#like abandon the mission. forget about me. this is my ideal world after all

[goldensunset]

could just be me but i really do feel like team galactic are all best friend buddies who have fun together. also i watched this (their episode of pokémon generations) recently and it only deeply emotionally wounded me a little bit

[noxshade]

For the Record.

This is about my fanfiction, so I don't know why I feel weirdly anxious about this.

So I just posted chapter 32 of Things You Cannot Forget, and it had some issues. I sort of swerved into this super-fanservicey crossover territory that made no sense in the story, but satisfied the nerd in me.

I sort of knew going in that it would be a leap from the rest of the story, but the real problem is that it was done mostly to amuse me. Which is fine, it is just fanfiction, but I want to make a cohesive story that flows naturally. The fic itself is already a crossover of two different series, it doesn't need me hinging major plot points on references to further other works.

So surprise, surprise, it was not a terrific chapter. It's not a piece of writing I'm not proud of, but it's also I realized I had made some pretty big writing errors and just introduced shit that was of no consequence to fill time when I should be moving towards the conclusion of this story. After getting feedback from a few different sources, I decided to totally re-write the offending scenes. Not all of it is different (the intro and outro scenes are almost untouched), but the middle parts where I dump SMT and Lovecraft lore with little-to-no explanation was Not Great.

All in all, I do like the new chapter much better. It flows better, it focuses on the right things, and it feels more in tone with the rest of the fic. I do want to keep the old chapter up somewhere, and a random ass Tumblr post is as good a repository for this as any. So below the break is the original version of chapter 32, titled Sand Dune.

After a day to recover, the Phantom Thieves reconvened at Leblanc, with the intent of exploring the bottom of Mementos.  Makoto, ever the stickler for efficiency, pointed out that there were a few requests they could handle while they plumbed the depths.

“I’m surprised that there’re any requests at all,” Ryuji said, scrolling through the Phansite.  “Figure’d Maruki would have gotten all these desires sorted.”

“There are some things even he can’t fix,” Sumire said, her tone worried as she also scrolled through the page. “But these requests are really dire.”

“Some of it might actually precipitate from Maruki’s perfect world,” Akechi commented. “This mother who abandoned her child might be fulfilling her ideal life.  Or perhaps Maruki’s brainwashing just missed a detail or got a wire crossed in her mind.”

“Do you send calling cards for these little missions?” Rin asked, standing behind the counter and staring up at the jars of coffee beans.

“No,” Haru explained. “Futaba-chan usually just messages the target in the real world.  We found that method simpler and just as effective, provided they don’t have a Palace.”

“Then Chika was right,” Rin said, turning back to the group.

“Your friend?” Yusuke asked.

Rin nodded. “She said that a bunch of people claimed they got a calling card after posting on the internet.�� She didn’t believe any of them.”

“Wait…” Ryuji said, leaning back in the booth, staring at the ceiling. “Does this Chika go to Kosei?”  

“Yes,” Rin answered. “She’s a super-Phangirl.  Runs the school newspaper.  Or maybe she did.  I haven’t been able to check in Maruki's world.”

“Is she datin’ a Shujin boy with short black hair?” Ryuji asked.

Rin thought for a moment. “Yes.  They met in Hawaii.”

“Huh.  And here I thought Mishima was just lyin’,” Ryuji said, then explained: “He said he had a girlfriend he was spendin’ Christmas with when I texted him, and I called him out, but he said she was a Kosei student, and a Phangirl.  I just kinda figured he made’er up.  I was going to ask Yusuke about it, but then we got all caught up in this bullshit.”

“Mishima with a girlfriend…” Ann mused. “I guess the world is just full of surprises.”

“I think we should get going, if you’re all quite done gossiping,” Akechi said, a familiar venom in his voice.  Akira reluctantly agreed, and they gathered their things and took the train to Shibuya, then passed into the Metaverse and down into Mementos proper.  They all gave Rin and Sumire a run-down of Mementos, and answered the odd question that followed.  Akira gave a nod to Lavenza, who stood by the door to the Velvet Room, still invisible to the others.  They noted the gray, metallic strands that snaked across the ceiling, so similar to what they had seen in Maruki’s lab.

“That has to be the good doctor’s work,” Yusuke said, gesturing up as they all sorted out items and equipment.

“It’s certainly new,” Haru commented. “Oracle, can you scan it?”

Futaba looked all across the pattern of material, her goggles humming slightly.  “Nothing special.  Whatever he’s doing with this, we’re so far away that my Persona can’t pick up anything.  If we follow them deeper, we might get some clues.”

“Well, they will probably lead back to the Prison, if what he told Witch is true,” Ann said.

They finished their preparations, and Morgana was eager to show the two newcomers his amazing transformation, but when he bounced to the ground in van form, neither seemed that surprised or enthused.

“Really?  Nothing?” Morgana whined at Sumire’s quiet ‘Oh,’ and Rin’s stone-faced reaction.

“With everything that’s happened, and everything we’ve seen, I guess a talking cat turning into a talking automobile just isn’t surprising,” Sumire admitted.  Morgana moaned his disappointment.

Rin was quiet, her eyes squinting behind her mask.  “Does the air conditioning smell like cat breath?” she asked, finally.

“Wha- No!” Morgana protested.

“A little bit, if we drive for too long,” Makoto added.

“Are the seat cat fur or cat tongue texture?” Rin continued.

The headlights that served as Van-gana’s eyes bulged, and the purring engine seemed to sputter before he responded.  “Gross!  They’re fine leather, I’ll have you know.”

“It’s not fine at all,” Yusuke commented. “It's passable, at best.”

Rin didn’t seem to notice, and continued her barrage of questions: “Do you have to eat or fuel up?  How does your exhaust work?”

“It just works, okay?!” Morgana shouted back, becoming increasingly flustered.

“Do you get hairballs in your engine?” Sumire asked, joining the inquiry.

“Just get in!” Morgana huffed, rearing up back, then back down on his front tires, as if putting a foot down. “Jeez.”

They all piled in, only to find it cramped with their two new members.  Eventually, Makoto opted to step out of the van, and ride on her Persona, which was newly awakened into the vehicle Agnes.  Akira took Morgana’s wheel, and the two of them descended into the depths.  

After a few minutes of driving and some light banter made awkward by the cramped interior, the Thieves arrived at the entrance to what used to be the Prison of Regression.  The gray metallic threads had been woven into the fabric of Mementos, and they had grown thicker as they descended, eventually looking more like roots of a plant.  They passed the enormous black stone slabs that marked the beginning of the Prison and disembarked from their modes of transport.  The area beyond the entrance was no longer an overwhelming red, but a pale blue color; not at all dissimilar to Maruki’s laboratory.  They found the panopticon-like temple not far from the entrance.  Instead of the veins of red desire and a enormous red chalice, the space was now filled with cables and wires; with massive lenses and blue floodlights.

“I think we can safely assume Doctor Maruki is behind this change,” Makoto said as she gazed about at the lines of neon cyan and reflective metal that criss-crossed the space.  Akira looked up the thread of gold woven into sheets of wires and fiber-optics that held camera lenses the size of large trucks above them, each shifting its internal mechanism in a way that made Akira feel distinctly… observed.

They scaled the root-tentacle-cables down the space, past the now-empty cells and down to the floor of the space.  A massive pillar of neon cables rose from the floor, then split apart into separate, glowing streams of energy, bounced between hexagonal plates and leading away from the entrance, to a new hallway at the back.

“This is almost certainly the ‘lynchpin’ Lady Elizabeth mentioned,” Morgana said as they approached.

Akira looked at the structure that had been created… or perhaps grown?  It struck him that this was a particularly powerful location: the nexus of thought in Tokyo.  From what Elizabeth had said, they were not the first to fight a mysteriously powerful cognitive being.  This space had either been created by the Holy Grail or had created the Grail in turn, and now Maruki had been drawn to it by his own Persona, if Rin had interpreted his words correctly.  What other beings might it draw from the Sea of Souls or beyond?

“So all the threads he wove through Mementos are anchored here?” Yusuke asked, glancing about.  Akira was also shocked by the transformation the space had endured.  He recognized most of it, including the plaques on the ground with the Latin names of the deadly sins on them.  They had fought the Holy Grail here. They had defeated Yaldabaoth here, in a way.

“Not quite, Inari,” Futaba corrected, scanning the mass of cables and metallic mesh. “It’s the other way around.  They don’t converge here; this is where they begin: the stuff we’ve seen all around Mementos starts here and spreads like roots.”

“This must be what he made on Christmas,” Rin said, staring up at the space, her eyes lazily following the glowing lines of the cables.

Ryuji wandered closer and gave the cables a smack with his bat, to no effect. “Doesn’t seem like we can cut it off here,” he said.

“It all looks really similar to his Persona,” Ann said. “If he created this, it makes sense.”

“Meaning we probably have to deal with Maruki to get rid of it and separate the two dimensions,” Akechi added.

“It seems that he may have expanded the space since we were last here,” Haru said, having walked to the side.  She gestured to the hole in the wall where the lines of energy were directed out, there were a series of escalators out of the space now. They all circled the central structure with her and approached the dark moving stairs.  “I doubt the escalators were something the Holy Grail decided to include.”

“You never know,” Rin said, as they stepped on the moving stairs and traveled beyond the panopticon.  The area behind that looked like another floor of Mementos, but… infused with Maruki’s Palace.  The subtle white glow, the posters talking about happiness, the blue-veined metal roots burrowed into the ceiling.  The Metanav buzzed in Akira’s pocket and notified him of the new area they had uncovered as they did, and a massive new section appeared on the map, one that had them ascending, but on a new path, parallel to the original descent.

“And having reached the bottom of the Inferno, we must climb our way to Purgatorio,” Akechi commented.  From the looks other Thieves gave, it seemed only Makoto, Yusuke and Akira had understood his reference to Dante’s work, but Akira’s rebuttal was cut off as a toy car honked its way up the escalator, trailing balloons.  The tiny Jose waved at each of them, driving his one-child car.

“Hello, Jose,” Ann greeted with a wave.

“Oh, hello,” he commented to the Thieves. “Are you exploring this new area too?”

“We have some business here,” Akira said, glancing over to see Sumire utterly lost, and Rin tilting her head. “Have you been following us, Jose?”

“No, but I thought it might be a good idea to try this area’s new flowers,” he said. “I’ll see you later!”  He honked the car’s toy-like horn again, then sped off down the train tracks.

“Anything else I need to know about this crazy place?” Sumire asked. “This is so weird, it’s like Alice and Wonderland,”

“Alice in Wonderland,” Akechi corrected. “The mental world is bound to not make sense from our rational perspective.  That child is no stranger than any Shadow.”

“Why does he have yellow eyes like Elizabeth and Margaret?” Rin asked, to which Akira simply shrugged.

“I don’t really think it’s any of our business,” Akira said.  Rin seemed to accept that, and they set off into the new layer of Mementos that the Metanav had labeled the “Path of Da’at.”

They found the targets of the requests with relative ease and handled them.  As they ascended the floors of the path, the Shadows grew more and more powerful, each battle chipping away at their resources.  New, strange Shadows appeared; not just the ones from Maruki’s Palace and the Qliphoth World, but others; ones that had no interest in negotiation.  There were pairs of Obsidian Gargoyles with unnaturally long arms and no faces that hovered in midair, along with bright red crustaceans with wings that Al Azif called Crimson Fungoides.  They each had odd, bizarrely powerful attacks that caught the Thieves off-guard, but the hardest fight was the pack of five dog-like Shadows they fought close to the top, each called Canine of Corners.   They were oddly immaterial creatures, each with a long, bladed tongue and their solid outlines trailing away into geometric, fractal smoke.

They stopped to rest on an empty floor right before the end.  Akira passed out snacks, coffee and medical supplies.  The climb had been pretty taxing.

“What’s with these new Shadows that don’t wanna talk?” Ann asked as she helped Rin with an energy drink.

“They all feel like those bizarre things we fought in the warehouse,” Haru commented.  Akira shared a brief glance with Rin, neither wanting to bring up that they had discussed this exact scenario.  

They packed their snacks and moved on.  The further they moved into the Path of Da’at, the more Mementos resembled Maruki’s lab.  Eventually, following one final set of escalators, the Thieves found themselves in a large, metallic room.  Glowing cables snaked back and forth across the floor, all feeding into a large glass tube that rose all the way to the extremely high ceiling.  There were futuristic workstations all around, each with a holographic screen that showed some part of Mementos.  The group surmised that they had reached the heart of Maruki’s data-gathering effort.  Futaba moved to try and see what could be done about it, but from behind them, they heard someone walking in.  They turned to see a human figure approaching.  Yusuke and Ryuji readied their weapons, and Akira even caught Makoto pulling the hammer back on her revolver, but when they could see who it was, they were all surprised.

“Lady Lavenza?” Morgana asked.  The small girl approached them with a smile on her face, her expression calm. 

“I thought you could use some assistance in this matter Trickster,” she said, bowing slightly.  Her yellow eyes flicked between the different members of the Thieves. “This place has become exceedingly dangerous, after all.”

“I thought…” Akira began. “What changed?  I thought this world was too taxing for you and your siblings to manifest.  Why-”

“It’s not her,” Rin said, taking a step forward.  Lavenza stopped short, her smile dropping to worry.

“Your confusion and distrust is expected, but-” Lavenza began.

“Witch is right,” Futaba cut her off, her goggles glowing a faint red as she scanned the short figure. “It’s not Lavenza.  She and her sister registered like Mona.  This is some kind of Shadow.”

‘Lavenza’ dropped all pretense, the emotion sliding right off of her face.  Her kind yellow eyes suddenly looked dead, and her voice changed to one of an indeterminate gender, but with a Shadow’s distortion.  “You all continue to surprise me.  I settled on this form after much debate as the most trustworthy and the least suspicious, and you still saw through it.”

A dark haze began to gather around the thing that looked like Lavenza.  In a blur, its form changed to Sojiro with yellow eyes, then to Sae, then to Wakaba, then finally to Maruki in his old lab coat and sandals.  The Shadow stared at them from behind his glasses and flop of curly hair.

“Good thing we’re not that stupid,” Akechi said, drawing his serrated blade. “I assume you’re some security measure Maruki put here to try to protect this area?”

“You are very wrong, distorted echo,” the Shadow said.  Akira raised an eyebrow at the term it used for Akechi, but pushed past it. “I am here of my own free will, as the doctor’s goals and mine align.”

Rin’s eyes narrowed and she shifted in place, brushing her combat sandals on the metal floor.  “If you’re here to stop us, then you’re too late,” she said.

“Far from it,” it replied. “You are too late to stop the world that is to come.”   It darkened, abandoning the shape of a human, growing to monstrous size and adopting a new form.

“I prefer to use intermediaries for this kind of base violence,” it said, its voice deepening and growing in volume. “But you have defeated the other roadblocks I created.  So I shall show you all the truth.”   Its form resolved into a massive, three-legged monster.  Its head was nothing but a mouth, shrouded by tendrils and contorted into a permanent scream, its head a wriggling, serpentine tentacle.  Blue orbs dotted its black body as its green-tinted hands dripped with dark oil.

The entirety of the Phantom Thieves lined up against the creature Futaba’s Persona labeled the Moon Howler.  Cornered as they were, it would be hard to not use the whole group in battle.

Looking back on what Akira would remember of this battle later, he would pinpoint that as their mistake.  

“Hahaha!  Perhaps the time for pawns has not yet passed after all!” it boomed, then raised its hands and unleashed a deep magenta pulse of energy from its gaping mouth, its shroud of tentacles parting.  Akira recognized a status effect attack, but his fears were soon exceeded as Ryuji turned and swung at Akira with his mace.  It was a brainwash attack.

“No!  It got Skull!” Futaba shouted over their mental link from within her Persona.  “And Queen, Noir and Fox!”

Ryuji branshied his weapon again, trying to bring it down on Akira’s head.  Akira blocked with his dagger as he saw the entire team descending into chaos.  Ann was desperately dodging a series of ax swings from Haru, Morgana and Sumire were trying to restrain Makoto as she thrashed about wildly, and Akechi squared off with Yusuke in careful sword duel.  Akira looked back into Ryuji’s eyes, only to find nothing there, just a dark void.

“Skull!” Akira shouted, trying to hold back Ryuji’s attack.  “It’s me!  Snap out of it!  It’s just another trick!”

Rin ran full-tilt at Ryuji, tackling him off Akira, and quickly putting him on a kind of leg-lock where she held both his arms behind his back with her legs.  Akira was momentarily impressed by her ingenuity, but looking over the internal battle tearing his team apart refocused him on the threat: the Shadow.

“I’m working on something to help, Joker,” Futaba said. “But… It's fighting back.  This isn’t just another Brain Jack.  This Shadow, it’s different.”

Akira summoned his metallic angel Persona Sandalphon to blast the Moon Howler with a bless attack, but it just laughed at him.

“You face me alone, Akira Kurusu?” it asked.  Joker reeled back.  How on Earth did this Shadow know his name?  “Yes, I know you.  I am the darkness of the human heart.  I know all humanity, and I know your soul.  Nothing you will do here can possibly matter.  Free will is an illusion.  You think you have escaped the doctor’s prison, but there is no freedom, only larger and smaller cages.”

“You’re wrong!” Akira shouted. “I know we can make a difference.  We can’t… we can’t…”

“Fail?” it said, completing his thought. “Hahaha!  You already have.  I have seen it.  This world is one of many, and I have seen the world where you fall.  In this, and all others.  Nothing you do can ever matter, because in the future of another world, you have already made the opposite choice.  There is no hope!”

“That’s bullshit!” he and Futaba shouted together. 

“Don’t hit us with that ‘multiverse’ crap, you overgrown tripod!” Futaba said.

“I don’t care about other timelines- I’m still here, and I’m still going to stop you!” Akira shouted.  He swapped Personas over to the robed and spear-wielding Odin, who called down lighting on the Shadow.  It seemed to injure it, but only a tiny fraction.

“No, you can’t,” the Moon Howler taunted. “Your mind already cracked when it touched oblivion.  Let me show you the futility of your actions.”

The Shadow raised its hand at Akira, and suddenly his mind was assaulted again.  He screamed and doubled over as images and sensations crashed through his mind.  He felt burning heat, smelled decay, and could taste the void.  He saw Tokyo.  A dozen different Tokyos; each with something terribly wrong with them.  The red-veined Mementos Fusion they had averted was there, but then there were more.  One where a yellow fog shrouded the entire city as a multi-colored eye gazed down as the citizens slowly disintegrated into mist, then one where the people on the street were replaced with crystal coffins as the moon grew larger and larger in the green-blue sky.

He tried to shut them out, keep his wits about him and remember the techniques for mental control that Maruki had taught him, but the screams of an entire city dying filled his ears.  He saw Tokyo turned inside out, the souls of its inhabitants consumed to birth a new god as angels and demons warred over the sand-blasted hellscape that the city had become.  Then a chillingly un-fantastical vision of Tokyo: missiles raining down and vaporizing the city in a mushroom cloud.

Each of these visions were compressed with dozens more, like individual frames of a film that made no sense, but played so loud as to drown out all else.

“This is no time to keel over, Joker!” he heard Akechi say at the same time he saw the world end.  Vision, after vision, after vision cascaded over him.  He wanted to scream; he might already have been screaming, but he couldn't hear his own voice over the thousands of lives being ended as Maruki smiled at him and the world faded away into the roar of the void.

“Joker!” he almost heard Futaba shout. “Something happening… I can’t see… I can’t…”

The rest of what she said was lost as Akira’s entire world became the thrumming laughter of a malicious god.

---

Futaba Sakura looked around herself.  She was supposed to be at the bottom of Mementos, supporting her team, but she wasn’t.  Instead, she was standing at the top of a ruined building, in a lifeless, ruined Tokyo that was buried by sand.

Her mind raced as she looked around.  Her goggles were gone, but she was still in her Metaverse outfit, with its skin tight bodysuit and neon green lines.  She gazed out over the city around here.  There wasn’t a single living thing in sight.  The building she was on was slightly askew, leaned up against a massive hill of sand that was so tall that the top of it spilled over onto the roof, just a bit.  All around her were the sand-blasted ruins of Tokyo.  Gone was the sea, gone was the horizon, like the city now existed in a permanent sandstorm.  She could see the Tokyo Skytree past another row of office buildings, partially destroyed.  

She tried to think back.  She’d been trying to support her teammates after several of them had succumbed to a powerful brainwashing spell.  She had just prepared a special cleansing effect, but then her vision had begun to dim, and Al Azif had warned about… what was that warning it had given her? “Dimensional…” something.  Futaba swore, not used to not remembering something.  And now here she was, trapped in some kind of dream or hallucination.  She was still not quite over spending a week with her dead mother, and now whenever the hell this Shadow was had trapped her in another illusion.  Al Azif had given it another name beyond Moon Howler, something Egyptian-sounding.  Was that related to the sandy expanse before her?  There were no pyramids here, just her memories of her own tomb, and a blazing, dry heat.

Was there anything here?  It felt like a post-apocalyptic landscape, like those Australian action movies with the cool cars.  Was this nothing more than a figment of her dying imagination?  Or had she been-

“Hello, Oracle.”

Futaba spun around to see a person on the roof with her, where there had been no one else moments ago.  He looked to be a man of perhaps twenty or thirty.  He was tall, with an slender, almost androgynous figure and well-coiffed blond hair that was carefully slicked, but feathered in the back.  He was dressed in an immaculately tailored double-breasted black business blazer, with an orange tie and spotless black dress pants and shoes.  Everything about him was far too clean and slick to fit in with the sandy surroundings.  Futaba focused on his eyes, and saw that he was heterochromatic: his left eye was a deep red, and his right was a rich blue.

“Who are you?” Futaba found herself almost shouting.  “Where am I?  Are my friends… Did you do this to me?”

“You have so many questions, but only some of them are relevant,” he replied, his voice smooth and even.  He was unnaturally calm.  Futaba knew instantly that he wasn’t human.  He couldn’t be.  If she was even still alive.

If any of this was even real.

“My name… well, I suppose you can call me Louis,” the man said, scratching his chin with a ringed finger. “As for where you are, it’s Tokyo.  But not your Tokyo, in either the past or the future.  You might call it a… possible Tokyo.”

“I know what a parallel universe is,” Futaba responded, slightly annoyed. “I’ve seen movies before.  You dragged me to some apocalyptic timeline… for what?”

Louis smiled. “To save you,” he said, turning and walking down the slope of sand piled against the building.  Futaba was annoyed, but hurried after him, sliding past him down the bank of sand.

“Are my friends safe?” Futaba asked as Louis finished walking down the slope, the sand sliding right off his dress shoes.

“That depends on a great many things, Oracle,” he said. “They were attacking each other, and at the mercy of an Outer God, so I would say no, but you were preparing to aid them.  So perhaps the answer is yes.”  Futaba was quickly burning though what little patience she had.  This cryptic super-being was more annoying than any Shadow they had faced, but she had to go along with him if she wanted answers.

“What do you want?” Futaba asked.

“I want a certainty of outcomes,” Louis said as he passed Futaba and kept walking.  Futaba followed after him.

“What outcome do you want to make certain of?” she asked.

“Your victory,” Louis said. “Your world is one I have always treasured, because He was unable to influence it.  And even though He is unable to directly affect your world, His design and intentions can still manifest.  Patterns propagate, regardless of intent.  You handily defeated His shadow in the Grail, but now this doctor with the Idiot God in his heart is trying to carry on a dream that will bring about a vision of the world very close to His.”  Louis stopped and looked back at Futaba.  “Too close.”

“Can you just skip to the part where you help me?” Futaba asked, frustrated by his rambling.

“My, the children are impatient these days,” he said, snorting a small laugh. “I had to convince Stephen to help me contact you like this, in this imaginary pocket space, and you just can’t wait to leave.”

He kept walking, and Futaba was forced to follow him as he made his way around the ruined city.  “Your world is important to me, Oracle.  More than you could ever know.  But I can see that you are concerned for your friends, so I will keep this brief.”  They arrived at a clearing, what might have been the Shibuya crosswalk, buried under sand.  It was hard to tell where they were with so many landmarks eroded.  “The location you are fighting at in your world is one of immense significance.  It can empower lesser, banished Shadows like the unwelcome guest currently making a mess of your group, but it can also allow those outside your world to cross over, if they are powerful or interested.  And I am both of those things.”

“Then you can help us fight that… thing?” she asked, remembering the other name her Persona had assigned it. “That… ‘Nyarlathotep’?”

Louis shook his head, his blond hair fluttering slightly.  “Each transgression across borders invites a reaction and reprisal.  Even I dare not interfere beyond this chat.  But this fact can be used against your foe, for he is an interloper.  He should not be there.  If you can attract the attention of higher powers, then the reprisal he deserves will deal with him and remove him from your world.”

“So I… call his bosses and tell them to come deal with it?” Futaba asked.  It couldn’t be that simple, could it?

“If it is helpful to think of it that way,” Louis said. “I can give you a phrase that will summon a being that will ‘deal’ with him.  Though it will only work once, and only at your current location, as that is the only location where such a summoning can occur.”

“And you’re sure you can’t come back and help more?” Futaba asked. “You’re clearly some kind of big-shot metaphysical super-boss.”

Louis smiled and chuckled. “My aid and power is available in your world to those who have cultivated the power of the Star.  Your Joker can call upon me, but he has chosen to avoid summoning me, as he is frightened of what my power may represent.  If you make it out of this mess, tell him this from me: it is not the effect of great power he should be concerned about, but what those with power will do to those without.”

Futaba swallowed hard.  That particular sentence felt ominous.  The wind picked up and pelted her with sand; she felt it was time to go, but she had one last question to ask.

“Why me?” she said. “Why not tell this right to Joker if you know him?”

“Because I want to minimize my involvement,” Louis said, reaching into the pocket of his blazer. “And you hold the tome of forbidden knowledge in your world, so you are much easier to contact.”  He withdrew a small, rigid rectangle of black paper: a business card.  He extended it towards Futaba, between his index and middle finger.

Futaba reached a hand out, but felt herself recoil with doubt. “And there are no catches for this help?  No fine print?”

“Normally, there would be,” Louis said. “But in this, I offer only knowledge, and I offer it freely.  Our objectives align.”

Futaba reached forward again, and tentatively took the black business card from his fingers.

And before she could form another thought, she was gone.

---

Akira’s head felt exceedingly empty.  The visions had stopped, as had the screaming from his party.  He stood, shaky at first, but was helped to his feet by Ryuji and Yusuke, who had apparently been cured of their brainwash-effect.  He looked around, and saw four of the Thieves lined up against the Moon Howler.   Morgana, Akechi, Sumire and Ann held the line against a wave of Almighty attacks from the Shadow.

“You feelin’ better, bro?” Ryuji said as he steadied Akira and helped him stand.  Rin, Haru and Makoto were a few feet away, hiding behind a computer console and patching each other up with their medical supplies. 

Akira was about to respond, when he looked up and noticed that Futaba’s Persona was glowing with… unusual colors.  The runes on the underside of the triangle shifted and changed, and Akira could have sworn he heard… chanting?  What was happening?

“Oracle, what are you doing?” Akira asked, his throat sore like he had been screaming.  (Had he been screaming?  He couldn’t remember.)

There was no response as the droning, chanting sound from her Persona and shifting lights reached a fevered pitch.  Then, without warning, the metallic triangle stopped and a noiseless pulse of sound emanated from her Persona.  Everything in the room stumbled at the sudden lack of noise, even the Shadow.  It seemed to look around, its green tentacles writhing.  It seemed… shock?  Anxious?  Akira could hardly be said to be an expert in its body language.

“No!” it shouted. “No human has had that knowledge in a century!” Akira looked back up at Futaba’s hovering Persona, but something else caught his eyes instead: an eye.

On the impossibly high ceiling of the cavernous room they were in, was an eye.  A human eye had opened, and it was the size of the entire room.  Akira blinked, and it wasn’t an eye anymore, it was a glowing, luminous ball of energy.  Akira blinked again, trying to make sense of it, and the ball had multiplied, and not instead of giving off light, they looked like bubbles filled with swirling nebulae and stars.  Akira glanced down at his teammates, only to find each of them also staring up at the sight unfolding above them.  Akira looked back up only to see even more spheres, but instead of bubbles they now resembled spheres of flesh and blood, with fibrous tendons holding them together and black ichor flowing across their surfaces, dripping upwards.

At that moment, Akira knew what it meant to see something your mind could not comprehend.

The spheres grew and multiplied downward, each time shifting and changing, until the entire space some ten meters above them was occupied by human eyeballs, each wildly swinging about.  

Then, each eye turned on the Moon Howler.

The Shadow seemed to shrink under the pressure of the many-eyed gaze.  “Guardian-Gate, I-”

You have transgressed beyond your role, Crawling Chaos.

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere.  It was a deafening silence that reverberated in every fiber of Akira’s being.  

You can not remain where you are not permitted.

“All-in-One, no!” the Shadow protested. “If this world ends then, our kind may be free again.  I have aligned the stars, you need only let me fulfill-”

You will not remain where you are not permitted.

Akira glanced down from the unblinking eyes to see the Moon Howler be rent apart, shredded by invisible forces down the green and black dust.

It didn’t even have time to scream.

The eyes turned to look at the Phantom Thieves.  They all tried to prepare themselves for whatever might come next, but Akira still felt exhausted.  Instead of any attack or another thunderously quiet voice, the orbs shifted again, rapidly shrinking and multiplying until there was nothing but a sea of light brown specks suspended above them.  It was sand, he realized; an inverted sand dune.  The sand began to fall in a narrow column in front of all of them, like it was the top of hourglass.  The frontline backed away, but they were all too exhausted to put up any real defense if whatever this thing was turned out to be hostile.

The falling sand reshaped itself into a human figure.  Tall, but completely obscured by a pure white shroud.  As it emerged, Akira noticed Futaba touch down on the ground next to him, her Persona recalled.  

“Greeting, children of men,” the white-robed figure said to them, his voice strangely accented, but smooth and pleasant.

“Who are you?” Makoto asked, standing up from behind the console.

“Do you mean to harm us?” Yusuke asked.

“I am called ’Umr At-Tawil by some,” the figure said. “And I mean you no harm.  The Crawling Chaos was banished from this world, and as a relation from the other side of what you understand as the Sea of Souls, I was bound to hold him to the law.”

“So that thing is gone?” Akechi said, his sword still drawn.

“And you’re not going to harvest our eyes or anything?” Rin added.

“The Crawling Chaos can no longer access your minds, or the minds of mankind,” the figure said.  It made some indecipherable gesture beneath its shroud.  “Your destinies are your own to shape.”

And with that, the figure vanished in white mist.  

“That was fucked up,” Ryuji said.

Akira agreed.  They all wanted to talk, but no-one had much to say.  They were all injured from the battle, and Akira could feel that most of them just wanted to get this over with.  Futaba hacked the system controlling how Maruki gathered data, which cleared a path forward back in the Palace.

On their way out of Mementos, Futaba slipped Akira a small black business card.  There were dark gray characters that looked like Arabic on one side, but it was what was on the other side that shocked him.  In silver letters he saw a name:

LOUIS CYPHER The Morning Star

Akira recognized the pseudonym.  He swallowed hard and looked back at Futaba, who shrugged at him. “Where did you get this?” he whispered to her.

“I think my Persona gave it to me?” she said, her brow creasing in confusion. “I don’t really know what happened.  It’s hard to remember…  But something tells me you should have it.  Like the star Jose gave us: it feels like it’s for you.”

Akira wondered what force could possibly evade Futaba’s near-eidetic memory, and felt a chill roll down his spine considering that question.  He still felt sick from the Shadow’s assault.  They’d have to take some time to recuperate.  Hopefully things would be smoother for them in Maruki’s Palace.

---

Nyarlathotep is ejected from the Metaverse.  His no-quite corporal form that he projects from his exile is spat out on a rooftop in Tokyo, one that overlooks Shibuya.  His disguise is failing, so he reverts to an older form: the man with long gray hair and a red suit, the one with the monocle.

How dare that brat call upon the All-in-One?  How dare the One-in-All banish him?  This is their only chance to return.  There is no other way.  The Crawling Chaos seethes, rapidly pacing on the deserted rooftop, trying to put together a new plan.  He overstepped his bounds, directly confronting Persona-users like that, but he needed to stop them soon.  It was a calculated risk, and the math is rapidly changing now.  The odds of them being able to overcome the doctor and his expression of Azathoth are too slim.  But he needs to hurry.  This transgression will attract the attention of his opposite, and in his weakened state, he is no match for Philemon’s tools.  If he-

“There you are.”

Nyarlathotep stops as he hears the voice behind him.  No, no, this is not the end.  Even those who rule over power can be tempted, after all.  He turns to see which of them has tracked him down.  The man suddenly sharing the rooftop with him is tall, with platinum hair slicked back under a blue cap.  He is dressed in a blue outfit reminiscent of an elevator attendant’s, a thick tome with a mauve cover held in his arm.

“You evaded us for some time,” he says, his yellow eyes staring into Nyarlathotep’s illusory ones. “But you must leave.  You were defeated and banished.  Your interference is unwelcome.”

“You’re not looking at this right, attendant,” Nyarlathotep says.  “You’re not thinking of the possibilities.”

“There are no possi-” the man begins, waving a hand.

“You could bring her back,” Nyarlathotep says. 

The man freezes.

“Oh yes, Theodore, I know about her”, he continues, sensing opportunity. “I know your sister left her duties when she lost him, but you chose to stay when you lost her.  In this world, humans’ hearts are being mended and even the dead may live again.  She could return.”  The man called Theodore takes a step closer as Nyarlathotep continues: “The barrier between desire and reality has never been weaker.  If you stay, keep this world in place, you can finally save her.”

“And what would you know about her?” Theodore asks, his voice low and dangerous.  He waves his hand, and Nyarlathotep’s human guise falls away.  Where the red-suited man with a monocle stood, now there is a thin humanoid with black, stonelike skin.  It has no hands or feet, only sharp claws at the end of its spindly limbs.  Small red wings spread out behind it, motionless as it floats just off the roof.  There is no face on its head, but black orbs set all around its head are surmounted by a golden crown made of endless spines.

“You are the darkness of the human heart manifested,” Theodore says. “You misjudged their potential when you thought humanity would destroy itself.  Because of that, you have failed to grasp why she made the choices she did, because you cannot understand sacrifice.  You are selfishness, greed, spite, nihilism and misery, given form.  Nothing more.”

“You cannot destroy me,” the mouthless creature says, its voice calmer, more accepting.  It knows what comes next. “I am undeniably part of the human heart.  I am eternal.  Where there is darkness, there are Shadows.”

“And to the shadows you shall return,” Theodore says, opening the book in his arms.  “You do not belong in this world.”  He thrusts his hand forward, and the crowned creature disappears in a flash.

His quarry finally banished back to beyond the world of humanity, Theodore sighs deeply.  He looks over the edge of the roof, to the busy street below, where humanity remains enthralled.  Shutting the Crawling Chaos out of the world won’t undo the damage he has done, but now he can do no more.

Theodore feels his arms grow weak.  This reality has already worn him down, he can’t handle much more of it.  He needs to return to his master and report.  Then he and his sisters can return to their duties.  

The fate of the world falls to a group of young Persona-users yet again.  Perhaps that is how it is meant to be.

Wearily, Theodore opens a door back to the Velvet Room, and disappears.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 1 - Decoy [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Here we go my loves, the first chapter! ❤ I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

As always, I don’t own anything.

Word Count: 2200

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, death, manipulation, language.

Summary: Trouble has a way of following certain people.

Sometimes you wondered whether you would run away screaming when you were a child if you knew what kind of a person you would turn into.

It wasn’t exactly your fault though. For years and years, several people had put the blame on several different things. Eventually they would reach the same conclusion though; the psychiatrists, your superiors, the very few people you could call your family, they all agreed on one thing.

It wasn’t you, it was the abandonment.

The abandonment you went through when you were a teenager had somehow started this domino, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop this constant fall, not even you.

But as you would figure out soon, you were lucky. Instead of being consumed by your anger, you could direct it somewhere else. You were recruited and trained from a very young age, and somewhere along the way, you realized that if you wanted to survive you were going to have to sacrifice certain things.

Forgiveness was the first one to disappear. Guilt was another.

Then fear.

Then, love.

Ah well. Worse things happen in the world every day.

If anything it made your job easier.

You cracked your neck and opened the door to your apartment, the key sticking to your fingers because of the blood on your hands for a moment and you made a face as you shut the door, leaning back.

A very long shower and a bottle of wine sounded like a good idea.

You placed your gun on the table, took the dagger strapped to your thigh out of its holster and got the knives out of the heels of your shoes before flinging yourself onto your couch and turning the TV on.

“Also called Sokovia Accords 2.0 by the critics—“

“What the superheroes think about this remains a mystery—“

“The first time caused a huge rift between Captain America and Iron Man but nobody knows the new Captain America Sam Wilson’s comment on it—“

You didn’t get to change the channel again when your phone started vibrating in your pocket, making you sit up straight. You muted the TV, and checked the caller I.D before you answered.

“Hey there.”

“Hi, how’s Paris?” the cheerful voice of your best friend reached you, “Had enough croissants yet?”

A small smile pulled at your lips. After your only parental figure had left you to go God knew where, General had decided to adopt you and raise you like a daughter. His actual daughter Chloe had welcomed you with open arms, and you had been best friends since then.

Her being the top analyst of the division didn’t hurt either.

“Mm hm, because that’s all I’m doing. Eating croissants, visiting museums—”

“Killing and maiming targets...” she mused, finishing your sentence for you and you heaved a sigh.

“Somehow that last one isn’t included in the city guide,” you pointed out. “Chloe, you know this is a line for—“

“Official contact from General, yeah yeah,” she said, “In my defense, you didn’t pick up the phone an hour ago when I called you from my phone.”

“Do you know how hard it is to use touch screen when your hands are covered in blood?”

“What happened to your sniper rifle, did it fall into Seine?”

“It required close combat,” you said, “And the target swallowed the chip before I could get it, so I had to perform a spontaneous autopsy.”

“Just so you know, whenever you talk about your job I have to watch like a hundred cute videos after I hang up.”

“Happens.” you said, “How’s everything?”

“You missed us already?”

You grinned, “Maybe.”

“Good, because dad wants you back. He’ll contact you any day now.”

Your head snapped up and you stood up from the couch, “Really?”

“Duh. Have you seen how negotiations for these new Accords are going? It’s going to be a mess and we need you here.”

“The second one hasn’t passed officially.”

“Well no, but you know how my father thinks.” she said and you tilted your head.

“Are we sure it’s General who wants me there and not you?”

“Okay, that was one prank ages ago and I didn’t hear the end of it!” she protested, “Don’t you trust me at all?”

“Nope.”

“You know, I’m being the perfect friend and calling you to give you some good news but if you’re going to be like this, my news can wait until you get here.”

You pulled your brows together, “What news?”

“What do I get in return?”

“My endless gratitude,” you deadpanned, “Come on. What news?”

“You can’t tell anyone yet but I think you’re getting a promotion.”

Your breath got caught in your throat, “You’re joking.”

“Don’t forget about me when you become a handler, you hear me?” She let out a laugh, I need friends in high places.”

“Your dad runs the division Chloe. It doesn’t get any higher than that.”

“That doesn’t count!”  

You pressed a hand over your chest, “Just— what kind of a promotion are we talking about?”

“I mean I snooped around his files and casually committed treason.” she said, “But even I don’t know yet. They must be still making the adjustments.”

You opened your mouth to reply but then your phone vibrated again and you lowered it to check the message on the screen.

It was simple but again, all his texts were simple and to the point.

From: General

Time to come back. Jet leaves in 2 hours.

Here goes my shower and wine night.

“Chloe?” you said, walking to the sink to wash your hands so that you could start packing, “You want anything from here? I’m coming home.”

                                              ***

The best thing about being on the move all the time was that you could pack in minutes and the division would take care of the things you had left behind.

Apartments, belongings-

Not that you carried any belongings with you, or bought any more than necessary. It would’ve made you form a bond, which was less than ideal for any spy.

You suppressed the yawn splitting your face and made your way to General’s office. This jet-lag was going to make your life pretty difficult in the following 24 hours, and you were painfully aware of it, but it wasn’t like you could just ask for some time to rest.

That could wait. Your job was more important.

“General?” you knocked on the half open door and he raised his head to look at you before motioning you to enter the room.

“Y/N,” he said, “Close the door please. It’s good to have you back.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Take a seat,” he said and you cleared your throat, then perched on the edge of the chair.

“I’ve heard you eliminated the threat and got rid of our target quite fast,” he said, “And we have the chip now.”

You nodded silently, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“Well, that shows me you’re ready for the next step,” he said “No reason to beat around the bush, you’re getting a promotion.”

Pride burst through your system but you tried to control your expression to stop the grin threatening to pull at your lips.

“Thank you sir.”

“Here are the details for your next mission,” he said, handing you a file that was stamped as Top Secret and you flipped the page to find information about your next identity.

Alias: Shrike

“Shrike,” you murmured to yourself, turning the pages, “Like the bird?”

“Mm hm. I assume you’ve heard about the Accords issue?”

You looked up, “Only a little,” you said, “The first one was a disaster and the government had to drop it after The Blip due to the public’s reaction, resurrected people insisted that the superheroes were the ones who saved them, not the government. Then the government said they would go over the details and change it in a way that would benefit both the public and the superheroes, but I haven’t seen the new version.”

“There were some adjustments but to be honest with you, it’s the same deal. We can’t have superheroes running wild with no orders,” he said, “I need you on both fronts, one with terminating specific targets, and one with….well, you’ll see.”

You flipped the page and blinked a couple of times, your stomach dropping.

You were good, but you weren’t that good.

“You- you’re sending me after Captain America, sir?”

“Ah no,” he said, “Don’t worry. Wilson doesn’t have a past we can use against him, and trust me, we checked. The guy is an actual hero but we need a bad guy.”

You turned the page and shut your eyes for a moment.

Bucky Barnes.

Right. You should’ve known.

The government wanted and needed Captain America on their side, but Bucky Barnes could fall for all they cared.

“Sir I appreciate your trust in my abilities but not even an army could take down the Winter Soldier the last time—” you started but General shook his head.

“Y/N, you’re not going to kill him,” he said, “That’s the second front I was talking about. We need you to get close to him, to form a personal bond and gather intel we can use in the future.”

You gawked at him, “I’m sorry?”

“Barnes is the perfect candidate. He can help us with necessary information to prove to the public that superheroes need to answer to someone; us. Besides if it all goes bad, we can just say he was a threat. With that kind of past no one would think he was innocent to begin with.”

Your head was spinning. Scratch that, the whole room was spinning.

You were good at finding and terminating targets, not forming personal bonds or playing this

“When you say get close to him….” You trailed off, your voice way too weak and he smiled slightly.

“You’re an attractive woman, I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.”

That. That was your promotion.

Not an operations officer, not a handler, but a lover who also happened to kill people.

They were going to use you as a honey trap for him.

“Sir, I don’t think-“ you started, but he held up a hand.

“Before you say no,” he said, “Let me remind you that this will benefit your career greatly, and you will have your own team. Show us you can handle it, and the position you want will be within your reach, you have my word. You want to be a handler, don’t you?”

You dragged your fingernails on the file, deep in thought.

“Barnes is one of the many dangerous people we may need to stop one day, and the only way to do it is to keep him under control and learn everything he knows until we’re ready to take him in.”

“But if these new Accords don’t pass—“ you started but he shook his head.

“Even if they don’t, and that’s a big if,” he said, “He’s still a valuable asset to have. We all have to perform certain missions, Y/N. Even if we don’t particularly like them. You will thank me in the future, when your career flourishes.”

Your blinked a couple of times, a bitterness appearing in your mouth.

“Of course,” you managed to say, “You’re— you’re right sir. It’s a good plan. I accept the position.”

“Great!” he clapped his hands together, “We have a target for you for tomorrow night, there’s this gallery opening. He needs to be eliminated, I think you can handle that? Start planning how it will go with Barnes as well, we can’t lose any time.”

You pursed your lips together and closed the file, “Of course.”

“Congratulations.” he leaned in slightly, “Your dad would be so proud of you if he could see you now.”

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it felt like it was getting bigger and bigger.

“I don’t need his approval,” you rasped out and walked to the door, but stopped when you heard him speak.

“Shrike,” he used your alias for the first time and you looked over your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I don’t have to remind you that this mission is top secret. If he figures out who you are, or what you’re up to…” he clicked his tongue, “Kill him.”

You paused for a moment, then tilted your head and smiled at him.

“As you wish, sir.” you managed to say, then walked out of his office as if someone was chasing you. You made your way straight to the bathroom and slammed the file on the marble counter, then pulled out the small picture sticking out from the corner. It was an old black and white picture of him with Steve Rogers, probably taken in the 40s, both of them smiling. 

When you lowered the picture to attach it back to the paper, your eyes caught the tiny print under his aliases.

Confirmed Kills: Exact number unknown (Credited with 100+ assassinations)

You were in way, way over your head now.

“Oh, fuck.”

                                  Chapter 2

[violettelueur]

GOJO SATORU || BOTH OF YOU FORGETTING YOUR WEDDING ANNIVERSARY

| featuring : gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors but other than that n/a

| form : headcanons

| published : 10 december 

| request : Omgsh hcs or imagine on like let’s say the reader is very close to the first years kinda like a mom right. With gojo and you having busy schedules you guys forget your wedding anniversary buttt the students surprise you 🤧 like they end up at your house and surprise you awww and maybe you all just end up going to Disney like a whole family 🥺😍

| barista’s notes : hi hi everyone! barista violettelueur is back from her little one day break and is back to write some more ʕ´•ᴥ•`ʔ also thank you to everyone that had answered the little questionnaire that i had the other day and the little question that i had today, it really helped me alt - also the imagine that i was talking about is halfwritten and just sitting in my files...lowkey i abandoned it ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ BUT, other that that, i hope whoever requested this enjoys their cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and please come again soon!

Since you and Gojo were known to be the two most powerful sorcerers within the jujutsu world as well as at Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, there was no surprise that the both of you were quite busy compared to the average sorcerer.

To be honest, many people would be surprised at the fact that the both of you were married due to your busy schedules, if it wasn’t for Gojo always bragging about you 24/7.

As much as his bragging annoyed the first-years, they genuinely really liked you and saw you as a mother figure.

Since you knew they came to the school on their own, you took it upon yourself to make sure they feel welcomed and made sure that they were taken care of.

Going back to yours and Gojo’s relationship, since you both were so busy dealing with paperwork and mission on top of that, you both had completely forgotten about your wedding anniversary…..

Like how? You two have been married for quite some time….like how?

However, even though you two had completely forgotten about your special day, it seemed like his students hadn't at all.

How did they know it was your wedding anniversary? It was because of Gojo-sensei’s constant bragging about you and his wedding….

Since they had figured out that you and Gojo had forgotten about your day, they all suggested that they surprise you and Gojo, since it was what they wanted they could do to thank you both for the mentorship as well as constant care that you have given them.

After a hard mission that you and Gojo were sent together for - meaning this was the first time in a while that the both of you could be together - this, of course, lead Gojo to be extremely more clingy than usually to which you couldn’t blame him for since you were feeling a little touched starve as well from the amount of time you had been away from each other.

However, it wasn’t ideal for you to try to unlock the door to your shared home.

“Satoru, you’re so heavy, get off me so I can unlock the door!”

“But honey~ you’re so warm and it’s cold outside”

After a few minutes of arguing, you somehow managed to unlock the door with your keys and open it to get inside so you and Gojo could freshen up and get some rest.

However, what you were greeted with was what woke you up as you saw three of your students standing in the doorway with Kugisaki holding a white cake with candles lit up.

“HAPPY WEDDING ANNIVERSARY!”

“Huh? Wedding anniversary…..?”

“OH MY GOD, I FORGOT MY WEDDING ANNIVERSARY?!”

To say for the first-years, your reaction was quite funny to see you shocked that you had forgotten such an important date with Gojo behind you, having the same reaction - yeah….best couple award goes to the both of you.

Once you got over the shock, you thanked the students with a motherly hug, while telling them that you loved them with all your heart and that they should stay to share the cake - much to Gojo’s dismay since he wanted to eat the whole cake by himself…..fat so

“Why don’t we go to Disneyland?” Itadori then asked, causing you to laugh before answering with, “maybe next year when I don’t forget”

Overall, you celebrated like a family with you and Gojo being the parents and Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki being your three kids.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

A FMC x Lavinia hurt/comfort fic, where Lavinia comforts FMC or the other way around. I feel really lonely currently.. I'm going through a tough time and I kind of crave some comfort :/ Thank you and sorry for bothering you. Take care :3

Written by @blue-is-the-coolest-color

It felt good to be in the camper again. Between fluffy blankets and surrounded by random books Lavinia has picked up from libraries or bookstores that have interested her. It’s a strange collection, fairy tales and fiction, a few vegetarian cookbooks scattered about the small kitchen area, a few books about animals or fauna. A collection to capture Lavinia’s curiosities of this world.

Speak of the devil. Annisa had to move her arm quickly as the taller woman shifted next to her until she managed to snuggle up close against her, wrapping her arms around Annisa and placing her head on her chest. Annisa rolled her eyes affectionately as she put down the book she had been flipping through in favor of running her hands through Lavinia’s hair.

“You’re very affectionate tonight,” Annisa pointed out, though she really couldn’t blame Lavinia for a bit of clinginess. It had been weeks since they had been able to have a moment alone, but she could tell the ordeal with Rapunzel had caused something short of frustration to play on Lavinia. The girl was distant since she arrived at the camper, deep in thought at moments with her brows furrowed together and lips tight. Annisa had played it off as exhaustion after everything, but now she was a bit more worried as she felt Lavinia cuddle as close as possible.

“Thinking.”

“Ever articulate.”

Annisa teased as she started rubbing circles into Lavinia’s shoulder blades. Soothing the tension that stuck there and causing a soft sound very reminiscent of a purr to leave Lavinia’s lips. The two stayed like that for a moment before Lavinia gently pushed away until she was on her elbows hovering closely. Annisa could see the confusion and frustration in the other woman’s eyes as she waited patiently to see if Lavinia would deflect or if she would say what had been haunting her for the last hour and a half.

“Ranpuzel has killed innocent witches. Simply for being witches, and she wanted to kill me regardless of what it would do to the people of my kingdom. She even threatened the witchling, and yet-” Lavinia’s eyes narrowed slightly in a brief glare as if the reasoning of it pissed her off, “and your friends are really going to let all that go? Even though she’s proud of those she’s slain.”

Annisa listened patiently, not commenting as she felt Lavinia’s arms tense and relaxed with the statements, as if Lavinia was trying to keep from letting the anger consume her more than it has.

“We are not unalike.”

Lavinia admitted reluctantly, as if the statement was acid in her throat.

“We both grew up in less than ideal situations, used or thrown away, isolated, forced to struggle for years. We crawled out of it in different ways, killed people, did horrible things in the name of our own selfish justice or reasoned it in whatever way. We both-”

Lavinia trailed off hard and Annisa had to fight the urge to brush the long silver hair out of her face as it slipped from her shoulders. There’s a pain in Lavinia’s voice, on that Annisa hadn’t heard too often from the other girl before.

“Gothel,” Lavinia tried to articulate what she wanted to say, but it’s choked and Annisa feels her heart break at the sound.

“Lavinia,” Annisa pushed herself up a bit as Lavinia hastily rubbed at her eyes and tried to go back to how she was laying.

“Forget it, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not,” Annisa argued as she let her hands move to Lavinia’s face, trying to get the woman to look at her, “it’s hurting you, so it’s not nothing.”

Lavinia looked away, a bit of shame crossing her face.

“I was once a student of Gothel. There was a time, back when I was young, that I wanted to be strong and feared like her. Because then maybe I could hold on to the things that mattered to me, then maybe-” Lavinia’s eyes darkened and she tried to turn her head as to no look into Annisa’s eyes, but Annisa still saw the tears the threatened to spill over, “I was orphaned when I was very young, I couldn’t use magic, I was alone. Gothel had this power and I wanted her to teach me. She didn’t at first, but decided I was amusing and worth playing with. She’d send me on these ridiculous errands and I’d do an insane amount of magical research to try and convince her I was worth her time.

Then my magic appeared, my ice alignment made itself known and suddenly I was the only student Mother Gothel wanted to teach. She taught me spells she wouldn’t utter to the other witches in her coven. It felt like she had taken me under her wing. I would have done anything for her.”

Annisa listened quietly, horrified by the raw pain that had claimed Lavinia’s throat. She had known Rapunzel was a victim of Gothel, but hearing that Lavinia had also been a target caused her heart to ache for the woman in her arms.

“She told me about how she planned to kill the ice king and needed my help. I was important to this mission and she needed me to follow her orders to the T. I was so excited to help her, to make a real difference and to take down the Tyrant who abused his power and caused the mass slaughter of so many magical beings in the ice kingdom. The king liked to set up his own witch hunts where he’d release a witch he had captured into his private woods to hunt down and kill. Our plan was for me to get captured and to wait for Gothel who would come and stage a breakout. During the panic she would kill the king while I distracted all his guards with a permafrost spell I had read about in a book.

So I did my part, I let the king catch me and I lived in the dungeon underneath the castle. I waited for Gothel to appear. I waited weeks, starving in a dark wet cell. I was so hungry, I hadn’t felt hunger that strong since arriving at the orphanage. Eventually it was my turn to be hunted, and when they let me into those woods I decided I would kill the king myself. So I used an old spell Gothel had me test a while ago and I slaughtered almost all of the king’s men in the forest. And then I killed him and sat on the throne covered in blood and announced that the king had fallen.”

“Gothel had left, abandoned me there, then had the nerve to show up two weeks after my coronation and demand I give her magic in exchange for teaching me. We fought and I threw up the magical barrier around my kingdom using one of her spells for spite.”

“I guess that explains how you don’t age.” Annisa interrupted and then almost hit herself for such a sudden outburst, but Lavinia nodded.

“I don’t age because it’s the same spell Gothel uses to steal magic, only my people can refuse to give me their magic, they offer up their magic to keep the barriers around the kingdom, so I guess in a way I’m not giving them much of a choice.”

Lavinia sighed, balancing herself on one arm for a moment to run a hand through her hair.

“I let all my pain get the better of me, and I hurt more people because I was too afraid of losing my newfound power. I wanted to keep everything out, because that’s how everything could stay safe,” Lavinia shook her head, “I sound like a maniac.”

“Lavinia, it doesn’t matter what you did before, all that matters to me is that you’re trying to do better now,” Annisa flashed the other girl a soft smile, “what Gothel did to you was horrible, and you shouldn’t have had to suffer to feel like you weren’t alone.”

“But I always am, somehow.”

It’s so quiet and heartbreaking to hear Lavinia’s voice like this. Annisa’s smile dropped as she tried to process the hurt, pain, and anger flashing through Lavinia’s icy eyes.

“To have a chance like Rapunzel has been given. To actually be allowed to keep writing my story without having to hurt you more to do so. I’d have to bend over backwards to be given a quarter the chance at redemption that she’s been allowed after everything. Why? Because her story deemed her a hero despite her murders and crimes?”

Maybe weeks ago Annisa would have said something to defend Rapunzel, defend why she should be given chance after chance where Lavinia shouldn’t. Lavinia dropped her head back to her shoulder in frustration.

“...You’re mad because they won’t give you that chance,” Annisa commented as she wrapped her arms around Lavinia’s shoulders, keeping her in place when she felt her start to shift, “I didn’t think you cared so much about what they thought about you.”

“I don’t,” Lavinia grumbled into her shoulder, “but I know it would be easier for you if they trusted me to keep you safe at least. Then maybe you wouldn’t have to sneak around to see me.”

Annisa held the woman tighter, placing a firm kiss to her head as she felt her relax into her arms.

“They’re not all against you. Arin wants to give you a chance, and I could convince Oliver to as well. And you have me.”

“As long as I have you.”

Of course the melting queen would sneak in some sweet nothings while they layed there, Annisa couldn’t say she was surprised by the familiar affection in Lavinia’s voice.

“So you're using me as a pillow here all night? I’m supposed to be home.”

Lavinia smirked, wrapping her arms tighter.

“Stay, please?”

“Oh my,” Annisa pretended to swoon, batting her eyelashes, “did her majesty just say please? To little old me. What a blessing that has bestowed upon my unworthy ears!”

“Brat,” Lavinia laughed, a beautiful light sound that Annisa would kill to hear, “you’re not allowed to leave now, punishment for mouthing off to a queen.”

“You love when I mouth off to you.”

“Maybe.”

The smirk caused Annisa to blush, suggesting a far dirtier joke that Lavinia had opted out of saying.

“I wish I could stay here,” Annisa sighed as she looked up at the ceiling of the cabin, the little snowflake fairy lights making her smile, sinking her fingers into unbelievable soft silver hair as she felt Lavinia tilt to head, eyelashes brushing against Annisa’s neck in soft butterfly kisses, “I love being this close to you.”

Lavinia hummed her agreement as Annisa’s fingers scratched at her scalp and wandered through her hair.

“It’s certainly a treat, watching the Ice Queen melt just for me.”

“You’re the only person worth melting for.”

Annisa hated how her mind immediately flashed to a certain snowman character from a Disney movie. She couldn’t control the way the giggles shook her form. Lavinia propped herself up on her arm, trying to look bored but the soft look in her eyes betrayed her horribly as she watched Annisa laugh at a joke she didn’t understand.

“Remind me that I need you to watch a movie with me.”

Lavinia hummed and let her fingertips trace patterns into Annisa’s arm before bringing her hand up to her lips, pressing a soft kiss that caused Annisa to blush.

“Do you really have to leave now?”

“I guess I can spare five minutes.”

Five turned to an hour, but it wasn’t like Annisa was complaining.

[volturiwolf]

The Volturi Princess - A Felix Volturi x fem!Reader Story (part 3)

No of Words: about 5313

Mentions of: Abandonment, Abortion, Anxiety, Blood, Bruises, Coma/Comatosed State, Death Emotional Abuse, Emotional and Physical Pain, Gaslighting, Greece/Greek Language - with translation, Heartbreak, Italian Language - with translation, Manipulation, Murder, Pain, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, Suffering, Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts, Swear Language, Throwing Up/Puking, Witches/Wizards/Witchcraft

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part 1 part 2

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"The Volturi Princess " Tag List (reply if you want to be tagged or removed):

@felixvolturisprincess @singerj2002 @mrtony-stank1 @ikissedthescarsonherskin @alecvolturiswifeforever @hshehdyhd

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Felix’s POV:

We have been traveling for over a year now, Demetri tracking Carlisle and us following behind him. Demetri located him across the Atlantic, so we swam across the ocean to reach him. Almost a year and a half after leaving Volterra, we tracked Carlisle while he was working as a doctor somewhere in the northern United States. He was surprised to see us, but we kept our austere facade to maintain our sovereignty towards him. He welcomed us gladly in his small house.

It was a two-story building, and it smelled of old wood and mold, but I guess that was the best he could do for now. The living conditions around here did not seem to be ideal. Apart from the Volturi and the Egyptian coven, no other vampire lived comfortably, in castles, mansions, or even big houses; most vampires were nomads, traveling around and living by hunting whenever they could. So, Carlisle actually living in a house, even if it looked like this, was way better than living the nomad life.

“Jane, Alec, Demetri, Felix. To what do I owe this pleasure? Can I offer you anything?” Carlisle had always been one of the kindest of our kind, too compassionate for a vampire.

“No, Carlisle, thank you, we’re good. We are on a mission, and we have a few questions for you.” Jane took it up to herself to start the conversation.

“Please, sit down so we can talk.” Carlisle offered us to sit around the table that was in the middle of the ground floor. We each took a seat at the table. “So, may I ask what it is all about? I don’t think I have personally acted in a way to upset the Volturi.”

“No, indirectly, you haven’t.” Jane continued. “We wanted to ask you a few questions regarding (Y/N). We think that you may have heard by now that she has left Volterra.”

“Yes, word came around. I met a few nomads from Europe some time ago, and they told me that (Y/N) left Volterra, probably permanently.”

I tried to suppress a sob that was fighting to leave my throat. Carlisle knew that (Y/N) left, everyone knew that (Y/N) left. They didn’t know she left her mate behind, and they shall never find out that she was my mate. I didn’t even want to think about the possibility of (Y/N) being in danger if anyone found out that we were mates. I had too many targets on my back to risk anything happening to her.

It was my turn to intervene. “Have you seen her? Has she ever come around here?”

Carlisle turned to face me. “I did. Once. She stayed with me for about a year; that was about 6 or 7 years ago. She tracked me through her memories. She has become quite skilled at that.” Demetri and I looked at each other confused. (Y/N) could track as skillfully as Demetri now?

Carlisle continued. “Anyway, she seemed concerned. She told me she had been traveling for quite some time, but she felt like she was missing a piece of herself, of her past. For a few months, she wanted to learn more about me, my job, how I was doing with the whole “animal blood” diet, simple curiosity really. She had been training herself to abstain from human blood, so it was easier for her to go hunt with me. She told me..”

Carlisle turned to look at me now. “She told me about your bond, Felix.” So, she has felt our bond, too! “She told me that she was scared for you, for your safety within the Volturi. She was worried about all of you, but particularly you, Felix. Being her mate means you are basically a target for anyone who wishes to harm (Y/N). She told me she ran away to protect you. As long as no one knew of your bond, you were safe. The traveling and meeting the world was just an extra benefit for her and her gift.”

“Her gift?!” We all exclaimed in unison. (Y/N) never claimed a “gift”, so how could this be possible? Did she lie? Did she even know about her gift?

“Before you say anything, she didn’t even know what her gift was. It is way more complicated than you think. I guess she’d appreciate it if I gave you an idea about it.” Carlisle paused for a few moments. If my heart was beating, I swear it would have stopped by now.

“You know how, for example, Jane, you can induce mental pain, or you, Alec, can restrict anyone’s senses?” The Twins nodded at Carlisle. “Well, (Y/N) can do both, and so much more.” We were kind of shocked. No one has ever had a gift similar to the Twins; that’s why they were in the Volturi. Because they were unique.

“(Y/N)’s gift is copying others’ gifts. That’s why she could also track me; she had copied Demetri’s gift.” Carlisle pointed at Demetri, who looked utterly shocked now.

I would lie if I said I didn’t feel the same way or scared even. I was not scared because of (Y/N); I was scared for (Y/N). This newly-found discovery meant she would be way more important to Aro than we ever thought. He wouldn’t just let her go - not that this was his intention before, but now, she would be even more precious to him and his cause; she would now be the perfect weapon for him to use against other vampires. I had to find her and warn her.

“Do you know where she is now?” My voice came out more stern than I intended it to be.

Carlisle nodded his head slightly. “I may know where she is now. Before she left, she was trying to find out as much as she could about her parents. I assume that was the “missing piece” she was referring to? Anyway, she may be after her parents. I mean they do know her nature better than any of us does. Don’t forget that (Y/N) is half-witch. No one could ever teach her how to be one; only her father could be the one to do so. So, if I stand corrected, she is looking for them. And there’s only one place that (Y/N) has ever linked to her parents.”

“Greece.” Demetri stepped in. Demetri was the only one who could understand (Y/N)’s connection with Greece; it was their birthplace, their origin, their true home.

“Exactly. If you find her parents, you’ll most likely find her. Even if she’s not with them, it will be easier to track her if you have her parents’ assistance.”

We nodded and we stood up. “Thank you for your help, Carlisle. You were most helpful.” Jane spoke for all of us.

“It was my pleasure.” Carlisle led us to the door, but before we left, Jane turned to him one last time. “We think we can trust you that this conversation stays between us.”

“Of course, Jane. Have a safe trip and take care of yourselves.”

“You too.” Alec smiled at Carlisle.

What Carlisle said at the end had me worried for (Y/N). “I hope you find her soon. Her parents never had the best reputation around.” What kind of people was (Y/N)’s family anyway?

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Tracking (Y/N) proved to be way more complicated and debilitating than we thought it would be. We assumed that the closer we were to Greece, the easier it would be for Demetri to pick up her tenor. We were wrong; we were going around blindly, not a clue about (Y/N)’s whereabouts. Even when we finally set our feet on Greek ground, we still didn’t know where to start looking for her. Nobody had a clue where she could be; we didn’t even know her birthplace.

Demetri took it upon him to start his research in a place he knew well enough: Athens. Athens was the capital of Greece’s civilization for many centuries, but, at the time of Demetri’s birth, during the Byzantine times, Constantinople emerged as the center of the Eastern Byzantine Empire, while Rome remained the center of the Western Byzantine Empire.

Athens was not regarded as highly as it used to, during Pericles’ “Golden Century”, as the 5th century BC was known. It still was an important and historical city, but it has lost its title as the “capital” eons ago. The city was taken advantage of by both “allies” and Ottomans and seemed to have lost part of its previous glory. Still, it was beautiful; I may have been quite “old” myself, but I could still admire the history around me.

It reminded of (Y/N)’s stories and books; knowing Ancient Greek history was one of the first things she took an interest in. The fact that she was able to travel to Athens, with or without Aro, quite a few times also developed her fascination regarding the Ancient Greek arts, philosophy, and overall way of living. Of course, it wasn’t easy being a woman then, or ever really, but she was more financially privileged than the average Athenian - vampire wealth had always been an actual thing, and Aro always prided himself to be a “collector” of wealth (and talented vampires for the matter).

We arrived in Greece at a transitional stage; the country has been experiencing a war against the Ottomans for a few years now, and it was evident around the city of Athens. There were many casualties during the war, many damages around the streets, the houses, and there seemed to be a climate of misery and decline.

Yet, the country had recently elected a prime minister, who declared Nafplio, a city in Peloponnese, as Greece’s capital. That was our next stop, as we couldn’t find anything in particular that could indicate (Y/N) being in Athens. Apart from the poor living conditions, the country was experiencing a plague pandemic wave, which killed even more people, but authorities worked hard on containing the cases, and it seemed to have been working.

Still, without a single clue about (Y/N)’s location, the only thing we could do is go around searching for any possible information. We could only travel at night, and hide during the day; Greece, just like Italy, had always been blessed with sunny days, for the majority of a calendar year.

It wasn’t ideal with us being vampires, but Volterra was an ideal strategic location for the Volturi to travel across the vampire and human world, rule, and impose their laws whenever it was needed. Just like always, we now also had to be secretive about our existence.

I thought about how lucky (Y/N) was in that situation; being a non-fully vampire, she didn’t “glow” in the sun like us. She had a more healthy-skin-like glow, a healthy and subtle glow that made me even more attracted to her - if that was even possible. That basically meant that she could technically go anywhere and everywhere; the weather did not affect her, the sun did not affect her.

I started getting frustrated and disappointed. It wasn’t only (Y/N) I had in my mind; apparently, during the years of the Greek Revolution, many vampires, Greek or non-Greek, started secretly fighting to claim territories for themselves.

We knew that it wasn’t part of our duty, but it wouldn’t hurt if we could actually claim Greek land for the Volturi. Having both Italy and Greece under our control could mean more power, more resources, more blood. It only seemed natural; the three Volturi kings were born in Greece, all three of their wives were born in Greece, Demetri and Chelsea were born in Greece. (Y/N) was born in Greece.

Greece could easily become an extension of our territory - Italy was already ours in its entirety - and it would only be the start. It would be easier to control and deal with any possible riots from other covens - the Egyptians and the Romanians in particular. We didn’t fear either of them, but the Romanians have been holding resentment towards the Volturi for a couple thousand years, so anything could be expected from their side at any moment.

I shared my thoughts with the Twins and Demetri. They all agreed that it was a plausible plan; it would show others that the Volturi are still as powerful as they have ever been, and should be feared. Besides, we knew that just the four of us would be able to subjugate any vampire that crossed our paths. With the Twins’ powers, Demetri’s tracking skills, and my strength, it would be impossible for others to resist or challenge us.

We started interrogating any vampire we found wandering or hunting at night; none of them worthy enough to fight us or even gifted enough to join the Volturi. It was quite easy to find the leaders of these “newly-made” covens, or alliances, as they seemed. Because none of them inspired loyalty to each other; none of them was a coven in the sense the Volturi were. They were more like vampires who came together to fight for territory control; I doubt if they would even manage to stay together for one more day. They did not only lack loyalty towards their "leaders", but also discipline, principles, and basic rules of survival and solidarity towards the other members.

It was quite easy to take over any “coven” in Southern Greece, including the island of Crete. We started moving north, taking over the territories of Thessaly and Epirus, something which the Greek humans did not manage to acquire from the Ottomans yet. We were to take over Macedonia and Thrace next, but we were met with an unexpected obstacle.

Every vampire we would interrogate regarding these two territories would say the same thing: none of them knew who owned them, but whoever tried to claim the territories never returned back, dead or alive. The mystery that surrounded the person or people behind the leadership of these areas made their skin crawl; they all refused to “help” us any further, no matter how much Jane, Alec, and I tried, which made me kind of worried, or more like curious, but I didn’t want to show any weakness or let them question my effectiveness.

Every one of them was just a “normal” vampire; we were better, stronger, gifted, and we have proved that we can bring results every single time. No other vampire has ever dared go against us; we wouldn’t allow them to question us now either.

We continued traveling up north, determined to face whoever it was behind the territories there. I didn’t pay attention to the slight pain in my guts as we were traveling through the country, but it was becoming more and more intense as we continued going north.

We didn’t know how we would find the vampires behind this “operation”, so our plan would be to act in any way possible to provoke them into coming out of their “hiding spot”. For a few days, we were rummaging any small village we could find, killing the villagers and draining them of their blood - not a very “Volturi tactic" may I say. We were supposed to hide our existence, not challenge our luck by killing so many people; yet, this was the only way we thought that could possibly lurk the vampires out of their “comfort zone”.

As we were traveling through Macedonia, we came across a rather developed town, compared to the villages we have seen before. The city was surrounded by tall stone walls. There were a few rivers on its western side, forests and mountains on its northeastern side, and swamps and marshes on its southern side. We couldn’t hunt freely here, at least not during daylight; there was no way we would go unnoticed if we started hunting anywhere in the area. We decided to run through the forests, see if there was a place we could stay for a while; if there was a human or more we could feed off of; if there was a sign of the vampires or (Y/N).

During the last few weeks, I’ve been thinking that our mission has been more about expanding our power and influence, and not as much about locating (Y/N). Actually, it felt more like locating (Y/N) was more of an afterthought now. We lost the purpose of our mission; the reason we came together all along.

It wasn’t as if we would actually be directly benefiting by the territories we claimed; we were still working on behalf of the Volturi. We didn’t ask the kings to claim Greek territories; yet, we did, because we felt obliged to consider their own good once again, this time at the expense of finding (Y/N). Once again, we became the victims of the influence they had on us, and we played their game.

“Why are we even doing this?” I yelled frustratedly. My friends turned to look at me.

“What do you mean, Felix?” Jane seemed slightly annoyed. “We’ve come here to claim the territories, to show these savages who the boss is here.”

“No, Jane, they are not savages, we didn’t come here to claim territories, and we don’t have to show them “who is the boss”. They already know that the Volturi rule the vampire world. No. No. We came here to search for (Y/N). Not to “claim territories”. Not to “show them”. We came here for (Y/N). We..We lost our purpose. We lost the true meaning of our mission. We just started claiming the land for the Volturi, for Aro. We..We forgot about her.”

My eyes were stinking with venom. I felt weak, I felt as if I betrayed her. I promised to myself that I would bring her back home, that I would protect her. It’s been so long and we still haven’t found her. We just kept wasting time on things that shouldn’t matter to us. We should not care about expanding our influence, our territory, our power. We should care about bringing the Princess back.

Jane lowered her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, Felix. I didn’t know you felt this way. I have to admit it though; we did lose track of time and we forgot about the actual purpose of this mission. We once again forgot that (Y/N) has always been way more important than any power in the world. I’m sorry. We all are. I promised you we’ll start searching for her right away, okay?”

I nodded affirmatively. We had to find (Y/N) as soon as possible. We were not only running out of time but also out of hope that (Y/N) was in Greece or anywhere else, that she was alive. We got so distracted by our conversation that we didn’t notice we were being watched until we all started screaming in pain. I fell on my knees, the pain on the back of my head unbearable, and that’s when I blacked out.

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I didn’t know how much time passed being unconscious. It felt like a new sensation to me; being a bit over 2000 years old, I haven’t lost my senses once - except for the times Alec liked to play games on me. I didn’t feel like myself; it didn’t feel right. I didn’t like being restricted of my senses, especially now, especially here, in an unknown place. My mind was blurry and I couldn’t see anything distinct around me; I couldn’t see almost anything. I tried to move my hands around but I couldn’t as if the tightest rope in the world was holding me in place.

“No need to fight, sweetheart.” I heard a woman’s voice. “There is no way to escape.”

“Who are you? Why am I here? Where are the others?”

“Felix? Is that you?” I heard Demetri’s voice on my right.

“Demetri? Is that you? Where are Jane and Alec?”

“I am here.” I heard Alec’s voice on my left.

“Me too." Jane replied.

“Alexandre, please, I cannot start with this again.”

Suddenly, I could see again. I was still physically restricted, but my eyes could see them crystal clear and my mind was in order once again. The woman in front of me was very imposing, though of average size. Her long, curly hair framed her face beautifully and her piercing red eyes were piercing through my soul. The man standing next to her was only a few centimeters taller; he had short, straight hair, and his eyes were looking between the four of us sternly. Who were they even? Why were we even here? Why us? As if she read my mind, a woman spoke to me.

“Oh, deary. We’re not going to tell you who we are. But you are going to tell us what you, Volturi guards, are doing in our territory!”

“How do you know who we are?” I exclaimed. Of course, everyone knew the Volturi as the authority of the vampire world, but not all vampires around here have ever met us specifically, or any other member of the coven for the matter.

“Your crest, dear. I have known that crest for far too long. Way before you were even born. I see that dear Aro never changed it. He does like to remain in his same, old ways after all. Never changing, never moving forward, still imposing his “laws”, I’m assuming?” The woman seemed to know way far about the Volturi and Aro. She became a danger for our coven, from the moment she and the man abducted us. She should have never done that; they both would be punished for their actions.

“Dear, I won’t get punished..for anything. You, on the other hand, are in a pretty difficult situation. You see, my husband and I are not going to let you get away until you tell us why you are here.”

“Pain.” I heard Jane saying. The woman turned to look at her but she didn’t even flinch. I heard Jane screaming in return.

“Oh, sweetheart. Your powers won’t work on either of us. You see, I am a shield, so don’t even try to hurt us. On the contrary, WE can hurt you just as much, if not more.” The woman smiled evilly, while Jane was writhing in pain.

“Please, stop hurting my sister.” Alec pleaded, unable to use his gift against the couple.

“So, you are the “Terror Twins”. Alec and Jane, I see.” The woman knew their nickname? “Oh, yes, I do, dear.” She turned to look at me. “You see, I was once part of the Volturi. Technically, still am. However, I left, way before any of you joined the coven. To put it into perspective, I was there when Didyme lived but I left way before she was killed. Dear Marcus has never been the same ever since. I still feel somewhat of a connection to the coven, though I am able to make my own decisions because I managed to escape them. We were actually passing by Volterra a few times. I wonder how you never noticed us, though our powers would practically make us mentally invisible from Demetri, over here, or any other vampire, really.”

She knew Demetri, too?

“Felix, dear, I know all of you and about you. You see, my dear daughter has a special connection with all of you, a kind of friendship neither my husband, nor I quite understand. It wasn’t easy for her to keep her memories secret; though she is an amazing shield - which makes me so proud, she is kind of “vulnerable” when she is sleeping. And my husband’s magic is quite strong and easy to penetrate her mind and memories when she does eventually sleep.”

Her daughter? Could that be…?

“WHERE IS SHE?” The question slipped out of my mouth without even thinking about it first.

My anger could not be controlled right now. I was pushing myself to my limits to break my fetters, to no avail. Were that woman and that man (Y/N)’s parents? I started making some connections here and there; they looked similar to (Y/N), though so different at the same time. Their immortality, their red eyes, their confidence, and their aggression did not remind me of (Y/N). She had a pure face, a face of kindness, she was not like them.

“You think so? Alexandre, can you please call (Y/N), agapi mou?” The woman turned to the man, and the man started moving his fingers in front of him, creating some sort of a wave around him.

Within a few seconds, the door burst open and the first thing I saw was a red silky fabric flowing around the air. When the fabric settled down slowly, I saw her for the first time after so long. She has changed..a lot. Her (Y/E/C) eyes were replaced by piercing red ones, with a slight hint of (Y/E/C) around the pupils. Her eyes apathetic and stern; her facial features more defined; her hair reached a little below her shoulders, straight and shiny, like her father’s. She still looked as beautiful as ever.

She stared at us, focusing her eyes mostly on me. Her heartbeat sounded steady and strong. I was relieved; she was still human, they had not turned her fully vampire yet. She took a few steps farther into the house, her feet bare but surprisingly clean, no dirt, no grass had stained them. She stood right beside the woman, who I now knew was her mother and Aro’s daughter.

“What are they doing here?” Her voice came out stern, yet it was music to my ears.

I missed her voice so much. I missed her so much. Our mate bond, weakened by the distance and time spent apart, slowly started forming again. I felt it; I felt my existence becoming meaningful again. I felt my breath hitching in my throat, her presence provoking so many different feelings and emotions inside me. However, she still seemed cold and distant, and I couldn’t quite read her face. Did she not feel the same? Has she forgotten me? Does she hate me now?

I saw her gaze getting softer, even compassionate? She approached me and bent down slightly, placing her left hand carefully on my right cheek. She stared deeply into my eyes and I closed mine, leaning on her touch. It was the purest moment I have experienced in my 2000 years of life.

I opened my eyes and stared at her. I saw golden flakes scattered in between the red in her eyes. Once again, she took my breath away. It felt as if I fell in love with her all over again, a unique feeling of refreshment. We were lost in our own little world. She smiled slightly at me, the first time she did after such a long time.

“Enough! (Y/N) get away from him, now!” (Y/N) was forcefully removed away from me by her mother. She was looking at me pleadingly and then turned to look at her parents with such hatred. I’ve never seen her like this ever again, not even with Aro.

“YOU. WILL. NOT. TELL. ME. WHAT. TO. DO!” If looks could kill, (Y/N)’s parents would be dead by now. Her hands started lighting up, bright purple flames rising up. She was trying to intimidate her parents, but neither of them looked concerned in the slightest. She turned to us and with a dance-like move of her hand, we were finally freed of our fetters.

It was her father’s turn to speak. “(Y/N), let’s take this outside.” With a jerking motion of his hand, we all found ourselves, outside, in their house’s front yard.

“They’ve come to take you back to Volterra, back to Aro! Don’t you see it? They don’t care about you! They just want to please their master.” The words came bitter out of her mouth. She had a clear resentment towards the Volturi. “I will not let them take you away from me! Not again!”

“I know, mother, I’ve read their minds, too. Yet, I don’t see why YOU seem to think that you can make the decisions for me. I am my own self. I can make decisions for myself. And I get to choose what I do with my life.” (Y/N)’s voice was certain, powerful, in control. “They are not bad people, mother. They just have to follow orders, just like you followed Aro’s orders, just like I followed yours. That’s not going to happen anymore. I am taking control of my life!”

The sweet, little girl I got to see my whole life was becoming a strong, powerful woman right in front of my eyes. She was radiating power; she was taking control of her life. She was..my everything. She was becoming independent, her own self. To say I was proud of her, would be an understatement. She has always been special, but this newly-found power has clearly given her way more confidence and trust in herself.

She would finally be able to rule the Volturi. If she decided to come back to Volterra, she could definitely take over the coven. No one would be able to resist her or her gift. My thoughts were quickly interrupted when her dad started shouting in Greek.

Demetri, who was standing right next to me, saw the look of total confusion in my eyes. “I’ll translate for you.” I nodded at him. “So, her father says: Enough with this nonsense, (Y/N). Your place is here, with us. You owe us; we taught you what you needed to know about your magic. We taught you how to use it, how to develop it. You didn’t know enough to defend yourself back then.”

“Now, (Y/N) says: I don’t owe you anything. Yes, you did teach me how to use my magic, which I inherited from you. But, you gave me away to Aro. You couldn’t defend me or yourselves against him. You just offered me to him, as if I was a present for his birthday or something.”

“Now, her mother says: You, at least, owe it to yourself to get away from these tyrants. You know they don’t deserve you, so why are you still defending him? It’s that man, isn’t it? Now, (Y/N) says: That man has a name. Now, her mom says: You know, his name means “lucky”, "happy" in Greek. Yet, he hasn’t been that lucky or happy at all, has he? We read his mind, (Y/N), he’s not worthy of you.”

“Now, (Y/N) says: Guess what? I have also read his mind, and I have also read the two of you, as well. Don’t you think that it is only you who can read my mind while I’m sleeping! I’ve been reading your minds any chance I get! I know how you’ve been planning to use me, as a weapon against the Volturi! Guess again! I’m not going to let you manipulate me anymore! And that man deserves EVERYTHING in this world!”

“ENOUGH!” Her father shouted and threw a dark red glowing sphere, hitting (Y/N) and knocking her on the ground. My heart dropped at the sight, but she quickly stood up and gathered so much energy in her own hands, attacking her father with a powerful hit.

He got wounded, his face slightly cracked from his forehead to his jaw, yet he didn’t give up. He was about to attack her once again when his wife stopped him. She was looking at me and nodded to her husband. I heard (Y/N) screaming, but I didn’t make out what she was saying, as I started screaming myself and felt myself getting tossed in the air. Then, everything went black once again.

[yan-genshin]

a/n: hello to the fellow twst people who came here from my twst blog welcome to my secondary brainrot

warnings: general yandere themes, non consensual drug use, some spoilers for kaeya’s backstory 

♥︎ kaeya alberich

kaeya is obsessive in an almost paranoid way, which is almost surprising seeing how laid back and relaxed he seems to act most of the times. despite his seemingly sociable attitude, kaeya is similar to his brother diluc in that he doesn’t get close to others because he’s scared to lose them (or scared that being associated with him could bring them harm)

maybe that’s why it comes as a shock to the city to hear that the cavalry captain has gotten together with the mysterious honorary knight- everyone knows kaeya flirts and gets around, but nobody’s ever seen him settle down like that

it’s... almost cute, at first. he’s far from touch starved, but emotionally? kaeya seems to seek their attention and warmth almost selfishly, dragging them around on “missions” that are mostly work he’s supposed to be doing alone to eat up their time, interrupting their own tasks and missions just because he wants to see them

“aw, are you mad at me?” he’s got that playful tilt to his voice, the one he always uses when he’s trying to make things go his way or he’s trying to egg someone on. by now, the outlander isn’t sure which effect he’s trying to have on them; this is the third time kaeya swooped in and interrupted their daily commissions for the adventurer’s guild, putting them behind schedule and messing up their plans for the day. the spot in their bag where they would have put away the cecilias they had meant to gather in the evening but didn’t get the chance to just makes them more upset- but kaeya’s sudden embrace makes them drop that train of thought. “now, now, let’s not get angry... i’m really trying my best here to show you i love you- don’t you love me, too?”

kaeya seems to think the ends justify the means- the path to the best ending isn’t necessarily a pretty one, or so he says. he’s well aware of when he starts to use emotional manipulation to pressure his dear traveler into doing as he wants, he’s entirely aware of how he’s monopolizing their time

after all, the easiest way to get them to be as attached to him as he is to them is to break them down and build them back up as he sees fit. it’s cruel, it’s bad, but kaeya is the type of man who relishes in the looks of fear and doubt in other’s faces, and the type of lover who relishes in gently comforting the traveler as they cry when he’s the one who caused their tears in the first place

most of it is just to make them depend on him. oh, don’t get him wrong- kaeya’s well aware that the traveler can fend off for themselves. he’s seen how they fight, how they seem to move with battle experience that should be born from years and years of training despite their youthful appearance. but that strength is also what gives them freedom- and kaeya is not barbatos, and he doesn’t plan on giving them such thing

“can i go to springvale today...?” kaeya almost smirks. who would have thought the powerful hero of mondstadt- the outlander who swept in, who saved the city from dvalin, who once challenged boreas for training- could be reduced to such a meek creature that felt the need to ask for permission to simply wander outside the city’s walls? to outsiders, it might seem like it was just the traveler ‘settling into the relationship’, but he knew better than that. days of subtle manipulation, of using just the right words to drive them to tears, of comforting them while choosing his words oh-so-carefully were the hard work that was showing off now; a hero slowly being reduced to a docile partner

he doesn’t want to be abandoned. kaeya fears loneliness more than anything else, something he keeps hidden deep inside of him- vague memories of being abandoned on a rainy night, of his adoptive father’s passing haunt him, the ever stubborn feeling of being unwanted despite having so many swooning for him- it’s as if every little piece of the travler’s free spirited soul he chips away is a reassurance, a guarantee to him that they’re his and they’re going to stay

there’s no real limit to what he’ll do. he’s always careful enough to keep them right in his palm; even when the relationship has gone far from just a toxic relationship and fallen off into something worse, it’s as if they’re far too deep do climb out. it’s not easy to leave an abusive relationship, and kaeya is always one step ahead in making sure it’s damn near impossible, presenting himself as the only solace for the traveler

it’s almost an art how he’s the one making their life hell and also the one who comforts them and gives them a sanctuarium to “heal” and “feel loved”. whether it’s him destroying their hopes of seeing all archons, claiming it’s simply impossible, or implying that if their sibling truly were alive, word of them would have probably gotten to mondstadt already, kaeya is always careful enough so that his darling’s anger and grief doesn’t fall quite on him, so that he can be the one to gently comfort them and hold them in his arms

“shh, it’s okay darling, you couldn’t have known anything so terrible would happen.” he holds his lover’s shaking body as they cry into his shoulder, hands rubbing soothing circles into their back. despite this, the look in his face isn’t one of a man consoling his lover, but rather a smug smirk. they heave another sob: oh, they have all the rights in the world to be sad. how tragic that the particular knight who’d become their friend had to pass away so brutally- they’d simply asked him if he could gather some lampgrass for them, an innocent request, and he’d ran into a ruin guard. it’s your fault for asking him to go seemed to be the only thought that ran through their head, and kaeya, despite all his comforting, didn’t seem to downright deny it. after all, they didn’t need to know the poor knight happened to ask kaeya where he could find the lampgrass, they didn’t need to know kaeya just so happened to mark a location on his map where it just so happened he knew a ruini guard lurked nearby. kaeya may be a knight, but he’s never been to righteous- it’s not as if he directly spilled someone’s blood just because they got too close to his lover, right? suppressing a chuckle at the thought, he made sure his voice was still in a comforting tone as he spoke, “next time, just ask me for any favours. no need to go and talk to others and have this tragedy repeat, right?”

it’s almost laughable, really, how much kaeya seems to circle around and pull strings just so he can make everything work the way he wants. realistically, it’d be just so much easier to just chain down the traveler, to just downright get rid of paimon instead of constantly bribing her with food or sending her off with amber to the point where the little fae seems to almost forget about the traveler- but kaeya needs to be loved. he doesn’t need the love to be healthy or to be real, it’s ok if it’s born out of manipulation and dependence. but all he does, he needs it to work into driving the traveler into a dark enough headspace wherein he is the only light in their life

... but that said, he’d rather have the traveler be his and lose their love than lose the traveler’s love and also lose them. ideally, they won’t abandon him because they love him (because he’s broken them, because he destroyed the hero of mondstadt and made them into a docile and codependent pet, because he’s destroyed their world and shown himself as the only alternative) but if needed, he’ll make it so they won’t abandon him because they can’t

after all, kaeya loves the sight of fear in their eyes. if they’re so eager to leave him, then perhaps he’ll just continue to indulge in their tears and their begging- this time wholy embracing the fact he’s the one that caused such things. it’s as easy as sleeping potions mixed in their foods to keep them pliable and docile, as easy as a chain keeping them locked to a basement; a treatment so hellish it makes them crave for the toxic hellhole of a relationship he offered before

“aw, are you uncomfortable? it’s too cold down here, isn’t it? poor thing. should i get you a blanket? do you think you deserve a blanket? if you keep acting good, i might get you one tomorrow.” it’s torture, the way he so gently traces their cheek, the way he looks at them with so much warmth in his eyes despite him being the one who’s got them chained up to a fucking basement. their brain screams at them to jerk away, to not give him the satisfaction of accepting his touch, but they’re cold, and despite being a cryo user, kaeya’s touch is so warm that they almost unconsciously lean into it. he laughs, the noise echoing in the almost empty basement; all that’s down here is a ratty old cot, a makeshift bathroom, and the heavy metal chain attaching them to one of the thick wooden support beams on the wall. cold nights like these almost make them miss being back in kaeya’s room, huddled in with him after he’s fallen asleep- probably after offering some comfort after driving them to a breakdown some hours earlier. but that’s long gone, now replaced with kaeya’s almost sadistic glee in keeping them down here, in seeing how the already broken traveler just shatters into a shell of their former self, how even now when he’s being outwardly antagonistic they’re starting to still try to find comfort in him: truly turned into a weak, docile, dependent little thing. 

[norahastuff]

Another thing about 5x16 that I didn’t mention in the last post, is the romanticisation of Mary. S12 does a lot of work in tearing down the perfect sainted mother image, but the seeds of that are there in this episode. I mean the ideal of Mary hasn’t been torn down yet (though finding out she was a hunter who made a demon deal did put a dent in it) but one thing that is addressed is the myth that John and Mary were this perfect, perpetually happy couple. 

SAM: Dad always said they had the perfect marriage.

DEAN: It wasn’t perfect until after she died

And neither was Mary. The things Dean thinks he knew about her, how much of that was his own unreliable memories and how much was John painting a sanitised picture of the woman that she was? I mean finding Mary’s killer became John’s crusade so it’s no wonder that he turned her into a saint, which she really wasn’t. Believing that was part of what messed up Dean’s perceptions of relationships and what he expected of the people he loved, lest we forget that one leviathan pretending to be Dean’s astute observation that he “doesn't have relationships. No, he has applications for sainthood.”

This was in s7, and was a big part of why the most recent tragedy he’s just gone through, Cas/Godstiel/Leviathans, has shaken him so much. Sure losing Cas hurt, but it’s also the guilt at not being able to see what was really going on with him and not being able to save him that’s eating away at him. And why couldn’t he see that? Because Cas occupied a certain role in his mind. Despite their fighting and feeling like he was being abandoned by Cas throughout s6, ultimately Cas was still the larger than life badass hero who turned his back on heaven and everything he believed in to fight by Dean’s side and help save the world, and when Cas was knocked off that pedestal Dean had him on, it shook his worldview so profoundly but was ultimately a good thing, because it laid the foundation for Dean being able to see Cas a person. A flawed real person who was just trying to do his best, and that was what led to them being able to develop a very different kind of relationship, one that was on much more equal footing than what they’d had before. 

The same is true for Dean and Mary in s12. That’s why Amara brings Mary back to life. In Dean’s eyes Mary has been this sainted figure, this martyr and yet also someone whose death took away his innocence and forced him to give up on his own needs and happiness because he had to step into her role after she died. So there was always this weird dichotomy of “she’s perfect and good and I will never live up to that kind of perfection” as well as “I’m angry at her for leaving me to pick up all the pieces and having to give up my sense of self” which undoubtedly led to even more confusion for Dean, because how do you resent a saint? Honestly Bobo did such a good job writing that Dean and Mary confrontation in 12x22, it was an arc that had to pay off years of character development and managed to do it so well, so kudos to him on that. 

Mary’s real and not perfect, and yet Dean loves her anyway. It means that unattainable goal of perfection Dean always hated himself for not being able to reach...well maybe he didn’t have to. Things weren’t black and white, people weren’t just saints or sinners.

Also the whole “Sam thinking Mary and John had the perfect marriage because of stories he’d heard” thing  brings up the of idea of preserving your kids innocence out of love. Sam has a lot of different stories and ideas about his childhood and history, some told by John and never corrected by Dean, because Dean wanted Sam to be a kid as long as he could and if he could protect Sam in any way, he would. 

It’s something that comes up over and over again, and not just with Sam and Dean. How about in 10x20 when Dean sees how hurt and upset Claire still is with Cas? Dean defends him and tells her because of her father’s sacrifice “Cas was able to save the world. The world.” That’s not the whole truth, Cas definitely helped but Dean made it sound like he did it alone, because that’s how he wanted Claire to see Cas, and to understand him (also the original line was that Cas helped save the world, but Jensen being Jensen knew Dean would talk Cas up more than that.) 

I was going to say Sam does it too with Jack, but that one is a little complicated. When he’s trying to bond with Jack by telling him about his own struggles with morality and demon blood, he talks about how his family, Dean and Cas, were there for him. I mean arguably that’s not true at all if you take s4 in to account, Cas was being brainwashed by heaven into actually encouraging Sam’s addiction and descent, but then he is there for Sam in s5. But Sam’s not about to tell Jack about how Cas was a flawed person with a complicated history. In fact at the start of s13, Cas is essentially in the s1 Mary role. He’s the perfect untouchable martyr, his death broke Dean (and also led to Dean whitewashing a lot of the reasons behind what actually caused Cas’ death) and left a profound hole in Jack’s life. 

But luckily this wasn’t s1. Cas didn’t stay the idealised martyr, he was brought back. 

Oh and Cas has done the “whitewash the truth for your son” thing multiple times the most significant is the one I remember a lot of people were angry about back when 14x02 aired, in which Cas tells Jack about when he was human  “I had Sam and Dean. But I had something else that was extremely helpful. I had myself. Just the basic me, as, uh...as Dean would say, without all the bells and whistles.”

Some people were annoyed that Cas said he had Sam and Dean, because Dean had kicked him out of the bunker and he was left to fend for himself. Thing is there were extenuating circumstances which Dean repeatedly apologised for and which Cas understood and forgave. Besides he did have them. Dean tried to protect him from the angels. He told him to go to the bunker. They saved him from the reaper. Dean saved him from the angel who tried to kill him. So sure, despite all that, Dean did leave him out on his own but again, Cas isn’t going to reveal all that messy hurtful history to Jack. He wants to protect him and for him to see the best in Dean. It’s what parents do.

Thing is, unlike John, Sam, Dean and Cas didn’t tell any of those somewhat edited truths in order to get Claire or Jack to join their revenge missions or enable their crusades, they did it because that’s what they knew was best for them in that moment and because it’s what they needed to hear. 

Anyway, the point is that Dark Side of the Moon is such a crucial episode for Sam, Dean and Cas and I love how much of the characters’ core traits and struggles it manages to address in such a nuanced way (see also Sam and Dean’s relationship as well as Dean and Cas’ individual relationships with faith as well as their joint relationship with it.)

[tossawary]

Chapter 24: “Seeing is Believing” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” random favorite lines and commentary. Not a full list or full commentary, but longer commentary than usual to talk about quest construction. 

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AN: This was... a weird chapter to write. When I started outlining, I had... the conversation with Shen Qingqiu planned... the conversation with Shen Yuan planned... the fact that SQH, SY, LQG, and LFL was the quest party... and the fact that they get the Eye at the end of it. That was everything. 

The entire rest of this chapter came together FRIDAY LAST WEEK. 

Huan Hua Palace wasn’t going to be there. The Weeper didn’t exist. The Eye or its previous owner wasn’t at all connected to the Garden Master. The Shadow Cave Wolf Spiders didn’t exist. The murder plant didn’t exist. The mysterious monster showing up at the end wasn’t originally planned either. 

I mean, I had a lot of pre-existing plot threads to tie in and weave with, but ohhh boy! Picture someone lying facedown on a floor like, “I forgot to plan the contents of the super important quest...” 

I was originally going to have the Eye quest a lot simpler, but given the weight “Death of the Author” had when I finally reached this part of the story, that wasn’t really going to do! It had to be bigger than that! It needed oomph! This also felt like a good opportunity to really establish the new SQH-SY dynamic. To explore SY fumbling to find a place in this world without strict character role, especially in relation to settled and well-supported SQH. 

- 

“One attempts to remain dignified,” Shen Qingqiu agrees. “As there is little point in kicking and screaming about how such ignobility isn’t fair.”

“Ha! Is there ever?”

“Not in my experience.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely not cute when I do it,” Shang Qinghua jokes.

Shen Qingqiu’s lips actually twitch at that.

Success?!

- 

AN: I wasn’t going into this fic with the intention of writing any Shang Qinghua and Original Shen Qingqiu almost friendship! But it started developing and it seemed a shame not to explore Shang Qinghua developing a real relationship with Shen Qingqiu (though not a particularly close one) when the man is suppose to be the scum villain (and the readers know that the man might get replaced by Shen Yuan). 

I can see myself writing more Shang Qinghua and Original Shen Qingqiu content in the future. Someone dropped a particularly nice prompt for them in my inbox that I’m looking forward to exploring at some point. 

(I mean, not to say that Shang Qinghua has a type, but Shang Qinghua has a type and it’s handsome, deadly, intimidating, frosty men with a villainous character design and trust/abandonment and communication issues. I could make it work.)

- 

“Ah, well, two ‘ideal’ situations come to mind: severing the personal relationship for good… or, ah, talking about how to do better and trying that. You don’t have to forget or even forgive if you don’t want to! But, ah… there’s got to be a difference between totally swallowing your anger and cutting ties forever, right?” Shang Qinghua says awkwardly. “If there’s… ever going to be anything good afterwards…”

Shen Qingqiu stares at him for a sweat-inducing length of time.

 “Ah, fuck,” Shang Qinghua thinks.

“Sorry,” he says. “Ahhh, I’m just… thinking about something someone told me… in… in regards to some of my own problems. Never mind! Never mind!”

- 

AN: Luo Jiahui really is out here making Moshang and Qijiu get their fucking act together just by setting a better example. 

- 

“Shizun, my apologies for the interruption, but I came to ask Shizun if he would be willing to join our music lesson today? The disciples have missed his playing and are eager to present their improvements.”

“...Very well, unless anyone here would disagree…?” Shen Qingqiu looks directly at the Qian Cao Peak cultivator, as though daring her to object and die.

“It’s an excellent suggestion!” the Qian Cao Peak cultivator says quickly.

The young woman smiles. “And perhaps Shizun could sit in on the calligraphy lesson afterwards? In order to offer his opinion on my progress as a teacher?”

“Fishing for compliments is unbecoming,” Shen Qingqiu says dryly.

“Wait, what?” Shang Qinghua thinks.

- 

AN: So, this has all been happening in the background, but Shen Qingqiu accepted this House of Rejuvenation woman onto his Peak about... 6-ish years ago now? This is kind of meant to parallel Shang Qinghua’s once-secret relationship with Luo Jiahui. 

Shang Qinghua was out here trying to be a better person and Shen Qingqiu noticed; now Shen Qingqiu has his own positive (platonic) relationship with a nameless background character who was meant to die for plot reasons. What a thing, huh? If the story was saved because Shang Qinghua started a domino effect of saving random people who went on to change things? 

- 

After all, as Shang Qinghua said to the kid, besides Peerless Cucumber’s apparent talent for cultivation, he knows that his fellow transmigrator has three very important skills that will serve him well on An Ding Peak! 1) An encyclopedia knowledge for even seemingly pointless bullshit (which is kind of flattering, honestly). 2) The willingness to fight total strangers over seemingly pointless bullshit. And 3) a sharp enough tongue to win.

Peerless Cucumber didn’t find these points as funny as Shang Qinghua did.

- 

AN: Shen Yuan was always going to end up on An Ding Peak. I thought about sending him to Qing Jing or Qian Cao or Qiong Ding... or any other Peak... but that would take him too far away from Shang Qinghua to really explore their relationship and to move him around conveniently in the story. And SY sticking to An Ding seemed to best illustrate the fact that SY is lost and doesn’t know what to do except cling to SQH. 

- 

“It’s not much, sure, but it’s yours,” Shang Qinghua says finally. “You’ll be joining the talisman classes soon, so don’t try anything from a book and then need to request some home repairs.”

Peerless Cucumber nods and puts his stack of manuals down on the table.

“How’s your tutorial mission going?”

“Fine,” the kid says shortly. “Have you found anything for the other one yet?”

“Ah, not yet.”

- 

AN: “Are you winning, son?” meme energy here. 

- 

Ah, now Shang Qinghua recognizes his fellow transmigrator’s expression! That’s the same stunned expression one of his Huan Hua not-disciples, Yu Chaonan, made upon meeting the Bai Zhan Peak War God for the first time. Shang Qinghua assumes that Peerless Cucumber was expecting a man who looked more like a musclebound giant and less like a pop idol (if one with amazingly muscular arms), which is a super common and never-not-funny misconception people have about Liu Qingge.  

“Brother of one of the most beautiful women in this world, bro,” Shang Qinghua reminds his fellow transmigrator, amused. Aha! Now Peerless Cucumber’s vehement disinterest in the harem stuff is making even more sense than before!

Shang Qinghua’s assumption gets 100% confirmed when it comes time for Peerless Cucumber to fly with Liu Qingge for the next leg of the journey. The other transmigrator is so embarrassed and awkward about it that Shang Qinghua’s super direct brother-in-law asks if the young man is alright.

- 

AN: This was so fun to write. Shang Qinghua really can use the Liu siblings to gauge people’s sexual/romantic orientation. 

- 

The map (or rather, the copy Shang Qinghua made of the delicate original map) takes them to a green and grey landscape of leafy trees crawling over a wide network of tall cliffs and deep gorges. Gurgling rivers cut through twisting rock formations. Shang Qinghua can’t see any of these rivers on the map. Or these deathly drop ravines. From the outside, the whole thing looks like a natural maze (holy shit, there could be so many monsters and death-traps in there!), and Shang Qinghua would know those golden robes flying low over the hanging trees anywhere.

“Huan Hua,” Liu Qingge mutters.

“Do you think they’re looking for what we’re looking for?” Luo Fanli asks.

“That’s usually how it goes,” Peerless Cucumber says, before Shang Qinghua can.

- 

AN: I came up with the skeleton idea first. Then I was like... “I should give it three eyes.” And then I was like... “But who IS this dead author? A god? A spirit? What grander implications am I spinning here?” 

And THEN I remembered that I had some ambiguous powerful being force the Garden Master into exile due to a flood. This was because, in the Epic of Gilgamesh, the immortal man Gilgamesh meets in the abyss is the survivor of a great flood. So I was like, “Reduce! Re-use! Recycle! There’s my skeleton!” 

So I wanted to relate the skeleton to water because of the flood angle. Water as a symbol of cleansing/reincarnation is a big thing throughout many cultures. I can’t remember exactly how the crying aspect came up, but I knew there was going to be water in the temple now, so at some point my brain like was, “Bro, this skeleton should totally be crying because mythology vibes.” 

So I built the surrounding land off the idea that there was water flowing from or around this temple. At this point, I had decided that Huan Hua Palace should also be looking for this artifact, so I had to come up with a way to hide the temple, yet have a way for SQH’s party to track it down. 

- 

The damage to the doors is worse: someone once upon a time collapsed a part of the cliff face around the entrance, essentially leaving only the top fourth of the utterly smashed stone doors visible. It’s a wall now and has been for ages. It looks like it would take days to dig through the rubble. Someone has even super helpfully carved, “These doors will never open again,” just above the wreck.

“Guess we’ll have to go in as intruders rather than guests!” Luo Fanli says.

“What would be welcoming us inside a lost temple exactly?” Shang Qinghua asks vaguely, inwardly cursing the fact that explosive mining techniques will definitely attract the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators’ attention and also probably collapse the whole cliff on them.

“We only have to clear a passage for us, not the whole door,” Peerless Cucumber says optimistically. “Is there a special technique for this kind of thing?”

“Aha, not really.”

“Oh.”

“Why don’t we just keep following the water?” Luo Fanli says.

“...How so?” Shang Qinghua asks.

“Some of those waterfalls could be passages inside,” Liu Qingge explains, because he and the little sister-in-law apparently share the same brain. He’s already eyeing the waterfall wearing down the giant statue on the left.

- 

AN: Temples in quests need to have traps and obstacles and monsters! Well, not ALL of the did, but this one did. I based the obstacles they faced as much as I could around the whole “Death of the Author” theme, while using this whole quest to explore Shen Yuan, Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua, Shang Qinghua and Liu Qingge and Luo Fanli, and so on. 

The idea here with the door is that the “author” is not going to let them inside the temple to take the interpretation of the narrative (the Eye) for themselves. The story is over (the temple is closed for business)! The author is dead! If they want to get inside, they have to break inside or slip inside as intruders. 

This also creates a convenient obstacle to hold up the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators so that our party can be nearly caught later! And shows off Shang Qinghua, Liu Qingge, and Luo Fanli’s twisty lines of thinking. 

- 

Luo Fanli is holding the light and Shang Qinghua passes the other transmigrator to her, while accepting Liu Qingge’s hand for help getting out of the water.

“Ahhh, that was fun,” Shang Qinghua mutters.

Then he notices that Liu Qingge has the Cheng Luan sword out and ready. Shang Qinghua looks through the surrounding darkness, but all he can see are columns and water. For a moment, he thinks he sees something, a prowling shadow at the other end of the cavernous room, but he wipes the water out of his eyes and it’s gone.

- 

AN: The water in Shang Qinghua’s eyes briefly lets him see a flash of the invisible monsters who show up later! It helps up the tension. 

- 

Another low growl rips through the darkness and Peerless Cucumber shuffles a little closer to Shang Qinghua. Because that sounded really fucking close and yet Shang Qinghua still can’t see the thing that’s making that sound.

He doesn’t see Liu Qingge lunge at him either. He only feels his brother-in-law shove him into Peerless Cucumber, knocking them into the water, out of the way of something that howls when Liu Qingge slashes at it with his sword. Shang Qinghua rolls off Peerless Cucumber and looks up just in time to see dark blood splatter across the watery floor. Liu Qingge pursues the attacker with a second slash, but only seems to meet thin air this time.

“It’s invisible!” Luo Fanli cries. “Fuck!”

“Behind you!” Liu Qingge snaps, and spins to slash at the thin air beside him. Dark droplets of blood hit the water again and something hisses at him.

Luo Fanli whirls and slashes, searching for an opponent.

“They’re reflected in the water!” Liu Qingge yells at her, standing guard over Shang Qinghua as he gets to his feet again. “Listen for their footsteps and vocalizations! Feel the demonic energy and air displacement!”

- 

AN: I got this from a list of Dungeons and Dragons puzzles. The idea is that there’s some puzzle that must be solved, but the truth of the room can only be seen in the reflection of the nearby water (or mirror or whatever). 

Which felt fitting for a “Death of the Author” quest! Whatever an author’s intentions, the story is what they actually wrote, so the audience interprets a text without the context of the author’s insight. The truth (of the story) is in the reflection (audience interpretation)! It felt like a fun idea. 

It also allows Shen Yuan to actually contribute to the quest via monster lore and bring up his impaired vision problem. And to confront Shen Yuan with the reality of this world. And to show off Luo Fanli’s fighting skills. And to show off LIU QINGGE’S legendary fighting skills, instincts as a warrior who fights many dangerous beasts, and the fact that he’s clever and observant! 

Liu Qingge is good at what he does! And this is what he does! 

- 

Someone has… angrily… or desperately… carved a lopsided message into the wall.

 “‘If I go blind, so does the world,’” Peerless Cucumber reads.

“...That’s probably not good,” Shang Qinghua says.

“Nooo…” Fanli agrees.

The messages continue as they climb, carved into the walls, the ceilings, the floors. Most of it is illegible. Some of it is just nonsense. Some of it looks like the same kind of historical records carved into the broken tablets. Some of it looks like someone attacked the walls after reading what was written there. There are deep gouges in the walls and cracked marks that would match a giant’s hands.

 “‘The water cleans the lies,’” Peerless Cucumber reads. “‘I am the only one who can see.’ ‘Lies everywhere, lies everywhere, lies everywhere.’ ‘The water cleans the evil.’ ‘I do not have enough tears.’ ‘Everything is nothing now. Everything in vain.’”

“You really don’t need to read them!” Shang Qinghua tells the kid. “It’s fine. It's totally fine.”

- 

AN: This is mostly here to up the tension, but it’s also here to try and give insight into this being and relate them more to the “Death of the Author” and the “Seeing is Believing” themes. 

I also saw the phrase “If I go blind, so does the world” while I was browsing a list of riddles for D&D campaigns and I was like, “THAT’S SICK, I’M USING THAT.” Really brings the “an eye for an eye” and vengeance vibes. (The riddle was longer than that one phrase, but the answer was “the sun”.) 

- 

The top of the temple reveals one massive room that looks like someone was alternatively scratching their insanity into the walls and tearing chunks out of the interior design with their bare hands. Overtop of the rubble is that eerie overgrowth. There’s a fine layer of water over the floor. At the center of it all is an incredibly enormous desk, cracked in half, with a robed skeleton sitting behind it, slumped over the top. It’s a little too large to be an ordinary human.

Plus, its skull is a little too long, probably to accommodate the third eye socket in the forehead. There’s something gleaming softly yellow in the third eye socket.

“Is… there water dripping from its eyes?” Luo Fanli whispers.

“It looks like it…” Peerless Cucumber whispers back. “Like it's crying…?”

“Still…? Is it dead or not?”

 “Holy shit,” Shang Qinghua thinks, slightly nauseated. “System, bro, the worst bro I’ve ever known, tell me that we have not been swimming in a three-eyed skeleton’s magical undead tears or something this whole time.”

The shitty, no-good System stays unsurprisingly silent. 

- 

AN: Okay, so the idea here is that this being was someone who recorded history and shared their knowledge freely. This being had the ability to discern the truth of a person - they were extremely perceptive. (The Weeper is either female or doesn’t have a gender, by the way.) 

The Weeper met the Garden Master at some point. The Garden Master was an asshole, a liar, arrogant, etc.. The Weeper and the Garden Master clashed badly, until the Weeper sent the cleansing flood that nearly destroyed the sect and the Garden Master essentially had to flee to a personal abyss. 

The Garden Master sent the plant as a final “fuck you” to the Weeper. The plant caused the Weeper to slowly go mad. The smashed tablets and destroyed temple are the Weeper’s work. The Weeper (not in a great state of mind) had the temple closed themselves once they realized they and their work had been corrupted. This was a “you destroy my (embellished) reputation, I destroy yours (and your entire life)” plot by the Garden Master. 

The idea behind the tears is the whole “water is cleansing” thing. The Weeper tried to clean away the madness using their magical water-related abilities... and it actually worked for a long time. But eventually the madness began to overpower the effects of the magical water. The Weeper’s tears are from frustration and helplessness at losing control. 

The water inside the temple combats the plant’s physical effects. Also stabbing the root killed the plant and essentially broke its mental/spiritual powers. 

- 

Unfortunately, to get the fuck out of here, they have to go back through the temple. But hey! That’s still a lot better than an extended hike through an underground, haunted desert in darkness! The battle with the now-dead plant caused its growth to writhe around the temple. The vines need to be hacked through sometimes as they travel down through the rooms of broken shelves and shattered tablets.

“So much history lost…” Peerless Cucumber murmurs.

 “He still thinks of himself as a reader - an observer, a visitor, separate from the flow of fate.”

- 

AN: This is... absolutely based on the Heart from the Dishonored franchise. But this sort of item didn’t originate with Dishonored and I need it! It’s a surprise/mystery tool that will help us later! 

The Eye isn’t exactly a mind-reading object. I mean, it kind of is, but it works in a very specific way that I’m looking forward to getting into. 

- 

From there, their path back out of the natural maze is even more careful and stressful than before, now that the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators are actively looking for them rather than the temple. It’s slow-going and stressful and silent, except for when the Weeper’s Eye presses too close against his chest.

 “He is afraid that if he starts screaming, he will never stop,” it tells him, when he’s looking at a pale-faced Peerless Cucumber, as they fly over a particularly deathly-looking drop.

 “Oh, me too, bro!” Shang Qinghua thinks. “Seriously! Tell me something I don’t know!”

- 

AN: Having Shang Qinghua be totally unimpressed by an object like this was very funny to me. He’s the author! He’s a transmigrator! He knows these people well! He already has insight into their situations. 

- 

Shang Qinghua groans, but supposes that Peerless Cucumber would have at least been disguising Liu Qingge from the back. “You tell them that you were tracking thieves who stole something from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect,” he says quickly. “Rule of embarrassment! Admitting something that makes us look bad to a rival makes it sound true. Don’t tell them what was stolen and act really offended if they try to poke into Cang Qiong business. I’ll come back as soon as I get these two out!”

Liu Qingge nods and launches forward into the fight.

“We’re just leaving him?” Peerless Cucumber says, as they do exactly that.

“I’ll get changed and come back ‘looking for him for urgent sect business’ as soon as I’ve dropped you two off in the last town,” Shang Qinghua says. “I’m really good at acting stressed and confused, and at desperately needing an unstoppable wandering Liu Qingge back at Cang Qiong Mountain Sect immediately. Now let’s go! Let’s go! Mission isn’t over yet!”

- 

AN: Shang Qinghua is, at heart, a liar. I love him. 

[elliemarchetti]

The Most Macabre of Scenes, The Most Terrible of Nightmares

As I hope the few souls reading this have already guessed, requests are open for anything on LOTR and The Hobbit. However, in this chapter the journey of the Fellowship continues, but various shadows loom over their safety and the hearts of its members.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Words: 2643

The attack was short and violent, but fortunately no one was injured. It was about midnight on their eighth day of travel when the Orcs stroke, a raid planned down to the last detail, one might say, as they had took advantage of the current, the crescent moon that lit up the sky and the abundance of strangely bright stars, reflecting like torches on the River’s surface. Their black-feathered arrows had fallen like lethal rain upon the Fellowship, but except for a few torn cloaks, there had been no damage. Hidden among the ferns of the western shore, as awake as they could be, everyone thought about what they saw in the sky after their enemies had unexpectedly retreated, trying to give a name to the great winged creature, blacker than the pits of the night, which had emerged from the south. Fierce voices rose up to greet it from across the water, and Elva could still feel the chills running through her and clutching at her heart, deadly cold like the memory of an old wound. She had killed it, with a single shot from the bow she had received as a gift in Lorien, but she was sure there were others, and she wanted nothing more than to get as far away as possible from that irreparably corrupted land. After that vision, Haldir had no longer spoken, but he was frowning and his mind was probably in Lothlorien, lost in calculating how long such a beast would take to reach the ends of the mallorn’s forest. Lying next to him, Elva wished she was able to say out loud that he could return, if he wished, that no one would’ve wanted him any harm for placing his homeland before a mission that didn’t even belonged to him, and that Galadriel herself would’ve probably been grateful for the warning, but selfishly, she couldn’t, so she hugged tighter her knees under the cloak, a reassurance and a way to fight the changing of the weather. When the day came, the mood of the world about them had become soft and sad. Slowly the dawn grew to a pale light, diffused and shadowless. There was mist on the River, and white fog swathed the shore, making the far bank impossible to see.

“I can’t abide fog,” said Sam, “but this seems to be a lucky one: now perhaps we can get away without those cursed goblins seeing us.”

“Perhaps so,” said Aragorn. “But it will be hard to find the path unless the fog lifts a little later on, and we must, if we are to pass Sarn Gebir and come to the Emyn Muil.”

“I don’t see why we should pass the Rapids or follow the River any further,” said Boromir. “If the Emyn Muil lie before us, then we can abandon these cockle-boats and strike westward and southward, until we come to the Entwash and cross into my own land.”

“We can, if we are making for Minas Tirith,” said Aragorn, “but that’s not yet agreed, and such a course may be more perilous than it sounds: the Entwash’s vale is flat and fenny, fog a deadly peril for those on foot and laden. I wouldn’t abandon our boats until we must, for the River is at least a path that cannot be missed.”

“But the Enemy holds the eastern bank,” objected Boromir, “and even if you pass the Gates of Argonath, coming unmolested to the Tindrock, what will you do then? Leap down the Falls and land in the marshes?”

The tones were heating up, and Elva thought it was time to intervene: “It’s not the way of the Men of Minas Tirith to desert their friends at need, and we’ll need your strength, if ever we are to reach the Tindrock.”

The mortal seemed satisfied with those words, and decided he would go as far as the tall isle, but no further.

“There I shall turn to my home,” he announced, “alone if my help hasn’t earned the reward of any companionship.”

Elva prayed that someone had decided to pursue that mission, but in order to keep an army as powerful as that of Boromir's father, if everyone chose to follow Aragorn, she would be the one to separate from the rest of the companions, this decided a long time ago, perhaps at the very moment Gandalf had chosen her for the Quest. That gloomy possibility, which was so far from her ideals, prompted her to wait for the mist to rise in silence, even as she and Haldir went exploring forward along the shore, while the others remained by the boats. She hoped to find some way by which they could carry everything to the smoother water beyond the Rapids, but even if the elven boats wouldn’t sink, that didn’t ensure they could come through Sarn Gebir alive, for none ever done so yet, and no road was made by the Men of Gondor in this region, for even in their great days their realm didn’t reach up Anduin beyond the Emyn Muil.

“There is a portage-way somewhere on the western shore, if I can find it,” revealed Haldir, so softly that for a moment Elva hardly noticed.

"I didn't tell the others," the elf went on, "because I was afraid they wouldn't believe me, after my miscalculations pushed us towards the Orcs attack; besides, I fought those creatures for a good part of my own adult life, and I could’ve imagined their simple but ingenious plan."

"No one was injured, that's the important thing," Elva replied, thinking that if anyone had risked being hit, it would’ve been him, as an arrow had ripped off both the cloak and the skin of the jacket from his shoulders.

"But if that had happened, the fault would’ve been mine alone, and whoever had accused me, even if only in grief, would’ve been right: you have already lost the Istar, and before I should’ve warned Aragorn it wasn’t wise to continue at night as he suggested, but I didn't, and now I don't want to deceive anyone until I’m sure that my memory doesn’t deceive me," he replied, resolute in the bitterness of someone who can't forgive himself.

"Why are you telling me, then?" Elva asked, unable to stop.

"Because I'm sure I can trust you, and I know you’ve faced the guilt, same or not, even if I still don’t know what you’re carrying it for,” he replied, with a naked and vulnerable honesty, which hit right to the point. She didn't like talking about her past, much less what she felt about it, yet he must’ve seen a difficult life in her eyes, a life that perhaps could’ve been more like his, if only she had been born in another realm. Like Lorien, Mirkwood was a wonderful but tricky place, where growing up as a half-breed wasn't easy at all, especially when you needed to do it by yourself. Getting to know Legolas, and later becoming his confidant and friend, had been a blessing, and she kept telling herself that her true life had begun the day a young prince was bewitched by the ability of a simple recruit with a bow and with words. She hadn't treated him well, weary as every orphan is, and perhaps that was precisely what had intrigued him, since at court no one spoke to him as an equal, much less had the courage to say what they really though, too busy trying to win the future king’s favours, since with the one in charge was so hard. Speaking of Thranduil, he had welcomed her as if she were his own daughter, instructing and having her instructed in the best possible way; but the king was a cold and distant father, rigid in his manner and limited in his displays of affection, not exactly what a girl without parents desires most. If loving Legolas as a brother had been simple, as natural as breathing and almost a matter of survival, the same couldn't be said of the oldest of the Greenleafs, but she had learned that too, and with it the art of concealing her heart, although with Haldir it was so difficult.

"And how can I know I should have the same trust in you?" she asked, her heart heavy. She needed to believe that he wouldn’t leave the Fellowship, even if she followed Boromir and everyone else went by water, and she needed to know if he would understand her decision, or if he would end up misinterpreting it.

"You can't, but to convince you otherwise, I'll tell you something that I'm sure should’ve remained a secret: Galadriel's Mirror showed me three visions, three possible futures, I find myself believing. I still don't want to talk about two, because it doesn't seem wise, but the most macabre of scenes, the most terrible of nightmares that I thought I could have, I feel like sharing: I don't know if the Fellowship had failed in its intent, or if it's the fate that awaits my homeland anyway, if events should take that turn, but darkness had fallen over the forest of golden trees when a flock of huge winged creatures, like the one you killed last night, swept over Calas Galadhon. The Lord and the Lady fought side by side with every common citizen, and a shower of arrows capable of obscuring the stars was sent from each talan towards the sky. I don't know how the battle could end, as my vision was limited to that, but I have seen you fight with us, and defend our young and old as if they were your own. I don't pretend to understand what those images meant, and why the Mirror decided to show them to me, but I believe it was the beginning of Lorien's Winter, the first day of a downhill road to inevitable ruin, yet you were there by our side, and I don't think you'd fight for the land of someone you don’t trust,” he concluded, just as enigmatic as his ruler. Did he meant he understood her malfidence towards the Galadhrim, or was it really just his way of assuming that she would always trust him, to the point of risking death for a place that did not belong to her? There was no way of knowing but asking, and it didn't seem appropriate, fearing that he too might ask her what the Mirror had shown her. Death, she might’ve replied, no matter it was the mallorn’s, his people’s or Haldir’s himself, but she didn't want to talk about it anymore, she just wanted to forget his pale skin in the moonlight, the dust, sweat and blood surrounding her like a sea that smelled of the Enemy's wickedness instead of salt, so she fell silent.

“It cannot yet have perished,” muttered Haldir under his breath, after a while. “Light boats used to journey out of Wilderland down to Osgiliath, and still did so until a few years ago, when the Orcs of Mordor began to multiply.”

“Even if we find the path, peril will grow with every mile we go forward, for it lies ahead on every southward road,” replied Elva

They found what they were looking for just before noon, with the head of the Rapids half a mile below them: a track leading to a good landing, a little more than a mile long, was still serviceable, not far beyond the stream clear and smooth again, though running swiftly. The hardest task was to get the boats and baggage to the old portage-way, lying well back from the water-side near which they were camped, and running under the lee of a rock-wall, a furlong or more from the shore. “I fear we must leave the River now, and make for the portage-way as best we can from here,” said Haldir, once back.

“That wouldn’t be easy, even if we were all Men,” said Boromir.

“Yet such as we are we will try it,” Aragorn replied peremptorily.

“We will!” confirmed Gimli, and although the task was difficult, it was nevertheless completed, the goods taken out of the boats and brought to the top of the bank, where there was a level space, and the boats themselves drawn out of the water and carried up, proving to be far less heavy than any had expected; at last, all was removed to be laid on the portage-way and with little further hindrance, save from sprawling briars and many fallen stones, they moved forward all together. Fog still hung in veils upon the crumbling rock-wall, and to their left mist shrouded the River: they could hear it rushing and foaming over the sharp shelves and stony teeth of Sarn Gebir, but they couldn't see it. There the portage-way, turning back to the water-side, ran gently down to the shallow edge of a little pool scooped in the river-side, not by hand, but by the water swirling down from Sarn Gebir against a low pier of rock that jutted out some way into the stream. Beyond it the shore rose sheer into a grey cliff, and there was no further passage for those on foot. Already the short afternoon was past, and a dim cloudy dusk was closing in. Sitting beside the water, they listened to the confused rush and roar of the Rapids hidden in the mist; they were tired and sleepy, and their hearts were as gloomy as the dying day at the thought of spending there another night, even if it seemed inevitable, given the general fatigue. Luckily, nothing worse than a brief drizzle of rain an hour before dawn happened, and as soon as it was fully light and the fog was thinning, they started. Keeping as close as they could to the western side, they saw the dim shapes of the low cliffs rising ever higher, shadowy walls with their feet in the hurrying river. In the mid-morning the clouds drew down lower, and it began to rain heavily, forcing them to drew the skin-covers over their boats to prevent them from being flooded and drifted on; little could be seen before or about them through the grey falling curtains but it didn’t last long, the sky above growing lighter and suddenly opening, dismissing fogs and mists too. Before the travellers lay a wide ravine, with great rocky sides to which clung, upon shelves and in narrow crevices, a few trees; as they sped along with little hope of stopping or turning, whatever might meet ahead, Elva peered forward, seeing in the distance two great rocks approaching. Like pinnacles or pillars of stone they stood, tall, sheer and ominous, creating a narrow gap among which the boats could only pass one by one. They were the Argonath, the Pillars of the Kings, vast grey figures silent but threatening, shaped and fashioned as two great kings of stone with blurred eyes and crannied brows frowning upon the North. The left hand of each was raised palm outwards in gesture of warning, while in each right hand there was an axe and upon each head there was a crumbling helm and crown. Great power and majesty they still wore, the silent wardens of a long-vanished Kingdom, instilling awe and fear in the Fellowship travelling in boats frail and fleeting as little leaves, under the enduring shadow of the sentinels of Numenor. Passing into the dark chasm of the Gates, sheer rose the dreadful cliffs on either side, while the black waters roared and echoed, and a wind screamed over them. What a horrible place it was, but it must’ve been even worse for Aragorn, a king in exile who was finally returning to his land only to see it filled with the noise of wind, rushing water and echoing stone.

[essays-for-breakfast]

Let the Time of Separation Disappear

Kiane Week Day One: Touch/Feel

This group thing was a terrible idea. The Seven Deadly Sins – more like the seven daily prayers King sent to the Sacred Tree to put an end to this madhouse. No matter how skilled the individual fighters might prove in combat – and King had his doubts about at least two of the four oddballs in this matter –, they would not function as a unit. The afternoons he spent trapped in the community quarters high up in Liones castle demonstrated this point with such emphasis, he might laugh. That is, if he hadn’t felt so miserable.

On the rare occasion that the Mage, Merlin, showed herself, she would levitate in a corner of the room, smile to herself, and watch the disaster unfold. She played the group without the need of a single word, and King did his utmost to turn invisible whenever she teleported into their midst. But the Captain, Meliodas, would always shatter his efforts by showering everyone on the team with a disgusting excess of liquor only humans could find amusing. 

And unfortunately, ‘everyone’ included King.

The third of the bunch, Gowther, did nothing much at all. He sat on the floor in his clunky armor, took away space, and sometimes speed through a book Merlin handed to him in about a minute. The mere thought of gluing his eyes onto a piece of manufactured wood filled with this many words gave King a headache.

And no, the alcohol was not responsible this time. Although the sight of Gowther’s untouched mug on the floor did produce a foul taste on his tongue. King hurried to open the nearest window, and swallowed a lungful of oxygen. A bit better. Even though the air circling around the human castle lacked the scents of nature, of conifers and pollen and grass heavy with morning dew.

“What’s the matter, King, you gotta throw up?”

King craned his neck to throw a death glare at the owner of the voice.

Ban was by far and away the worst. If a single human existed to whom King liked to demonstrate the deadly capabilities of his Sacred Treasure more than Aldrich, Ban would make for the ideal candidate. Careless, loud, rude, followed by the stench of alcohol wherever he went, and overall, the most human-like human King had had the displeasure to meet. The day he would fight alongside this man would without a doubt bring about the end of Britannia.

“I would have rather stayed in my cell,” King said with a pleading look in Meliodas’ direction.

“Too late. I got’cha out of there, so you owe me your eternal loyalty. Although I might free you from your debt if ya take another drink and relax. I’ve got good news this time.”

Gowther looked up from his book with a teeth-clattering shriek of his helmet. “Does this mean you have found one of our missing members?”

Meliodas grinned. “Bingo.”

“Nooo!” King buried his face between his hands. “Not another one. I won’t take another.”

The only hinderance that had so far saved him from the dreaded field missions as a special order of King Bartra’s Holy Knights with a special talent for lacking any resemblance of teamwork, had been their shortage of numbers. According to Bartra’s vision, seven knights would unite against an unnamed great threat. King’s lucky streak had not only pushed him into the spotlight as one of these seven, it had also chosen the worst people as his teammates. And he had little hope that the Sins of Envy and Pride would upset the trend once they showed up.

Meliodas wiggled an accusing finger in the air. “Now, now, King, you have to give her the opportunity to win you over. I met her by chance before she was sentenced. She’s a nice girl. And her grilled pork tastes far better than mine.”

“That’s a low standard to beat.” Ban robbed across the lavish carpet – the pelt of a white hound-like creature if King had to guess – and put an arm around the Captain’s neck. “I’ve never tasted worse food than yours!”

“Well, it’s not like cooking’s a revered skill where I come from.”

“To return to your complaint, King,” Merlin said while hiding her intentions behind the rim of her wine glass, “I believe our newcomer will surprise you. You might find that you share more than a few things with her.”

Aha. Another one of Merlin’s cryptic messages. Did the Captain carry with him a dictionary on the way she shared knowledge in singular puzzle pieces to understand her? And could King borrow such a dictionary?

“Let’s just get this over with,” he said with a sigh.

Meliodas clapped his hands together. “Great! But we gotta go out to the yard to meet her. She’s a little shy.”

With crossed arms, King floated behind the others through the great halls of the castle. Cold stone atop of more cold stone, decorated with stone ornaments. A handful of knights passed them on their way towards the yard and stared at the group with a mixture of curiosity and hostility. Many a hand wandered towards the hilt of a sword, mace, or spear. King could handle the glares, as a Fairy, he had earned a plethora of glances and hushed comments from his prison guards throughout the past two hundred years. His human form did little to divert suspicion, after all, he hobbled behind an armored colossus, a drunkard, and a blond child. But what unnerved King far more was the fact that he would soon have to collaborate with these human knights and fight their war. Last time he had been forced to kill, his hand hadn’t stopped trembling for days on end.

King bumped into Ban when the latter stopped dead on the doorstep towards the yard. The string of curses he planned to hurl at Ban died in his throat, suffocated by the sight of his newest teammate. She reached thirty feet above the cobblestone, her head blocked the sun, and she refused to dissolve after one, two, four hacked breaths that escaped King’s mouth like whimpers.

She hadn’t changed one bit. Of course, she had grown in these two hundred years, the shape of her body had become more defined with added curves, but she still wore her hair in pigtails, she still shuffled her right foot over the ground, and she still hid her face behind brown locks when none of the other Sins raised their voice to greet her.

Her eyes, a shade of violet more intense than any forget-me-not – the same.

Her hands, strong and dirt-stained and able to form clay into fantastical figures – the same.

Her voice when she mumbled a “Hi, guys” into her hair – the same.

The world turned upside down and shrunk, King’s vision and his sense of smell narrowed until no one but her existed, her and a cave and a field of flowers he had called home. She had survived – what had led her here? Did she remember? No, of course not, the spell King had woven had plucked every last hint of him from her memory. But she still stood here, presented to him as his teammate. They could spend their time together like they had used to – but they would fight in a war together. She might get hurt, she might be forced to kill, she might see the failure he was, a killer who didn’t hesitate to end his best friend’s life. Even if the universe had worked its magic to make her remember him… wouldn’t she hate him? For abandoning her?

Ban smacked his elbow into King’s ribs. “Will ya say hi to her already? Otherwise my feet are gonna freeze to the ground.”

What? Had any of them talked? Had Meliodas introduced her already? King turned towards the Captain for help, but he only offered a knowing grin that matched Merlin’s expression to a T.

She extended a hand towards King, the skin covered by tiny scars from a life in the wild. “The name’s Diane.”

“Harle- You can call me King.”

“Nice to meet you, King.” The smile she gifted him was ripped right out of his memories, untainted by the two hundred years of separation.

And when he placed a trembling hand against her outstretched finger, every moment that had withered and lost its gleam in the darkness of his prison cell returned to him, and they were kids again. The games of tag, the stories she told him, the anecdotes about plants he shared with her, the sound of her laugh, the smell of grilled pork, the warmth of her body next to him when they slept.

All of this and more overwhelmed King at the touch of Diane’s skin. The sweaty palm of his human form against the softness of her fingertip, so close that he felt the individual grooves and bumps of her skin.

His heart might have well run away and forgotten to beat when Diane leaned forward. “We wouldn’t happen to know each other, right? Something about you feels familiar… I can’t put my finger on it.”

“W-where could we have met?” King blinked against the sting in his eyes. Probably dust. Yeah, definitely dust. “I’m sure you’re imagining it. You can find a face like mine all around human towns, right Captain?”

“Sure, but most of those folks can’t fly.”

“I always wondered about this,” Ban said. “But I’ve had at least two… three… five bottles of ale, so I can’t trust me ears or my eyes anymore. Speaking of, with our sixth member tracked down, the evening calls for a celebration! Captain, you wouldn’t happen to have more of that Vanya Ale stocked somewhere?”

Meliodas grinned. “I’m one step ahead of you. You’ll join too, right Diane?”

“How could I decline when you’re the one asking?” Diane winked at the Captain, but by some miracle, her eyes found their way back to King. “Still, I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before. It’s like a memory from long ago I can’t quite reach.”

“Maybe it was a dream,” King said. “People can imagine the most wonderous things when they’re dreaming.”

But he remembered. He remembered all of it, all the moments, the conversations, and the quiet togetherness Diane had forgotten. And on this day and throughout the next five years King stayed beside her. He found excuses to touch her, hand her a drink, brush her arm when floating next to her, high-five her after a successful mission. Her skin against his skin for the briefest of moments.

So that at least one of them remembered.

[violetmuses]

Grey || Chapter 2

Dedications: @clints-lucky-arrow @mymagicsuitcase @mypoisonedvine @punemy-spotted

__________

2023

Helmut Zemo

“I was a God. I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do, but mine was going to be different. No clunky machines or jacked up bodies. Mine was going to be subtle, optimized, perfect.” Dr. Nagel held enough arrogance to proclaim so-called immortality. We learned as well that Nagel recreated twenty vials of the damn Serum before Karli Morgenthau had stolen those items. I kept scowling, eying his boxed lab with disgust. Across the room, James and Sam were still alert nearby.

“How have we never heard about this?” Sam reasonably questioned soon after lowering his own firearm. James still kept his weapon close, planning to threaten Nagel once more if need be.

“Before I was able to complete my work, I turned to dust. When I returned, it was five years later. The program had been abandoned, so I came here. The Power Broker was more than happy to fund the recreation of my work.” Nagel continued speaking, his voice low but still purposeful. I quietly armed myself after finding a gun tucked under one silver cart.

“Where’s Karli now?” Sam probed once more as expected, keeping calm despite our current situation of urgency. With each passing moment, I’d become restless, but knew better than to react before questioning truly gripped its strong point.

“I don't know where Karli is, but a couple of days ago, she called and asked if I could help someone named Donya Madani. The poor woman has tuberculosis and it’s a typical consequence of overpopulation in displacement camps like that.” Nagel offered more information and I still listened intently, despite holding the gun.

“What happened to Donya?” Sam then asked logically to volley himself back for this interrogation.

“Not my pig, not my farm.” Nagel acted smug once more, irking my thoughts again.

For a moment, I concealed my weapon and stepped towards him, eying Sam as he allowed me to move forward. If questioning by “good people” didn’t work, then there was a chance that I would be convincing here. There was no other choice.

“If you won’t reveal where Karli is, then perhaps you can tell me where this woman could be found.” I reached for one of my inner coat pockets and showed Nagel this personal photograph. My own heart dropped and raced all at once this time.

“You’re definitely behind the times with this picture, but I know exactly who that is.” Nagel laughed almost menacingly to himself while sitting in the chair. James and Sam stood in place with clueless expressions, but of course I did not care.

Another story for another time.

“Where is she?” I asked, nearly gritted my teeth whilst anger coursed through every vein within me now. James and Sam were still watching us both, but questions had surely crossed their minds as I changed subjects of this probe.

“Dionne Charles has hid in plain sight for decades now. You haven’t been paying attention.” Nagel clued to me, but remained vague. It took everything in me not to shoot, but his answers would've meant quite the breakthrough. I needed more.

“Is she here?” I snapped once more, patience finally growing thin.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Nagel shrugged. I back away, deciding not to pull the trigger yet.

“Back to business. Is there any serum in this lab?” James stepped forward and pressed the barrel of his firearm right up against Nagel’s temple.

“No,” Nagel allowed his voice to tremble as he reached the brink of death once more.

“Guys, we're seriously outta time here!” Unexpectedly, Sharon Carter entered the container and warned us of more incoming trouble.

Not caring, I finally unveiled my firearm soon and pulled the trigger, killing Nagel without any further hesitation.

“No!” Sam and James then yelled towards my direction, pulling me back with his own stronghold.

“What did you do?” Sharon asked, peering towards my eyes. I still couldn’t care less. Impact of the powerful gunshot had shuffled Nagel and forced his hardened chair to fall backward. Blood immediately splattered all over his chest and face.

_______

James, Sam, and I had taken my private jet once more, moving to my safe house in Riga, Latvia the following day. One GRC resettlement camp had been located in this specific city and Donya Madani passed away there, which signaled one step closer towards Karli.

“I’ll ask you again. Who the hell is Dionne Charles? You won’t even show us the picture that Nagel saw yesterday.” Sam questioned me, sitting at the kitchen counter. I’d placed down a drink for him, but he crossed both arms, waiting for me.

“Fine, do you want the truth?” Sarcasm lined my voice, but he was right. I’d quietly spent the past few days hiding behind phones and secrecy to find someone and my veiled movement left them suspicious.

“Lying would put you back in jail without a doubt, so tell me everything.” Sam kept his words leveled, but this sense of curiosity peaked as well.

“Apologies for the old photograph, but this is the image that I showed Nagel yesterday.” I’d taken this laminated Polaroid out of my coat and finally handed the beloved image to Sam.

I’d captured the image myself with a disposable camera. 2003 had marked the year on a white border. In this candid picture, Dionne wore this cocktail dress and drank her favorite wine, sitting on the balcony of my family’s estate in bliss. The dark complexion of her skin tone nearly glowed as daylight turned into evening.

“She’s beautiful.” Sam mumbled gently, but I understood. Of course she was beautiful.

“I know.” I sighed, thinking back. Anyone with two eyes knew that she was arguably one of the most gorgeous people in the world. The phrase “often replicated, but never duplicated” was true, especially considering her presence.

‘Any reason why you’ve kept this picture around? I’m sure that times have obviously changed for both of you.” Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. At least he was not willing to act invasive.

“Nostalgia, perhaps. I haven’t seen her in person since…” I trailed off these words when James entered the safe house, entering my kitchen as well. Even Sam had then caught me and tucked the Polaroid back into that fur-lined coat of mine.

Mission first, memories later. I thought to myself.

“Well, the Wakandans are here and they want Zemo. I just bought us some more time.” James announced, not bothering to greet Sam or I in some content manner.

“Were you followed?” Sam asked James in return, completely forgetting and ignoring my previous conversation with him.

“No.” James answered quickly.

“How can you be so sure?” I joined in, facing the stain-glass window.

“Cause I know when I'm being followed.” James defended himself.

“It was sweet of you to defend me at least.” I turned away from the window and sprayed cologne, faintly smirking.

“Shut it, no one’s defending you. You killed Nagel.” It was not long before Sam spoke up once more, facing me.

“Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened?” I volleyed back, prompting Sam to respond again.

“There's nothing to litigate. You straight shot the man.” Sam eyed me as I handed over another beverage.

“Eleven injured, three dead.” James scrolled through his cell and offered information on Karli. A bombing at the GRC supply depot had taken place recently. There would be more attacks if a list of demands weren’t met as soon as possible.

“The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It was that warped aspiration that led to Nazis, to Ultron, and to the Avengers.” I reiterated our need to rid the world of these monsters. No one deserved to have that immortality.

“So, Karli is radicalized, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her.” Sam joined the conversation once more, facing me and James.

“The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals. Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop and she will escalate until you kill her, or she kills you.” I set down the truth of Karli’s intent.

Whilst discussing our mission, I didn’t know what to believe when my burner phone began ringing within the trench coat. Backing away from James and Sam, I discreetly moved towards my coat and reached for that pocket. James and Sam were clueless, just continuing to speak on Karli or the Flag Smashers radicals.

973-675-1342

As soon as I grabbed the phone, this New Jersey phone number flashed before my eyes, signaling memories that had been long buried. Ignoring James and Sam once more, I headed into this cornered master bedroom, closing the door behind me.

“Hello?” Pacing back and forth at the foot of this bed, It was not long before I smiled briefly, trying to register the possibility of hearing her voice without jumping through the answering machine. This chat would be twenty years in the making.

“Who the hell are you?” On the other line, a man’s voice nearly growled unexpectedly to somehow address me. I’d never heard his voice before, but anger coursed through my veins as time stopped. This stranger even sounded American.

“Where’s Dionne?” I snipped with a low tone, conjuring up the worst case scenarios. In short the time when Nagel explained that Dionne could’ve been hiding in plain sight, an abduction could’ve taken place soon after. My skin crawled.

“You really don’t remember me, Colonel? That’s a shame.” This bastard laughed to himself while briefly recalling my years with Eko Skorpion. Despite still holding the title of Baron, I’d taken military service not long before Ultron destroyed Sokovia.

“At least give me your last name during this call, please. You sound like some average and run-of-the-mill American man.” I said, rolling both eyes, regardless of ongoing anger. For all I knew, this man could’ve held Dionne for ransom right now.

“Perkins.”

Back in 2012, Russell Perkins somehow bypassed the no-flight list and failed this harsh attempt to assassinate one of Sokovia’s official diplomats. Not only was Perkins arrested and indicted immediately, but he’d been imprisoned shortly after.

“How the hell did you escape prison?” I grit my teeth. Enough was enough.

“I could ask you the same question.” Perkins chuckled, showing the velvet tone of voice that would’ve rivaled any one of my cousins on their best day.

“How I have now been freed from my cell is none of your concern, Perkins. Where is she?” I returned to our main speaking point: Dionne. My heart dropped and shattered once more, trying to calm, but still enraged now.

“Right here. Hold on.” Perkins lowered his voice once more. Both anxiety and anticipation had quickly raced through my mind as I listened out for Dionne's presence, hoping that Perkins wouldn’t make a joke out of this very situation.

“Z…” Dionne spoke to me at last. Her voice, nearly fleeting, edging on the brink of death, shocked me. Not a hint of joy or content lined her tone as she tried to utter my last name.

“Hello, Sweetheart.” Tears pickled my own eyes. Yet, at that moment, my heart sank. It took everything in me not to shout for her and give myself away during this phone call. Sam and James would’ve immediately noticed that I was not nearby.

“Don’t say that to me.” she warned, reminding my heart of the mistake that led to our breakup many years ago.

“Apologises.” I whispered to her, still keeping my voice leveled despite the anguish that filled my very being now.

“Just say hi to Sam for me and tell James that I’m proud of him. I’ve heard a lot of different things since The Blip took place.” Dionne offered greetings to Sam and James, emoting bittersweetness.

“I promise to speak with James and Sam, but where are you? Where is Perkins hiding you right now? Please tell me.” I tried to keep up this clear facade of strength, but the attempt crumbled with each passing moment.

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t tell you. He’ll...he’ll kill me if you find out.” Dionne whispered back to me. Her perfect voice had shuddered against my left eardrum in response, but one damn gunshot then pierced out loud just moments later.

“No!” I yelled, allowing the phone to drop out of my hand instantly. If James and Sam barged through the door, so be it. To be honest, this moment marked the first time that I’d genuinely cried since the loss of my family, including Heike and Karl.

______

“I took the liberty of crossing my name off in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do. Goodbye, James.” I bid farewell to James one last time before members of The Dora Milaje could haul me away towards The Raft now.

“She’s alive.” Whilst lowering his firearm at last, James uttered something from behind me. At one point in time, even one member of the Dora had allowed me to turn around.

“What did you just say?” I asked, narrowing my eyes across the cobblestone path found between us.

“Dionne is alive.” James repeated himself.

[vagrantblvrd]

Got any jeremwood ideas rattling around your brain? I've been craving battle buddies (lately, but also always), smooches ideally

You know, friend? I’ve had Battle Buddies in the back of my brain a lot recently and like nothing for them to do? But then in the shower this morning I had an Idea.

These two idiots working for their respective agencies or units and have the Worst Bosses whether through sheer incompetence or design. (Laziness or greed and not their problem if some asshole agents/operatives bit it on their watch. Hell, might be for the best if they do, if the WB is corrupt or working for the Enemy whoever that is.)

Ryan, well he’s in a Bad Place because some missions that Went Wrong and his name’s not worth much in their world anymore, right? Everyone thinks he’s either the worst kind of jinx with how many missions/operations go to shit when he’s around or he’s on the Enemy’s payroll. (Whoever that may be.)

Jeremy?

Young and stupid and got into some shit he shouldn’t have and it was this or jail and for whatever reason this seemed like the better deal. (Tell that to his scars or nightmares or shortened life-span whenever that shitball mission that gets him killed way before his time rolls around, though.)

They’re both stuck where they are and (more or less) resigned to it.

Ryan’s got Plans, though, on how to get out of his situation. Intel and Secrets he’s been gathering for years hoping to expose the people behind whatever gave him a bad reputation. (He spins it like that in his head sometimes, tries to make it about himself and not the others, the good people he’s known, who got killed by these assholes because otherwise he might abandon the long game he’s been playing for years and go in guns blazing. (OR the equivalent.)

Jeremy’s got an idea or two, but they keep reassigning him or the people he trusts to help him and he’s not sure what the safest way to do this is anymore. (Oh, he’s not worried for himself, but Matt and Trevor? Yeah. Big, big worries about those two assholes and how easy it would be for them to have “accidents” if he fucks up, so. Yeah.)

ANYWAY.

Their bosses have been working them hard for a few months (months, years, it all blurs together you know?) and they get some downtime before a Big Mission.

Conveniently (Plot Reasons) they’re in the same city at the time, because of course they are. Last stop coming back from a shitty mission to go to HQ to brief for the next shitty mission and their flight isn’t until the next day or something along those lines. (PLOT REASONS.)

Ryan gets a message telling him to meet a contact who might be able to help him with his own secret mission at a shady club somewhere. Jeremy – fuck.

He just wants a drink, and if he runs into someone to spend the night with that’s a bonus. (All this stress from the last however long and knowing he’s probably going to be dead by the end of the week, and why the fuck not, right?)

SO.

They both end up at the same club (PLOT REASONS) and Ryan’s contact never shows, so he just. Fuck, he’s already there and the diet soda’s flowing and just.

He doesn’t even know, is the thing.

Doesn’t want to go back to the shithole he’s been staying at because it’s bugged to high hell and it’s always entertaining to people watch. (Entertaining and keeps his skills sharp, two birds and all that.)

After a while he notices this one guy, right? Short as hell but there’s just something about him that makes you forget that – might be the fact he’s about to get into a fucking fight with some asshole hassling a couple of women. (Young, college age or thereabouts and looking around for the bouncer who’s been MIA for a while now.)

No one else seems willing to get involved, deescalate things or back the short fucker up, so Ryan tosses back the last of his drink (and fuck, fuck, don’t do that again because oh, God, the carbonation,) and goes over to help.

He doesn’t catch what the drunk asshole says – music’s too loud and there are people all over the fucking place – but he hears the short guy laugh. This bark, really, sounds like he’s heard the best damn joke ever – and hauls back and decks the drunk asshole without dropping that bright, friendly smile of his.

Fucking goes for it, you know? Perfect form and in the back of Ryan’s head he knows it’s weird to be hung up on that, but he’s too busy watching the short bastard turn to handle the drunk asshole’s friend to be bothered by that. (Also, making his way through the crowd to help, all “Pardon me,” and, “Passing through, don’t mind me, ladies,” and so on.

By the time he reaches the short bastard (of course it’s Jeremy) Jeremy’s taken care of two more assholes and all that’s left for Ryan to do is trip the last idiot running into the fight so he falls on his face and just kind of stays there, too drunk to realize what just happened and overall just dumb.

Jeremy’s got all this adrenaline running through him and turns to face Ryan, thinking he’s just another asshole (he’s not wrong on that one, but Ryan’s a different kind of asshole, so…) and Ryan gives him this dumb smile and holds his hands up.

“Whoa, hey,” he says, and he’s laughing a little because Jeremy looks like he’s about to go for his damn throat. “I was going to lend you a hand with these idiots, but it looks like you have everything under control.”

Jeremy stares at him because what? After a moment what Ryan says actually registers and he looks around at the drunk assholes picking themselves up off the ground (or helping their buddies who Jeremy knocked the fuck out) scurry off with their tails between their legs.

And then it’s mutual staring because Idiots, and the women Jeremy helped clear their throats and thank him before wandering off.

More staring?

Jeremy looking Ryan over like hey, okay, not bad on the eyes, and he doesn’t seem like an asshole? Meanwhile Ryan’s like oh, no because Jeremy’s also not hard on the eyes and it’s been a while for him and how do social interaction with someone who’s not a contact or target or WB?

Thankfully Jeremy is less of a human disaster (not by much, but it’s enough) and they wander off to a quiet table somewhere. Ryan gets another diet soda and Jeremy gets his drink and they chitchat for a while, Jeremy getting a wee bit tipsy and Ryan getting a wee bit more oh, no because Jeremy’s nice and funny and laughs at Ryan’s dumb jokes even though they’re both well aware how terrible they are?

And then!

Just when they’re about to maybe get around to the your place or mine bit of the conversation, they both notice some Shady Dealings going on.

Too well-trained not to notice, and Ryan’s like well, shit and makes up some lame excuse to go check on things, not knowing he beat Jeremy to it by mere seconds.

Ryan goes all Sekrit Agent/operative with the stealthily following/eavesdropping whatever while Jeremy does the same. (Due to Plot Reasons they don’t spot one another right away because Plot Reasons.)

The stalking continues long enough for them to realize some serious shit is going down – maybe ties into their respective missions, maybe not.

Shenanigans in which they lose the guy’s they’re tailing and round a corner to run into one another and don’t recognize one another at first, just think they’re baddies?

Some hand-to-hand Sekrit Agent fighty stuff until Ryan manages to pin Jeremy (height/weight advantage or something, and Jeremy’s still got that alcohol slowing his reflexes and just, yes) and then Ryan’s like - !!! because it’s the guy from the club?

Jeremy totally gave him a fake name – old habits and Ryan still doesn’t believe anyone would be so cruel to name their kid Rimmy Tim, but whatever.

ANYWAY.

Jeremy is likewise !!! because what are the odds, right? (Ryan also gave him a fake name, and no one names their kid Reggie or whatever, but the hell does he know?)

Some Suspicion because what are the odds, indeed. Also, their respective situations and career choice make trust a hard thing to earn and all that, but before they can get too deeply into the do they or don’t they of trusting one another the actual baddies find them.

Thought they were being followed and better check it out, and anyway, there’s the usual shootout/hide behind cover and snark back and forth before one of them gets a flesh wound and they manage to escape.

Go to some cheap motel – God knows wherever they’ve been staying isn’t safe or secure – bugged to hell and who the fuck knows what else – to patch one another up. Offer some truth – sekrit agent/operatives and (technically) on the same side and the baddies are definitely NOT on their side and too much Good Guys NOT to look into things even if they’re on their own?

And wouldn’t you know it, they both know where to get their hands on the weapons gear they’re going to need to deal with things in the city and it’s just.

The two of them working together – and totally flirting because there are no rules tonight, you know? They’re probably (definitely) going to get themselves killed doing this and no WB breathing down their necks and their next mission probably would have killed them anyway.

Super competent sekrit agent/operative stuff with the track jig down the baddies and finding out what they’re doing (weapons trades or national secrets, something blah, blah, blah,) and being all oh no, that’s hot when one of them shows their competence or does some cool sekrit agent/operative thing?

Also bantering and realizing that while this is the worst idea either of them has ever had, it’s also the most fun?

(Which is sad because wow, they’ve wasted a lot of their lives working for assholes, but whatever.)

Before they go in for the climactic fight or whatever, they’re like, fuck it and kiss because might as well at this point, right?

Probably going to die, and if they don’t it’s not going to hurt. (They were thinking about the whole one-night stand thing before the sekrit agent/operative shit happened, so yeah.)

Action scene like whoa in which there is shooting and yelling and (flesh wounds on Ryan and Jeremy’s part because I’m a sucker for those, sorry friend) and one of them being held at gunpoint, because of course they are.

The thing where their eyes meet and the one being held at gunpoint by the Head Baddy (Jeremy, it’s totally Jeremy) is all “Do it,” or “This isn’t your fault,” or something else the Good Guy always says in this situation? And  Ryan starts to lower his gun because he can’t let the HB kill him?

And just when the HB is all gloaty mcgloaterson, Ryan whips out a throwing knife and gets him in the throat, saving Jeremy’s life and making the HB super dead.

The !!! moment of realizing wow, he’s not dead? And Ryan being like wow, it actually worked? Neat! And then the two of them staring at one another like what now?

Which, of course, is when the sekrit agents/operatives who have been watching HB and their cronies this whole time show up.

Geoff and his idiots and just. The fuck did you two do? (~Ruined months of work on Gavin and Michael’s part, since they’ve been working on getting HB and their people with the weapons trade/national secret thing and goddamn, what the fuck you two?)

Ryan and Jeremy being all ??? while Geoff’s people swarm the area and get shunted off to a little gray room somewhere for debriefing/interrogation thinking they’re really fucked this time? Sit there for hours and hours and hours. (Chitchat and banter and try not to think about what’s going to happen to them now.)

But of course not. (Because Plot Reasons.)

Geoff sweeps in with Jack and they have a nice chat about things.

The shit Ryan and Jeremy did with HB and their people, and their respective situations with their agencies/units and what do they say about working for Geoff instead?

“Uh,” and “What?”, and “Are you high?”

Because look.

No way their respective agencies/units are going to let them go knowing what they do, right? Shady as hell and corrupt and they’d rather see Ryan and Jeremy dead than let them tell anyone what’s been going on. (Have been trying for a while, actually, but they’re stubborn bastards.)

Geoff rolling his eyes and asking them if they’d like to work for him if he helped them take care of their respective agencies/units because he’s had his people looking into things since Ryan and Jeremy stumbled into their operation and the things they found, you know?

Still.

Best deal they’ve been offered – and who knows, they might live through it – so they say yes.

Geoff is delighted because he’s been meaning to deal with their agencies/units but hasn’t had the time with other shit going on. But with them on board it’ll go faster, or something?

Whatever.

Jeremy won’t do it unless Geoff gets Matt and Trevor out of his agency/unit – which he does because they’re useful bastards. (Also, like hell would he have left them there once he found out what was going on.)

Ryan’s own people (the ones still alive) were out of the line of fire before now, so he’s good to go.

Geoff (who doesn’t realize what he’s done, but when he does? ALL the regret) introduces them to Gavin and Michael and everyone else and it’s pretty much a disaster in the best way.

They get teamed up because everyone's impressed with what they managed to do and all that. Work together for a few months with the flirting and banter before they finally go on a date-thing?

Like.

Flirting’s easy, comes with the territory, but actual FEELINGs and whatnot are complicated and stupid hard. (...that’s what she said.)

Takes a close call to make them realize they’re wasting time better spent NOT being dumbasses (and maybe one of the others says as much) and then it’s some blurted invitation to coffee or burgers or whatever and this date...thing.

It gets ruined, of course, because enemies from their past pop up and shoot at them and then shenanigans? But they smooch somewhere in there and get other the awkward stage of being them and not knowing how to do FEELINGS and like. Save the day, but also smooch, idk, you know how these things go.

And then everyone makes fun of them for forever for not figuring their shit out before then, and also a lot of death-defying shenanigans and explosions and sekrit agent/operative fun-times???

[thosekidswhohuntmonsters]

Golden Boy 

Summary: It’s been a week since the readers little kitchen fling with Bucky and neither of them have really said anything in response to it. It isn’t until a night out drinking that Bucky makes it painfully clear what he wants. 

Word Count: 2043

Song Pairing: Bad Guy-Billie Eilish 

Authors note: As you can clearly see this fic is only going to get progressively smuttier. the dialogue in this fic is going to RUIN YOU!! 

Part One to this series: here

My AO3    My Masterlist 

***please reblog/comment on my fics if you enjoy them! it lets me know I should keep on doing what I’m doing***

     It took everything in you to not throw up at the scene in front of you. There stood Bucky leaning against the bar, a flock of new recruits surrounding him. It was painfully obvious nearly every girl and guy crowding him wanted him, and it was even more obvious that he enjoyed it.

He could be such a complete and utter cock sometimes. Bucky loved the idea that he was wanted. He’d always flash his devilish smirk, look you up and down with his ocean blue eyes, and find a way to let his touch linger.

The man could have anyone a stuttering and drooling mess within mere seconds and he knew it. You hated it. Or maybe you hated that you didn’t hate it. With a snap of his fingers Bucky could have you on your knees.

The tough part was that you weren’t the only one. You didn’t like competing for someone's attention, or feeling like you were just another name on a long list of devotees. So you watched from the sidelines and did you best to ignore the aching in your heart.

It had been an entire week since your little moment in the kitchen, and neither of you had truly acted on it. As if sensing your internal struggle, and ultimately your weakness, Bucky abandoned his flock and made his way towards you.

“And here I thought you were too good to be out drinking when we have training in the morning princess”.

There it was, your little secret. Princess. Once again flowing effortlessly from his lips, and stirring up a storm of desire and confusion within yourself.

In honor of the recruits completing their first week of Hell Month, aka the most intense boot camp Steve could come up with, everyone had gone out for drinks. You had been enjoying a night with Sam until Nat walked in and the man lost all common sense.

Before you could answer Bucky leaned in and whispered into your ear, “Don’t worry princess I won’t tell Steve”. You cursed your body for betraying you and instantly getting goosebumps as his lips grazed your skin. He just had to use that pet name huh?

“And I won’t tell Steve you’re sleeping with the new recruits” you teased back. You would’ve picked a single recruit to name drop, but in all honestly it seemed like every single one wanted to be sleeping with Bucky.

Bucky’s curiosity peaked, “Hmm what makes you think I’m sleeping with any of them let alone multiple”. You wanted to kill him. Did he really want you to basically explain how desirable he was?

“The fact that you have an entire flock of them following you around like love sick pups”.

“Jealous are we?”.

You wanted to wipe the cocky grin right off of his face with the same right hook you’d taught the recruits earlier during training. Yes you were jealous but you didn’t want him knowing that. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“No, just wondering how our next mission will go when they’re all too busy staring into your eyes instead of actually fighting crime”.

By now Bucky had joined you in the booth, sitting across from you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had his full attention like this. Maybe the kitchen. It felt as though you were a moth drawn to a flame.

“You seem to do that and still manage to get the job done”.

Your jaw dropped and you let out a humourless laugh. He was even cockier than usual. Bucky sat across from you with the biggest shit eating grin you had ever seen. He was so clearly full of himself tonight you couldn’t believe it!

“Hmm well atleast I stare at your eyes” you said before staring briefly at his chest so he’d get the picture. Bucky had no right to act as if he didn’t undress people with his eyes for a living. The man shamelessly eyed people up and down no matter the situation.

“Listen princess, am I not supposed to appreciate god's work?”.

It was as if someone had set him on “cock-sure” mode and then hit self destruct. Normally his confidence was sexy but tonight it was starting to piss you off. Especially with how much everyone else had already been idolizing him.

Had your moment last week meant nothing to him? Were you just another fun thing to play with to him? You were starting to get really annoyed, and heart broken.

“Why don’t you go appreciate god's work on the recruits instead of me, princess”.

With that you left the booth and made your way toward the bar. Making sure to sit as far away from any of Bucky’s new disciples as possible. No doubt they had all been eying you down and wondering what you’d done to deserve Bucky’s full attention.

In the time it had taken you to sit down and order another drink Bucky was already at your side again. He’d never liked rejection, and he especially disliked it coming from you. Plus the way you’d called him princess had turned him on too much for him to just let your little game die then and there.

“Well aren’t you the gift that keeps on giving”.

Bucky smiled in response. He knew that your anger was just a mask, but he wasn’t sure what exactly it was masking. Did you just think he would be a fun fuck? Or had you developed feelings for him?

“I’m all about the pleasure of others”.

Had he learned nothing from your first exit? Bucky was nearly being relentless at this point. You took a sip of your drink, “Well it would please me if you left me alone”. That was an absolute lie.

You didn’t want him to leave you alone. Hell you wanted him to never leave your side again! It was just that you wanted him to stop being such a douchebag and actually be himself for a little. It was hard to imagine this Bucky being who Steve risked everything for.

“Well if I leave then nothing is going to stop West from having eye sex with you”.

Bucky nodded his head toward your right where West had been standing. He was leaning against the bar, drink in hand, and completely ignoring the girl talking to him.

You let out a low groan. The last thing you wanted was to be left alone with West. You’d barely escaped from him last week and you’d be dodging him ever since.

“Please do not leave me alone with that” you begged.

Bucky was happy that you still seemed to be ignoring West and his apparent desires to have you, but he was still a little unsure about it all. This had been the most you’d spoken to him all week, “I thought you would’ve asked me to leave even quicker”.

Now that was a lie on his part. Bucky was afraid you would’ve asked him to leave even faster, but he’d been holding out hope that you wouldn’t. He watched as your eyes widened, “Wait do you still think West is my type”.

“He's a total golden boy, and you’re a total good girl so duh”.

This time you laughed for real and it was a hard and long laugh. You couldn’t believe that Bucky not only thought you’d like someone like West, but also that he had no idea how you’d felt about him.

“West is not my type at all!”.

“So then what is your type?”.

There it was. Bucky had you right where he wanted you. Now your only option was to describe your ideal man and inevitably describe Bucky. You just hoped that maybe if he got drunk enough he’d forget this whole thing by morning.

“Bucky..” you warned hoping it would be enough for him to stop. Of course it wasn’t, and it only made him want to know ever more. He leaned closer to you and in the same tone said, “(y/n)”.

You rolled your eyes but ultimately gave in. Besides, the rush of it all was undeniably hot. After taking another sip you began, “Well I like guys that take control, but know that I’m only letting them take control. Not because I’m this submissive little thing”.

Bucky felt as though his desire for you was a river, and it was overflowing. Without saying a word he just nodded his head and let you continue. He was too eager to hear what you’d say next to ruin it by being cocky.

“I want someone who doesn’t treat me like an angel who got left her on accident. Who knows that I have my own wants and desires and that those wants and desires can be as filthy as I want them to be”.

All of this was a confession that had been held in for too long, and now you couldn’t stop yourself. It gave you goosebumps to finally admit that you weren’t the good girl everyone thought you were. You were starting to feel how you had in the kitchen, but even better.

Bucky had never imagined things going as beautifully as this. He’d thought that maybe you’d admit to liking guys with dark brown hair and light eyes and he’d tease you for a little while about how that resembled him.

But he’d never thought that you’d go off and admit that you wanted someone who knew you weren’t some “too innocent for this world” girl. Part of him was convinced that this was all just another one of his dreams.

Because he’d had this dream, he’d had this dream so many times before. The two of you would be flirting with one another until the moment would shift and the tension would be too tangible to ignore.

He’d push you up against the nearest wall - or bend you over the nearest table- and whisper into your ear all the dirty thoughts he’d normally keep to himself. Only to have you smirk back at him begging for more.

“Wow, I’m not used to you shutting your pretty little mouth for a change”.

Bucky swallowed hard and tried to regain his composure. This was the moment he’d always been waiting for so he didn’t want to screw up. Bucky wouldn’t let things go to waste, “I do my best work when it’s open doll”.

You couldn't help but laugh at how persistant he was being tonight. Fuck, you were starting to find it hot. Quickly you responded with, “Bet you’re all tell and no show Barnes”. You hadn’t realized how much of an invitation that had been until the words left your lips.

Still you couldn’t take them back, and part of you didn’t want to. Eagerly Bucky teased, “Well if you shut your pretty little mouth for a change, I’ll show you”. At first you parted your lips to speak but you were so thrown back by his dominant tone of voice that you shut up instantly.

Bucky licked his lips, enjoying how it felt to watch your body language change. He’d been trained to pick up on the most minute details, smallest indications of a lie, and so he’d seen every little detail that marked your surrender.

“Mhm now that was easy princess. Might be harder to stay quiet when I have your pinned up against a wall, begging for me”.

Bucky eyed you like he were a lion and you a gazelle. He clearly got off on watching how his words affected you. This was a huge step up from your whole kitchen situation. It was no longer just meaningless flirting, it was clear he really wanted you.

“Lucky for you Barnes, I’ve never been the quiet type”.

Bucky seemed to perk up with your response. Now it was clear that the both of you wanted this. He felt his heartbeat quicken as he imagined how the rest of the night could possibly go.

Would it be just as sinfully perfect as his dreams? Or were you even more intoxicating than he could imagine? All he knew for sure was that you two were going back to his place as soon as you could to find out.

***thank you so much for taking the time and reading this fic! It means the world!! Please reblog/comment if you enjoyed because it helps me tremendously***

[dapper-ships-herself]

@dokiqx @raudrfox2

The answer changes a bit depending on the s/i, so I'm gonna start with more general and like personal and then go into my s/is.

Dazai and I both, let's say wrestle with certain feelings about life and the world around us. When it feels like you're adrift and very little matters, it helps a great deal to have someone to ground you, and that's Dazai and I for each other. When the world is cruel, we can reach out our hands and feel the warmth, and through that feel safe and real. Neither of us are used to letting ourselves be fully vulnerable to the people around us, we're always masking something, maybe not for entirely the same reasons, but we are. Our relationship is when we both let those walls fall bit by bit, letting go of fear and trepidation. He never even thought he could feel real love before, both of us had thought we weren't worthy of it.

And Dazai is a genius, he's amazing and confident in his abilities, he can see straight through pretty much anyone, so I think why would he even want me, I'm so boring and predictable, I'm not a fan of taking risks and putting myself out there. But Dazai sees all my good qualities, he appreciates my strong empathy and my compassion, he sees how even though I struggle with my own worth I put so much worth into the lives around me, and I have a fun way of thinking about a lot of things, I'm creative bright even when I think I'm not. I become like a fresh, sunny spring day for his soul. And Dazai, his hands are so stained and his mind so jaded, even as he works to redeem himself and be on the side that saves people, he thinks there's too much darkness to ever truly be washed away. But I know that even though he's done a lot of bad, what matters most is what he's doing now; he's trying so hard to be good, to move away from the darkness that only acted as a negative feedback loop for him, that was never good for a boy with a mind like his. He is actively trying to be a good man, and I remind him of that. Neither of us are ever going to be perfect, but that's fine when we're together through our flaws. And through it all, we help each other see the beautiful things to live for.

Okay, now let's go into some specifics for the s/is.

ADA! Gillian has been through some pretty deep trauma with the loss of her little sister when they were kids, and at the time she thought she'd never ever recover from that and stay in the emotionless darkness forever, but with the help of Fukuzawa and Ranpo and the other agency members, she was able to heal. Despite the guilt and trauma that still sticks to her, how easy it would be to write the world off as simply cruel and uncaring, that's not her style. She loves the world, she loves the people in it, she knows that there's darkness but that only means that the rest of them should try their hardest to spread as much love and compassion as they can to balance that out. To Dazai, her unwavering light is strange but so calming. She's so strong in her determination to protect her family and everyone and everything that needs saving, it really touches something in him. She teaches him that it's okay, that they deserve to laugh and love and live, and she helps show him how to actively view the world for it's good parts. Even if someday it's hard, some days she's sad and can't forget the past, some days she tries very hard to push away the anger that festers in her at the unfairness that abounds, she still tries and now they can stand by each other's sides and try together. And he also knows what it's like to suffer and lose the one person who's most important, and he helps her confront the guilt that still clings to her, in fact that's something mutual. And she also, even though she accepts and appreciates her ability for how it lets her help people, it's also an ability that takes away a person's free will and can cause a lot of destruction, and she is afraid of the inherent evilness of it, and though Dazai respects how she's made the concious choice to only use it to help people, he sees her fear and helps her accept it.

Mafia! Gillian and Dazai probably have the most complicated relationship of all. Neither really wanted friends or saw the use of them, but they became each other's first real friend after he joins the mafia. They connect and resonate in a much stronger and more natural way than either were really prepared for; and then they were part of the quartet with Ango and Oda too, and she loved them all. She could be quoted as saying the three of them were probably the only things keeping her sane in the Port Mafia. And then she went away on a mission for a few weeks, no contact with her friends, and suddenly that little slice of joy she had was shattered, Oda was killed, Ango had been a double agent the whole time, and Dazai had abandoned her without so much as a good bye, much less and explanation. It sent her to a dark place for a while. She wanted to hate Dazai, and she certainly felt bitter, but she couldn't bring herself to hate him; how could she, really. She disliked being in the Port Mafia, but not only does she feel she'd have no where else to go, that if she left she'd be leaving her father, Ougai, aka the only person who's ever seen to genuinely want her around and stay that way, but her ability is literally to control darkness and too much light literally causes her pain and discomfort, it's clear to her that she was born to forever stay in the world of darkness and never be able to stand in the light. When she and Dazai eventually meet again four years after he left the mafia, there's a lot of complicated feelings too work through. She's bitter and angry and can't understand why he'd leave her like that if their friendship really meant anything; Dazai thought it was the right move at the time, he justified it to himself by reasoning that he knew she felt chained to the mafia and he had to leave quickly and cleanly in order to successfully rid himself of his dark past, he couldn't risk waiting for her to come back from her mission and having to convince her. But, really, he was afraid. After all, he's convinced that everything he desires will slip through his fingers the moment he obtains it. If he tried to hold on to the happiness she brought him and selfishly took her with him, he'd only bring her ruin some other way, and he wasn't deserving of her. He genuinely does regret it though, and it's not easy for him to admit that he was wrong but he knows that this is one instance where he was so terribly wrong. They have to work through these feelings in order to get anywhere, and she also has to realize that she does have the capability to step into the light, which she does partially with Dazai's help. There's a lot of fighting through the bullshit to finally be together.

Jekyll! Gillian takes the stuff mentioned earlier about always masking some part of ourselves to the extreme. Her ability, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, literally manifests her jaded view of the world into a physical creature of chaos, aka Hyde. And she rejects Hyde hardcore, that's why she's so unstable, destructive, and difficult to control, as well as hates her in return. She puts on the sugariest of sweet faces to try and mask this darkness, but Dazai is able to see it. He recognizes her mask easily, because he's basically doing the exact same thing. Eventually, after a lot of plot haha, they're able to help each other let go of their facades a bit and better accept themselves for who they are. They find this kinship in each other that honestly makes it easier for them to let go of their guards at least a little bit. They both hold a lot of jaded darkness with themselves, and they've both done some pretty terrible things and dirtied their hands, him in the mafia and her in the Order of the Clocktower, and they were both able to break away from that to try and become better people, and that's really nice for them to be able to relate to each other.

Circus! Gillian is, true to the name of her troupe the Circus of the Disillusioned, disillusioned about much of the world. It's dirty and cruel and not on your side. But, the circus always promoted family, the whole reason Voltaire formed the troupe was to attempt to not lay there and accept their wretched fate, that they as humans should try and create at least small pockets of a world more right and colorful. And this ideal stays with her. So yeah, they're both not huge fans of the world, but she has a more innate desire to change that, and she believes it's the duty of humans to fight through and not back away from the world through means like suicide (does that make sense? Trying to word it properly). So she actually is pretty, hm, disgusted is too strong of a word to use, she clashes a lot with Dazai's suicidal jokes. And she's too tsundere and jaded herself to outright be all flowery ~I will help you~, but that sort of discussion is a theme between them early on. Their abilities are foils for each other as well, Dazai is an ability nullifier, she's an ability amplifier, and that sort of reflects their views too.

Guild! Gillian at first seems to have the most innocent view of the world, after all she's rich and spoiled by her father, Francis. And she acts rather carefree too, like someone who's always been secure and never known difficulty. But she has known pain, and there's more than a naive rich girl beneath the surface. She's cunning and knows how to read people, she's been trained in the art of business since she was a child and had it drilled into her that you must never roll over for the world. She's also been taught that she's the daughter of the great Fitzgerald, which means she's meant for greatness too, and she hides it from her father but that's left her with a desperation to prove herself and live up to a great big shadow. But she's genuinely kind too, she loves the world for it's flaws and wants to support the people in it. So yeah, they're ways of thinking clash a bit, but at the same time they work perfectly in other aspects. At first, it's more like he's interested in her for the sort of contradictions she poses, but he starts to genuinely respect her and admire how she chooses to see kindness and work for it, how she takes things in to her own hands to make the world she sees in her mind real. And she respects him for his intellect and eventually for his resolve once she learns of his past. And respect is pretty much the bud that will bloom into love.

There's a lot of fighting to find the light in the dark and acceptance of ourselves.

I hope this was all coherent and not to rambly ha.

[admiralbell]

The following is a transcript of William Bell’s acceptance speech after being nominated as the Republican candidate for President of the United States, delivered July 2, 2020.

Co-chairs, delegates, friends, and fellow Americans - I gratefully and humbly accept your nomination for President of the United States.

[cheers and applause]

I stand before you tonight as a man who understands and appreciates the immensity of what lies ahead of us. I say us, because from the very start, this campaign was never about me. It took on this challenge, well over a year ago, because I believed that Americans needed a representative in our nation’s highest office who would lead, but would not dominate. Would not purport to think that his own decisions would stand above scrutiny. I believed that America needed a President who remembered a world, a way of living, that was not clouded by the haze of years in dirty politics - where self-centered wheeling and dealing stand above the needs of the people.

I believe that this country deserves someone who will put its people first.

I come from a long tradition of men and women who understand the nature of sacrifice. Of men and women who stand up where others will not, because to them, the defense of freedom and the American way of life are more important than anything else. 

Our nation is able to be what it is today because of that bravery - that selflessness. I chose a life in the Navy because I believed in those ideals above everything else. I would gladly have died for them - in 2007, I nearly did. If given the chance, I would volunteer to do it again. And again. Because America - this great country, this community - is and will always be worth it.

In the same spirit, I will use the opportunity that has been given to me tonight, by all of you here and by the American people, to defend these ideals from the highest office, where they have too long been neglected by short-sighted politicians, who put self and party and their agendas first.

America is at a crossroads. Last year, we weathered a moment of immense tragedy. Theresa Wright was our commander-in-chief, and a woman who I always regarded with the utmost respect, despite our many differing views. Respect is a value which transcends all boundaries - parties and politics. Her death was a profound shock to me, and, indeed, to all of us.

What shocked me further was the seeming eagerness of the current administration to take this tragedy and use it as a tool to strike directly at the heart of the rights and values which make this country what it is. It seemed no time at all had passed before this administration jumped at the chance to politicize the event and use it to further a short-sighted agenda against the second amendment, despite the fact that Americans stood against such a choice. 

This, more than anything, assured me that what America needs now is someone who will place the rights guaranteed to us by our Founders above everything else - something that the President of the United States swears to do from the first moment he or she takes office.

Tonight, I promise you that I will take that oath seriously - just as seriously as I took the oath when I joined our nation’s Navy more than 30 years ago.

America deserves better. That is the belief that brought me to this stage tonight. America deserves better than what it has received for so many years. It deserves better than a White House that turns its back on personal and national security by striking out at our most valued rights, while at the same time ignoring crime. Ignoring that right now, there are people coming into this country with the intention of causing harm to its citizens. Real harm is caused every day by these policies, and it is time that someone stands up to prevent it.

It is shameful. It makes America look weak. We cannot and should not tolerate a country that looks weak - not when there is so much good in it worth fighting for. Since our founding, America has served as a beacon of freedom, of strength. If we abandon that responsibility now, what will we be left with?

As someone who has always been proud to be a member of our military, to be a leader in our nation’s military, I can tell you this - the current administration does not understand what real leadership looks like. The sacrifices and triumphs. The work and thought that goes into every decision, because you know what is at stake if you make the wrong choice. The struggle that comes with being the one to make those calls.

Let me share with you all a story which I have not shared before - what made me decide to pursue this office. In my time spent at the Pentagon, I had the privilege to serve beside a number of extraordinary men and women. One was a young man named Andrew. When I met him in 2015, Andrew was just 34 years old. He had served for several tours in Iraq, and Afghanistan. He had a family - a wife and three children, like me. He was a good husband, father, and friend, and an even better soldier. 

[A long pause here; this is difficult]

But Andrew struggled, and he didn’t get the help that he needed. And so in the fall of 2016, Andrew took his own life. I attended his funeral, as I have attended all too many similar funerals. I realized that day, and have never forgotten since, that we can do so much better. We, as a country, failed that young man - and we have been failing ourselves, in a broader sense. It’s time that we change that. I will do everything in my power to change that - for Andrew. For all the men and women who have similarly suffered. For all Americans.

To somewhat paraphrase the  immortal words of the great Republican, Abraham Lincoln: ‘It is for us, the living, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought have thus far so nobly advanced. That government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.’ When Lincoln spoke at Gettysburg, he showed that he understood the core of what America is, and what lengths the men and women of this country would go to protect its values.

I am honored to accept this nomination, so that together, we can begin to work toward making America what it can and should be - a government for the people. 

To the American people, let me say this - I stand with you. I stand for you. Unlike so many, I have not forgotten what it is like to be one of you.

I was raised in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, one of the greatest cities in this nation’s heartland. My father worked in a factory, a laborer. I don’t claim to be anything more than what I am - a man who came from one of the most typical of American experiences. I swore never to forget my roots, and I have carried that attitude with me for all of my life.

I would not be where I am today without the strength and support of my family. 

My parents, who gave me so much from the start. They taught me the value of respect, of hard work, of standing for others before yourself. They taught me to be humble. To stand up for what I believed in.

My sisters - my companions from childhood, who showed me love even when it was hardest.

My wife, who is standing with me tonight, just like she does every night. She has truly been my rock, the person who keeps my grounded, who shares every joy and every hurt with me. I am unbelievably lucky to have her supporting me, and the mission in front of me, with every step she takes, and to have her love as my guiding light.

My children. I can’t begin to explain how deeply proud of them I am, as I have always been. They are grown, now, leading their own lives, participating in their own communities, and I could not love them more. 

I am grateful, too, for everyone who supported and believed in this campaign from the start. Every staffer and every donor and every person in this country who took their chance and supported this mission with their time and energy, with their voices and their votes. I will do my absolute best to make you proud, and to carry the torch for all of us.

My fellow Americans, my mission is far from over. Tonight is only the beginning. I vow to you all, right here and right now, that I will do everything within my power to see this through to the end - to fight for this campaign, to fight for this country, and to fight for all of you, every American.

I will use every last bit of my energy to fight for a stronger America. Now, and always.

From the bottom of my heart - thank you, and God bless you. 

God bless this great country. 

Let’s get to work! Good night.