#like I guess you could argue it could have all been built up to better but like. that describes the whole show lol.

[holydramon]

finished magia record and it sure was. an anime.

[hwaslayer]

the space between us three (jyh) | four.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 4.5k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/ sexually implied content, sorry more of a filler chapter cause i need to build this up lol 😅 but more oc x yunho!!, taehyun & jihoon tryna play cupid, well ok i guess everyone is at this point lmao, seora and yunho have a lil heart to heart

Monday comes a lot quicker than expected, but you're glad the weekend was better than you thought it'd turn out. Running errands and spending the day with your parents was actually a lot calmer this time around— no bickering or arguing unnecessarily, mom wasn't picking at things or pointing out specific details just to work your last nerve.

It was good. It did make you feel bad for not being better about spending more time with them, though.

But, that's why you vowed to work on it with your brother and you knew you both were serious about making it happen. Better late than never, and you and Wonwoo could admit to your faults. 

That's progress and a way forward, right?

Anyway, the agenda went as promised with your family— you ended up at the grocery store for about an hour before driving down to the pharmacy and different furniture stores until you and your parents settled on a new, good quality couch they were satisfied with. When you had gotten back to the house that afternoon, mom sent you away with towers of food and Yunho hadn't gotten back home yet.

Couldn't help but wonder what his typical weekend was like with his daughter. Was that weird? He seems so laidback [despite his dad tone coming out on Saturday before leaving], it just makes you wonder what him and his daughter do to fill their downtime together.

Must be cute.

When you got back home that afternoon, you had tidied up your place and showered off the early day's activities before preparing a charcuterie board, wine and other finger foods for Noeul and Sian's arrival. It was a much needed sleepover since it had been awhile since the last one— the three of you getting caught up with work and being too exhausted to meet outside of it. You and the girls talked about everything and anything; from new updates on old friends from college and highschool and analyzing every detail of their recent photos on IG, to love, dating and all the juicy one-nights, to what's been on the grocery list lately and then finally, openly exploring the topic of sex toys and all that glory.

Very, very much needed.

In fact, sleeping in the next day and getting breakfast with Noeul and Sian at the cute café nearby was the cherry on top. You finally got to taste that thick, milk bread with coconut-pandan jam sprinkled with tiny bits of sea salt.

Your weekend was better than expected.

For Yunho, it was a bit chaotic; filled with an impromptu sleepover with 11-going-on-12-year old girls screaming and singing at the top of their lungs after a long day of shopping and eating out. They all plopped onto the large air mattress Yunho set up in the middle of the living room, their voices slowly dying down as the hours went on. They didn't fall asleep until a bit past midnight, which is when Yunho decided to finally shut off his TV and get some shut-eye himself.

Then, the morning came and it was chaos all over again. 

He overheard the girls talking and giggling until Seora gently knocked and walked into her dad's room to wake him up. His eyes fluttered open, his daughter sitting on the edge of his bed poking at his cheek. He sleepily chuckled and sat up, ruffling her hair messily while she asked if he could take them to a specific breakfast spot deep into the city. 

A spot that has thick, milk bread with coconut-pandan jam sprinkled with tiny bits of sea salt and other unique delicacies. 

Even though he's exhausted, he gets up and gets ready anyway. Not only because of Seora, but because he can finally get a taste of that fig sesame and honey danish and grab a bag of those milk bread dinner rolls for him and Seora to indulge in.

It's too bad he had just missed you leaving the same spot. 

Monday mornings are usually a drag, especially coming from a much-needed, good, relaxing weekend. But today, you're powered up on coffee and making sure you have your things [and yourself] ready for your meeting with Yunho. You're not sure why you're nervous; perhaps, it goes back to you feeling lost and confused about different aspects of this project. You don't know much about the IT and clinical informatics side, and you don't wanna come off as dumb, clueless.

Especially in front of him.

You're just hoping for the best, and you've sat yourself in the booked conference room to go through old emails, old messages, to get yourself up to speed. You do remember being looped into certain threads, but not paying any attention to it because it didn't particularly concern you at the time— which, is a good thing you did because you definitely would not have known there were specifics about the ordering system that the higher-ups had already asked for and that they were already working on the build. You can ask Yunho where things are at from that point.

That’ll be a good start.

As you continue to busily type away for other aspects of the project and personal tasks, you almost miss the figure that passes by and walks into the room.

"Woah, you're here early. Why?" Your eyes slightly widen at Yunho's tall figure strolling in with a cup or coffee in his hand.

"Because I wanted to be early, but apparently you're earlier." He smirks, plopping down next to you. "Working hard already? Goodmorning, by the way.”

"Sorry, goodmorning.” You scrunch your nose a bit, embarrassed at how you greeted him. “I just.. don't wanna sound dumb in front of you so I've been getting all my notes together." He chuckles.

"Never? No question or thought is dumb, Y/N. I don't expect you to know everything about our team. It's complicated."

"Still, I wanna be prepared."

"You are." He reassures you and it instantly comforts you.

"Are you gonna sit there?" He looks at you with a brow cocked up.

"Yeah, why? Do you want me to sit across from you?"

"No, I'm just asking since it's us two. I wasn't sure if you'd be comfortable that way." You chuckle.

"Oh, sorry. I hope you don't mind. I invited Taehyun and Jihoon from my team. I thought they could come to meetings in case I'm not around for whatever reason." He shrugs. "Plus, it just helps me to have extra heads involved in case I needa delegate."

"Makes sense, I don't mind. The more the merrier."

"Is it okay to still sit here?" He smiles and you nod.

"Sure." You laugh. There's a small silence that falls between the two of you while you both type away, along with Yunho's Slack notifications going off. But, none of it feels uncomfortable.

"So, how was your weekend with your parents?"

"Good! I just tagged along and ran errands with them. Picked up some meds, groceries. They finally got a new couch for the living room, too."

"Your mom has been talking about getting a new couch for awhile."

"She's definitely happy now." You look at him. "You know, I.. did not know you were the neighbor my mom had been talking about."

"Good things, I hope?"

"Oh yeah, my parents love you and your daughter." You look at him.

"They're great. They take care of us a lot, and I appreciate it. Especially on days when I can't be home right away. Your mom looks after my little-but-not-so-little one." You give him a tiny smile. "I— how come you don't swing by often? If you don't mind me asking."

"Just busy, honestly. My brother, too. He's younger. We get caught up with work and plans."

"Your parents talk about you two a lot. They adore you both and they always hope you'll come by more often."

"I know." You look down at your laptop. "We just suck at slipping in time for them, I'm gonna admit. And it's just.." You pause, not wanting to dump your life story and feelings on Yunho on a Monday morning. He looks at you with a hint of concern in his eyes, but you brush it off. "Anyway, we're trying. We know we needa do better." He smiles a bit. "My brother and I have talked about it and have come up with a plan so that we're slotting in time for them."

"That's all that matters. Are you and your brother close?"

"Very, yes. If you're around next weekend, you might get to meet him because we'll be swinging by together."

"Hm." Yunho hums. "My daughter has a basketball game and it's about an hour out. We might be gone by then, but if you and your brother are around when we get back, I'll gladly stop by to say hi."

"Sounds good. How was your weekend?" You ask and Yunho lets out a small chuckle at the way you try to fill in the silence while waiting for Taehyun and Jihoon.

"Busy. I, uh, hung out with a friend on Friday." He clears his throat. "Then took my daughter and her friends out on Saturday. When I saw you.. that's where we were going."

"Aw cute. Where did you guys go?"

"Well, I picked up one of my bestfriends and we took them to the Samsung Star Mall."

"That's a big mall. Sounds like you were there all day."

"Damn near, yeah. Then, grabbed some takeout, let the girls pick up their things from their homes and headed back to the house. They were yelling and singing like crazy after dinner." You laugh.

"That's very cute." He does a slight head tilt.

"Anything for my daughter." His eyes are glued onto his screen.

"What's her name?"

"Seora."

"That's a beautiful name." He gives you a small toothless smile.

"It is, isn't it?" You nod.

"What'd you do on Sunday? I assume you were able to sleep in since the girls must've been tired."

"Kinda, but Seora ended up waking me and asking if I could bring them to a café for breakfast. They were so excited about it."

"Which?"

"We went to Morning Toast." You gasp and look at him.

"That morning? What time?"

"Like 11?"

"I had literally just left right before it hit 11!"

"Really? That's too bad. It would've been nice to see you." He chuckles a bit, and it makes the heat rise to your cheeks. "Though, I had temporarily adopted like, 2 extra daughters so it was a little crazy. I might've looked a little out of it." He thinks for a minute. "Maybe it was best you didn't see me at that moment." 

"What do you mean? I'm sure it would've been fine if we did run into each other. I'm positive you probably didn't even look that way."

"How could you be so sure, hm?" He teases lightly before chuckling. "I've had pre-teens singing at the top of their lungs at the house and in the car all weekend. Pretty sure your parents probably heard them next door." You laugh.

"Sounds like your house is the place to be. Maybe I'll have to inquire about a quote for hosting my birthday there." 

"I just need about 3 months advance notice." You look at him and shake your head, giggling. At this point, his team lead, Taehyun, walks in with a smile on his face though it's obvious he's a bit stressed and has been running around.

"Hi! Sorry! Was caught up with a ticket." He rushes in, slightly out of breath and frazzled. Behind him is another team member that you haven't met yet. He meets your eyes and gives you a tiny bow with a small smile, slipping into the seat next to Taehyun in front of you.

"Hey, I'm Jihoon." He sits. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the meeting last week. Was tied up with some urgent issues."

"Oh, no worries! It's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N. I'm one of the project managers, mainly supporting the pediatrics unit."

"Good to meet you, too." Jihoon smiles. "It's nice to get some communication from the peds side."

"Yeah, I feel the same." You chuckle. "So, I saw that the build was already in the process." They all nod.

"It sure is. But, I thought it'd be good to give you a brief introduction to both of the IT and clinical informatics team just so you know how we interact." Yunho connects his laptop to the TV, causing you to turn your attention towards the screen. "Is that okay?"

"No, please. I'd love that. Take the floor." He smiles before running his finger down his bottom lip and beginning his presentation. He starts off by re-introducing the three of them before going through the names of his other direct reports. The next bits of his presentation explaining the core tasks his team is responsible for and the differences with the clinical informatics team. He goes through the key people in that team and you find yourself typing away while glancing at the screen every now and then. You find his explanation incredibly detailed but simple enough for you to understand. It's super helpful, and you feel like you've definitely learned a lot from the meeting alone. This was the one area you weren't entirely familiar with, and it was nice that the three were open to answering your questions and clarifying anything that might've seemed confusing. You also learned that they've gotten a good amount of the planning and groundwork done for the main hospital unit. Now, they can focus a lot of their efforts towards the pediatric unit.

At the end of the meeting, Yunho gives you the floor to ask any more questions. You take the opportunity to clarify last minute things that come up before you're satisfied enough to finish up.

"So, let's plan on meeting with the full group next week. Then from there on, biweekly meetings? I'm sure the group won't be opposed unless there's absolutely no updates to provide in that time frame. We can always cancel if needed."

"Good with me, boss lady." Yunho says, giving you a small smile.

"Not even." You chuckle, typing up the last of your notes. "I'm just trying to coordinate and make sure things run smoothly."

"Which is a shit ton since you're overseeing the entire project." Jihoon laughs.

"Yeah. You're spearheading the whole thing and without you, it'd probably be a mess." Taehyun chuckles a bit. "We don't really communicate with the pediatric hospital much, so it's nice to have a bridge." You nod.

"I agree."

"Definitely boss lady if you ask me." Yunho looks at you, causing you to shy away for a moment. 

"Maybe you and I can set up weekly meetings to update each other?" You look at Yunho, then Taehyun and Jihoon. "Or Taehyun, Jihoon—"

"Yunho is probably the best. He's everywhere. He knows everything." Taehyun chimes in quick. At first, Jihoon and Yunho are confused even though, it's definitely the right answer and they'll always defer to their manager in these situations— not because they don't think they can handle it or relay the proper information, but because it just makes them feel more comfortable doing so. Jihoon cocks a brow up before Taehyun meets his gaze and gives him a look that tells him he should play along and go with it.

"O-Oh, right. I agree." Jihoon stumbles on his words a bit before returning his full attention to you. "Yunho can answer all your questions without issue."

"Yeeeeah." Yunho says, slightly furrowing his brows at them before looking down at you. "Let's just keep it between us? If I really can't make it, I'll just email you with some notes or something."

"Okay." You chuckle, making a note to coordinate calendars with Yunho later and set a reoccurring invite. "I'll message you later about some good days and times. See if we have any matches."

"Cool."

"Well, thanks guys!" You smile at them brightly. "I really appreciate your time and for thoroughly walking me through everything."

"Of course." They all say in their own way as you shut your laptop and stand.

"We're gonna debrief in here for the remaining minutes before the next meeting comes in." You nod.

"See you next week? Feel free to email or slack me if anything comes up."

"You too." You wave at them before walking out of the room and shutting the door, finally feeling like you can breathe comfortably again. You speed off to your desk once you’re out of view, hoping to see Noeul and Sian at some point to talk about the meeting.

Meanwhile, Yunho watches as you leave— his eyes trailing your figure until you're no longer in view down the hallway, and Jihoon is snorting while typing away.

“Debrief time!” Taehyun says.

"Soooo." He finally breaks the silence post-laugh in a sing-song tone. "How'd your thing with Ara go?"

"Uh." Yunho laughs a bit and they both look at him confused. "No, it was fine. It's just.. I don't know? I don't think I feel anything for her to be quite honest."

"Well, first of all. What do you mean you don't know? What did you guys end up doing? How did we get to this point?" Taehyun asks, making Yunho do another head tilt.

"Tough crowd. Too many technical questions." They laugh. "We just had ramen at the new restaurant and then we hung out at her place." They both pause and look over their screens to meet his eyes.

"What happened to 'we're just gonna do a harmless dinner and call it a night?'"

"For the most part, it was."

"What about the other part that wasn't?"

"We ended up making out and then.. I stopped it." Yunho says calmly, which is confusing Taehyun and Jihoon.

"Oh shit." Jihoon looks at Yunho with an amused expression. "What?! You didn't feel anything for her?"

"I— no, not really."

"Damn." Jihoon ticks his head to the side.

"What'd she say when you stopped it?"

"She understood where I was coming from, I think? I tried to lay it down gently and I told her I didn't wanna do that to her. I thought we were good as friends, and she deserves someone that is sure of their feelings."

"That's good."

"Yeah. Well. I hope so? I hope it didn't ruin our friendship."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. She might need some space for a bit, but I'm sure it'll be okay. I know she appreciated it."

"Yeah." Yunho looks at them. "Anyway, back to the main discussion.” He laughs a bit. “I think we have our work cut out for us. We should continue to stay on top of those tickets and try not to let them pile up, but we should also prioritize securing the network for this unit. Making sure there's no roadblocks. I'll keep up with the clinical informatics team to keep mapping out the ordering system." The two ahead of him nod simultaneously. "Feel free to delegate things on your plate to other team members if you don't have the capacity to take them on right now."

"Got it, boss." Jihoon adds.

"You know, if I may say so." Jihoon and Yunho look at him, confused. "Y/N's pretty." Taehyun smirks.

“Oh, here he goes.”

"She's also really nice." Jihoon laughs, knowing exactly where this is going. "Seems like you two get along easily."

"I didn't know our team doubled up as a matchmaking service."

"Only for you." Jihoon snorts at Taehyun's remark.

"So, that's what the whole thing was about."

"What whole thing?" Taehyun acts dumb.

"Having her set up those meetings with me only. Even though the both of you have covered in the past.”

"I mean, it's only right." Taehyun smiles. "Besides, you can learn a lot about each other, too."

"Uh huh." Yunho looks at them before shutting his laptop. "We'll see how it goes."

"You agree though, right?"

"About what?"

"About Y/N?" Taehyun and Jihoon follow Yunho's lead as he stands and stretches, grabbing his laptop to prepare heading out back to their office.

"And if I say yes?"

"Then remember to thank me in the end when it all works out." Yunho laughs.

"Can't get anything past you two either, I see."

"Did Seora know about the date?"

"No, but I also think she has inkling because Hwa's dumbass let it slip." They laugh. "I called it a team dinner and he somehow let 'date' slip at some point during his stay with her."

"Ah, but I'm sure she'd be fine with it."

"I don't know. She's hard to read. We talked a bit about it this weekend but even as her dad, I can't really gauge what she means or how she feels."

⇢FLASHBACK

"Daddy." Yunho looks at Seora as they make their way home from dropping off her friends. Her voice is low, and it's obvious she's tired from her weekend but content. 

"Mhm?"

"Thank you for letting my friends spend the weekend with me."

"Course, baby girl." He chuckles. "I'm glad you had fun."

"I did." Her voice is a bit raspy from all the yelling and singing they did all weekend. "It was so much fun. And I got so many cute things this weekend."

"You're welcome." Yunho teases.

"Thank you." She laughs. "You're the best."

"Mm." He hums. "I try to be."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot." There's a pause, and Seora is fiddling with the ends of her hair.

"Nevermind." She says close to a whisper.

"Ace." He turns to her at a green light.

"I just don't know how to ask. But, it isn't anything super important anyway. Let’s forget it—”

"No. You opened the door. Remember what I said about keeping an open communication between us?"

"Mhm." She hums. "Well..” She nervously fiddles with her fingers now. “I just wanna know if Uncle Hwa was right? Did you go on a date?"

"Hm, well. I went out to dinner with a friend. That's all."

"Do you like your friend?"

"No. We're really just friends." Pause. "Besides. I know you wouldn't be happy, right?" He chuckles a bit to make it a little light-hearted joke, but there's a genuine curiosity behind his question. He hasn't talked to his daughter about this, and he's a little surprised she even brought it up. But, maybe she too, had been curious.

"I mean." She sighs. "Uncle Hwa told me to keep an open mind about it."

"He did now? But, how do you really feel, Seora?"

"Of course I’d want you to be happy. It'll just be different, though. It's always been us two and we haven't really had anyone like that around besides mom. I can’t really see it right now.”

"I know." Yunho responds quietly. 

"I want you to be happy, though. Just saying it’ll be weird if that ever happens. Might take time, I guess.” She looks at him sadly. “You won’t replace me or mom, right?”

“Never.” Yunho’s heart sinks. "When and if that time comes, I'll always prioritize you no matter what." She smiles. "Okay? None of that.”

"Okay." She giggles a bit when her dad reaches over to gently massage the top of her head. 

"Now, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you miss mom?" He asks.

"Yeah. I do. I think about her sometimes, but it's hard when I don't have many memories with her."

"I know, I'm sorry. I wish you had more time with her."

"I do, too. At least I got some time with her." Yunho nibbles on his bottom lip when he feels her response hit him in the gut. Right now, he knows he's not ready to talk more about Eunha. He knows he can't handle it. He already feels himself internally panicking, the anxiety rising. So, he pivots.

He pivots because he just can't.

"Yeah, well. We have each other now and that's all that matters. You're stuck with your dad. Sorry ‘bout it.”

"Stop it." She laughs.

"Promise me you'll keep talking to me if you ever feel sad or alone, hm? Don't ever think you can't talk to me about these things, ace."

"I know. You never make me feel that way."

"Good."

"Love you."

"Love you, too." She smiles and leans her head back against the head rest. "I have one more favor to ask before the weekend ends."

"And what's that?"

"Can we have our own little slumber party in the living room tonight?"

"As long as you promise to shut off the TV at a reasonable time since you have school tomorrow."

"Promise." She puts up her pinky. "Pinky promise." Yunho multitasks and wraps his finger around hers.

"Let's do it."

⇢END

"It'll all work out how it should, don't worry, boss. It ain't gonna be like this forever." Jihoon adds as they finally make their way back to their office area.

"Thanks. And thanks for joining the meeting today."

"All good!" Yunho gives them one last smile before slipping into his office and settling down. He has a few more meetings and other tasks to tend to in a bit, but his first priority shifts when he sees a slack notification from you. He instantly pulls up the app on his desktop after connecting his laptop to the monitor, a small smile forming on his face when he sees your message.

you: should we just do mondays at 10am to keep things simple? i mean.. totally get if you don't wanna see me bright and early on a monday, we can check other days. 😊

yunho: no, mondays at 10am are perfect.

yunho: & don't say that. 🫤 it'll be nice to see you on monday mornings. 

yunho: usually it's chaos or everyone's dead from the weekend. no in between.

yunho: you'll be the nice balance!

you: uh huh. just remember you said this, not me. 🫡 i’ll send an invite!

yunho: all good, i'll take full responsibility for it. haha. thank you!

"I'm gonna call it right now. You and Yunho are gonna get close and it'll be the start of something new." You shrug while Noeul reads the messages over your shoulder.

"I mean, whatever happens, happens. I won't be opposed to it. He's cute and super nice." You poke your bottom lip out.

"And your parents literally love him and his daughter to death already. It's a match-made in heaven."

"Well, no. I wouldn't say that." You look at Noeul. "Besides, I don't even know if he's single. Before the weekend rolled around, I saw him getting all smiley and smitten with one of the nurses at the hospital. I think they went out together."

"Ah, you never know! Just keep your options open, but definitely don't shut him out if he's dropping little hints. Get to know him more, see what he dishes out. If he's taken, then you've earned another friend and it could blossom into a great friendship. No loss there!" Noeul crosses her arms and smirks. "If not, then please make sure you enjoy yourself."

"Sometimes, I really hate when you and Sian are right. Makes me feel—"

Ding.

Your phone goes off at the corner of your desk with a new notification. You lean over to grab your phone and check, your eyes widening in the process:

yunou._.u started following you.

"Oh bitch, he is definitely single." You and Noeul quickly skim his page before you shake your head and plop your phone down.

"Stop it! You never know."

"That man barely has posts!" Noeul picks up your phone again and plugs in the code. "Look! Pics of his surroundings. His daughter. Him and his friends. That's it!"

"You're impossible."

"You are! You just won't accept the fact that an extremely hot dilf could be coming your way and I don't know why!"

"Don't say that!" You quickly look around. "Can you keep it down?!"

"I oughta smack you upside the head for that!"

"Go away, don't you have another meeting in like, 10 minutes?" Noeul looks at her phone and it's her turn to be surprised.

"Oh shit, more like 5 now. I gotta go and hop on this call." Noeul begins to rush away, but she turns back towards you again. "You better follow him back, Y/N!"

"I am! Go!" You wave her off and she turns halfway to finally head back down to her office— barely making it in 5. You look at your phone once more before giving it a few minutes, letting the notification settle before deciding enough time has passed since Yunho followed you.

You didn't wanna be too quick, right?

But, when the notification comes back on Yunho's phone saying that you've followed him back, he can't help but smile. The notification puts him in a good mood, enough for him to figure out his next plan on how to get to know you better.

He'll settle for a simple like on your latest photo. Maybe, the next one, too.

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies @yusalterego @hwa-stars @hyukssunflower @chngbnwf @jaytheatiny @lucid-galaxys-world @chaotic-floral @sofkloster @honeyrecommends @hwashua-luv @luvv4bby @spicxbnny @pandyandy71

[bonesxbows]

Infection (Arthur Nightingale X Reader)

My Masterlist

You can't get sick...right? You're a child of the void, immune to simple bacterial viruses. But yet when you pull into the Mall's garage one day, head throbbing and body aching, you can't help but wonder if that's actually true. To make matters even worse you've been so busy running errands and missions for the Hex that you haven't been keeping an eye on the calendar; it's closer to the end of the time loop than you thought. Arthur's the first to remind you, and the first to notice your change in health.

(WARNINGS) - Graphic Descriptions of Flu like symptoms - Female Drifter (she/her pronouns used)

Guess who got sick right before new years eve and wrote this as a way to make themselves feel better because they're missing out on all the fun parties

I'm still getting a grasp on Arthur's character and I also wrote this while extremely sick so sorry for any mistakes/out-of-character moments

Banners by @strangergraphics

The mission had gone as usual, no kinks or hiccups, smooth sailing as you and your squad mowed down techrot hoard after hoard, the smell of burnt acid and chitin-filled technological carapaces burying the under levels of the old mall. But at some point, your trigger finger began to lag, your steps became staggered and you could feel phantom sweat coat your forehead from within the safety of your warframe. You were falling behind. They wouldn’t leave you, but they wouldn't wait for you either. So you forced your feet to keep moving, willing the energy to keep flowing through your warframe to fend off the techrot surrounding you. By the time you made it back to the garage, you wanted to collapse.

You left your frame next to your atomicycle, not having the energy to pilot the suit even another step. The bundle of supplies you had brought back for the Hex felt like a bag of concrete on your shoulder, threatening to topple you over as your knees screamed in protest, your muscles aching right down to your bones. You were so ready to just trudge up to the backroom and fall into the nearest couch you could find. Luckily, by some small grace, help had arrived. You heard the sliding doors that separated the garage from the rest of the mall glide open, metallic footsteps clicking against the tile floor.

“You’re not usually gone this long. Everything go alright?” You heard him ask, his accent coating over the forming headache in the back of your mind like warm drizzled honey.

You sighed. You didn’t want to snap at him, but you were in so. Much. Pain. Standing on your feet physically hurt. “Everything went fine, Arthur. Can you take these and distribute them, please? I need to...lie down. For a moment.” You kept your voice sweet and plastered a soft smile on your face as you handed the bag of supplies in his direction. He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he studied you. He knew you; ever since you had first arrived you never stopped, never slowed down, always bouncing to the next mission or next bounty, so why now, of all times, were you stopping to take a rest? There was something off, but it was so hard to tell with you. You weren’t built like him, or like he used to be anyway, you weren’t exactly human. He couldn’t read you like he could other people.

“Are you…feeling alright, love?” He took the bag from you, lessening the weight on your body, and immediately you sighed in relief. Your eyes flickered to the door, eager to book it towards the backroom now that you were free from your last responsibility and could finally crash, but Arthur stood in your way, and it was clear he had no intention of moving until you answered his question.

“I’m fine, really. I’m immune to everything, remember? Child of the void and all that. I’m just tired. After some sleep I’ll be right back to normal, promise. You worry too much.” You spoke quickly and then kissed him on the cheek, getting a satisfactory answer out as fast as possible and leaving him no room to argue as you dashed off towards the door. Hopefully, he wouldn’t chase you down so you could actually take that nap you so desperately wanted.

You made it to the backroom in record time, flopping face-first onto the nearest soft surface you could find and passing out as soon as your head made contact.

It wasn’t long though before you woke up retching, a wet cough rattling your chest and scratching your throat on the way out. You groaned, sitting up and leaning back against the back of the couch. You blinked against the lights above you, pulling the blanket that covered your arms up over your head…which definitely hadn’t been there when you had fallen asleep. You poked an eye out, looking around the room, but no one else was there with you. Well, no other people. Your eyes landed on your kubrow who had snuggled up next to the foot of the couch nearest you, curled into a ball, a note laid next to their feet. You reached down to pick it up, scritching their fur as a reward for safeguarding the note for you when you did so. They sighed contently in response.

The white of the paper was blinding to your straining eyes, your headache having only increased from earlier, and his fancy scrawled handwriting didn’t help -you figured it had to be a Britannic thing, Eleanor wrote the same way-, but you managed to decode the note.

You looked cold. Text me when you wake up, team’s taken off the rest of today. I’m all yours. -A

You couldn’t help but smile underneath your little blanket cocoon. It took an extraordinary amount of effort but you stood up, your knees wobbled and your back ached but you willed yourself to stay upright, stumbling your way over to your POM-2 PC. You pushed the on button, the screen flickering to life, making you outwardly hiss as the blue light assaulted your eyes and shot to the very back of your skull like a laser. But you pushed forward, ignoring the pain, and clicked on Arthur’s chatbox.

Hey, A <3

Broadsword is typing…

You’re awake. I take it you got my note then?

I did. Something special going on I don’t know about? You never let the team take days off. 

Broadsword is typing…

Check your calendar, love. 

Broadsword has gone offline.

You squinted in confusion, a small flash of panic grabbing hold of your heart. Had you forgotten something important? You clicked off of the chat page and onto the built-in calendar with the PC, the boxes flashing onto the screen. They were all greyed out, you had reached the end of another month, nothing special there. But then you saw it. December on the top of the screen. December 31st. Today was the end of the time loop. New Year’s Eve.

Metallic footsteps sounded off of the wooden floorboards behind you. You were still facing the PC, dumbstruck by your discovery, nothing but a mass of blanket from his point of view. He came up behind you and snaked his hands around your waist, slotting his head into the crook of your neck, though he was met with a mess of fluffy blanket instead of your warm skin. His eyes flicked between your face and the PC’s screen still brought up on the greyed-out calendar. “Figure out what today is, then?” He whispered.

You leaned back into Arthur’s chest, the heat radiating off of his warframe a welcoming comfort through your blanket.“I didn’t realize.” You spoke, answering his question, but yet you didn’t recognize your own voice. Your eyes widened at the unexpected sound, a hoarse croaking noise as the words scratched out of your throat. Arthur pulled his head away from your shoulder and spun you around as soon as he heard it too, forcing you to face him, his hands now on your shoulders and a concerned look on his face as his brow furrowed. A chill ran over your body at the abrupt removal of his warmth from your back, causing you to shiver, a motion that didn’t go unnoticed by Arthur. He was looking over you, studying you. You pulled the blanket closer around you, becoming sheepish under his gaze. He took in everything he hadn’t noticed before in addition to your recent shiver and scratchy voice; the way your eyes seemed to sink into your face surrounded by dark circles, the unusual dullness in your complexion, and the way both your shoulders and your spine seemed to slump towards the floor as if the weight of a million bricks rested upon you.

A small smirk crawled over his face, his assumptions from earlier now being undeniably confirmed. “So, ‘child of the void that’s immune to everything’ huh?”

You sniffled, sticking your nose into the air. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice scratched out like a destroyed record, the words catching in your throat and making you hack and cough, breaking whatever semblance of composure you were trying to feign. You brought your elbow up to your face to catch the cough, the fuzzy blanket encompassing everything as you moved. Arthur carefully dug his fingers into the muscles of your shoulders and neck as you coughed and retched up the fluid in your lungs, the gentle pressure a soothing distraction from the pain coating your throat with every new breath you took. Eventually, you stopped, now looking exhausted from the effort, and you couldn’t help but collapse against his chest, your head finding the crook of his neck. Your breathing became ragged against the metal platings and exo-flesh of his neck, though he couldn’t feel it the sound of it alone made concern worm its way to his heart. He didn’t think about it often, he didn’t want to unless he had to, honestly; but moments like this were blatant reminders of just how fragile you were compared to him. He sighed and curled his arms around you, holding you against him and running his hands up and down your back comfortingly. “Hm. Sounds to me like you’re sick, if I had to guess.”

“Ugh.” Was all you could muster for a response, the sound reverberated through your chest instead of your already painful throat. He reached down and hooked his hands under your thighs, pulling you up and bundling you into his arms so he could carry you. You made no protest to his actions, immediately wrapping your legs and arms around his torso, albeit weakly. He carried you back over to the couch, settling down with you in his lap, the blanket not forgotten about and cocooned around your shoulders. You huddled into the warmth radiating off of his mechanical body as another shiver crawled over your spine, causing you to shake. He let his hands roam your back absentmindedly, working his fingers against your muscles gently and every so often letting one of them wander upwards towards your hair, carding his fingers through the strands soothingly.

Though the quiet moment didn’t last for long as his ears twitched, picking up the sound of footsteps coming up the metal staircase that separated your living space from your workshop. He instinctively tensed, his eyes whipping to the doorway as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, ready to protect you at a second's notice. The mall was a safe zone, he knew that in the back of his mind, but he always prepared for the worst. The need to protect you, especially now given how weak you were in your current state, greatly outweighed any rationality to his thoughts. You were oblivious to everything happening, your eyes long since being closed ever since he had sat down with you.

“You two are adorable.” He heard in his head, his guard dropping as he saw both his sister and Aoi poke around the corner. She had been listening when his instincts had kicked in.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you two knock?”

“Don’t you two answer your comms?” He heard in his head again, a teasing smile on Eleanor’s face.

“Didn’t hear them go off. Sorry.” He explained.

“You, not paying attention to your comms? What’s got you so sidetracked?” Aoi retorted, though her face showed she was teasing as well. Eleanor, however, had already found the answer to Aoi’s question. Her face fell when she saw you clinging onto Arthur’s chest, your breathing harsh and unnatural and your hair plastered to your forehead by sweat. She knelt down in front of him, studying you for signs of something she had long since forgotten even existed.

“Is she sick?” She asked him telepathically.

Aoi had also heard the question, catching up on the details laid out before her. She sat down on the other side of the couch, her brow furrowing and a small frown adorning her lips. “Can she even get sick?”

“Apparently,” Eleanor answered in their minds, half sarcastically. “Is there anything we can do?”

“What could we do? We don’t have a cure, she’s in no condition to go back to her time and retrieve one, that’s even if they’ve discovered one.” He ran through options in his head, none of them seeming feasible.

“So…what? We just let it run its course? She seems…miserable.” Aoi’s voice was laced with sympathy. You had done so much for them, it felt awful not being able to help you in return.

“I don’t think we have any other choice, unfortunately.” They could hear the pang of guilt in Eleanor’s words as they echoed in their heads, her lips parting in a regretful sigh as she stood up.

“What did you two stop by here for, anyway?” He asked, his eyes flicking to you as you shifted in his arms, but you were still fast asleep.

“We were going to gather in the commons to celebrate the countdown, you know, since we avoided annihilation and all that this year, we figured why not, and we were going to ask if you and Drifter wanted to join us, but…” Aoi explained, her voice trailing off towards the end as her eyes landed on the bundle of blanket that was you in Arthur’s lap.

“I doubt she’d feel up to a party and I’d rather not leave her here alone, so if it’s all the same to you lot I think I’ll stay here with her for the night.” Both women gave him looks of understanding to his reply, but as soon as Arthur had answered your eyes fluttered open and your head shot up, instantly causing you to go dizzy from your sudden movement and you had to place a hand against his chest to stabilize yourself. But that didn’t stop you.

“No, Arthur, you should go.” You looked at him, your words croaking out just the same as they had before, startling the two women who hadn’t heard the severity of your sickness yet.

“I’m not leaving you here by yourself.” He retorted, brown and white eyes burrowing into yours. He knew it was selfish to argue with you when you were less than healthy, you stood no chance at winning, but he didn’t care. Not when it came to looking after you.

Eleanor and Aoi took that as their cue to leave before the conversation got any more heated. “If you do decide to join us, you know where you can find us,” Aoi told the two of you before standing up and making way for the door.

“Take care of her,” Eleanor told her brother inside of his head, a message only he could hear, as she followed Aoi out.

You waited until you heard the familiar click of the backroom door shutting before trying to bicker with the man in front of you. “You deserve to celebrate.” You told him, fighting against the hoarseness in your throat to get your point across.

“And you don’t? We'd still be dead on the floor of that reactor room if you hadn’t intervened. I won’t leave you here to celebrate alone if I have a say about it.” He brushed the sweat-stricken hair off of your forehead as he spoke.

You huffed, the noise sounding more like a wheeze. “You’re stubborn, Nightingale.” You wanted to cross your arms, to pout, to argue back and force him to spend time with his friends instead of wasting his night away in a stuffy old room. But you barely had enough energy to keep your head up as it was.

He couldn’t help but laugh, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “So I’ve been told.”

You didn’t remember falling back asleep, or even when you had laid your head back down onto Arthur’s shoulder, but the next thing you knew he was gently squeezing your hand, trying to wake you. You stirred for a moment, your eyelids fluttering as you came back to reality. “Wake up, love.” You heard him whisper into your ear. But it was then that all of the pain came flooding back, hitting you all at once. You groaned, feeling the stiffness in your bones and the aches throbbing in your muscles. Though you were grateful that your headache had at least subsided, you discovered that your throat still felt like sandpaper every time you swallowed, causing you to wince from the pain. You slowly raised your head up, coming face to face with Arthur. He had a small smile stuck on his face and you were caught off guard when he tilted his head and kissed you, his lips gentle against yours, as if too much pressure would shatter you like glass. You quickly leaned into it though, weakly wrapping an arm around his neck and inwardly smiling as you felt his hair tickle your cheekbones. He pulled away far too soon for your liking. “Happy New Year, love.”

You blinked in confusion for a moment before turning your head towards your POM-2; sure enough, the usual black screen was now flashing big green numbers, “00:00”. The loop had been completed. Soon it would all start again. Whether or not Arthur would still be there with you come morning was now a decision left in your hands.

[floralcyanide]

⊹ when in copenhagen

request: a basic one to start! shower sex with carmy? in which you and Carmy argue your way into showering together.

↝ pairing: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Fem!Reader

↝ warnings: spoilers for The Bear (kinda?), smut (mdni!), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, brief nipple play, fingering, arguing (a lot), shower sex

↝ word count: 2k

↝ author's note: finally watched The Bear!! so guess what that means lol (I hope you all enjoy this!! I didn't edit lowkey but oh well)

masterlist ⋇ divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

There’s not a lot of room on this boat.

It’s your first thought as you take time to tour where you’ll be residing for a while. You’re in Copenhagen, Denmark, for some cooking lessons, but not alone. You’re with your fellow chef and another student of Andrea Terry’s, Carmen Berzatto. You aren’t quite sure why Chef Terry sent both of you here simultaneously, but you have a few ideas. One of them is that the two of you solve the weird tension you have going on while you’re here. The other is to obviously kill two birds with one stone and send more than one chef to learn new ways to create. But the first idea seemed the most likely. The houseboat where you and Carmen, or Carmy, as he preferred to be called, are going to stay for the foreseeable future is fairly dinky and barely has room for two beds. One of them is technically the couch that pulls out into a full-size bed. You and Carmy will probably argue over who gets which bed. The two of you argue a lot over just about everything. Chef Terry is probably ecstatic that she gets a break from it for a while. 

It isn’t long before a disagreement on who gets to shower first begins. There’s also a side banter on who is making dinner or whether or not you’re ordering in and who is doing the ordering. It’s sort of your dynamic to never agree on anything, ever. You wish you had taken this trip separately, but of course, Chef Terry had to deal you a bad hand. Enriching your palettes is one thing, but your stress levels are another. You can’t see the tension between the two of you resolving any time soon, so you fear this supposed adventure isn’t going to be as enjoyable as you thought. 

In a moment of pressed anger, a sarcastic comment leaves your lips, “We could always just shower together and shut the fuck up about it.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Carmy rubs his chin before turning around and grabbing two towels from the linen closet.

“What?” you laugh incredulously, “You can’t be serious right now.”

“Look,” Carmy rolls his eyes, “It’s better than standing here arguing all fucking night, is it not?”

You cross your arms and stifle a pout, much like a child, but meet Carmy’s eyes reluctantly, “Fine. Just don’t look at me while I shower.”

“That’s going to be a little difficult since we’re going to be right next to each other, but I won’t have to try very hard anyway,” Carmy rolls his eyes.

You’re slightly offended by his comment but recover enough to follow him to the bathroom without responding. Carmy pulls off his shirt before turning on the shower and tossing it onto the floor. You do the same as the two of you quickly undress, avoiding each other’s gaze. You frown at the somewhat weak stream of water coming from the shower and dare to glance at Carmy’s bare back. You aren’t blind by any means; Carmy is attractive as hell. He’s built quite nicely in a physical manner and has flattering features. Plus, you can’t help but be attracted to how quickly he can match your attitude. So, keeping your eyes averted from Carmy’s naked, sculpted body is a little difficult on your end. But it doesn’t seem hard at all for your fellow traveler to avoid staring, as you had asked him to. It’s a little disappointing, but at least you finally get to wash off the stale sweat you’ve been sporting for hours. The shower stall is small but spacious enough to some degree for two people to fit.

Once both of you find yourselves under the water, Carmy wastes no time scrubbing himself with the soap he brought with him. You do the same, keeping your eyes to yourself and trying not to accidentally nudge him with your elbow. The two of you struggle to rinse off without nearly slipping or bumping into each other. 

“How about one of us washes first and rinses, and the other one goes next?” Carmy turns to you, sighing in frustration.

“Who goes first, then?” you raise an eyebrow, expecting to argue some more.

“You can, by all means,” Carmy offers, and your jaw almost drops.

You furrow your brow at him, “And what do I owe you for this lack of fussing?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs innocently.

The reality is that Carmy just wants to watch you. Not in a creepy way, or maybe it is sort of creepy, but he thinks you’re attractive, too. The no-watching rule doesn’t count if you aren't caught, right? Carmy just needs to be slick about it. You hesitantly take up the offer to fully wash first, squirting some shampoo into your palm before lathering it into your hair. 

“If you need me to get your back, just let me know, sweetheart,” Carmy offers jokingly.

You snort, “I will. Thanks.”

You manage to wash and condition your hair in peace, unknowingly having the burning blue eyes of Carmy on you. When it’s time to wash everywhere else, you take Carmy up on his offer just to see his reaction. You turn around to face him, his gaze quickly averting away.

“Actually, if you could get my back, I’d greatly appreciate it, Carm,” you smile cheekily, offering him your loofah.

“Oh,” he says, “I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on it,” he scoffs, taking the loofah from you.

“Stranger things have happened,” you shrug.

“Hmm. Really?” Carmy starts to gently scrub your back, “Like what?”

“Us showering together is literally one of those things,” you say plainly.

“No need for sass,” Carmy leans into your ear, “We were doing just fine there for a minute.”

You fight back a shiver at Carmy’s closeness, “You’re right. I’ll be quiet now. Keep scrubbing.”

Carmy switches the loofah for his hand, spreading the suds around with his palm, massaging your tense shoulders. You let out a small sigh at the feeling of yourself relaxing for the first time today. Carmy snakes his arm around you, handing you the loofah back.

“Who said for you to stop?” you turn your head around at him, and you’re met with his eyes being darker than usual.

“I could keep going, but uh,” Carmy clears his throat, “I can’t promise I’ll stop.”

“Why’s that?” you ask curiously, borderline teasing.

“Don’t trek into dangerous territory,” Carmy warns.

You turn to fully face him, “I know your comment earlier wasn’t true. About you not having to try hard not to stare.”

“How so?”

“You stare at me all the time. Don’t think I don’t notice it, Berzatto,” you smirk.

Carmy runs a hand through his wet hair, wondering if he should be so bold to respond with what he wants to. Instead, he takes you by surprise and grabs a hold of your hips, his thumbs bruisingly pressing into the fat of them. 

“I told you not to trek,” Carmy mutters, his eyes serious but darkening more by the second.

“What if I want to?” you say, testing just how far Carmy would go.

One of his hands wraps around the back of your neck, bringing you close to his face so he can crash his lips onto yours. You find yourself kissing back, your fingers tangling into Carmy’s hair at the nape of his neck. He pushes you against the shower wall, his one hand still holding you by your hip. Carmy slips his tongue inside your mouth, taking more control of the embrace. He takes a moment to run both hands along your sides, pulling your body closer to his. You feel him hard against your stomach.

“Need some help, Berzatto?” you pull away from the kiss, glancing down at Carmy’s length at attention against his toned abdomen, “I’m already trekking far enough, so why not?”

“Only if you let me make dinner after this,” Carmy says.

“Deal,” you shrug.

You reach between your bodies and begin stroking Carmy slowly, to which he lets out a breathy moan. He has thought about this moment far too many times- you grasping him and getting him off. Carmy thrives off your anger toward him, and you thrive off of his, too. It only seems plausible it’d end up like this.

Carmy daringly grasps one of your breasts as you pump your hand along his shaft at a quicker pace, squeezing you and teasing your nipple with his thumb. You hum at the feeling, spreading around the precum on his tip. Carmy’s hand moves from your chest down your stomach and to your heat, where he cups it, hesitant to go any further without permission.

“Don’t get scared on me now,” you look him in the eyes, “I expect something out of this, too. So go ahead.”

Carmy wastes no time dipping a finger into you, wanting to make a dig at you for being so wet already just from touching him, but he refrains. Instead, he adds another finger, using the heel of his hand to press against your clit. He thrusts his fingers inside you, finding a spot that causes you to grip him harshly in response.

“Keep doing that, and we’ll have to fuck,” you whine.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Carmy says, his free hand now carding through your hair, his fingernails grazing your scalp.

You pull Carmy’s fingers from you, replacing them with the head of his cock, “Take this as a promise and not a threat, then.”

Carmy drags himself along your slit before guiding himself inside your entrance, wincing at how tight you are as inch by inch is taken by your needy cunt. Once he’s fully inside you, Carmy boxes you in with his arms, pressing them to the shower wall on either side of your head. You wrap a leg around his waist and brace your hands on his chest as he starts thrusting. Carmy’s eyes bore into yours, drinking in your sounds and facial expressions with every jerk of his hips. You move an inch forward to capture his lips into a heated kiss, moving your body along with every movement of his. You moan pitifully into Carmy’s mouth as he hits a spot inside you that makes stars appear behind your eyelids. 

“Do that again,” you say weakly, and Carmy repeats the action except a little harder this time.

“Taking my cock so well that you can’t argue about it, can you?” Carmy says in your ear, “Now I know how to shut you up.”

“I’ll do whatever you want if you keep fucking me like this,” you throw your head back against the wall, your back pressed flush to it as Carmy fucks into you as fast as his hips allow.

“I’ll take you up on that, sweetheart,” Carmy smirks, nibbling your ear playfully.

You feel the familiar tightness in your belly growing, “I’m close.”

Carmy sneaks a hand between you and strokes your clit with his fingers, urging you to cum. You teeter closer to the edge as he presses his fingertips harder on the bundle of nerves, rubbing tight circles. With one particularly angled thrust, you orgasm hard around Carmy, your walls clenching his length pitifully. The feeling of you coming undone then triggers his release, and he fills you up to the brim with a low, guttural moan. The water has since turned cold, and once you unwrap yourself from Carmy, you immediately turn the shower off. 

“How about that dinner, Carm?”

Carmy is busy catching his breath but replies, “Sure thing. Just don’t argue about what I’m making, and we’ll be fine.”

You grab your towel, “You make it sound like I argue about everything, which isn't true. Sometimes, it’s you who wants to whine and complain.”

Carmy purses his lips at you, smacking your ass with his towel, “Just be grateful I fucked you and am also making you dinner.”

Once bedtime arrives, the two of you decide not to fight over who gets which bed and opt to share the main one. It’s better than making a fuss. Plus, falling asleep with Carmy’s arms around you was worth all the pent-up tension you had dealt with for so long.

[itsjustemily]

The Wilds AU-Megop

Orion felt his plating quake, which was the first sign that something was wrong, because he shouldn’t feel the cold. His functions would slow, perhaps stop until the warmth would return, but he wouldn’t know that until the notifications for the emergency shut down protocols overtook his HUD. The next sign came a few days after, when he felt the exhaustion set in, which wasn’t so abnormal if it weren’t for the fact that he had slept for nearly two days straight. Primus help him when Ratchet found out and commed him, nearly pleading for him to secure a spot on the next ship leaving the island and come back to the mainland, even sending Rodimus to try to convince him to leave to old stone hut. The young apprentice truly did try his best, telling Orion he would be able to come back once spring returned, that D-16 would feel better knowing he was safe. The mention of his old friend likely would have been enough if Rodimus had left the thought to fester in his mind, but Primus bless him, Rodimus never knew when to shut up. When he mentioned the violent storms that were coming from the south and the increase of bounty hunters, Orion’s thoughts traveled further to darker territories. Thinking of all the possibilities that his friend may have not even made it safely to warmer climates and caused him to rip away his transmitter. ‘I made a promise.’ Is all he would say when Rodimus asked why. All he could do was help reinforce the hut and prepare it for the harsh winter ahead of him before he bid his friend goodbye, promising to come back for him the moment the ocean and winds had calmed enough. Orion nearly had to push his worried friend onto the boat, waving goodbye before vanishing from the site of others, not wanting to face their grief and disappointment.

The first true frost Orion woke up to had left his limbs stiff and sore, feeling like he had been rusting away for ages as he sat up to start a fire. The duel tone grays in the sky seemed to dull the once vibrant island when he walked outside. The path before him was so familiar that he let himself wander while his thoughts trailed through memory and worry. The first time D-16 had brought him here, Orion had been so excited that he hadn’t noticed how close to the edge he was, until the dirt below his foot crumbled away and he was sent floating down the river. D-16 still hadn’t let him live down the fact that he had to chase him down and pull him out of the water, before taking Orion to the cliff sides to watch the passage of large cargo ships and fliers performing their aerials. They went there often to sit and trade stories, D telling Orion about the island and Orion telling D about the mainland, both discussing, arguing, and dreaming endless summer days away.

“One day, I’m going to transform into a flier and go far away from here” D said once.

“Oh yeah? And go where, there isn’t anywhere to go besides to mainland. Everything else is either too far or uninhabitable.” Orion replied.

“I’ve been watching every season, everyone who can fly goes in a different direction than all the ships that take everyone to the mainland. There’s more out there, Iacon isn’t the only place for us and I’m going to find a new place for us. When I do, I’ll bring you with me.”

“How? I’m not built to be a plane, I’ll likely transform into a truck and have to get a job doing transport.”

“Is that what you want to do?” D asked.

“I guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing.” A moment of silence had past, “I would like to work in the Hall of Records. There’s so much information to learn from there, yet only certain classes are allowed, unless you have a worker’s pass. Imagine what could be learned and shared. Hey, maybe I could find some old datapads with maps downloaded, that way you aren’t flying aimlessly across the sea.” Orion said, tapping his hand on D’s shoulder.

“But that brings us back to your original problem, how are you suppose to come with? I may be the stronger of the two of us but I can’t carry you the entire way.” D said, giving Orion a light shove.

“Ha, guess I’ll just have to follow you on a boat, once I make enough to buy one.”

With a blink Orion realized he walked all the way to the familiar cliff side, the ocean’s chill making the tremor of his plating even worse as it sunk down to his protoform. Wrapping his arms tightly around himself, he slowly made his way back to the hut, the fire long having gone out along with its small solace of warmth. He only sighed, not having the mental strength to try and relight the charred coal and ashy remains of what organic plants he could find, and sat down next to the recharge slab. Reaching over he grabbed a blank data pad he had managed to swipe the last season when he had returned to Iacon, he gripped the pen in his numb hands as he tried to write. Recording the memories from last night, the things he did that day and reminisced about what would be when D-16 returned. As he wrote his mind drifted again to the last time he saw his dear friend, the excitement in his eyes when he came to tell him that he finally got his cog, that he had gotten to touch the skies above them.

“It was amazing Pax! That feeling it was so-and the way everything looked and the sheer freedom of it all!” D-16 exclaimed, gasping still as though he hadn’t caught his breath from the flight back from Iacon and shaking Orion by his shoulders.

“I’m happy for you buddy, this is exciting. Imagine what you can do now with this ability, what you can prove to the council and everyone in Iacon.”

“I’m not gonna carry you across the ocean, Pax. I’m still learning how not to lose my balance when a wind current hits.”

Orion laughed, “No, I mean about us, all of us. How many Cybertronians called you crazy because you said you were gonna transform into a flier? You’re the starting point for a big change, I can feel it!”

“Yeah, right, like how you had a feeling you could transform without a cog?”

“We agreed to never mention that.” “Or how you had a feeling, the organic food we found was perfectly safe for us to eat, cause ‘What’s the worst that could happen’.”

“Ok ok, you’ve made your point.”

“Oh, or how you had such a strong feeling Elita-1 would agree to-”

“Alright, sometimes I have bad ideas.” Orion said, quickly covering D-16’s mouth, his face flushing blue.

D-16 chuckled as he took Orion’s hand from his face.

“So are you back for good or will they send you to Iacon.” Orion asked after a moment of peace.

“I was given a few days here to practice my flight. My new mentors say the changing currents from the ocean winds will help me gather my strength and endurance. After that I have to immediately go back to study the flight pattern for when winter comes in a month.”

“That’s...not very long.”

“Yeah, this may be the last time we see each other for a couple months.”

“Well, at least it’s not forever. Soon I’ll have my own cog and we can still travel to new places, just like we planned.”

“Guess we’ll just have to wait to then.”

“Just make sure you come say good-bye before you leave.”

Orion hadn’t noticed that he had dropped the pen as he rested his hand on the data pad, his helm and spark felt heavy as he remembered that good-bye. Oh, how he wished it had never happened, that he never told his friend that he’d miss him and promised to be waiting for him on the island when he came back. He wished he never hugged him tightly till other fliers to him to get moving. He wished he never ran after D even as he took to the skies till he reached that stupid cliff-side and watched him disappear into the horizon, only looking back briefly before turning away to steel himself. ‘I’m sorry D, I think I may have broken our promise.’ He thought to himself before letting his optics power down.

*****

Rodimus looked up as a loud roar echoed in the sky, similar to that of a number of jets and planes coming up from the South. With a strike of realization, he dropped the bow he was practicing with and ran as fast as he could to the old stone hut. He wasn’t sure what to expect, having never really spoken to the former miner before, but he could only imagine the worst if he was a stubborn as Orion Pax. Looking up once more, he could see a silvery-gray jet deviate from the rest of the fliers, making a sharp dive towards where he knew the hut was. Nearly tripping out of the bushes he came face to face with a large mech, D-16, who stared at him very confused and almost angry as he stepped away from the doorway holding up a blaster.

“Whoa whoa whoa, I’m a friend! Friendly! I knew Orion!” Rodimus shouted, throwing his servos up.

“Where is Orion Pax? What do you mean ‘knew’!?” D-16 asked, his own confused thoughts making his anger worse.

When Orion hadn’t responded to his initial comm, he had briefly wondered if he was still too far away or if maybe his friend had overslept from residual cold in the city. It was when he had tried the second, third, sixth, fifteenth time when the island was in sight and he still hadn’t even picked-up the signal of his transmitter did he begin to worry. He knew his friend was clumsy, but with how close he was with that medic nothing would have stayed broken for long. When he saw their usual hang-out spot and saw he wasn’t there he flew as fast as he could to his old home, praying that Orion forgot the big return or was maybe by some grace of Primus being responsible and trying to earn his own T-cog. But even as he landed carefully outside the quiet, now reenforced hovel and looked inside to find it empty did he now begin to think maybe his friend never came back at all, choosing to stay in the company of others. Turning quickly at the sound of rustling leaves and seeing an unfamiliar young looking mech only made his thoughts swirl worse.

Rodimus sighed and thought for a moment, trying to think of the best way to explain the situation to someone who had clearly already developed their own ideas. Eventually, he simply dropped his servos and walked towards a small dirt trail he hand made by walking it many times, turning to D-16.

“C’mon, I’ll show you.” He said before walking away.

D-16 hesitated for a moment, looking back into his house before putting away his weapon and following the mech. The walk wasn’t far, but secluded enough that it almost felt peaceful, if not somewhat remorseful. He didn’t have time to wonder why when they reached the end of the trail and he felt his spark drop at the sight of a grayed and still Orion Pax, lying on a slab of quartz and stone with bits of moss blanketing the ground around him.

“I found him in the hut. He refused to leave the island and froze to death writing down his days while he waited for you.”

“…..Why? Why didn’t he go back to the mainland!? WHY IN PRIMUS’S NAME DID HE STAY!?” D screamed, grabbing Rodimus in a crushing grip.

Rodimus was silent as he tried to hold back his own emotions, “It,” a quick breath, “It was my fault. He was determined to keep this promise he had made, even though we all told him that he wouldn’t survive here and I think he was almost convinced and then I told about the storms that had happened. He then refused to leave no matter what I did and all we could do was pray he would survive just enough that Ratchet could save him. I snuck onto the very first ship that was coming here so I could meet up with him as soon as possible but he was already gone.”

By the end of his explanation, tears had already fallen from his optics, having to remember finding his friend cold and motionless.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want him to die. I swear I was trying to help him.” He cried.

D felt his anger quickly melt away into shock as Rodimus spoke. Orion stayed? During the winter, fully aware of what would happen. All over that stupid promise they made. Almost instinctively he rested his servo on Rodimus’s shoulder in an awkward attempt to comfort him.

“Let’s-let’s go back, I want to read what he left and you can catch me up on the rest.” He said.

Rodimus nodded and walked back to the hut. D-16 lingered for a moment, walking over to cradle Orion’s face.

“I wish you had left, but you never turned your back on your word. That’s something I knew I could always count on when it came to you...and one of the things I always loved about you.” He leaned down and kissed his forehelm, “Til all are one. And don’t worry, I’ll watch out for your friend.��

He gently patted his face before stepping away from his past, forcing himself to face his new future.

[mostlylurkinbarelypostin]

Hot take: S3 Dustin sucked just as bad as S3 Mike and Lucas.

I’ve always found it kinda odd when people paint Dustin as some perfect friend in S3. The entire reason that Dustin was with Steve the whole season was because he was mad at all his friends for supposedly “ditching” him the night before at Weathertop. That’s why he goes to Steve instead of them after hearing the Russian transmission. He lies to Steve and says that all his friends ditched him, which, of course, made Steve feel bad for him. He then tells Steve “They’re gonna regret it though, big time, when they don’t get to share in my glory”.

Like come on. Tell me that boy wasn’t being SO petty. He was so confident that he was gonna be an “American hero” after hearing that Russian transmission and yet he wasn’t gonna share an ounce of that glory with his friends because it was late and they were probably tired of listening to him try and call Suzie for literal hours. That’s no exaggeration. When Mike and El leave the rest of the group on the hill, Dustin looks at his watch and says “curfew at 4?”. By the time Will, Max, and Lucas finally leave, it’s dark out and Will even says “it’s late”. They spent all afternoon up there.

So at that point, the group had surprised Dustin when he got home, helped him lug all the radio parts up the hill, built the radio, and then sat for hours while Dustin tried to contact Suzie… but apparently that wasn’t enough for him? Dustin still said that they ditched him, which like yes Mike and El did, but that was unfair to say about the others.

Robin actually says something interesting in the last episode that always stuck out to me. It’s when they’re driving to weathertop and she says “Suzie must be pretty special, huh? I mean if you built this thing and lugged it all the way to the middle of nowhere just to talk to her?” Interesting choice of words considering we were explicitly shown how Dustin didn’t do all that by himself, and how his friends helped him both carry the parts to the top of the hill and assemble the thing. This makes the implication something like “Your friends must be really special, huh? If they helped you lug this thing all the way to the middle of nowhere and build it, just so you could talk to your girlfriend?”

They also weren’t even confident that Suzie even existed at that point, but they helped him anyways. They did it because they love him. So with all that being said, kinda fucked up of him to say what he did to Steve and paint them as terrible friends.

It’s even worse when you look at Will specifically. I’ve heard some people say that Dustin would have totally played DND with Will if he was with The Party the whole season instead of Steve. However, that’s simply not true. Will was the last to leave Dustin on the hill and before he left he asked if they could maybe play DND (“or something fun”) tomorrow. It was a direct invitation to hangout again tomorrow but all Dustin gave him back was a self pitying little “Yeah, maybe.”

He doesn’t hangout with Will the next day.

So Will spent all day doing what Dustin wanted to do, but just like with Mike and Lucas, he couldn’t get the same in return. Even with an invitation to hangout again tomorrow, Dustin still clumped Will in with his other friends who he says ditched him, which makes it kind of hypocritical that Dustin doesn’t show up for Will the next day.

So no, Dustin wouldn’t have played DND with Will if he was around cause he was actively and knowingly choosing not to do that by going to the mall to see Steve. He could have been playing DND with Will if he wanted to. The offer was on the table. He didn’t take it though. He wanted to be petty instead.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is that Dustin was no better of a friend to Will in S3 than Lucas or Mike was. One could even argue that he was worse than them.

Obviously I have no real beef with these made-up children, but I just think some might have missed this part of the story cause Dustin is not the perfect angel character that some see him as 😅

[kittygamer2888]

Best boy

And... probably best destroyer boyyyy-- i mean, him rubberizing the environment around him would cause some destruction here and there, so I wouldn't put it past the giants if some also thought he was a destroyer, as well--

Also, the s a s h. The sash being the only thing that isn't white in his transformation does bring up the theory that it's possible Nika also had a purple sash around him like we see here. But who knows?

Someone even pointed out that the circles on the shield are the same symbol as Bonney's necklace and the cross that Kuma was praying to in his flashback.

It's possible that the cross with the sun symbol could be because Nika is the 'Sun God' he'd have a cross shaped as the sun in the middle. But... that brings up the question--

Now, I'm not familiar with too much religion stuff, but given how it's a cross with a sun in the middle... would it be possible that, in another life, Nika was crucified and reincarnated as a fruit?

I have this nagging feeling that Nika probably either sacrificed himself for the better of the world, or maybe Imu probably banished him inside of a fruit to keep him locked away forever. This theory has been bugging my head for a while.

With how there's many iterations of what god Nika was, something just tells me, that.. he probably wasn't exactly a 'god' to begin with.

With the way that he's described, it's possible he liberated people at the cost of the world getting destroyed. The guy isn't exactly 'clean' in this case, but maybe he was such a good guy to others that the slaves practically gave him the title of 'god', and, despite not liking the title of god too much, he just stuck with it. I just get the feeling that Nika was just a crazy powerful person that wanted to bring smiles for all, but his actions were probably a bit too destructive for the world to handle. Maybe.. the world being destroyed 1 time was an accident made by Nika while the second time it was because of Imu taking over and banishing Nika inside of a devil fruit, and months after that banishment, Joyboy probably stepped in and encountered the fruit, gaining the powers of Nika instead.

The theory's a bit over the top and I guess you could say that I'm assuming that Imu was probably the one who created the devil fruits mostly as a punishment to others, but that's literally the theory I was thinking of this entire time.

Tbh, the whole world being destroyed 2 times would make sense because One Piece is quite literally living in a post-apocalyptic world, and it could explain why;

1. The technology from 800 years ago was so advanced.

And 2. Why some islands are advanced while other islands seem to be either poor or built like villages from Minecraft.

Because you'd think that with the way how things are so modern in One Piece, there would at least be cities or more technology than what it shows us, but no. We are still in the age of pirates, and they use literal snails as telephones. But then again, you could argue that the world government is probably not paying the commoners more because they're too focused with the Celestial Dragons, and yea, I could honestly see that being the case, too.

It's kind of like the place I live, for example. There's a few cities, making it look like it has more money than one might think, but then you go to other places and some of the houses look poor, and there's no denying that. From what I heard, Puerto Rico is pretty poor, and it's true, because if it wasn't poor, you wouldn't be seeing people go to other cars and ask for money with a cup in hand, and with how the inflation rate is going, I genuinely think we're not getting paid enough given how this is a U.S territory in a way. They might call us 'poor' or 'trash' but that's because they're probably not sending us the right amount of money for this shit. And it's similar to One Piece in a way, you have commoners and you have the higher-ups. The higher-ups, the Celestial Dragons especially, treat the commoners like trash and maybe worse the moment they make someone their slave just for 'the fun of it'. So that's just my theory there about some stuff.

If anyone who lives in PR gets offended by the example, please let me know because I'm pretty much saying all of this from the perspective that I have on the world and on the island that I live in-- i don't want to spread misinformation, so if you have any knowledge on that, let me know in the comments/or reblogs.

Bfnfjfrfv, anyway, but yea, just wanted to talk about this because Elbaph has been crazy good so far, and the Nika lore-drop is crazy.

[en-scribed]

GATHERER OF GRAIN [fantasy short story]

Personified immortal Stars have lived secretly on Earth throughout history. This piece takes place in 14th century Al-Andalus, so Arabic star names are used as the main roots. Sunbulah (currently the Star Spica) has to save one of her patients while keeping both of their deadly secrets under wraps. The Stars' world was created by myself and @heirmyst. Previous post: [THE THREE BIRDS] [ORION'S FINEST] Next post: [CENTER OF THE WORLD] Word count: 8,746

Sunbulah practically ripped open the letter as soon as she got a moment free, green fire ready to spring from her fingerprints from the excitement.

Sunbulah, it read, Mortals are idiots.

Another sunrise, another civil war threatens to take this so-called great city. This time it has brought a plague with it, weeding out people left and right. You would think this would be an inconvenient time to threaten upheaval. Unfortunately, you are intelligent and possess a working mind, far more than can be said for any of them. 

I would ask how you are doing, but given how much that question trips you up, I will ask what you are doing instead. How, exactly, have you been lighting up the hospital this past moon? Let me guess, there is—

Her voracious reading stopped short in the middle of the sentence when she smelled burning. Again. 

She stood, toppling too many of her herbal supplies in her rush to calm the source of the fire. Sticking her hand into the flame, she found the drenched wooden core beneath and grasped it. Slowly, but surely, the flames tilted toward her, having found a like-built entity. They settled into her hand and left only a charred stub of wood behind. 

Sunbulah breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted. 

The door burst open with a kick. “Where is the sandalwood?” 

She jumped, startled, stepping swiftly in front of the now useless stub. “Head physician Masarra!” She tried to laugh, but its shakiness betrayed her. “How timely of you to bring up sandalwood… you see, the tree it comes from—”

“I have no time for your nonsense experiments, Sunbulah,” he cut in. He smoothed back his frazzled hair and lunged toward the table before she could stop him. “Give me the—!” He froze, staring at the offending table, his hands splayed on its surface. “What…?”

“It’s my… nonsense experiments,” she said, unable to keep the bitterness from the last words. “I promise it’s alright, we can do without the sandalwood! I’ll mix you something else for… whatever you’re dealing with.”

“Whatever I’m…?” He blinked, incredulous. “Woman, have you been around a single person these days?”

“No?” she said, getting impatient. Masarra knew full well that she only ever spoke with him, and that she kept correspondence solely with her lover all the way in Byzantium. “That was the deal, remember? Are you telling me what your patient needs, or should I take a guess and cook up a surprise for them?” 

His ire, instead of comically growing like she expected, dissipated instantly as he rubbed his temples, defeated. Sunbulah began to worry. It was never a good sign if even the head physician had given in to hopelessness.

“Better to show you instead,” he said finally, walking back to the door. “Come.”

She blinked, confused at the conversation apparently having left her expertise. “But I’m not supposed to leave the—”

“Sunbulah, I beg of you,” Masarra said wearily, clearly not in the mood for arguing. “Do not make this harder than it is.” 

Swallowing her boiling questions, she fell into step behind him.

The first thing to strike her when she took her first step outside into the hospital ward was the smell. Her apothecary cabin’s eclectic scents of wood, herbs, and the occasional fire gave way to rank, putrid air.

Then, she saw the patients on the beds. 

They writhed, crying out with pain as the physicians worked to soothe their viscous blisters. Some retched into ready buckets. Even from afar, Sunbulah saw that many had fingers blackened, their flesh rotting. Hadn’t Arc mentioned Byzantium’s ongoing brush with an inconceivable epidemic? How had it made its way to Granada?

“Since when?” Sunbulah could only ask.

“Wake up!” he snapped, a little too affronted considering he was the first to suggest her permanent lodging in the apothecary. “The stars have cursed us and God wants us to repent.”

Sunbulah made a face. As if the situation wasn’t unpleasant enough, he had to bring up astrology. “God, maybe, but what do Stars have to do with this?”

“Put your faithless sacrilege aside for once. There is a plague!”

“Well then, this is where we part ways!” she bit back. “I presume there’s no good studying any plants in a plague-stricken land.”

He gaped at her in open mouthed disbelief. “You’d take flight from our sick frontier now of all times? Are the plants your only concern?”

“Yes!” she said, throwing up her hands in frustration. “That’s why you keep me here! Where did the sudden high ground come from?”

Masarra, ignoring her, ran toward a bed. He sank to his knees next to it and began to clean the infected hand of the young girl laying there, muttering words Sunbulah couldn’t hear. 

Tentatively, she stepped closer, and everything she intended to ask Masarra died in her throat. The girl was sobbing quietly, her face caked in grime, but she couldn’t even lift a hand to wipe it off. She was so small, bursting with potential for growth like a fresh flower… and this disease had wilted all of that out of her. 

Without thinking, Sunbulah imbued her hand with subtle, cleansing light. 

She touched the girl’s face, willing the mess away just as she routinely brought life back to flower petals. Wide brown eyes opened fully to stare at Sunbulah, equal parts awed and confused.

Sunbulah made the effort to smile, remembering Masarra’s lectures on the importance of gentle bedside manner. She’d always scoffed, in disbelief that Masarra had a gentle bone in his body, but here, she had to put her absolute best foot forward.

“You are small, frail, and painfully mortal,” she said. “Understand this to be true.”

The girl blinked, surprised. Masarra turned on Sunbulah, eye twitching with rage. “How dare—?”

“Thank you?” The girl forced out the words, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Finally, someone’s honest.”

Sunbulah laughed. “I say this so you can appreciate just how incredible it is that you’ve survived the affliction to this point. Give yourself credit, friend, you’re firmly rooted, and you have tough enough bark that has let you weather the storm for this long.”

The corner of her mouth quirked slightly. “I’m a tree?”

Sunbulah reached once more to push back the girl’s dirty hair, before Masarra caught her arm. She braced herself for admonishment, but he was still on his knees, looking up at her with urgent, piercing eyes.

“Save her,” he whispered. “Your herb knowledge is unmatched. Pay your dues to this land. Take up physician duty and save my daughter.”

“Your—?” She looked between the two of them. Of course. Now that the girl’s strikingly sharp eyes and sloping nose weren’t completely obscured, there was no denying the relation.

His expression made it clear there was no room for refusal; she could not take flight from this if she wanted to. But if Masarra expected a promise, or invocations of God, or whatever his idea of acceptable responses involved, he wouldn’t get them. Not from her.

“I’ll give everything I can,” she said instead.

The child, whose name Sunbulah learned was Hadija, was washed up in the pool promptly. On Masarra’s orders, she and her trunk of essentials were moved into her own ward, which just happened to be Sunbulah’s own apothecary room. As hard as Sunbulah tried to fight this, Masarra was adamant that the hospital was overflowing already. 

Masarra shadowed her anxiously for the first several hours, and only left begrudgingly for work. Truthfully, this worried Sunbulah; on ordinary occasions, she could trust him to be fastidious with not catching the plague himself, but he was too close to this one. She savored the few minutes she’d get without his frantic input.

Hadija blinked in and out of consciousness, always starting her waking spells by hurling into a container. Sunbulah swiftly grew accustomed to handling it.

She stroked Hadija’s back through the last heaves and peered over the rim of the bucket. Predictably, a crude shade of a rejected diet accumulated over a good few days was inside. Except this time, it was marbled with ribbons of red. “Blood,” she noted. “Not good. Are you squeamish?” 

Hadija gave her that slight muscle movement that passed for a smile in her condition. “I can’t exactly afford to be.” 

“Point taken. Well, unbalanced as your humors are, I do need to reach inside you to fix this,” she said. Hadija, unfazed, only nodded, and Sunbulah took that as her cue. “Hold still.” 

Carefully, she propped Hadija up and lifted her sticky, sweat stained shirt from her back. Keeping one hand to hold her steady, Sunbulah reached for a fine blade from the table and cut into a spot of clean skin. Then, quick as light, she grabbed a cup and placed its rim on the incision. Little by little, blood rose into the cup. Sunbulah counted the seconds. Hadija’s heart began to quicken. Sunbulah released the cup.

“It’s done,” she said quietly, guiding Hadija back to the soft mattress. 

“Wait,” the girl said, with a hesitant crack in her voice. “Can you… get my trunk?”

Sunbulah arched an eyebrow. It was an odd request, but she complied, keeping her senses sharp in case whatever was inside would give Masarra more cause to yell at her. She creaked open the lid cautiously. Inside, placed gently on top of all the extra clothes and essentials, were hand-stitched dolls.

“The one in white,” Hadija said softly.

Relaxing, Sunbulah handed the doll to Hadija and laid her against the pillow. “Rest now.”

She barely had to say it. The girl had already blinked back into painful unconsciousness before Sunbulah had finished her sentence.

Sunbulah stepped away from the bed and crossed the room to sit at her desk. In her palm, she summoned a steady flame near the cup, scrutinizing the blood. Like studying a blighted plant, she told herself, knowing full well it wasn’t like that at all. There was precious little in plants that Sunbulah couldn’t fix with a wave of her hand and a redirection of light, short of complete cremation. 

Humans, with their numerous interlocking systems and frustrating lack of receptors to light, were more complicated. It was grossly inefficient to heal them only secondhand through plants and changes to living conditions. Why couldn’t she directly forcefeed some light to Hadija and—?

Something bright inside the cup of blood caught her eye. A reflection of her flame, Sunbulah told herself, snuffing it out so it didn’t disrupt her observation. 

She put the cup down near the table’s edge, lowering her head to its level. 

Unblinking, she stared the sample down, not daring to touch it for fear of driving off the answer she needed. Just as she was about to give up and reach for her supplies… the spot of light returned. Its white glow was stark against the blood, impossible to mistake for Sunbulah’s green Star fire.

She stifled a gasp as more little white flames emerged, floating in the liquid as if trying to burn the disease out of existence. This girl didn’t just have her mortal bodily system fighting the plague; purifying fire, a generations-old gift from the Stars, ran through her veins. 

Hadija was a witch.

At the least convenient time possible, Masarra burst in, yelling, “Have you done anything of use?”

Sunbulah swiftly hid the cup and shushed him, tilting her head in the direction of Hadija, curled up in bed. “Her sleeping is out of balance as is,” she whispered. “At least let her have the few scraps she can manage.”

He stood up straight, his arms crossed. “Watch your tone, Sunbulah,” he said, quieter but with no shortage of his usual displeasure. “She’s still my daughter.”

“Your daughter who has a week to live, remember?” 

“Don’t mock me, woman. If you want to live, you have no choice but to ensure her survival!”

Sunbulah bit her tongue. It was odd, how quickly he discarded all the rhetoric about the plague as God’s punishment once it affected his own. “Listen,” she said wearily, “you don’t have the slightest clue what she’s going through. If you did, you’d have taken care of it without asking for more than a few herbs from me. You’ve already tacitly admitted I’m right for the job, so would it kill your pride to hand the reins over to me?”

“My pride is not the matter at stake and you know it,” he said coolly, striding forward and pressing the crate shut. “You are a liability. Skilled in one area, granted, but a careless accident waiting to happen regardless. I don’t intend to put my child in harm’s way. From you, or the plague.”

She looked away, mortified, fighting to keep her face stable. It was less the man himself and more who he reminded her of that threatened to expose a nerve; hadn’t she heard almost that exact combination of words from the sun king Sol, numerous times? The last thing she wanted to do was prove him right. 

Composing herself, she gathered the courage to say the next words. “Then you’ll be happy to know I’ll be out of the hospital for a few days.”

“Out of the question!” he sputtered. “Your insubordination is reaching untold limits! The arrangement—”

“Is rendered moot now that her life is in our hands, no?” she said, not looking for an answer. “I’ve run out of the most crucial supplies, and I intend to leave no stone unturned.”

He stepped forward, close enough to remind her that he towered over her considerably in height. He, a mere human, posed no threat to her physically, but the way he glared down at her was enough to make her freeze in place; this was not the first time she’d served a taller man with the intense disapproving glint in his eyes, and in the moment, it did not matter that Masarra was nowhere close to Sol in terms of power. Still, she didn’t break her gaze, even as her knees began to tremble. 

Giving in, he sighed. “For your own good, you cannot leave. I’ll see what I can do about your supplies, but you need to stay put.”

Unbelievable. “You’ll trust me with her life, but not with a trip outside,” she said flatly. “You’re the smartest man in this hospital, and even so I wonder if you hear yourself sometimes.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come now, you always blow everything ridiculously out of proportion…”

Masarra, to his credit, left quietly as smoothly as he entered, but not without casting a few warning glares at Sunbulah. He would return without warning like he always had. He hadn’t forgotten he was technically her superior; it had simply been put aside when Sunbulah became the only one he could rely on. 

Hadija stirred in her sleep, and Sunbulah let herself breathe; at least the argument didn’t wake her up. 

She sank into her chair, frustrated, angry, and at a loss to whatever to do next; she’d never truly been in a position where safety or restraint were high priorities. Now, there was the balancing act of curing this child under her care without giving any indication that anything unusual marked either of them. She reached for Arc’s letter and read through the rest of it; civil wars, building fortification… he was out there doing things, while she wasn’t even given the liberty of leaving this one room.

This would be when she rummaged through her stock and experimented, but she was out of every herb that would be safe to expose in front of a dying child.

So, she did the next best thing; she grabbed her quill and started a new letter.

Arcturus, always the entirely figurative light of my life,

You know I say this with the utmost affection in my heart, but how in the skies do you expect me to believe your distaste for the mortals when you diligently guard their every edifice? If you despise them that much, I do not see you committing. 

Still, you do manage, clearly. If I can be disgustingly vulnerable for just a moment, Arc, I envy your ability to draw a sharp distinction between our worlds. How easy it is for you, to speed through time, fortifying Constantinople’s walls by day, fighting creatures of darkness by night, and always reporting well-gotten results to our king. Regimented, direct, without unnecessary flair… everything I adore about you; skies know our fellow Stars could learn a thing or two from that. 

No such neat demarcation has been possible for me. The world is a forest, richly populated and crawling with interlocking life forms, all placed ahead for exploration. Decay, predation, the stubborn persistence of life; name one thing here that is constrained to one world and not the other? Mortals act as if they are the only thinking beings here, as if their pain is unique, unmarked territory. I suppose in that way, they are not so different from us. I already hear your undoubtedly furious response to the contrary.

I lose the thread; what else is new? This is all to say, the plague you mention has made it to Granada. None of my wandering studies have prepared me, and although one moment longer in this limited apothecary might eat into my mind for good, I’m not sure about my capability for the task ahead.

You are no longer my only company here, but still. Send your advice and refreshingly direct criticism my way. With love…

Hadija stirred awake. Quickly, Sunbulah signed her name, folded the letter closed, and burned the seal on it before the girl’s heavy eyes regained their faculties. Thankfully, Hadija’s first glance was at the door, then at the closed crate, and only lastly at Sunbulah. 

“Was my father here?” she asked.

Sunbulah laughed bitterly. Now was as good a time as any to begin packing for the trip. “He cannot go more than an hour at a time without breaking down my door.”

She shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “Is it true? What he keeps saying?”

“About you not having long unless we work inhumanly hard? I’m afraid so.”

“Not that,” Hadija said, too flippantly for a girl speaking of her incoming death. “About… God, and punishment, and something about stars…”

Sunbulah scoffed. “You really shouldn’t take everything he says to heart. He doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does”

Clearly unconvinced, she held the doll in white close to her chest. “He knows… most things,” she argued feebly. “I just want to know what I did wrong. For this to happen.”

Putting the last of her traveling gear in her bag, Sunbulah turned her full attention to the patient. “Why would you believe you’ve done anything wrong?”

But Hadija curled deeper into the covers, preoccupying herself with the doll’s hair, and Sunbulah had no desire to disrupt that fleeting moment of comfort. So it was settled; there would be no confessions tonight. 

“Well, then.” Sunbulah cupped the girl’s sunken face in her hands. “Good night.”

Just as she cleansed the girl’s face of grime before, this time, she summoned warmth in her hands, easing away the last block keeping Hadija lethargically awake. If everything went as planned, this would last longer than the short, troubled bursts of sleep she’d been suffering from. Once Masarra inevitably caught wind of Sunbulah’s escape, he could easily send someone who wasn’t a ‘liability’ to take over.

“I’ll be back,” she promised the sleeping child, slinging her bag over her shoulder and walking out.

Sunbulah counted on the staff’s fatigue, and her own subtle manipulations of light to mask her exit. When at long last she slipped out of the hospital through the back door, she was greeted with a dead, starless night. Anxiously, she rolled the letter to Arc in her hands, and had to pay special attention to make sure she didn’t accidentally burn it; given the precarity of the plague, her chances of finding a messenger were not great, but she had to hold on to this singular thread of certainty that remained hers. Sad as it sounded, she’d put her apothecary post at stake, so he was all she could count on to last the week.

She scrambled into an unassuming corner and scanned the area for onlookers. When clear, she spread her wings and took to the skies. 

She repeated the three items she was out for in an oddly comforting rhythm under her breath. Oranges, hyacinths, sandalwood incense. Easy, basic, effective… and, by her calculations, the very narrow slice available to her under a strict deadline.

It was a short flight to the nearest fruit orchard. Very proud of securing her first find already, Sunbulah dived into the trees. 

She moved too fast, and couldn’t stop her descent in time before she crashed through a patchwork of branches, full wingspan, latent flames and all. Her cries were lost to the stray pieces she swallowed, and she fell face-first onto the moist orchard soil. 

Still, in the end, she was surrounded by a heap of fallen leaves and fresh oranges. She laughed, holding up the nearest large beauty. “I still win!”

She spoke too soon. Along with the still falling debris, a screeching bundle of feathers swooped down, piercing her find with its accursed claws and pulling hard. Determined not to lose this easily, Sunbulah held fast, fighting the eagle owl’s iron grip.

“Claws off, fiend! It’s mine!” She yanked her hand back forcefully enough to catapult the owl away. The orange was still in her hand. She cheered, but stopped short when she realized the owl hadn’t flown off. 

It had fallen to the ground a few feet away. And it wasn’t moving.

Sunbulah cast the fruit aside and inched carefully toward the owl. She reached a hand forward to inspect, but when it flinched from her touch, its wing shifted ever so slightly enough to reveal an underside of charred feathers. Had she burned the poor thing on the way down?

“Oh, skies above, no…” she said softly. She gathered up the whimpering owl in her arms, using one hand to hold the wing still while the other shone a light on it from behind. Bones were broken. “I’m… so sorry.” What else was there to say? 

She couldn’t fix bones as easily as stems, but she could do the next best thing. Grabbing a loose branch from the ground, she imbued it with green light, resuscitating its dead cells and growing it as she wished. Soon, it was the perfect splint to hold the wing; she grabbed some twine from her bag and tied it securely. 

She glanced back at the fallen oranges. "You shouldn't really be eating these, all things considered. Why...?" She trailed off. The remaining glow of the splint gave her just enough of a view of the bird's insides to know that the liver was not in its best condition. Without further question, she rolled the oranges toward the owl. “All yours.”

Round eyes stared up at her, confused.

“You're hardly the most unusual patient I've had. And I can still fly for more fruit,” she reassured him, flapping her wings. “A little hard work has never hurt anyone.”

Satisfied, the owl began to peck at the new meal. 

Sunbulah flitted between the patch of trees, scrutinizing the oranges under her green light and pocketing the ripest looking ones. Hadija couldn’t eat much under the plague, so her best bet for a healing diet was lots of citrus and water. She grew so focused on having her best pick, the blasts eluded her ears for far too long.

Shots rang out, closing in with each successive blast. Sunbulah turned, only to see a chain of violet sparks was heading right for the defenseless, feasting owl.

“No!” She darted into the line of fire, speeding up the growth of the seeds she sent below so young trucks sprang up as a barrier. She couldn’t see the owl anymore, but she heard confused hoots from behind her; he was safe. 

Ahead of her, a horse’s hooves pranced forth. Riding on top of the black steed was a tall woman, glowing with violet light, eyes hard as she searched for a target. “Where did it go?”

Sunbulah stood at attention and held a flame out to greet her fellow Star. “Good evening, Aliya!”

Aliya blinked, as if trying to parse an unfamiliar presence, but then broke out into a smile. “I thought I recognized the screams from somewhere!” She dismounted, and before Sunbulah had the chance to respond, she grabbed her by the shoulders, inspecting her for damage. “No one in their right mind would be out in the woods in the dead of night. Where is the Haunting who attacked you? Are you being held as bait? Dubhe and Al-Qai’d are in the air, should I tell them to blast—”

“There was no Haunting!” Sunbulah assured her quickly. Reaching behind the tree, she let the owl climb onto her arm. “See? We were both on a hunt, and I let it have my share.”

Aliya, perking up at the word ‘hunt’, said, “Skies above, small planet, so are we! What are you out for? Did you find a Haunting hideout in this orchard? Or a place for a secret watchtower, or—”

Sunbulah held the bulging bag toward her. “Oranges!” 

“Ah.” Aliya’s face fell. “And that means…?”

“Well, a diet of citrus can keep consumption clean and free of the spreading black plague. I also need hyacinth flowers and sandalwood, to ward off what’s infected my patient already, and keeping it simple is my best hope right now, because I’m actually not supposed to be out, you see. Speaking of the plague, have you been taking care of your horse’s intake lately?”

“That’s nice, dear,” Aliya said, patting Sunbulah’s shoulder, clearly having stopped listening once the conversation ceased to promise her anything. She returned to mount her horse, shooting a chain of blasts into the sky. “All clear, you two!” she yelled to the sky.

Sunbulah flinched as it burned through the topmost branches. “That’s a good portion of the yield gone.”

Aliya shrugged. “The mortals will survive.”

“Actually, they have less of a chance of that without the fruit. Because of the plague, they’ll have to make more use of the harvest than usual. Many physicians will be recommending—”

“Sunbulah,” she cut in, smiling in a way that was at odds with the tightness in her voice. “I get the picture.”

Do you? Sunbulah wanted to ask, but before she could open her mouth, two more large holes were burned into the canopy. The owl jumped, startled from the sudden entrance, and she had to hold him steady before he could hurt himself. The two Stars who were speeding downward could have simply used the hole Aliya had already made. Sunbulah decided against pointing that out. 

Al-Qa’id, small, quick, and sparking with excited lightning, scanned his surroundings with a wide grin. It dissolved into a frown when he saw nothing to fight. “Where’d it go?”

“It was never here,” Aliya said. “False alarm.”

“Slippery little things,” Dubhe said, balling her fists. “This is dangerous.”

“Did something happen?” Sunbulah asked. “I mean… why the hunt?”

Dubhe and Al-Qa’id, noticing her presence for the first time, looked at her incredulously. “What rock have you been living under where the king’s alerts don’t reach you?” Al-Qa’id asked. Dubhe nudged him pointedly to shut him up.

Sunbulah’s face flushed with embarrassment. “The hospital.” 

As if she needed the reminder that the king had walled her out of any tasks after she and Arc found different posts. Silence followed, only broken by the owl rubbing up against her. The three siblings seemed to carry their own silent conversation solely through knowing glances and vague gestures. Sunbulah instinctively reached for the rolled up letter in her bag. Why was there only one Star she was able to talk to without making a fool of herself?

“Tell you what,” Aliya piped up. “Since you’re out already, you might as well tag along. We’ll complete our mission and you can…” She paused. “Collect your fruits and branches?”

Dubhe made a face. “Collect what?”. 

She went on, “And you can hand your letter over to Alhambra witches when we’re done! They’ll deliver it for you.”

Sunbulah snapped at attention. “There’s witches at the palace?”

“Where else would they be?” Aliya shifted on her saddle, making room for Sunbulah. “Ride with me. You must be out of practice from all that time cooped up with the sick earthlings.” 

Aliya’s siblings laughed quietly at some shared joke and set off into the sky. Sunbulah's mind went a mile a minute trying to process this seemingly very simple choice. Aliya was offering her the solution to everything; a quick ride for her search, a way to Arc, and a possible path to restoring her image with the king? It was perfect.

Too perfect. 

Something about where the offer came from, with Aliya’s syrupy tone and her siblings’ incomprehensible communication, put her on guard, even more than she was with the mortals she had to hide from. 

Then, she remembered Hadija. Even if Sunbulah saved her life, without the Alhambra witches, she’d never know how to make sure it stayed safe. That tipped the scales to her decision. 

As soon as she climbed onto the horse, it took off out of the woods. 

Sunbulah positioned herself with her back against Aliya’s, growing and molding branches into a secure perch for the eagle owl. She hung it against the saddle and carefully let the bird climb off her arm. “Alright?” 

The owl chirped affirmatively, with such genuine satisfaction that Sunbulah couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wouldn’t you rather cage it?” Aliya asked, a small laugh in her voice.

“He’s injured. He doesn’t need a cage, just a place to rest where he won’t die.”

“Huh,” she said, and Sunbulah sat straight up. Aliya’s tone was thoughtful, but in that maddening manner where there was no way to know what the thoughts were. “You… get a lot of practice on birds at the hospital?” 

“Oh, no!” Sunbulah said, brightening. “Only humans! Sick, injured, mad, you name it!” 

Aliya turned her head ever so slightly back. “You don’t say…”

“I do! Though, I don’t actually spend that much time around the patients,” she admitted. “This is my first one. The head physician will have my head if I don’t save her. And you know it’s important because he let me see her at all! Usually he wants me to never even set foot out of the apothecary. I’m not even supposed to be here now!”

“I see,” she said. 

Sunbulah arched an eyebrow. “You do?”

She laughed. “Well, no. But… it’s intriguing, I suppose. You’re a Star, above this man in every sense of the word. Why are you answering to him?”

And so the horse dutifully carried them through the hills, and Sunbulah let her guard down in the face of Aliya’s questions. She had found Aliya attractive a long while back; who wouldn’t, with that winning smile and knowing glint in the deep blue eyes? That had only lasted until Aliya opened her mouth, and the million undertones to her every sweetly spoken word became too much for Sunbulah to keep up with. 

But this new, genuinely curious side to Aliya? Sunbulah reveled in how intently the other Star listened; being able to give information away for once instead of relentlessly hunting it down was a treat too rare to pass by.

She was in the middle of reciting the Compendium on Simple Medicaments from memory when the smell of fresh floral goodness stopped her. “Finally!” She clambered off of the horse, stretching her fingers in preparation to dig the hyacinths free. “Aliya, can you call the others down? All four of us can work faster, and I can go back with a full stock and make Masarra eat his words!”

“Oh, Sunbulah,” Aliya said with sudden, grave sadness, pointedly not signaling for the others. “You’re brilliant. That mind of yours runs a mile a minute and accumulates so much knowledge…” The compliments began to unsettle Sunbulah. The countless layers to Aliya’s speech returned. “But you still haven’t figured it out, have you?”

Sunbulah, already on the ground with her fingers digging through the soil, didn’t dare to meet Aliya’s eyes. “Figured out what?” she asked, uncharacteristically worried that she didn’t want the answer. 

“You’re not that man’s herbalist, or physician, or whatever else he’s told you,” she said evenly. “You… are his patient.”

Sunbulah breathed out a laugh. It was all some absurd build up to a joke. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Too forcefully, she released the hyacinth’s roots and yanked out the bulb. “I’m a Star. He’s never had any cause to think me sick, or injured, or—”

“Mad,” Aliya cut in, the single word carrying the force of a thick tome to the head. “Are you sure about that last one?”

She gripped the bulb tight in her fist. The deal, she wanted to protest, before remembering when he’d first found her. After she’d burned her own cabin.

She’d never assumed any intentions he hadn’t stated. Why would she?

“An easy mistake to make,” Aliya went on, undeterred. “You’ve always talked back too readily, been outright incapable of picking up the most basic conversational hints, and every thought you have leads back only to the century’s chosen obsession.” She took a breath. “And most damning of all for these humans? You take the form of a faithless woman unfit for polite society. Why do you think the physician was so adamant you never leave his sight, or interact with anyone outside of your ward? He was studying you, and he knew exactly what he was doing. You can’t aggressively explain your way out of this one, dear.”

Ward. Not even her beloved apothecary remained untouched. By now, the stalk and bulb were hot ashes in Sunbulah’s hand. “You show yourself as a woman too,” she countered weakly. “You ride a horse.”

Aliya stepped forward, wrapping her arm around Sunbulah’s shoulders. “I, unlike you, have the good sense to follow the code of conduct in my limited time around humans. It’s like the king says, hiding ourselves is not only about our powers. It’s about keeping ourselves safe.”

She stiffened, her face growing hot at the mention of Sol’s name, and lost the battle with her tears. “Don’t.”

“Sunbulah…”

“I can pick up hints.” She wrenched herself free. “None of my life ever concerned you before I foolishly gave you a weakness to pull at. Is this just one more humorous anecdote to laugh with your siblings about? Or do you plan to tell Sol? Like he needs yet another reason to lecture me, very loudly, about my conduct?”

A flash of hurt crossed Aliya’s face. Sunbulah no longer trusted it. “This is for your own good! Come to Alhambra with me and my siblings. Next time I see Arcturus, I can even—”

“Stop making yourself out to be the one saving me!” she shot back. “I didn’t need it back in the forest, I certainly don’t need it now.” 

She flew off, not caring what direction as long as it was away. Tears blurred the sky ahead of her, but for the first time, she saw everything with paralyzing clarity. Not even this strand of fulfillment she’d found at the hospital had meant anything.

Taking shelter at the top of the first oak she found, she sank into the embrace of the branches and shaped herself a small nook. The warm, familiar feel of bark and leaves surrounding her brought back enough of her senses that she could let herself think again.

Which, considering her circumstances, was a huge mistake. 

For once, she hated the evidence-based workings of her mind, because there truly was no way to delude herself into thinking Aliya’s ultimate conclusion was wrong. Not only was it supported by every newly tainted interaction she had with Masarra, but she was no more equipped to contest Aliya’s observations about society than Aliya would be to speak about prophetic medicine.

“Do you think I’m the problem?” she whispered idly into the branches, only daring to say it out loud because here, she wouldn’t have to hear an awkward, socially polished answer. Or any answer at all. 

Wingbeats sounded nearby. 

Sunbulah froze with alarm, but then she heard the screech. 

Giddy with relief, she parted the leaves and began to climb. She emerged above the tree, right in time for the eagle owl to land on her outstretched arm. “You’re healed!” She marveled at the completely intact wing he was showing off. The splint was still there, but it was glowing green; not even the faintest suggestion of the deeply charred feathers remained. “I healed you? How in the skies—”

The eagle owl burbled impatiently, pecking her. Only then did she see the hyacinth stalk he was holding in his beak.

Her smile fell. She pulled the splint’s knot open. “I’m… unbelievably flattered you thought to look for me when you should have been flying free. But I don’t believe I’ll be needing this any longer.”

The eagle owl solemnly placed the bulb on a nearby nook… only to peck her arm, more forcefully this time. 

Sunbulah forced her fire to not react disproportionately to the tiny attack. She settled back against the branches. “I was held at the hospital under false pretenses,” she told the bird, hating how pathetic the paper-thin cover sounded in hindsight. “Masarra thinks me mad. Sol wants me completely out of sight and mind, or I might blot the perfection of his Stardom. I’m a pitiable curiosity for Aliya and her siblings. You tell me, friend. What am I even here for?”

He hopped off her arm and retrieved the hyacinth. Then, he opened his beak, dropping the stalk.

“No!” Sunbulah scrambled after it, just barely catching it between two fingers. The bird made a repetitive, joyful noise from his throat. “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove! The only reason I was after this was for…”

Hadija, she remembered.

Even if Masarra trusting her with his daughter was as meaningless a gesture as all the easy herbalist labor he’d made Sunbulah perform… she’d disobeyed him so thoroughly. His approval was never why she was doing this, was it?

Sunbulah sat up, a lump in her throat at the thought of that little girl, fighting for her life against certain death. The girl who Sunbulah almost abandoned on a whim.

No more.

The eagle owl settled on her shoulder as she placed the stalk in her bag. “Two out of three rudimentary remedies isn’t bad, right?” she asked. “Who am I fooling, of course it’s bad! They’re rudimentary, that’s the point!” 

The bird bumped against her cheek. She stroked the feathers on his soft head. 

“But two is better than none, isn’t it? Thank you for everything…” She racked her brain for something to call him, when her hand found the unsent letter in her bag. She took it out and held it to her heart, deciding there really was only one name to give her prickly, refreshingly forthright new friend. “Little Arc.”

The sun peeked over the jagged horizon. Sunbulah squinted in the new light, daring the new day to throw whatever it had her way. She could take it.

The two of them left the perch of the treetop behind and took to the skies. 

By the time they returned, the sun had climbed higher, but the atmosphere above the hospital was gray, more dismal than ever. Sunbulah had no more time to waste. She launched Little Arc into the air and dimmed her own light; she would enter the same way she’d left. 

When she crept into the strung-out infirmary, she expected a lot more eyes out for her. In reality, that was Star-like wishful thinking. The preoccupied staff ran ragged, most stretching themselves between two or three patients by necessity; far more had come in during the night. 

Sunbulah’s light flickered, threatening to reveal her in an outpouring of care. She now saw a face, a life in every suffering body there. A life no less full than her own, and certainly deserving better than being reduced to a diseased body… or mind. She vowed to never let her own immortality blind her to the value of a full life. She was a healer, whether the Stars and Masarra thought so or not.

Give yourselves to me, she wanted to beg them all. Let me help.

She chided herself for losing focus so easily. One at a time. Setting her eyes on her beloved corner room, she weaved through the crowd, a knot twisting in her heart from every single one she had to brush past. 

At the end of the hall, a few men gathered outside Sunbulah’s room, Masarra at the head, barking orders as the other forced tools into the door to pry it open.

Whatever was happening, she needed to change direction. 

She backed into the nearest wall, finding the nearest window with a fumbling hand and slipping out of it. Outside, she didn’t have to search for the window to her room; the homegrown climbers lining it marked it clear as day. 

She sneaked inside, and was immediately met with a soft projectile launched at her face. The doll clumsily hit its target and dropped to the floor.

“Oh,” Hadija squeaked out, sitting upright on one end of the bed. “It’s you!” 

Sunbulah tossed her back the doll and glanced at the large trunk, which had somehow moved just conveniently enough to barricade the door shut. “How did that get there?”

Faintly, her eyes flickered with silver light. “I moved it,” she said too quickly. “Didn’t want to get it dirty.”

“And you won’t get up to open the door for your father, because…?”

“Well, you were gone, and he would move me if he knew! Couldn’t you have…” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Quickly, Sunbulah replaced the bucket. Then, she marched up to the blocked door. She kicked the trunk aside in a burst of strength, and flung the door open to dumbfounded men and a very stunned Masarra. “You are making the child’s rest exceptionally hard,” she said.

The rest of the men drew back, averting their gazes. Sunbulah could only imagine how she looked to them, hair scattered and eyes wild. 

Masarra stood firm. “I need to see her.” And you, she could almost hear him say.

“Right now?” Sunbulah asked. “She’s vomiting into a bucket, and would really rather you don’t. Either you can stand there and mutter about retribution, or I can make her a meal and treat her tumors. Which sounds better to you?” 

The man still towered above her, glaring forcefully, but made no move to push his way in. She’d won.

“Now,” she said, smiling sweetly, “Please leave my ward.” 

Emphasizing those last two words, she made sure to look Masarra in the eye. Tempting as it would have been to scream at him, or watch him reckon with how she was capable of figuring it out, Sunbulah simply shut the door in his face, refusing to entertain his surveillance. She had a job to do.

At her desk, she emptied out the contents of her bag. After applying the hyacinth between Hadija’s fingers, she finally found a ripe silence to fill as she prepared the citrus meal.

“Hadija,” she said, trying to tread carefully for sensitive information. “Have you ever felt… different, from other kids growing up?”

“What?” she asked, her energy already draining.

“I mean…” She trailed off. How was she meant to make this line of questioning sound even remotely sane? “Like… something boils your blood hotter than others, and you can do things never before seen, but no one else can understand, because you barely know yourself. As if something affects you, specifically, and the flesh prison you inhabit seems to have a mind of its own?”

Hadija turned her gaze to the table, and Sunbulah could have sworn she saw a spark of panicked hope in her eyes. Just as quickly though, she breathed out a laugh. “That’s just what it’s like to be a girl.”

That made Sunbulah stop cold and absently pinch into the orange. She was an immortal Star with no inborn concept of the idea, but for the longest time, she’d considered herself a woman in every way that mattered. She’d never stopped to unpack what that meant; wasn’t it a descriptive category, no different from how a plant could be described by its bearing of seeds or spores? What was she missing?

Hadija cleared her throat painfully. “So… did you have a point?”

Sunbulah shook off her thoughts and crossed the room halfway to the bed. “Your remedies will take time.” She kneeled down to be at eye level with Hadija. “Just… take care of yourself. And if there’s anything at play here, no matter how awkward or unbelievable, you can tell me. I’m open to more than you think.”

A long silence followed. Sunbulah held a few slices of orange out, but Hadija was looking everywhere except at her.

“I didn’t move the chest myself,” she said quietly. “Or… I did. Just not in the way you think.” 

Sunbulah nodded. “Go on.” 

Hadija sighed deeply and pointed her hyacinth laden hand forward. A blinking white glow surrounded the slices Sunbulah was holding out. Slowly but surely, after dropping three pieces first, she managed to levitate one toward herself. 

Sunbulah smiled triumphantly. “Well.”

“You can’t tell anyone!” Hadija insisted through a mouthful of orange. “Not even my father. I don’t want to end up like—”

“Like me.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. “Of course I want to be like you! You’re clever, and brilliant, and you don’t let anyone tell you what to do…”

“I’m also locked in a room I’m not allowed to leave, and generally considered too unstable to be around the decent God-fearing populace,” she added. “Work out for yourself why that is.”

Realization dawned on Hadija’s face. “But you don’t seem… that can’t be true! He must have made a mistake!” 

“Even if he did, I have my own secrets. Let’s keep this one between us too.” With one wave of her hand, a stray orange seed on the ground sprouted a sapling. 

For good measure, as if having smelled potential oranges from outside, Little Arc hovered outside the window, rapping at the glass with his beak. Sunbulah prepared for horror, for the evaporation of all the confidence she’d earned.

But Hadija stared at it with awe, hugging her doll close. “You can do anything.” She focused on another seed, knitting her eyebrows close, but only succeeded in burning it up and running out of breath. 

Sunbulah sprang forward to catch her before she fell off the bed. They sat, Sunbulah holding Hadija the same way the girl held the doll. Both sick, with secrets that couldn’t leave the room, finding inexplicable solace in seeing even a fraction of themselves reflected in a smaller, far more perishable girl. What would become of them in this world?

“I can’t do anything,” Sunbulah admitted solemnly. “I cannot heal you, or the other people out there. I couldn’t even find all I needed to start with you. I’m out of sandalwood.”

Hadija blinked at her, the silver glow returning to her eyes. “No, you aren’t. There’s some on the table right there.”

Sunbulah laughed bitterly. “Burned. Of no use unless I can somehow bring it back to—” Her eyes wandered to the window, to Little Arc, and she grinned as an idea of the insane variety hit her. If she healed the owl’s wing by accident, surely she could undo this damage too. “Wait here.”

She placed her hand on the ashy stub, let the green light seep out of her hand… and did not falter this time. Sol, Masarra, and Aliya’s disapproving judgment all disappeared when she looked back at Hadija; the trusting gaze of a vulnerable soul under her protection was all she needed.

In a burst of light, the original block of sandalwood was not the only thing that had been restored. Somehow, she’d rooted a small tree into her table. The scent wafted through the air, grounding her success into tangible reality.

She let out a disbelieving laugh, turning back to her patient. “Now. Let’s burn it properly this time.”

 Two months later, Sunbulah had treated far more than one victim of the plague, and had incidentally accumulated enough goodwill to transcend Masarra’s initial label. She and a much healthier Hadija walked into the royal fortress of Alhambra, and were met with a wonder previously conceived of only in wild imaginations—people exactly like them. 

Sunbulah knew the witches they found weren’t Stars in any sense, but they laughed with her like friends, listened to her like enraptured students, and explained the workings of their world like generous hosts. 

Best of all, they were all curious skeptics, asking incessant questions until they got exactly what they wanted. Her kind of people.

She took a stray leaf out of her hair, intending to show a group of women exactly how to feed light in a way that made it grow. "Like this!" Just then, she felt someone tap her shoulder. 

“I see you learned how to hold a conversation,” Aliya said. 

Sunbulah smiled, turning to look at her. “All I needed was people willing to listen. Strange, how hard that’s been for most I’ve met.” 

Aliya didn’t smile back. “We need to talk.” 

“Do we, now?” Sunbulah glanced at Hadija. The girl was sitting on nearby stairs, with a doll in one arm and Little Arc perched on the other. A few women sat around her, talking with her like they’d known each other their whole lives. She’s in good hands, Sunbulah decided, and nodded to her audience as she tossed the leaf. They descended on it, fighting for the chance to try out the spell. “Practice on your own!” 

As soon as the two of them had reached the greater hall, out of earshot from the witches, Aliya said, “It surprised the king a great deal, when we were forced to report to him the news that you, of all Stars, had a more successful few moons than us combined.”

Sunbulah blinked. She hadn’t even known there was competition, let alone one she was ahead in. “But you were going on hunts. What became of that?”

Aliya snorted. “A misunderstanding. There had never been any Haunting threats.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Arcturus mentioned a ‘black plague’ in his reports,” she went on. “You know how unreliable messages can get. It was hardly a leap from that wording.”

“I’d told you about the plague!” Sunbulah said incredulously. Right as it left her mouth, she realized. “You weren’t listening then, were you?”

Aliya drew in a sharp breath. “Now, don’t start lecturing me about that little mistake. Believe me, Arcturus hasn’t let me hear the end of it. I’m regretting everything that transpired already.” Before Sunbulah could decide whether or not that was an apology, Aliya shoved a paper into her hands. “For skies’ sake, tell him you’ve graciously forgiven me. It’s my only hope of staying, and my horse does not travel overseas.” 

Aliya ran off to join six of her siblings at the end of the hall, leaving Sunbulah with the bizarre position of having influence over decision making. 

She unrolled the letter, slowly, with a smile on her face and no flame in sight.

The desperation with which she’d always devoured Arc’s letters was absent. For once, she didn’t need to hear from him; she wanted to. 

Wasn’t that, in the end, the peace of mind that had evaded her for so long?

As she read, it occurred to her that she was moving, walking back to the witches. After that, she’d be healing at the hospital, and teaching Hadija. She’d gone from being an unknowing captive to having all these like-minded souls at her behest.

If Stars ever slept, this would have to be a dream. 

But since they didn’t, she had twice the time to learn more about this beautiful green planet than anyone had thought possible. 

[blue2jay]

The Protective Zeus Moment

🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷

Summary:Setting: During a family barbecue, Melissa tries to undermine you by claiming you’re too dependent on Leon.

🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷

“The Protective Zeus Moment”

The backyard was alive with the sound of laughter, the aroma of grilled food wafting through the warm summer air. Your grandparents’ spacious yard was the perfect setting for another family barbecue, complete with lawn games, a picnic table piled with side dishes, and your ever-watchful German Shepherd, Zeus, patrolling the perimeter like the diligent protector he was.

You were standing by the grill, chatting with Leon as he expertly flipped burgers, his relaxed confidence on full display. Zeus sat obediently by your side, his sharp eyes scanning the gathering, his ears perked up at every sound.

Melissa, dressed impeccably despite the casual setting, was lingering nearby, clearly waiting for the right moment to insert herself into the conversation.

The Undermining Begins

“So, Y/N,” Melissa began, her tone sweet but edged with condescension. “I’ve been meaning to ask—how do you handle being so… dependent on Leon? I mean, he seems to do everything for you.”

The words hung in the air, and you felt Leon stiffen slightly beside you. His hand paused mid-flip, and his sharp blue eyes darted to Melissa, but he stayed silent, letting you take the lead.

You tilted your head, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Dependent? I wouldn’t say that. We’re partners, Melissa. We work together as a team.”

Melissa waved a dismissive hand, her bracelet catching the sunlight. “Oh, of course, but I mean… he’s just so capable. I bet it’s hard not to lean on him all the time. It’s just… not everyone can handle that kind of dynamic.”

Before you could reply, Zeus rose to his feet. His large frame moved effortlessly between you and Melissa, his tail low but wagging slightly. His stance wasn’t aggressive, but it was firm—a silent, protective barrier.

Zeus Takes Action

Melissa took a small step back, startled by Zeus’s sudden movement. “Uh… what’s he doing?” she asked, her voice faltering slightly.

Leon smirked, handing you the tongs as he crouched beside Zeus, scratching him behind the ears. “He’s just doing his job,” Leon said casually. “Zeus is trained to protect the people he cares about. He knows when someone’s crossing a line.”

You couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips as you reached down to pat Zeus on the head. “Good boy, Zeus,” you said softly, feeling a wave of gratitude for your loyal companion.

Melissa forced a laugh, trying to regain her composure. “Well, I wasn’t crossing any lines. I was just… making an observation.”

Your Response

You straightened up, meeting Melissa’s gaze head-on. “And here’s my observation, Melissa: Leon and I have built a life where we rely on each other equally. That’s not dependence—it’s trust. Maybe that’s hard to understand if you’ve never experienced it.”

The words hit their mark, and Melissa’s expression faltered for a moment before she quickly masked it with another forced smile.

“Well,” she said, adjusting her bracelet, “I guess it’s nice to have that kind of support. Not everyone needs it, though.”

Leon, still crouched beside Zeus, glanced up with a sharp but calm expression. “Support isn’t a weakness, Melissa. It’s a choice. And I’m proud to be the kind of man Y/N can count on—just like she’s someone I can count on, too.”

Your Grandparents Chime In

Your grandmother, who had been listening from her spot at the picnic table, decided to weigh in. “Melissa, dear, there’s no shame in relying on someone you love. Your grandfather and I have been doing it for decades. That’s what makes a strong relationship.”

Your grandfather nodded, sipping his iced tea. “Exactly. And for the record, Y/N and Leon have got it figured out better than most. Including us back in the day.”

Melissa looked like she wanted to argue but thought better of it, settling for a tight-lipped smile instead.

Zeus Stays Vigilant

Zeus, still positioned between you and Melissa, let out a soft huff, his tail wagging slightly as if to signal his approval of the situation.

Leon chuckled, standing and resting a hand on Zeus’s head. “See? Even Zeus knows what’s up.”

Your grandmother laughed, shaking her head. “Smart dog. He’s got better instincts than most people.”

Melissa crossed her arms, clearly irritated but unwilling to push further. “Well, I suppose it’s nice to have a dog that… knows his place.”

“His place,” you said pointedly, “is wherever he wants to be—because he’s earned it.”

The Perfect Finish

As the barbecue continued, Melissa remained unusually quiet, retreating to a spot by David, who was unsuccessfully trying to avoid the conversation. Zeus stayed close to you and Leon, his presence a comforting reminder of the strong bond you shared—not just with each other, but with your protective and loyal companion.

Later, as you sat by the fire pit with Leon, Zeus lying at your feet, Leon leaned over to kiss your temple. “You handled that perfectly,” he murmured.

“Thanks,” you said with a grin. “But Zeus really stole the show.”

Leon laughed softly, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “He’s got good taste—just like me.”

And as the fire crackled and the stars began to dot the sky, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of peace. With Leon and Zeus by your side, nothing could shake the foundation you’d built together.

[fandomlovingfreak]

By The Cliffs (Ch 5/?)

Paul Lahote x Female Reader

Wattpad I AO3 I Twilight Masterlist

Rating: T+

Word Count: 1348

Summary: It was supposed to be a vacation.

A time to relax after Graduate School and unwind the pent-up tension I'd built up in the years of juggling school and work. Finally, I'd have the chance to breathe. Craving the serenity of mother nature's caress, I'd chosen Forks, a four-hour drive from the University, based on the stories I'd heard from Washington locals I'd known in school. With its endless trees and rainy weather, it seemed a perfect sleepy dream spot.

In retrospect, my belief that it was solely my decision to visit and not the Universe's mystic call pulling me there was mortal ignorance. But who besides a creature possessing the gift of predestination could have anticipated what awaited me by the cliffs?

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of Meyer's Characters. This work is not created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Cop1yright Act.

Notes: Paul's POV!! He's got some abandonment issues that will probably be more obvious in his POV's then in other characters (at least so far lol)

Warnings: This fic is about Imprinting. Warning if that's not your cup of tea. There is some swearing (bc it's my love language) and angst. Some abandonment issues but lowkey Paul doesn't even understand his feelings either so it's vague-ish.

Enjoy!

I know I'm not actually angry with her as I watch her retreat back into the house. Truthfully, I was mad at myself. That first impression was a shit show, making it abundantly clear that I had a lot of work ahead of myself if I wanted (y/n) to welcome the imprint.

It's not like she could know that I could hear her entire conversation with Sam and Emily before I walked into the house due to my heightened hearing, but hearing her call me Mr. Hothead had sent a spike of hurt through my body. Even if it was fair-- especially after watching someone spiral out of control like I had. 

My piss-poor explanation-- our conversation, if you could call it that-- made me all too aware that her anger was also fair. Just because I could admit all of this didn't mean her rejection didn't sting.

You couldn't pry this information from me, but I had pictured a fantasy where I'd meet this so-called soulmate by whatever chance. Nowhere in that sick romantic fantasy had I expected this outcome. I guess I'd expected whoever she was to feel that instant connection and know we were fated to be in each other's lives. Reality had kicked my ass enough times. You'd think I should have anticipated the opposite.

A sympathetic hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing slightly. I don't need to turn to know it's Sam's hand on my shoulder.

"Give her some space. There's no use in continuing to argue. It'll only drive her further away."

I want to knock his hand off and tell him to go fuck himself... but he's right. I wish I could say he doesn't understand this rejection, but I know out of everyone here, Sam understands everything I'm going through perfectly. Emily wasn't the type to yell, but she'd wanted nothing to do with him initially. I'd felt and heard that memory a thousand times in the past years as his thoughts had unintentionally been shared around the pack.

"Okay." The single word comes out in a huff under my breath. 

"Maybe you should run it off," Sam suggests, "One of us will talk to her,

talk her through it... better, and then you can come back and try again later."

The idea of Sam or any others explaining these... almost intimate details

with (y/n) reignites the stinging pain inside me. It should be me. It's our bond. 

Rationally, I knew we couldn't find common ground with the heightened emotion that raged between us. Still, I desperately wanted her to understand I wasn't forcing her to do or be anything because of the imprint. I needed to give Sam or someone else to explain the things I fumbled through before... letting her know that the imprint wasn't something that held her to me, but honestly, the opposite. It was me who needed her.

Releasing a breath, I hadn't realized I was holding in, I nod, "You're right. I'll go." It was probably good to get away from the current environment. The breather-- the distance-- away from the pack would help me find my composure.

The first step towards the tree line stung, like there was a rubber band between me and her, and every step away pulled the rubber unnaturally... too tight. I force myself to continue until I'm out of view, mentally blocking out the screaming in my head, begging me to run back to her.

Stashing my shorts under a fallen tree, I phase, breaking into a spring down the familiar path. Though I'm still fighting myself mentally, I try to enjoy the run and surrender to my wolf instincts. 

Run. Fast. Hard.

Her face pops into my head, crystal clear, like she's standing right before me, and my claws dig into the dirt, my lungs burning as I stop dead in my tracks. Panting hard, I let my mind wander across the details of her face. We'd spent only minutes in each other's company, yet I could recall the smallest details like I'd known her for decades. Like I had had the chance to study her intimately.

My feet move on their own, propelling myself through the forest toward home as the imprint bond offers me more possible scenes from the future. She's smiling, her hand reaching for mine, our fingers entwining lazily as she laughs. (y/n) looking at me from the passenger side of the car, singing to something I can't hear. She's reaching for me, our lips meeting as she initiates a kiss.

These possibilities, moments where she smiles at me and laughs with me, wants to kiss me, bring me hope. I can fix this.

Phasing back, I make my way into the house. Dad's in the kitchen, drying dishes.

"Paul?" He calls, wiping his hands on the kitchen towel before leaning on the counter to watch me, "What are you doing here?" 

"Showering," I smile, close-mouthed at him, trying to make my escape towards the bathroom.

"Showering? It's only," he looks down at his watch, "Four. Don't you have patrol tonight?" 

I pause, "I have a good reason."

Dad raises his brows in interest, "And that is?"

"I'm-- going to see a girl." It's not really a lie; it's not really the truth.

"Sam's letting you blow off patrol for a girl?" He doesn't look like he believes a word of it. Or at least, he doesn't entirely "Doesn't really sound like Sam."

I shrug, "Kinda has to. I… imprinted."

The gears turn in Dad's head momentarily as the words catch up with him, "Well, I'll be damned. Are you bringing her over soon? I'd like to meet my

future daughter-in-law." I know he's ragging, but it still makes me

anxious. Bringing (y/n) here would not happen for a while, especially if he

insisted on making that type of joke. After today's events, I'd walk on eggshells around her regarding this sort of humor.

"Not anytime soon. Gotta convince her to talk to me without it ending it an

argument."

"Ah--" Dad crosses his arms over his chest, looking delighted for whatever reason, "She's not local, is she?"

I scoff. As if that matters. An imprint is an imprint no matter their

background, "Nope. The wolf thing really-- freaked her out." The image of her running back into Emily's house screaming about wolves flashes through my memory. 

"Understandable. It's not every day you encounter shapeshifters." 

The understatement of the century.

"Listen, I'll talk about it later, okay?" I move to make my escape, "I want to drive her back to her car—"

"Why doesn't she have her car?" Dad interrupts.

"I'll explain later!" I turn, making my way down the hall before he can ask any questions.

Shutting the bathroom door behind me, I turn the small shower on before stripping down. Standing under the ice-cold spray immediately relieves some of the tension in my shoulders. I exhale, my body seeming to deflate further. Finally, my head starts to clear ever so slightly, and I can begin to rack my brain for the words I must say to (y/n). Without being pushy, I need to explain the imprint in a way that balances out the power. It was obvious by her words and reactions that she felt I was trapping her, leaving her with no choice but to be with me. I can see how alarming that would be; a stranger coming on to you strongly would freak me out, too.

Driving that point across was important. The other part I needed to make right was her perception of me. I was so much more than anger. And I could be so much for her if she only asked.

If I could get her to see beyond her concept of 'Paul', the asshole who screamed at the guys who saved her and then argued with her when he was supposed to explain imprinting, I would be golden.

Recovering my image wasn't impossible. I'd just have to be more patient with my imprint. If I could be patient for anyone, it would be (y/n).

Thanks for reading! I appreciate all of you who have read this fic, liked- reblogged- commented- sent an ask! You are AWESOME!

[croissantlover24]

Your New Home (Does Not Welcome You)

(Ruins of Rust AU AU where Dark Sun [Solstice] and Nexus found Copper)

Dark Sun adjusted his glasses as he went through the trash cans outside, Nexus doing the same nearby. While the lunar animatronic had been… less than ecstatic to dig through trash when asked to, he begrudgingly agreed. Solstice dug deeper into the plastic cage, looking for something out of the metal abyss that he could use. He had dropped a tracker into one of the bins a few days ago, but forgot which container it was in.

“What’s this?” he heard Nexus inquire with a scoff. It must not be anything important.

Dark Sun replaced his thin gloves and walked over, gandering at what prompted Nexus to scoff with a bored expression.

Inside of the bin, there was an animatronic made out of copper about the same height as the two in a sitting position. She had a wide hat painted to match the metal she was made out of. Half of her body was a desaturated green, the copper having oxidized over however long she was trapped in there. Her outfit was built into a dress with a circular skirt that was fit tightly into place by the metal it was made from. Her shoes were also copper. Solstice frowned.

“How long has this been in here?”

“I don’t know,” Nexus replied, “but we should throw it through a trash compactor. It’s already rusting and probably doesn’t even work—are you listening?”

Dark Sun had ignored the lunar animatronic to pull out all the bags of trash so he could get a better look at the copper construction.

“Do you think she’s still functioning?” Solstice asked despite knowing that it was likely improbable that she could still turn on.

Nexus sneered. “I doubt it.”

Dark Sun reached around the back of her faceplate to find a power switch, his expression blank as he stared at her permanent smile. He found one. He flicked her on almost mockingly, knowing she had to be out of power after so long.

Copper’s fans began to whir as her white pupils returned to their rightful place in her eyes. She looked up at the two animatronics in front of her, confusion evident on her face. One looked like a Sun model, but… different. He had glasses and a brown sweater with matching pants. The other looked like a Moon model. He was much thinner and taller, however, and his hat went down to his waist. His bulbous red eyes dug daggers into hers. She swiftly directed her attention elsewhere, uncomfortable with his scrutiny.

“Would you look at that?” the Sun model said flatly. “She works.”

“I’m sorry, ah, gentlemen?” she guessed, eyeing their attire. “Who are you?”

The Moon model rolled his eyes while the Sun model helped her stand and exit the trash can. “Solstice,” Dark Sun said. He gestured toward the lunar animatronic. “That’s Nexus.”

Nexus frowned at her. She laughed nervously, quietly thanking Solstice for the assistance. “Copper,” she replied, clearing her throat of dust. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She offered her hand to Solstice, who shook it. She would have done the same for Nexus, but it was clear he didn’t want to see her.

His next statement proved her hypothesis true.

“Look at her. She’s almost fully oxidized and covered in dust. We should just decommission her while we have the chance.”

Dark Sun glared at Nexus. “She’s working, isn’t she? Besides, she could be of assistance.” Copper didn’t like the sound of that, but didn’t press the matter. “Go do diagnostics on her and see how she’s working,” Solstice added nonchalantly, already wandering off to continue his own research.

Nexus groaned but didn’t argue. He glanced towards the copper contraption, looking over her with an unimpressed expression. He turned around and began walking. After a moment, Copper followed, assuming that was what she was supposed to do.

“Forgive me,” she inquired, “but where are we, exactly?”

“My lab,” Nexus responded, agitated. He opened the door and gestured for her to enter first. While he waited for his computer to turn on, he attached a selection of wires to the back of Copper’s head, ensuring each was on firmly.

He looked over her diagnostics, irritated that she had to stay.

Battery: 100%

That was odd. How was she at full battery if she had been turned off long enough for her to oxidize?

He took a look at how her internal systems were doing. They all seemed perfectly fine as well, despite being rusted and covered in dirt. “Hm,” he murmured under his breath, confused. That was highly unlikely for an animatronic of her stature.

The last line, however, replaced his frown with a cruel grin spread wide across his face.

She had dark star power. Was full of it. Every system inside of her was filled to maximum capacity with the energy. And she didn’t even know! The amount her body held was the same as if not more than the amount a wither storm contained.

“Wow,” he muttered under his breath.

“Is something wrong?” Copper asked with a hesitant smile.

“No,” Nexus replied. “No, this is perfect. You’ll be useful.”

“I… What do you mean…?” Copper queried, shifting uncomfortably.

Nexus quickly fixed his expression. He needed her to stay here so he could analyze how her body could contain so much of it without cracking. He could then apply the same technique to his body and become the god he claimed himself to be.

“Nothing. I meant your diagnostics look great. You can stay here.”

Copper looked relieved at that, falling for his faux welcoming grin.

“Give me a moment,” Nexus requested as he left the room. Copper didn’t follow him, giving him the space he requested.

“Solstice,” Nexus whispered, calling the solar animatronic, “she’s full of dark star power. She can help us defeat the others. She’s the perfect tool.”

Copper decided not to tell the lunar animatronic that she could hear what he was saying.

[only-lonely-stars]

Orange is the New Black (Chapter 4 - The Kids Are Alright)

[Chapter 3] // [Chapter 4 - you are here!] // [Chapter 5] – (FFN) (AO3)

Part of @ninjago-fic-fest!

Summary:

A rift opens in the sky above Ninjago City just as Cole continues his track record of falling from tall places. The place he wakes up in isn't the same as the one in which he fell... and who's the kid with a man bun who looks just like him?

Chapter summary:

Cole sees what all the fuss is about with Garmadon's constant attacks.

NOTE: The title is a reference to The Kids Are Alright (by Fall Out Boy)! Can you tell I went through a mild emo phase?

The whole world shook with the sound of heavy footfalls, engines, screaming, and maniacal laughter.

A familiar voice called out over a loudspeaker, cackling and overflowing with ego. 

“Say my name, Ninjago City!”

The city replied in the form of terrified screams. “GARMADON!”

“What’s my name?!”

“GARMADON!”

Cole looked out over the city. From the docks, he was able to see a full picture of what was happening. A small army of mechs, boats, and planes– and a couple of sharks?– were assaulting the city’s coastline. At the head of the charge, a mech which had a full three meters’ height on every other vehicle around it was marching across the sandbars. Based on how it walked, the driver had clearly been there before.

And, of course, the mech was black with purple detailing. Cole wasn’t unfamiliar enough to have trouble identifying Garmadon when he saw him.

He turned to the bridge, running to find Master Wu. “Master! The city is under attack!”

Wu was looking out the bridge window, toward the city skyline. “I know.”

“What do you guys do when this happens?”

Wu shrugged, tapping his staff against the floor. “My students will retrieve their mechs. Go have fun with them.”

“Have fun?” Cole wondered if he’d gotten a concussion when he fell. “Master, I think I hit my head harder than I thought. Did you actually say–”

“Yes, I did.” Wu pointed toward the warehouse with his staff. “Now go.”

It wasn’t worth it to try reasoning or arguing with Wu, so Cole did as he was told. He walked off the deck of the Bounty, down the gangplank and onto the docks, all the while with Wu watching him go.

The day had been so strange already. Could Wu tell how unsettled he felt? Even the thought of being watched left him with shivers running up his spine, and not the pleasant kind.

As soon as he was out of view, Cole ran for the warehouse at full tilt. 

He slipped in through the back door, where he was greeted by the sound of voices and doors slamming.

A moment’s investigation revealed the source of the sound was the red lockers he’d seen the day before. At the time, they hadn’t been worth any thought, but now he heard the Secret Ninja Force’s voices coming from inside them.

“Come on, let’s just get this over with quickly.” It sounded like Lloyd’s voice, but Cole just couldn’t be sure– everyone sounded just a little different from what he was used to.

“You got it, Green!” Nya’s voice was the gimme, the only woman on the team. A slamming sound accompanied her stepping out from one of the lockers, dressed in a gi with cyan and gray detailing. She looked over at Cole and immediately adopted a death glare. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh… looking for you, I guess?” Cole looked around. “What’s going on?”

Another door opened up, revealing Hence in all black– with his ever-present headphones. When he saw Cole, he gave him a jerky upward nod. “Hi, me.”

“Hi?” Cole watched as the others exited the lockers, then run to their mechs and start their engines. “Hence, what am I even seeing?”

Hence laughed, a confident sort of chuckle that Cole found he hadn’t expected. “Our school lockers have elevators that take us here so we can sneak out. Nya built them.” He all but sauntered toward a unicycle-type mech, then proceeded to scale it like a lizard. “Come on, you can ride with me. You got a mask?”

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“Great. You’d better put it on.” Hence looked back down at him, then frowned. “By the way, you’re not the Black Ninja here. I am.”

Cole gaped at him. “Excuse me? I’ve been the Black Ninja for years!”

“Not here you aren’t. We use our colors as code names, and black is taken. Pick another color.” Hence waved him on. “C’mon! I want to get my tunes going.”

Cole took one look around the warehouse, which was rapidly emptying out, and made his decision. A burst of Spinjitzu threw him up onto the body of the mech, and with one good pull-up he was able to climb inside the cockpit.

Hence gave him a strange look. “What was that?”

“What was what? Spinjitzu?”

“Spin-what?”

Cole rolled his eyes, finding a safe space to park himself so he wouldn’t fall out of the moving vehicle. “Never mind.” The cockpit looked like a DJ booth, so he decided to go behind Hence’s chair. It was almost the perfect space– that, and it gave a great view of everything Hence did, which currently included throwing records onto his twin turntables, pulling on a ninja mask, and throwing the mech into gear.

The engine roared. Cole held on to the driver’s seat as the mech leaned back suddenly, then forwards as it charged out of the warehouse.

They emerged onto the docks, but Hence seemed to have the route memorized. He scratched at his records and whooped with delight. “Ninja on the job! C’mon, get your mask on. Do you have a radio?”

“Uh, yeah. What frequency?” Did this world use frequencies?”

Hence told him, and a wave of relief flowed through Cole– it was the same unit, even, which seemed to be a rare thing between their two worlds.

Hence was impatient as Cole pulled on his ninja mask, fiddling with his booth’s many buttons and switches. “Come on, let’s go fight!”

Cole hustled to get it on. Hence didn’t waste a second; he steered them onto a major road and into the fray. The other five Secret Ninja were ahead of him, driving their mechs with all the reckless abandon of their teenage years. The constant rocking motion kept Cole from musing on that fact– even though he’d been just like them once, and he remembered it quite well– because he was struggling not to throw up.

“Hence! Can you take it– hrk– easy on the throttle?” He put one clenched fist to his mouth.

Hence looked back at him, then at the road again. “Yeah, sorry! Forgot you’re an old man.”

“Old man?! Who are you calling an old man?”

“You’re the older one of us, so you!” Hence laughed, and in the back of his mind, Cole noticed just how much he seeemed to be in his element. Was this what the alternate version of him liked? Why didn’t this joy show up in the rest of his life?

Still, Hence was compassionate enough to ease up on the rocking motion, and Cole felt a little better. They came upon the larger city streets, where the other ninja had come to a stop. Bursts of fire and ice fired into the air as Lloyd (or was it Green?) spoke over a loudspeaker.

“Lord Garmadon! Stand down!”

Garmadon’s familiar, jeering voice echoed in response from somewhere Cole couldn’t see. “Kiss my butt! Generals, get those pesky ninja!”

Instantly, the mechs scattered. As Hence pulled back, Cole got his first glimpse of their foe.

A twelve-foot-tall bipedal mech, shaped like a swordfish, firing blanks in the air from its fist. With those blanks, innocent fish were being ejected from compartments Cole couldn’t see, flying into the air with fins flailing. From his vantage point, their landings couldn’t be seen, and he hoped that it wasn’t as unpleasant for them as it looked.

In the cockpit, the other Garmadon roared with glee. He was the same as Cole remembered, with four arms and a penchant for black and purple. The cackling didn’t stop, even when the mech was suddenly struck by a projectile. 

Hence swerved around a building just as a poor, innocent fish came flying at them. “Time to rock ‘n’ roll,” he joked, throwing on a new disc so “The Weekend Whip” blared from his oversized speakers.

The fish was vibrating to the music, and Cole clapped his hands over his ears. He had to shout over the din.

“Hence! How are you not deaf? Turn that down!”

“No can do!” Hence called out. “Sorry!”

Through the noise, Cole heard Lloyd’s– no, Green’s– voice over his comm. “Red, fend off the fish!”

Kai’s voice responded immediately. “Got it.”

“Cyan, keep the canals clear!”

A loud splash preceded Nya’s reply, along with indeterminate yelling and threats Cole could barely make out over their connection. “Loud and clear, Green!”

“White. Start working on a wall between Garmadon and Ninjago City Tower.”

“I am a cool, calm, and collected teen.” A white pyramid-shaped mech drove past, shedding ice crystals and snow, and Cole got a split-second view of Zane’s electric blue eyes.

Lloyd kept calling out instructions, directing the Ninja, and Cole watched in growing confusion as the scene before him descended into organized chaos. The Secret Ninja were good at controlling the environment, acting before reacting most of the time, and their teamwork was excellent. This world’s Lloyd was good at giving orders and expected that his teammates would follow them.

When that day came, it would be a welcome change in Cole’s own world…

Nostalgia, homesickness and overwhelm warred within him, but the final outcome was nausea.

“Hence,” he shouted over the music, “let me out! I’m gonna be sick!”

“What? Now?!” Hence expertly directed one mech arm at an enemy car, blasting it with a pile of dirt. “We’re in the middle of battle!”

“You don’t want my vomit in your cockpit, the smell will never come out!”

Hence groaned, back to a shadow of his moody self. “Fine! Can you get out without me stopping in the middle of the road? Maybe with your spin-something?”

Cole pushed to the front of the cockpit. Hence opened a narrow door where he managed to force his way out, gaining purchase on the outer panels. “Don’t change anything!”

On the outside, everything moved faster… 

He swallowed bile and prepared to leap.

Three…

two…

one…

The world became a blur as he launched himself into the familiar, practiced motions of Spinjitzu, tinged with orange and gold. Cole heard himself shouting his battle cry. “Ninja-GO!”

He landed with continued motion, rolling to his feet amid enemy soldiers. He directed it into a roundhouse kick, expertly landing on one opponent’s abdomen, throwing him back and onto the ground.

The others yelled in surprise, or maybe rage, and Cole was beset with at least four of them– two were easily handled through Spinjitzu, a third with a single punch.

The fourth was blasted back by a soundwave, loud enough that Cole’s teeth rattled in his jaw. 

The comms crackled. “Hey, fake Black Ninja! Don’t get yourself killed!”

Cole scowled, massaging his face. “Don’t call me that, Hence.”

“Don’t call me that,” Hence parroted. “I’m Black, and we’ve got nothing else to call you.”

“Well, I don’t know!” He looked around, then at himself and at his uniform, with its stripe of bold color around the chest. “I guess you can call me Orange?”

“Fine with me– watch out!”

Cole wheeled, and a moment later, strafed out of the way of a large sword.

A sword with a crossguard made of… sashimi?

More importantly, it was held by a mech decorated with sushi, piloted by a cackling, gloating woman who looked very pleased with herself.

Secretly, Cole wished these teens were older and less impressionable, so he could say something rude and possibly vulgar. Instead of doing so out loud, he threw out the best taunt he could think of in a rush. “Your tactics are a little fishy!”

He was rewarded with another swing of the giant sword. One well-timed jump threw him onto the blade, and he held on for dear life as the mech driver swung it again. “Get off!”

Cole laughed, and as soon as she raised it, he dropped down into the driver’s compartment.

A minute’s struggle ensued, with Cole coming out the victor and the driver being thrown out of the compartment. He caught her with one of the mech’s hands and set her on the ground fairly gently. “Thanks for the ride, but I gotta roll!”

She shouted something and ran for the ladder on one leg, but he backed off and turned to run down the street, sashimi sword in hand.

“Nice going, Orange! Head for Ninjago City Tower,” Hence commented, pointing with his mech’s arm at a particularly tall and isolated skyscraper. “Garmadon’s trying to get to the top.” 

“Why? What does he get out of that?”

“He takes over Ninjago City.”

Cole stopped in his umami-flavored tracks.

He turned around, staring at Hence as he stopped his unicycle mech in front of Cole’s new two-legged ride.

“What?” Hence– no, Black– looked around. “What’s wrong?”

“He takes over the city?!” 

“Yeah?” Hence sounded like he thought Cole was looking at something. “What’s so strange about that?”

“Your city is controlled by whoever is on top of a single skyscraper?!”

“Yours isn’t?”

“No?!” Cole laughed, almost too flabbergasted to speak. “Wh– Of course not! That’s crazy. This whole place is nuts!”

Hence shrugged, driving past him and down the street. “Look, you can tell me all about how weird my world is after we handle Garmadon. Sound good?”

There was nothing to do but follow him. “Sure. Whatever. You’re all crazy.”

Hence laughed, and despite how Cole felt like he was going insane, it was a comforting sound, even encouraging. 

Maybe this version of him was happier than he’d been at the same age. Whether he was truly happy was another question… but there was hope.

There was still a battle to fight, even if it was one of the weirdest battles he’d fought in a very long time, and Cole was optimistic that the kids would be alright.

[doberbutts]

I think it's also wild the way people assume the stealth experience is roses and butterflies. I went stealth+DL about being gay for about 2 years at work in order to be able to work in a trade where people generally skew extremely homophobic/transphobic/misogynistic. I had been on T long enough to pass reliably so I thought, ok, cool, this is where my life as a Normal Guy kicks in, this is where I get to flex the old Male Privilege and work in an industry culture that is toxic to everyone but cishet men.

and I mean yeah, materially? I did okay in my profession, I was good at what I did. People were pretty chill to me because my only major flaw to them was being the New Kid, a problem that eased with time. I did have a female coworker who I learned dealt with some hazing that I didn't. I will say, in that particular situation, I had some privilege over her since my sexist coworkers never said anything to me the way they said shit to her.

but here's the thing - I still heard all of it. The gross misogynistic things they were saying were not meant to be about me, but they sure as hell were anyway.

but oh, boo hoo, I had to hear remarks, but you know, I didn't face any actual barriers or opposition right? yeah, okay, I guess not, and I'm not saying it would have been better to be out in this scenario, or to be a woman, but there's a reason I ended up leaving that field. walking into work and feeling like - no, knowing - you have to lie to all your coworkers and your boss every single day or else they'll hate you and treat you like shit is not a great feeling. you never have a truly good day when that is always at the back of your mind no matter what. you never develop genuine friendships or connections at work if they're all built on lies.

I ended up getting so burned out. it was a good job, a union job, and I was making a good income. I had a path upwards to make *great* income if I had stuck with it long-term. but I ended up leaving it for a non-union job at a younger company, with a more "hip" HR culture that seemed like maybe I would be in a better place emotionally. I took a pay cut to do that too. but a lot of my new coworkers had the same attitudes as my old ones - the first week I was there, one of the other employees went around the shop asking each person, "if Kylie Jenner was trans, as in, used to be a man, would you still fuck her?" and most people, including the fucking foreman, said "fuck no." I ended up saying something like "it makes no difference to me, sure, fine, she's not my type anyway" (having to not reveal I was trans and also not reveal that I prefer men), and right in that moment I realized this wouldn't be a place I could be open either, and it would feel the same as the old place.

so the burnout for that job came much quicker. I quit after only a couple of months. I did actually end up telling the HR manager why, given that this company actually had one, but she was the only person at the job who ever knew I was trans (since she saw it on my background check anyway).

so yeah like, being stealth at work? it's not a privilege. it's a defense mechanism, and it feels like shit. you feel every transphobic and misogynistic barb even if it's not meant for you. one could argue that I would have never even been able to get those jobs if I were out, and yeah, maybe, that's possible, but I had female coworkers at both places. And yeah, one could also argue that, in terms of pay, I was likely doing better than my female coworkers. And you might be right about that if I hadn't gotten burnt out and quit before having a chance to build up any kind of seniority. But instead I took pay cut after pay cut until I finally decided to put my life in full reverse and go back to college - where I had struggled severely due to mental illness, and still do - since trades were clearly not the place for me.

I'm just really sick of people who have never actually lived what it's like to have that "male privilege" of being a stealth trans man deciding it's just the great, most ideal way you can exist as a trans person. I'm sure there are some stealth trans men who were able to adapt to that environment that I wasn't. but at what fucking cost?

I have a friend who worked a military job training the bomb dogs. He is 100% stealth to the point where even people who know, who have seen him naked and even had sex with him, often forget that he's transgender and why he has that barrier of access to some things if he wants to remain stealth.

The type of shit that people would just. Say to him. And he was always having to balance saying something or keeping quiet so as not to draw too much attention to his status as transgender. He was provided room and board by his job and thus lived with 5-6 similarly aged cis men in the same house and the amount of dodging them and biting his tongue he had to do to just to survive... And the job wouldn't be chill if they found out, the talk he'd heard made it very clear that he was at all times operating with a noose around his neck ready to tighten at the very first infraction.

Anyway that's what passing privilege is. Is your life somewhat better because you pass well enough that no one questions you? I mean I guess technically. But what happens in the mean time to your mental health? Having to hide large aspects of yourself and constantly worrying and looking over your shoulder to make sure no one is looking too hard at your hips or your hands or your chest. My friend is post-op. He's "done", so to speak, outside of taking testosterone. And yet this was still something he had to keep in mind.

He ended up leaving that job due to some Stupid Workplace Bullshit unrelated to his gender status but he told me that honestly it was also a huge sigh of relief. The money he got was great but it was corroding his soul to stay. He ended up taking a pay cut and working elsewhere that he is still stealth but no longer feels like he's got an axe to his neck in every interaction.

[horizon-verizon]

Idk if this has been said before so forgive me in advance if I'm repeating a take, but I think it's pretty tone deaf to use deleted scenes of s1 to argue about the writing for s2.

For instance "Rhaenyra 'begged' Daemon to remain by her side". The scene from the original trailer was different to the one we saw in the actual episode. In the trailer, Rhaenyra gave the impression she was aware of the Greens as a threat, whereas in the actual episode her request came off more as seeking out an old love - given they had also slept together in the driftmark episode (You and I were always meant to burn together) That scene was more emotional than a politically strategic one.

Similarly to Daemon / his daughters. In the show, there's little affection from him. One might even make the argument he's almost indifferent to them. Adding how his marriage with Laena was.... it doesn't help making the picture any better.

So using a single picture from a deleted scene where daemon hugged his daughters to argue that he does in fact love them is pretty useless. Did it happen in the actual show? No. So we might as well not pretend it did.

The reason I'm saying this is because I see so many people using scene A (daemyra) as an argument again the "I can't trust you daemon" dialogue from s2 - nevermind daemon had given numerous of reason for rhaenyra to not trust him (the brothel alone is enough imo) and scene B (daemon [not] being absent father) to ague against Baela saying she hates him.

The writing is barely trying to keep up consistency with what they came up with for s1 and fans still try to argue about these deleted scenes being important for the narrative. I'm quite confident these scenes have been dismissed by the writers. They're not canon even for show-verse

Anon talks abt this post.

*7/14/24* I guess we could argue that Rhaenyra was more trying to address his tendency to leave her when things get too hard by accusing him of cold ambition (as an expression from the fear that he only wants her for power since he didn't bother to help her out at least 2x before, so this is her taking an opportunity to draw him into it and express that fear)...again, this doesn't make much sense when this show has made us believe that they had rather very peaceful and happy and fulfilled days on Dragonstone from S1 E8! This is a pre-marriage argument or at least an argument had either before Rhaenyra proposes to him--thus the argument is her confronting him before she ties herself to him--OR it's had in the first two years when he does something nasty or sus and she confronts him. It's not an argument that one has 6 years after marriage and raising 6 children and seemingly completely satisfied with one's partner WITHOUT HAVING ALREADY WRITTEN MULTIPLE SCENES SHOWING/ESTABLISHING SOMETHING LIKE A MISUNDERSTANDING THAT HOLDS A LOT OF TENSION BETWEEN THEM BEFORE THIS ARGUMENT! It should have been built into to make any modicum of sense. *END*

....................................................................................

I've never even watch the trailer you're speaking about, anon.

I have recorded the episode's conversation, subtitles and all, and cut out unnecessary stuff for the flow:

All Rights got to Max/HBOMax/HBO, this video is not mine!!!!

We have Rhaenyra say that the sea offers an escape and that fire is a prison, then she tells Daemon:

"I need you uncle. I cannot face the greens alone. Let us bind our blood just as Aegon the Conqueror did with his sisters. With you as my husband and prince consort, my claim would not be so easily challenged. The Velaryons are of the sea, but you and I are made of fire. We have always been meant to burn together."

RED for politics, or words that could be more argued as such

BLACK for "pure" love/desire, or words that could be more argued as such

PINK for a mish-mash, intertwined thing--most likely

..................................................................

Show!Rhaenyra point blank says that she can't face the greens alone and mentions her claim needing and will become more protected with him by her side in the actual episode. So while I am ignorant of whatever trailer you mean, I don't see how she isn't also trying to enlist him for herself as she is also trying to have him as a bonafide romantic partner/husband?

..................................................................

A)

Here's the other thing....Epi 10 Rhaenyra was a travesty. And no the brothel scene is not actually enough for the kind of distrust she should have for him.

I know for some Epi 10 was their favorite episode or at least really good. That Rhaenys seems wise bc the whole ethical standard here is no violence for the sake of human life and prevent war at all costs or seems to be. But:

most of the characters of the blacks we know, inclu. show!Rhaenys, tie and time again have shown a lack of care for humans life just for human life sake (beast beneath the boards...if Rhaenys cared all that much she would do all she could to not kill even peasants or "sacrifice" so many...therefore she is not even compassionately "wise" as some figure her show!self to be). I think of her alone bc this is the character people say has the "right idea" of things

Rhaenyra was actually considering giving up the throne when Viserys entrusted her and not the rapist, profligate, excess-loving, much more selfish Aegon with the prophecy...and for a very good reason when he could have doe otherwise when Aegon lived with him since birth and she was at Dragonstone for a bit...and no, do we actually think Aegon would take such a thing seriously NOW of all times without Viserys there and his desire to not responsibly rule?! Much too late.

this is not a world where Rhaenyra or her family would be totally safe from the greens IF one argues what many green stans argued abt Alicentr having good reason to attack and try to diminish Rhaenyra's power at court--fear of other agents using Rhaenyra's kids against Otto and the greens since they do have their own claims....Aegon has less/no claim bc no one swore oaths to him and the lords were much more concerned with how Rhaenyra's claim would benefit their own interests in maintaining the safety of their designated heirs -> thus the greens were much safer with Rhaneyra as Queen than her and her family were under Aegon as King, esp with how jealous he and his brothers were

Daemon was not preparing to go to any sort of war without her say so; he protested that they weren't going to at least try to defend the castle [she she was laboring] AND that she would even think to give it up, which I already described was not-so-smart bc of the above except the prophecy bit

Lucerys' death was supposed to be the actual straw that broke the camel's back to usher in the war. Hello, kinslaying is a huge taboo?!!!! And all of it is just swept under the rug for Jaehaerys' death as if that is the first wrong done and why the war happens! Envoyship!!! This is her son, her "sweet boy"! The heir to Driftmark and to the Velaryon seat. Yes she says that she would never want "Helaena of all people" to go through what she goes through...but that is an emotional matter and not the political one that she brings up as her main reason to distrust Daemon or to accuse him of intentionally wanting Jaehaerys' head in case he can't get Aemond's. She was never with him with the idea of his "neutral" morality.

Instead, in order for the showrunners to recreate a "moral" female character, they remove all the fire and passion she had for her family and her family only to make her an inactive pacifist who cries at a page from a "friend" giving her a page about a female conqueror but has abused her and endangered said children for at least 10 years in their own home. Even the most patient person can't be expected to take all that and not want to defy/punish/use all their strength to flout that entity that is absolutely out to get them and theirs. Male characters can be absolutely insane, sexually deviant/perverted, or just self concerned (Robb Stark, Tywin Lannister, Ned Stark, Oberyn Martell, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister). etc....but for female characters we draw the line at her looking towards her self interests?

B)

Apart from that, the character of Rhaenyra of season 2 episode 2 doesn't jive with her season 7-8 selves. It's not that I think she should totally accept child-murder as a necessity, or a trivial consequence of the game, or that show-wise she would. So much as I'm not sure how they expect me to believe that she'd think that:

Daemon would go buck wild and go against what he knew would be her wishes when he's already been shown to not want to rule from the very beginning and it's literally been six years of seemingly peaceable married life and two kids later

so much as she questions whether or not he intends to rule through her or use her up -- his actual political priorities concerning if he wants to rule…

she'd have so many detractors (as she seems to think) from her cause after being accused of having Jaehaerys murdered in this society when Aemond killed Lucerys -- esp without sufficient sort of contextual scene to show why she feels this way --

nevermind daemon had given numerous of reason for rhaenyra to not trust him (the brothel alone is enough imo)

Rhaenyra accepted Daemon's "darkness" as soon as she asked him to marry her, and especially when she absolutely knows him capable - willing of killing Laenor if she asked for that ion S1 E7. Because she is and always has been aware of how that darkness is not intended for those he holds dear. She knows (or at least is supposed to) who he is and what he's about, at least that is what they wrote and showed us. Daemon here is also fine with the prospect of just letting Laenor leave...bc he helps her do that.

AND, most importantly, she seemed fine and very aware of the effects of the rumors of her killing Laenor for her reputation bc it built that public trepidation she accepted:

R: This will cost Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys their only remaining child. And the realm will whisper that I was somehow responsible for it. D: Let them whisper. We will know the truth of it and out enemies won't. R: They will fear what else we might be capable of.

She still wanted to marry him of all people bc she trusted he would do a lot for her and do it as well as he can, throw himself into it. So when she says she wants Aemond Targaryen in full public ear to her council and she walks off still bedraggled from her flights she would know he heard that and would take some from of action and she implicitly understands that he will. So for her to distrust that he is not doing as he always said he was doing--do as she asks and not really intending go beyond that--then yes I am very confused why they are even together the way they wrote it.

If Rhaenyra is more politically conscious and is truly looking out more for her kids and for her own claims, she would have thought throughly about Daemon's role and possible disadvantages of him being with her, bring up why he left her, and throughly (not just in one night before sex) go over why he brought her down there in the first place instead of leave that question unanswered until its' pretty much too late and they have 2 sons on their own.

If she had any more substantial issues of where he stood in terms of politics even after she challenged him back in episodes 2 AND he left her be at the brothel when he could have just continued...why bring them up now and not before they marry?! Before she makes him a part of her household and be around the children he's supposed to fight the claims for?

If they show & say that Rhaenyra has such a strong mother's instinct to protect her kids form literally anyone...are they saying that she doesn't include Daemon in that?! Are they trying to say that she is so impractical as they also say she is a quick thinker (the aftermath of Vhagar claim, Aemond's eye, Rhaenyra v Alicent in trying to avoid-inflict punishment for their sons) or a good planner (Laenor-death plan)? Or are they saying she is so abused she cannot think towards her children's safety at the very least?

C)

This also presents us questions on how the hell she managed to actually rule Dragonstone and be as calm and happy as the show itself presented to us back in episode 8 if Daemon actually was as distrustful, scary, disruptive under her home and authority in all the 6 years they've been together.

So to lightly bring back your words but in a different way/meaning:

Did it [Daemon being untrustworthy bc of x, y, z while living with her and her sons] happen in the actual show? No. So we might as well not pretend it did.

If you are going to say that he really and constantly did shit that made her develop a resentful distrust of him throughout their marriage, then you need to show that, not tell it during an argument and expect people to believe that if they already are to projecting their thoughts about Daemon only being w/Rhaenyra for the power onto the scene or, as Sara Hess does, insert their nonreading compunctions about Daemon into the writing. Otherwise we're running on assumptions that themselves do not explain how this event connects to the s1 epi8 events of them very easily and casually presenting a united front, Daemon not necessarily being lead by the nose but truly agreeing and following her lead in many instances, etc. etc. that all convey a relationship of sincere trust b/t them?

And this is another reason why I simply do not care for episode 10 bc yes the choking scene is both an inconsistency as well as butchering a female character--both the female character of the show AND who Rhaenyra seemed to be from the book. They're not selling domestic abuse very well so much as using some of the audience's assumption of it happening to justify the inconsistency. DV/DA seems to be more a plot device meant to easily explain Daemyra to non-toxic ship loving people. And no DV and DA are just abusive, not "toxic" (which is why I constantly ask what people mean when they say something is toxic).

We might be riding a thin line here, but my issue is not that I think she distrusts Daemon's willingness to measure his desires/impulses against his priorities at the right time and place so much as it's not enough to use the brothel scene to explain away all the implied contradictions coming from them not bothering to write out scenes instead of the many time jumps.

[soupedepates]

As usual

"Stuff happened"

Is my way to sum up the day

Between medical confidentiality and the things I don't want to say

But today is a special day I suppose

Idalia told me she wanted to bring me somewhere nice

I said that staying at home was nice enough

She argued that with her new job

As she is making now way more than minimum wage

She could afford to bring me to a good place downtown and pay everything

So I asked her what were we celebrating

(Not her birthday nor mine

So what is it?)

She rolled her eyes and told me to get ready after my day at the surgery

And now I am trying to figure out how to tie that necktie

I look like an aged schoolboy my God

But I guess the trouser suit would look nice on me

if I wasn't built like a matchbox perhaps

Okay okay the tie won't do

And I can't wear anything else for my wardrobe is only constituted of comfy clothes you can't wear at a nice restaurant

Or scrubs

But you don't go on a date wearing scrubs

I can't show cleavage

You can't show what you don't have after all

I shouldn't look at my reflection for too long

It's giving me dark thoughts

Of course Idalia is beautiful in her best dress

"Wait a sec, honey", she says as she is putting my barrette with a fake rose in my hair

"You look absolutely perfect."

I don't know if she is trying to cheer me up or if she believes in what she's saying

I always loved persons better-looking than me

Fryderyk has always been so handsome

And Idalia

Well

She is unbelievably beautiful

And here I am

Homely at best and unsightly at worst

"And you're just

Just breath-taking"

"Aren't you a flirt," she giggles before giving me a peck on the lips. "Let's go, we're about to be late!"

And for a nice place

It is

"How expensive is this place?"

"My treat, Zuza, I'm paying everything, don't worry!"

I read the menu

No

It's a nice restaurant

So the prices are nice

Not stupendous

But clearly she has been saving up for this date

"I'm sorry

But what are we celebrating?"

She starts to laugh

Then she stares at me worried

"Oh you're not jokin', you have no clue."

Perfect moment for the waiter to bring the wine

I must admit

Seeing that man so confused regarding who is supposed to taste the wine

In front of my girlfriend (very feminine and taller) and I (more masculine-leaning yet thin and shorter

And older)

Is funny

He hesitates for a bit

I can't hold a nervous laugh

He awkwardly pours us both a drop to verify it isn't corked

And as the wine doesn't seem corked

He just leaves our table

"Have you forgotten? Like, for real?"

Oh no

I've hurt her

"I am so sorry"

"Oh, don't be, it's..."

She pauses to think for a bit

"It's our anniversary today. Well, it is tomorrow but tomorrow this place won't be open and your son is going to that clinic and you won't be in the right headspace, I think... I wanted to do something nice for our fifth anniversary."

I've hurt her by forgetting

My God I'm such an idiot

"And as you were the one who reminded me the fourth last times I thought it would be nice if I was the one making the move this time... For fuck's sake you really forgot?"

She immediately takes my hand

"Hey, you're making that face, is everything okay?"

"What face?"

"The face you do when you're about to cry", she whispers

"Everything is okay Idalia

I am

I am just sorry"

"It's alright it's alright, don't beat up on yourself. It's fine... You have a lot goin' on these days... weeks... months?"

"It's nothing"

"It's not, Zuza. It's really not. I'm seeing you withering and yes, I noticed you can't sleep at night, and that you've changed your medication for something stronger. It's not 'nothing'..."

I can't look at her in the eyes

So I just pour myself some wine

"I'm tired

That's all

Sorry for bumming you out when you made so much effort for me"

"It's okay", she smiles

It isn't

"I just want to take care of you."

"I know Idalia

I'm just tired"

As usual

I justify myself with

"Stuff happened"

[greatideas-badwriter]

Sacrificed To The Banished Prince Ch. 29

For story-telling's sake, this chapter will have two points of view, Sakura's being first.

Enjoyyyyyyyyyyy~~~~~~

Just one day after realizing she was pregnant, Sakura was bound and taken outside of whatever place they'd been keeping her since being captured. Effectively blind with the thick cloth still covering her eyes, the woman was frantic trying to ground herself. All she could do was try to keep pressure off of her stomach as she lay in a tied up heap on the floor of what felt like a carriage.

Being radically unstudied in matters concerning procreation, she was terrified that the smallest thing would harm the baby. Every bump of their traveling caused her to tense up.

The man who'd watched over her all this time was in the carriage with her, as was the person he called "Kakuzu". The latter spoke very little, so she couldn't get a good read on his personality. They traveled for a long time. Given her inability to see and general vertigo, Sakura could only guess that it was between three days and a week.

Then, she woke up in a freezing cold room. No one else was around. At least, that was what it felt like.

Cautiously, the shivering woman felt around the ground to ensure nothing was there that would harm her bare feet. She shakily got to her feet, relieved that her ankles and wrists were no longer bound. It was her intention to feel around the room to get a better idea of her surroundings, but she could only take one step before the sound of a chain dragging stopped her in her tracks. That was when she noticed the cold weight of a shackle around her ankle. Sure, she'd been treated like a prisoner for at least a month now, probably longer, but for some reason, it was at this moment that the pink-haired woman's composure finally cracked.

Pain shot down her throat as she sobbed, tugging fruitlessly at the shackle. 'I want to go home! I want Sasuke to come get me and tell me everything will be okay!' Her breathing became short and ragged. A tremendous pressure built in Sakura's chest as she tried and failed to properly inhale. She fell to her side, curling into a ball.

'Have I not suffered enough? When will I stop being punished for simply being born?' She knew her current state wasn't healthy for the baby, but that thought only made it more difficult to calm down.

At some point, she must've fainted because the next thing she knew, she was coming to. The captors, who were now present, obviously didn't realize. They continued hushedly arguing. "Why do you give a damn what happens to her? Boss said to dispose of her once the prince is dead so there's no witnesses, anyway."

The very blood in Sakura's body ran cold as ice. 'They plan to kill Sasuke? I can't let that happen!' Someone as self-aware as her was unable to deny how useless she'd be in a fight, but that didn't stop her from mentally preparing to do whatever it took to protect the sweet prince. To her, he was her precious family. He was someone to be cherished and loved, no matter the cost.

"If you absolutely must, visit a brothel. I won't allow you to defile a pregnant woman."

"We're going to kill her anyway, Kakuzu!"

"I said no. If you try to disobey me, I'll behead you, Hidan."

Suddenly, an intense wave of nausea washed over the princess, who gagged and began struggling to sit up. While heaving, there was a shuffling sound in the room. Then, something that felt like a bucket was in the woman's hands, and she was emptying the scarce contents of her stomach into it.

The man she now knew to be called "Hidan" cursed in disgust, "Fuck.... You're right. I should just go to town for the night."

By the time Sakura's stomach finally calmed, she was sweating, trembling with chills, and breathing heavily. She fell onto her side on the concrete floor. Hidan had left at some point, likely to visit a brothel like Kakuzu suggested. A tiny part of her wanted to thank the latter for fending the violent man off, but he was also responsible for her kidnapping, so she didn't bother. She'd only be shocked by the enchanted collar anyway.

Kakuzu, who had only directly spoken to her once or twice, gruffly said, "I'll leave the bucket. Use it if you feel sick again." Then, the woman was left alone in what was probably a glorified cell. Eventually, she mustered the strength to feel around her limited space again. There was what felt, and smelled, like straw amidst the floor. A faint winter breeze was also detectable, leading her to believe they weren't in a house like before, but perhaps a barn or stable. 'I feel like cattle.' While the air was much chillier than at the old place, the hay did help her stave off some of it once she blindly gathered all she could and made a bed of sorts.

A day passed. Sakura woke, unaware of what time of day it was since she hadn't been able to view her surroundings in over a month. Clearly, she'd caught a cold or something similar because she was freezing and sweating at the same time. Her head pounded with ache, she felt even weaker than before, and her muscles ached. Faintly, she could hear voices in the distance. She eavesdropped, always trying to gain intel on her captors that she might be able to use in the future to escape.

"-nothing about chaining up a woman! This isn't what my family agreed to!"

'This isn't another hideout, then? We're at someone's family's farm, by the sound of it.'

She continued to listen as Hidan barked back, "Oh, yeah? And what're you gonna do about it? You'll be charged for aiding the kidnappers of the Kingdom's only princess if you try to turn us in. They'll have you and your family's next generation executed."

"That woman is the missing princess?!" The male voice sounded entirely stunned. Obviously, he hadn't been aware of what those mercenaries were going to do on their property. He was verbally defeated, "Gods forgive me...."

Kakuzu spoke with more composure, "Go back inside to your family, Farmer. And mind your behavior. If we suspect you're merely considering contacting the capitol, we'll send you to hell before you can utter a word."

That night, Sakura was woken by someone sneaking into her vicinity. She scampered to her feet, lifting her hands defensively. Though they were mercenaries, the two men who'd been overseeing her confinement always made noise when approaching. Perhaps it was because they wanted to avoid unnecessary panic from the already distressed woman. So, it wasn't one of them coming to her.

"I'm here to help you. Stay quiet."

It was the farmer from earlier, whispering in a shaky voice. First, he tried to remove the blindfold, only for something to cause him to hiss and let it go. Likely, it had some sort of enchantment preventing its removal, just like the silencing collar. That, too, seemed to harm the farmer when he attempted to unbuckle it.

His hands shook as he breathed heavily and began trying to pick the lock of the shackle on her ankle, "Please don't blame me for letting them stay here. I have a wife and two children to protect."

Sakura was trembling with an unhealthy mixture of cold, fear, and adrenaline.

After a few moments, the tight metal released from the princess's ankle, and the farmer hissed, "I've alerted the nearest village that you're here. I'm sorry, but I can't do anything more to help." Cautiously, she allowed him to help her upright and guide her to the exit of what she believed to be a barn. While lifting her arm, he pointed it in a specific direction, "If you run South and just keep going, you might be able to meet the knights halfway."

Sakura squeezed the man's hand, unable to verbally thank him. She knew the chances of this escape plan succeeding were slim, but she had no other choice. Those mercenaries would kill Sasuke if and when he found them. If she could prevent them ever coming face to face, they'd never have a chance to lay a finger on him.

So, the ill, half-starving, and pregnant Sakura took off in a sprint in the direction the farmer had indicated. The ground was covered in snow. Her toes were freezing to the point that it hurt. She didn't let that stop her, though. No, Sakura ran and ran with little regard for her body's protests. One moment she was desperately trekking through a forest, her hands out in front of her to make sure she wouldn't run head-first into a tree. Then, in the next, the ground gave way and she fell. It could've been a large hill or even a cliff. All she knew was that the air was knocked out of her when she landed on her back. Snow fell on top of her as she struggled to inhale. Beneath the blindfold, her eyes were wide and unseeing.

Before she could manage it, footsteps could be heard approaching. 'Please. Please be Sasuke, or at least one of the knights coming to rescue me!'

Just as she was finally able to draw a breath, the person came close enough to address her. Her blood ran colder than the snow surrounding her body when Hidan's voice met her ears. He called out, likely to Kakuzu, "I found her!"

Then, the woman was pulled upright by her hair. She sucked in a breath, unable to make a peep lest the collar shock her again. Sakura could feel Hidan's breath on her face as he leaned in, likely inches away as he hissed, "You're more trouble than you're worth, Wench."

Sakura found herself back in the barn later that same night. Unfortunately, Kakuzu didn't stand up for her this time when Hidan chose to punish her for attempting to escape. So she couldn't run next time, he cut the bottoms of her feet just deep enough that she wouldn't bleed out from the wounds, but wouldn't be able to walk. He'd roughed her up a little, too, though he didn't hit quite as hard as before her pregnancy was realized. She considered herself lucky they were being careful not to harm the baby, though it might've been futile. If she wasn't rescued soon, it was likely being exposed to the elements and underfed would do both her and the unborn child in.

Almost like a taunt, the mercenaries didn't bother chaining her like before. It wasn't like she could handle the pain of walking more than a few steps.

So, with her hopes virtually smothered to death, the princess curled into a ball on her sad little bed of hay and tried to get some sleep. She'd have to begin brainstorming a new escape plan when she next woke.

Sasuke's POV~

Akuma led the small group of knights, plus the magic-user Kisame, through a dark and dead forest. Snow was falling in heavy, large flakes that whipped around the demon as he raced as quickly as possible. Last night, they discovered a hideout that'd been used to hold Sakura. It was drenched in her scent. When they discovered a room that was little more than a prisoner's cell, they found out why. There were drops of blood all over its stone floor. It was clear by their appearance that not all of them had appeared at the same time, either. That meant the princess was being harmed on multiple occasions. Akuma couldn't stop picturing the woman being tortured.

'I'll eat their hearts. They will not survive this, even if it means breaking my promise to obey the idiot prince. Send me to purgatory. Send me to hell. I do not care.'

The group had followed his lead up until dawn, where they came upon a small village. When Sasuke regained control of his body at sunrise, the party decided to rest. Without the demon's heightened sense of smell, it'd be nearly impossible to continue tracking the kidnappers' trail. The weather wasn't helping, either, because any foot or hoof prints were being buried in the snow.

Earlier, at sunset, the traveling group was preparing their horses to leave, when a few of the local law enforcement knights rushed up to them with claims that the princess's location had been offered by a small farmer who owned land seven hours North. This led to the present, with the group hurrying in desperate silence through the dark forest.

Personally, the demon's blood was pumping with adrenaline. This was the closest they'd come to finding Sakura in weeks. He wasn't about to allow the opportunity to pass.

Akuma glanced at where the sun would be rising within the hour. They'd been riding non-stop since receiving the tip. He wanted to find his sacrifice before dawn because he wanted to be the one to rescue her. He also selfishly wanted to unleash his bloodlust on those who dared steal her away.

'I can do more damage than the prince, and I won't hesitate like he will, either.'

All of a sudden, the faint scent he'd been following became stronger, but it veered off the trail. His neck snapped to the side, his horse obediently turning in that direction.

"What is it?" Kisame yelled above the sound of their horses' hoofs.

Akuma ignored him. He was too focused on the sweet scent of the woman he loved. Minutes passed before he noticed something in the distance and tugged on the steed's reins to slow to a stop. With panic and anger quickening his breaths, he dismounted Shadow and rushed over to a small clearing. Here, Sakura's scent was the strongest it'd been since they left that hideout.

"She was here. Maybe hours ago," he said when the others caught up.

The demon's heart sank as he followed a messy set of footprints to a small clearing at the bottom of a small ravine. It was obvious that someone, likely Sakura, had fallen from the ledge above. Judging by the half-filled footprints leading to and away from the area, she'd tried to escape and was recaptured.

"We need to hurry," one of the knights said. It was evident the entire traveling party realized the situation was becoming increasingly dire.

Akuma climbed back onto Shadow and returned to the trail so they could get back on track. 'Closer. Closer. Just a few more minutes,' he pleaded internally as the princess's scent gradually became easier to detect.

Just as a worn down old farm appeared on the horizon through the bare trees, the sun began to rise. Akuma snarled, jumping off of his steed and sprinting with inhuman speed toward the landmark.

The first thing he did upon arriving was kick the small house's door in, "Where is she!?" He bellowed. His voice was terrifying as his red eyes scanned the area.

His head became dizzy with the sheer amount of blood that filled the air. It was a massacre. With gritted teeth, he searched the corpses in the house to verify their identities before growling. A snarl of aggravation left his lungs, filling the air like the call of a predator in search of prey. She wasn't there. None of the blood was hers, either.

Before he could move a muscle to continue searching the farm for clues, the sound of fighting met his sensitive ears. He whipped around, hurrying outdoors to see the small group of knights had encountered a large man who, surprisingly, held his own despite being severely outnumbered.

When Akuma approached, bloodthirsty and eager, Kisame shouted, "We are capable. Search for the princess!"

Momentarily, the demon's rage faltered. He nodded, sharing a moment's glance with the blue-haired knight before hurrying in the direction of the barns. There were two, both small and showing signs of wear. In the first one, there was nothing but a handful of animals.

'Please.... Please be here,' he thought to himself while running toward the second one. It wasn't the time, he knew that, but he took a moment at the barn doors to pause and take a breath.

Then, he slid it open.

All the air in his lungs evaporated as he lay eyes on a bloodied and bruised Sakura. He unintentionally froze, staring in disbelief. She was clear on the opposite end of the building, but his enhanced senses made it easier to see than a human. Only when the demon realized she was severely shivering did he snap out of it.

With an unbearable tightness in his chest, he tore off his cloak and hurried to where she was curled into a ball on the ground. He lay it over her, only to hesitate on attempting to wake her when he noticed a short chain with a pair of loose shackles near her body. He knelt to study it. 'Why would they be here if they're not being used?'

He glanced at Sakura's ankles, only to do a double-take when he realized the reason. They'd sliced her feet to the point that they'd be lucky not to need stitched up to heal. Rage set him in motion again. He bent to try removing the leather-looking cloth from her eyes. A sharp pain zapped his fingers, making his teeth grit.

He cursed under his breath before shaking his head and grabbing the woman's shoulders, "Sakura! Sakura, wake up! Say something!"

She stirred, taking just a moment before cowering.

He made a shushing sound, brushing her dirty hair from her still-blindfolded face, "It's alright, Dove. I'm here. You're safe now."

Sakura's brow furrowed. Her lips moved to mouth his name, though she didn't verbally say it.

He had no time to dwell on her silence and nodded as though she could somehow see it, "That's right. We've been searching for-!" At the last moment, Akuma sensed a presence behind him and moved. He wasn't quick enough to entirely dodge the attack and ended up receiving a deep cut to his arm, but successfully parried the attackers' sword. His red eyes finally lay on the person responsible for the princess's sorry state. The man had silver hair, magenta eyes, and a wild look on his face that hinted he was just as eager to face Akuma as the demon was eager to drain him of his blood.

"Took you long enough, Prince! Your wife was sure you'd forgotten her!"

Akuma's sword met his. They battled for a few moments before jumping apart. He bit, venom coating each word, "Your death shall be slow. I'll have you beg."

Their swords clashed again.

And again.

And again.

The silver-haired man laughed, "Aren't you gonna ask me why we took her?"

"I'll have plenty of time to interrogate you once we're done here. You'll be tortured for as many days as you've held this woman hostage."

The fight lasted too long. Akuma had moments left before the prince would take over the body. With his guilt and frustration fueling his every move, the demon lunged forward. At the very last moment, the mercenary blocked his sword. Colorful curses filled the air in hisses as pain flooded Akuma's body. In his peripheral vision, he noticed the first rays of sunrise coming over the tree-lined horizon. He tried with all his might to hold on, limbs shaking with effort.

Then, it was Sasuke controlling himself. With their drastic differences in strength, the prince's grip slipped. The sword was torn away, clattering on the dirty ground nearby.

"What should I do with you now, Prince? That demon is stronger, and even he couldn't defeat me."

Sasuke narrowly dodged a slash from the man, the shoulder of his shirt being cut. His breath came in puffs as the duo shuffled around one another. 'I want to look at Sakura. Is she okay? She was so pale. How long has she been in this barn with no winter gear?' Pain distracted him as the enemy's sword nicked the same arm wound from earlier, making him growl and refocus. 'I can't think about that right now or I'll get myself killed.'

In the blink of an eye, the sword swung at the prince again. He dodged but was quickly taken to the ground when the silver-haired man tackled him. The blade went through his palm, effectively pinning his dominant arm and rendering it useless.

An unhinged glint met the man's gaze as he grinned victoriously, "Is this all the talent the royal family has to offer? I'm damn disappointed. I thought you'd at least put up more of a fight."

Sasuke barked, fending off his free hand with his own, "I'm not finished yet."

The attacker managed to land a strong hit to his jaw, which made him see stars. "Y'know, we were told we can do whatever we want with your wife once you're dead. I think I might have her keep me company for a while. She'll have to earn her fuckin' keep, though. If she can't satisfy me, I'll have to cut up more of her pretty pale skin, won't I?"

It was as if those taunts snapped something in Sasuke. He saw red. His hand curled around the blade currently penetrating it. He hissed, suddenly having the strength to overcome the cocky villain, "You won't lay a hand on her ever again."

With the fury of an extremely protective husband, Sasuke punched the man, sending him backward and off of him. Then, he was on top of the mercenary, plunging the sword into his chest over and over. A terrifying sound left him with each stab, blood splattering his clothes and body. The man quickly stopped moving.

"Princess!"

Kisame's voice broke Sasuke's bloodlust and focus and caused him to drop the sword. He felt almost drunk with energy as he hurried to his wife's side, ignoring the knights who'd arrived to witness their reunion, "Sakura!"

He fell to his knees at her side, taking in her appearance. It was unclear if she was fully conscious or not because he couldn't see her eyes, but when he touched the side of her face, she leaned into it. Tears welled up as Sasuke tried to breathe. She was skinnier than when he last saw her. She was so pale and cold. Bruises dusted her skin, as did blood, though the only thing that was bleeding that he could tell were her feet.

"She's ill. We should get her to the capitol as quickly as possible," Kisame interrupted his trance.

That was when Sasuke realized Sakura was sweating. Her chest heaved with short, quick breaths. He nodded, carefully bundling the woman up in his cloak before picking her up, "Let's go."

Kisame lifted both hands toward them, like how one would warm their palms near a fire, "I'll teleport you to the first prince's quarters."

Sasuke's grip on his wife tightened, "You're capable of such a feat?" He'd never heard of such a thing.

The knight smiled, though there was no joy or humor to it, "The cost is mighty, so it's reserved for emergencies."

"Wait-" Sasuke couldn't finish his statement before a blinding purple light erupted all around him. The cold winter air was replaced with the scent of incense and warmth.

It took a moment for the prince to realize they were already in the palace. When he did, he sucked in a jagged breath and stumbled toward the door. He was still injured and bleeding, not to mention exhausted, but he didn't dare consider anything other than getting help for Sakura. He managed to exit the room.

A pair of knights on patrol were walking further down the hall with their backs turned, so he called out, "Get the doctors!" They turned and obviously recognized the royal couple because one ran up to them while the other hurried off to get help.

Sasuke pulled away when the knight attempted to take the unconscious woman from his arms, "I have her. Just lead the way." Thankfully, the quiet soldier understood and obeyed without delay.

The Uchiha prince barely managed to glance away from his wife's face enough to watch where he was going. She still had leather covering her eyes and wrapped tightly around her neck. The court disenchanters would have to remove them.

"Brother! Did Kisame send you?" Itachi's familiar voice brought Sasuke the tiniest bit of relief. He nodded, following the knight into the hospital wing of the palace and carefully laying Sakura on the bed.

He felt his elder brother's arm come around his back when he then stumbled. They stepped back and out of the way when the other knight returned with a team of doctors so they could properly work. "What is her condition? Why is she blindfolded?" Itachi asked. He sounded genuinely concerned.

Sasuke felt a wave of nausea and had to be helped to a nearby chair, "I-I don't know."

A handful more doctors arrived, one of them coming over to tend to the prince.

Itachi seemed to understand his little brother was in a state of shock. He could tell now wasn't the time to talk, so he lay a comforting hand atop his head. He offered a small smile when Sasuke looked up at him with the fear and uncertainty poorly hidden in his eyes, "She's alive, Brother."

Sasuke fell asleep shortly after being treated, barely managing to make it back to the hospital wing after bathing and changing clothes. He was told Sakura had a severe cold, that she was extremely lucky to not have developed hypothermia.

When the last doctor was finishing up verifying her bandages weren't needing changing, he offered, "Pardon me if I'm speaking out of turn, but perhaps you should accompany the princess. It may help with her fever."

The prince spared the elderly man a glance. He didn't respond verbally. He didn't even move from his seat at her bedside until they were completely alone.

When they were, he allowed his composed mask to falter. Tears welled in his eyes as he watched the rise and fall of his wife's chest. The blindfold and collar had been removed, but she'd yet to wake. There were claw marks amidst her neck that were obviously caused by futile attempts to remove the enchanted article. The disenchanters hadn't been able to ascertain what their functions were or if they had any at all.

'It's been nearly six weeks,' Sasuke mused, wanting very much for his wife to wake and reassure him she was, indeed, alright. It felt like a year or more had passed since their last encounter.

Being without her was eye-opening in the worst possible way. Before she was taken, he was uncertain of what to do about their predicament. Now he was sure: He would not be able to live without her under any circumstances.

Even if it meant co-existing with The Curse, Sasuke was no longer willing to give up that which he held most precious in this world.