoping I’d see you again.” 

“...You were?” 

“Yes.” The Rider stood, and carefully pushed his chair in. He approached Snotlout and reached into his cloak. “I have something for you.” 

Astrid wanted to intervene, to tell the Rider Snotlout didn’t deserve any sort of gift for the way he treated him yesterday.

But the words stilled as he pulled a sheathed sword out of his cloak. 

“Here, this is for you.” He handed it over, handle side out. 

Snotlout just stared at the sword before taking a trembling grasp of it. “I…I don’t know why you would want to give me—why does it have my name on it?” 

The other teens scrambled to get a look, and saw clearly inscribed on the pommel was the name ‘Jorgenson’. Except the sword didn’t look new. The handle was worn, and part of it was gathering a tarnish. 

“A guard needs a sword,” said the Rider. “And this one belongs to you.” 

Snotlout continued to stare at it, two puzzle pieces in his head rotating to try to fit together.

“It belonged to your ancestor,” the Rider explained. “He was a general, and a great warrior.” 

Snotlout’s breathing picked up, as he squeezed the sword in both hands. “This is my family’s? Where did you—?”

“In the castle armory. My father recognized your name and told me to look for it.” 

This bit of information grabbed everyone’s attention, and they looked at him in shock. 

“You have a family?” Asked Fishlegs. 

“Yes.” 

“Why have we never seen them?”

Astrid was about to explain that they were also cursed, but the Rider readily answered. “They can’t leave the castle.” Then, in a softer voice, he added. “I can’t even touch them.” 

Astrid wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, as she raised her hand to rest on his arm. 

But she didn’t actually touch him. Little vapors of steam filtered out the holes in the mask. The acid green fire of his eyes had gone out, leaving black shadows in the skull’s empty sockets. Then, a rivet of black liquid trailed down his jaw, the only part of his face that was visible. It traveled down his gray skin, leaving a line like ink behind. 

“He’s crying…” Snotlout noted, bewildered. 

“I am sorry,” said the Rider. “For a moment, I felt tremendous grief.” He lifted his long boney fingers and wiped under his mask. 

Snotlout stuck his hand out. “Hey, uh. I changed my mind. You’re not so bad, you know…for a cursed abomination.” 

“Did you really have to add that last part?” Astrid huffed. 

The Rider took Snotlout’s hand and shook, causing Snotlout to tremble as a whimper left his throat. “Would you do me a favor?” 

Snotlout gave an irritated laugh. “Alright buddy, butter me up with an heirloom sword and then ask me for a favor. I see how this is working. What do you want?” 

“Stop flirting with Astrid.” 

Astrid’s eyes went wide in shock. She would never ask the Rider to intervene on her behalf, but maybe, just maybe, Snotlout would listen if it was coming from someone else. 

Snotlout was a bit hurt. “What? Why?” 

“If you truly care for her, you will do as she asks and stop. She said you’re her friend. Don’t drive her away.” 

Astrid was fully prepared to tell the Rider to mind his own business, but instead Snotlout looked to be contemplating his words. In response, he reached out and touched Astrid’s shoulder. 

“Hey uh, sorry,” He said sheepishly. “I’ll dial it back just…just don’t start dating Dagur, okay? That guy is nuts and is liable to hurt you.” 

Astrid agreed. “I don’t like Dagur. At all. Not even as a friend.” 

A loud whiny from outside startled the group. 

“Toothless is getting restless,” said the Rider. “I better go. Here, for the tea.” He dropped a gold coin into Heather’s hand. 

“Wait! This is way too much!” 

“It’s for everyone’s cup.” 

Then everyone else started protesting too, assuring they could pay for their own cups of tea. 

“You don’t need to bribe us,” said Astrid. “We’ve already agreed to be your friend.” 

Again, he shook his head. “I…am not trying to bribe. The castle has…” he paused, hesitating to confess this info. “There’s treasure. It will do more good for the town. But they will not accept it from me. I have been…funneling it in through Gobber for years. I’m running out of silver coins.” 

“I humbly accept your gold piece,” said Heather. “I’ll invest it. And I’ll make sure to have plenty of peach tea next time.” 

“You mean…I can come again?”

“Whenever you want!” 

He nodded again. 

“Look at that, Rider! You’ve been invited into town by five different businesses! Isn’t that great?” 

He started to wander towards the door. “It's more than I could ask for. The kindness of this village is…overwhelming.” 

“Well,” said Fishlegs. “When we can’t leave, we have to be extra nice to people passing through to get them to stay.” 

The Rider hung his head, another reminder of the curse. 

Astrid tried to cheer him up. “I’ll get more wolfsbane for Toothless tomorrow! He likes it, right?” 

The Rider took a second to think about it, and asked, “could you get some of those thorny vines with the dark purple berries? Those are his favorites.” 

“Consider it done.” 

“Then I bid you farewell.” With a speed she wasn’t used to, he lurched towards the door and was gone. An icy air lingering in his absence. 

[object-vault-9]

Mountain Gods

Small, kind of rambly exploration of the group/ex members (King Pin, Bowling Pin, Charger)

(Despite it not covering everything, it's still a little long. Warning for undetailed mentions of violence (even against family) )

Mountain Gods:

King Pin:

A legend, he's referred to by his gang with god-like reverence. The mountain gods are a huge organization, not a small scale gang like the bandits the vault members typically tussle with. The "wars" between them are nothing compared to the gods conflicts with other large groups like The New Order and other large raider gangs.

King Pin is so respected that if he told one of his members jump off a bridge they would. To keep control over his gang, he treats it in a monarchy fashion, planning for one of his 9 children to take over, and pushing them into often violent competition with one another for a chance at his approval. The fact they all look so much like him is intentional, making him into an almost immortal figure.

Like Charger, he enforces control with fear, but also respect. He rewards people generously and punishes them severely. It's important to him his 'subjects' eat well, stay healthy and feel indebted to him and the group. 

King Pin wasn't the original founder, but he led it into its greatest 'era' after a fight to the death with the previous head after serving as their right hand man for years.

They control the whole mountain range, making it difficult for groups to pass through, and leading to the vault built into the base of the range's isolation. They're unaware of it having opened, but as long as the vault continues to keep to itself, would tolerate its existence.

Bowling Pin: 

One of the younger children of King Pin, he bears the closest physical resemblance to him, leading to him being feared by other members of the gang without having to do anything to earn that reputation.

Privately, his father sees him as a bit of a screw up. Bowling Pin has never been the best fighter of his siblings, and they'd often become easily distracted, starting flings with other gang members that die out due to how hard it is to establish a real connection with a reputation like his.

Despite being considered a failure, and lacking the cruel edge and competitive streak of his siblings, Bowling Pin's progress is kept secret from the other members. The danger with staking your legacy on your children is that when they make mistakes you have to cover them up.

Bowling Pin fled the gang after [REDACTED] and is now hiding out at the vault, where for the first time people actually got to see the real him without his father's shadow constantly hanging over him. 

The Hush Bandits are currently unaware of his uprooted life, and avoid stepping on his toes lest he lets his father know about the defected new gang. 

Amongst his family, who are all bowling pins, and the gang, he was known as Seven, or Lucky Number Seven. 

2-6 are his older siblings, 8-10 are his youngest... 1 is Kingpin himself.

Charger:

Charger is a little younger than King Pin and grew up along side him. From childhood friend to attack dog, Charger saw all of it.

Charger grew to be an enforcer of Bowling Pins, and with his unnatural size and strength, was often made to inflict punishments with just his bare hands, giving him a terrifying beast-like reputation. No one ever crossed him- and by extension - no one crossed King Pin.

When they were both young, in their 20s, King Pin had almost complete control over Charger. He was hardly his own person. No one even knew him as one at least, just the dangerous extension of his 'friend' the pin. At one point in his life, King Pin and the previous boss even had him kill one of his own parents who committed treason against the group. 

But despite knowing the pin so long, Charger's role in his life became smaller and smaller with each passing year. King Pin surrounded himself with people that would get him further than Charger ever could. Smarter people, people with more connections, etc.

When King Pin took over the gang and became King Pin, Charger was still Charger. 

Charger finally snapped, and voiced his frustration to a small group in his unit, and they defected to become their own group. Some out of the hope that they'd have a better chance at personal power by forming their own group, others out of fear or disagreements of King Pin (or fear of Charger himself).

To the rest of the gang, the disappearance of him and the small group he took is unsolved, but they're thought to be dead after a rockslide occurred the night they left.

Charger now acts like he has complete power over his new group, and he's vengeful enough to want to inflict the damage King Pin inflicted on him back... but truthfully he's deathly afraid of King Pin finding them. Even now, despite Charger likely being strong enough to over power him one on one, King Pin knows everything about Charger... his is insecurities, his weaknesses, what makes him tick. He'd crumble.

[whatiwishfanfiction]

Chapter 6 is up!!!

Once-ler tries to sell his product in town and meets the Lorax. Excerpt below (read full chapter on Ao3):

It was sticking out from a stump, covered in mossy brown fur. It was the size of a cat, but with the round bean-form of an animal Once-ler had never seen. Its most significant feature was the yellow mustache on its face that was so thick Once-ler had the urge to pick the creature up and turn him upside down to sweep a floor. It positively radiated power and adorableness both at the same time. It pulled itself up and looked him in the eye.

The foot of the creature tapped expectantly.

Once-ler straightened his grey business vest and hat. "Can I help you… sir?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, if I gave you a surprise." The creature didn't sound sorry at all. "But I think you earned the shock in your eyes. You're up to mischief, best confess. Your secret plot, your sneaky mess."

"What am I doing wrong? You mean trying to make a living? Why is everyone here so against that?" Once Once-ler started ranting, he found he couldn't stop. “At least I actually have some ingenuity. Why is that a bad thing? My family was like that too. Don't we need inventions and new ideas to keep the world going? How are people supposed to support themselves, huh? Just by working for the O'Hares, and that's it?"

"You have a point, it's true, I see. Your words hold weight, are error free. But mind your manners, and do beware, lest your sharp wit makes you an O'Hare."

Once-ler flushed. "Well, maybe you should all stop assuming that every stranger who tries something new around here is exactly like an O'Hare." He tipped his hat stiffly, and turned away.

"Hey, you're alright, don't you fret. A nice, amusing chap, I won't forget. Ambition burns, inspiring, bright, but heed my words, and do what's right. Two paths I see, a heavy choice. One leads to glory, a tempting voice. The other path is a conscience clear, but it all depends which way you steer."

"Amusing, huh? Well, I think you're annoying," Once-ler grumbled, and grabbed Melvin's leash.

The creature kept up with Once-ler's long legs at a surprisingly quick pace as it stroked its mustache. "The Lorax am I, my voice is always near. I've been watching this place, year after year. The trees and beasts, they're my sacred domain. The forest's my charge, and I'll watch over it again." It darted in front of him and stuck out its spindly hand.

Once-ler stared at the long curling fingers before hesitantly giving them a shake. "Once-ler."

"Once-ler, that's a name so odd. What could it mean, I'd love to prod. Is it a title, a moniker grand? Or a label that I can understand?"

"It means I never make a mistake more than once," said Once-ler. "Because my Ma said she wishes she hadn't.”

"And what was the woman's misstep I wonder, that gave her son such a name to ponder?"

(Full novelization on Ao3. We're going to make a bunch of high quality rewrites of movies that had too many plot holes).

[megglesthegeek]

trick or treat! 🎃

I had the absolute hardest time determining what to (hopefully) treat you with. But in the end I decided to give you a sneak peek of chapter 12 of One More Chance to Be Near you. I give you "the shower scene":

“Remind me again,” He said while trying not to open his mouth too wide, lest something drip into it.

“Guardians,” Mobius said as quickly as he could.

“Right,” Loki sneered. “So either blow up the beast, or-“

“Yeah,” Mobius nodded. “Showers.”

“Showers,” Loki agreed, then followed Mobius to the decontamination chambers just off the armory for these sorts of instances.

Loki removed his stuff from his jacket pocket - keys, tempad, portable time stick, then set them in a little basket provided for such items. He then stripped off his TVA uniform, lamenting the loss of that particular jacket all while hoping to find it again. He then strode into the showers, ready to ride himself of liquefied alien beast.

It only occurred to him what exactly he’d just done when he heard Mobius’s gait splash in the wet tiles of the enormous shower room.

Loki had absolutely no issue with nudity for the most part. Why would he? Asgard was not one for caring about modesty, not the way Midgard got so hung up on it. He’d been nude in front of others before plenty of times, even those he’d found himself attracted to.

Yet realizing that Mobius was in the same room he was in the same state of undress suddenly had him nervous. Which made absolutely no sense because it was hardly like there wasn’t anything about Loki Mobius hadn’t seen before.

Except there was. Because this Mobius did not study every moment of Loki’s life on the timeline. That became abundantly clear with the way Mobius would ask Loki about certain things that Thor referred to.

Plus, there was the flip side to this situation. Loki only had to turn around and he’d see Mobius without a single stitch for the first time ever.

He closed his eyes, reminded himself that just because he could didn’t mean he should, then focused on cleaning the gunk off his skin and out of his hair.

Then Mobius started to hum.

It was natural, like he hadn’t even realized he was doing it. A habit possibly carried over from his life on the timeline or something he’d done every new day cycle at the TVA for eons.

Loki didn’t know the tune. He had no idea if it was something he simply hadn’t heard or a melody Mobius made up as he went along. Either way, it was utterly endearing, causing a smile to twist on Loki’s lips as he finished cleaning off the alien.

When he’d finished, Loki made the mistake of glancing Mobius’s way to see what sort of expression went with the humming.

Relaxed contentment, he discovered. His eyes were closed - thankfully - and face relaxed as he ran his hands through his short, silver hair. Mobius’s arms were lean but strong, muscles flexing under the skin as he worked the soap through. The same could be said for his back, which Loki only allowed himself a moment to look at because letting himself take in any more of the man would only be to his detriment.

[pengychan]

[Baldur’s Gate III] Hell to Pay, Ch. 34

Illustration (and the art in the chapter!) is by @raphaels-little-beast

Title: Hell to Pay Summary: Assassinating an archdevil is a daunting task, even for the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. Some inside help from ‘the devil they know’ would be good, if not for the detail their last meeting ended with said devil dead in his own home. Or did it? Characters: Raphael, the Dark Urge, Astarion, Haarlep, Halsin, Karlach, Wyll. Rating: E Status: In progress

All chapters will be tagged as ‘hell to pay’ on my blog. Also on Ao3.

*** Time to staple the devil back together. (One of the unchangeable laws of the Hells is that family reunions in Cania can only ever be Dramatic. Or very very awkward. Or both.)

Art in the chapter is by @raphaels-little-beast ***

“I have it on good authority that you’re not supposed to be here, boy. And that authority just so happens to be me.”

“Gah!”

It was amusing, truly, how easily startled the boy was. And he’d looked so pleased with himself when he’d snuck in, past the Archivist - why was he still keeping that  pinnacle of incompetence around again? How many times did he have to break his spine before he learned to pay attention? - and into the archive, thinking he had not been spotted. 

Well. As pleased as anyone can look with a split lip, an eye swollen shut, and traces of blood still around the nostrils. Nubaldin was in a particularly foul mood that day - and if the hurried excuses were anything to go by, the boy expected Raphael to do worse. 

He might have, if not for the fact he was not at all in a foul mood himself. In fact, it had been quite the fruitful day: he’d collected on three contracts, and soon another soul would join them at the House of Hope. Caedric had attempted the mission he’d given him, failed as predicted, and his soul would belong to him as soon as it was recovered from the Shelves of Despond. 

Oh, he was going to enjoy himself coming up with ways to make him regret the day he’d thought, even for a moment, that he could get out of a contract with him.

Unaware of his thoughts, Enver Flymm-- no, just Enver now, apparently - apologized profusely. He’d learned soon that he should apologize fast for any mistake and hope for mercy, but he never downright groveled. He was afraid of him on account of not being brainless, but he was rather good at hiding the depth of that fear. Impressive, in one so young. Caedric did have a better eye for potential than Raphael had given him credit for. 

“My apologies, master. I have completed my duties for the day, and I wanted to see if there is anything more I may do to make myself useful. I could bring you more wine, maybe?”

Sitting on an armchair with a book in one hand and a cup of blood red wine in the other, Raphael chuckled. He had no need of more wine, with a mostly full pitcher on the small table by him, and he rather suspected Enver was more interested in keeping away from Nubaldin than in fetching him anything. Still, he was in a good enough mood to let that slide. It was not a complete lie: the boy did complete his duties for the day. 

“No. I don’t need more.” He nodded towards the bookshelves. “You can read, can you not?”

“Yes, master.”

“Well then, go ahead. Pick a book.” He turned his gaze back to his own book. “If your best asset is indeed your mind, you ought to train it, lest it goes dull. And should it happen, I’d have little use for you other than making a coin out of your soul.”

The boy looked surprised, but he did approach the bookshelves; most books were out of his reach, but he knew better than to try asking for help reaching higher, and contented himself with looking at the books he would get to. Raphael watched him run his fingers over the spines until finally, he grabbed a book, pulled it out.

And he screamed when the book became wreathed in flames, burning his fingers and palms. Enver stumbled back, bringing his scalded hands up to his chest. Raphael chucked into his cup. “Not that one,” he said, and smiled. “There are a few books for my reading pleasure alone. You’ll recognize them easily enough, as you can see.”

Enver turned, features twisted with pain, fear, and something amusingly close to powerless anger. There were tears he refused to spill. “You didn’t tell me some books were trapped!”

Raphael chuckled. “I didn’t tell you they were not, either.” He tilted his head, eyes fixed on the child. “Take it as a lesson. Go on. Pick another book.”

“I…” Enver hesitated, still holding up the burnt hands, eyes wide. “I… maybe I should see if--”

“That was no suggestion,” Raphael cut him off, and drank another mouthful of wine, the book on his lap forgotten about. He smiled again, all teeth. “Go on, boy. Pick one.”

***

For the three days that followed Asmodeus' summon, Mephistopheles found himself in an increasingly black mood. By the third day, he spent much of his time staring through the grand window in his throne room at the icy wasteland where Bifrons’ troops lay in wait, out of sight - pieces of a trap yet to be sprung.  

He had not necessarily expected his whelp to rush to Cania; it was entirely possible that he’d decided to take some time and plan his next move, rather than throwing himself in danger without thinking. Raphael was many things, but a complete imbecile was not one of them.

But he had reached Maladomini: of that, he was certain. He’d received word that several members of his cult were found dead alongside a diabolist in Baldur’s Gate… and upstairs was a portal which opened into the Seventh layer, not far from Malagard.

It was easy to tell what had happened: his servants had heeded his order to keep an eye on diabolists and had approached this Helsik - one of Mammon’s, he was told. Then, they probably lay in wait should his spawn try to employ her services. Obviously he did, and the ensuing fight did not go as they’d hoped. Mortals were prone to such miscalculations; Mephistopheles had shrugged off the loss of a few cultists, and began to wait. 

Either Antilia would lure Raphael to his demise right away, or she would send word that he’d reached Malagard, should he decide not to move for Cania immediately. But neither thing had happened: no Raphael and more concerningly, no word from Antilia. 

There could be reasons why she had decided not to contact him; it could put her in danger of exposure and it was a risk she could not afford. Baalzebul was unlikely to take it kindly, if he found out her role as a double spy; Mephistopheles was rather certain his old enemy would destroy her, and he had power enough to. But that did not matter. It would not happen. His High Cantor, his best spy, his daughter, had never slipped before; surely, she would not stumble now.

Perhaps he was worrying over nothing. Soon enough he would be heading to Nessus, where Asmodeus intended to have all archdukes present as Bel was declared Lord of the First. He was already the de-facto ruler of Avernus, with Zariel gone from Baator, but of course it needed to be made official. Baalzebul was aware of it, because he too was to be present; and if he knew so did Raphael, who was certainly taking refuge at his court. 

And it would make sense, he knew, for him to try and slip into Cania while its ruler was off to Nessus. An almost idiotically obvious move, and one that would change nothing: he could trust Antilia and Bifrons to see to it. Perhaps he’d return to Mephistar to find Raphael captured, and at his mercy. He’d take the time to give Antilia what he promised her - “ Daughter,” he muttered again under his breath - before he headed to the dungeons and oh, he would take his time, then. He’d make him tell him exactly how he’d made a fool of him, who had aided him, for what reason. 

And then, once that wretched tongue of his had said all that he needed to hear - well. You do not need a tongue to scream, and he would scream for a very, very long time to come. Perhaps, if he found himself in a merciful mood--

“The Lord of the Second and the de-facto Lord of the First have arrived, my lord.”

Duke Hutijin’s voice snapped Mephistopheles from his thoughts. He sighed, and turned to look at his second in command standing in the doorway, made in hand and eyes flaming. “At the same time?”

“Almost. They stepped out of the respective portals scarcely a minute apart.”

“Did Dispater at least show him some courtesy before he rushed to the grand all to the others?”

“Just enough he wouldn’t be obviously impolite. Bel’s presence seems to make him vastly uncomfortable. I suspect that the new Lord of the First found it rather amusing.”

“Near anything outside of the Iron Tower makes him vastly uncomfortable. But as Bel clearly had a hand in the ousting of the previous Lord of the First, I am not surprised the Lord of the Second is ill at ease around him. They’ll be rather uneasy neighbors, I imagine.”

“It seems your son played a role in his return to the throne of Avernus, too.”

“And I do intend to speak to Bel about the matter,” Mephistopheles replied. It was true, but it was not something he was particularly anxious to do: Raphael was no longer in Avernus, after all. Whatever Bel had to tell him would change little. It wasn’t as though he could be convinced to turn on his wayward span and hand him over as a sign of goodwill between archdukes: he did not have him. “Who else has arrived?” he asked. 

The only way to the seat of Admodeus’ power - to Malsheem, the mighty fortress at the heart of Nessus - was through Cania. Each time he called on all archdukes to be in attendance, portals for the personal use of archdukes and their highest dignitaries only would be activated, allowing them to step into Mephistar’s carefully guarded portal room directly from their own strongholds. 

Each portal would then be deactivated to ensure no others may follow and they would be escorted to the grand hall, where they generally did a good enough job at subtly insulting one another while engaging in civil conversation. At least until they all were there and it was time to move as one, down to the Pit which opened up on the frozen lake guarded by an army of nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine gelugons… at whose bottom, in turn, was the only way to the Ninth.

“Nearly all of them. The Lord of the Fifth - well, an aspect of the Lord of the Fifth, I’d imagine, since Levistus himself is still stuck in an ice cube - and the Lord of the Seventh are on their way. I would not be surprised if they arrived as we spoke,” Hutijin was saying. He tilted his head. “I believe I forgot what Baalzebul looked like before being turned into a slug. I am rather curious, I must say.”

Of course, the Lord of the Seventh. Facing Baalzebul was never a pleasant prospect for Mephistopheles, whether slug or devil, but on such occasions it was necessary… and as of now, extremely convenient. Because unlike any of his peers, Baalzebul could not lie. 

Such was the punishment imposed on him by Asmodeus’ decree - a year as a slug for every lie told to a fellow devil. Now that he was done serving that sentence, he certainly wouldn’t take the risk of lying again. If he did… well, an archdevil turning into a giant, oozing slug would be rather hard to miss.

He would not lie, but if he did, Mephistopheles would know it. And he fully intended to take advantage of that, once the formalities about Bel’s role were over with and they’d have some time to talk. 

“... Well then. It seems I should join my peers. I’ll escort them personally through the Pit, once all of us are ready, and get this ceremony in Nessus over with,” he said. He turned to Duke Hutijin. “You have Cania, until my return.”

“That I do. Perhaps this is the time I try to keep it.”

None in Cania - none in the Hells except Asmodeus and perhaps Dispater - could hope to speak such a thing aloud and hope to live to draw another breath, say another word. None but Duke Hutijin, who was very much aware of that fact if the fanged grin on his face was anything to go by. 

On another day, in a more congenial mood, Mephistopheles may have allowed a quirk of his own lips, if only for a moment. That was no such day, however and he scoffed. “If you meant to, you’d give me no such warning,” was the reply. One last look at the snowstorm howling outside and and left the throne room in long strides, saying nothing more.

Nessus awaited, and so did Asmodeus.

***

Mephistopheles’ vaults were deep beneath the citadel, carved into the ice of the glacier it stood on. By all rights, it should have been too dark to see a thing… but the ice itself seemed to glow, and Durge could feel the faint hum of magic in it. The light was faint at first, but it seemed to grow brighter as they followed Adonides through the corridor of ice where he’d teleported them in a blast of cold, cold wind. 

Very faintly, Durge remembered wondering about the reason for that glowing ice, as devils could see perfectly well in the blackest of darkness. And another memory followed, that of a brief laugh, a smile, eyes looking at him from beneath dark hair that was even more mussed than usual. 

They-- Bhaal’s Chosen -- had almost reached up to brush it back, but they had fought back the idiotic impulse just as Enver Gortash leaned back against the pillows.

“There are servants down there for menial tasks, what remains of mortal souls indebted to Mephistopheles one way or another. They need to be able to see if they’re to carry out their duties,” he had said. A hand reached up to absent-mindedly scratch at his own bruised throat. It looked almost like a collar, and it had amused the Chosen of Bane greatly. 

His jest on how he’d given him the leash of Bhaal rather than his lash should by any right have infuriated the pure child of the Lord of Murder. It had not. It was a little concerning. That concern was promptly ignored. 

“That does seem convenient for our plan,” they said, and Gortash nodded, turning on his side, head propped up on his hand. The other hand, wearing the gauntlet even now - but then again, Bhaal’s Chosen too had kept a dagger at hand, and could cast spells at a moment’s notice - ran down the dragonborn’s chest, cold metal against scales. 

“Isn’t it just,” he had said, and grinned. “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?” they’d asked. 

The banite had nodded, and from the drawer of his nightstand--

“... Hey, soldier, is everything all right?”

Karlach’s voice snapped Durge from their thoughts. They blinked and realized they were standing several paces behind the rest of the group, who’d paused to look back at them, clearly wondering what had gotten into them. They cleared their throat. “I-- my apologies. I think I was here before. Seeing this tunnel has brought back-- something. From before.”

“Oh, something about the heist?”

Yes. Yep. Hu-hu. The heist. Let’s go with that.  

“Yes. This place is not unfamiliar,” they replied, and resumed walking, catching up with the rest. Adonides had guaranteed that the guards would not be a problem - “My personal guard shall see to it” - but they still kept their voices low, just in case. “Perhaps the portal Helsik opened back then was around here, too.”

Adonides hummed. “She must have been a skilled diabolist,” he conceded. “But she would not have been able to bypass the defenses Mephistopheles has put up to keep unauthorized portals from opening anywhere in Cania, after your little heist.”

“And you can just teleport anywhere in Cania?” Astarion asked, gaining himself a half-smile.

“Obviously,” was the response. Durge could have sworn it made Raphael’s eye twitch a little. Absolutely everything about the Steward of Cania seemed to anger him, and while they didn’t know their history, they had to admit it was rather amusing to watch. 

“I certainly hope your gelugons were up to the task. If they didn’t kill the guards--”

“Oh, they were never to kill them - only to put them to sleep for a time.”

“... I beg your pardon?”

“They are capable spellcasters, and will modify their memories just enough that they’ll never know anything was amiss.”

Raphael raised an eyebrow. “Why go through the trouble? As soon as they realize my ascended half is gone, they will know--”

“The goal is that they don’t realize. Not for a while, at any rate.”

The raised eyebrow turned into a scowl, and Raphael stopped walking. “You said my other half is loose in the vaults. How could they possibly not notice its disappearance?”

Adonides paused in the middle of the icy tunnel, and turned. Another smile, smug as they come. “Because as far as they will be aware, the ascended fiend will still be patrolling those rooms. Won’t it, Haarlep?”

Several pairs of eyes turned to Haarlep in dawning comprehension, and they didn’t reply with words: they just grinned and, in shimmer, shed their current glamor from something much bigger, much more fearsome, wreathed in flames - Raphael’s ascended form. They spread out their arms and seemed to bow those bestial skulls, a glint of amusement into each eye, before the form shimmered again and they changed into the less dramatic form of a harvest devil. 

Astarion tilted his head to one side. “... Huh. Say, isn’t it true that to take on any form, first you have to… you know…”

Haarlep grinned. It was an eloquent enough reply. 

“What--”

“Ah.”

“Oh gods, it’s in my brain now…”

“Don’t think I needed to know this--”

As their companions reacted with varying degrees of disbelief and clear desire to scrub the mental image from their minds - Halsin, notably, only raised both eyebrows - Raphael’s skin reddened. Whether it was in embarrassment or anger, it was hard to say. But when he spoke, he did sound angry. 

“Absolutely not. You are not going to replace my other half in there.”

“Oh come now, my little brat. I’m the only one who can pull it off. I mean, your other half is bigger now than it used to be, so I’ll need to make a few little changes to the glamor - make it taller, add flames, a bit more fearsome. But it’s nothing I cannot do. Like with the muscles in the usual glamor, we both know your stomach was never that chiseled--”

“You do not use hellfire! You’ll be found out before you know it, and it will be your death!”

A smile. “Ah, but no one dares come close enough to take a very good look, believe me. No one will notice--”

“Mephistopheles would know in a heartbeat!”

That was true, of course. The trick may fool most, but certainly not the Lord of the Eighth. To that, Haarlep had no reply if not a long, serious look. 

“... He does not come here often. It should buy us enough time.”

“Enough time, they say! Enough time for what? No amount of time will give me any chance--”

“Enough,” Adonides hissed, and grasped Raphael’s wrist. “Since you speak of time, let me remind you that we have little of it. We need to keep moving, the entrance is close.”

“I won’t allow Haarlep--”

“You don’t own them anymore. It’s out of your hands. Now come, and make your blasted soul whole again. Is it or is it not what you want?”

It was, of course. Raphael glared, but said nothing. In snatched his arm from Adonides’ grasp and scoffed. “Very well. We’ll discuss this later, ” he snapped, and walked off with quick steps, the scowl still on his face.

***

“They are coming.”

The gelugon’s grumble caused Dalah to look up from the motionless form of several sleeping guards - none had the time to realize what was happening or raise the alarm - and turn back to follow its gaze. Strictly speaking, she did not have a heart or any organ for that matter; she had no blood for it to pump. She was soul and ether, given corporeal form.

It did not keep her from feeling as though a heart was beating in her throat, as though something was squeezing her insides. She heard them too, the sound of several footsteps on the ice - down at the corridor, coming closer, just around the bend--

Dalah recognized him at a glance, of course. She’d seen that human face of his months earlier for the first and last time in a darkened cell, covered in blood and grime, features partly hidden by the straps of the scold’s bridle; even then, she had seen the resemblance. 

Seeing that same face so clearly now was surreal in a way she couldn’t put into words even if anyone had asked her to. Of the many eerie things she had seen in Cania, nothing quite compared to recognizing her own features on the face of a stranger. 

Adonides was speaking, asking something to one of the gelugons, but Dalah couldn’t grasp a single word. She barely even took notice of the mortals who’d arrived with him; even as they stood a short distance away they seemed blurred, as though underwater. Raphael was the only one she could see clearly; she could see him pause mid-stride, still, stare back at her with a blank expression. His lips parted a moment as though to speak, but he said nothing; he just pressed his lips together, and seemed to focus on something above her shoulder. 

He has my eyes, too.

Others were talking, but the voices were warbled and that odd sort of silence around her seemed to stretch on - the grip in her chest gone, leaving behind only numbness and the realization she did not know what to do. Should she greet him? Run to him? Try to embrace him? She could see herself doing none of those things; her feet remained glued to the spot, her arms limp down her sides. She had not been prepared for this. How could she have been?

She had never been anybody’s mother, and she did not know that man.

“We should go. We don’t have much time,” Adonides spoke up suddenly, right by her, and Dalah recoiled. The sensation of being underwater disappeared, and she blinked. Everything seemed to move as normal again; she could see the faces of the odd assortment of people who had arrived with her-- with Raphael. She saw him recoil a moment, too, before he cleared his throat and turned his gaze away from her. 

“... Yes. No reason to dither,” he said, and stepped past her without another word. 

Dalah breathed out, and she found she breathed easier without those eyes on her. She faintly heard a woman’s voice muttering something - “What the fuck?” - but what caused her to look up was a man’s voice, calling out a name and title she had not heard in the same sentence in more than eighteen centuries. 

“You’re Lady Starspire, I imagine?” The man who’d spoken had horns like a devil or a tiefling, but was clearly neither. He was smiling, and bowed his head slightly. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Wyll Ravengard. These are--”

The sound of a spell being muttered, and finally heavy doors made entirely of thick ice groaned open. Dalah turned to see the way to the vault was clear; inside, Israfel waited to be whole again. It was with a stab of something that she could not quite define that she knew she was going to miss him… but it didn’t matter, did it? 

To be halved was to suffer. She could not allow it to continue one more moment; she only hoped that the rejoining wouldn’t hurt him, either.

“... Introductions will have to wait,” she heard her own voice saying, and she stepped through the doors without a further word.

***

It was surreal how, all of a sudden, Durge could remember it clearly - stepping into that same vault, looking at those same walls of ice, at the same priceless artifacts. 

There had been only the two of them, then, a stealth mission - although of course they had brought weapons. The Chosen of Bhaal had the Chosen of Bane’s gift, a poisoned dagger he’d named Stillmaker-- Astarion has it now, I couldn't bear to look at it and now I know why -- at their belt, but there had been no need to use it. 

Gortash had seemed to know all about Mephistopheles’ vaults; he knew precisely where to go, how to get in and out. He seemed to know nearly everything there was to know about the Hells, and the dragonborn had wondered about that - even asked aloud, once. 

Gortash had only looked at him with a sharp smile and dark, dark eyes.

“Oh,” he’d said, “you could say I had a teacher of all things hellish. A horrid master, but an effective teacher. I hope to thank him for his many lessons, one day, the way he deserves.”

He’d meant Raphael; Durge knew it now. It was so obvious, looking back - thinking of Gortash’s ties to the hells, of the fact he sought to become Baldur’s Gate archduke rather than a grand duke like others before him - a hellish title. They could only imagine what such lessons may have been, and how painful they were; beatings from a cranky rock gnome were likely not the worst of what may befall a mortal growing up in the House of Hope.

Part of them had wanted to ask Raphael about it, but what good would it do? Gortash was dead, his soul in Bane’s domain. Whatever they had shared had died along with the Chosen of Bhaal they had been, lost along with memories they would never get back. They did not need to ask to know that Gortash had suffered, and that Raphael was guilty. 

But the monster they had been had committed such horrors, too, bathed in so much blood; they had no right to hold the past against Raphael when they left their own behind along with thousands of dead bodies. They were not who they were then, and neither was Raphael - for now. But soon he’d be whole again, and then… they’d see. 

That thought brought forth a sense of dread that Durge did their best to shake off, and they forced themself to focus on the present. 

“All right,” Haarlep was saying, something about the cheeriness of their voice sounding more than a little forced. “I brought the little brat. Where’s the big one?”

They had paused in the middle of a huge room whose walls were lined with cases, containing more scrolls and books than Durge could recall ever seeing all at once. At the forefront of their small group - the gelugons had stayed behind, to keep an eye out of anyone coming, keep the guards asleep, and cast a silencing spell on the doors just in case - Raphael’s mother nodded towards an archway, which led deeper into the vaults.

“Touching an artifact without authorization is the quickest way to summon him--”

“We cannot risk triggering any defensive spells or alarms,” Adonides spoke quickly, as though terrified they’d collectively run off to each grab and artifact. Which, to be fair, Astarion may have been about to do, if the slightly disappointed expression on his face was anything to go by. 

Dalah Starspire nodded. “Of course. He’s usually deeper in the vaults - this way.”

As they walked from one room to the other, among more priceless artifacts than they could count, Durge cast a glance towards Raphael. He looked paler than usual, but his jaw was set, a look of grim determination on his face. If he had doubts, if he too wondered whether he would be the same as he’d always been once whole again - if he even wanted that - he clearly had shoved them in the back of his mind. 

And that, Durge knew, was the only way forward. Two halves of the same soul would always cry out for one another, and it was time for those cries to end.

***

“No no no no no no! Stop it! STOP! LEAVE HIM ALONE!” 

Hope’s screams were music to Raphael’s ears - not as sweet as her surrender would have been, but music nonetheless, even coming from a mere projection of her. A projection he’d caught in the foyer, where Enver had gone to sulk behind a soul column after a particularly nasty encounter with his keeper. Looking back, he should have known Hope would want to try and comfort the boy. And what a delight it was, to find a brand new horror for her to endure! 

Raphael laughed and turned to Hope, holding the choking boy by the throat as he uselessly tried to claw at his hand. “Leave him alone? But he ought to be punished for his crime.” 

“What crime! He didn’t do anything--”

“Foolishness is a crime, and seeking comfort in the Hells - why, it’s the epitome of foolishness, as is trying to give it. You should have kept to your prison, my dearest Hope.”

“He’s just a child!” she cried while the boy kept choking, his bruised face wet with tears.

“Yes, he is a child with much yet to learn. Unlike you, who have no such excuse and yet refuse to learn a thing.” Raphael tore his gaze from Hope to look back at Enver. Had he looked so pathetic, he wondered distantly, when his sire held him by the neck to pour hellfire down his throat? The memory made him scowl, but he summoned no hellfire. It’d kill the child and he had no reason to do so; he only intended to ensure his lessons stuck. He smiled. 

“Oh, Hope. I’m feeling generous, you know? I’m willing to let him go unscathed, this time.

Hope shook her head, wildly, erratically. “No. Liar. Liar liar liar. You won’t.”

“You wound me, Hope.” Raphael sighed, and lifted a claw to the boy’s face, gouging a small but deep cut on his chin. The boy cried out, Hope let out a pained noise as though she too had been hurt, and Raphael smiled. “It is a genuine offer. I’ll let him go back to his duties with no further consequences for his idiocy,  right now, if you just swear to serve me.”

“I…” Hope stared, helpless, gaze shifting from Raphael’s calm smile to the boy’d tearful eyes. It was a cruel demand, of course: an eternity of servitude, the end of all hope, in exchange for temporary respite. He didn’t truly expect her to take it, but it did not matter. 

Right now, it was not her spirit he was looking to crush. As she fell silent, Raphael chuckled, and turned the boy so that he’d look at Hope’s projection. “See? All you get are empty words.”

Hope shook her head, trembling. Even as a projection, Raphael could see translucent tears welling up in her eyes. “Monster,” she choked, and he only laughed. 

“Oh, I am not the one putting my pride before an innocent child,” he said. He held up a hand, summoning fire at his fingertips. “This is your lesson for the day, child - don’t trust her, or anyone. Don’t bother relying on hope, here or anywhere. It always burns you in the end.”

Enver screamed, and Hope let out a keening noise, holding onto her head, fingers clutching at her hair just as Raphael spoke again. “You stay right where you are, Hope, and watch what you’ve done. The moment your projection disappears is the moment this boy dies.”

She cried out in dismay, echoing her boy’s screams - but stay and watch she did, and Enver Gortash did not die that day. Nor the day after that, or the one afterwards. For a few years he endured, he learned, he grew - and eventually, at Nubaldin’s first slip-up, he fled. Raphael raged, and the idiot who let him get away suffered the consequences… yet, for a time, that was all. He did not try too hard to find him, to reclaim the soul he owned.

By the time Enver Gortash became prominent enough for Raphael to notice him, it was too late: he’d given that soul to Bane, and the God of Tyranny would keep it beyond his reach.

He watched his rise; he saw that he had learned, after all… and when he used that knowledge to steal the Crown of Karsus from Mephisto, taking it from his vaults - something no fiend beholden to hellish laws could do - Raphael almost laughed himself to tears. In the end, he had been of use indeed: the Crown was back into play - the chance he’d been waiting for. 

Raphael seized it knowing full well that, from that moment on, there could be no turning back.

***

“... He’s coming.”

Dalah’s words rang out in the large, partly empty room, causing everyone to stop in their tracks. Most of their companions lingered at the back, as they’d agreed; ready to intervene and  really rather hoping they wouldn’t have to. 

Raphael stepped slowly towards the middle of the room, not far from where Haarlep stood. He could sense his other half’s presence, Haarlep suspected; they’d expected him to be elated at the notion of being so close to his goal, but that did not seem to be the case. 

The deeper they walked into the vaults, the more they could see Raphael was getting increasingly ashen-face. As much as he tried to play it down, Haarlep knew all was not well with him. They had known him for too long not to take notice. “So, how do you do it anyway?” Haarlep asked once Raphael came to a stop by their side, only a short distance away from his mortal mother. “Glue your soul back together, I mean.”

“I need to claim it back. That is all.”

Something about his words caused Dalah to shift; that didn’t escape Haarlep, either. They could guess, and quite easily, whose words were likely echoing in her mind right now. Mephistopheles was rather infamous for that refrain - this too I claim as mine.

“... Would Isr-- would he not need to be willing?” Dalah spoke to him, for the first time since their arrival. Raphael’s posture stiffened before he turned. It seemed to take some effort; it took her just as much obvious effort to meet his gaze. What a lovely family reunion, that.

“I see no reason why it wouldn’t be. We’re meant to be one,” he replied, curtly. He seemed about to add something, then he trailed off and lifted his head sharply to look at the doorway. 

They heard the ascended fiend long before they saw it. Its presence had been barely perceptible at first; a tremor of the ground, only if one paid close attention. Then they could hear the steps, the clacking of claws on ice, coming closer… and, of course, the fierce crackling of fire. That caused Raphael to recoil, and he suddenly reached up for the locket at his neck. He took it off, alongside the lyre at his back, and cleared his throat before he turned to Dalah. He did not meet her gaze, but held both out to her. 

“... There will be fire, I imagine. These belong to you.”

“What…?” Dalah looked down, and her mouth trembled a moment before she reached out to take both objects with shaky hands. She stared at the lyre, ran a thumb over the locket. “These things-- how--?” There was a noise, close by - more crackling of fire and a distressed cry, clicking noises in the backs of misshapen skulls.

It caused her to trail off, and Raphael to look back at Haarlep. There was a look of urgency to his face as he spoke, quickly, quietly enough not to be heard by their companions at the back. 

“You asked me a question, back in Avernus. I did not know the answer then. I do not know the answer now. All I know is that I-- I hope it doesn’t.”

“Do you think this will end, once you’re no longer human?” 

“I don’t know. It might.”

Haarlep had a sudden and very bothersome impulse to take Raphael in their arms and flee, so that they may never have to find out. But in the end they only cradled the back of his head with a hand and pulled him closer. A kiss would have been nice, but that would be a rather inconvenient time for anyone to become aroused. So they leaned their forehead against his, and spoke in a whisper. “I will still be yours. And you’ll always be mine.”

Raphael exhaled, and said nothing - but he did hold onto Haarlep’s wrist for a moment before he pulled away, and finally turned to face the rest of him. Standing in the doorway, wreathed in hellfire and towering over all of them, the ascended fiend remained still for a few long moments, no more than a few heartbeats. It stared through too many eyes, unmoving, as Raphael gestured for both his mother and Haarlep to move back. He stepped forward, slowly. 

Then the creature roared, and charged.

***

Adonides hadn’t been exaggerating when he said Mephistopheles had done something drastic to Raphael’s fiend half.

What precisely had been done, Durge did not know; Gale may have been able to tell them, perhaps, what kind of arcane magic Mephistopheles may have used to make the creature so much more powerful than when they’d last faced it. It was larger than before and impervious to most magic, the hellfire burning more fiercely and for longer. 

Capable of maintaining its ascended state with no need of souls to feed it, the fiend before them was almost as formidable an opponent as Zariel had been - and trying to subdue it without dying in the process proved to be a challenge.

“Perhaps it’s drawing power from the essence of Baator itself,” Halsin cried out, ducking behind the stone wall he’d created just on time to avoid a burning ray of hellfire. It shattered the wall but spared him, for the time being. 

Somewhere on Durge’s left, Astarion groaned. “Oh gods, you sound like Gale. Is knowing that going to help us? At all?” he screamed, and muttered a curse when Wyll shook his head, and the fiend deflected the arrow he’d let loose with a swipe of its claws. “Oh, of course not. Didn’t think so. Well then, how about we keep the academic discussion for when we’re not fighting for our lives?”

In truth, it wasn’t them that Raphael’s other half was trying to get to; they were just in the way. In the inferno of flames and frustrated roars, it was clear that the creature was focusing most of its efforts against its own human half. 

Out of the corner of their eye Durge could see Raphael’s mother standing at the far end of the room, trembling in every limb and clutching the lyre and locket, staring at the chaos before her as though in a daze as one half of her son tried to destroy the other. Adonides had said she could hold some sway over the creature, but she had been petrified on the spot and Durge could hardly blame her. How terrifying could that all be, for a mere soul whose existence could be snuffed out in an instant, with a single blow?

“Hey! Smart guy! Is this normal?” Karlach was crying out, only for Adonides to shake his head. He was wide-eyed, no trace of his usually collected demeanor left. 

“I-- Mephisto must have given it orders to destroy its other half!”

“He can do that?”

“If he can do-- he’s the Lord of the Eighth! Of course he can do that!”

“And you didn’t fucking think of it??”

“COULD WE MAYHAPS DISCUSS THIS LATER?”

Durge muttered a curse and tried to move forward, but hellfire had turned the ice floor into a slurry, and it made movement difficult; tempestuous flight did help them move quickly, at least, but that was where the good news ended. With water on the ground, any attempt at calling down lighting would hit everyone in the room - so a good chunk of their usual spells were out of the question.

And Raphael wasn’t doing that great, either. The spells and blows they all landed on the creature seemed to barely faze it, did nothing to break its single-minded focus to destroy its human half. And it had come close, damn it all, horribly close; none of Raphael’s spells could slow it down. The only thing that had stopped it so far had been a last-second interventions, such as Wyll taking Raphael out of reach with Dimension Door or Halsin freezing the slurry around the fiend’s legs with a Cone of Cold, blocking it in place for a few precious moments while Raphael misty-stepped to another spot. 

But the fiend still went after him with fire and claws, relentless. They could not keep going like that for long; something had to give, and fast. Durge ground their teeth, landed next to Raphael, and held up a hand. “Veni et iuva me!”

The Globe of Invulnerability shimmered into being just on time: the fiend’s claws came down on Raphael only to skitter against the surface of the Globe, leaving its target unscathed. As it screamed in frustration, Durge reached with one hand to steady Raphael and looked at him in the eye. He was panting, wide-eyed, hair disheveled; the look of someone who had been taken entirely by surprise, and didn’t know what to do.

Durge squeezed his shoulder. “Stay here. We’ll subdue it and then… then we’ll see.”

There were more roars, more slashes of claws against the globe shielding Raphael, more hellfire burning uselessly on its surface - but none of it could breach it, as long as Durge maintained concentration. And for a time they did, while their companions struck out at the fiend with magic and blades, trying to beat it back, to exhaust it into submission. 

Later, Durge would very much feel like a fool for letting all that savage rage make them forget one thing - that no matter its form, they were dealing with Raphael. That was no mindless monster: it was intelligent enough to recognize the spell, and to act accordingly. Durge would never forget the look of pure hatred it gave them before it turned and suddenly, with a shriek, unleashed a wave of hellfire on their companions… and most of all, against Astarion.

He was fast, but not fast enough to avoid all of it, and the scream of pain that followed would echo in Durge’s nightmares for a long time to come. He staggered back holding a carbonized stump of what had been his arm, the dagger he’d been holding - I have a gift for you, Gortash had said - clattering onto the burning ground alongside the remains of his arm, ruined beyond repair. Astarion almost fell, too, but Halsin caught him, immediately grasping his blackened stump to look, to help, to heal.

The agony on Astarion’s face was enough to make Durge forget all caution, and try to rush past their opponent, to him and Halsin - and it was a mistake, exactly what the fiend had been counting on them to make. Down came the claw indeed and, in a fiery explosion of pain, Durge was thrown onto the ground, onto the fire, all wind knocked out of their lungs and concentration dispelled, alongside the globe.

“Shit-- Raphael! Duck!”

He did duck, and one of Karlach’s handaxes flew past him, right into the central skull of the ascended fiend. It cracked bone and caused it to shriek, staggering back; it was immediately followed by one of Wyll’s blasts. Raphael took advantage of the few moments of respite to turn invisible, disappearing from sight. 

The fiend’s bellow of fury seemed to make the entire room shake; Durge struggled to lift themself, and only realized Halsin was by their side when he pulled them up, muttering a healing spell. They groaned. “Astarion--”

“He’s fine. He’ll be out of the fight for a while, but his arm will regenerate.”

“... Heh. Useful trick.”

“One I’d hoped I wouldn’t need again, but needs must when the devil--”

“Raphael!”

It was Raphael’s own voice to cry out the name, and yet it was not; Raphael’s voice, through Haarlep’s lips. Durge looked up to see that they had taken Raphael’s form, and stood before the fiend with their hands held up, palms upwards. They looked everything like Raphael now, not just a younger version… and incredibly, somehow, it caused the creature to pause. The roars died down and it stared, transfixed, at what had been their form, too. 

It was surreal how quickly it happened, how the entire room went from utter chaos to stillness and silence in the span of just moments. Haarlep stood still, holding the ascended fiend’s gaze, and smiled. “You know this is you, don’t you? This is how it’s meant to be. So be a good boy, and stop being so difficult.”

Again, there was no sound but the cracking of fire. The creature took a few hesitant steps towards Haarlep - toward Raphael’s form - and let out a low, mournful noise. Haarlep smiled from Raphael’s face. “Come, Raphael. It’s time to be whole aga--”

They didn’t get to finish the sentence; suddenly, the fiend shook its massive heads and shrieked as the flames it was wreathed in crackled louder, burned brighter. It was a scream of pain rather than fury, the yelp of a dog at the yank of a leash - Mephistopheles’ order, overriding all thought - and suddenly the fiend’s claws came down across Haarlep’s chest. They fell back with a cry, lifted their hands to shield themself from the next blow--

“Stop!”

Raphael’s hands grasped the fiend’s horns before it could strike out at the incubus again. It caused the shriek to trail off in a surprised, metallic clacking noise as its human half shimmered out of invisibility, face grimacing only inches from its skulls. Flames licked at Raphael’s arms, singed his hair, but he did not pull away. Durge tried to stand, but Raphael shot him a glance - do not interfere - before turning back to his fiendish half.

“Enough. Whatever Mephistopheles has done, I don’t care. You can fight it off. You must. Look at me.”

A whine, deep within the creature’s throats, and for a moment it faltered, the flames burning low. It tried to pull away, as though it was the one getting burned, but Raphael refused to let up. It was then that it struck Durge for the first time: even as a human, Raphael could withstand hellfire. But he could not withstand the sudden thrust of clawed hands into his stomach, tearing through skin and muscle, causing his innards to spill out onto the burning ground and sizzle. Raphael cried out, blood streaming from his mouth, but he did not fall. 

He held onto the horns of his ascended half, stared straight into its eyes. His own eyes seemed to burn. “Is this what-- you want?” he choked. “To be his puppet? Half of nothing?”

There was a bellowing cry of agony, dying down to a whine. When Raphael’s knees gave in, he did not let go of the creature’s horns, and it crouched to the ground with him with another low, pitiful sound. There were no words, but Durge understood what it meant. They all did.

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

Of course it felt like it couldn’t. Defying the will of one’s master was near impossible when that master was also one’s maker, one’s father. To be chosen by them was to be owned, and their will was smothering, inescapable as the tide. 

Be my Chosen once more, had been Bhaal’s will. And Durge had never found it in themself to confess that for a moment - one single instant of madness, standing before his sister’s corpse in the Temple of Bhaal - they’d wanted to accept, to give in. To be what their rancid blood told them they were, follow the path set for them and make their father proud, and never again think back in regret to what they had done. 

Had they been alone, they may have faltered… but they were not alone. They had--

“... Israfel.”

Dalah’s voice was soft, trembling through tears, but it seemed to echo across the room and it caused everyone to wince and turn. They’d almost forgotten she was even there, helpless and small as she was, cowering in a corner while watching a fight unfold. 

As Raphael’s gaze grew unfocused, his blood spreading onto the floor and putting out the last lingering flames, his fiendish half - Israfel - looked up, towards his mother. There was a low, strangled noise; Dalah met that gaze, and her eyes welled up. She was still clutching the lyre and the locket to her chest. 

“Please, listen to me,” she choked out. “Mephisto claimed so much. I couldn’t fight it - Rahirek couldn't stop it - but you must. Please. Don’t let him take you too.”

There was a groan, and the last of Raphael’s strength failed him. He lost his grip on the horns, and fell to the ground - or he could have, if not for the fact the ascended fiend reached out to grasp him, to hold him up. A chirring noise, and Raphael blinked his eyes open. He looked at the misshapen skulls of his ascended half and smiled weakly through bloody teeth. 

“Israfel,” he gargled through his own blood. “It’s been… a long time… since I heard…”

That was it, the last of his strength; his eyes slipped shut, his head rolled back. He went limp, and Israfel screamed - a continuous, piercing cry that stabbed into Durge’s head like shards of ice. The hellfire burned hotter, brighter; it engulfed both halves of the same devil, turning the center of the room into a raging inferno. They all stumbled back, away from flames bright enough to blind, hot enough to melt metal. They closed their eyes, and turned away. 

Later, Durge would struggle to tell how much time passed; it was probably moments, yet it felt like hours. Roaring flames, unbearable heat, the screams of the damned - Hell in every way. Until at last the scream died down, and so did the roar of the fire. When Durge opened their eyes to take in the scene, it was all over. 

The fire was gone; the ice floor was now a steaming puddle of bloodied water. And there in the middle of it, limp and still on his side in a fetal position, eyes shut and all clothing burned off, was a familiar cambion. 

Raphael had told them that Mephistopheles had tortured him, before spitting his soul in two; that he’d snapped his horns like twigs, ripped off his wings. But now, with the two halves of him rejoined in hellfire, that damage had been undone. He looked whole, truly, in every way.

“... Well. Looks like him all right,” Astarion muttered, once again with both arms, coming to stand right next to them. Durge grasped his hand, turned to ask him how he was - when suddenly, Raphael moved. His back shuddered in a deep breath, not quite a gasp but close enough; his wings quivered a moment before he unfolded them and shifted with a groan.

He lifted his head off the floor, bracing himself with an elbow, and opened his eyes. He seemed dazed for a moment, as though he was not sure how he’d come to be there… but that too was over quickly. He blinked and his gaze was sharp, alert, aware. The devil they knew… but did they, really? Was it the devil they had known the previous year, trying to get his hands on the Crown of Karsus? Was it still the one they’d learned to know so recently? 

Or was it someone else entirely, a devil they did not, in fact, know at all - someone new entirely, forged in ruinous hellfire? Durge wanted to call out, ached to, but they kept silent and waited to see what would happen, what he would do. They waited to see if the part of Raphael that had so grown on them in those past months was still there in any measure, or if it had been smothered once more. 

Somewhere in the back of their mind they heard it again, Wither’s voice echoing in the temple of Bhaal when it had been their turn to defy the will of their own liege and father.

There is a new part of you that hath grown during thy travels. 

Please, they thought. Please, don’t be gone.

Another groan, a deep breath, and Raphael pushed himself a little further, palms to the ground, not quite up to his knees but almost. His gaze ran over them, his expression unreadable… although Durge could have sworn his nose scrunched up in distaste for an instant when he saw Adonides. 

Finally, his eyes paused on the small human form that was still clutching the lyre and locket, a hand halfway to her mouth. His features twisted, and his mouth trembled. He worked his jaw before he rasped out one word, little more than a hoarse whisper.

“... Mother,” he called.

If he planned on saying anything else, he never got the chance. With a sharp intake of breath, Dalah Starspire dropped both objects to the ground and ran past everyone else, to the center of the room, in the bloody water, to Raphael. She did not hesitate, did not say anything: she just fell on her knees before her son, threw her arms around his neck, and burst into tears.

With a shaky exhale, Raphael turned his head and squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into the embrace, burrowing his face against her shoulder. One of his hands hovered behind her back, as though he hesitated to pull her closer. She showed no such hesitation; she held on tight, a hand reaching up to cradle his head.

“Down came the claw,” he murmured, his voice still rough, and his mother choked a laugh against his neck. 

“Yes,” she sniffled, and pulled away just enough to kiss the side of his head, where his skin met the horn. Tears dripped down her face, into the bloody puddle, but she smiled. Tiny as she was against his bulk, it looked as though she was rocking him. “And that, love was that.”

***

[Back to Chapter 33]

[On to Chapter 35]

[Back to Start]

[azems-familiar]

🌀 - anything you want to write

I chose the prompt "underneath" for this one! Have some unpolished phone fic written on the plane.

Beneath the waters of the Tempest, off the coast of Kholusia, there is a city.

The city was not always there; for millennia it was nothing more than brine-soaked ruins steadfastly refusing to decay, a salt-stained memory of the perfect world ripped away from those too feeble to even comprehend what they had lost. Even when Emet-Selch first came to the First to oversee its Rejoining, he had left the ruins alone, too pained by the haunted blue-lit emptiness of them and the horrors the shattered buildings evoked to spend much time on their broad streets. He can already see the burning skies and endless beasts when he closes his eyes to sleep - he hadn't needed another reminder in his unfortunate waking hours.

But.

A hundred years passes as slowly for him as for any mortal, when he is denied the respite of dreaming, and Elidibus had been very clear that they could afford no more mistakes such as the one that felled Lahabrea. Forbidden from sleep, bound to the First by necessity lest an unexpected threat rise and undo even a fraction of what his order has so carefully wrought (and between the Oracle of Light and the Crystal Exarch, ensconced in his tower, the odds of that happening are not as slim as he wishes they were), the aching hollowness of the loss in his chest and the emptiness of his loneliness - an agony he hates to acknowledge, but cannot escape, especially in the quiet moments where this shattered shard breathes softly around him and he can do nothing but stare at the orange crystal in his palm and yearn - eventually drive him to seek a comfort greater than the distraction his enemy brings him.

And thus he retreats to the depths, where the biting pain of the eternal Light recedes to a more manageable irritation, like pinpricks across his skin instead of a searing burn without relief.

Recreating the city is a complicated endeavor, and one he spends nearly an entire week focused exclusively on - he starts from the Capitol and works his way out, weaving spell after spell through the fabric of reality until crumbling edifices twist themselves into the glittering buildings he remembers from his home, towering spirals adorned with crystal, the residential and academic and government districts and beyond spinning into being under the unbending pressure of his will, as heavy and immutable as the seas above. Another spell holds the waters back, allowing him to easily drag his mortal body down these reconstructed streets paved in white and blue. He brings the flora he remembers from his happiest days to life next, trees with soft lavender leaves and thick grasses and blossoming wildflowers, scattering them across the parks and planters and gardens, and he tries very hard not to let his mind wander to memories of Hythlodaeus braiding wide-petaled golden blossoms into Seleukos's hair as he watches those same flowers sprout up to carpet a field at his feet.

Amaurot is as beautiful as it was at its height, when he has finished, spreading for malms and malms into the depths, a jewel more stunning than any star or stone could ever be - beautiful, and empty. Emet-Selch paces from the Capitol to the resurrected memory of the downtown apartment he and his family had lived in and listens to his simulated breeze rustle the leaves of his carefully-constructed trees, little different in appearance to the sprawling forests of Lakeland above, and the loneliness cuts through his ribs like a knife, sharper than shattered glass.

Thirteen thousand years of duty and the lives of every single one of his people are a leaden weight on his shoulders, crushing him as easily as a fallen leaf in his palm, and the silence of his city is nothing but another burden to bear in the face of his memories.

He is tired.

The realization that he could create arcane entities in the form of those he has lost - bringing to life his memories in truth - is a slow and not entirely comfortable one. Such an act would be the height of disrespect - to populate a city with those that have returned to the star or given themselves in sacrifice, to assuage his own loneliness with soulless constructs of people - but for all that he knows he would have rejected it out of hand several millennia ago, now he cannot banish the thought so easily. It takes root in the back of his mind like a particularly persistent weed, and every time he retreats from the wasted world above, it gnaws at him, the temptation digging into his resolve with barbed thorns.

Doesn't he want to see his people again, even if only in faded facsimile?

He is Emet-Selch, keeper of the Underworld and the dead. It would be a simple matter, really, in truth, and surely if the truth of his actions ever reach the Convocation, or his people once Amaurot has been restored in truth, they will understand. He just- he needs a reminder of what all this endless toil and sorrow is for, a reminder of why he cannot simply lie down and sleep regardless of what Elidibus has said. A reminder of the tangible side to the duty he bears, the conviction he must not let waver. He cannot, will not falter now, no matter the weariness that claws at his bones.

And thus- he will make these no-longer-ruins a monument to the past only he can recall, a snapshot of a star whole and at peace and untouched by grief and calamity. He will bring his memories to life, here in this place he would give anything to save, and by Zodiark’s grace, he will find the strength to continue on, step after exhausting, inevitable step.

(Beneath the waters of the Tempest, off the coast of Kholusia, there is a city.

It is not alive, merely a ghost of eons past with a faded heartbeat that is naught but a mimicry of a half-torn memory bleeding longing and nostalgia. But if one squints just right and does not look for souls, one can pretend the bustle through its streets is true, that the melancholic glow of Light through deep waves is twilight.

And for Emet-Selch, that is enough.)

[ichangedmymind2]

an actual defense of Lily Orchard or how I came to be radicalized by an unjust society and modern internet culture

I don't know how to phrase it other than, like, I think the more I learn about this person it makes me reflect on how the internet itself has kind of forgotten its 'roots'. Well, perhaps more that the internet was kind of the native lands of the weirdest strangest nerd people you can imagine. Or at least, in a sense, anyone could pitch their flag and exist in a way that made sense to them, even if it was just a temporary fantasy. A way to manifest a better version of someone you cannot really be in the real world. A place of direct expression and creativity and communication. If we are to foster justice in a society of idiosyncratic individuals its kind of hard to do so when we retroactively remove humanity from those who have no recourse to defend themselves. I see how Lily Orchard is treated and I can't help but feel that everybody keeps making the same mistake regarding this person, victims or otherwise. If this is to have begun with Lily being abused as a child and functionally never 'growing up' as a person as a result, why should we as people continue the cycle of abuse? Its kind of disgusting to me how so many people so desperately want Lily to react, to conform with a level of 'awareness' or 'shame' about anything and everything they did or didn't do. Why? If they are that same little girl who was abused by an adult, someone she thought she could trust, why should she trust anyone ever again? No really, why? Do you actually care about Lily? You talk of people as cursed artifacts that can be whisked away with a few magic words. Secured from the hands of the unscrupulous, a threat to liberate others from. When Hot Allostaic Load was written, it was perhaps the greatest most pertinent piece of writing in regards to how trans women are treated even in the most safest accepting of places. How they are desperately unsafe even in those places, how fast they can be othered and demonized and sacrificed to sate the bizarre insecurities of anyone else. And I feel like, even as old as the writing is, it still holds as the penultimate example of how trans annihilation is a woeful default setting in 'society' in so many aspects. From how people perceive trans women, even children, as threats. How people project the worst aspects of themselves upon them with an uncanny instantaneous retroactive fervor.

Why wouldn't I be skeptical of how Lily Orchard is treated as a trans woman. it gets to be so much, I have to wonder if tolerance and empathy isn't a real thing at all. Just a cute gratuity, a turn of phrase. A way to express some kind of understanding but without the comprehension required of it.

Heaven help you if you are a total fuckup and you hurt people because it is by your nature to fuckup. Is this world not for you? Are you not allowed the dignity of humanity but to be cast as some kind of primordial wretched beast that has to be shunned lest the contamination spread? What about that phrase, it holds true: Hurt People, Hurt People. Lily Orchard is the poster child for this in the most literal sense. She was hurt, but then we have the gall to act as if its something uniquely devastating or strange when she hurts others? Well, I apologize, but I can't just do it anymore. I feel bad if people are hurt, but after a certain point folks have to stop expecting more from a person who never really shown any inclination toward anything but toxic interpersonal interactions due to trauma. You all want something from this person, and all you ever get is the worst of yourself. I keep seeing this time and time again. It doesn't matter who it is. When someone is subject of such intense stigma, even if its supposedly warranted. So what? They have no meaningful power. They cannot actually hurt you in any way that they've already been. Its all a mass delusion. There is nothing here, just a weird nerdy little girl who was abused a child and the consequences from that. Exercised again and again and again and again and again.

[ragingbookdragon]

Loyalty To The Ones Remaining

Haldir of Lothlórien x Reader

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Y'know what's sad? A reader who was a part of the Erebor company and still grieves :) -Thorne

**********************************************************************

It had been quite some time since she’d been anywhere near the woods of Lórien, but even now, it still felt as old and wise as it had been. She stood near the front of the Fellowship, keeping eye on the front as she and Legolas had the best eyes, his elvish, and hers beast. She listened sharply to the woods around them, unable to not listen to Gimli warning the hobbits about the apparent witch in the woods.

“She is not a witch, Gimli,” she muttered, hands subconsciously tightening around the dwarven sword and shield in her grip; she could feel eyes on her, like she was no longer the predator but the prey. “She is a lady of great power, but also on the side of good.”

“And how would you know?”

“Because I’ve met her,” she retorted, falling back to comfort Frodo when she’d sensed a change in his emotional state. “Or have you forgotten I knew your father and his company of dwarves from Erebor?”

Gimli huffed. “Well,” he drawled. “Here’s one dwarf she won’t ensnare so easily.” He sounded so sure of himself that it had her rolling her eyes. “I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox! Hoh,” he gasped, coming face to face with multiple pointed arrows.

She readied herself, as did all of their companions when bows and swords were pointed in their face, but she could easily tell they were outnumbered. They were surrounded and a single elf stepped between two armed ones, goading, “The dwarf breathes so loud we could’ve shot him in the dark.”

Gimli glared, a grunt escaping him as he sneered at the elf and she took a single step forward, ignoring the way the arrows followed her, and stood in front of the dwarf, meeting the elf head on. “I would strongly advise you to put your arms away lest you make a mistake you cannot undo, Marchwarden,” she warned.

The elf’s eyes narrowed. “A single woman amongst halflings, humans, and dwarves. What a sight.”

Her eyes shifted from her normal color to a deep gold, and she bared the corner of her teeth as she snarled, a guttural echo that shook the very ground and the trees around them, bones creaking from the force.

“I am not simply a woman,” she growled at him. “And if you attack a single one of my companions, I will rip your throat out. With my teeth,” her point accentuated with a long, protruding canine.

Even that had the elf tipping his head backwards in a show of submission and before she could even say another word, Aragorn stepped forward and greeted him. She, as she did best, held back with the others, rounding up the hobbits to stand behind her, and she glowered at every single elf she crossed with those slit golden eyes until the hair stood on the back of their neck and their skin crawled—it also didn’t help that she continued to growl in the back of her throat as a warning to them—and they sauntered off from her.

***

They were under the veil of night when they finally arrived onto the platform that the elves of Lórien had brought them to. She had ignored the hobbit’s idle chatter, and complaints about supper long enough before she had turned her eyes onto them and snarled, causing them to shut their mouths and meekly walk forward with their heads down. She listened to the elf she’d threatened greet the few of them, that was until Gimli insulted him in Khuzdul which had her barking a laugh and agreeing with him in his tongue.

“That was not so courteous,” Aragorn snapped at the two and she harrumphed as she shut her mouth and planted her sword in the platform, leaning over to rest her forearms on the pommel.

“If they get offended, then perhaps, they should take a look into their own superiority complex,” she shot back, glaring at the elf. “Not like they don’t have a track record of being major assholes when it comes to lesser races.”

The elf ignored it, turning his gaze to Frodo, voice lowering as he said, “You bring great evil with you. You can go no further.”

She felt the eyes of their party fall on Frodo, and her heart ached, for Gandalf, but for him as well. It wasn’t Frodo’s fault, and the ring wasn’t his either, but she knew as well that anger and grief turned many relationships sour. As they all found seats, waiting for Aragorn to hopefully convince the elf to let them into Lórien, she stood against the pillar that Frodo sat against, her arms crossed over her chest as she perused their surroundings.

“Gandalf’s death was not in vain,” Boromir murmured to Frodo, and she looked down at the hobbit. “Nor would he have you give up hope. You carry a heavy burden Frodo. Don’t carry the weight of the dead.”

She hummed in agreement. “Life is hard enough with the challenges we face, Frodo. Though the death of our friends and family is great, it is not our jobs to carry their souls too.” She reached down and gently brushed a hand in his hair. “I have known Gandalf longer than you have been alive. Know that he couldn’t bear to have you give this up solely because he is gone. He put his faith in you—believe in his conviction.”

As she finished, the elf walked up again and she turned her body to him, protecting Frodo once more, though he ignored her and stared straight at him. “You will follow me.”

***

They reached the heart of the Lórien, and she was even impressed at the sight. While she had met Galadriel before, she’d never set foot into the forests, save the outskirts. She poked her head between Legolas’ and the other elf’s, remarking, “Now that, is a forest within a forest.”

Legolas nodded mutely, always seemingly forgetting how beautiful the Lady of Light’s kingdom was. The other elf, on the other hand, made a face and shifted away from her.

She was rather amazed as they entered the forest, only for it to seem as if covered in night. “This is weird,” she noted. “It’s daylight outside and in here it’s night. That’s weird. And I do not like it.”

Gimli snorted and elbowed her in the hip. “You would not do well underground.”

“Hey, I lived in Erebor for a week after we took it back from Smaug,” she shot back. “I’ll have you know I did great.”

“Did you descend into the mines?”

She pursed her lips. “…No…”

He simply chortled in return when a light filled the front of the stairs and their heads snapped to them, watching as the Lord and Lady descended the steps, the light dimming to reveal them.

She immediately knelt, bowing her head low before them. “Lady Galadriel,” she murmured, and when she felt a warmth in her mind, like the elven woman was speaking to her, only then did she lift her head, catching deep blue eyes with a hidden smile.

“The enemy knows you have entered here,” Lord Celeborn stated, his gaze heavy on them like that of a parent. “What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Nine that are here yet ten there were set out from Rivendell,” he said, looking over them. “Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar.”

Lady Galadriel’s soft voice filled the air as she lamented almost in disbelief, “Gandalf the grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen to shadow.”

A weight pressed on them all and she nodded her head. “Yes, my Lady. Gandalf, he…”

Legolas looked up at Galadriel and finished for her. “He was taken by both shadow and flame. A balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria.”

Even she couldn’t help but put a hand on Gimli’s shoulder, she knew he felt hurt too. “Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not know his full purpose.” Gimli sighed heavily, feeling disheartened. “Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart Gimli, son of Glóin. For in the world has grown full of peril, and in all lands, love is now mingled with grief.” Her final word hit as she looked to Boromir who had suddenly felt a flightiness in his chest, eyes wide with nervousness, who eventually turned away.

Celeborn looked at them. “What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost.”

“The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all…yet hope remains while the company is true.” Galadriel’s eyes fell on Sam, and she smiled. “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil.” The Lady of Light’s demeanor was always one of peacefulness. “Tonight, you will sleep in peace.”

As the elves began to lead them, a voice called for her. “Wait a moment, you who walks in the steps of wolves.”

She knew then that Lady Galadriel had called to her, and she stopped while the others kept going, but cast glances back to her before disappearing down the spiraled steps; she turned, walking back over to the two before bowing once more. “My Lady Galadriel, my Lord Celeborn.” She looked back up. “It has been many a years since we have spoken.”

Galadriel looked her over. “I seem to recall you swearing never to adventure after the death of Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the King Under the Mountain.”

Her expression deadened and she dropped her gaze, letting out a sigh as she answered, “Gandalf called upon me in Wintergrave, my Lady. I knew he would not have done so if he didn’t think I would be needed.”

“It has taken a great deal of strength and passing of grief for you to put on the armor and weaponry forged by his hand again.”

Suddenly the steel and golden armor that Thorin had made, the sword and shield in her hand, became so heavy and she lowered her head, tears falling down her cheeks as she lamented, “My heart still burns with sorrow, my Lady. For I lost the greatest friend I had ever known that day.”

“And yet your loyalty to the ones still living remains.” Galadriel’s hand touched her cheek, a soft thumb brushing away the tears and she looked up in shock, her tears drying as a lightness filled her heart. “Love is a powerful emotion. To feel so deeply for a friend even after all this time, to show that love in following him again, you prove that you are still the same woman with the same beholden soul you have always had.” She smiled at her, taking her hand back. “Do not forget that beneath your hardened exterior there was once a great and respected woman.”

She opened her mouth, shut it, then swallowed thickly and nodded. “Y—yes, My Lady.”

Lady Galadriel gazed at her a moment longer, then looked over at the elf still standing beside them. “Haldir, take her to the baths. I will have a dress sent over for her to wear.”

Haldir bowed his head and gestured for her to follow, and as they departed from them, she murmured, “Haldir…I apologize for my previous actions.”

The elf smiled a bit and nodded his head. “I have not taken offense.” He glanced over at her. “You were a part of the original company to retake Erebor?”

She nodded. “I was.”

“The Battle of the Five Armies is still a story told to this day. I imagine it was quite a fight for the enemy when you charged them.”

Her laugh was hearty, and she agreed. “The only giant wolflike beings they’ve ever seen were wargs. I imagine seeing a great wolf on two legs was enough to strike them dead before I even touched them.”

Haldir led her to the bathing area that was now closed off specially for her and he nodded. “I take my leave of you here. An attendant will bring you another garment in some time.”

As he turned, she couldn’t help but reach out and grab his arm. “Haldir…I thank you for your kindness. It was not earned, but you have bestowed it regardless.”

He paused, looked back at her with a brow arched and retorted, “Well, we do have to be superiorly kind to the other races.” He tipped his head and disappeared, leaving her to laugh in a surprised but definitely amused fashion.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Endure I: Dolls

Series Synopsis: You and Eren Jaeger have been best friends since the age of two, but the two of you are destined for an inevitable tragedy. The world you have been born into is cruel; it is one where friends are traitors and enemies are allies, one where you find yourself doubting everything you've ever known. In this life, mistakes are fatal, and you must be careful, lest you make one too many.

Chapter Synopsis: You befriend the doctor’s son, Eren Jaeger.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader, Armin Arlert x

Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.1k

Content Warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, sexual abuse (non-explicit), major character death, angst, original characters included

A/N: I caved. Despite the length, despite the way it makes me cringe because I wrote it two and a half years ago…endure is coming to tumblr. It may take me a bit to get the whole thing up so please be patient!!

Your first memory was that of the doctor’s son saying your name. He had tugged at your hair and yanked at your clothes, crawling around you as you sat, waiting for him to stop. He did not stop, but he laughed in childish delight at the fact that you didn’t complain, not once.

“Y/N!” he chortled, poking you in the arm repeatedly. You watched him curiously, and when he began to tickle you in the side, you squealed in protest.

“Eren!”

You don’t remember what happened after that. According to your parents, Dr. Jaeger had come and rescued you from Eren’s clutches, having finished his check up on your then-pregnant mother. Apparently, the small boy had cried the entire way home. Nobody ever told you if you cried. You probably hadn’t.

The doctor and his son had continued to visit you for many months to come. You and Eren became friends of a sort, though it was mostly because you were often kicked out of the room while the adults talked.

“I’m turning three soon,” Eren informed you proudly as you sat on the floor of your bedroom, playing with dolls. He was always happy to play dolls with you.

“Three?” you said, your eyes wide with wonder. “That’s really old!”

“I know. I’m going to have a big birthday party. You can come if you want. My mom is going to make cake, and it’s going to be chocolate, and there’s going to be so many people, but don’t worry! I’ll make sure to sit with you, too,” he assured you.

“Yay! Can I bring my dolls?” you said. He thought about this for a moment before frowning.

“Well, I guess so...but don’t expect everyone to want to play with you. Big kids don’t play with dolls. It’s not mat-ure. That means grown up,” he said, pronouncing the adult word meticulously.

“That’s a really cool word, Eren! Where’d you learn it?” you said.

“My dad taught me! He has this ginormous book that’s like this big with all of these words in it,” he said, holding his arms out to show you how big the book was. You gasped.

“That’s huge! And I guess I’ll bring my dolls, but we don’t have to play if they're not grown up. What do big kids do?” you said, furrowing your brow and staring forlornly at your dolls. Eren shrugged.

“Dunno. We can play with dolls for now, since you like them,” he said.

“Okay! Ready, Sir Eren? You have to come rescue me from the evil dragon!” you said, pointing at your princess doll, which was sitting next to your dog. Merry, the small black poodle, did not even flinch, taking the role of ‘evil dragon’ with grace.

“I’m coming! Out of the way, evil beast! I have to save Princess Y/N!” Eren declared, making his doll fly over to yours. Merry paused in licking his paw to give the boy a disdainful look. Eren made sword fighting noises as he chased Merry away before picking up your doll and giving it to you.

“Princess Y/N, I have defeated the evil dragon and saved you,” he said. You clutched the doll to your chest and gazed up at him with a bright grin.

“Thanks, Sir Eren! I think we should have a party now,” you said.

“With cake?” he said.

“I don’t think we have cake,” you said sadly.

“Let’s go outside and make some!” he said excitedly, dragging you after him before you could protest, not that you would have. Eren was dynamic and impulsive, lighting up the very air around him with electricity, sweeping you up in the current. What could you do but follow?

“With what?” you said. He narrowed his eyes, searching for something and then clapping when he found it.

“Mud pies! We can’t eat them, but they’ll be good for a doll party,” he said, marching over to a puddle and sitting next to it. You did the same, looking at him in confusion.

“How do you make mud pies?” you said, crossing your legs and leaning over slightly to watch his hands as he packed mud into round shapes before handing one to you.

“It’s really easy. You just pick up the mud and roll it around in your hands until it makes a solid shape, and ta-da! It’s a mud pie!” he said. You inspected the mud pie he had given to you before gingerly placing it next to you and replicating his motions.

“Is this good?” you said, showing him one. He held it up to his face and scrutinized it before nodding.

“Nice job! It’s almost as good as mine. But mine are better,” he bragged.

“Oh,” you said, crestfallen, “Sorry.”

“Yours are good too,” he offered when he saw that you were sad, “I just have a lot of practice.”

“Really? You think they’re good?” you said, smiling. He smiled back.

“Yeah! You’re in second place for goodness!” he said. You thought about this for a moment.

“But first is the worst and second is the best. So am I the best?” you said. Eren was perplexed for a minute, mulling this over.

“Let’s just have our party,” he said.

“I forgot about that! Good idea,” you said, bringing out your dolls and arranging them so they were sitting next to each other. Eren began to set up the mud pies, making sure each doll had its own.

“It’s because I’m older than you. It means I’m smarter and know better,” he informed you seriously.

“Will I ever be older than you?” you asked. He scowled.

“No! I’ll always be older forever and ever!” he said, crossing his arms.

“But I wanna be older!” you said. “My papa said we have to take turns doing things, so that means I have to get a turn being older!”

“You can’t. I’m almost three years old, remember? So I’m automatically older than you until you’re three, but then I’ll already be three, see? That means I’ll always be older, so we can’t take turns,” he explained. That was just about the wisest thing you had ever heard in your two years of living, from your nearly-three year old friend, so you begrudgingly accepted it.

“Okay,” you said, dragging out the last syllable of the word, “Can we have our celebration party now?”

“It’s all ready. Let’s have a toast!” Eren said.

“Toast? I like toast. My mamma makes it for breakfast sometimes,” you said.

“No, not that kind of toast,” he said.

“There’s another kind of toast?” you said cluelessly. No wonder Eren was older than you. He knew so much about everything.

“My parents do it with their friends during their fancy big people parties! They like raise their glasses and make a speech to ded-i-cate the party to someone,” he said. That sounded really official, and you knew you had to try it.

“Eren, we don’t have glasses,” you said.

“We can pretend! Okay, I want to make a toast to Princess Y/N!” he said, lifting his imaginary glass in the air and then tilting it back to drink it.

“Why?” you said. He held up a finger to indicate that he was still swallowing before nodding.

“Because! What kind of knight would I be without a princess to rescue?” he said.

“That’s true. Yeah, I guess you’re right! I want to make toast —”

“Make a toast,” Eren corrected you. You pouted.

“Sorry. I want to make a toast to Sir Eren for rescuing me from the evil dragon!” you said, miming the act of drinking the way your friend had.

“Cheers!” he said, and you knocked your invisible glasses together before taking another sip each. Then you burst into laughter, your dolls sitting quietly with their rapidly-crumbling mud pies. The air smelled like flowers and the scorching sun, and the grass would surely stain your clothes, but at the present moment, neither of you cared much, wrapped up in your own world.

“Ready to go, Eren?” Dr. Jaeger said as the adults rejoined you, watching your tea party fondly. You paused to look up at them, and Eren’s face fell when he realized he had to leave in the middle of your celebration.

“Dad, we were having a party because I saved Princess Y/N from the dragon! Can’t we leave in five minutes?” he whined. Dr. Jaeger seemed amused but shook his head.

“Sorry, kiddo, but I’ve got other patients to look at. Why don’t you invite Y/N to your birthday party this weekend? Then you can see each other and finish your party with actual cake instead of mud pies,” he said, patting Eren on the head.

“I already invited her and she said yes!” Eren said.

“Did her parents say yes?” Dr. Jaeger said. You and Eren exchanged looks of horror. The thought of your parents refusing had not even crossed either of your minds, and you immediately turned to your father and mother, who were watching you with soft smiles on their faces.

“Please please please can I go?” you begged them. They looked at each other before nodding.

“Sure, as long as you help with the chores this week,” your father said.

“Yay! Did you hear, Eren, I’m coming to your birthday party?” you said in excitement. He smiled at you, a genuine, wide, bright smile.

“I can’t wait! Bye-bye Y/N! I’ll see you soon!” he said as his father picked him up and carried him off to their carriage. You waved frantically as they faded from view, and from his spot hanging upside down off of his father’s shoulder, Eren did the same, his lopsided grin visible until the moment he disappeared from your sight.

“Seems like you and the Jaeger boy have become friends,” your mother said as you gathered your dolls and flounced inside the house.

“Eren?” you checked.

“That’s right. Do you like him?” your father said, ruffling your hair affectionately. Merry, who had returned from wherever Eren had chased him off to, wagged his tail at you, probably hoping that you had some scraps of food to share. You showed him your empty hands, and he sniffed them before sighing and leaving again.

“Yeah, Eren’s really nice! He’s so smart, he knows these really super big huge words like mature and toast, but not breakfast toast, fancy party toast. I can’t wait until I’m three so I can be like him!” you said.

“Well, you only have to wait a few more months, and then you’ll both be three! And you’ll have a little baby brother, too,” your mother said, rubbing her belly idly. You peered at her stomach.

“Is my baby brother in there?” you said. She nodded.

“He is,” she said gently. You furrowed your brow.

“Hi, baby brother! How are you doing? BABY BROTHER!” you shouted when he didn’t answer. You had the feeling you weren’t going to like this ‘baby brother’ of yours. He was rather rude.

“He’s too little, Y/N. He can’t hear you yet,” your father said, stopping you from banging on your mother’s stomach to get your baby brother’s attention. You froze and gazed up at him.

“Should I be louder?” you said. Your father laughed and shook his head.

“No, I don’t think that’ll help. You have to be gentle and talk quietly to him. You’re his older sister, so you have to take care of him. Does that make sense?” he said. Older. You were older than your baby brother, just like Eren was older than you. That meant you were smarter and knew better than him, forever and ever. Okay, maybe this whole baby brother concept wouldn’t be too bad.

“Do you think he’ll play dolls with me and Eren?” you said. Having a third person meant you could have even more complicated stories. If your baby brother played, you and Eren might even finally be able to act out your ‘three little pigs’ storyline. You had done your best, but it was really hard for Eren to be both the big bad wolf and all three pigs.

“Not for a little bit, but maybe eventually. You’ll have to ask him,” your mother said, sitting down laboriously. Your father placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as she let out a deep sigh.

“Does he have a name yet?” you said.

“We aren’t really sure yet. What are your thoughts?” your father said. You sat on the floor to think about this. Merry crawled into your lap and began licking your face. You pushed him away in disgust before giving in.

“Umm...dunno!” you said, realizing you really didn’t care what your baby brother was named. Merry continued to lick you.

“Oh, don’t let him do that. Merry, off,” your mother said, whistling sharply. Merry got off of you and obediently joined your mother on the couch, thankfully leaving you alone.

“Let’s get you in the bath. You’re covered in mud and dog spit,” your father said, a smile on his face showing that he was not at all angry. You did not whine much, trudging up the stairs to the bathroom to get washed up.

Once you were clean and tucked into bed, Merry rejoined you, curling up at the foot of your bed as was his custom.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” your father whispered, blowing out the candle and closing the door after him. You did not respond, already fast asleep.

The entire rest of the week, you did your best to help your parents with the chores around the house, doing whatever you could to ensure that you would be able to go to Eren’s birthday party. Finally, it was the day of the celebration, but instead of being excited, you were horrified. You had no idea what to get the boy as a present.

“I’m sure he won’t even notice that you didn’t get him anything,” your mother consoled you as you bawled into Merry’s fur about your lack of a gift for your friend.

“B-but it’s his birthday! I have to get him something!” you wailed. Your father wordlessly handed you a tissue, and you noisily blew your nose before handing the paper back to him.

“Don’t worry too much. You and Eren are friends, right? He’ll like whatever you give him, don’t worry,” he said.

Your father had a point, actually. Eren seemed pretty happy-go-lucky. Maybe you shouldn’t focus so much on getting him something that you weren’t sure he’d like and instead give him something of your own that you already liked. That way he would be certain to like it.

Yes, this was a course of action that you were perfectly pleased to follow. Abruptly stopping your tantrum, you shot upstairs, digging through your closet until you could find something of yours he might like.

You didn’t think he would like any of your dresses or skirts, and you doubted they would fit him anyways. Your shoes wouldn’t go on his feet, either, so all of your clothes were out. What, then? What did you own that Eren might want to keep as a present?

Your dolls! You frowned, for you didn’t want to part with them, but it would make your friend happy. They were the perfect gift! You gathered them into a bag and, with one final, sad look at them, closed it and rejoined your parents in the living room.

“What have you got there?” your mother said.

“My dolls! They’re going to be Eren’s birthday present,” you explained.

“All of them?” your father checked. You nodded slowly.

“Yup! He’s three years old, papa, that’s really big! He needs a big present. I think he will let me keep playing with them anyways, so it’s okay,” you said with a shrug. Your parents exchanged amused looks before smiling at each other, a secret smile that meant they were hiding something from you.

“If you’re sure, dear. You had best be off now, or you’ll be late,” your mother said, straightening your navy skirt for you so you looked nice for your visit to the Jaegers’. You beamed at her.

“Thanks! See you soon, mamma!” you said, waving at her as you and your father began to walk down the cobblestone road. You and Eren lived fairly close to each other, it seemed; his house was only a ten minute walk from your own. You skipped ahead the whole way. It was a beautiful day to have a birthday, with the sun shining and a soft breeze threading its fingers through your hair.

“Ay, lassie, now where are you off to?” a Garrison officer you recognized to be Mr. Hannes said jovially when you passed by him.

“It’s Eren’s birthday party! He’s three now, can you believe it?” you said.

“Is that so? Tell the little bugger I said happy birthday, then, won’t you?” Mr. Hannes said.

“Sure, Mr. Hannes! Did y’know I’m going to be three in a few months and then I’ll have a baby brother?” you said. Mr. Hannes put his cup down and squatted so that your faces were level and you could have a proper conversation.

“Little Y/N’s going to be a big sister? This I’ve gotta see!” he said.

“That’s right! I’m going to be older and smarter than your baby brother, just like Eren is older and smarter than me,” you said seriously. Mr. Hannes let out a booming laugh.

“Ah, lassie, I’d wager you’re quite a bit smarter than that crazy boy,” he said.

“But Eren knows so many big words,” you said, unsure of how it was even possible for you to be smarter than your slightly older friend.

“Yeah? He sure has big opinions, I’ll give him that. I swear, everything about that kid is too big for these walls. If one thing’s for certain, it’s that he’s going to change things around here, mark my words. Now, will it be for the better? Well, I just don’t know,” Mr. Hannes said, shaking his head.

“Huh?” you said.

“By the Walls, Hannes, what have you been putting in your drinks? They’re making you all philosophical! Let poor little Y/N go to her party,” a Garrison captain named Mr. Orion said.

“Right! Have fun, lassie!” Mr. Hannes said, patting you on the head affectionately. Your mind was already racing with thoughts of Eren’s birthday celebration and the promised chocolate cake, so you did not pay much attention to the two men, leaving them behind without pause.

“Are you going to knock?” your father said as you stood, petrified, in front of the Jaeger house’s door. What if Eren didn’t want to see you? What if it wasn’t actually his birthday? What if it was his birthday, but he had forgotten? There were so many ways this could go wrong that you were beginning to regret coming.

Thankfully, it seemed that somebody had heard your approach, as the door was opened by a woman with long dark hair in a loose ponytail and warm, light brown eyes. She seemed surprised to see you standing in your nicest clothes, your hair tied back with a white ribbon and a bag in your tiny hands.

“Hello, darling. Is something the matter?” she said, her soft and lovely voice soothing. You blushed lightly.

“Isn’t today Eren’s birthday party?” you said shyly. Her face cleared, and she nodded.

“Oh, yes, it is, but you’re the only one that’s come. I’m afraid Eren’s in his room, a little bit upset. You can go talk to him if you want,” she said, waving at your father, who had begun to make his way back home with a promise to come get you after dinner.

“Which room is his?” you said, looking around at all of the doors, not wanting to walk in on something you shouldn’t see.

“That one, all the way at the end of the hallway. Tell me if he’s being rude, okay? Being upset isn’t a free pass to be a jerk,” Mrs. Jaeger said.

“Okay, Mrs. Jaeger, but Eren is really nice! He won’t be rude!” you said confidently, trotting down the hall to knock on the door.

“Go away,” a muffled grumble came through the thick wood. Well, never mind. You used your free hand to knock again.

“I said go away, mom! I don’t want to talk about it!” he shouted.

“Your mom said you’re not allowed to be mean to me!” you shouted back. There was a thump, and then the door opened, revealing a sullen looking Eren.

“I thought you were my mom,” he muttered.

“But I’m not your mom. I’m Y/N,” you said.

“Yeah, obviously. What are you doing here?” he said. You presented him with the bag of dolls.

“It’s your birthday! Happy birthday!” you said. He looked in the bag before scoffing.

“Dolls? Really?” he said, tossing the bag haphazardly backwards. You felt tears well up in your eyes. How could he have treated your beloved dolls so carelessly?

“They were my favorites. I thought you would like them,” you sniffed. Eren seemed alarmed at your sudden crying fit, and he darted back into his room, neatly organizing the dolls at record speed.

“Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry, I really really like them!” he assured you. Your tears instantly dried as you gave him a wavering smile.

“Really?” you said.

“Uh-huh. They’re really cool, but now you won’t have any,” he said.

“Oh. I guess not,” you said. Eren crossed his arms and scowled as he attempted to puzzle out a solution to the now-evident problem. Finally, he smiled as he arrived upon the answer.

“I’ll let you borrow them! That way you can still use them!” he said. You gasped. Eren was, without a doubt, a genius.

“Thank you so much! But why were you angry earlier?” you said, remembering his angry mood when he had opened the door. Eren frowned, a storm cloud settling on his features again.

“Nobody came to my party,” he said.

“I came,” you said.

“Oh yeah,” he said. You both were silent for a second, digesting this latest development. You were here. He was here. It might not have been what he had had in mind, but it was enough.

Leaning over to grab a piece of your hair, Eren pulled on it to get your attention. “Let’s go ask my mom for cake. I’ll bet she’ll give us the entire thing if we ask really nicely.”

“Is it chocolate?” you said.

“Think so. It smelled like chocolate in the house earlier, anyways, so I hope it is,” Eren said as the two of you joined his mother in the kitchen, where she was fussing about some pots and pans. Noticing you, she smiled.

“Hey, you guys! I see you got Eren to leave his room, Y/N. Thank you for that. Now, I heard you were promised cake,” Mrs. Jaeger said. Eren began bouncing up and down in place, and you nodded.

“Yeah, Eren said it was chocolate,” you said.

“Is it? Is it is it is it? Mom! I gotta know!” Eren whined. You were only marginally more composed. In truth, you were as eager as he was to have cake, but you were well aware of the fact that you were a guest in the Jaeger house; what’s more, this was your first visit there. It would not do for you to act spoiled and ruin your chances of being invited back.

“Yes, Eren, it is. Here you go. Make a wish!” she said, lighting the candles on top of the cake. Eren screwed his eyes shut before blowing out all of the candles in one breath.

“What did you wish for?” you said curiously.

“For us to always be friends and never be apart!” Eren declared.

“You’re not supposed to tell me! That ruins it!” you said, scandalized at the fact that he had fallen for it so easily. The worst part was that you wanted his wish to come true, too, but it couldn’t when he had said it out loud.

“Then why’d you ask?” he said, equally outraged.

“It seemed like the right thing to do!” you said.

“I’m sure you can make your wish come true even though you said it aloud,” Mrs. Jaeger intervened before you could continue to fight.

“I guess so. Okay, Eren, pinky swear that we’ll be friends forever?” you said, reaching your arm over the cake to interlock your pinky fingers.

“Yeah, okay, pinky swear,” he said as you shook your hands up and down to seal the deal.

“You guys got covered in icing!” Mrs. Jaeger cried out in dismay. You and Eren looked down at the now-ruined cake sheepishly.

“Sorry, mom,” he said.

“I’m really sorry,” you said.

“I’m sorrier!” Eren said.

“I’m the sorriest!” you shot back.

“Well I’m — I'm — I don’t know! More sorry than you!” he said.

“I’m the most sorry in the entire world!” you said.

“I’m the most sorry in the entire universe, times infinity!” he said. This made you stop.

“Wait, Eren, what’s infinity?” you said. Mrs. Jaeger had given up on admonishing you, taking a rag and wiping down your arms and attempting to salvage the cake.

“The biggest number ever!” he said, accepting a slightly squashed piece of cake from his mother gratefully. You did the same, keeping your eyes on Eren, fascinated with this new concept of infinity.

“Like bigger than one hundred?” you said. He nodded.

“Yeah, bigger than a hundred.”

“Bigger than a thousand?”

“Mhm, yeah.”

“Bigger than a million?”

“Yes!”

“What? That’s impossible!” you said. Eren frowned at you.

“Ask my mom. Mom, isn’t infinity the biggest number ever, even more than a million?” he said. Mrs. Jaeger hummed noncommittally.

“Yes, dear, it is. Now eat your cake,” she said, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek, “I can’t believe you’re three! My little baby’s growing up so much.”

“Soon I’ll be a grown up and I’ll live in a house far away, all by myself. Well, Y/N, you can come too because you came to my party and gave me your dolls,” he said magnanimously.

“Okay!” you agreed, trying to lick the icing off of your nose but failing miserably. Giving Mrs. Jaeger a doleful stare, you reached for the napkin she held in her hand. She laughed and cleaned your face for you.

“There you go. Was the cake good?” she said.

“It was the best. Will you make it for my birthday?” you said.

“If you want. Are you guys done?” she said, collecting your dirty dishes and putting them in the sink. You and Eren exchanged glances before nodding determinedly.

“Let’s go to my room and play!” Eren said, grabbing your hand and pulling you after him. You stumbled but followed as he slammed the door behind you, sitting criss-cross on the floor and giving you an expectant look. You sat across from him, cocking your head.

“What do you wanna do?” you said.

“Dunno. What do you wanna do?” he said. You shrugged.

“It’s your birthday, so you get to pick,” you said.

“Let’s play kickball,” he said.

“In your room?” you said, looking around in alarm. What if you knocked something over and it broke? Then you’d be in trouble. Eren clicked his tongue in irritation.

“No, silly Y/N, outside. But the ball is in my room so that nobody steals it, so we have to bring it outside,” he said, reaching up and grabbing a ball from his shelf and handing it to you. You looked it over before deeming it worthy to play with.

When you got outside, you were faced with two problems. One, there was not a field large enough to play a proper game of kickball nearby. Two, even if there was, you did not have enough people to make teams.

“Now what?” Eren groaned.

“We can just pass the ball back and forth,” you offered, kicking it towards him. He trapped it with his foot and kicked it forwards a few steps. You ran to catch up with him and accept his pass.

“Don’t you find this boring?” Eren said a few minutes later. You shook your head.

“No, not really. Why, are you bored?” you said.

“Maybe a little bit. How aren’t you? We’re just doing the same thing over and over, like animals or something,” he scoffed.

“I don’t mind. I like spending time with you! Even if it’s not particularly exciting sometimes. You’re really exciting all on your own,” you said. Eren kicked the ball at you particularly hard, and it far overshot you, hitting a different kid about your age straight in the back of the head. When he turned, you recognized him to be the son of one of your neighbors, Oskar Zimmerman.

“Hey, Oskar! Can you give us our ball back?” you said. He looked surprised to see you standing with Eren.

“Y/N?” he called. You gave him a thumbs up.

“Yeah, it’s me! Our mothers sometimes have tea together, remember? Now can you pass us our ball or not?” you said.

“This ball? Like the one that hit me in the head?” he said.

“I guess so? Sorry about that,” you said. He looked conflicted before tossing it gently towards you.

“There you go. See you around, Y/N and, uh...what’s your name again?” he said to Eren.

“This is —” you began to introduce Eren, who scoffed and yanked you away by the arm, leaving poor Oskar confused.

“Forget about it,” he muttered.

“You aren’t going to make more friends by not meeting people, you know,” you said, holding the ball under your arm and marching behind Eren.

“I don’t want to be friends with Oskar. He’s a stupid meanie,” he said.

“Eren! Those are bad words!” you reproached. You had been told to never use words like ‘stupid’ or ‘mean’ when talking about people. It wasn’t nice.

“I don’t care. It’s true,” he said. You were torn. After all, Oskar had never been anything but nice to you, yet at the same time, Eren was your friend.

“Wait. Eren, are we friends?” you said, realizing it had never been made official. All thoughts of Oskar were forgotten as you were preoccupied with this bigger problem.

“Yeah, ’course we are,” he said as you placed the ball back on the ground and began to idly dribble it back and forth. Eren smiled cheekily and stole the ball from you.

“...best friends?” you said. You had never had a best friend before, but if anybody deserved the designation, it was Eren. He did not even have to think about it.

“Best friends, times infinity!” he said, offering you the ball again. You accepted it with a firm nod.

“Good. You won’t, like, forget about me, right? When you’re older than me?” you said.

“Duh, I’m already older than you, and I haven’t forgotten about you yet, have I?”

“Oh, yeah. Wanna go play with our dolls?”

“Sure. I’ll race you back home.”

“Hey! You have to wait and say start if you’re going to race, cheater!” you shouted as he ran away, snickering.

Being around Eren was like staring at the sun. Everything about him, his presence and personality and the way he smiled, was burned into your retinas, so that when you closed your eyes, all you could see was him. He was blinding and bright, and yet for all his radiance, he never made you seem any dimmer. His warmth only illuminated you further, his golden glow bringing out the pink in your cheeks and the subtle hues in your irises.

Your birthday came and went. You were three now, the same as Eren. He had not been able to come to your party, disappointing both of you immensely. Oskar had been there, as well as a little blond boy named Armin whose grandfather worked with your father. Armin didn’t like you, or at least you didn’t think he did. He kept to himself, flinching whenever someone came near, so you and the other children left him mostly alone, besides the five minutes you spoke to him to give him some cake.

It had only been a week since you had turned three when your mother went into labor. It was late at night, and you were supposed to be asleep, but your father was running around the house frantically, and the doctor was there, his even tone doing nothing to calm anybody. So you sat in your dark room on your bed, hugging your knees to your chest, wishing it would all be over soon.

The door opened a crack, a beam of brilliant light shining, revealing the doctor’s son standing there, his jade eyes shimmering with childish wisdom.

“What’s going on, Eren?” you said quietly, for if anybody knew what was happening, it was him. He crept into your room and sat beside you on your bed, staring out the window at the moon.

“Your baby brother is being born,” he said.

“Is it cool?” you said. He wrinkled his nose.

“Nah, it’s pretty gross,” he said.

“Yucky,” you said.

“Super yucky,” he affirmed, “The moon is really pretty though.”

“I like the sun more,” you said.

“But it’s so hot. The moon is better,” he said.

“I guess you’re right, but I still like the sun more. That’s okay though! We can still be best friends, right?” you said. Eren laughed.

“Yeah, we can. Oh, hey, I made you something. For your birthday. Since I missed it,” he said, fishing around in his pocket before pulling something out and handing it to you. It was a tiny origami puppy, with a face drawn clumsily on it in black marker. You accepted it gingerly and placed it on your nightstand, taking care not to damage it in any way. Then you turned back and hugged him tightly.

“It’s so cute! It looks like Merry!” you said. Eren delightedly hugged you back.

“That’s what I was basing it off of!” he said.

“It’s so good! I love it! Thank you! I’m glad we’re best friends,” you said. You were interrupted by a scream from downstairs, and you gave Eren a wide eyed look. He seemed unaffected.

“It’s okay. Giving birth is really painful. Your mom’s fine,” he assured you, allowing you to find refuge in his embrace.

“Are you sure?” you said.

“Yup. My dad’s a really good doctor. She’ll be okay, and then you’ll have a baby brother...and then I won’t have to come visit you anymore,” he said, his tone dropping when he realized that once your mother wasn’t pregnant, his father wouldn’t have an excuse to come to your house, thereby ending your friendship.

“Yes you will! You promised to let me borrow your dolls to play, so we have to still visit each other all of the time. You can meet my baby brother, too!” you said.

“That’s true,” he said with a yawn. You mirrored his actions, and he immediately stopped to glare at you.

“Stop copying me!” he whined.

“I’m not!” you said.

“You are! I yawned and then you yawned! You’re copying!” he said.

“’M just tired!” you said, yawning again.

“Then go to sleep,” he said.

“You can sleep with me! Like a sleepover!” you said, taken with your own brilliance and immediately burrowing under your covers.

“I guess dad will take a while...so sure! Okay, goodnight!” he said, diving in next to you and pulling the blankets up over your shoulders.

Your mother’s cries of pain continued through the night until your brother was finally, blessedly brought into this world, though her shouts were quickly replaced with the baby’s wailing. Your parents and Dr. Jaeger were all exhausted as they began to take care of the small child, but upstairs, you and Eren slept soundly. Eren was far too used to his father’s line of work to even care, and you were convinced that your best friend, in all of his seemingly omnipotent glory, would somehow ensure that your mother and baby brother would be okay.

They were both fine. Eren had been right. Well, of course he had been right. He was older and smarter than you. You could trust him. You did trust him.

You shouldn’t have trusted him, but that was something you would not find out for many years to come.

[smh-yoon]

FOUR. love like yours - kakashi hatake

༻ ∘ ❀ ∘ ༺

"Hime, if you don't mind me asking, why did we come here in the first place?" Hideki was glancing around, a look of suspicion in his eye. He hadn't trusted the Leaf in his last life, either. 

"I learned about this village overhearing my father, and reading his books in the study." A lie. Her father had been careful to censor their use of media and literature, lest they find anything about the horrific history of her family, which she wouldn't discover until her brother reappeared in a few years and told her everything he knew. 

"Don't you know what they say about this village? That the Nine-Tailed beast destroyed it six years ago?" Hideki was at least smart enough to lower his voice, bound to be glared at by some of the villagers who were going about their everyday lives.

They were getting enough stares as it was, foreigners in the village escorted by a shinobi to the Hokage Tower. They were to meet with Lord Third, Hiruzen Sarutobi, before they would be allowed to roam in the village. Luckily, it seemed as though he wasn't busy at the moment, and could speak with them shortly. 

Just a few minutes passed by when the large doors creaked open, and though it was just a blur, Hime had caught sight of silver hair and a dog mask, accompanied by a young man with a fox mask. With wide eyes, Hime could only blink as they were escorted into the large room. 

Kneeling before the Hokage felt much more natural than she had intended it to seem, Kiyoko and Hideki getting on both knees like they had done as civilians, but Hime was on one knee, fist pressed to the floor. Realizing her mistake, she corrected her position. Thankfully no one mentioned it, but Lord Third puffed smoke from his pipe as he looked at her. 

"What brings you here strangers, to Konohagakure?" Standing and stepping forward just a few steps, Hime bowed her head and lifted it again to look at him as she spoke. 

"My name is Hime Sakanoue, from the Land of Ice. This is Hideki Kaboyashi from the Land of Lightening, just outside Kumogakure, and Kiyoko Tsubano, from the Land of Ice as well." Both of her companions lowered their heads at their introductions, still kneeled on the floor behind her. 

Hiruzen puffed another cloud of smoke from his pipe and hummed, stroking his beard inquisitively. "Sakanoue, you say? And where, from the Land of Ice, did you reside?"

Gritting her teeth, Hime tried to keep her composure. Clearly he knew who she was, but he hadn't known why she was here, and he needed to be unsuspicious of the two of them if she was to carry out with her new life. "Korigakure*, Lord Hokage. I am the daughter of Isamu Sakanoue, heir to the legacy as head merchant to the Emperor, Lord Hokage." 

Hideki gasped quietly, looking up with wide eyes that made Hime clench her jaw. He wouldn't have known this for another few years, when she decided to explain why she had left her family. Ultimately, it would be his deciding factor in proposing to her.

"Interesting," Hiruzen let out a small chuckle, motioning the shinobi who had accompanied him forward. "And what is your business here?" 

"I intend to become a resident with Kiyoko, but I would like you blessing to train and become a shinobi for Konohagakure, Lord Hokage." This time, Kiyoko was the one to gasp, bringing a hand to cover her mouth. Ignoring her reaction, Hime straightened her shoulders and continued. "As for Hideki, I do not know if he intends to stay or travel."

Hideki spluttered, flustered at being put on the spot, and from the unexpected move from Hime. "Lord Hokage, I would like to become a resident as well." 

Hiruzen only grabbed a few documents, lazily writing over them with a quill. He looked up at Hideki through his brow. "Permanently or temporarily?"

"Kiyoko and I will be permanent, Lord Hokage." With another low hum, he signed the document and stamped two pages with ink. When he pulled out the third page, he signed it as well, but picked up a different stamp to mark the parchment. 

"Very well. Hime Sakanoue and Kiyoko Tsubano will become permanent residents of Konohagakure, and Hideki Kobayashi will be labelled as temporary until decided. Hime will also be tested and enroll with a Jonin to begin shinobi training after three days. You have until then to settle in." He handed the documents to the shinobi he'd called forward, waving his hand. The shinobi bowed, and left the room with them. 

"For now, you will be monitored closely to ensure you have no ill intent." Hiruzen stood up, walking over to the window just beside his desk and waved his hand. 

"Kiyoko, Hideki, you are dismissed. Hime, I would like to speak with you privately." 

Hime gave Kiyoko a small smile at her concerned face, watching her bow and exit the room with Hideki, who she paid no mind to. Once the doors were closed, she turned her attention back to the Hokage. 

"Tell me, Hime Sakanoue. How is it, with your father's strict limits on imports regarding information, not being a trading partner with the Leaf, that you came to hear of Konoha?" Well damn, how could she forget that Konoha was one of the leading five villages in the world? Of course they'd have some information, even if not very much at all, regarding her village. 

"He has many books in his study, and often brings in associates to speak with. I have overheard him talking." He could see right through her. He turned around, taking a seat back at his desk and leaning back in his chair. 

"Surely not enough to decide to travel across the continent to come here, yes?" 

Hime was biting her tongue so hard she was sure she could taste blood mixing in with her saliva. What was she going to do now? He was right, there was no possible way she would've had any information regarding Konoha in her home, and her father went to the house off the main manor to discuss with his associates. 

She could lie again, say that she had been intrigued by the village reputation. But that would likely be the wrong move, since the village was still recovering from the tailed beast attack just a few years ago. It was too late to say she had left and heard about Konoha while travelling, since she had admitted she'd heard it from her father. What options were left?

Clenching her fists, she felt tears of frustration well in her eyes. Blinking them away, she took a deep breath and looked at Hiruzen with determination shining in her eyes. "Lord Hokage, since I have heard about Konohagakure, I knew it was the place for me."

This was where she really needed him to take the bait. "My father.." she let her lip wobble, brows creasing as her face morphed sadly. "He was going to marry me off to the Lord of the Land of Winter. I knew Konoha was far away, and that he wouldn't come this far to find me.. and I have no way of protecting myself.." She lowered herself to her knees again, pressing her forehead to the wood floor. 

"Please, let me become a shinobi, and reside in the Leaf for the rest of my life, Lord Hokage!"

It was quiet for a few tense moments, and Hime's whole body had tightened up in anticipation for his answer. If he rejected her now, she would have no choice but to leave Konoha, which meant she would never be able to carry out "saving" Kakashi.

"Very well," Hiruzen's deep voice made relief flow through her body, letting out a small sigh and closing her eyes before raising from the floor. "However, this is only under the condition that you cause no trouble here in Konoha. You will follow the orders of your Jonin, and you will report for missions as necessary."

Hime nodded, a small smile coming to her face. She lowered onto one knee, pressing her fist to the floor as she bowed her head. "Thank you, Lord Hokage. I will not disappoint."

Though it had only been a short few minutes, Hideki and Kiyoko had already been escorted out of the tower. Kiyoko was pacing in short strides, chewing on the tip of her thumb when Hime made it out of the building. 

The changing colors of the leaves hanging onto the trees caught her attention for only a brief moment, before realization struck her. Before the shinobi escorting her out could leave, she turned and called out to him. 

"Excuse me, it's the fifteen of September, correct?"

He nodded, saying nothing more as he headed back inside. They'd gotten to Konoha three weeks earlier than they had before, as in her past life, her and Hideki spent a lot of time getting to know each other and exploring the villages they were visiting. 

This timing was horrible, and Hime felt unease settle heavily in her stomach. She should've realized when she saw him next to Kakashi when they came to the Hokage tower, granted, she never did know what he looked like aside from descriptions of the Uchiha clan. 

In two weeks, Itachi Uchiha was going to murder his entire clan, with the exception of his little brother Sasuke. And today- it was Kakashi Hatake's twenty-first birthday. 

༻ ∘ ❀ ∘ ༺

Korigakure: a village i made up meaning the village of ice, since there was no official listed villages for the land of ice. if the usage is incorrect, i apologize. 

[heaven-saidx]

For past Gabe, would you call the exterminations a necessary evil? And if so, does that mean you are still doing an evil act?

✟  " There is no such thing as necessary evils in the Lord's work. What is necessary in the pursuit of an absolute good cannot be an evil. Through Heaven's eyes, one cannot cling to worldly sentimentality, lest we stand in the way of divine fate. " Not that mere shadow creatures are deserving of sympathy but some insist on mistaking them for people because they... have a face and try to flee from their destruction, he supposed. But even livestock does that. And they are beneath the gentle sanctity of livestock-- cattle do not do evil willingly like they do. His cold regality catches ablaze with passion, however, taking a firm stance and raising his fist.

" Fate has deemed these beasts enemies to the Light! For Heaven, and the good of mankind-- kill as many as you can catch! "

[mako-neexu]

カドぐだ | mystic code.

“...I’m honestly not going to say anything anymore, to be honest.” Kadoc bluntly says after giving Fujimaru a dead-pan stare.

The Master laughs, bringing her sunglasses down to her eyes as the snowstorm only grew stronger. “Suit yourself, Senpai.” She aims at another soldier, gandr sparked and gathered at her fingertip before shooting point-blank at the enemy. “But it’s Arts season and there’s no way I’m missing another chance to strengthen this mystic code.”

Kadoc regrets the fact that he didn’t take a few tablets of painkillers today to deal with his kouhai’s insane bullshit.

Honestly, Hinako- Yu Mei-ren should be dealing with her! Not him!

He clicks his tongue loudly before wrapping an arm around the girl’s waist (don’tlookdown,don’tlookdown,don’tlookdown-!) to fling them away from the explosion of an attack that were aimed at them seconds prior.

Before he could berate Ritsuka further, her smirk turned into a wolfish grin as she brought her communicator up and opened the battle sequence. “Give us an all-out attack, guys!” She shouted over to the Servants before sending her instructions to them.

Xu Fu held down the giant hydra with her arts- Pope Johanna then prayed for her allies-

Then, Ryouma and Oryo finally dealt the finishing blow.

“Yeah, yeah! You guys are the bes-AGHK!?” Kadoc barely had time to react before he covered this stupid Master with his body, shielding her from the impact of the dragon’s blow.

Ghhh---!!! This is the worst! Pressed up against her while she wears nearly next to nothing---!!! He was seriously going to put on that damn collar again if it meant that she avoid doing unpredictable and crazy shit like this again!

Kadoc chalked his blush up to the cold of the environment and looked anywhere but Fujimaru before him.

When everything had finally settled, including the storm that raged earlier, he sighed in relief. Dear god. He would never ever get used to being in constant danger with mythical beasts.

Warmth- a hand cups his cheek.

“Thanks for supporting me back there, Kadoc-kun.”

He saw a smile from the corner of his eyes. Unable to resist, he half-heartedly glared up at Ritsuka. But the pink that spread across his face deepened. He merely rolled his eyes in response before pulling on her cheek with his gloved hand, “You seriously have to learn defensive magic that protects your body after this.”

“Oh? So you won’t tell me to stop using this mystic code instead, hm?” Her cheeky smile combined with the fact that she leaned in close to him, her warm hand now pulling his face closer-

“Wha-!?” Kadoc scrambled to pull away but was stopped by Fujimaru clinging onto him like damn koala-!!!

“Nooo!!! It’s cold! Don’t leave! I want to hide inside your jacket!”

“Then, I’ll take it off for you! Just let go!” He tried to pry her off of him, but she only clung to him tighter and buried her face in his neck.

“I don’t want that either!” She whined. Upon looking down at this stupid kouhai of his, he Kadoc realized his mistake.

He willed all the powers of the Zemlupus family to fucking calm his blush down lest his face turns into the same shade as Tristan’s hair. This idiot below him basically wanted him to hold her on the way back to the Border. Great.

Sighing, he sat them down with Ritsuka on his lap to avoid getting burnt by the cold ground on the snow before unbuttoning his coat. “Wha- What are you doing?” She asked, bewildered.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, “Uh, getting us ready to go back?”

Ritsuka cutely pouted- ugh, he was going to give up on himself as well at this point. 

It didn’t take him long to rid himself of the clothing before draping it aorund the girl’s body. He took his gloves off as well and gave it to her. “Hey, it was just a joke. You don’t have to do this y’know? The mystic code wards off most of the intense temperatures. So I’m not really affected at all.”

Keyword: most.

Years of being a mage forced to play a death game taught him to be perceptive no matter how light or extreme the situation is. And he certainly didn’t miss the slight chatter to her words whenever she spoke.

Kadoc sighed as he closed the jacket around the girl before making sure his gloves were secured around her hands. “I’m doing this because I want to.”

Looking back up to see her be the one to blush has him averting his eyes and clambering for words to follow up on that confession. “A-And that you’re seriously in for a lecture on magic later.”

Her response was a soft smile that made his heart skip a beat. “Okay.”

-

Kadoc dies as soon as they reached the command room when Ritsuka kisses his cheek with a flirty ‘thanks Kadoc-kun’ before running off to skip on class.

[thevoiceofthebard]

Chapter 15 - Irileth I: Dragon Rising

Fredas 22nd of Last See 4E201 Early Evening

Irileth

"One last thing, Irileth. This isn't a death or glory mission. I need to know what we're dealing with here."

Balgruuf's last words to me echo within my mind. It isn't the first time he had said them to me. I doubt it shall be the last either. And my response was also the same as ever. "Don't worry, my Jarl. I am the very soul of caution." An exchange as old as our partnership in the Imperial Army.

And yet... The very nature of my mission causes me to wonder if this might indeed be the last time this exchange passes between us. This eve, I fight no man, no mer, but an ancient beast older than civilization itself, one not fought since the First Era, when myths and legend roamed Nirn freely. Is it possible for mere mortals to fell such a creature?

Well, there is a skull in Dragonsreach that claimed such was indeed possible. And, more importantly, it is my job to convince the dozen guardsmen arrayed in front of me that we are not all marching to an early grave. Perhaps easier said than done. While none would call the Nordic peoples faint of heart, the men and women before me are guards, not soldiers, I doubt many have seen more action than the occasional bandit raid.

The guards are on-edge already; no doubt they're aware of the situation at least somewhat. "Here's the situation, men. A dragon is attacking the Western Watchtower." Exclamations of shock rippled through their ranks. "You heard right! I said a dragon!" I raise my voice to grab their attention and restore what little order they possess. "I don't much care where it came from or who sent it. What I do know is that it's made the mistake of attacking Whiterun!"

"But housecarl, how can we fight a dragon?"

"That's a fair question. None of us have ever seen a dragon before, let alone expected to face one in battle. But! We are honorbound to fight it, even if we fail. This dragon is threatening our homes... Our families! Could you call yourselves Nords if you ran from this monster? Are you going to let me face this thing alone?"

"We are so dead."

I had hoped to inspire them all with my impassioned words, but for every glimmer of defiance I saw, I also noticed as many with fear in their eyes, the kind that led to deserters in the midst of battle; far more dangerous than any tangible foe.

"Housecarl?" Behind me is Talao, along with the woman he had returned with. "If I may?"

"Why are you here?" I ask him in an undertone.

"Well, Uthgerd and I are following you to the watchtower, so that..."

"No. I mean, why are you here?" I reply bitingly. "We are about to possibly engage in battle with an ancient beast of destruction. I need no liabilities on the field of battle, lest your weakness cause another's death."

Uthgerd scowls, but rather than cowing the Breton with my words, his eyes harden and he whispers back, "I may be no warrior, nor a soldier of your experience, but I am far from helpless on the battlefield, I assure you. I am also the only civilian in this city to have seen a dragon in action, and can give you information during a fight with such a foe, unless you would prefer to lose your guards while you learn how to best fight it. But, more importantly, right this moment, your speech has hardly inspired your guards, and that is definitely something I have a gift for."

Well. I certainly prefer this Breton to the silver-tongued fop I met a few days past. I should almost question if he were the same man, did I not remember him so clearly. And he was right. To lead the guards with such a mindset would be dangerous. I nodded to Talao and stood aside, leaving him to address the men.

"Guards of Whiterun! You don't know me, but my name is Talao. I'm a Breton and a bard. But more importantly, I'm one of the few survivors from when the town of Helgen was razed to the ground by a dragon. And I will tell you that I have never been as afraid as I had been then. A beast from eras past, the size of twenty men, raining fire upon an unsuspecting town, destroying walls with a flick of its mighty tail. I was helpless, a prisoner with hands bound, running to survive. I watched that town crumble.

"And unless we are successful today, someone else will tell the same story about Whiterun."

The muttering among the guards grows heated as he pauses briefly, ad I almost stop Talao before he scares them all the the hills. But I hold out hope that he will turn the tides yet.

"I tell you this not to frighten you, but to ensure you do not underestimate what may await us out there, thought I doubt you would regardless. And also because of what else I saw that day; men and women fighting for their lives. Saving one another, and driving the dragon back! I could stand here and try to convince you that you could become the next Olaf One-Eye, slaying dragons like the heroes of eld. But what truly drives us to greatness is not glory for glory's sake. It is to fight for those who cannot, to save those you care for! Helgen was taken by surprise, unarmed but for a regiment of soldiers who had no recourse but to save those they could and retreat to safety. We are forewarned and forearmed, ready to fight.

"You ask how you shall fight a dragon? The same way you fight a bandit or a bear. You fight with fire in your hearts and pride in your home. You fight for your spouses, your children, your friends, and your Jarl. You fight so that no person shall e'er feel an ounce more loss than they must! And every one of them shall remember your name, no matter the outcome!"

The change in the mood of the crowd is astounding, as though lightning coursed through every man's veins. Myself included. I jump atop a low wall nearby and shout, "Now what do you say? Shall we go kill us a dragon?" The roar of assent was deafening as we charged through the gates. I find Talao's eyes and give him a brief salute before we are all swept away. I only hope the triumph in his eyes lasts the day.

Chapter 14 - Farengar II: Dragon Rising x Chapter 16 - Menrig I: Dragon Rising

[lakesbian]

what do u think of rose sr's childhood/backstory. any ideas on how or why she became such a cunt

most obviously there's the fact that she made a minor severe mistake when she was like 16 and locked herself into being unable to let her children become practitioners without demons and beasts and so on immediately kersploding her. which means she, y'know, can't train them to be ready to deal with The Horrors of the debt, which means she has to spend her entire life dealing with The Horrors by herself + trying to set things up so that the family can catch up on the training they would've otherwise gotten after she dies with as few casualties as possible. which means she had to spend her entire life being a miserable (literally speaking regarding her emotional state) cunt who couldn't be honest about why she was a miserable cunt but couldn't be dishonest about it either. you too would be a cunt if you couldn't white lie. devastating: local woman legally bound into being a cunt lest The Horrors happen to her and her fambily. something fun thematically speaking about. like.

blake and his grandma are both naively insistent and furious about Not Participating In The Cycle--rose via insistence on not dragging her family into the cycle, blake via insistence on not being dragged into it

similar traits & mistakes (impulsivity, quick to anger and make Magic Mistakes when angry (her oath, his insulting padraic & co), the tendency to lash out towards family over The Cycle...there's probably more but i'm tired)

rose (mirror) being named after rose (cunt) and blake literally being rose, the similar traits, rose (cunt) going I hate The Cycle I won't let The Cycle happen & then being screwed six ways from sunday over her attempt to lash out in anger against said cycle, blake also lashing out in anger against The Cycle...he is intent on Doing This Thing for a variety of reasons, but i think the pieces are still in place 4 a little parallel where he's faaar more like his grandma than he thinks and he's also going to be screwed six ways from sunday for it ♥ you've heard of boys who desperately don't want to turn into their fathers but wear their shoes at times anyways (brian, alec) get ready for boy (adult man) who desperately doesn't want to turn into his Grandmother (but probably will)

anyway. i am sooo tired this post is losing steam but i think beyond the most surface layer of "she's a cunt because she's legally fucking bound to be lmao" there's the whole childhood trauma that the inherited Literal horrors serve as blatant metaphor for. being an old ass woman born in the early 1900s when violent physical abuse is the normal response to your child fucking up will in fact turn you into sort of a cunt. i think her character is in a way very reminiscent of that one type of old person that's intent on being better than their family before them but can't--literally, in her case--honestly/accurately communicate their experiences or emotions to their family and just sort of stumbles around brusquely trying to do their best for them without explanation. like she's very used to the parents being de facto the bad guys that know what's best 2 protect their children from the external horrors whose decisions (which are often internal horrors seen as better than the external horrors) just have 2 be suffered thru by the kids 4 their supposed ultimate wellbeing. so she does that. cycle still has a hold on her despite her attempts to save her family from some of it because no one person can shake the family legacy. books that are about the horrors of family legacy Grabbing You and not letting go no matter what you do. and she cannot articulate any of this because no one in her position knows how to articulate it, because she Literally Due To Magic Metaphor can't articulate it. am i explaining this coherently at all. i dunno i'm just endeared to her character writing so far i think she serves rlly well as a poster child 4 the way cycles of trauma glom onto you & subsequently as smth for blake to be compared to as he becomes the new poster child. it's a good book!

[killerandhealerqueen]

Hi! How about a headcannon where everyone knows not to touch Chen Yuzhi or you're a dead man. All criminals know, if you don't want to die, don't look in Dr. Chen's direction. Yuzhi is difficult to kidnap, he knows how to fight well / with a policeman husband, and friends from the triad, you will be able to do everything/ But those who succeed do not live long. When the new gang caught Yuzhi and beat him up for not wanting to cooperate and for the fractures and bruises that the doctor left them during the abduction, they were sure that Jian Yuelou would take the hint and would not contact them. Only they miscalculated. The gang leader heard the phrase from a local bandit: "Chen Yuzhi is not a weakness of Jian Yuelou. He's his stopcock, the only one who can stop him. And you hurt him. Jian Yuelou will come for you and the whole city too. My advice to you, get out of town. If you can, of course." he added with a sneer. But the leader did not listen to the advice. And these idiots saw the appearance of the Jingchen Demon. Yuelou's rage knew no bounds. When the leader shouts for Jian Yuelou to be stopped, he hears from Yu Tangchun, who snuck in from the back door: "The only one who could stop him is now in a coma. You attacked the wrong person." I want the anger of the local gangs who respected Dr. Chen and came to the aid of Yuelou. I want Yuzhi's sarcastic answers to the demands of the gang leader. Yu Tangchun pulls out his daggers after learning about the attack on his friend. I wrote a lot again 🙈😅

*practically vibrates out of my skin* Oh, this is going to be delicious

This is going to be quite long, so it's going under the cut. Also, apologies for making you wait so long!

Jing City had two rules: 1) never sell opium and 2) never, under any circumstances, belittle, upset, talk down to, kidnap, torture, insult, accuse, attack, etc.…Dr. Chen Yuzhi

Now the first rule made sense but the second rule…to anyone who was new to Jing City, the rule seemed a little ridiculous, until it was explained to them

You see, Dr. Chen Yuzhi was the city’s most beloved and respected doctor, who treated everyone as an equal, even the gangsters

He was also Commissioner Jiang Yuelou’s husband, who was rather possessive of the young doctor and tended to…lose his temper whenever he thought that Chen Yuzhi was upset or hurt or whatever

All of the gangs in Jing City knew by now not to mess with Chen Yuzhi, lest they wanted Jiang Yuelou showing up at their doorstep like a feral beast ready to tear out their throats

And, to prevent any newer gangs from making the mistake of setting Jiang Yuelou off, they warned them about what was allowed to be done in Jing City

Most newer gangs listened, because they had heard of Jiang Yuelou and his temper and what he did to gangs who didn’t listen, but there was one gang who, when told about what not to do, scoffed at the idea that some police chief could hurt them if they messed with this doctor or whatever

Of course, the gangs warned them but the new gang didn’t care; they were going to rule Jing City and no “Commissioner Jiang” was going to stop them

It was a normal, quiet morning as Chen Yuzhi headed to work, humming softly as the cool fall air caressed his face

When he finally reached his clinic, he reached out and grabbed the padlock, about to unlock it when a throat cleared behind him, making him look over his shoulder to see a group of men standing before him

“Can I help you gentlemen?”

“You Dr. Chen Yuzhi?”

Chen Yuzhi nodded slowly

“Yes…”

One of the men smiled

“Great.  The boss wants to meet you”

Chen Yuzhi frowned, just as the man surged forward and shoved a cloth in his face, causing his eyes to widen before they fluttered and he collapsed, his kit crashing to the ground as the men quickly rushed forward and caught him

Once he was unconscious, the men looked around before they carried him off, not realizing that a group of street children had seen the entire exchange

The group of children then looked at each other before they split up, half of them going after the men that kidnapped Chen Yuzhi while the other half went to go tell Jiang Yuelou had happened

When Chen Yuzhi woke up a little while later, he found himself tied to a chair in the middle of a warehouse, causing him to sigh heavily; it was far too early in the day to be kidnapped already

“So…you’re Dr. Chen”

Chen Yuzhi looked up to see a man slowly walking towards him, a sly smile on his face

“Yes?  And you are?”

The man smirked

“Your new business partner”

Chen Yuzhi frowned

“Excuse me?”

The man smiled

“You see, I created a variant of opium and I…need a distributor.  That’s where you come in, Dr. Chen”

Chen Yuzhi looked at him in shock before he shook his head

“Absolutely not!  I will not help you distribute drugs!”

The man tsked and shook his head as he held out his hand, one of his lackies quickly placing a pill into in

“That’s because you haven’t tried it yet.  Once you try it, you’ll want to distribute it.  Here��

He then took a step forward and reached out, grabbing Chen Yuzhi’s face in his hand before he took the pill and shoved it between Chen Yuzhi’s tightly pursed lips, smiling as he took a step back

“See?  Ain’t it pretty good?”

Chen Yuzhi was quiet before he looked him in the eyes and spat the pill back in his face, the man flinching as the pill hit him in the face before he growled and clenched his hand into a fist

“Why you—”

He then swung and punched Chen Yuzhi in the face, snapping his head to the side

“You bitch!  Don’t you know each pill is expensive?!  You just wasted product!”

He then punched Chen Yuzhi again, causing Chen Yuzhi to gasp in pain and the other members of the gang to look at their leader with hesitation

“Uh…boss…do you really think you should be doing that?  I mean…you heard what those other gangs and triads said about hurting him—”

“I don’t give a SHIT about that Commissioner Jiang or the fucking rules…this doctor disrespected me…and disrespect must be dealt with”

He then began to beat Chen Yuzhi almost senseless, Chen Yuzhi’s pained cries echoing throughout the empty warehouse

While he was beating Chen Yuzhi almost to death, back in the city, at the police station, Jiang Yuelou was sitting at his desk, going over reports, when an officer stepped into his office

“Commissioner”

Jiang Yuelou looked up at him and raised an eyebrow

“What is it?”

“You have a visitor sir”

Jiang Yuelou frowned before he waved his hand

“Send them in”

The officer nodded before he turned and stepped out of the room, one of the street children stepping in a moment later

“Commissioner”

Jiang Yuelou looked at them in surprise

“What are you doing here?”

“Dr. Chen was kidnapped”

Jiang Yuelou blinked, almost as if the words didn’t register

“What?”

The child looked at him calmly

“Dr. Chen was kidnapped”

When the words finally registered, Jiang Yuelou’s eyes widened and he shot to his feet, slamming his hands on his desk

“WHAT?!”

At the loud noise, the child flinched causing Jiang Yuelou to wince slightly before he took a deep breath and looked at them

“Who?  Who took him?”

The child shook their head

“I’ve never seen them before; they’re not familiar to us”

Jiang Yuelou hummed

“So a new gang then?”

The child nodded

“We think so”

Jiang Yuelou growled softly before he looked them in the eyes

“Do you know where he was taken?”

The child shook their head

“No, but a few of us followed after them.  When they come back, they should tell us”

Jiang Yuelou nodded slowly, just as a child rushed into the office, looking at Jiang Yuelou with wide eyes

“Commissioner”

“Did you find them?”

The child nodded

“Yes, but we need to hurry.  They’re hurting Dr. Chen”

Jiang Yuelou’s eyes widened before he looked at the doors of his office

“SONG RONG!  SUN YONGREN!  JIN DACHENG!”

At their names, Jiang Yuelou’s three subordinates, Vice-Commissioner Jin Dacheng, and Chiefs Song Rong and Sun Yongren rushed into the room, their eyes wide

“Yes Commissioner?”

“Chen Yuzhi has been kidnapped and we need to act fast”

Jin Dacheng, Song Rong, and Sun Yongren nodded as Jiang Yuelou pointed to the child that had just entered the room

“Jin Dacheng, allow this child to ride in your car.  He knows the way to where Chen Yuzhi is being held”

Jin Dacheng nodded before he looked down at the child

“This way”

The child nodded and quickly followed after him as Jiang Yuelou looked at Song Rong and Sun Yongren

“Let’s go”

The two men nodded and quickly rushed out of the room as Jiang Yuelou walked around his desk, making to follow when he paused and looked down at the child who had reported Chen Yuzhi’s kidnapping

“Find out who kidnapped Chen Yuzhi.  Use your connections, talk to the other gangs.  I want a name”

The child nodded and quickly rushed out of the office as Jiang Yuelou followed behind, fire in his eyes

Someone was going to die

Back at the warehouse, the gang leader was still whaling on Chen Yuzhi until he finally punched the young doctor so hard that he caused him and the chair to crash to the ground, Chen Yuzhi limp in his bindings

As soon as he hit the ground, the subordinates looked at their leader nervously

“Boss did you…did you kill him?”

The gang leader said nothing before he looked over at them

“Let’s get out of here”

His subordinates looked at him in shock before they nodded, all of them quickly running out of the warehouse, leaving Chen Yuzhi behind, not even realizing that one of the street children that had stayed behind when the other child ran off to alert Jiang Yuelou was following after them

While they were running away, a moment or two later, Jiang Yuelou and the others arrived, all of them bursting into the warehouse before they looked around, Jin Dacheng immediately noticing Chen Yuzhi on the ground

“Jiang Yuelou”

Jiang Yuelou looked over at him before he looked towards where he was pointing, his eyes widening at the sight of Chen Yuzhi on the ground and tied to the chair

“Yuzhi!”

He then ran over to Chen Yuzhi and knelt before him, his heart immediately sinking to his stomach at the sight of the bruises covering his face

“Yuzhi”

He then noticed that his chest wasn’t rising and falling, causing a cold chill to run through him before he reached out and placed his fingers to Chen Yuzhi’s pulse-point, silently praying that there was one

Thankfully he felt a pulse, causing him to let out a heavy sigh of relief before he looked up at Song Rong

“Song Rong, give me your knife”

Song Rong nodded and quickly walked over to him, handing him his knife that he always kept on him

Jiang Yuelou then took the knife and cut the bonds keeping Chen Yuzhi tied to the chair, handing Song Rong back the knife before he reached out and pulled Chen Yuzhi into his arms, carefully holding him close as he slowly pushed himself to his feet

“Let’s get him to a hospital”

After leaving the warehouse, Jiang Yuelou, Song Rong, Sun Yongren, and Jin Dacheng headed to the hospital, Jiang Yuelou passing off Chen Yuzhi to the waiting staff

While Chen Yuzhi was rushed to the ER to make sure that the beating he had sustained hadn’t broken anything serious and that he didn’t have any internal bleeding or ruptured organs, Jiang Yuelou paced outside in the waiting room, his entire body taut like a tiger pacing its cage

He didn’t know who kidnapped his husband and tortured him and he didn’t know why…but he was going to find them…

And he was going to tear them limb from limb

As he paced, Song Rong, Sun Yongren, and Jin Dacheng stood nearby, keeping an eye on him, since they knew that he was close to snapping

A little while later, the doctor came out and walked over to them, making the four men look at him

“Doctor.  How is he?”

The doctor was quiet and glanced over at Song Rong, Sun Yongren, and Jin Dacheng before he looked at Jiang Yuelou

“Your husband is very lucky to be alive, Commissioner.  He was beaten within an inch of his life.  He’s currently in critical condition and is unconscious…if he wakes up, it’ll be a miracle”

Jiang Yuelou was quiet before he nodded slowly

“Thank you.  Can I see him?”

The doctor nodded

“It won’t be a pretty sight, but you can”

Jiang Yuelou nodded and made to follow the doctor when he paused and looked over at Jin Dacheng, Song Rong, and Sun Yongren

“Go back to the warehouse and search it.  There’s got to be something there that will lead us to whoever kidnapped and beat Chen Yuzhi”

Jin Dacheng, Song Rong, and Sun Yongren nodded before they turned and headed out of the hospital, heading back to the warehouse

While they were heading to the warehouse, Jiang Yuelou followed the doctor to Chen Yuzhi’s room, the doctor dipping his head to him before he walked away, giving him privacy

Once he had left, Jiang Yuelou took a deep, shuddering breath before he reached out and slid open the hospital room door, stepping inside before he quietly closed the door behind him and made his way over to Chen Yuzhi’s bed, stopping at the foot of it

He looked at Chen Yuzhi for a moment, at his bruised and battered body and the tubes that were sticking out of it, and let out another shuddering breath before he slowly walked over to the side of the bed and sat down, reaching out to gently take Chen Yuzhi’s hand in his

“I’m sorry, my love.  I’m so sorry”

He then fell silent and just sat there, gently holding Chen Yuzhi’s hand in his, the only sound in the room the sound of the heart monitor steadily beeping

As he sat there in silence, just holding his beloved’s hand, the door to the room quietly slid open before a man slipped inside and walked over to him

“Zhan-xiong”

The man smirked

“Nothing gets past you, Jiang-xiong”

Jiang Yuelou glanced over at the man

“You’re back from Hong Kong”

The man, Zhan Junbai, hummed softly

“I heard what happened to Dr. Chen.  I figured you could use my help”

Jiang Yuelou turned to look at him

“You know Jinma Hall no longer exists, right?”

Zhan Junbai smiled

“I know.  But I’m still San Ye and I still have ties to the criminal underground”

Jiang Yuelou hummed

“Think you can use your connections and figure out who did this?”

Zhan Junbai nodded

“I’ll ask Fu Cheng too.  Gang leaders like to unwind in opera houses…he might be able to ask around”

Jiang Yuelou nodded

“Thank you”

Zhan Junbai nodded before he looked at Chen Yuzhi

“How is he?”

Jiang Yuelou shook his head

“Not good…”

He then looked up at Zhan Junbai with glassy eyes

“They almost beat him to death, Zhan-xiong”

Zhan Junbai was quiet before he stepped forward and reached out, gently grasping him by the shoulder

“We will find them, Jiang-xiong.  I promise you”

Jiang Yuelou nodded weakly as Zhan Junbai moved his hand from his shoulder to his neck, giving it a comforting squeeze before he looked at him

“You should get some rest”

Jiang Yuelou shook his head

“I can’t leave him.  I can’t”

Zhan Junbai nodded

“I understand.  But make sure you rest and eat at some point.  Dr. Chen wouldn’t want you to waste away at his bedside.  You know that”

Jiang Yuelou nodded

“I know…I know.  And I will.  But just…not now”

Zhan Junbai nodded

“Of course”

He then gave his neck another comforting squeeze before he turned and slipped out of the room, leaving Jiang Yuelou alone again

While Jiang Yuelou was sitting at Chen Yuzhi’s bedside, back at the warehouse, Song Rong, Jin Dacheng, and Sun Yongren were looking around, searching for any clue they could find that could tie them to the kidnappers

As they looked around, Sun Yongren noticed something, causing him to kneel down before his eyes widened and he looked over at the others

“Hey, look at this”

Jin Dacheng and Song Rong looked over at him before they walked over and knelt down beside him

“What?”

Sun Yongren pointed to a white-looking pill on the ground

“A pill”

Jin Dacheng frowned

“You think it belonged to Dr. Chen?”

Song Rong shook his head

“It’s not the shape of the pills he usually uses or prescribes”

Sun Yongren then reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of white gloves, quickly slipping them on before he reached out and picked up the pill, looking at it

“We should probably take it to a chemist and have them examine it”

Song Rong frowned

“But the only person who we use as our “chemist” is Dr. Chen…and he’s in the hospital.  In critical condition”

Jin Dacheng huffed

“Well there’s gotta be someone in this fucking city who can test this fucking pill”

“There’s no need to test it.  It’s opium”

Jin Dacheng, Song Rong, and Sun Yongren turned, their eyes widening in shock

“Executive Zhan”

They then quickly pushed themselves to their feet as Zhan Junbai slowly walked over to them and stood before them

“What are you doing here?”

“Assisting with this case”

He then held out his hand

“May I?”

Sun Yongren looked at his bare hand, just as Jin Dacheng reached into his pocket and pulled out a glove, handing it to him

“Put this on first”

Zhan Junbai huffed softly before he took the glove and slipped it on, Sun Yongren placing the pill in it a moment later

He then took the pill and held it up, studying it for a moment before he nodded

“I was right.  It’s opium”

Jin Dacheng looked at him in shock

“You can tell just by looking at it?!”

Zhan Junbai chuckled softly

“Vice-Commissioner Jin, it seems you forget that I was once the biggest supplier and distributor of opium in Jing City.  Yes I can tell just by looking at it”

Song Rong then shook his head

“How is there opium in Jing City?  The commissioner eradicated it after the fall of Jinma Hall and he made the rules!  The gangs know better!”

Zhan Junbai hummed

“Yes, they do.  But there’s been whispers in the underground of a new gang that has decided to ignore the rules…which would explain Chen Yuzhi’s kidnapping”

Jin Dacheng, Song Rong, and Sun Yongren looked at him in confusion

“I don’t understand”

Zhan Junbai motioned to the pill

“If this pill has been produced/manufactured, then they need a distributor.  It’s hard to do it on the street, because many gangs know better, but if the gang has a distributor like Chen Yuzhi, who can disguise the pills as medication, it’ll be rather easy to completely addict the entire city”

Song Rong nodded slowly

“And I’m guessing that Chen Yuzhi refused, and they beat him nearly to death because of it?”

Zhan Junbai nodded

“Exactly”

Jin Dacheng crossed his arms

“And do you have any idea who this gang is?”

Zhan Junbai shook his head

“My spies are still searching.  But it won’t be long before we have a name”

Jin Dacheng, Song Rong, and Sun Yongren nodded as Zhan Junbai handed them back the pill

“You should go report that to Jiang Yuelou”

He then turned and headed out of the warehouse, Jin Dacheng, Song Rong, and Sun Yongren staring after him before Jin Dacheng huffed

“You heard the man; let’s go talk to Jiang Yuelou”

A little while later, Jin Dacheng, Song Rong, and Sun Yongren stepped into Chen Yuzhi’s hospital room, all of the men’s eyes widening at the sight of the young doctor lying in the hospital bed before Sun Yongren cleared his throat

“Boss”

Jiang Yuelou glanced over at them and raised an eyebrow

“Got something?”

Sun Yongren nodded before he stepped forward and held out his hand, the pill in the middle of his palm

“We found this in the warehouse”

Jiang Yuelou looked at the pill and frowned

“What is that?”

Jin Dacheng crossed his arms

“According to Zhan Junbai, opium”

Jiang Yuelou looked up at him with wide eyes

“What?”

Song Rong nodded

“He said that it be the motive for why Dr. Chen was kidnapped and beaten.  This gang created opium and needed someone to distribute it because they knew trying to get the other gangs to buy and distribute would be impossible because of the rule.  So they kidnapped Dr. Chen and tried to recruit him, but he rejected them”

Jiang Yuelou hummed and nodded slowly but Jin Dacheng, Song Rong, and Sun Yongren immediately noticed the way his body began to tremble with barely concealed rage

“So they beat him, is that it?”

Song Rong, Sun Yongren, and Jin Dacheng nodded

“Yes sir”

Jiang Yuelou nodded slowly again before he looked at them

“Do we have a name?”

Song Rong shook his head

“No sir.  Not yet”

Jiang Yuelou nodded before he waved them away

“Don’t disturb me until you have a name and a location”

Jin Dacheng, Song Rong, and Sun Yongren nodded before they turned and headed out of the hospital room, Jiang Yuelou waiting until the door closed before he looked back at Chen Yuzhi, whose eyes were still closed

“Don’t worry, A-Zhi.  I will punish those that hurt you.  That’s a promise”

Over the next few days, while Jiang Yuelou remained by Chen Yuzhi’s side to keep an eye on him and his condition, his subordinates, his spies, Zhan Junbai, Yu Tangchun, and their spies worked tirelessly to figure out just which gang had broken Jing City’s two most important rules

Then one day, as Jiang Yuelou was quietly sitting at Chen Yuzhi’s bedside, the door to the room slid open, Zhan Junbai and one of the street children stepping inside

“Jiang-xiong”

Jiang Yuelou looked up at them and raised an eyebrow

“Yes?”

Zhan Junbai, however, didn’t answer, and just looked at him, causing his eyes to widen before he pushed himself to his feet

“Where”

Zhan Junbai motioned to the child, making Jiang Yuelou look at them

“Can you take us to them?”

The child nodded, Jiang Yuelou nodding in reply before he looked at Zhan Junbai

“Let’s go”

Zhan Junbai nodded before they turned and headed out of the hospital room, Jiang Yuelou pausing to look one last time at Chen Yuzhi before he continued after the child and Zhan Junbai out of the hospital, only to stop in shock at the sight of nearly every gang and triad in Jing City standing before him

“What…what is this?”

One of the gang leaders smiled

“We heard what happened to Dr. Chen…and we’re here to offer our support, Commissioner Jiang”

Jiang Yuelou huffed

“How do you know what I’m going to do?”

A triad leader laughed

“Because we know you, Commissioner Jiang.  Dr. Chen was hurt which means that the poor soul has no idea what’s in store for them”

Jiang Yuelou looked at all of them and smiled slightly before the smile fell and a dark look entered his face

“Let’s go then”

He then stepped forward, the gangs quickly parting like the red sea for Moses as he made his way through the streets of Jing City, the gangs falling into step behind him

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of town, the gang that had kidnapped and attacked Chen Yuzhi were busy working on creating more opium, not even realizing that a literal wave of death was making its way towards them

As they worked on process the opium, one of the subordinates looked over at their boss

“Boss…aren’t you worried about Jiang Yuelou coming after us?  We did kidnap and attack Dr. Chen”

The leader scoffed

“If he hasn’t attacked us by now, I doubt he’s going to do.  From what I know about Jiang Yuelou, he’s one of those “shoot first, ask questions later” type of people”

Just then, a laugh echoed throughout the warehouse, making the leader and his subordinates freeze before the leader pulled out a gun and looked around

“Who’s there?”

“You think you know Jiang Yuelou?  Oh, you stupid, stupid fool”

The leader then looked up to see Zhan Junbai and Yu Tangchun up on the landing, both men leaning against the railing

“Who are you?”

Zhan Junbai grinned

“Jiang Yuelou is much smarter than you…and much more dangerous”

The leader scoffed

“More dangerous than me?  I doubt it.  I put his “beloved doctor” in the hospital.  He’s probably too distraught to do anything to stop me”

Just then, the doors to the warehouse burst open, making the leader and the subordinates turn to see Jiang Yuelou, along with every other gang in Jing City, standing at the entrance of the warehouse, a dark look on Jiang Yuelou’s face

“J-Jiang Yuelou”

Jiang Yuelou then surveyed the warehouse before he hummed softly

“Which one of you put my husband in the hospital?”

Without any hesitation, the subordinates (plus Zhan Junbai and Yu Tangchun) immediately pointed to the leader, causing Jiang Yuelou to look at him with narrowed eyes

“You, huh?”

He then slowly began to make his way towards the leader, causing the leader’s eyes to widen before he looked at his subordinates and pointed to Jiang Yuelou

“Stop him!  Stop him, you idiots!”

Up on the landing, Yu Tangchun barked out a laugh

“You idiot.  No one here is going to save you and no one here is going to stop him.  Why? Because you put Chen Yuzhi in the hospital.  You put the one person who can stop him in a coma.  And now you have a target on your back”

He then grinned darkly

“And Jiang Yuelou is like a homing missile.  Nothing will stop him until he hits his target”

The leader gulped before he looked back at Jiang Yuelou, who was slowly advancing towards him, and pulled out his gun, pointing it at him

“Stop!  Stop right there, Jiang Yuelou!”

Jiang Yuelou, however, made no move to stop and continued forward, causing the leader to panic before he fired a warning shot at the ground, only to let out a cry of fear as Jiang Yuelou continued towards him

He then looked towards his subordinates and motioned to Jiang Yuelou

“Well don’t just stand there, kill him!”

At his shout, the subordinates quickly snapped out of it and pulled out their guns, pointing them at Jiang Yuelou but before they could even fire, Jiang Yuelou drew his own gun and fired, hitting a subordinate with deadly precision without even looking

As the subordinate went down, the leader’s eyes widened before he raised his gun and fired at Jiang Yuelou, causing him to duck behind a nearby crate for cover before he stood up and fired at him in return, forcing him to take cover

The leader then let out a harsh breath before he peeked out from behind his hiding spot towards where Jiang Yuelou was hiding and hummed softly before he looked towards the large crowd of gang members and grinned

“Hey Jiang Yuelou!”

Jiang Yuelou peered over his crate at him, his eyes narrowed as he pointed his gun at the gang members

“Your husband ain’t the only body I’m going to be putting in the hospital!”

He then fired a shot into the crowd, hitting one of the gang members in the chest

As the gang member went down, the other gang members pulled out their guns and began firing back, soon turning the warehouse into a battlefield

While everyone was shooting at each other, Jiang Yuelou kept his eye on the leader’s position, making sure that he wasn’t being shot at before he quickly made his way over to his position, startling the man

“You!”

He then raised his gun but before he could fire, Jiang Yuelou shot him in the leg, sending him to the ground with a cry

He then stepped forward and kicked the gun out of his hand before he knelt down before him, pressing the gun between his eyes

“I could kill you…easily.  Your life would be over in a heartbeat.  But I won’t do that”

The leader looked at him in confusion

“What?”

Jiang Yuelou snarled

“I am going to do to you what you did to my husband”

He then punch him in the face, causing his head to snap to the side before he looked back at him, only for Jiang Yuelou to punch him again

He then began to repeated punch the man in the face, punching him until there was more blood than skin on his face

Once he had beaten him to a bloody pulp, Jiang Yuelou pushed himself to his feet and pointed his gun at the gang leader

“Tell the King of Hell the Demon of Jing City sends his regards”

He then fired a shot into the gang leader’s head, watching as his body fell limp before he raised his gun and fired a shot into the air, causing all of the gang members to freeze as he stepped out from behind the boxes and looked at them

“It’s over”

He then looked at the gangs who came to his aid and motioned to the warehouse

“Clean this up.  Destroy all of this.  And if I see any of this out on my streets, just know that I’ll be paying a visit.  Are we clear?”

“Yes Commissioner!”

Jiang Yuelou nodded

“Good.  I didn’t see anything that happened in here and I don’t want to know what happens after I leave”

He then continued out of the warehouse, allowing the gangs to deal with the opium and the subordinates in their fashion

After leaving the warehouse, Jiang Yuelou headed back to the hospital, stepping inside just as one of the doctors walked over to him

“Commissioner”

Jiang Yuelou looked at him with wide eyes

“Did something happen?”

The doctor nodded

“Dr. Chen is able to breathe on his own, so we removed the breathing tube.  I think he’ll be able to wake up soon”

Jiang Yuelou’s eyes widened even further before he nodded

“Alright, thank you”

He then quickly walked past him and made his way towards Chen Yuzhi’s room, quietly opening the door before he stepped inside and made his way over to his hospital bed, sitting beside it before he reached out and took his hand, giving it a squeeze

“I found him, Yuzhi.  I found the person who hurt you.  I punished him”

He then let out a shuddering breath and gave his hand another squeeze before he fell silent, the sound of the heart monitor beeping in his ear, when he felt a weak squeeze, making his eyes widen before he looked over to see Chen Yuzhi slowly opening his eyes

“Chen Yuzhi”

Chen Yuzhi then slowly turned to look at him and smiled weakly

“Jiang Yuelou”

Jiang Yuelou then slowly stood to his feet, careful not to move too fast in fear of startling Chen Yuzhi, before he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before he gently rested his forehead against his

“You’re alright.  Thank God”

Chen Yuzhi hummed as Jiang Yuelou gently cupped his cheek in his hand

“How are you feeling?”

Chen Yuzhi shook his head

“Sore.  Everything hurts”

Jiang Yuelou nodded as he gently stroked his cheek

“I know…I know, and I’m sorry.  I’m sorry that this happened.  But I took care of it.  They can’t hurt you or Jing City anymore”

Chen Yuzhi looked at him

“Really?”

Jiang Yuelou nodded sincerely

“I took care of it”

Chen Yuzhi hummed softly before he yawned, causing Jiang Yuelou to smile softly before he leaned forward and pressed another soft kiss to his forehead

“Get some rest.  Get some rest, I’ll be here when you wake up”

Chen Yuzhi nodded and allowed himself to slip off to sleep, Jiang Yuelou watching him fondly before he sat down beside him and took his hand in his, lacing their fingers together before he gave it a squeeze

Over the next few days, as Chen Yuzhi slowly recovered, Jiang Yuelou remained at his side, only ever leaving if there was a meeting he absolutely had to attend or if there was a case where he was needed

Other than that, he refused to leave his husband’s side

When Chen Yuzhi was finally able to go home, Jiang Yuelou took off from work and took him home, deciding to just spend the day with him

As they relaxed on the couch, there was a knock on the door, making him and Chen Yuzhi look up before Jiang Yuelou looked over at Chen Yuzhi

“I’ll get it.  You just rest”

Chen Yuzhi nodded as he pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the door, opening it to find Zhan Junbai standing outside

“Zhan-xiong”

Zhan Junbai smiled slightly

“How is he?”

Jiang Yuelou nodded

“Better.  Still sore, so he won’t be working for a while”

Zhan Junbai nodded

“I see.  Well, it’s good that he has you during this time”

Jiang Yuelou nodded before he stepped out of the house and closed the gate behind him, looking at Zhan Junbai for a moment before he held out his hand

Zhan Junbai looked at the outstretched hand with a raised eyebrow before he smiled and reached out, taking his hand in his, when Jiang Yuelou suddenly pulled him in for a hug, hugging him tightly

“Thank you, Zhan-xiong”

Zhan Junbai blinked in surprise before he chuckled softly and wrapped his arms around him, returning the hug

“You’re welcome”

They then pulled away as Zhan Junbai looked at Jiang Yuelou and smiled

“Take care, Jiang-xiong.  And take care of Dr. Chen too, understand?”

Jiang Yuelou nodded

“I will”

Zhan Junbai smiled

“I know you will.  Tell Dr. Chen I said hello”

He then turned and walked off, Jiang Yuelou watching him leave before he turned and headed back inside, heading back over to where Chen Yuzhi was sitting on the couch, absentmindedly stroking Xiao Bai (who was all over him because he missed him)

“Who was that?”

Jiang Yuelou smiled

“Zhan Junbai”

Chen Yuzhi’s eyes widened

“Z-Zhan Junbai?  What is he doing here?”

Jiang Yuelou smiled

“He helped me figured out who kidnapped and attacked you”

Chen Yuzhi looked at him in surprise

“He…he did?”

Jiang Yuelou nodded

“Mmhm”

Chen Yuzhi blinked

“Oh”

Jiang Yuelou chuckled

“He says hello, by the way”

Chen Yuzhi hummed, just as Jiang Yuelou leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of his head

“Just take it easy.  Just rest.  Today is all about resting”

Chen Yuzhi huffed softly

“All I’ve been doing is resting”

Jiang Yuelou chuckled

“Because you need it, dear”

Chen Yuzhi hummed before he shifted so that he was lying down, his head resting on Jiang Yuelou’s lap while the rest of him stretched out on the couch, Xiao Bai resting on his stomach

“Fine.  If you insist”

Jiang Yuelou chuckled fondly before he reached up and gently began to run his fingers through Chen Yuzhi’s hair, watching as Chen Yuzhi slowly relaxed and slipped off to sleep

As he watched him sleep, Jiang Yuelou couldn’t help but smile fondly

He had his husband back in his arms again

Everything was right with the world