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atla-hcs-and-bakoda · 4 years ago

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Bato’s Backstory

ok so this is gonna be long, buckle up. This is my personal interpretation of bato’s backstory, it likely makes no canonical or reasonable sense, but canon does not exist and i make the rules. this is purely self-indulgent crack-treated-seriously. This is what all the other hcs, unless stated otherwise, will be set in.

Note about Bato: in my interpretation of him, he has teal/cyan eyes and darker brown hair than in the show, his skin tone has not changed.

(unfortunately this is not a zukka au, just a bakoda one. bato’s backstory is kind of an au in my mind, so when i do ship zukka, its not in this au)

(the bold letters at the beginning of the paragraphs are for accessibility)

‘Present’ (only a few months after zuko’s coronation) ages: Hakoda & Bato - 41 Kya - 42 Iroh - 65 Ozai - 47

under the cut because oh boy this is long, sorry asdfghfd

So, our story begins in the fire nation, about 59 AG, Iroh is the 25 year old crown prince, and recently had a child with his wife, Minami, on the coldest day of winter. They named him Shui, and they, quite frankly, spoilt him with their love. Minami stayed in the castle while Iroh was at war, and always sang to Shui while putting his hair up or putting him to bed.

One day, when Shui was 9, Azulon decided to take his family to Ember Islands on vacation, like the royal family has been doing for generations. However, there was a bad storm, and the ship got thrown near the south. Little Shui followed Iroh onto the deck, and fell overboard when a big wave hit the other side of the boat, rocking it and making him fall.

The royal family and crew tried to save him, but the waves dragged him under, and once the storm cleared, he was presumed dead. Iroh and Minami mourned the loss of their first son, who died so young that he hardly got to live life at all. Ozai mourned to a minor extent, as he was 15 at the time and wasn’t as bad as he is in the present, but not for as long as Shui’s parents, or grandfather, did.

Meanwhile, in the southern water tribe, little 9 year old Hakoda was wandering down at the seaside with his father when he came across a young boy unconscious in the snow, the cold water nearly freezing him to death. His father hurried him back to the tribe with the young boy’s body. For days, Hakoda sat beside the bed, rarely moving from the spot, keeping watch on the mystery boy. And eventually, he woke up.

Hakoda introduced himself once the boy was fully awake, but when asked his name, the boy said “i...i don’t remember...” So, instead, Hakoda decided to pick a name for him; Bato. The boy agreed to the name, and after a week, got adopted by one of the tribesmen, a close friend of Hakoda’s father. After that, the two children were an unstoppable duo, they did many successful pranks on everyone, including Hakoda’s mother, Kanna.

However, every once in a while, Bato would blurt out something without thinking, and when questioned, wouldn’t be able to remember it at all. For instance, Bato and Hakoda were once watching the stars late at night, when Bato pointed at a constellation and called it Druk. Hakoda laughed, but Bato insisted that was its name. Hakoda asked where Bato learned that, since thats not what their tribe calls it, and Bato had no recollection of learning it.

(This continued well into teenagehood, when Bato realised at the ripe old age of 14 that he was, in fact, in love with his best friend. He didn’t come out for a long time, in fear of his tribe’s reaction. Deep down he knew they’d accept him with open arms, but his anxiety said otherwise.)

At 12, there was a fire nation raid while Bato was at the seaside, and he recognised both the ship and flag instantly despite not being told prior about the Southern Raiders. He ran to tell the chief, and thanks to his quick reaction, saved the tribe to a degree. Many waterbenders still died, however.

At 15, Bato and Hakoda went ice-dodging with their respective fathers- and eachother. Hakoda recieved the mark of the wise, and Bato recieved the mark of the brave.

One night at 15, they were cuddling in Hakoda’s bed (because thats what best friends do, of course. its cold, no other reason, totally not) when Hakoda noticed Bato’s eye color; Teal. not the regular water tribe blue, not a dark blue, or even a light blue, but pure Teal. Although hakoda would still argue to this day that bato’s eyes are cyan. When questioned about his eye color, Bato shrugged and brushed it off as an uncommon trait. But Hakoda realised nobody else in the tribe had cyan eyes, just blue.

Then, at 16, the boys got into a bad avalanche that resulted in Hakoda getting knocked out. Bato woke up hours later, and pulled his best friend out of the snow. He realised Hakoda wasnt breathing, and started to cry, taking his gloves off to cling to Hakoda and try feel the warmth of his pulse, to no avail. He closed his eyes and cried, when his hands lit on fire. When he realised what he just did, he put the flame out and made a plan, carrying Hakoda to the dog sled quite a bit from the avalanche, and set them on course for the tribe while he carefully lit his hands back on fire after a few attempts, and kept Hakoda warm.

Just before they got to the tribe, Hakoda started breathing again, shallowly, and his father quickly took both of them to the healer when they arrived back. This time, it was Bato who sat beside the bed and waited for Hakoda to wake up, refusing to eat much until his friend woke up.

He never told anyone about his bending.

A few months later, Hakoda met and started dating Kya, and Bato’s heart broke. he was happy for hakoda, he really was, but deep down it still hurt him to see him with someone else.

At 20, Hakoda’s father went off to war. At 22, Hakoda became Chief, and Bato became the second-in-command.

At 23, Hakoda proposed to Kya after like 20 failed attempts at carving a betrothal necklace. Bato’s heart broke a tiny bit more, but he ignored it to be happy for his friend. Bato had to sleep alone for the first time since he joined the southern water tribe, he didn’t sleep much when alone.

2 years later, at 25, Sokka was born, and Bato babysat him a lot when Hakoda and Kya were busy. Bato admittedly vented to baby sokka quite a bit, and showed him very minor firebending tricks he practiced during sleepless nights, which was most nights.

At 26, Katara was born, and Bato now babysat two little children, both of which he adored with all his heart. He himself is infertile, so Katara and Sokka were the closest thing he had to his own children.

Things went mostly peacefully for years, until 34, when Kya got killed. After the raid, Hakoda wouldnt eat for days at a time, completely depressed and exhausted. Bato would offer him small plates of food and sit with him, letting him vent or cry or whatever Hakoda needed to do to get the stress and pain out. He also looked after Sokka and Katara while Hakoda couldn’t, and usually slept next to Hakoda’s bed, watching over the chief, along with his kids, as both children were terrified to sleep by themselves, Hakoda was scared of losing them, and Bato couldn’t bare the thought of not keeping them safe.

After years of recovering, Hakoda eventually had to head out to war with the men of the tribe, Bato included. Bato’s heart broke watching Sokka beg to come with them, but he knew it was for the best.

3 months after leaving, Bato came out to Hakoda in the Chieftan’s private room in the boat, and Hakoda accepted him with open arms, and promised to not tell anyone until Bato was ready. Bato fell a lot more in love.

At 5 months, he started very carefully dropping hints to Hakoda that he likes him, slightly-too-friendly-to-be-platonic compliments, cuddling him in hakoda’s room “because its cold” (they were nowhere near cold climates), and other vaugely homoerotic stuff like that. All of it went over Hakoda’s head.

(At 6 months he straight up told Hakoda at night on the deck “Your my stars, Hakoda. Whenever i’m lost, you always bring me home.”, and Hakoda responded “Thanks Bato, I’m happy your my friend too.”, Bato stayed awake all night in utter disbelief. He still teases Hakoda about it.)

1 year after leaving, Bato realised he might not be as much of a guy as he thought he was. He silently decided to put that train of thoughts on hold until the war was over. (In his heart he knew the war would never be over until the fire nation won. especially with sozin’s comet only a year away and- he doesnt remember what sozin’s comet is.)

When his arm got burned, he burned the soldier right back with his good arm out of sight of everyone else, and managed to shove them overboard before the pain hit him. He’s always had a high pain tolerance. After the fight ended, Hakoda carried Bato to the abbey, and they had a tearful goodbye, where Bato quietly confessed his love as Hakoda walked out the room. Hakoda thought about it until he saw Bato again.

When they reunited, Hakoda confessed his love back to Bato, and they kissed right in the open, it took a lot of self control for the other tribesmen to not cheer, they had known for literally forever, the only person in the tribe who didnt know bato was in love with hakoda was hakoda.

Somehow, it took until the war was over for Sokka and Katara to find out they had a step-dad. They already considered Bato to be their second dad, so not much exactly changed.

The day of Zuko’s coronation, Bato got talking with Iroh, and when the topic came to children, Iroh explained how both his sons were dead, one dying at 9 from a storm, and the other dying at 20 from war. When Iroh says his youngest (eldest?) son’s name, Shui, Bato remembers the storm, and Iroh notices Bato’s rare cyan eyes.

They have a nice reunion, although Bato has to sit down for a while to process all this and figure out his family tree. He decides not to tell Hakoda yet, but he does spend a while walking through the palace with Iroh and remembering parts of his early childhood. He cant bring himself to go into the room of firelord portraits.

A month after zuko’s coronation, he sits Hakoda down and explains that he’s a bender, and he’s apparently fire nation royalty. Hakoda gets temporarily mad, but eventually calms down and hugs Bato when his friend told him that his firebending saved both himself and hakoda, and that he would never be like his forefathers or uncle. Hakoda takes a while to fully accept it, but eventually warms up (heh) to the concept, and continues to use Bato as a personal space heater.

Two months after zuko’s coronation, he finally decides to tackle the “i’m not as much as a guy as i thought” issue, and he decides to go to Iroh and Toph for advice over tea, where Iroh suggests some wise stuff, but Toph simply explains what non-binary is, and suggests Bato may be Demiboy. (Although Bato prefers to call himself Demiguy, he doesnt like being called a boy) The Gender Crisis continues for about another week, and takes another half a month for him to come out to Hakoda. Bato was somewhat internally afraid he wouldnt be counted as one of the men, but Hakoda was overwhelmingly supportive, and admitted that he knew Bato wasn’t exactly cis, he just never knew the words to use.

Bato spends a while at the palace after the coronation to get his bearings on being half fire nation and a prince, he learns purple is a very good color on him.(Hakoda later jokes that it was foreshadowing for Bato realising he was enby, as he wasnt blue or red)

He bonds quite a bit with Zuko, Iroh, and Toph during his stay, but eventually goes back to the southern water tribe, the place he truly considers home. Although, he does go and visit the fire nation every once in a while. He even goes to Ember Islands and has a vacation day with both of his families.

After about two years, He finally makes a betrothal necklace for Hakoda, with the symbol of the water tribe on it and flames coming up from the waves, both of them totally cry happy tears when he proposes privately under the light of the aurora.

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claudia1829things · 3 years ago

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"THE CLOCKS" (2009) Review

"THE CLOCKS" (2009) Review While perusing the list of novels written by Agatha Christie between 1957 and 1973, I noticed that only five of them featured Belgian detective Hercule Poirot as the main detective. Five out of sixteen novels during this period. Considering how the author used to churn out Poirot novels and short stories like nobody's business in the previous decades, I could not help but wonder if the author's interest in the Belgian detective was on the wane.

This certainly seemed to be the case for her 1963 novel, "The Clocks". Although Poirot was the investigator who solved the mystery, he barely played a role in this investigation. Major supporting characters like Colin Lamb and Inspector Richard Hardcastle visited the crime scenes and questioned the suspects and other witnesses. They fed the information to Poirot, who exercised his "little grey cells" and solved the case. This is one reason why the 1963 novel was not a particular favorite of mine. Thankfully, the 2009 adaptation of "The Clocks" proved to be a different kettle of fish. Unlike his literary version for this tale, actor David Suchet's Poirot was, without a doubt, the mystery's main character. Although the 2009 television movie, "THE CLOCKS", provided some minor changes to Christie's novel, it also featured two major changes. I have already commented on how Poirot had a bigger role (as he should) in this television adaptation. The setting for "THE CLOCKS" also underwent a major change. Instead of being set during the heyday of the Cold War, the 2010 television movie was set near the end of the 1930s, with Europe (and eventually the rest of the world) on the cusp of World War II. And the narrative's B-plot reflected this. In "THE CLOCKS", the character of Colin Lamb has been changed to Colin Race, conveying the idea that he is the son of of an old friend of Poirot's. And instead of being an MI-5 (Special Branch) agent investigating a pro-Communist spy ring, Colin is a Royal Navy officer working for MI-6 and investigating a possible pro-Nazi spy ring in Dover. Also, the character of Richard "Dick" Hardcastle has become a slightly xenophobic police officer, who resented Poirot's presence in the investigation. Despite these changes, the core of Christie's narrative managed to survive for this adaptation. "THE CLOCKS" began as a spy story in which MI-6 operative Colin Race finds himself investigating the theft of classified documents from a naval base at Dover Castle. Apparently, Colin's girlfriend had spotted the thief/German spy, but was killed by a speeding car before she could apprehend the thief. Colin's girlfriend left a clue, leading Colin to a neighborhood in Dover. Upon reaching one house on a street shaped like a crescent, a young woman named Sheila Webb races out of it, screaming that she had found a murdered man inside, along with a collection of clocks. Colin seeks Poirot's help to solve the murder mystery, in case the murder proves to be connected with the spy ring he had been investigating and his girlfriend's death. As I had earlier stated, I am not a big fan of Christie's 1963 novel. While some might find the idea of Poirot being reduced to a minor character who solves the mystery in an armchair rather amusing, I did not. I could not, especially if this was supposed to be a "Poirot" mystery. And as I had earlier pointed out, screenwriter Stewart Harcourt director Charlie Palmer ensured that Poirot would be the main character in this adaptation. I also enjoyed how the narrative allowed Poirot and Colin's search for the spy ring and missing document overshadow their efforts to find the killer responsible for the mystery man's death, along with the deaths of two other characters - Edna Brent, a typist and colleague of Sheila Webb's; and Merlina Riva, a former stage actress who claimed to be the widow of the dead man discovered by Colin and Sheila. Throughout the story, those viewers unfamiliar with Christie's novel might find themselves wondering if Sheila was responsible for the deaths, if the deaths had anything to do with the German spy ring, or if the three victims had been killed for another reason. Overall, I believe "THE CLOCKS" is a solid adaptation of Christie's novel, but also an improvement. However, there is one aspect of Harcourt and Palmer's adaptation that I do not regard as an improvement. I refer to the character of Colin Race. One, this secondary lead character came off as less than intelligent than his literary counterpart. Colin was able to solve the mystery of the spy ring without Poirot's help. And two, in the television movie, he struck me as a slightly shallow man who was able to transfer his affections from one woman to another within a few days. I found this rather tacky. I believe Harcourt's screenplay made the mistake of having Colin involved with the doomed Fiona Hanbury, whose activities led him to another clue regarding the spy ring, at the beginning of the story. Worse, it did not take Colin very long to develop romantic feelings for Sheila Webb after meeting her. And he met Sheila in less than a week after Fiona's death. Even when he was still mourning Fiona's death, he was falling in love with Sheila. Really? This is just tackiness beyond belief. Colin's romantic relationships in this movie made him look like a shallow idiot who seemed to have this need for romance in his life 24/7. The television movie's production values struck me as very impressive. I thought Jeff Tessler's production designs did a great job in recreating Dover circa 1939. His work was ably supported by Miranda Cull's art direction and Sheena Napier's costume designs. I have mixed feelings about Peter Greenhalgh's cinematography. On one hand, I found movie's photography very colorful and beautiful. In fact, I thought it did justice to the production's locations in London and Kent. But I did not care for the hazy veneer that I felt almost spoiled the photography. I found it an unnecessary device for indicating that this story was set in the past. And it reminded me of numerous period dramas in the 1970s that also used this camera device . . . unnecessarily. I certainly had no problems with the movie's cast. David Suchet, as always, gave a sharp and elegant portrayal of Hercule Poirot. In fact, his performance reinforced my relief that the screenwriter and director had given Poirot a bigger presence in this adaptation than in Christie's novel. Despite my irritation with the Colin Race character, I cannot deny that Tom Burke gave an exceptionally skillful performance. He almost made me believe in the plausibility of Colin falling in love with one woman, while still grieving for another. I was very impressed by Jaime Winstone's portrayal of the ambiguous Sheila Webb. I thought she did an excellent job in conveying both the character's desperate need for everyone to believe in her innocence and her occasional lapses in morality. Phil Daniels was excellent as the slightly aggressive and xenophobic Inspector Richard "Dick" Hardcastle. Lesley Sharp gave a very subtle performance as Sheila's no-nonsense boss Miss Martindale. And I was very impressed with Anna Massey's performance as Miss Pebmarsh, the blind owner of the house that contained the dead man and the actress's final role before her death. Like Winstone, Massey did an excellent job of portraying a very complicated and ambiguous character, who was haunted by the deaths of her sons during World War I. The television movie also featured excellent performances from Geoffrey Palmer (father of the director), Tessa Peake-Jones, Jason Watkins, Beatie Edney, Abigail Thaw, Guy Henry, Stephen Boxer, and Frances Barber. In the end, I believe that "THE CLOCKS" was a solid adaptation of Agatha Christie's 1963 novel, thanks to a first-rate script by Stewart Harcourt and first-rate direction by Charlie Palmer. My only true complaint was their handling of the Colin Race character. The television movie also featured excellent performances by a talented cast that included David Suchet, Anna Massey and Jaime Winstone.

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shinobirain24 · 4 years ago

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Water and Ice- Chapter 5: Petrified Huntsmen

The huntsmen continue their trail the next morning. Drey had to put out the fire to not attract any enemies behind. It was very quiet on their trail. Neptune and Weiss at some point had left their teams for something personal. Since both of them are looking for their older siblings. The last thing they wanted is to greet them with welcome arms. Neptune keeps looking at her without paying attention to the path ahead. After what happened in the previous night, he felt the need to make up for scaring her.

He may be a flirt as a teenager, but his one goal is to find his brother and bring him back home. But the trouble is, is the man in the photo really Jupiter? Or is he just imagining things? Either way, he has to find out himself.

Both began to see their fellow huntsmen teaming up. But they don't where to blend in since they already took off from their teams. So Neptune walks over to Weiss to see if she can use some assistance. "Hey, Weiss." He spoke. She did not bother looking back at him as she remains at focus to finding the Black Thunderbolts. "I was thinking, how come you're not in a group or something?"

"This isn't a training mission, Neptune. This is serious, if the Thunderbolts are on the island according to rumor, then they must be up to something and I just have to find it. Besides, this is something personal so I can't tell yet."

"Didn't you say that because your sister is missing, they might have something to with her gone?" Neptune recalled.

"Oh, right. What about you? Is there any reason you left your team?" She asked.

"I have my reasons, but I can't say." He replied. Not wanting to reveal the fact that there is a possibility that Jupiter was hidden for a while and joined the Thunderbolts for any explanation. Weiss stared at him without a word.

Is this about the nightmares you're having last night? For all I know, Sun would look after him like a brother. But now that he's here alone. There's a chance that I can find out why going solo. Weiss thought back about the night Neptune waking up in a shock calling out the the name she never heard of. Jupiter? Just who is he? A relative, maybe? Poor Neptune, something must be bothering him.

"Look Weiss, I'm sorry about last night. Just having weird dreams. That's all." Neptune apologized. Not wanting to make it look like he's having personal problems.

"It's fine. I shouldn't have snoop around in the first place. I was just startled by you screaming."

"Do you really have to bring that up?" Neptune inquired grabbing the back of his head in embarrassment. Then roll his eyes to her. "Say, do you wanna team up with me? Because everyone else seem to know each other and we both left out teams." Weiss looked down to the ground to have second thoughts. She wanted to handle the mission alone, but never expected to have this many huntsmen to take the mission. But it could've been a fair share of lien. But why this many huntsmen. Usually only one or a team of huntsmen and huntresses can apply for a mission requests on their scrolls which is now an app. But she hated being alone in some ways. "Alright, you can come. At least it's better than tagging along with those dolts." She gestured at Rick and Drey who're busy punching each other's shoulders, which she finds them annoying. Even as adults, they still acted like children to find the way out of boredom.

"No kidding. Trust me, these are not the type of people you want to get friendly with." Neptune agrees. "When they throw you off the pier."

"I've taken you've known these two?" Weiss asked.

"Yeah, they tried to drown me once. And we were just kids."

"They did what?"

"They failed anyway. Sun already gave them a taste of their own medicine anyway." Neptune chuckled.

"Still, they shouldn't have done that a long time ago. You're lucky you're still here if Sun haven't came by." Weiss exclaimed. She then turned to Rick and Drey when they looked back with a death glare. Weiss began to notice something isn't right about the two. But she looks away to avoid suspicion and pulled Neptune along. "Come on, we have a lot of catching up to do." Walking faster away from their fellow huntsmen. Neptune is confused for why they're walking away. "Hey, wait a minute!" Weiss then found a private cave where nobody can see them. She checks outside if there's anybody listening or hidden. But no one. "Okay, listen. Can you keep this a secret?" She asked. Neptune was mentioned that he was too gullible to be keeping secrets. But this one, it seems to serious for her to keep it to herself. Since he's a nice guy, he'll have his chances of finding his brother for any theories.

"Sure." He nods.

"Have you seen Rick and Drey have been looking at us and the other huntsmen with us, lately?"

"Not that I know of. I tried not to cause a scene with any of them."

"There's something not right about them. Just when we left the camp, they started to write things down every time they're observing us. Just last night after we woke up, I noticed them taking notes on their next move. And these notes, is the list of names of those taking the mission, including us. Then reading our huntsmen licenses."

"Whoa. Talk about an invasion of privacy."

"Clearly. I think they're up to something, which is why I am telling you this. All of us could be at risk if we keep going."

"I never took them for a couple of spies. Now that you've mentioned it, I don't like the looks of things. We should tell somebody. Anybody."

"We're not sure who to trust, yet. Unless somebody is selling us out, you're the only one I can count on, can I trust you on this one?" Now Neptune began to grow suspicious of Rick and Drey since they arrived at the island. They gave him the same glare since they were in their early teens, and they also have given the same look like he's their primary target. Saving the other huntsmen to say the least.

10 years ago.

In Mistral Hospital, a young Neptune was bedridden after fainting, and still hasn't woken up. While his mother, Lydia, and his father, Saturn, are sitting in the waiting room. Saturn holds Lydia into his arms as she not only worried for their younger son, but also mourning for the loss of their oldest. Sun was forced to wait outside of the room since he's not a family member, but keeps pacing back and forth, lamenting himself of how he has talked his best friend into sneaking out on a mission. And caused him to inadvertently create a disaster. While Neptune's sister, Ceres, a doctor who graduated from a medical school, cares for her unconscious little brother. She then saw her brother opening his eyes, while his heart rate is still normal.

"C-Ceres?" He began. While still feeling lightheaded as he had been passed out for 6 days. Not having eaten enough, but having a tube to keep him alive.

"How're you feeling, buddy?" She asked in concern.

"I don't know. How long had I been out?"

"6 days. Do you remembered what happened before you got here?"

Neptune thought back about the mission he and Sun snuck into. Then the image dawned to him when he remembered the cold feeling in the depth of the seas where Jupiter tried to reach him. The snapped back to reality.

"No, Jupiter!" Neptune tries to get up to look for him, but Ceres held him down to keep still. "Neptune, no. You need some rest." Said Ceres. But he keeps fighting it to be released from her grip. But Ceres isn't giving up this easily.

"I have to, he could be alive! He has to be! This is all my fault, I'm the one who messed everything up! I'm the reason he's gone!" He shouted.

"Somebody get the sedatives, stat!" Ceres called out to the staff. As one of the nurses hands her a needle while two other staff held him back down. Ceres gently injected the sedative onto his right arm. "Calm down, Neptune!" She pleaded while still injecting until she pulls off the needle.

Neptune keeps pushing his arms out until the drug have seeped into his veins, giving him a headache. His eyes are giving up to stay opened. His vision got all blurry. That is when his whole body limp from the injection.

"Jupiter..." He said before passing out once again.

10 years after.

Survivor's guilt, that's what everybody have been told when one individual or two survives and the other doesn't. That's what psychiatrists can say to one after the other patient. Neptune would always deny that he isn't afraid of the water, but when near it, he cannot touch it. Whenever he sees it, he gets taken aback. Other times, he sees his older brother. But was he really here, or is it a figment of his imagination. Either way, he was always here, giving him the silent treatment. And a single glare into his eyes. The same eyes that he and Neptune would eventually turn away. A reminder of the day he made a mistake. While he and Weiss are still walking to the east side of the island, Neptune looks up and sees the same blue-haired man with the scar, just as he remembers. But he still isn't sure if it's him standing on a rock. He then shook his head and looked up again, to find him gone.

"What's wrong?" Weiss asked.

"Must be my imagination. Thought I saw something." He replied.

"Maybe you're right..." Weiss paused when she bumped into something, or rather someone without looking. "Ow! Watch where you going, you..." She paused again when she saw a statue of a man with hair tied down, a cowboy robe, hat and black boots. They both immediately recognized him as one of the huntsmen who joined the mission. But how did he get petrified into stone in the first place? What did he saw in his moments before this happened? It frightened Weiss very high, she screamed in terror. Neptune then looked at the statue and looked horrified as well. "What the?!" It's not just him, but four more of them have been turned to stone.

"How did this happened?!" Weiss exclaimed. Neptune observes the petrified huntsmen, and began to realize something.

"Call me crazy, but I think there has to be someone on this island. Someone with a semblance capable by turning people into stone."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Like I said, it's going to sound crazy. But there's somebody I knew when I was younger. Somebody who I thought was dead."

"You're right. That does sound crazy." She sighed. Then they heard rattling like a snake's rattle tail. They then pull out their weapons. "Who's there?! Show yourself!" She demanded. Then landed a woman with green hair, with a rattlesnake tail on her bottom back. Her lips seem to possess some fangs while her tongue hissed with delight for more victims. She has black visors, a leather jacket with a lightning bolt emblem on, and a leotard underneath. "If you're not careful, that's where you'll also die." She said cunningly.

"Who are you?!" Neptune demanded. Then another huntsman charged at her without thinking of what she's capable of. "I've got you now, Thunderbolt! Argh!" He yelled, letting his pride get the best of him. But she turned to him and lifted her visors up to her forehead. Her eyes glowed red, staring at him dead in the eye before he can slash her with a sword. Just 7 inches close, and the huntsman. He gasped when he saw death have came, but not in a real way. Instead he was turned to stone. She then called on her scroll for another person to call. "Roth, you're up."

"Wait a minute...Roth?" Neptune then began to put his finger around his chin, as the name "Roth" came back to him. He may not know him much, but someone his brother knew for a time being as a Haven Student. Then he put two and two together. The real reason for why she wears sunglasses in the first place. Jupiter have warned him about looking into her eyes. Red as death and blood itself, once you saw her eyes, you'll see nothing but black. "It can't be...Zerena?" Weiss glanced at him with shock that he managed to recognized the mysterious woman. "You know her?!"

"How surprising, you have us all figured it out." Said Zerena. Roth then attacked from behind. Before he could hit, Weiss bounced him out of the way with a glyph. Zerena then lifts off her visors again. "Watch out, look at her and you'll be turned too! Shield your eyes!" He warns, Weiss did not hesitate to cover her eyes, and so does Neptune. She have been blindfolded before when her sister had her to practice her senses by hearing. "Well then, it looks like I'll have to teach you both a lesson." Zerena stretched out her whip and lashed it at Neptune then tumbled out of the way and does it again when she came at him way too fast. Her whip isn't just any other whip, but it can break anything harder then stone. Which is what men feared most about her. Roth then moves at the same speed as Weiss. Neither of them would wince an inch of a scratch. Making zig-zag moves to cross blades. When Roth lunges forward to put his sword in the ground to make a huge blow. But Weiss uses her glyph to leap high from the attack before it can strike.

Knocking him out with a slash from the air. Neptune still tries to figure it out on how to take Zerena down without getting struck or be turned to stone. So he managed to get close to her in order to knock her away, but she already recovered back to her feet. Putting her whip back and blocks every swing he makes and jumps back to grab her whip again and swung it on his Tri-hard. Wrapping it around very strongly as she pulls with with her might. But Neptune pulls back while the fight continues.

"What's the matter, coward?! All you need to do is fight back!" Zerena shouts.

"No! This isn't you! Whatever it is you're doing, it ends today!" Neptune said.

"That's what they all say, but face it, it doesn't end here!" Zerena snapped.

"Tell us, did Drey and Rick have anything to do with you?!" Weiss said. While avoiding Roth. But they aren't answering.

"Why would we give a damn, when we're being used? You don't know what it was like the whole world." Snarled Roth.

"Looks like they aren't giving up this easily."

"What happened to you guys over a few years? You have to tell us!" Pleaded Neptune. "Is my brother, with you?! Is he involved in this?!" Weiss is shocked to hear that he has a brother and never mentioned this to anyone else. She could see why he took this mission without Sun, Scarlet, Sage and Nolan. "Answer!" But they aren't responding. That is, until a spotlight appeared. Forcing Zerena to cover her eyes. Putting her shades back on. "Dammit! They found us! Roth, call Jupiter and Tyler! We need to retreat at once!" Ordered Zerena.

"And those two?"

"We'll let them be...for now." They escaped before the authorities from Atlas arrived. "Hey, wait! Get back here!" Neptune tries to go after them, but Weiss pulls him back. The ship has landed and six of the Atlesian soldiers including a militarized woman with white hair tied to a lower bun and icy blue eyes, just like Weiss. With a stylized cap with a silver pin of the symbol representing Atlas. And a trench suit. To her surprise, it was her sister, Winter. But how was she present after the rumor was spread? Did she make that up to lure any criminals in sight?

"Winter, you're alive. I am so glad you're safe. I was beginning to worry. When I heard that you ran from Atlas. I was worried something bad must've happened to you." Weiss sighed in relief. But Winter didn't seem to react to those words. She may be a serious type of person, but not in a coldly manner. Since the battle in Atlas. But she then glared at Neptune and turns back to her younger sister. "Weiss, I am sorry that I worried you. But the mission you took right now is a trap set for the individuals responsible for the embargo sinking. This however led me to him." She then walks over to the blue-haired huntsman. Which made him nervous considering how female soldiers have a streak of dignity. Weiss is confused for why she is talking about him.

Winter then pulled out a hair sample in a plastic bag that has a similar color. And show it to him. "Are you certain it was him?" She asked to one of the soldier and nodded. "DNA evidence doesn't lie, sir." Then looks back at him.

"Very well. Neptune Vasilias, you are hereby under arrest." This shocks them both.

"Wait what?! What for?!"

"For the interference of the dust exportation, 12 counts of kidnapping. And 178 counts of murder. Including thievery." Winter replied. Weiss stands in front of him for his defense. "Winter, wait. You can't just accuse someone for something he didn't know. Why would you think it was him?" Asked Weiss.

"Stand aside, sister. This hair sample has his DNA left behind in one of the sunken ships for the delivery to Vale. On top of it. It was a match." She then turned to one of the soldiers.

"Restrain him." She orders pointing at Neptune. "And escort my sister to the ship."

"Yes, sir." Before they can handcuff him, Weiss grabs Neptune's wrist and formed multiple platforms to speed up and escape. Saving themselves from conflict. "Weiss!" Winter calls but it was too late.

They stopped by another bay in hopes to escape. They stopped to catch their breathe before Weiss glares at him. "So that's why you took this mission alone. You never mentioned you have a brother. Now he's out there making you the fall guy here! If you have had your team with you, none of this would've have happened!" She scolded. But Neptune isn't listening. He walks away, but she catches up with him grabbing his wrist once again to stop him from getting himself killed. "Where do you think you're going?!" She demands, but he didn't look back.

"Going to find my brother." He replied without a second thought and tried to pull away. "Alone. I cannot risk anyone else I cared about, not you, not my team. Or our friends. It's best if you can go back to Atlas with your sister."

"No way, I am not going to let you get yourself killed!"

"I have to! It's my problem, not yours!"

"Let me help you!"

"No!"

"Why not?!"

Neptune then snaps back turning to her. "Because I'm a coward! Okay?! Everything that Jupiter has done, was because of me! I'm the reason he's been declared dead and him going rogue!" This shocks Weiss as she steps back in response to the tone of his voice. He panted for exhaustion of rage and anguish. "What has happened to you?" Weiss teared up. He then calms down for a second time. Then looks at her sympathetically, "I'm sorry. I don't want to put anyone in danger because of me. Just do me a favor and go back to Atlas, for your sake." He turns away and never looks back again. Weiss stares at him, worried that something will happened to him if he doesn't refrain himself without thinking.

#Iceberg RWBY #Icy Seas #weiss schnee #neptune vasilias #Arctic Ocean #jupiter vasilias #winter schnee #weiss x neptune

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we-are-the-rebellion · 4 years ago

Text

Everything Is Gonna Be Fine - File 006

Date: 3/5/215

Incoming signal: Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me? Is there anyone in the wasteland listening to me? Fuck, this is hopeless… We don’t even know if people are alive out there, we’ve never left the region because of the horror stories we’ve heard. CeeCee are you sure? …Yeah, right. Ahem! I’m Nate, I’m from the Eastern OQ region, and for the last ten years I’ve been fighting in, well to put it lightly, a pretty nasty civil war. The group I was with has been mostly killed or captured and our leader is missing, presumed dead. Please, if someone is out there and can hear this, we need supplies. Wait what’s- Shit! CeeCee get down they found-

Outgoing message: Nous vous entendons. Sur routre chemin.

__________________________

Date: 8/10/214

Location: Rebel base, Toronto, Ontario-Quebec Region

Nate wanted a nap. More specifically, he wanted to nap with Kenji. He yawned and shuffled into his room, feeling drained. He noticed a small piece of paper on his pillow. It was a note.

To Nate.

I’m busy today.

Happy anniversary.

Nate smiled. He had forgotten, today was his tenth anniversary with Kenji. How had he forgotten but Kenji had remembered? Nothing made sense. Well now he had to go and find Kenji and force him to come nap with him. Yes, his main goal was still to have a nap.

Kenji got back to his quarters about half an hour after Nate found the note. He looked completely beaten down.

“Hey Ken.” he greeted, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist. He didn’t reply. “You tired?” Kenji put his left hand over Nate’s arm.

“Tired doesn’t begin to describe it.” he muttered.

“Want to go to bed early today?” Nate asked, softly kissing Kenji’s cheek. Kenji sighed and nodded slowly. Nate guided his boyfriend to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed with him. “Thanks for the note this morning.” he chuckled, leaning his head against Kenji’s shoulder. Kenji didn’t say anything, and it was starting to concern him. He put his hand on his cheek and tilted his head to look at him. “Hey, what happened? Are you alright?” Kenji put his hand over Nate’s and closed his eyes.

“The last mission... It was a shitshow.” he mumbled. Nate frowned.

“I know... You told me.”

“A lot of people got killed.”

Nate sat up, cupping Kenji’s face and kissing his lips softly. He pulled away, leaning their foreheads together.

“It isn’t your fault, Ken.” he whispered, stroking his thumb over his face, his beard lightly scratching his hand.

“Maybe not, but I fucked up.” Nate leaned both of them back onto the bed, cuddling him, rubbing his shoulders, trying to get him to relax. Kenji felt tense, and Nate couldn’t help but feel his heart break a little. The last mission hadn’t just been a shitshow, it was the worst mistake they had ever made. Support for the rebels was crushed, morale was non existent, and Lewis... He was still technically just missing, but nobody expected him to come back. Nate had needed a week to be alone and mourn the boy who he considered to be his son. He had barely seen Kenji in that time, not because he blamed him for what happened, but because they had both agreed that Kenji’s abrasive and unempathetic response to loss wasn’t what Nate needed. Now he was back, and Kenji clearly wasn’t dealing with things well.

“I know you fucked up, but other people fucked up too.” Nate said gently. He sighed, trying to put words to what he was feeling. “Since even before I met you, you’ve been doing this. Fighting. Risking your life, risking my life, risking... risking everyone’s lives. I was shocked when I found out you and Zander were the rebel leaders everyone was talking about, and for a moment I thought you two must have been completely fucked up.” He paused, licking his lips and brushing a loose strand of hair out of his eyes. “But good things happened because of the things you guys did. Things are changing, getting better.” Kenji pulled away, sitting up and putting his face in his hand.

“Nothing is going to get better because of this. People are dead, my people are dead. The elites have a perfect reason to demonize us now, nobody wants to believe in us. We proved to them that we’re the evil, violent monsters they said we were.” he growled. He sighed and stood up. “You should have stayed away. This is just going to get worse.”

__________________________

Date: 13/6/215

Location: Prison Complex, Ottowa, Ontario-Quebec Region

Zander hit the floor and for a split second everything seemed to go still. Quiet, even. Nate could only see him lying there, only hear the quiet, understated "thud" that he made as his broken body hit the cold steel. Nate could only focus on the emptiness inside him. What was this feeling and why did it keep coming back? It could barely be called a feeling, it was more a lack of feeling. He was too tired to feeling sad, or angry, or hurt, or hopeless. There was just... nothing. Nothing inside him, nothing to make him feel anything. Just empty. That's all Nate could focus on as he saw his best friend collapse. The little spark of hope he had felt earlier, hope to get out of here, was gone. It went out at the same that Zander had stopped running. Now he was just stuck feeling apathetic and confused, staring and not being able to process the real world around him. Gunshots were quiet, footsteps were deafening, the space around him felt so big it was crushing. He could've stayed in that haze forever if he was allowed. He almost wanted it. Nothing was better than hurting.

__________________________

Date: 9/10/214

Location: Rebel base, Toronto, Ontario-Quebec Region

Nate stormed into Kenji's room. He didn't consider it "his" room, or "their" room anymore. It was only Kenji's. Kenji had dragged him into this life, Kenji had brought him out into this fucking field, Kenji had killed his son. There was no sympathy for him anymore.

"You bastard." he hissed, yanking Kenji out of his desk chair and to his feet. "You lied to me." Kenji scowled, shoving him back.

"I never lied to you." he snapped. Nate felt his rage burning behind his eyes, stinging out hot tears.

"You fucking knew that Lewis was in danger! You knew that he was going to die!" he screamed, grabbing Kenji's collar and forcing him to look him in the eye. "You... You hid that message from me... He was telling you how to fix it! He was telling you that you didn't have to fucking kill anyone, and you just ignored him!" Kenji wrenched his hands off his shirt and pushed him away.

"When he signed up to be one of us, he knew he might have to die one of us." he growled, stalking off towards the door. Nate gritted his teeth and stood in his way.

"Fuck off, you can't just say that kind of shit when I have proof that he didn't have to die!" Kenji rolled his eyes and Nate felt so angry that he couldn't just hold it back anymore. He slapped Kenji across his mouth. He choked out a sob and turned away, not wanting any more excuses or buts. He didn't want to deal with this, with him, anymore. "We're done, Kenji. Don't ever get me involved in your bullshit again."

He left the base and got into his car, intended to drive back to his real home, but as soon as he closed the side door he broke. He started crying, hard and ugly. He sunk down in the driver's seat and covered his face. His parents, Mary, Lewis, and now Kenji. He was tired of losing people. He was tired of being unable to sleep at night because he kept thinking about them. Why was he still here if all he had to do was feel this pain? This hurt, this grief. Every day was just more fear. "Who's going to die today? What do I have to sacrifice to make it to tomorrow?" Was "tomorrow" even fucking worth it? The more he kept going, the less he felt like it was. Tomorrow was just a vague concept, a carrot dangling on a stick to keep him moving. He didn't want to move. He wanted to stay, just for a little bit, in the same place with the same people.

As he stopped crying, nearly an hour later, he didn't have the energy to drive. His head was pounding, his eyes were puffy and strained and he was exhausted. With life, just in general... who knew? He pulled out his phone and stared at the screen for a few moments. He didn't know what to do, he was stuck there... just gazing down at the soft blue light emanating from the screen. He sighed, closing his eyes and tossing his phone onto the back seat. He had to go home.

__________________________

Date: 13/6/215

Location: Prison Complex, Ottowa, Ontario-Quebec Region

The man crouched in the roof, aiming his rifle down at the ground below him. He had been waiting for hours, it was what a sniper did. No movement below, although he could hear alarms. They would be out soon.

He had temporarily cut the alarms, trying to give them as much time to get away. He knew that it wouldn't make their escape easy, just easier. Without his help they would have been gunned down in seconds.

His radio buzzed softly to his left. He had it intercepting the transmissions of the prison guards.

"Shit, shit..."

"How the fuck did nobody catch them earlier?"

"Just shoot them."

"They're headed for the entrance!"

He adjusted himself slightly, getting ready to fire at a moment's notice.

"We got one down, repeat one of them is down. The others have stopped."

"Rail on 'em, fill them with holes."

"Wait, wh-"

That was new. Someone else was down there. He could hear the fighting on the other end of the line, scuffling and muffled shouts. Gunshots, then yelling in... Life, were they speaking French? Fucking course they were. He couldn't understand a word of it.

__________________________

"Tara, where the fuck did you go?" Lewis shouted. Tara growled and stuck their hunting knife under the visor of one the guards. They hated the "squish" the guard's head made, but it had to be done.

"I was looking for you, numbnuts!" they snapped, pulling their knife out.

"Yeah, sorry. Too busy trying not to get shot!" He rushed over to Zander's side and, with Milo and CeeCee's help, lifted him up. "Shit, what are we going to do with him?" he muttered in English, grimacing when he saw that Zander had ripped out the stitches in his side and was losing blood much faster than a person should lose it.

"Do you think your friend can get us past the guards?" CeeCee asked, fear plastered on her features. Lewis swallowed, looking as Tara dodged and took out as many soldiers as they could. They were a survivor, agile and strong as a tank. But they were human.

"Not without help. Fuck, uh..." He looked around frantically. "Milo, help carry Zander. Just get him out as fast as you can and get to our ride. I'll help Tara." he ordered quickly, grabbing a gun from the guard Tara had killed. The rest were injured but still alive, and he didn't doubt they wouldn't be too happy if he tried to take their weapons. He pointed it at a guard's legs and shot, taking them out. Tara nodded at him appreciatively, grabbing the guard's gun and using it instead of the knife.

__________________________

The sniper listened to the shots. They were still outnumbered, but this gave them a few precious moments to run. After a minute or two, the group ran out. Lewis had his arm hanging limp at his side. Of course, it wasn't realistic to think that they could get out unscathed. But the little brat kept firing his gun. It was admirable. CeeCee and the other boy carried Zander, trying their best to be fast and careful. Needless to say, but the man needed blood or else he wouldn't make it an hour. The sniper had given them medical supplies, slipped them into Lewis' garish tank. It would only help what was left of Zander Ashworth's vital organs stay inside him, but that was all they needed.

He focused his crosshairs on one of the soldiers that was in pursuit of the rebels and shot. In a moment, everyone had taken notice. They knew he was there, but it didn't matter. What sparse cover there was out in front of the complex wasn't enough to save them. Nate looked up at him as he took out the soldiers, one by one. He couldn't tell if he could see his face, but it didn't matter. He wouldn't see him again.

__________________________

//authors note, fuck tumblr for mobile it absolutely bent me over the counter and fucked me

//the formatting on this is terrible it's ruined

tag: @thereasontherumisgone

#dystopian canada #everything is gonna be fine #dystopian #dystopia #Dystopian world #original content #original writing #original story #i wrote this on mobile and it was torture #they should use typing on mobile as an interrogation method #id tell u anything after 5 minutes of this

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cakesunflower · 6 years ago

Text

War of Hearts [Gang!Calum AU] Part 9 {Final}

A/N: oh, man, here we are, folks. the last & final chapter of War of Hearts. i had so much fun writing this fic; i really enjoyed playing my hand in the gang universe and hopefully one day i come back to it. a special, big fucking thank you to my girl @hotmessmichael, who helped me SO fucking much in the process of writing this fic. i couldn’t have possibly done it without her. but this is it, folks. the last we’ll see of Ruby & Calum, unless i ever decide on bonus chapters or something. but i had so much fun writing them, and i hope you enjoyed reading them. here we go. happy reading!!

Part 9

“Are you sure you want to go? We don’t mind having you here with us; you know that, right?”

Ruby let out a sigh with a drop of her shoulders, turning around to face her brother who was lingering in the doorway of his guest bedroom. Shooting him a mildly exasperated look, she said, “I need to get back to my own place, Mike.” With a light laugh, she added, “Aren’t you sick of me yet?”

Michael scoffed with a roll of his green eyes. “You’ve only been staying here for a week! If it were up to me, you’d be here for a whole year!”

Amusement lit up her own eyes, though her voice was flat as she snorted, “That’s a bit excessive, don’t you think?” She shook her head before turning back to the bed where she was packing up her clothes in her duffel bag. “I just want my own space back.”

She could her her brother grumbling behind her, felt her movements freeze when she heard him mutter, “You just want your space back so you can openly screw Calum.”

Blinking in surprise, Ruby stopped what she was doing as she lifted her head, gaze on the window on the other side of the bed as Michael’s words rang through her head. For a second, she thought she had just imagined it, but Ruby knew better. And so her eyebrows drew together in a frown, turning around to look at Michael. He remained where he stood, arms crossed as he leaned his shoulder against the door frame, looking away from her with lips pursed, appearing almost like a petulant child.

Only, Ruby didn’t find it amusing. Instead, she felt irritation clench at her jaw as she also crossed her arms over her chest, nails digging into her skin as raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Seriously, Michael? I thought you were okay with Calum and I being together.”

“I am okay with it,” he responded with an annoyed roll of his eyes, exhaling sharply when Ruby shot him a deadpanned look. “I am! What I’m not okay with is the fact that he’s a lying asshole who kept everything that’s happened a secret from me.”

Ruby’s jaw dropped slightly with an incredulous scoff. “He was trying to be a good friend!” she defended, frowning at her brother in disapproval when he pressed his tongue to the inside of his scruffy cheek as he looked away once more. She licked her lips absently before continuing, “What was the point in worrying you about things you had no control over?”

Michael’s head snapped to look at her—to glare at her indignantly. “It’s not a matter of me being able to do anything about it, Ruby. It’s the matter of him not keeping me out of the loop in the first fucking place!” He straightened, stalking into the room with tense shoulders and angry eyes. “I had a right to know that we lost people and that my own sister was being threatened. Nobody fucking told me how bad it was until you were in danger and that’s not okay. And you know why I wasn’t told? By anyone?” he inquired with narrowed eyes, his question rhetoric and challenging.

Ruby stood there, lips pursed and throat working as she tried to keep her breathing even. Then, she reluctantly answered, practically forcing the words out in a whisper, “Because Calum said so.”

Her brother leaned back, satisfied as he gave his head a single shake to push aside the blonde fringe falling over his eye. “Exactly.” His words still carried anger, betrayal. His eyes which mirrored her own showed the hurt he was feeling but was transforming into anger when he spoke. “I would never question his decisions, Ruby, and I’m not starting now, either. He’s a good leader and he knows it. But that—” Michael blinked, shaking his head slowly as he ran a hand down his mouth before pointing at Ruby. “That was not the right call.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, her crossed arms loosening just a bit. Honestly, Ruby understood why Michael felt the way he did—had even warned Calum about her brother’s reaction when he told her he wasn’t going to let Michael know about what was going on. And it hurt her, to see her brother hurting and to see him be so mad at Calum. Not because he was her boyfriend now—which, even in her head, still sounded surreal—but because he and Michael were best friends. They were family, and Ruby didn’t want to see that to fall apart.

“He’s already apologized, Mike,” she said softly, not wanting to fight him on this anymore. With a gentle, almost encouraging laugh she added, “When has Calum ever apologized for anything? And he’s done it to both of us. You and I both know how shitty he feels for everything that’s happened.” Dropping her arms, Ruby rubbed her hands down her jean clad thighs as she gazed at her brother hopefully, asking quietly, “Do you think you can find it in yourself to forgive him?”

Michael just stared at her for a few antognizingly silent moments, and Ruby hated that she couldn’t seem to pick up on what he was thinking. She just wanted things between her brother and her boyfriend to be okay, but Michael could be a stubborn man, and it was exhausting. It was also disheartening when Michael took a step back, tone flat as he said, “Let me know when you wanna go. I’ll drop you home,” before turning and leaving the room.

*****

The city always looked peaceful from his apartment, staring down at the streets below from where he stood by the window in his living room. Everything outside was muted, not that Calum wanted to hear any of it. He was content with nursing his glass of whiskey, feeling like he needed as much of it as he could to at least somewhat numb the ache he could feel through his skin and muscles, right into his bones. The cigarettes had burned his lungs and now his drink was burning his throat, and it still wasn’t enough.

For the past week, they had funerals, individual ones for each of their friends they had lost. Calum stood in his living room, still in the suit he had worn to Davis’s funeral earlier that day, the tie and jacket now missing while the sleeves of his white button down were rolled to his elbows, revealing his tattooed arms. There was a heaviness in his chest that had intensified as the past few days dragged on, each funeral adding on a weight to his heart that made it difficult to breathe.

He’s lost people before, but never due to his own poor leadership.

Calum sat through every funeral—Renee’s, Vasquez’s, Jenkins’s, Cole’s, Lincoln’s—and he could feel the burning rage melt into suffocating grief. He kept asking himself, over and over again, how he could’ve let this happen, and he never found an answer. Sleep didn’t come easily to him, his bed too large and too empty, which had never been a problem until now. Business wise, there wasn’t much to do, so Calum didn’t have tasks to keep himself busy. So he mourned into the bottoms of whiskey bottles and took his anger out on punching bags at the gym and let his pain eat away at him silently.

“I can feel you self-loathing from miles away.”

It was amazing how feeling Ruby’s arms wind around him from behind as her cheek pressed into his back instantly relaxed him, easing some of the tension knotting at his muscles as his free hand came to rest on top of hers settled above his stomach. Calum closed his eyes, letting a sigh pass through his lips as he tilted his head back and let himself lean into Ruby’s touch. There was solace in the reminder that she was spending the night with him, despite having moved back to her own apartment two days ago after staying at Michael’s for a week. But she wanted to be with Calum, and he desperately wanted to be with her.

She was lull of calmness in the aftermath of a storm. A lifeline. And Calum really fucking needed that. Needed her.

His voice was a rasp, tired, as he responded, “It’s all I’m capable of, Red.”

Calum heard and felt Ruby sigh behind him before she shifted, causing him to instinctively lift his left arm so she could move under it to come stand in front of him. Arms still around him, hands clasped at his back, Ruby leaned back against the glass and looked up at him with gorgeous green eyes glimmering against the several spotlights on his apartment ceiling. “Well, I’m not capable of letting you feel that way,” she responded pointedly, pulling him closer so their fronts were pressed together. Her eyes were on him, his cuts and bruises healed, as he raised his glass to take another sip of his drink. Ruby gave him a squeeze. “Talk to me, Cal. Please.”

His throat worked as he swallowed the drink, lowering the glass to his side as he let his gaze drop to Ruby once more. She was looking up at him, open and earnest and encouraging, and it spread a comforting warmth in him that he hadn’t felt in a while—ever since he had a whole fucking breakdown in his room after Lincoln’s death. But here she was in front of him, out of her black dress and in nothing but his Elvis shirt, face free of makeup and lips just slightly stained red and a small scar on her forehead and blonde hair falling around her shoulders in soft waves. So pretty. So willing to listen.

Calum let out a slow breath, free hand raising to wrap a tendril of Ruby’s blonde hair around his finger. “These past couple of weeks have gotten me fucked up.” He pushed her hair behind her ear, his hooded gaze on her and voice quiet. “And I’m not handlin’ it too well. Because it’s my fault and I don’t know if I can forgive myself.”

Ruby looked at him. Or, more so, watched him with calculating green eyes, her eyebrows drawn together thoughtfully. Calum waited patiently, almost nervously, for her to say something, letting himself admire the way the city lights glowed behind her because it was better than thinking about his dead friends. Nothing was better than admiring his gorgeous girlfriend.

“Did you plant the bombs at the Gateway, Calum?” He froze, gaze snapping up to meet Ruby’s incredulously as his hand on his glass tightened. That wasn’t what he was expecting, leaning away ever so slightly as he took in the questioning look in Ruby’s eyes. And despite the fact that she knew the answer to her own question, Calum still felt his stomach churn. She tilted her head ever so slightly. “Did you?”

Calum’s eyebrows drew together. “No.”

“Could you have known about Oscar’s involvement with the Sabers?”

His face scrunched up in bewilderment, frown deepening and lips pulling downwards as he replied, “What’re—no. No, I couldn’t’ve. But—”

“But nothing, Calum,” Ruby cut him off with a sigh, squeezing her arms around him before lifting her left hand to cup his cheek, adoring the tickle of his stubble on her skin as he pressed his lips together. Her own lips curled up in a small smile, voice soft as she slid her hand to the back of his head to thread her fingers through his curls. “You couldn’t have seen any of that coming, and that’s not a flaw of being a leader. It’s a human flaw that all of us have. You can’t kick yourself for something you’ve got no control over.”

Calum inhaled a deep stuttering breath as he listened to Ruby’s words, feeling his heart rise up into his throat and jaw clench tightly. He knew there was logical truth in Ruby’s words, almost completely believed in them and the utter honesty she spoke them in, but there was still some guilt chipping away at his heart and mind. Raising his glass once more, Calum gave a self deprecating shake of his head. “I still los—”

Knowing exactly what he was going to say, Ruby swiftly broke in, “What’d you say, at Michael’s wedding?” Calum stopped, lips still parted as he looked down at her. She raised her eyebrows, a small sympathetic smile quirking at her lips. “Occupational hazard?” He took another breath, lifting his head and letting his gaze look out at the city behind Ruby despite the lights of his apartment obstructing some of the view. The tightness in his muscles returned at those two words, regretting ever uttering them in the first place. “Everyone you lost knew exactly what they were signing up for. This kind of lifespan isn’t long, you know that and so did they. And you feeling this guilt is normal, babe.” She tilted his head down a little, forcing their gazes to meet. “But it’s important to remember that it’ll get easier. That you’ll wake up one day and it won’t hurt as much anymore.”

Calum shut his eyes, painfully aware of the steady beating of his heavy heart as he ducked his head to press his forehead against Ruby’s. She is exactly what he needed, her words washing over him like a blanket of comfort as he let them settle into his mind. The weight in his heart seemed to lift a little bit, and Calum was reminded why he loved this woman so much. This woman, who had expressed her distaste and worry over the life he led, but was still willing to support and provide comfort if she wanted to, if she saw he needed it. She was the definition of graciousness, of being so fucking wonderful, and the effect her words on him was almost instant.

He would feel pathetic, usually, for being so weak and openly showing just how much in pain he was. But with Ruby, none of that mattered. She made him feel at ease, was kind and caring and made it effortless for Calum to indulge in the storm raging within, and he was so grateful for her.

He sighed, forehead still pressed against hers as he mumbled lowly, “Don’t know why this is so hard. I’ve lost people before, but—”

“Not like this,” Ruby agreed gently, fingers massaging his scalp as he felt her nose brush against his, body practically melting at her touch. “It’ll get better. Just. . . Just know that I’m here for you, okay? I love you and I’ve got you.”

Calum felt his chest lighten, warmth spreading through his skin that only intensified when he tilted his head ever so slightly to capture Ruby’s lips with his. It was desperate kiss, slow and savoring as they pulled the other closer while Calum remained mindful of the glass he was still holding, his other arm wrapping around Ruby’s waist to press her against him. He would never let himself be consoled and coddled by anyone, but with Ruby it was different.

Her words of reassurance and of love only spurred him on, teeth sinking into Ruby’s lower lip and getting her to part her lips at the sensation, his tongue easily meeting his as a result. Calum then bent his knees a bit, never detaching their lips, and moving the arm that was wrapped around her waist just a little lower before standing to his full height and effortlessly picking Ruby up. She gasped lightly against his mouth at the sudden action, instinctively wrapping her legs around his hips and arms around his neck as he kept her up with one arm, moving his lips against hers.

Calum smirked against her mouth, turning around to walk across the living room as his lips brushed against hers while he spoke, “I’ve got you, too.”

Ruby let out a breathy laugh at that, left arm dropping so she could grab Calum’s glass from him, her eyes on him as he watched her finish the rest of the whiskey. He watched her throat work as she swallowed the drink, leaning forward to nip at her neck once she did so as Ruby giggled at the tickle of his stubble, putting the glass down on the counter as Calum walked them past the kitchen.

She smiled, soft and sweet as her hands cupped his face. “I know you do,” she murmured against his lips before closing the gap, trusting him to get them to his bedroom as she closed her eyes and melted into the softness of Calum’s lips.

They were in the bedroom moments later as Calum kicked the door shut before approaching the bed, getting on the mattress on his knees before lowering Ruby and remaining above her as their tongues took part in a languid dance. He loved kissing her, loved feeling her lips move against his as he felt her fingers nimbly undo his button down, untucking the shirt from his pants once she reached the bottom. Her hands touched his heated skin as she pushed the shirt off and Calum reluctantly pulled away to sit up and pull off his shirt completely, watching with parted lips as Ruby sat up ever so slightly to take off her own shirt.

Her blonde hair fell back around her shoulders, and Calum couldn’t get his belt off fast enough at the sight of her laying completely naked for him, save for her black lace underwear Calum’s fingers itched to rip right off. His pants were off quickly, and Calum relished in the breathless gasp that escaped Ruby’s lips when his ring clad fingers gripped at her left breast, rings cool against her warm skin as his lips captured her right nipple between them, eyes on Ruby as she tilted her head back at the sensation of his mouth on her skin.

Calum was mindful of giving the same attention to both nipples before he kept moving down, lips leaving searing kisses on her body that had the prettiest sounds escaping Ruby, egging him on as he left kisses on her hip bones. His fingers played with the waistband of her panties, purposefully teasing, feeling Ruby’s fingers thread through his hair as she breathlessly begged, “Please, just—just do something.”

He tutted, hooking one finger on the waistband and pulling it back before letting go so it could snap back against her skin. Ruby’s stomach sank at the slight sting of the elastic. “So impatient, Red.”

Still, he worked fast.

As soon as the underwear was off, Calum’s lips were pressing against Ruby’s core, completely set on undoing her with his mouth as he felt her other hand in his hair as well, a gratified moan escaping her as he got a taste of her. Ruby felt like her skin was on fire, burning from the sensations Calum was igniting in her, back arching off the bed and the silk sheets feeling like heaven against her body—but not nearly as much as Calum’s expert mouth. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even focus on it because all of her attention was acutely pointed towards the hot mouth against her, kissing and licking and sucking at her dizzyingly.

A finger joined in to drive her more up the wall, then two, and Ruby’s eyes screwed shut at the added sensation of feeling the cool metal of Calum’s rings against her hot skin. He was relentless, crude sounds and all, the cold sheets doing nothing to melt her fiery body as her fingers tightened around his curls and he hummed, the vibration of the sound causing Ruby to inhale sharply as it shook through every nerve.

It wasn’t long until he was drawing out her first orgasm as it crashed through Ruby with a pleasured, pretty moan that was music to Calum’s ears, eagerly taking in everything Ruby had to give him. And, by God, she thought he was done but he remained, mouth still against her even as she gave his head a tug. She was desperate to feel him, but Calum didn’t quite seem too ready to change positions. “Think you can give me one more, doll?” he rasped against her, hands gripping her thighs and letting her drape over his shoulders. Ruby’s head tilted back, a pathetic whimper escaping her. “Just one more before I fill you up, yeah? Know you can do it, angel.”

She’d just barely come down from her high from the first orgasm as his mouth kept working on her, and Ruby couldn’t help but think she was going to lose her mind in the best ways, eyes closed and completely lost in what Calum was doing to her. Her heart was racing and her head was in the clouds, but she was hyper aware of his dangerous mouth, was scratching at his scalp and making all kinds of appreciative sounds and praises as he worked another orgasm out of her.

When he was done, Ruby was so sensitive, but so ready as Calum’s lean body came up to hover over hers, the tip of his cock teasing her entrance as his lips pressed against hers. She tasted herself on him, not at all minding, feeling the cool pendant of his necklace graze against the hot skin of her collarbones as Calum kissed her earnestly, murmuring softly and genuinely, “I love you.”

It made her heart stop, just for a moment, even though it wasn’t the first time he said it. But every time he did, it left Ruby suspending in a pocket of disbelief, hands pressing against his back only to dig her nails into his skin as he swiftly entered her. The warmth of her around him had both of them gasping into the kiss, lips brushing and eyes shut as they reveled in the intimacy for a moment, bodies hot and breaths gone and completely lost in one another.

Her hands remained on his back, feeling some of the jagged skin where old and new scars decorated him, and Ruby’s lips captured Calum’s in a slow kiss that matched the pace Calum set, wanting to savor this moment, never wanting it to end, and Ruby loved him even more for it.

She loved him with the scars on his back and the scars on his heart, because it was right.

Because loving him for everything he was, was the best and easiest decision she’s ever made.

*****

Calum’s eyes were sharp, watching everyone and everything around him, eyebrows furrowed as the lights flashed and made it difficult to perceive the faces he was surrounded by. It’s one of the reasons why he hated coming to clubs; too dark and rowdy with too many people that made it hard for him to pick up on things as quickly as he needed to. But it was Luke’s birthday and he’d wanted to celebrate here after the hell they all had gone through, and everyone was looking for an occasion to get plastered. Though, Calum noticed, many of his men were keeping their drinking to a minimum. He didn’t blame them.

Last time everyone got drunk, they lost five people.

Calum stuck to the one glass of whiskey he had ordered since arriving, nursing it slowly as he sat comfortably on one of the couches at the V.I.P. section, not at all wanting to be anywhere near the buzzing crowd of people dancing. He wasn’t much of a dancer in the first place, not unless he was completely drunk out of his mind, so he was content with sitting on the couch, eyes watching his girl dance and sing along to a club remix of some vaguely familiar song playing with Ashton and Luke.

He watched her smile and dance and have a good time, and the sight of Ruby enjoying herself put Calum in some ease. She deserved a fun night out after everything that happened—they all did.

Remaining seated on the couch, Calum watched as, after a few minutes, Ruby broke away from the dance floor and made her way over to where he sat. Calum raised his eyebrows, lips curling as she approached him and he took a sip of his drink, swallowing the beverage as Ruby grabbed his free hand. “Come dance with me, Cal,” she prodded, standing over him with an all too alluring smile on her red lips.

He merely grinned up at her, eyes shamelessly admiring the tightness of the dark blue dress hugging her body wonderfully. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders, pretty green eyes framed with long lashes watching him and Calum couldn’t help but revel in the fact that this gorgeous woman would be going home with him only. “Y’know I don’t dance, Red.”

Ruby scoffed, playing with his fingers as the rings he wore clinked against her own. “You danced at Michael’s wedding,” she pointed out with a raise of her eyebrows, jutting her hip out and resting her free hand on it.

“That was slow dancin’,” Calum responded with a smirk. He gave her hand a little tug, causing her to stumble forward just a little as her legs bumped into the couch and Calum remained leaning back, relaxed. “You can either go back out there and do whatever it was you were doin’ with Luke and Ash. Or you can sit and keep me some company.”

Even over the pounding music, Calum heard Ruby’s exaggerated contemplating hum as she looked up at the ceiling. “I think I’m gonna go dance.”

He saw the teasing grin she failed to hide as he kept his grip on her, chuckling out an, “Oi,” before ultimately pulling her back. Calum grinned as Ruby laughed, easily allowing herself to fall next to him on the couch, pushing herself into his side as Calum switched the glass between his hands so he could wrap his right one around Ruby. She tucked into his side with a content breath, and Calum’s fingers gently ran up and down her bare arm as he asked, “How’re you feelin’? You good?”

Ruby let out another breath, this time mildly exasperated. It was a question Calum had asked her multiple times already since they got her back. It was like he needed the constant reassurance, needing to know if she was physically and emotionally alright. And while Ruby found it sweet that he was always checking in on her, she also didn’t want Calum to live in some kind of consistent torment where he was driving himself crazy with concern over her. It would be distract, and if Calum spent unnecessary minutes agonizing over her, Ruby was afraid he’d do so at the wrong time and get himself hurt. She couldn’t become a distraction.

“I’m just as good as before,” she responded, shifting so her left arm pressed against the back of the couch so she could look up at him. Her voice turned soft despite the music playing so loudly. “How many times are you going to ask me that?”

Calum pursed his lips, looking straight ahead at the dancing bodies as he took a sip of his drink. His voice lost of the precious gentleness as he asked flatly, “What, I can’t worry ’bout you?”

“You can,” Ruby assured, handing coming to rest on his thigh. She leaned her head forward, hoping to catch his stubborn gaze as she continued, “If there was something to worry about. But I’m fine, Cal. I’ve been fine. There’s no use being so. . . Anxious over my well-being.”

She saw the jump in his jaw muscle, turning his head to look at her as the colors of the lights flashed across his suddenly hard, slightly disapproving, expression. “I’m the one who put your well being in danger, Ruby. I’m guilty of that.”

Ruby blinked at him, green eyes widening incredulously. She thought they were getting past this, but to truly believe that Calum wouldn’t dwell on this would be naive. But it hurt her heart, knowing Calum was feeling this kind of pressing guilt. He already held the burning accountability over the loss of his men, and Ruby knew no matter what anyone said, that wouldn’t be going away anytime soon. But maybe she could help rid of the culpability he carried over what happened to her, at least.

She tightened her grip on his thigh, eyebrows drawing together desperately. “No one blames you for that, Cal, please don’t blame your—”

“Michael blames me.” Ruby’s words died in her throat at Calum’s firm words. Like he was stating a fact he had undeniable evidence to prove. His gaze remained on her, professionally wiping his face of all expressions to hide what he was feeling. But even though the colors flashed across his face, Ruby could see the torment in his dark eyes. Torment that’s been there for days, particularly and understandably intense during the funerals they attended recently.

But in this moment, Ruby could see the conflict struggling within his dark eyes was because of the current strained friendship between him and his best friend. And Ruby hated that things with her boyfriend and brother weren’t good, and hated that it was affecting Calum so much.

Michael was no ray of sunshine lately either, but all he felt and expressed was indignant anger, mixed with betrayal, towards Calum. He wasn’t completely over the fact that Calum kept him in the dark about everything until it all hit the fan. Meanwhile, Calum was losing sleep over things he had no control over. Ruby sighed. “Calum—”

“I don’t wanna talk ’bout it,” he cut her off, though his voice was soft, almost like he was begging for her to drop it. Ruby pressed his lips together, watching as he downed the rest of his drink and set the empty glass on the small table next to the couch. Calum licked his lips before looking at Ruby, offering the smallest of smiles that didn’t reach his eyes as his hand covered hers on his thigh and gave a squeeze. “’M gonna go for a smoke. Stay here, yeah?” he said, pressing as quick kiss to her red lips before he stood up, well aware of Ruby’s concerned gaze burning his back as he made his way out of the V.I.P. section and towards the back door.

Calum easily pushed past the many people around—though most of them, drunk or sober, moved aside on their own accord as his tall frame made its way through. Even when he was outside the back of the club, no longer surrounded by warm bodies with music pounding his ears, Calum still wasn’t relaxed. The fresh air didn’t ease him as he placed a cigarette between his lips and brought the lighter up to ignite the end of it.

The puff of smoke passed his lips as he pocketed the lighter, closing his eyes and leaning his head back as the warmth of the nicotine washed over him—not at all cooling him down from his already heated skin from being inside. But he didn’t quite care. The rough brick of the wall behind him dug into his back through the thin material of his button down. Music from inside the club sounded muffled, the thoughts in his head being more of a reason that the wall in between.

Ruby wanted him to forgive himself. But that was easier said than done. She’d been kidnapped. They lost people they cared about. And while Calum still held a sense of satisfaction after the deaths of Hawkins and Oscar, the guilt for everything leading up to that was still present. He fucked up, and he couldn’t bring back the dead to change that.

“You look miserable.” Calum’s eyes shot open, looking to his left to see Michael standing there, hands shoved in the pocket of his light blue denim jacket. He stood, nearly expressionless, taking in the mildly surprised look Calum wore before nodding towards the club. “Ruby told me to talk to you.”

Calum could’ve laughed at his girlfriend’s innocent meddling. Instead he looked away from Michael and down at the cigarette he was holding, muttering out, “You don’t have to listen to her.”

Michael sounded like he was suppressing a scoff as he answered, “She’s stubborn as fuck.” They were silent until Michael let out a breath before asking, “You good?”

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, Calum glanced at the blonde and inquired, “Are you askin’ because you care or because Ruby forced you to?”

Pursing his lips, Michael’s expression fell blank, unshaven jaw tightening when Calum let out a knowing scoff at his silence and turned his head to look in front of him. Calum loosened his own clenched jaw, cheeks hollowing as he took another drag of the cigarette, letting the nicotine gloriously burn his lungs. There was a tense quiet settling between the two men, interrupted by the muffled music from inside. Calum’s muscles were rigid, thumb hooked in the pocket of his pants while his other hand held the cigarette, wondering if he’d stop feeling like a criminal next to someone he considered a brother.

“There was a threat against my sister.” Calum froze, damn near choking on the smoke at the sound of Michael’s eerily steady voice. “And the first person you should’ve told was me, instead of keeping me in the dark.”

Calum’s throat worked. Another argument was about to ensue, he could feel it, but it was one they needed to have. Looking down at his scuffed boots, Calum tightly responded, “I just wanted—”

“To let me have my honeymoon? Fuck that,” Michael cut in sharply, a humorless laugh escaping him as Calum’s jaw clenched. “I can have another one. But I can’t have another sister.” Calum could hear Michael’s shoes crunching the gravel beneath his feet, looking up to see him stalking towards him threateningly, eyes narrowed. “How could you ever fucking think I wouldn’t want to be involved in this? They came after her because of both of us—not just you.” His voice rose with every word he spoke, the aggravation evident, with fists tight at his sides as the anger radiated off of him in fiery waves. “I had a right to know!”

“For fuck’s sake—I know!” Calum bellowed, voice deep and heavy as he tossed the cigarette to the ground. He jerkily turned to face Michael, body tense and skin heating up with his own frustration. He fucked up, Calum was painfully aware, but he was fucking tired of it. He wanted to move past this, no matter how difficult it may be with those they’d lost and the danger Ruby had been in. The guilt was something he would always carry, but the added weight of his best friend anger wasn’t helping matters. “I was trying to keep it under control, alright? These are my people and it’s my job to protect them.” Calum gave a shake of his head, letting out a breath. “’S all I was tryin’ to do. I’m sorry I went the wrong way ’bout it, mate.”

The tension left his voice by the last few words, and Calum realized he was more exhausted by this situation than he realized.

Calum’s throat worked as he swallowed, brown eyes meeting Michael’s green, who was gazing at him with furrowed eyebrows, some of the fire having melted away as he lifted his chin slightly. “We lost five people,” Calum spoke, quiet and raspy and defeated. “I couldn’t lose any more.” His gaze was steady, honest. “Especially not Ruby.”

Michael’s jaw worked, looking away as he considered Calum’s words. The silence between them was deafening. He looked at the buildings around them, shadowing their figures. “For the first time, I understood what Ruby felt every time I had an assignment.” He frowned at nothing in particular in the distance, hands in his jacket pockets as his eyebrows drew together. “That. . . Paralyzing fear, driving myself crazy wondering if she was okay. It was like getting a taste of my own medicine because I know that’s how she and Crystal both always feel whenever I have to deal with business. But this is my life; I never wanted it to be Ruby’s.”

“Neither did I,” Calum responded, voice hoarse and thick with honesty. His chest felt tight with the familiar guilt he’d been feeling for weeks, shoulders dropped in defeat. “You know I’d never want this for her. I love her—”

“It’s because we love her that she’s involved,” Michael pointed out, words that held nothing but the truth silencing Calum. He nodded in agreement, the gesture subtle and practically unnoticeable as his jaw locked. They were quiet, and Calum peeked a look at Michael, who was frowning at the ground as a fringe of blonde hair fell over his eye, looking lost in thought as Calum remained silent, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going through his friend’s mind. Michael licked his lips, taking a breath as his Adam’s apple worked and green eyes met brown. “I wasn’t close with my folks, you know that, but losing them was tough.” He shook his head once, as if wanting to rid of a thought that floated through his mind. His eyebrows drew together, a troubled look on his face as he chewed on his lower lip anxiously, voice uncharacteristically trembling as he said, “Losing Ruby would be unbearable.”

Calum felt a burning surge of panic rush through his veins at the mere thought of something happening to Ruby—the same sensation that had dug itself into his fucking cells since the moment his eyes laid on the threat against her at the Gateway. He couldn’t handle the idea of Ruby getting hurt, of her permanently being lost to him in a way he couldn’t get her back. The thought of it was paralyzing, like Michael had said, like his heart would stop pumping blood and lungs wouldn’t be able to handle any air.

He hadn’t been able to breathe when Oscar had Ruby, his usually calm and collected mind torturing him with fears of what could be happening to Ruby, especially after that video he and Michael had watched when they arrived at Oscar’s place. There had been an incessant ringing in his ears, piercing and shrill, like he’d been hit in the head over and over again with the force of Ruby’s kidnapping that was only silenced as soon as she was in his arms.

Michael was right. Losing Ruby was not something Calum would be capable of ever recovering from.

“It’s up to us to protect her.” Michael’s voice pulled Calum back, looking at the blonde with a deep breath. Michael let out a scoff of a chuckle, giving a shake of his head. As he raised his hand, bracelets on his wrists softly clicking together as he rubbed at the back of his head. “She’ll probably say some shit like she doesn’t need our protection, but—”

“That’s not gonna stop us,” Calum finished knowingly, relievingly, nodding along in agreement as his own lips quirked up at the sight of Michael’s approving smile. And Calum knew, in that moment, as he and Michael talked about their commitment to protecting a woman they both loved, because it was anything but a chore, that things between the two of them would be fine.

Life—theirs especially—was too short to spend it being pissed at the people they cared about, at pushing away those they wanted to hold onto for as long as they could.

The loose gravel on the ground crunched under Michael’s shoes as he took the few steps towards Calum, hands still in the pocket of his denim jacket. The two looked at each other, brown eyes meeting green, as a brief understanding silence fell upon them. And then, nearly taking Calum by surprise, Michael closed the space between them as he pulled the brunette in for a hug—one that had Calum’s tense body instantly relaxing.

He wasn’t much of a hugger, but Calum desperately needed this. From Michael, specifically.

His own arms raised, returning the hug as his chin rested on the blonde’s shoulder, taking in a breath as he squeezed his eyes shut, the tightness in his chest easing as Michael clapped his back. Both men released their own shaky sighs, the stress and troubles of everything that’s happened finally melting out of their bodies enough to lighten the load that had been suffocating their chests. It was comforting, brotherly, and so badly needed.

“Thank you.” Calum’s breath hitched, eyes opening at Michael’s muffled yet sincere words, staring at the deserted backroad they were standing on as Michael’s voice registered in Calum’s head. “For bringing her back to me.”

Calum nodded, lips pressing together as the tightness in his heart returned—only this time, it was utterly welcomed, only coming from a place of gratitude for the man Calum knew he could always count on.

Inside the club, Ruby remained seated on the couch Calum had abandoned her on, her worry for him overpowering her mood to dance. The bass of the music thrummed in her chest, but all Ruby could feel was concern for her boyfriend and his mindset. She knew he was struggling, knew he had nightmares, hated that nothing she seemed to do could put him at ease, and was aware of how him and Michael not speaking was only an added toll on Calum. The two of them were like brothers, depending on each other for years, and she hoped that hadn’t been fractured.

It was funny to think now, Ruby couldn’t help but muse, how for so long she’d turn her nose up at Michael’s involvement with the Riders—with Calum. At one point she’d considered Calum a bad influence, begrudgingly having to accept him as a constant in Michael’s life and in turn, to some extent, in hers as well. It had been a reluctant acceptance, one that had taken her years to warm up to, and once she did. . . Falling in love with him wasn’t something she ever saw happening.

But she did. And she let it happen.

Now, though, she was currently swimming in a sea of worry, wondering if sending Michael out after Calum had been a good idea. There was only so much she could do for Calum, was beyond willing to do more than she was now, but a part of her knew that whatever Calum was feeling, it could only be eased by her brother.

Calum had gone through a difficult time, was struggling to move on from it, and Ruby knew this was something he would carry forever. She hated that he was hurting, hated that there wasn’t anything she could do save for hold him at night when it got too much and whisper words of comfort and reassurance.

There had been a time, before she got to know Calum, where Ruby had assumed nothing could get to him. She saw him as untouchable, unmarked despite the battle scars that decorated his golden skin. It was in the way he carried himself, she figured, and the hard attitude he had. Like nothing could ever break him and there wasn’t anything he was afraid of. It was something Ruby silently admired about him for years. He’d always been larger than life, still was, and even seeing the ugly side of it all, Ruby still admired him. Still thought of him as incredible—more so now, getting to see the human heartbreak he was struggling with. He’d had a rude awakening and was trying to work his way through, and she was willing to help him in any way she could.

Ruby found herself at the bar waiting for Michael and Calum to return, aware of Luke’s, Ashton’s, and any other Rider’s watchful eyes on her. She nursed a glass of whiskey—Calum’s favorite that he managed to get her to have a taste for—as an attempt to calm her nerves.

“I trust him with my life, but if he hurts you, I will kill him.”

Ruby almost jumped at the sound of Michael’s voice, looking to her left to see him sliding on to the stool next to her,. She watched as he gestured to the bartender for a beer, licking his lips before looking at her expectantly. But she stared back at him for a moment, the music pounding and lights flashing as Michael’s words processed in her mind. “Wait.” Ruby blinked, frowning. “What?”

An almost amused smirk tilted at her brother’s lips, accepting the beer placed in front of him before glinting green eyes met hers. “Calum,” Michael clarified, turning on the stool so his body faced hers. “He’s my best friend and I trust him. But if he happens to break your heart, just say the word and I won’t hesitate to cap him.”

His words were threatening towards her boyfriend, but Ruby still let out an incredulously relieved, breathless laugh. Her eyebrows raise as she looked at Michael, easily picking up on the fondness softening his features. There was a lightness in her chest, the relief making her oblivious to the world around her as her hand reached out to grab Michael’s resting on the bartop. Her heart was steady and throat was tight as she asked him in hesitant contentment and comfort, “You’re okay?”

The two word question asked for a lot more than it seemed, and Michael seemed to understand that as he smiled, gentle and sweet as he gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m okay.” He leaned towards her, genuine as he added, “And he will be, too.”

That had a breathless, grateful laugh escaping Ruby before she threw her arms around Michael and pulled him in for a tight hug, the warmth she felt from the embrace significantly better than what she felt because of the drink or heat of the club. Ruby stood on her feet to hug Michael as he remained sweated, his arms around her waist and scruff tickling her exposed shoulder. “I love you, Mike.” Ruby’s words were whispered, yet Michael heard them clearly over the deafening music.

He squeezed her. “Feeling’s mutual, Ruby.” Then Michael pulled back, shooting her a grin before jutting his chin forward. “Now go—I think you’re being asked to dance.”

Ruby looked over her shoulder, smile widening when she caught sight of her boyfriend through the people moving between them and lights flashing, standing on the outskirts of the dance floor. He stood tall with his hands in the front pockets of his pants, looking uncharacteristically comfortable amidst so many people, his eyes easily finding hers in the unsteady lighting through the distance between them.

Calum looked so inviting, waiting for her to come to him, and it twisted Ruby’s stomach excitedly. She approached him without hesitance, weaving through the bodies yet her eyes never left his, the smile ever present on her lips. Ruby finally stopped in front of him, the heels of her shoes only giving her some height in comparison to Calum’s stature. They stood staring—admiring—at each other, before Ruby inquired, “All good?”

Calum returned the smile, the sight always catching Ruby’s breath as his hands found her hips and pressed her close. “Now it is, yeah,” his low, raspy voice returned over the music as he ducked his head, curls lightly tickling her forehead. His dark eyes searched Ruby’s earnest green ones, a soft sigh passing his full lips as he felt her hands bury themselves in the back pockets of his pants. “I’m sorry I’ve been so strung out lately—”

“No, no,” Ruby closed her eyes as she shook her head, leaning away ever so slightly before looking up at him. Gentle opposition flashed across her eyes as she said, “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Cal. You’re allowed to feel like a mess, so long as you promise you’ll come back to me in the end.”

There was a soft warmth that spread through Calum at her words, a feeling he knew only Ruby was capable of igniting in him. The people packed around him in the club had no place in Calum’s mind right now, his only focus being the gorgeous woman in his arms. He wondered, not for the first time, how he got so fucking lucky with her, how he managed to end up with someone as wonderfully unbelievable as Ruby. he smiled, pulling her back in. “Where else am I gonna go?”

Her grin widened, happy and bright as she peered up at him with glittering eyes. “Nowhere.” Her hands gave his butt a teasing squeeze, watching as a dangerous look expectantly flashed across his eyes. “You’re stuck with me, Hood. I’ve got you trapped.”

Calum smirked, brushing his nose against hers, loving the delicious press of her body against his as his grip on her hips tightened. “Pretty sure I’m the one who trapped you, Red. Right when I made you stay with me.”

Ruby’s jaw dropped with an amused scoff, pressing into him subconsciously as people moved behind her, blonde hair falling behind her shoulders and exposing skin Calum desperately wanted to press his lips to. “If that’s the truth then this is an intense case of Stockholm Syndrome,” she teased, mirth dancing in her eyes as it curled at her lips too, the air around them light and loving and humorous. A welcome change for both of them, one they hoped to hold onto.

Chuckling, Calum pressed a soft kiss to her red lips, wanting to deepen it right away yet keeping his desires at bay as he quipped right back, “Afraid there’s no cure for that, love.”

She scoffed with a roll of her eyes, hands leaving his pockets to link together at the back of Calum’s neck, pulling him into her with an honest grin on her face as she took a brief moment to look at him. At his glinting dark eyes and kissable lips and handsome face, and that feeling of her heart flying and breath leaving overwhelmed her once again in the best of ways as he mirrored her smile without a thought. Shit, how far they’d come. Ruby gave a shake of her head, pressing her lips to his, her murmured words lost to everyone except the man they were meant for, “Wouldn’t want it anyway.”

tags: @crownedbyluke @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @softforcal @valentinelrh @hotmessmichael @meetashthere @astroashtonio @calumh-excess @hearts-to-the-sky @old-zeppelin-shirt @angelbbycal @captain-what-is-going-on @calumthoodsyonce @cathartichaoss @misskarynie @softboycal @soulmatecashton @babygirlcashton @cxddlyash @calumhoodless @wrappedaroundcal @kinglycalum @roselukes @calumculture @ohhmuke @fucking5sos @heavenlyhemminqs @cosmixcalum @invisiblexcth @gettingjillywithit @calistheloml @cliffordcntrl @asht0ns-world @hereforlukescruff @ghostofch @ghostofhood @dxmncalum @bitchinbabylon @walkedhomealone @poppedpins @5secondssofssummer @calumsmermaid @booklove-2 @empathycth @checkeredcalum @lovelettercalum @kchillout @rosecoloredash @theagenderwhocriedwolf @cal-pal-cuddles @xhaileyreneex @paqueretteash @calteahood @biwriting @2k17muke @sublimehood @tupeloohoneyy @egyptiangoldhood @x-valntyne-x @bloodlinecal @97britt @emma070900 @mmxiihood @monsteramongmikey @akacalciumhood @thebodaciouscth @5sos-stan4lyfe @lipstickstainfading @flannelpunkcalum @inlovehoodx @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @grittyisathot @fireupthatthrone @lmao5sosimagines @isabella-mae13 @mysteriouslycali @blamexcalum @teageowen @fallfrxmgrace @dontjinx-it @thewackywriter @caswinchester2000 @calntynes @post-traumatic-mess @kissmefree

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anghraine · 5 years ago

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pro patria, chapters 1-7

I don’t actually expect people to read this, but I want it over here for completeness’s sake, so—the Guild Wars 2 fic!

This one is ... different, apart from being for a canon that I think maybe three of my friends are interested in, because instead of writing a one-shot in my format of seven sections of seven sentences each, I've written an entire 70k+ fic that way. Each chapter is precisely 49 sentences long, which makes for a lot of very short chapters, so I'm bunching them up into groups of (of course!) seven.

It’s business as usual, however, in having copious footnotes (these ones assume everyone’s unfamiliar with the canon story).

title: pro patria (1-7/?) stuff that happens: a young Ascalonian woman grows from a sheltered aristocrat, to a hero rushing into danger to help a nearby village, to the investigator of a series of mysterious abductions and thefts tied to the Ministry itself. verse: Ascalonian grudgefic characters/relationships: PC (mesmer / human / noble origin / missing sister [Ascalonian]), Lord Faren, Minister Ailoda, Deborah, Countess Anise, Logan Thackeray; PC & Ailoda, PC & Deborah, PC & Anise, PC & Faren

ONE 1 I always thought of myself as Ascalonian first, and Krytan second. Both of my parents were Ascalonian—my mother came from a family of Rurikton refugees fallen on good times, my father from Ebonhawke, and I was born there, myself. Mother had resigned from the Ministry over some quarrel with Minister Caudecus, and hammered in her protest by uprooting the entire family for an extended holiday with my aunt Elwin in Ebonhawke. This was long before the Rurikton gate got fixed on Ebonhawke, so in the off phases, people generally took “going to visit family in Ebonhawke” as a euphemism for something. But Mother being Mother, she headed through Lion’s Arch to the Black Citadel of all places, carved her way through only the gods knew what to the gates of Ebonhawke, turned herself over to the Vanguard, and waited for Aunt Elwin to show up and get them released. She was seven months pregnant with me by the time she arrived, Father and five-year-old Deborah in tow. And two months later, she delivered me there, Father and Aunt Elwin at her side, and Charr siege engines in her ears. 2 Father always wanted to go back to Kryta, for Deborah’s sake and mine. And during the times that the Rurikton gate got switched to Ebonhawke, when our kin in Divinity’s Reach rushed supplies through, requests for Mother’s return to the Ministry came with them. She only said, “We need soldiers, not supplies—yes, I know centaurs are attacking them, but —” “We need to go home,” said Father. A Charr attack shook her resolve more than he did: one that briefly broke through the walls while Deborah was out walking with Aunt Elwin. But it was Aunt Elwin who convinced Mother that she could do more to help our people in the Ministry than as one more staff against the Charr legions. She accepted the latest offer from the Ministry, this time to serve as representative of the Salma District itself, and we headed—home, to a place I’d never seen. 3 My father was a Fairchild, a descendant—if collateral—of Duke Barradin himself, while my mother was only a Langmar, and a Langmar of mixed heritage, no less. But Langmar meant nearly as much as Fairchild in Rurikton, where the family had owned a mansion for generations. When we first arrived, I’d never seen anything like it, for Aunt Elwin’s house in struggling Ebonhawke couldn’t begin to compare to the splendid gardens and shining marble of a mansion in Divinity’s Reach. Even Deborah, her eleven-year-old dignity often stronger than any other feeling, couldn’t help staring around with wide eyes. Mother, meanwhile, gained a still greater mansion in the Salma District upon receiving her appointment as representative, but she wanted us safe from the politicking and corruption of the Ministry. Deborah and I grew up quietly in Langmar Manor, educated with other Ascalonian nobles by Ascalonian tutors, familiar with every corner of Rurikton and very little beyond it. Deborah chafed at the confinement, but I was a little girl, content enough to spend my days playing and studying with Yolanda, Corone, and Faren, new and lifelong friends. 4 Deborah joined the Seraph the day she turned twenty. “I don’t understand,” I said blankly. “We call ourselves Ascalonians,” she told me, “and that means more than tracing our family trees. You don’t remember Ebonhawke, but those are real Ascalonians, fighting for what they love—like our ancestors fought for what they loved—but we’re happy to boast of their names without doing anything. Captain Thackeray could just sit back and enjoy everything he gets for being Gwen Thackeray’s heir, but he isn’t, and I won’t either. Ascalon is lost, even if Rurikton and the Settlement and Ebonhawke will never admit it, but as long as Kryta stands, we have something to fight for.” Deborah as a Seraph, solving crimes, keeping order, and skirmishing with the occasional bandit raid, wasn’t half so chilling a prospect as Deborah fighting legions of Charr, so I didn’t say what I thought—as long as Ebonhawke stands, we have Ascalon to fight for. 5 Deborah’s departure left the whole family scattered: my mother in Salma, my father dead, my aunt and cousins in Ebonhawke, my sister stationed all the way down in Claypool, and some remote relations and me in Rurikton. Mother, still grieving Father and anxious over Debs, decided that at fifteen, I was old enough to come live with her in her Ministry mansion. I’d felt lonely and restless in Langmar Manor, but I still received the news with very little short of horror. “You’re going the next district over, not across the world,” said Yolanda. “I’ll take a house in Manor Hill too,” Faren said recklessly, “and we’ll have amazing parties.” Faren being Faren, he actually did, aided by his father’s relief at him showing interest in something beyond Rurikton high society—even if that thing was only Salma high society. My mother kissed me when we arrived, and with a smile, told Faren, “It’s a pleasure to know you’ll be keeping my girl company, and of course, just to see you—you’re looking so well!” He preened. 6 We spent those early weeks exploring Salma, curious and cheerful despite ourselves, suppressing giggles as we followed a dour guide about the district. “Orr was destroyed,” the guide was saying, “Ascalon was ravaged by the Foefire; only Kryta is left, and that by a narrow margin.” “Ascalon was ravaged by the Searing,” I said sharply, all laughter gone. Nobody would call Faren a great wit, but when it came to conversation and society, his instincts were impeccable. “You must have gotten the order confused, good sir—the Searing came first, the Foefire when everything was already wrecked—but a simple mistake, I’m sure—you were saying something about Kryta?” Biting back the first words that came to my lips, I forced myself to smile and say, “Sorry, we’re Ascalonian.” “I guessed,” said the guide. 7 I suppose I was a callow, coddled creature in those days, spoiled if not malicious—and though three years of even more luxury in Salma didn’t change that, a single letter did. To Minister Ailoda Langmar, I regret to inform you of the loss of Falcon Company in a centaur raid. Your daughter, Sergeant Deborah Fairchild, died honourably in battle. With my deepest condolences to you and your family, Captain J. Tervelan of the Seraph (Queensdale) As Mother staggered backwards, I caught her, and somehow afterwards, that was always the clearest memory: her weight in my arms, the letter falling out of her hand, fluttering downwards until it reached the floor, nothing visible but the seal of the Seraph. Until then, I’d been little more than an irritable butterfly, but with Mother shattered, I found myself willingly shouldering the work of mourning: the formal letters and heartbroken notes, the refusal of Deborah’s pension, the visits from friends and allies and enemies—I was warm and grateful to the Mashewes and Baroness Jasmina; coldly civil to that ass Zamon, whose commiseration fell little short of gloating; brave and dignified to Corone and his friend Edmonds; grieved but composed with Faren and Yolanda. Like a creature of a thousand faces, I sometimes thought in exhausted moments: not at all a proper Ascalonian hero, more Anise than Deborah—but it was the only way I knew to be strong.

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1) Ascalonian first: the PC from the first game was a resident of the human kingdom of Ascalon when the Charr, a species of giant cat people who lived in Ascalon a thousand years earlier, orchestrated a massive magical attack that killed thousands of Ascalonian civilians and devastated the landscape. Surviving Ascalonians were afterwards mostly killed or enslaved, except a few groups that escaped. The king then went mad and turned himself and the last survivors into vengeful ghosts.

2) and Krytan second: in GW1, the PC helps Prince Rurik of Ascalon lead a group of Ascalonian refugees into the neighbouring kingdom of Kryta. Some Ascalonians establish a settlement there while others live in the cities; generations later, this has resulted in a minority population of Krytan Ascalonians within broader Krytan culture, which the GW2 PC can belong to (though it has no impact on gameplay, which is what inspired the fic). In-game, Ascalonians are fiercely proud of their heritage.

3) Rurikton refugees: Rurikton, named after the Rurik in #2 (who was killed in the journey to Kryta), is the Ascalonian district of the Krytan capital, Divinity’s Reach.

4) Ebonhawke: a stronghold in the furthest reaches Ascalon built by elite Ascalonian soldiers and the civilians they fought to protect. It fell just outside of the king’s curse and has managed to survive the onslaughts of the Charr for 250 years.

5) I was born there [Ebonhawke]: there is no evidence for the PC being born outside Divinity's Reach, so this is probably one of the creakiest elements as far as canon goes. DR is canonically the PC’s home, and they strongly suggest they’ve never seen anything else. I made her very young when she arrived to finagle it, but it’s mostly there because I’m interested in the dynamic between Ebonhawke Ascalonians and Kryta Ascalonians, so I wanted to give her a foot in both worlds.

6) Minister Caudecus: a deeply corrupt Krytan minister who shows up in various storylines.

7) my aunt Elwin: Elwin Fairchild is a noblewoman of Ebonhawke in the game, a proud Ascalonian ambivalent over Krytan involvement in Ebonhawke’s affairs.

8) Rurikton gate: Asura gates are magic/technological portals created by a species of small, floppy-eared, ethically questionable scientists and researchers. They have a gate in Rurikton that will instantly transport you to the one in Ebonhawke, but it seems that it’s only recently been permanently fixed on Ebonhawke.

9) Lion’s Arch: the former capital of Kryta; after a cataclysm caused by giant eldritch dragons, the original Lion’s Arch was sunk and the city rebuilt into an independent city-state, while Divinity’s Reach became the new capital.

10) The Black Citadel: the capital of Charr-controlled Ascalon, built on top of the former human capital (and human remains, according to one Charr).

11) turned herself over to the Vanguard: the Ebon Vanguard defends and seems to largely control Ebonhawke.

12) five-year-old Deborah: we don’t know the exact age gap between Deborah and the PC, but Deborah seems to be older.

13) the Salma District: the PC will always live in Salma, regardless of origin, even though the city has sharp class and ethnic divisions and you can belong to one of the minority populations.

14) Duke Barradin himself: Duke Barradin was the heir to the previous royal family in GW1, but loyal to the elected king, Adelbern. His daughter was engaged to Adelbern’s son Rurik, but both were killed, so he has no direct descendants. However, the PC’s friend Faren is explicitly descended from royalty, the noble PC is implied to be so, and the Duke of Ebonhawke is descended from Ascalonian kings in particular, so it seems likely that their progenitor was some relation of Barradin’s.

15) only a Langmar: Captain Langmar led the elite Ascalonian soldiers that ultimately founded Ebonhawke, though she died in the process. There’s no sign that she had anything like an aristocratic background, but we’re told that class hierarchy in Rurikton is rooted in descent from Searing-era heroes, as Langmar was.

16) mixed heritage: GW2 Ascalonians, especially in Kryta, are a lot less homogeneous than in GW1. We see NPCs of all sorts of RL ethnicities identifying as Ascalonian or strongly implied to be Ascalonian. OTOH, Ebonhawke Ascalonians are implied to regard Krytan Ascalonians as "less" Ascalonian than they are, and there's a remark about Logan Thackeray’s beige heartthrob status being partly because he’s pure Ascalonian. The NPC I appropriated as their mother is a minister with default Krytan design, but who is talking with a Krytan who tells her to get over the Searing.

17) safe from the politicking and corruption of the Ministry: per #13, Salma is canonically the PC’s home and I’m stretching canon. The game is pretty emphatic that Ascalonians live in Rurikton or the Ascalon Settlement, and since there are nobles and mansions in Rurikton, it can’t even be a matter of “but the noble ones are up on Manor Hill.” The real explanation is that the choice of ethnicity is purely cosmetic and not considered any further, but that’s boring, and we’re never told that the PC has always lived in Salma.

18) Yolanda, Corone, and Faren: Faren is a shallow flibbertigibbet, but he seems to genuinely care for the PC; Yolanda and Corone are two of the friendliest guests at the party he throws for you.

19) the Seraph: the Seraph are a cross between soldiers and police in Kryta, principally involved in fighting off centaur and bandit attacks.

20) Captain Thackeray: Logan Thackeray, the Seraph commander of Divinity’s Reach and ultimate mentor/friend to the PC. He’s the descendant of Gwen Thackeray from GW1/GW: Eye of the North, who was the BEST CHARACTER IN GUILD WARS enslaved by the Charr as a child, but escaped to fight them for the rest of her life between succeeding Captain Langmar, finding love, and establishing Ebonhawke. She’s an iconic hero to Ascalonians.

21) Ascalon was ravaged by the Foefire: you don’t get a chance to correct the Salma Guide, but otherwise these are his exact words. The Foefire was the mad king Adelbern’s final curse that turned him and the last survivors into ghosts; the game tends to emphasize this rather than the Searing + brutal invasion that led to it. (It’s particularly glaring in this case, as you personally see Ascalon ravaged by the Searing in GW1 and spend a good deal of time fighting there, years before the Foefire.)

22) Minister Ailoda Langmar: the Krytan-Ascalonian minister I mentioned above is simply "Minister Ailoda," with no other name given. There's no sign of any connection to the PC, but eh, game mechanics.

23) the Mashewes...Jasmina...that ass Zamon...Corone and his friend Edmonds: Lady Mashewe is a pleasant acquaintance who says her mother prayed for the PC; Jasmina's a noblewoman avoiding Faren; Zamon and the PC insult each other; Edmonds talks to the PC with Corone.

24) Anise: Anise is the charming, enigmatic, and powerful mesmer leader of the queen’s personal guard, the Shining Blade.

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TWO

1 My sister’s gravestone read: Deborah Fairchild Daughter of Kryta and Ascalon Died serving her country with honour, faith, and courage. No body rested beneath the stone; neither the Seraph nor Mother’s Ministry guards ever managed to recover the missing corpses. I never saw a ghost, never heard the merest whisper of her spirit. The grave was the nearest approximation we had, but I often felt drawn to it, dry-eyed and somber. A day rarely passed when I spoke her name, and a day rarely passed when I did not think of her, memories jumbled up with horror at what that missing body must mean. When Debs joined the Seraph, she spoke of Logan Thackeray, of Ebonhawke, of the ancestral heroes whose names brought us respect and luxury—not of Mother, Aunt Elwin, certainly not me. Yet I could not help feeling that somehow, had I done something different, been someone different, she would never have left us. 2 For a year, I played my part in what increasingly seemed a theatre of grief: three months’ withdrawal into mourning, gradual emergence into a solemn, reserved public life over the next six months, and another quarter-year to return to my old habits of gaiety and grudges—yet little altered for me, at court or during my weekly vigils at the grave. Not, at least, until one of the latter was interrupted by a familiar voice, saying: “Indulgence doesn’t suit you, darling.” “Anise?” I exclaimed, too surprised for offence; Countess Anise was a longtime friend of our family—only the Six knew how long—but I rarely saw her away from court, much less in the guarded seclusion of the Langmar cemetery. “All those faces of yours,” said Anise, her drawl indistinguishable from every other time I’d heard her, “and you’re squandering them on self-pity and an empty coffin.” “She wanted to be a real Ascalonian,” I blurted out—I, who hadn’t confided in my mother or my aunt or my friends, and somehow I couldn’t help but babble on, “a hero fighting for her home and her cause, and now—now she’s just like them, a martyr and a defiled corpse somewhere—” “You’re getting hysterical,” Anise said, not unkindly, and added, “Is martyrdom what it means to be Ascalonian, now?” I’d always liked Anise, a clever lady mesmer like my namesake, but alive and undefeated; I respected her uncharted skills and enjoyed her inscrutable charm, but until that moment, I never realized: she was Ascalonian, too. 3 Teach me, I found myself begging Anise, though I myself didn’t quite know what I meant—maneuvering in the court, or chaos magic, or defending another person, or outwitting potential threats, or generating clones, or simply surviving in prosperity—perhaps I did not mean anything in particular. I couldn’t be Deborah, and in my heart I didn’t want to be Deborah, a soldier locked into hierarchies and orders and thrown into small doomed skirmishes. In any case, I hadn’t Deborah’s resilience, or Captain Thackeray’s unwavering loyalty, or his foremother Gwen’s relentless courage—but if I did not envision myself as equal to Anise, hers were footsteps I could see myself following, regardless of the particulars. Even as I pleaded with her, I expected little from a woman at once detached and preoccupied—and thought little of what had driven her to intercede in the first place. But Anise, taking the request on its face, smiled. “Chaos for a devotee of Kormir? Delightful—I’ll expect you at moonrise.” 4 My life reformed itself over that next year. Mother, relieved to see me interested in something of substance, readily relinquished me to Anise’s patronage; Anise herself proved an exacting but gracious mentor, dispensing advice, demands, criticism, and praise in equal measure; and my friends found me more and more myself. Small concerns crept back into my mind: the superiority of silk over velvet, Barradin wine over Eldvin ale, Gwen Thackeray over Queen Salma. Greater ones, of course, drew my attention as well: the downfall of the Meades, one of the oldest Ascalonian houses in Kryta, and consequent disappearance of our childhood friend Kasmeer Meade; the desperation of the war in my birthplace and heightened Krytan aid; the murder of an Ascalonian minister. I miss Debs every day, I wrote to my aunt, but I know I have to make something of my own life, in my own way. I’ve been thinking of returning to Ebonhawke to help, since Anise says I am ‘highly proficient’ as an aetherist. I haven’t left Divinity’s Reach in years, though, so before I try myself against the Charr, I’m planning on making my way around Queensdale—at least Shaemoor. 5 To the world, my story began the day I stepped through Dwayna’s Gate into Shaemoor. The world is wrong, of course; my life didn’t begin with centaurs clubbing a frightened man the instant that I set foot in Shaemoor, with stalls and cottages roaring into flame, with a boy as blond as Debs huddled in a corner, with the blood and brains and screams of that day. It didn’t begin with the barely-heard orders from Corporal Beirne—with the indistinct impulse that had me running forward rather than back, urging strangers towards the inn, catching the boy up in my arms, consoling a woman over the slaughter of her dog as I dragged her with my free hand—with the furious spells tumbling from my mouth, focused through the weak wooden sceptre in my hand. I was someone before I became the hero of Shaemoor. I was myself, with my own history, my own concerns, my own people … the man, that man slaughtered before my eyes, was Ascalonian, and the boy too. If they had not been, perhaps the instinct of the moment would not have flung me into the horror as if I’d been tempered by the Searing, instead of sheltered in Divinity’s Reach. Or perhaps it ran deeper than that, and I would have turned onto that path had the man been Zamon, or an Asura, or even a Charr—but still, it was the turn, not the beginning. 6 Something did begin at Shaemoor, however: my association with Logan Thackeray. I’d met him before, socially, but only just—and in perfect honesty, knew him more as the butt of Anise’s wit than anything else. But I respected him from what I’d heard of his service to Divinity’s Reach, and for his determination to follow his ancestress’s footsteps and not just her name. In the midst of all that panic and death, it seemed only natural to rush to his aid when I heard that he was being overwhelmed. I had no sword, like Logan, or Deborah; I struck from among magical decoys, twisting chaos about our enemies from each direction—but it was something, and an hour from leaving the city for the first time, I was at Logan’s side, blasting aether at a massive earth elemental and the many smaller ones. He didn’t know me from Kormir, or at least from Kasmeer, but I knew we were a Langmar and a Thackeray again, thrown into another desperate fight, and there were worse ways to die. But we didn’t die; we lived and we triumphed, and by the time that I awoke in the care of a priestess of Dwayna, every Seraph from Logan on down knew who I was. 7 All my life, I had been Minister Ailoda’s other girl or the lady Elwin’s niece or Sergeant Fairchild’s sister or a Langmar, you know, on the mother’s side—or, now and then, merely my lady. I rarely heard my own name outside my little circle of Ascalonian nobles. I also rarely heard it in the immediate wake of Shaemoor. But now I wasn’t a satellite about greater relations, extensions of my mother or aunt or sister or heroic ancestors. I was the hero, myself, even as I wandered about Shaemoor in a daze. I didn’t do much: fought off little wyrms and harpies, found missing herds, gathered apples. Yet there was no my lady there, much less So-and-so’s relation: only the hero of Shaemoor.

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1) clever lady mesmer like my namesake: the PC's name isn't explicitly stated in this section, but those familiar with the original Guild Wars: Prophecies can probably figure it out from this reference.

2) Chaos for a devotee of Kormir?: all human characters choose a patron god/goddess, and the choice of god and the choice of profession are completely independent. But Kormir, goddess of order and truth, is a rather odd choice for a chaos magic-using mesmer.

3) the murder of an Ascalonian minister: Minister Brios, the representative for the Ascalonian Settlement, is poisoned in Divinity's Reach before a meeting with Anise. There are very few Ascalonian ministers, so the murder of one of them seems likely to be particularly troubling to Ascalonians.

4) before I try myself against the Charr: you can get to Ebonhawke straight from the starting zone of Divinity’s Reach, but Ebonhawke is in a level 30+ zone.

5) a boy as blond as Debs: Deborah will be blonde if you choose to be Ascalonian.

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THREE 1 These days, I knew better than to let myself get consumed by grief. Still, as I flung spells at spiders, giant worms, bandits, centaurs, anything, I couldn’t help but wish that Deborah could see me now. At the garrison, I snatched up a rusty sword and poured magic through it with every swing at a centaur; what would she think? Me, fighting with a sword? Maybe not the way she or the other Seraph did, but still! She wouldn’t believe it. She’d be proud, I thought—wouldn’t she? 2 I’d barely passed beyond Shaemoor when I heard from Faren: positively hasty, for him. His pet raven delivered a gushing note that, in the space of a few sentences, managed to tease me about my injuries, urge me to talk him up to my healer, and summon me to a party—at my own house. I could only laugh; ridiculous as he often was, I loved him dearly, and always had. Even as children, we’d been friends and companions, but after Kasmeer vanished and Deborah died, we found ourselves inseparable. We were among the last of that quiet, secure little Ascalonian world in which we’d grown up at Rurikton—certainly the closest. Deborah’s death had changed me, driven me beyond the walls of Rurikton and Manor Hill, beyond letters and parties and court gossip. But I remained Faren’s friend, as I would always be. 3 Many people, I think, assumed Faren and I were lovers; in fact, to our own bemusement, nothing could be further from the truth. When we were seventeen, he said, “I don’t understand it. You’re pretty—I’m gorgeous—but I really think I’d throw up.” I might have been offended had I not felt exactly the same. “Inbreeding, I expect,” I told him. Faren brightened. “Grandmama was a Fairchild.” 4 Faren waited ahead of the party—a sacrifice, in the world of Faren—to greet me with his most grandiose bow. “The hero of Shaemoor returns!” I shook my head, but I grinned despite myself. It turned out that my servants had gleefully conspired with him, and when I entered the courtyard, I found it full of strangers and friends alike, along with food, gossip, and a wizard. I’d enjoyed exploring Queensdale, pushing myself to further and further limits; it was good to know that I could enjoy simpler pleasures, too, although it didn’t extend to the dog fights and bear baiting that a cousin of Faren’s called for. “Not in my home,” I snapped, “and if you want to stay, don’t mention that again.” When I heard someone say my name, I seized the chance to turn away—only to find myself facing my mother’s most hated rival. 5 “Minister Zamon.” “You’ve done well for yourself,” Zamon said acidly. “All it takes for a noble to be a hero is a bit of swordplay, a few bottles of cheap brandy, and an inflated sense of self-importance.” He had said much the same of Deborah’s swift rise among the Seraph; she’d never responded, holding herself above partisan squabbles. “Then you’re almost a hero already, my lord,” I replied, smiling. “All you lack is the brandy and swordplay.” I was not Deborah. 6 Even my old friends seemed to see the hero of Shaemoor more than anything else. Corone, brought up with Faren and Kasmeer and me, and now a respected warrior, regarded me as if he’d never seen me before, and said he’d be honoured to fight beside me. Yolanda hailed me as a heroine—before chiding me for associating so much with Faren, “that rascal!” In his imagination, maybe. Fending off her interrogation about Logan Thackeray, I’d never been happier to see Faren bounce towards me. And the moment that I muttered something about being tired, he assured me that he was done with the party as well, and headed off to make our excuses to the servants. I was ignoring Yolanda’s meaningful stare when I heard him scream. 7 Corone got his wish sooner than either of us could have imagined. We easily trounced the bandits who swept into the party, but it didn’t matter: Faren was already gone. With Corone and Edmonds protecting the guests, I ran out of Manor Hill and into the district plaza, desperately trying to catch any sign of Faren, or even the bandits; they’d have to have some way to recognize each other, wouldn’t they? But there was nothing, just ordinary people carrying on with ordinary business, merchants calling out sales, the old tour guide talking to a woman with a red handkerchief about her neck … with that over her mouth, she’d look just like the bandits who had abducted Faren— “Madam?” said someone near us, and then “ma'am!” as I blasted the bandit with a bolt of aether. I fought at least half a dozen across the district, tracking them one by one to a house at the opposite end of Salma. At the sight of me, bandits poured out of the house, but I didn’t care: they’d learn what it meant to cross a daughter of Ascalon.

FOUR

1 After Shaemoor, the bandits were nothing. They kept jumping out of their safehouse one by one—idiocy—and flailed at my clones, even their supposed leader. “Soon, you’ll beg me for death!” he shouted. I laughed, and blew up the clones. He went down like a basket of eggs. But I never laughed for long. I’d yet to see Faren, and images of bandits beating him, tormenting him, cutting his throat, flickered before me, each as vivid as every spell I cast. 2 Inside the bandits’ safehouse, I raced upstairs, barely wasting attention on the few guards left inside. Fear and victory kept my blood rushing fast: I didn’t even think about Anise’s lessons, but my feet landed exactly as she’d taught me, my body slipped away from each attack, and every spell hit its mark. Beyond them, I could just see Faren. He seemed alive, thank the gods, but stretched out in magical chains that turned my anger and fear to raw fury. I fought through a haze of rage, but one that illuminated rather than blinded—everything seemed crisp and bright and clear, more than ever before. When the last of them collapsed, I scrambled the rest of the way up the stairs, and tried to clear my head. “Um,” said Faren, “a little help here?” 3 When I broke the chains, relief flooding through me, he gave a hoarse laugh. “Am I pleased to see you!” he exclaimed, then grinned and added, “though if you wanted me to leave the party, a simple ‘Begone, freeloader!’ would have sufficed.” Captivity or no, Faren clearly remained Faren. “I’ll make a note of that,” I said dryly, and asked after any information he might have picked up on what the devil was going on. But he knew only that they operated out of a house in Shaemoor, where they’d meant to lock him up, and that in recent months, they’d turned more brazen, bloodthirsty, and focused on rebellion against the crown. “I can't save you and leave the others to rot,” I decided, and managed to smile at him. “Bad form, you know.” 4 Faren, looking determined (for him), said, “Count me in—I may not be a centaur-killing berserker like you, but I can take care of myself.” I’d believe that when I saw it. On the way to the bandits' den, I said, “Glad to have you with me, but do me a favour? Stay close”—I poked him with my sceptre—“and that way, we can protect each other.” Faren shrugged that off, which didn’t comfort me, but he actually managed himself well enough; he didn’t even get blood on his clothes as we fought our way into the concealed and guarded caves, nor when we rescued all the prisoners caged inside, so it counted as a success as far as he was concerned. “If you know any fair maidens, be sure to tell them who rescued you,” he said, and added with a grin, “the dashing Lord Faren … and his friend!” 5 The mission did count as a success for me, too; one of the captives had filched papers about a plot in Divinity’s Reach. We escorted him and the others out, taking down the remaining bandits with impatience (me) and glee (Faren). “We showed them what Ascalonians are made of!” he said triumphantly, and I straightened right up. “That’s right.” When Logan Thackeray arrived to help, Faren swaggered up and said, “My friend and I defeated these delinquents with panache and aplomb; you're just in time to celebrate our victory.” “I’m … amazed,” said Captain Thackeray. I knew the feeling. 6 “Then again,” he said, favouring me with a respectful nod, “I should have known that the hero of Shaemoor wouldn’t let your kidnapping go unanswered.” I remembered Shaemoor, fighting alongside Captain Thackeray with my stick of a sceptre just like Gwen and Langmar once had, all those years ago, and tried not to think too much of it; we’d barely met, outside of a few social occasions he clearly didn’t remember. But I also thought of Faren struggling in his chains, and danger spreading to the home that was supposed to keep us safe, and that we were all Ascalonians together. “No one hurts my friends without answering to me,” I said firmly. I handed over the papers we’d acquired, but to my surprise, it was Faren(!) who proved most useful; he noticed the quality of the paper, and even knew of the papermaker I could track down to identify it. I promised, “I'll get the information you need, without anyone realizing the Seraph are aware of the traitor in the city.” “Be careful,” said Captain Thackeray. 7 Although he warned me, I didn’t realize so many skale existed in the world as I wiped out on that trip—luckily, I found a new sceptre on the way, so I managed to keep them at a distance, and my clothes remained as pristine as Faren’s. When I arrived, I found the paper maker he’d mentioned; Fursarai was a small, prissy man, an impression not helped by his quite beautiful waistcoat, but it didn’t stop him from shouting at a departing Norn about getting his supplies back to the city. “You there—you look like you can handle yourself in a fight!” he announced, gaze fixed on something in my direction; I glanced over my shoulder, but none of the Seraph seemed to be behind me, nor anyone else. He gabbled something about the garrison and cowardly guards at the empty air—unless—unless "you there" was supposed to mean me? What a boor: but unfortunately, a boor who could direct me to Faren’s attackers. Friendship had its sacrifices. I looked at my silk sleeves, and sighed. FIVE 1 “What do you cost?” Cin Fursarai demanded, and now I preferred to believe he wanted a replacement for that Norn. It was flattering, I suppose, that he looked at me—a young noblewoman in silk, wool, and fine leather, carrying only a sceptre and a small sword—and thought I looked like someone who could fight. “I’m not a mercenary,” I said, and added: “I'm here to ask for help identifying the craftsmanship of a piece of handmade paper.” Fursarai sniffed. “If you found quality paper in Divinity’s Reach, I can assure you, I made it.” By sheer force of will, I didn’t roll my eyes—I had a conspiracy to unearth, never mind how irritating this little prig was—and instead requested his help, only for him to sniff again and go on about how he had no loyalty to the crown, because he happened to live in Lion’s Arch. He had red hair and dressed in high Rurikton fashion; he had to be Ascalonian, descendant of refugees saved by Kryta’s rulers, yet—yet— 2 It didn’t matter. It didn’t, not right now—and anyway, our fashions had spread far and wide, Lion’s Arch had long ago drowned its history, and true Ascalonian identity meant more than ancestry, whatever they might say in Rurikton. Deborah had taught me that much; if he didn’t care about it, then I wouldn’t, either. Easier said than done, though. “I need this information as soon as possible,” I told him. “But why should I trust you?” he retorted. “Who are you, anyway?” 3 I lifted my chin, and for all I might tell myself, I felt as if the pride of generations clustered about me, even with my foremothers’ spirits hopefully at peace in the Hall of Echoes. I had not forgotten what I came from. All those Langmars, the children and children’s children of Gwen Thackeray’s great captain. The Krytans they’d married now and then, abandoning an easy heritage to transplant themselves into Rurikton, absorbed into Ascalonian life and identity. The Fairchilds in Ebonhawke, kin of the last kings, of the duke who still haunted Ascalon and his martyred daughter. They’d fought a long defeat, on and on, yet managed to keep a last corner of human Ascalon alive; my aunt still worked to keep Ebonhawke standing while this man sneered over paper. “I am Lady Althea Fairchild of Divinity’s Reach and Ebonhawke,” I said. 4 Fursarai eyed me suspiciously. “Well, which one?” Despite myself, my defiance flickered. I would always be Ascalonian above all else, yet I would always serve the queen, too, and set myself against the enemies of Kryta. I belonged to Ebonhawke, my father’s land, my birthplace and my pride; I belonged to Divinity’s Reach, the only home I knew, where my mother’s people had lived and fought for generations. Anise always called me a creature of two faces, and I supposed I was. “I don’t know,” I admitted. 5 He grunted. “Explains why you don’t stink like the rest, anyway.” “Thank you,” I replied dryly. After a minute of meditation (not helped by Fursarai’s string of complaints), we headed out. I was just about ready to kill him myself by the time we got to the Shaemoor garrison; he’d have easily died without me fighting skale and centaurs and one exceptionally large spider by sceptre and sword, but he made not the slightest attempt to defend himself, just cowering against his bull and yelping the entire way there. That was before I had to take down three centaur catapults and Lyssa knew how many centaurs, with maybe two Seraph backing me up. Naturally, his gratitude upon entering the garrison amounted to checking his supplies three times, turning to me, and pronouncing: “I feel like I was run over by a herd of marauding dolyaks!” 6 Irritation aside, he did supply the information I needed, admitting that he sold his paper to Minister Zamon. Zamon, the man who’d all but gloated at my mother when Deborah died, purely—I thought then—because of malice at the suffering of a rival. And then, not long ago: the man who’d sneered at my defense of Shaemoor. “He has excellent taste,” Fursarai said, his glance clearly implying that I didn’t. As if he’d know. I silently decided that I’d never buy anything from him, even if I had to go to Lion’s Arch myself to find another papermaker. I smiled and said, “Don’t leave Divinity’s Reach.” 7 I found Captain Thackeray in the Seraph Headquarters, deep in a discussion with Anise, of all people, but his head snapped up when he caught sight of me. “Do you have any news?” “Fursarai admitted he made the paper for Minister Zamon,” I said, suppressing any signs of satisfaction. Well, mostly; Anise cast an amused look in my direction. “Setting up citizens to be robbed and brutalized?” exclaimed Captain Thackeray. “That's out-and-out treason.” Why, so it was.

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1) The Fairchilds in Ebonhawke, kin of ... the duke who still haunted Ascalon and his martyred daughter: i.e., Duke Barradin, while his daughter, Lady Althea—this Althea’s namesake—was burned alive by the Charr.

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SIX 1 “But where are my manners?” said Captain Thackeray, whom I’d never seen with so much as a wrinkle in his surcoat or a hair out of place. “Allow me to introduce you to Countess Anise, Master Exemplar of the Shining Blade.” Bemused, I nodded at my mentor of years, while Anise bowed with a faint, ironic smile. Disregarding the matter of manners, she said smoothly, “Minister Wi’s hosting a party tonight; it’ll be a good opportunity to eavesdrop on ministers, their allies, and enemies.” Captain Thackeray couldn’t quite bring himself to disagree, but clearly wanted to; he proposed a (perfectly legal) raid on Zamon’s house instead, and worse still, left the choice to me, insisting that he couldn’t give me orders—even though he clearly had no idea who I was. In fact, I wasn’t even sure he’d realized I had a name. 2 Naturally, I consulted with Anise—Thackeray or no Thackeray, she was my guide and teacher. “Personally,” she said in her light voice, “I prefer convivial, face-to-face situations. Then again, cloak-and-dagger skulduggery is always fun.” I laughed. “The way you describe it, it all sounds so charming; I’ll have to think it over.” I didn’t, actually. Minister Wi lived in Rurikton, and Faren was my best friend; if I knew anything, it was Rurikton parties. 3 “Minister Wi’s party,” I announced. “I’ll see what I can learn.” “Are you sure?” said Captain Thackeray, though with a distinct note of resignation. “You can’t break into Zamon’s place if you attend Minister Wi’s party.” “I’m sure,” I told him. “Minister Wi’s party it is.” He sighed. 4 “Your fellow nobles seem to have a knack for making my life interesting,” Captain Thackeray told me, clearly putting the best face on it. “Let’s see if we can’t return the favour.” “We nobles, Captain Thackeray?” I said, amused; everyone knew about his relationship to Gwen—and his relationship to Queen Jennah, too. “A step down from royalty making your life interesting, I’m sure.” To my surprise, he flinched. Some lover’s spat, perhaps; I decided it was none of my business, and turned to Anise, who promised to meet me at the party—because it wouldn’t do to make us share the spotlight during our entrance. Of course. 5 I listened to a few complaints and registered some unsolved crimes after Anise left, then headed out. At least, I meant to, but on my way to the door out of Seraph Headquarters, I caught sight of an open book—a register. “That lists the names of all Seraph soldiers for the last two decades,” an officer told me proudly. I glanced over my shoulder, undoubtedly looking as suspect as a priest of Grenth on Wintersday, but nobody seemed to be paying attention; the officer had drifted over to settle a dispute over a farm, Captain Thackeray was talking to a lieutenant, and everybody else looked up to their ears in work. I opened the book, scolding myself for being foolish, giving into a pointless sentimentality that would achieve nothing, recover no corpse for a grave—but still, I turned the pages, searching for the name I would know. I felt like a spy, flipping through pages, for all that the registry was open to the public and I had every right to look—and then, there it was, near the head of its page. Sgt Deborah Fairchild; missing in action, assumed dead. 6 “Are you looking for someone?” said Captain Thackeray. I nearly jumped straight into the air; as it was, I flinched as violently as he had. “No, sir,” I said, and realized—Debs would have said no, sir in the exact same tone, would have stood in this very room as I did now, would know it all better than I did. What would she have thought, if she’d known that one day I would be investigating crimes for the Seraph, reporting to Captain Thackeray himself? She’d never pressed me to be anything I wasn’t, never seemed to love me less for being the thoughtless, frivolous creature I was then, but I couldn’t help but imagine she’d have been proud. Imagine how this whole thing might have gone if she’d been alive—maybe we’d be investigating Zamon together, or— “Good luck, Captain Thackeray,” I said, and walked out. 7 By happy coincidence, I already had an invitation, of sorts. My mother’s said Minister Ailoda Langmar and one other. “You want to go?” said Mother, looking startled. “I would have thought you’d be busy slaying monsters or saving people or whatever else you do these days.” I frowned, unsure how to take this; it might have been pride, if not for her studiously neutral tone—did she think all this unimportant, or regrettable, or beneath us? Or was it fear, with Deborah dead on Seraph business? For a wild moment, I longed to tell her, cling to her and admit that I was frightened and angry as well as resolved, to confide in someone who would always see Althea first and the hero of Shaemoor second. “I need to keep an eye on Faren,” I said.

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1) his relationship to Queen Jennah: Jennah is the Queen of Kryta, and a beautiful young woman; it’s widely rumoured that she and Logan are having an affair. The last time royalty made his life especially interesting was when he deserted his dragon-hunting guild, Destiny's Edge, out of love for Jennah.

--------------------------------------------------------------------- SEVEN 1 I headed back to Rurikton for the party, though a good while before it was set to begin. I hadn’t been home for a while—months, though it felt like longer—and I wanted to get my bearings. I strolled past the familiar stone gryphons, a light calm settling over me. It deepened as I made my way down the streets, passing refugees and servants who gave slight bows: respectful, no more. Clusters of nobles nodded familiarly at me. I stopped by local traders, most of whom I knew by name. One bookseller had a pair of rare books on Ascalonian history, one of which I’d wanted for ages; I purchased them on the spot, and after these weeks of fighting and investigating and rescuing, it was a pleasure to let it all slide for a moment, and decide that today was already a success. 2 I personally carried my books to Langmar Manor, since I’d forgotten to bring any servants, and didn’t feel very much inclined to send for one now. Oddly enough, I had gotten used to managing on my own. The walk from the district square was a short and easy one in any case; I strolled down the streets, encountering nothing worse than a few seditious posters I tore down, and a man complaining about Captain Thackeray to an unsympathetic friend. “You know, just because your wife’s taken a shine to Logan Thackeray doesn’t make him a bad guy—he’s cursed.” At the first man’s scoff, the friend added, “Cursed with good looks and true Ascalonian blood! It’s not his fault that every woman fawns over him.” Not every woman, I thought. 3 The people of Rurikton had always mingled at the Maiden’s Whisper as well as Rurikton at large, so I attracted no particular curiosity when I strolled into the tavern. Several other lords and ladies stood near the entrance, smiling and lifting their glasses towards me as I passed, while everyone else simply continued their own conversations—despite the Norn inexplicably towering at the side of the room. “I like that Minister Caudecus,” one girl announced. “To Queen Jennah!” someone just out of sight said, echoed by a dozen toasts to the queen, Divinity’s Reach, Captain Thackeray, and assorted ministers. Across the hall, a man bellowed drunkenly, “Show me a woman who can wrestle a bear, and I’ll show you a keeper!” “If the Charr think they can come here,” said a woman, her voice clear and pleasant, “me and my meat cleaver will tell them otherwise.” I smiled; despite everything, it really was good to be home. 4 I spent the last few hours before the party skulking around Rurikton, but found nothing beyond a particularly incompetent group of adventurers and ordinary conversation on the street. Returning to the inn, I searched for a relatively secluded place, found it in a library, and closed my eyes, peering through those of a near-invisible clone as she drifted through Minister Wi’s manor. She wasn’t caught, but turned up nothing except preparations for the party. I was sure there had to be something we’d missed, but apparently not. Well, Zamon might be acting in secrecy. Might. I resigned myself to the inevitable: I would only discover what I needed to know at the party, and I would have no preparation beyond what I already knew. 5 When I arrived at the manor in person, the place was positively oozing Ministry guards, for no particular reason. Anise slanted them a glance that betrayed nothing, then eyed my finery with nearly smug approval. “This will be delightful,” she said, apparently no more inclined than usual to bother with such minutia as greetings and farewells. “Having the hero of Shaemoor on my arm will make tongues wag.” Even though it was just Anise, I flushed. So much for separate entrances—but it was like Anise to enjoy disrupting plans, even her own. “Thank you for letting me join you this evening, Countess,” I said, because it was like me, too. 6 “Mingle,” she said. “Speak to everyone—you never know who’ll say something they regret later.” It was an encouraging thought. “Second,” said Anise, “don’t limit your conversation to nobility; servants and guards see everything.” “Understood,” I replied, adding, “I suppose it goes without saying that I should be discreet?” “You catch on fast,” she told me, and touched her finger to the end of my nose, eliciting a startled laugh. “Go and charm the masses.” 7 “You know where to find me if you need me, pet,” Anise concluded, while I still tried to wrap my mind and dignity around the fact that she’d bopped my nose. But at the moment, I found her at my side, setting my hand on her arm and marching forward in her tall boots. She actually smiled when I matched my steps to hers, even if I could hardly match the total assurance of her stride and her drawl—but she smiled more at the sudden hush that fell over the grand room when we entered. “The Countess Anise,” the servant at the door announced, and after a suitably dramatic pause, continued, “and the hero of Shaemoor!” Virtually everyone in this room had known me from childhood, but they all bowed anyway, as if my mother herself stood in my place, rather than the other way around; she’d abruptly developed a cold when she heard Zamon would be there. Zamon himself was nowhere to be seen. Interesting.

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1) Cursed with good looks and true Ascalonian blood: this (and much of the dialogue here) is part of the ambient dialogue near the inn.

#anghraine's gaming #anghraine's fic #ascalonian grudgefic #ascalonian grudgeblog #althea fairchild #ailoda langmar #countess anise #marius corone #deborah fairchild #edmund fairchild #elwin fairchild #lord faren #julius zamon #logan thackeray #captain tervelan #guild wars 2 #pro patria #footnotes ahoy!

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iicewitch · 4 years ago

Text

☕ real boy

a playlist for @stevenrcgers link to playlist: here tracklist and favorite lyrics below

1. blood, sweat and tears - bts Peaches and cream, sweeter than sweet Chocolate cheeks and chocolate wings But your wings are wings of the devil In front of your sweet is bitter bitter 2. brainchild - everything everything A good thing Now you think about it, don't you make it real? The bad thing, maybe it's a feeling I don't want to feel But love is all you need to know But love is all you need to know

3. dumb dumb - red velvet

Like a mannequin Everything is so awkward I should just act like I do normally But whenever I see you, I act so stupid Like my little brother’s robot Everything is so awkward What do I do? I think I’m broken I forgot even how to breathe 4. the zombie song - stephanie mabey And I'd try not to bite and infect you because I'd respect you too much And that's why I'd wait until we got married Oh, and our happiest days would be spent Picking off all your friends and they'd see A love this deep won't stay buried

5. real boy - lola blanc Every time we touch your hands are colder, colder There's no beating coming from your wooden chest Frozen grin, a mannequin When I get closer I can see the strings there underneath your vest 6. who do you want to be ? - oingo boingo Who do you want to be today? Who do you want to be? I think I'll be a teddy boy, I think I'll be a hunk I think I'll be a tough guy and I think I'll be a punk I might just be a fashion star all dressed in frilly rags Or perhaps, I'll cross the other side and walk around in drag! 7. under my skin - jukebox the ghost I can fit two people under my skin Yeah, I can fit two people under my skin And I will prove it if you will listen You crawled up in there, you joined me within I can feel your heart beating under my skin And the beating of your heart is making me bleed from within 8. mr. capgras encounters a secondhand vanity: tulpamancer's prosopagnosia - will wood and the tapeworms Damn, I thought you’re not your imposter. You’re so sure you’re not gonna get caught! Dead in your own skin, but you didn’t choose what you were born in! And another man in your repertoire, ready in your head and fed upon your memoirs Still the same rules apply from the birthday to the mourning What you feel and what you do; are those things really you? And if not, then what is? 9. breaking out - the protomen If you can hear my voice outside these walls (If you can hear me) If you can hear me sending out this message tonight Then break the silence, send a signal back (If you can hear me) I'm coming, all I need is a little guiding light...

10. roaring 20s - panic at the disco Maybe I'm overjoyed, maybe I'm paranoid Designer me up in straight jackets My tell-tale heart's a hammer in my chest Cut me a silk-tied tourniquet This is my roaring, roaring 20's 11. evelyn evelyn - evelyn evelyn We grew up closer than most Closer than anything, closer than anything Shared our bed and wore the same clothes Talked about everything, spoke about so many things 12. looking glass - the birthday massacre A boyish notion of false emotion These words are spoken despite my love A fool's devotion was set in motion My eyes are open now

13. play dead - the birthday massacre Thinking hurts and thoughts don't rhyme To those of us who've never tried To find a face behind our lipstick smiles And as our pretty faces die Our broken hearts will wonder why The makeup just won't hide the scars of time 14. lets fall in love - mother mother There's a game in the world A little bit of cat and mouse With the boys and the girls And if I had to ante up I'd bet on the birds 'Cause they don't have to walk around With the boys and the girls 15. o my heart - mother mother And I pour my heart a new foundation But it don't set hard it just stays shaking And I scratch my name I scratch my name in But it don't set hard it gets mixed back in Oh my heart, it's a fish out of water 16. body - mother mother Take my teeth, tear through my cheeks And take the nose go and dispose Oh would you go dispose, just go dispose 'Cause I've grown tired of this body A cumbersome and heavy body

17. touch up - mother mother I am a makeover queen A swan out of duckling Ugly duckling you're drowning In makeup (in makeup) My makeup (my makeup) Has washed off 18. roman holiday - nicki minaj Take your medication, Roman Take a short vacation, Roman, you'll be okay You need to know your station, Roman Some alterations on your clothes and your brain

19. replicant - they might be giants You've got his eyes Same exact smile All that he has All this will be yours 20. happy days - GHOST Oh, it’s painful My heart is quite a mouthful I’ll tear it out for you I’ll be the sacrifice for you Y’know, things could go exactly how you want it I’d be exactly how you want me Use what’s left of my soiled personality I’m all yours, I’ll do anything 21. girls on film - duran duran 'Cause the crowd all love pulling dolly by the hair By the hair And she wonders how she ever got here As she goes under again Girls on film (two minutes later) Girls on film Girls on film (got your picture) Girls on film 22. nobody - mitski And I know no one will save me I'm just asking for a kiss Give me one good movie kiss And I'll be alright Nobody, nobody, nobody

23. TT - twice I feel like crying, I don’t feel like myself This isn’t like me at all I love you so much Think I’m all grown up now I’m free to make my own choices, but why Why can’t I have it my way The more I try to push you away The more I’m drawn and attracted to you baby 24. in every dream home a heartache - roxy music Your skin is like vinyl The perfect companion You float my new pool De luxe and delightful Inflatable doll My role is to serve you Disposable darling Can't throw you away now 25. the moss - cosmo sheldrake But have you heard the story of the rabbit in the moon? Or the cow that hopped the planets while straddling a spoon Or she, who leapt up mountains, while whistling up a tune And swapped her songs with swallows while riding on a broom 26. green - todrick hall Green! Is a way of life And the millions would kill to see their name up in the lights For the green is okay tonight But be careful what you wish Because you might get what you like 27. guy.exe - superfruit Oh I, wish I could synthesize a picture perfect guy Oh I, oh I Six feet tall and super strong, we'd always get along Alright, alright Oh, he'd pick me up at eight and not a minute late Cause I don't like to wait, no Kind and ain't afraid to cry or treat his momma right 28. the dismemberment song - blue da kid Well once upon a time that's where the clock begins And right after the end Well, that's right where the plot thins And I've got no angel to keep me in line! So I'm taking your narrative and I'm making it mine! 29. me!me!me! - teddyloid I’ve worked hard for myself - What have you done for yourself? When you notice the scattered pieces of the mirror You’ll realize I wanted you to notice Is this still going on? Is this still happening? Even though I’d been waiting for you Even though I loved you 30. alone together - fall out boy My heart is like a stallion, they love it more when it's broken Do you wanna feel beautiful, do you wanna, yeah I'm outside the door, invite me in So we can go back and play pretend 31. get busy living or get busy dying - fall out boy This has been said so many times that I'm not sure if it matters But we never stood a chance And I'm not sure if it matters If you are the shores, I am the waves begging for big moons I'm mailing letters to addresses in a ghost town 32. hi it’s me - ashnikko When I'm with you I have amnesia, I'm weaker than before My stupid brain thinks that I need you, I'm eager to hurt more My best friend thinks that I'm a dumbass My dumbass should be a little more cautious I slip up, I text you, I forget That you were so so disrespectful 33. i’m poppy - poppy Welcome to the new world, I'm your internet girl Open up and you'll see, everyone is happy I like your technology, can you put it on me? The future is so pretty, we're living in harmony 34. idola no circus - neru Come, let’s dance all night in our naked bodies We know, we know your true nature Again putting on a fake face, You’re just like a pierrot ! It’s time to put a mask, a mask On your unsociable faced 35. shine - casey lee williams But baby, it's time to make up your mind I think that tonight is when our stars align Honey, it's time to leave the doubt behind Take my hand 'cause you and I are gonna shine 36. one thing - casey lee williams I was nowhere, I had no one, I felt nothing Lost without a voice and on my own Then a candle's flame brought a brand new name But now you've stolen everything And I'm all alone 37. sweetest cure - hugo What the hell am I s'posed to be Choose a world over me Sitting pretty in my mess On the phone I can't confess Word's out somehow You're the sweetest cure I never got to tell you 38. bang bang bang bang - sohodolls Teacher says that I've been naughty I must learn to concentrate But the girls they pull my hair And with the boys I can't relate Daddy says I'm good for nothing Mama says that it's from him Manic sister thinks I'm cracking Brother says it's in my genes 39. helpless - phillipa soo One week later I'm writin' a letter nightly Now my life gets better Every letter that you write me I'm helpless! He's mine, that boy is mine! Look into your eyes And the sky's the limit, I'm Helpless! Helpless! Down for the count, and I'm drownin' in 'em 40. lifeboat - laurence o’ keefe Everyone's pushing Everyone's fighting Storms are approaching There's nowhere to hide If I say the wrong thing Or I wear the wrong outfit They'll throw me right over the side 41. chase the morning - sarah brightman In you is a world of promise We have both been kept in bondage But you can learn from all my failures Let your life be your dream Integrity, honesty, its too late for me Don't look back till your free to chase the morning 42. no reason - leslie kritzer Everything, everything happens for a reason Be a beacon of light in the world Put a little "alright" in the world There are spiritual guides above Look up and see 'em Perception is reality Just listen to the melody the universe sings 'Cause everything, everything happens for a reason 43. i love play rehearsal - stephanie hsu I love play rehearsal 'Cause you are equiped with directions and text Life is easy in rehearsal You follow a script so you know what comes next Anywho, the point that I'm getting to Is sometimes life can't work out in the way It works out in the play 44. your song - elton john And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple but now that it's done I hope you don't mind I hope you don't mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is while you're in the world 45. the party goes with you - lindsay mendez And when we're dancing nose to nose Darling do you suppose, darling do you suppose This party could be just us two, and I your wife? Oh, oh, the gayest party, sad but true It's true The party goes with you The party goes with you 46. half jack - dresden dolls It's half biology and half corrective surgery gone wrong You'll notice something funny if you hang around here for too Long ago in some black hole before they had these pills to take it back I'm half Jill and half Jack 47. the secret - pierces Got a secret Can you keep it? Swear, this one you'll save Better lock it in your pocket Takin' this one to the grave If I show you, then I know you Won't tell what I said 'Cause two can keep a secret If one of them is dead 48. connect - claris My heart awakes in order to depict the future Even if I come to a halt on a tough road The beautiful blue sky always waits for me Therefore I'm not afraid I won't be disheartened anymore no matter what happens 49. simple and clean - hikaru utada Hold me, whatever lies beyond this morning Is a little later on Regardless of warnings, the future doesn't scare me at all Nothing's like before 50. mountains - message to bears And we could run away Before the light of day You know we always could The mountains say, the mountains say And we could run away Before the light of day You know we always could The mountains say, the mountains say

#gene's playlists

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agentdagonet · 5 years ago

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Echoes, Ch. 29

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Fic Summary: Feet dangling off the edge of the bed, hands still resting on the earpieces of his glasses, Eggsy opened his eyes.

And promptly shut them again, screwing them shut like a child who had the distinct misfortune of biting into a raw lemon. Breathing harshly in his nose and out his mouth, trying to stave off whatever delusional panic had befallen him, Eggsy reopened his eyes.

‘Harry?’

Or: The Hologram Story Nobody Asked For

There had been a card left on his desk, with a mug of tea and a still warm scone with no agent in sight. There were plenty of agents who would do this, leave offerings of a kind to the man who’d kept it together in face of the bullshit, as Eggsy would say; but the card narrowed it down to four.

Percival could have left this. He hadn’t bothered to open the thing yet, but it was a sturdy cardstock with a simple and elegant edgework. That implied a level of class and sophistication that was easily present with Percival, and the personal touch was more in his field due to his being one of a handful of agents who had been with them through the Valentine disaster.

If Lancelot had done this, then she was looking for an upgrade to some portion of her still new feminine Kingsman collection. Between her requests for more easily concealed weaponry for sleek outfits and her more overt demands for more fashionable eyewear she was in his labs quite often.

Eggsy would have written something cheeky on the outside of the card, he couldn’t resist defacing anything elegant while in the safety of Kingsman. He didn’t dare to do so to anything in his and Harry’s house, but give him something vaguely disposable and there was sure to be a tag of some kind upon it.

Harry was the most likely culprit, based on how perfectly the tea was made and the way the scone was buttered, but he also had the least reason. Harry was the arsehole who would ping his glasses to check the time, ask the weather, or simply chat aimlessly because he was bored.

Giving in to curiosity, half the scone in his mouth, Merlin picked up the card and flicked it open. Apparently he was being summoned to a place he’d had every intention of never setting foot in again. At the base of the card was an unfamiliar signature, and looking down at the plate Merlin could see a bit of napkin, “have fun!” written in Harry’s unruly script only made worse by the material it was written on.

So, that afternoon Merlin delegated the mission feed to the Lake, took his specs and clipboard home, and found himself standing on Michelle Unwin’s doorstep.

‘You going to stand there for ages or knock like a real person, love?’ Michelle was stood at the cracked window, peering through and grinning through the blinds at him, and Merlin could feel his ears flush. Some things can be trained and some things could not- but he was confused beyond measure and uncertainty put him on edge. He was a planner, not the type of man to fly by the seat of his pants- his plans had plans, and every failsafe had a redundant one beneath it.

‘Are you implying that those who do not knock on doors are, somehow, fake people?’ Merlin lifted a brow, and he saw more than heard Michelle’s giggle as she left the window to let him in.

‘Or Vampires!’ Little Daisy Unwin popped from behind her mother, and Merlin couldn’t help but be charmed.

‘Vampires, you say? It’s definitely too late in the year for Vampires, lass.’ Merlin followed MIchelle to the table, setting down the requested biscuits before turning to crouch to Daisy’s level.

‘There’s always Vampires! But they can’t come in ‘less you say so!’ The girl seemed to take this as her exit, bounding out from the room and shutting an unseen door. Merlin chuckled as he stood, knees popping, and turned to find Michelle smiling at him.

‘Thanks for comin’ Merlin- know it was unexpected.’ She busied herself with taking a seat, pushing an empty mug in his direction. ‘No requests for tea- you take it an’ like it. I will,’ she acquiesced, ‘allow you to add cream and sugar if you desire- an’ don’t give me that tripe about takin’ tea black like your soul, I’d know you was lying.’

Merlin had rarely felt this off-kilter in a situation. The last time he’d been in this house he was acting on the requests of a ghost, and had left feeling like he’d drained an infected wound. And today was definitely not a predictable follow up to that interaction. He took the mug and poured out a healthy portion of tea, adding sugar but no cream before lifting it for a sip to the bemusement of Michelle. ‘Dare I ask the occasion?’

‘Ain’t no occasion, just figured you was like Harry and didn’t do shit outside your job without an Unwin forcin’ you. So, here’s an Unwin, forcing you out of your comfort zone.’

‘I’d like to believe tea is familiar territory for everyone, Mrs. Unwin.’ He hid his confusion behind the mug, eyes closed to further savour the warmth as it sank down his body.

‘It’s Michelle, you idiot, and it ain’t about the tea- that was just to get you inside;’ Michelle sat back in her chair, hands still on the table, ‘This is gonna become a regular thing, Merlin- you’re going to come to my house, we are going to chat, and I’m going to drag you into proper personhood if it’s the last thing I do. You spies are so for into your heads that you’re forgettin’ how to live proper, from what Eggsy’s told me. Not in so many words, but I can read between lines just fine, thanks.’

‘I hate to disagree with whatever Eggsy’s told you, now that he has begun telling you things-’

‘Oh he ain’t actually telling me shit; but between his and Harry’s blinders to what’s in front of ‘em and Roxy’s bein’ unable to make regular conversation with the boys there’s somethin’ wrong with you spy types.’

‘Dare I ask what you mean by that?’ Merlin didn’t dare follow a train of thought while confused. He’d end up like those late night Wikipedia binges and end up somewhere entirely unrelated.

‘You learn so much abou’ looking for the shit you can’t see that you’re blind to the obvious. You live in this world just like the rest of us, you’re supposedly protectin’ us from the shit we common types can’t handle, but you don’t let yourselves actually be a part of it. You’re here, but you… you lot don’t engage with the world as it is in the day-to-day, just at its worst, and that gets you stuck in a rut you can’t even see, yeah?

‘My Eggsy’s a man now, I didn’ see that ‘til he’d gone off and changed without me and came back to save me from my shitty choices, but he still goes to the pub with the boys from the estates. He hasn’ just shut himself up and waited for things to happen- even when he was mourning for Harry he was still out doing shit that wasn’ related to Kingsman. An’ trying to connect his new life with his old one withou’ forcing people to change- bringin’ Roxy to pub nights or invitin’ his mates to his and Harry’s place for a game night. He mighta gotten some new digs, but he didn’ let you lot turn him into one of you.’

‘Oh certainly not- the shoes alone cause enough talk, and we can’t get him to lose them unless it’s a matter of life and death.’ Merlin didn’t say that he’d personally ensured that he had the ability to defend himself, no matter how he was dressed, between those winged trainers having extra blades and his snapbacks with garottes in the seams Eggsy was never unarmed. He also didn’t mention how Eggsy’s refusal to bend to the whims of the elder generation had done nothing but endear himself to the support staff.

‘Yeah, well, can’ take the estates from the kid no matter how he’s dressed- and you posh types needed a good kick in the arse. The world’s changing, an’ trying to do the same shit to fix a new problem just don’t work. That’s just the way it is- an’ without fresh eyes you can’ see shit. So,’ Michelle lifted a hand and gestured regally to herself and the house around her, ‘here’s your dose of reality courtesy of Unwin. No expiration date, no catch, no choice- you’ll come here an’ get an outside view of somethin’ and you’re gonna like it.’

‘This is quite honestly the last thing I’d have expected after our last conversation.’

‘Yeah, well, I was gettin’ impatient waiting for you to show back up here- figured I’d have to make the opening move.’

‘What made you think I’d come back here at all?’

‘You ain’t the type of person to leave a job half done, Merlin, from what Eggsy’s said ‘bout you over the last year ‘n change. You delivered a message but you didn’t see any of the results of that message- and you’re the person who cares about results just as much as actions.’

‘Are you certain that Eggsy doesn’t tell you anything about his work?’

‘Sure as I am that he’s got no clue Hart’s in love with him.’

Merlin spat out his tea.

‘How are you so sure about that?’

‘If you’ve spent half as long as I have talkin’ with him about Eggsy, I don’t have to explain it. You know. He doesn’t- neither of ‘em seem to have any clue about the other, and they’re both idiots, and I’m about sick of waiting for them to figure it out.’

‘And you don’t have objections?’

‘The fuck place do I have for objections? Am I Eggsy? No. Am I Harry? No. Shit, I’m barely Egggsy’s mum- he practically raised himself, and I have to accept that he grew up withou’ me and is able to make his own choices. B’sides,’ Michelle shrugged a shoulder, ‘with the way you lot go through life, I figure they’re at about the same level- emotionally, at least.’ She tucked a hair behind her ear and lifted her mug to her lips. ‘You, on the other hand, don’t have got a lot of growing to do- just a lot of rememberin’.’

‘I’m not a child you have to guide along-’

‘You ain’t a kid at all, and I don’t know if you ever were- compared to the rest of ‘em, you’ve got a head on your shoulders. Your problem is, it’s facin’ the wrong way. You’re so focused on what could or has gone wrong that you don’ celebrate the good shit. So, today, we start changin’ that.’ Michelle stood from the table and made her way into the kitchen, voice muffled by the distance but still clear. She came back out a moment later with a bag of jelly babies and a twister board whose wheel had been repurposed- numbers instead of limbs and four emoticons instead of colours- a heart, a set of glasses, a beaker, and a question mark.

‘We’re gonna try this today, and if it don’t work it don’t work, but we’re gonna try. You’re gonna spin this, an’ then you’re gonna tell me however many good things that happened to you for each category. You got,’ she gestured to the heart, ‘your personal life,’ the beaker, ‘your hobbies,’ the glasses, ‘your work,’ the question mark, ‘and just general good shit. If you finish the category, you get a prize- and I got it on good authority you like these so don’ play around pretend otherwise.’

‘And if I can’t?’ He was intrigued, if incredibly confused, by Michelle as a person- but perhaps she had a point. There were not many moments free for celebrating a job well done, with so much of the world consistently in crisis. Even mourning was pushed aside to make room for more current problem solving, but Kingsman needed to change. Harry’d known it from before he’d proposed Lee as a candidate, he’d held fast to the need for change all through Chester’s tenure as Arthur and even now was pushing against the elder Agents for change. Perhaps he wasn’t as exempt from that collective as he’d thought.

‘If you can’t think up enough things, I’ve given Harry some nerf guns and post-its to make your life inconvenient. Won’t put anyone in danger, but he’s been encouraged to be as annoying as possible between us meetin’ if you can’t look on the bright side a bit.’

‘And that’s supposed to be encouraging?’ Harry was a shit as it was, having someone else agree with his assessments and make it easier for him to be so did not seem like a positive.

‘Ain’t you seen Life of Brian? Always look on the bright side of life, love- an’ if gettin’ barraged with foam bullets gets you to open your bloody eyes and see the flowers you’re walkin’ past I’m gonna fuckin’ get it done somehow. Get Roxy and Eggsy in on it as well- they don’t know about this now, mind, figured it’s personal like, but Harry’s been your friend longer’n Eggsy’s been alive so he can do what he likes.

‘Change starts at the top- especially with people like you who’re built on image and silver spoons. They won’ even think about doin’ something different until they can see it ain’t gonna do any harm; an’ they won’t start actin’ different till it’s made so normal that they’re the weird ones if they don’t change, too. You’re the heart of them, Merlin- you train ‘em and keep ‘em safe and you kept the lot of them in line after Valentine- when you change, they’ll give it a shot, I think.’

Michelle Unwin had never been the person one could call on to make decisions; she hadn’t ever been the one who knew what was right or wrong in a moment. But she could tell when somethin’ was stuck, she could see (or guess at) the kind of change that needed to happen, and she wasn’t the kind of woman to back down just cos something was tough- not when it came to other people.

She may have fucked up her own life, may’ve made a stranger of her eldest kid and a father out of a bastard of a man, but she was a new woman now- and she wanted to help. She knew she could be of help. She sat across from the imposing Scotsman, who was staring at the board with the same look Daisy got when she was unsure of something, waiting for something to change. She couldn’t have told you how long they sat there, her watching him and him trying to stare his way through a bit of glossed up cardboard, one of each of their hands curled about a cooling mug of tea.

Merlin reached forward, and spun the arrow.

#dagonet writes #Kingsman #Echoes #kingsman fic

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splendidlyimperfect · 5 years ago

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Sting and Rogue barely escape Sabertooth with their lives, and Sting turns to the only place he can think of to help - Fairy Tail. While they try to sort out their feelings and recover from the abuse Jiemma inflicted on them, Sting and Rogue must help the other guilds protect Fiore from their biggest threat yet - dragons.

Chapter Summary: Fairy Tail wins the games and Sting and Rogue finally start to feel safe, but a new disaster pops up in the form of dragons.

Chapters (6/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine Characters: Rogue Cheney, Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Erza Scarlet, Lucy Heartfilia, Wendy Marvell, Porlyusica (Fairy Tail), Makarov Dreyar, Laxus Dreyar, Freed Justine, Future Rogue Cheney, Jiemma (Fairy Tail), Gajeel Redfox Additional Tags: Dai Matou Enbu | Grand Magic Games Arc, Abuse, Physical Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Serious Injuries, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Platonic Cuddling, Sign Language, Magic Fusion, Unison Raids, Grief/Mourning, Dissociation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Friendship, Tumblr: FTLGBTales Series: Part 1 of what i choose to become

-----

Sting and Rogue sat on the bed for a long time. They could hear the shouts and muffled commentary from the stadium but couldn’t make out any words until an ear-splitting cheer filled the air, and the announcer’s voice boomed out – “The winner of the Grand Magic Games is… Fairy Tail!”

Sting felt the ball of tension in his chest immediately unwind at the words, and when he looked up, he was surprised to see the hint of a smile on Rogue’s face. Sting squeezed Rogue’s hand tightly, letting relief and an undercurrent of excitement run through him.

“It’s over,” he murmured, and Rogue gave him a soft look, reaching up and running his fingers through Sting’s hair. Sting leaned in and kissed him, bringing his hand up to brush against Rogue’s neck.

“That feels nice,” Rogue whispered. Sting laughed and pressed their lips together harder, then slowly began to trail gentle kisses down across Rogue’s cheek. Rogue tensed for a second, then relaxed into the touch, letting out a contented sigh when Sting’s lips brushed the hollow of his throat.

Sting moved back up until he and Rogue were eye to eye, enjoying the pink flush that dusted Rogue’s cheeks. A smile made its way over Sting’s lips, and he kissed the corner of Rogue’s mouth.

“You okay?” he asked softly, rubbing his thumb behind Rogue’s ear. “If you don’t want to, it’s��”

“I do,” Rogue murmured, pressing their foreheads together and leaning into the sensation of Sting’s fingers on his neck. “Just… slow, okay?” He swallowed, and Sting knew he was pushing away thoughts of cruel hands and dangerous touch.

“Whatever you need,” Sting murmured. The sun was beginning to set, and the evening light cast an ethereal glow across Rogue’s skin. He’s gorgeous, Sting thought. Rogue was perfect, and Sting wasn’t going to let anyone hurt him ever again.

Continue reading on AO3

Sting began to kiss down Rogue’s neck again, tugging out Rogue’s ponytail and running his fingers through Rogue’s hair. Rogue hummed, drifting his fingers down Sting’s side, brushing lightly over his bandages.

“I trust you,” Rogue said softly, and Sting hummed against Rogue’s throat, eliciting a soft moan. Rogue’s fingers gripped Sting’s hip gently, letting out a soft whimper when Sting’s sharp teeth brushed the skin of his neck. Sting tightened his fingers in Rogue’s hair, shifting until they were pressed against each other, chest-to-chest, and—

“Hey, you guys gonna – oh.”

Sting and Rogue froze at Gray’s voice and immediately pulled apart, Rogue awkwardly trying to find a place for his hands while Sting pushed himself off the bed. Sting tried to sit in the chair Gray had been in before but stumbled, missing it entirely and ending up in a heap on the floor. He tried desperately to steady his breathing and push away the hot flush that crept up into his cheeks.

“S-sorry,” Gray said from the doorway, eyes on the floor and one hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Sting pushed himself up to standing, dusting himself off and refusing to make eye contact. “I didn’t—”

“No, it’s—it’s fine,” Rogue insisted, voice wavering a bit. “What’s going on?”

“The, uh, king wants everyone to come to the square,” Gray said, keeping his gaze averted. His own cheeks were pink with embarrassment. “We’re heading there now, if you wanna, y’know- unless you’re busy. You’re probably busy.” He grabbed the door and moved to head out when Sting responded.

“We’ll be right there.”

-----

By the time they made it to the square, it was packed, and people were cheering and waving their fists in the air. Every wizard from every guild in the tournament seemed to be there, and when Sting saw Rufus standing near the fountain with Orga, he felt a spike of panic flare up in his chest. Rufus’ eyes widened when he saw Sting, but Sting quickly looked away, eyes flicking around the crowd until he saw Gray.

“What’s going on?” Sting asked when they got close. Gray turned to him, arms crossed over his chest, face drawn in a frown.

“Dragons are coming,” Gray said, voice hesitant and confused. Sting blinked at him incredulously.

“But… there are no more dragons,” Sting argued, looking over at Rogue. “They’re gone, they left.”

“Apparently not,” Gray said, chewing on his lip. He glanced in the direction of the castle, and Sting followed his gaze. “There’s some sort of weapon up at Mercurius. Natsu’s there now, he’s…”

Suddenly Gray’s anxiety made a lot more sense.

“Haven’t you two killed dragons before?” Sting flinched at Gajeel’s voice. He turned to see Gajeel leaning against the fountain, arms crossed over his chest.

Sting sighed. The lie he they told for so many years was finally catching up to them.

“It’s… it wasn’t quite like that,” he admitted.

Sting stared up at Weisslogia, tears in his eyes, shaking his head furiously and throwing himself into the dragon’s embrace.

“I can’t,” Sting sobbed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “Please, don’t make me, I can’t.”

The memory faded and Sting was left with nothing but the sensation of scales under his fingers, and a deep sense of grief in his heart.

“They were sick,” Rogue said softly, squeezing Sting’s hand. “All we did was end their suffering.”

Nobody said anything, and Sting could see Gray looking at them sadly out the corner of his eye. Part of him felt like shouting, and the other part was too tired to care.

“What are we supposed to do?” he asked, looking around at the crowd.

Gray shrugged, rubbing his face. “I guess all we can do is wait.”

-----

It was too quiet. The air was thick with tension, and Sting paced restlessly. Makarov had ordered Fairy Tail to remain in the central plaza while the rest of the guilds spread out through the city and evacuated the townspeople. Now everyone was waiting nervously for any news from the castle. It had been several hours, and nothing had happened yet.

Rogue sat on a bench next to the fountain, letting Porlyusica attempt another healing spell on him. Sting watched as her hands hovered over Rogue’s chest, and a sick feeling crawled in his stomach. It had been less than twenty-four hours since Jiemma had given Rogue that gruesome wound.

Since Sting had killed Jiemma.

A rush of cold washed through Sting. All the thoughts that he’d been desperately shoving away were suddenly pushing their way to the surface, and he felt like he was going to be sick. The sound of Rogue’s head hitting the floor filled his ears, then the memory of the white-hot rage that had exploded from Sting and killed someone.

A wave of nausea washed over Sting and he spun around, pushing past people he didn’t recognize and running into the maze of hedges. His chest tightened as his pulse continued to race – he needed Rogue, but he couldn’t go back. The red moon cast a garish light around him, and he looked down at his hands, somehow expecting them to be covered in Rogue’s blood again.

What was happening?

Sting rubbed his hands together, startled to find that they were tingling. He reached out to touch the hedge leaves and they were solid under his fingers, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t really there. What the hell was going on? He shook his head, trying to clear out the strange feeling, but it wouldn’t go away. Everything was fuzzy. The ground under him seemed to sway and he stumbled backward, tripping and falling into someone.

“Hey, you okay?”

The person in front of him was familiar, somehow, but Sting couldn’t place them. He shook his head, staring again at his hands. Why didn’t they feel real? Why didn’t he feel real?

“Sting.” The figure in front of him crouched down – when had he fallen? “Sting, look at me.” Trying to calm his breathing, Sting listened to the voice. Blonde hair. Tall. Scar through his eye. Why couldn’t he remember? “Sting, it’s Laxus.”

Sting didn’t reply, breath caught in his throat, heart beating so fast that he was suddenly certain he was going to die.

“What can you see around you?” Laxus was sitting next to him now, close but not touching. “Tell me what you see.”

Sting looked around desperately, part of him wanting to escape himself, to run away and leave this broken, terrified body behind. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t—

“Sting. What can you see?”

“F-flowers,” Sting gasped, naming the first thing his eyes landed on. “Th-the moon, it’s red, and… and grass, the rocks…” Each thing he named brought his heart rate down a tiny bit, pulled him back into himself a little more.

“Good,” Laxus said. “What can you hear?” Sting shook his head, trying to focus on the sounds around him instead of the thundering of his heart and the pounding of blood in his ears.

“People talking,” he whispered. He could see Laxus nodding beside him, and he forced himself to keep going. “W-wind, the… your heartbeat.” Sting ran his hands over his face, feeling his breathing start to even out.

“What can you touch?” Laxus asked.

“The ground.” Sting dug his fingers into the gravel, feeling the sharp edges of the rocks cutting into his hand. The pain sharpened everything, brought the world around him back into focus. “I can… I’m okay.” He shook his head, glancing over at Laxus. “What happened?”

“You freaked out a bit, that’s all,” Laxus replied, leaning back to look at Sting.

“I didn’t feel real,” Sting said quietly. Laxus nodded.

“That’s why you gotta focus on what is real. What you see, feel. Y’know.” Laxus looked at the ground. Now that Sting was back in himself, he could see the awkwardness on Laxus’ face.

“How do you…” Sting trailed off.

“Have you seen my dad?” Laxus grumbled, not meeting Sting’s gaze. Sting recalled the fight between Ivan and Laxus – how Ivan had been willing to kill his own son. He shuddered.

“Thank you,” Sting said quietly. Laxus shrugged, pushing himself to his feet and offering Sting a hand up. Sting felt light-headed, but the world around him seemed solid again. He took a deep breath, rubbing his face and looking around them.

A deafening roar split the sky like thunder and Sting shouted in pain, clapping his hands over his ears and seeing Laxus do the same. Laxus looked over at Sting in disbelief as the ground around them shook – Sting could feel his teeth knock together from the sensation. What the hell was—

Rogue. Sting kept his hands over his ears and dashed back through the maze, heart pounding in panic as he looked through the crowd. Luckily, Rogue was where he’d been when Sting had left, wincing in pain and covering his own ears.

“Rogue,” Sting gasped, crouching down next to the bench. Rogue looked down at him, wide-eyed, and Sting was about to say something when a second roar split the air, followed by terrified screaming. He watched in horror as something exploded near the castle, and a line of destruction ploughed through the city. Buildings crumbled, giant pieces of rock and rubble flying through the air.

“Sting, that was—” Rogue’s voice was shaky, and Sting reached up to grab his wrists, pulling him close. The ground began to shake erratically, and in the distance, Sting could see flames billowing up into the air.

“Move!” Gray’s voice was sharp in Sting’s ear, and Gray grabbed Sting’s arm, gesturing away from the center of the square. Sting quickly stood and pulled Rogue to his feet, clasping Rogue’s hand as they began to run. The ground shuddered and shook, and Sting could hear crashing and bellowing behind them. A deep, primal fear lit in the center of his stomach, and he forced himself not to look back.

“C’mon, get behind—” Gray’s voice was cut off by a sound like fireworks exploding, and an intense heat began to lick up Sting’s back. A look of terror crossed Gray’s face as he glanced back over Sting’s shoulder, and Sting forced himself to turn and face whatever it was behind them.

It was a dragon.

“Oh my gods,” Sting whispered, stepping backward and tugging Rogue behind him. An enormous shape made entirely of flame loomed over them, snarling and snapping and taking up much more space than it should have.

The flame dragon let out a ground-shaking bellow as a blast of fire shot from its maw. Before Sting could react, the fireball hit the ground in front of them and exploded. Sting threw himself at Gray and Rogue, pushing them back as far as he could as flames licked up the backs of his legs and singed his arms. The smell of burnt skin filled the air, and Sting stumbled to his feet, gagging.

All around him, the air was filled with screams and cries of pain.

Fingers dug into Sting’s arms and he could see that Rogue was shouting something, but it was lost in the din of the disaster behind them. Blood pounded in Sting’s ears and he sucked in deep breaths to combat the searing pain on the back of his arms.

Another blast. More fire. Pieces of the ground exploded, and a chunk of rubble hit Gray on the forehead as he staggered forward. Blood poured down his face, but he ignored it, helping Rogue grab Sting’s arms and drag him away from the hellish scene.

“N-no,” Sting mumbled, pulling his arm out of Gray’s grasp. They couldn’t hide from this. “We can’t run, we—we have to…” He trailed off, turning to face the dragon as white light began to flicker up his arms.

“There’s no way we can fight that,” Gray gasped, wiping blood from his eyes. “It’s…” He looked past the flaming dragon into the city, and shook his head helplessly, fingers digging into Sting’s bicep. “There’s too many, the city, it’s—”

“We have to,” Sting insisted, pulling away from Gray’s touch and looking desperately at Rogue. Everything screamed at him to run from his body, to escape the pain, to do anything but face this dragon, but he was done running. “We’re the only ones who can.”

Everything slowed around them as Sting and Rogue gazed at each other, a million words passing between them without ever being spoken.

Gray’s soft, incredulous voice interrupted their exchange. “Holy shit,” he whispered, staring up at the sky. Sting followed his gaze and his eyes widened when he saw another dragon, blocking out the bloody light of the moon.

A brilliant burst of flames exploded from the dragon’s back, and Sting sucked in sharp breath. Natsu was up there. The dragon was monstrous – maybe even bigger than the flaming one on the ground – and it made Sting feel unreal. Insignificant.

“I can’t believe that idiot,” Gray murmured, shaking his head. “How the hell… what does he think he’s…” Sting hesitated for only a second before reaching out and grabbing Gray’s shaking hand.

Natsu was shouting something from the dragon’s back as flashes of flame leapt from place to place. Sting could just make out another figure on the dragon’s back – someone unfamiliar. Most of Natsu’s speech was lost behind the flame dragon’s roar and the sound of crumbling buildings, but his last words rang through.

This is what our magic is for.

“We can do this,” Sting said softly. “Natsu’s gonna be okay.” The comforting words felt unfamiliar on his tongue and he expected them to taste bitter, but a warmth spread through his chest as he watched the uncertainty on Gray’s face harden into resolve.

Laxus appeared behind Gray and a flash of lightning cut through the air, arcing from Laxus’ outstretched hand and crashing into the fire dragon. It roared at him, but Laxus didn’t flinch. “Go,” he said to Sting and Rogue. “I’ll take this one.” Sparks raced around him as he stared the dragon down, casting him in a frightening silhouette.

“I got that one over there,” Gajeel said, wiping blood from his face as he pushed through the rest of the guild to stand on Sting’s other side. He pointed to another enormous form just north of their position. “You two head that way.” He looked at Sting and Rogue and gestured to the south, where buildings were crumbling, and pieces of the city were exploding into flame.

A soft, warm light ripped through the hurt inside of Sting and filled him with something that might have been courage.

“Get everyone out of here,” he said, turning back to Gray and squeezing his hand. “We can handle this.”

Gray looked like he might protest, but he was already swaying on his feet, blood dripping down his cheek from the cut on his head. Sting pushed him gently toward the rest of the guild, and eventually Gray nodded.

We can do this, Sting thought, turning back to look at the dragons. Bright, holy light burst through his fingers, fueled by anger and terror and exhaustion and pride. Rogue stepped closer to him, shadows mingling with Sting’s light, and Sting took a step forward, fists clenched.

If he was going to die, he was going to die doing something right.

#fairy tail #ftlgbtales #ftlgbtfics #stingue #gratsu #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #gray fullbuster #natsu dragneel #laxus dreyar #fanfic #update #new chapter #my fic

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scarlettwitcher · 6 years ago

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Excerpt of something I might not ever write...

Based on Jolene by Dolly Parton. It's been stuck in my head for a while and I've had this idea bouncing in my head for a while. I wanted to make it a series but I just can never find the inspiration to sit and write so I'm just going to write this part that's been replaying in my head. I'm not tagging anyone, except like 4 people that I hope like it, because I've been gone so long, I don't know who's active and who's not. I bolded lyrics I used from the song.

Dean x Lisa, Dean x Eventual Reader

"(Y/n). "

Your name bounced off of Dean's lips like a prayer. But the only one listening to this prayer was Lisa. It was 4 am and like clockwork, Dean began to move and moan, gasping here and there, grunting, and exhaling your name every few minutes. Lisa could easily guess what his dreams we're. She couldn't stop the way her heart felt so heavy and the way she felt it crack inside. She knew those dreams meant nothing but deep down, she knew they were only roots to what she feared most. Most of her friends had warned her. They had told her of what they've seen and what they were suspicious of but Lisa never had proof because really nothing was going on.

He talks about you in his sleep, there's nothing I can do to keep from crying when he calls your name..

Lisa couldn't bear hearing your name coming from Dean's lips. She stood slowly and made her way to the bathroom, letting the silent tears and choked sobs escape. How did she get here? How was she losing Dean easily? Why were you doing this?

Lisa knew you since you were 4. She was only 6 years older but she watched you grow up. Her town was small and everyone knew everyone. You were the town sweetheart. Everyone loved you, including Lisa. You were gorgeous and nobody could deny it. The way your eyes always shined when you spoke or the way you walked, flawlessly, and Lisa even swore she watched you move in slow motion, just accenting everything about you.

Once you turned 18, you started working at the only burger joint in town. You were the most popular waitress. The place always had so much business because everyone came in to see you. When Ben was 5, he would drag Lisa to the diner so he could tell you about his day at school. Lisa would never admit it but in some way, she envied you. She envied who you were. She wished she was like you. That was before Dean came into her life. After he quit hunting and moved in with Lisa, she felt relief and happiness and she forgot about you. Couple months into Dean living with Lisa, he started working construction with the boys. They always had to leave early in the morning. Most of the boys Dean worked with had gone to high school with you, and some were your father's friends. Every morning they would stop by to your diner to have some of your coffee which was loved by everyone.

That's when Dean met you and when things slowly started to crumble for Lisa. The moment Dean laid eyes on you, it's like the world just stopped. Nothing could describe that moment. He felt like a sweaty teenage boy about to talk to his crush. When you came to take the boys orders, Dean stuttered like an idiot, he was sweating, he even tripped over himself... while sitting on the chair. You watched as Dean made a fool of himself. You giggled but moved quickly to help him up. Seeing your eyes so close to his, your lips almost touching his, his heart just couldn't take the emotions he was feeling. Once you made sure he was okay, you fed the crew and even packed them lunch, on the house, and wished them a good day. Dean knew he no longer was anyone's but yours. Everyday, Dean never failed to show up at the diner and talk to you. Sometimes he'd go an hour or two earlier than usual just to sit and talk to you. Everyday, he felt himself become a part of you.

Lisa knew. She knew Dean was slipping through her fingers. She knew he wasn't hers anymore but she just couldn't do anything. Lisa knew when Dean was leaving at 4 in the morning for work, it's because he was going to the diner. She knew where he spent all of his time. She knew who he was spending his time on. It hurt her too much and she did what she thought was best.

After a few months of Dean appearing every day of the diner, it had been a few days since he'd come around. You thought it was weird and you even contemplated calling him, when you saw Lisa walk in. You smiled wide and walked over hugging her tightly like you always did. However, she didn't hug you back. She actually hadn't moved. She looked at you with pain and anger. "Can we talk?"

"Of course. " You let your boss know you were taking a small break and led Lisa to a booth near the back for privacy. You brought her a water and even a muffin and handed them to her. You watched her as she sat there, staring at the muffin. "You're probably wondering why Dean hasn't come. "

You nodded softly and watched Lisa warily. "He hasn't been around for a few days which is odd since he's a regular. I hope everything's okay. Did something happen at work? Do you need me to take care of ben? "

Lisa swallowed thickly and closed her eyes tightly, wondering just how she was going to approach this with how nice you were being. "No, no, he's fine. He went on a fishing trip. You know, last minute thing. " Lisa knew this was a lie. He was on a hunt with Sam but she doubted you knew anything so she decided lying was a better way to go.

"Oh okay. That's good. I was actually about to ring your house when you walked in. I'm glad everything's well. "

"I came to talk about you... And Dean. " You frowned at her words. The way she spoke them sounded like she had been mourning.

"Me and Dean? Oh Lisa, there must have been a misunderstanding. Were only friends. He comes every morning with the crew for breakfast. It's like a tradition. If it seems like we've been more than friends then I deeply apologize. But I do insist that me and Dean are just friends. "

Lisa only nodded along to your words like she was repeating them in her head from memory. You watched her confused. She started to play with the paper around the muffin before sniffing quietly. She rubbed her nose quickly and sighed. She finally looked up at you but her eyes we're now red rimmed. You finally focused on her face and you could see just how tired and sad she looked. "I know. I know nothings going on but that's the worst part. Nothings going on yet, I'm still losing him, to you. He says your name in his sleep every night. Anytime we talk, it's about you. It's always about you." You didn't know what to say. Lisa's confession was news to you. You sat there quietly, eyes wide, shock evident in every part of you.

"W-wh-"

"Look, I came here to ask you to just please, stop. Stop talking to him. Don't be his friend. Stop letting him fall in love with you. I love him, so much, and I can't lose him. But, I can't force him either. You, however, you have this hold on him, on his heart, that used to be mine, he used to be mine and now, I'm lucky if he even hugs me anymore. Youre this amazing girl and you could have whoever you wanted but just please, my happiness depends on you and whatever you decide to do, I beg you, just stop. " Lisa didn't let you answer as she stood and stormed out of the diner. You sat there, dumbfounded and utterly confused. You started to think about to everything and slowly it all made sense. The lingering stares, the touches, the way he spoke and flirted with you. How you had been oblivious to it, you have no idea but now, you had a choice to make.

You slowly rose from the booth. You heard the door jingle, signaling a new customer, and you knew you had to go compose yourself and finish you shift for the day. Before you could take a step, his voice froze you where you stood. "(Y/n)? "

"Dean? " You turned slowly and there he was, standing in front of you.

"Hiya sweetheart. Sorry for just ditching like that, I've missed you.. And your coffee. " Dean noticed his slip up and coughed his way through the rest of the sentence. You noticed, however, Lisa's confessions ringing throughout your head.

You couldn't stop what escaped your lips. "Do you love me, Dean? "

Dean looked at you with wide eyes but you could see it. The adoration, the way they softened when they landed on you. "Why would you as-"

"Answer me. "

Dean swallowed thickly before sighing softly and nodding, keeping his eyes locked with yours. "Yes, I do. "

You watched him. You watched the way the nervousness seeped through his pores, the way his fingers fidgeted. But the only thing that was sharp and focused was his eyes on you conveying his truth. The truth you just never saw. You didn't say anything for a few minutes and Dean thought he had scared you.

Finally, you got the courage to speak. "Why didn't you tell me? "

"How was I supposed to even begin to explain what I feel for you? "

You shook your head gently and turned to walk away but Dean gently grabbed your wrist and tugged you into him. He caught you quickly and wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips was inches from yours and he caressed your cheek gently. "I'm about to leave with my brother, from here, for good. "

"Dean.. I-"

"Come with me. "

"What? " You squeaked out softly so only Dean could hear you.

"I can't bare leaving you here alone.. Come with me, with us. Come with me and I promise to God I will love and protect you like there's no tomorrow."

You felt your eyes water over, the intensity of Dean's proposal weighing on your chest. You broke the lock you had with Dean's eyes and looked out the window and you felt your heart sink. Lisa was standing there, cheeks wet with fresh tears, she, however, didn't look angry. She looked sad, she was preparing herself to say goodbye. You knew what she silently was saying to you. You looked back up to Dean before letting out a soft breath. "Where are we going? "

@giftofdreams @captain-rogers-beard @sis-tafics @angelkurenai

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cloudidiot · 6 years ago

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ok imma talk about Zeta’s parents becuase i FINALLY figured out what to do with that scar (even though i already had an idea of what to do about it) BUT EITHER IM TIRED BUT I WANNA TALK ABOUT MY CHILD SO LEAVE ME ALONE

so if any of y’all remember that scar on her right hand, i will be explaining how she got it

SO A LITTLE BACKGROUND FOR HER PARENTS: they were demon slayers (OH BOY)

They weren’t leaders of any of the groups but damn thay could kill demons without any help

BUT JUST TO LET YOU GUYS KNOW THEY DID CARE ABOUT THEIR DAUGHTER they just wanted her to be helpful in the future once she was older (ya get me?) SO THEY AREN’T BAD(?) PARENTS

So getting into the details of the scar

The Demons Slayers have problems with the demons that they are fighting (why do you think they always need help?) so they figured that things might be easier for them if they had a demon as one of their allies (do you know where im going with this?) BUT as you probably know DEMONS ARE BIG JERKS TO EVERYONE INCLUDING OTHER DEMONS so they couldn’t get any “real” demon allies. and then one day, they were talking about this and were like “hey! what we just MAKE a demon to help us?” but then they thought “nah we cant do that unless we start with a base to actually MAKE one” then DING! they get the idea of having someone to become a demon. but they couldnt do that so next they thought “we should just give someone a little demon blood so they can have some sort of demon power, but is still human enough to make sure nobody notices!” (sounds crazy i know but everyone in high positions in elgaia are crazy) AND THEN YA KNOW ZETA’S PARENTS COME INTO THIS LITTLE PROBLEM AND WERE LIKE “ Hey i know this might sound crazy and our daughter was born like, a year ago, but what if we gave HER the demon blood?” and then BAM next thing you know is that they inject the demon blood into her right hand and now this tiny baby has just a little demon blood in her. BUT since she was of course still a baby, the leaders of the demon slayers were like “yeah we’ll just take her once she is old enough and has developed her powers to come help us”

so everything is fine, they lived a perfectly normal life a few years UNTIL ONE DAY

while her parents were off fighting demons and stuff, both and i mean BOTH of her parents were killed by the same demon while out on a raid with their team

since Zeta was like 5-6(?) she didnt know what had happen to her parents and was like “hello where are my parents???” and then the leader of her parents team came by her house and told her the news

of course she started crying because not just one but both of her parents were dead and she didnt really know what to do so the leader was like “how about i take you in?” you want to know what this child said to a grown-up that knew that this would be the best choice for a child that just lost their parents???

she said no

NO TO AN ADULT THAT WANTS TO HELP HER OUT

and look she doesn’t know the whole thing about the demon blood and the other reason as to why the demon slayer leader wanted to take her in.

since this guy knew what she had in her he was like “ok then i’ll let you mourn the loss of your parents na then maybe. you can tell me your decision when you’re ready.”

she never told him the final decision and lived in her house alone from that day forward. of course she didnt do EVERYTHING by herself, she got help with food and other adult things that she was too young to do her self but other than that she lived by herself.

Now going into present day (she an adult now yay)

She was just you know minding her own business while sightseeing in Ishgria and yo cut this story short imma just say she was put in a really stressful situation that made her fall off a cliff.

THIS is where the demon blood kicks in.

Right now she is thinking “this is it. im finally gonna die and it is not by the hands of a god or demon” AND THEN WINGS JUST POP OUT OF NO WHERE AND HELP HER GET BACK TO A SAFE PLACE.

now you might be thinking “that’s it?” NOPE

when the wings came out she felt PAIN. AND I MEAN A LOT OF IT TOO. it felt like someone was burning her back or stabbing her back repeatedly. this was very painful for her and she couldn’t handle it so the wings disappeared once she got to a safe place.

since she wanted to know what the hell just happened to her, she went back to Elgaia and asked the one person she thinks that might have the answer to that question. do you know who it is? IT’S GRAHDENS!

she went to ask him if he knew anything thing about the wings that she had just gain knowledge about. and Grahdens, being the smart old man he is AND being one of the people who APPROVED of injecting a person with demon blood, DID know about it and told her what happened MANY MANY years ago. they had a long conversation about that and Zeta finally accepted the fact that she has just a little demon blood in her. now remember this isnt like one of her parents was a demon to make her half demon, she just had enough blood to give her a small amount of demon power to her. one of them being the wings.

SOOO YEAH THAT’S THE REASON AS TO WHY SHE HAS THAT SCAR ON HER HAND

i want to talk more about Zeta right now bit im tired and my hand hurts from typing this out.

#zeta #HOOOOOO BOI DID THAT TAKE A WHILE TO TYPE #but honestly i love this child and want to make more posts about her #i’ll make more posts about her but i need to sleep #maybe tomorrow i’ll make more post about her #and maybe you guys will see if she likes any one #if you want y’all can make a guess on who that is but imma keep it a secret for now

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randomrosie01 · 5 years ago

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DC Character

| Jaylin Luciano |

Born into a rich corporate family, Jaylin was raised by her mother Shala Vasir and her Father Leon Luciano. As an only child, Jaylin was raised to be the heir of the Marksman Inc. Even though Jaylin was raised to be the heir, she was raised with love from her family. Around the age of 8, Jaylin’s superpowers began to develop. Getting her powers from her mother, Jaylin can control dark matter (mass effect biotics except in black).

While Marksman Inc. is a corporate business like the Waynes, they run an information ring. The head of the ring is called the Shadow Broker, as the Broker one has information on anybody including family history and activities. The Broker was Leon until Jaylin turned 20 where it was passed on to her. Assuming the role of the Broker, Jaylin is now able to follow through with anyone she wants to look at and gain information for the benefit of Marksman Inc.

By being born in Gotham’s upper class, Jaylin got to see the welcoming of the majority of the Wayne clan. While she did not see Dick being adopted, she was friends with him and got to meet Jason, Tim, Barbara, Cassandra, Damian, and Stephanie. Jaylin is two years younger than Jason, but she was in the same grade as him. Jaylin got to join Jason and Dick in the early years for galas and other activities filled with rich adults.

Jaylin got to meet Jason two days after he was adopted by Bruce. While Jason was shy and a little rude, Jaylin’s attitude set him in his place and made him feel more welcomed to the drastically different environment he was being exposed to.

Due to the family business, Jaylin is extremely close to Zaeed Masani whose family works for Luciano’s. Zaeed is 12 years older than Jaylin and has become her older brother who she looks for when she needs someone who can help her understand the family business and who can help her with her powers.

Jaylin was trained in martial arts and marksmanship. She can speak English, Spanish, Hebrew, Arabic, French, Italian, Korean, and ASL.

At 24, Jaylin is 5′6 and weighing at 132lbs. She has dark brown eyes and long black hair that is naturally curly but is often straight. She has an industrial piercing in her left ear, a beauty mark on top of her right lip, long black stiletto nails, doodle tattoos ranging all over her arms- ribcage-back of the neck-and ankle, a septum piercing, a scar running from her left shoulder down to her hip, self-harm burns, and scars, and a left eyebrow slit.

Jaylin began dating Jason in their sophomore year and continued to date until their Senior year when Jason died. When he died, she became more reckless and had appeared to have a harsher exterior. She had then staged the death of her hero self and came back with a new name, Revenant. She held a small grudge on Bruce for a few months until she realized that he missed Jason as much as she did. One night on patrol Jaylin encountered the infamous Red Hood. While she was largely surprised that he was alive since none of her sources could really spot him, she was overwhelmed with longing and love for the grown man in front of her. Jason was so much more different than who she remembered, but his eyes were still the same from the lousy teen she had fallen in love with.

The name Revenant became a meaningful word for her as she had felt herself die when Jason was killed. Her personality was largely “reborn” as she became reckless and less naive and more aggressive.

| Traits |

+ Family-oriented

+ Genious

+ Hot-headed

+ Flirty

+ Perceptive

+ Virtuoso

+ Artistic

+ Disciplined

+ Loves the heat

+ Charismatic

+ Night-owl

| Extras |

-only child

- can live to 140 years

- became Broker at age 20

- Started dating Jason at age 14

- Joined patrol as the Black Wolf at age 16

- Has a best friend called Zaeed

| When she saw him again |

Laying on the rooftop was a bliss. The darkness giving her a cloak of security in the grim city. Soothing spring wind providing comfort against the heat of the night. She had been sitting on the rooftop for almost an hour now, the clock almost reaching 4am. She was done patrolling and sitting on the rooftop provided her a sense of calmness after the chaotic day she had. Expecting no one, the melancholic girl took out a photo from her suit; a photo of her and the love of her life, the only person she has been able to love after all of these years. It was just them, a picture capturing the effortless smile of the lovesick girl while her guy held her by her waist planting a kiss on her cheek. Dick had taken that photo after seeing his brother soo happy. None of them knew about the photo until a year after Jason’s death. Dick had shown her the photo as a way for her to remember the good. Stuck in her own nostalgic state, she did not notice someone creeping up beside her. “You must be one of the new replacements, Ai?” A deep, groggy voice startled her out of her trance. Without getting up from her spot, she looked at the picture some more before replying “ No, nobody was replaced, some of us just happened to get a new suit, Red Hood”. The tall man looked impressed that she was able to recognize him without even turning around. The girl was good at her job though, she knew about people and their business, but she did not know much about him which really worried her. Putting the photograph away, she stood up. Their height difference was already not good. Him-- laying at around 6 feet easily towered over her. “ So little Revenant, got a new outfit? Did the Bats pay for it darlin’?”

“ No, I designed and made it myself. You have a problem with that?”

“ A little, you just look too easy to beat now with this new set”

Red Hood had lunged at her intending to throw a punch. She dodged and got a few kicks and punches of her own. The fight continued for a few minutes, both getting their punches and kicks in. A good kick from Revenant tore away part of Hood’s mask revealing part of his face. Before surprise hit her, she managed to get him on the ground in a straddle. Taking off his mask created a cloud of longing and desperation. Jason Todd: the last person she ever thought that she would see again. The boy who she saw dead in the arms of his father was now a man with a white streak of hair and a J branded on his left cheek. The boy that once owned her heart was looking at her with a cold, piercing glare. She acted upon instinct and paralyzed him; setting him in place gave her a minute to look at him. His eyes are more sunken into his skin. His jaw and overall face are way more defined than that of a teen. His body is more built than she could have ever imagined. “ You were dead... no, you cannot be real”, the desperation and confusion were felt as she spoke. “ Yeah supposed to be, Princess. Some of us got better”. She allowed him to move again. She couldn’t believe that he was alive after all of these years. Jason got off the floor and walked towards her, she did not move, she allowed him to whatever he wanted. He walked close enough for her to feel his breathing as he said “ Did you replace me already, Angel? The Bat’s new toy seems to be close to you”. She just wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, there was no way she would have been able to move on and here he stands asking her if she did. “No, I have spent the last five years of my life mourning you, believing you were dead was enough to tear me apart, but actually seeing your dead body did the job. I was there when you got buried, I was there for weeks mourning your damned body. I lost the love of my life to a damned clown. I’ve lived the last five years wishing you would come back to me, wishing that you were lying beside me every time I fell asleep.” Her voice was rather quiet, even though she was confident in her words, she was on the verge of tears. Jason walked closer to her, closing the space between them. Her body reacted on instinct and immediately began to kiss him back. The kiss was longing--full of light and passion. All of the desperation kicked in as Jaylin grabbed his leather jacket, pulling Jason in even closer than they already were. The hint of smoke was present in his jacket, which bothered her a bit but at the moment, she could have cared less. All of the desperation, the adoration flooded the kiss. Everything at that moment felt right, it felt natural. Their lips parted once they had both ran out of air. They just looked at each other and they knew exactly what they felt without having to say anything. Jason held her jaw and turned it so that she would look at him. “ I have to go princess, but meet me here tomorrow at 2?” He said in a low, raspy, and out of breath voice. “ Meet me at my apartment instead, we really need to catch up and I would really like to get some privacy. I’ll send you the address” She said. “ You took over the broker didn’t you? Well alright, kitten, I’ll be waiting for the address and I’ll meet you there tomorrow night” He chuckled. Jason walked backward eyeing Jaylin until he turned around and grappled to the next building, leaving Jaylin to process exactly what had just happened and to test if she had just experienced reality or not.

#character concept

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sorrelchestnut · 7 years ago

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EVERYBODY’S PICKIN’ UP ON THAT FELINE BEAT, PART 33

Still not dead! I’m just saying, this would have been a lot easier if I didn’t decide that this story suddenly needed to grow a plot.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Part 13. Part 14. Part 15. Part 16. Part 17. Part 18. Part 19. Part 20. Part 21. Part 22. Part 23. Part 24. Part 25. Part 26. Part 27. Part 28. Part 29. Part 30. Part 31. Part 32.

Title: everybody’s picking up on that feline beat Author: Sorrel Fandom: Fallout 4 Rating: Mature Warnings: None Relationships: Deacon/Female Sole Survivor Series: Part 3 of everybody wants to be a cat

They creep into an abandoned building a few doors down from the Plaza and set up on the second floor, moving low and slow to avoid being spotted by either of the half-asleep guards patrolling slowly around the block. Hancock’s better at keeping quiet than Deacon would have expected, considering the man’s run-and-gun style, but maybe he learned a thing or two when he was kicking around the Commonwealth with Whisper. Even old dogs, etc.

Once Whisper’s satisfied they’ve found the right spot, Hancock wanders off to explore, waving away Whisper’s hissed reminders to stay quiet. Deacon raises his eyebrows at her, but she just tips him a shrug and kneels down to start unpacking her armor, so he decides to defer to her greater experience and does the same.

They gear up with easy familiarity, Deacon tightening the straps on her chestpiece while she does up the buckles on her wristguards, and then Whisper turning around to return the favor, going to her knees and doing up the laces on his boots since he can’t bend over that far with the combat vest on. Normally they don’t wear this much gear—Whisper prefers freedom of movement over being bulletproof, and since he has to keep up with her Deacon’s more or less come to see it her way—but normally they’re not going in this hot, either. Whisper’s decked out heavier than he is, since she’ll be at the front drawing fire, but there’s going to be enough bullets flying around that neither of them are willing to take any chances.

Once she’s kneeling in front of him, however, she doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get back up. By the time she’s finished ‘adjusting his ammo belt’ for the third time he’s half-hard and trying not to squirm, darting glances at the door to the hall where he can still faintly hear Hancock moving around. Not that they haven’t fooled around with witnesses handy a truly inadvisable number of times, but this feels- different. ��He still doesn’t know the lay of the land between her and Hancock, and this’d be a bad way for the ex to find out about the new guy, if that’s the way of it.

“Quit it,” he finally hisses, and she laughs soundlessly at him and gives his thigh a final friendly pat before straightening creakily to her feet, moving awkwardly under the weight of unfamiliar gear.

He picks up her weapon and shoves it into her hands before she can get any more clever ideas. “You be careful with that,” he says, nodding to the fully-modded shotgun Hancock loaned her, since even Whisper had to admit that her rifle probably wasn’t going to cut it for this one. “Bet that thing kicks like a mule. You’ll be bruised to hell tomorrow if you don’t handle it right.”

“Teach your gran to suck eggs,” she says, with a look that says she catches his metaphor loud and clear. “I know how to handle a shotgun.”

He slides his own rifle back into its holster and raises his hand defensively. “Don’t get grumpy with me. I just want to see you in one piece on the other side.”

Her annoyed expression softens, and she darts a quick glance at the hallway to make sure the coast is still clear before she darts forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “Right back atcha, partner,” she murmurs, then dances back before he can decide he doesn’t care about Hancock after all and reach for her. “You ready to do this thing?”

He grins down at her, the fading curl of lust mixing with the heat of adrenaline to leave him pleasantly flushed and on edge. Is it wrong to love your work? Definitely not, when it’s this much fun. “Always,” he assures her. “Don’t forget to make some noise.”

She grins back up at him, mischief dancing in her hazel eyes. “Oh, I think I can manage that.”

~*~

When you get down to it, this op isn't all that different from ones they've run with Glory. Which isn’t a surprise; on the rare occasions they’ve had the luxury of extra backup, Whisper tends to lean towards her little pincer maneuver, in one variation or another. Mind you, she’s usually on the other side of the equation, but hey, Deacon’s flexible. And in all fairness to their Angel of Destruction, it takes a lot of bullets to keep up with the kind of distraction Glory can dish out. Hancock could probably use the help.

“We’re in position,” Whispers murmurs in his earpiece, and Deacon’s sharp ears pick up the faintest scuff of a booted foot against the cobblestone. It’s easy to picture Hancock, crouched just behind her, his own shotgun at the ready. “How’s it looking on your end, Johnny?”

He glances down at the pair of cooling bodies slumped at his feet, all that remains of the guards posted up at the back entrance. “Rocking and rolling, Livvy-love,” he chirps, just to hear her snort of amusement. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Awesome. Be ready to go on my signal.”

“And what would that be?”

“Oh,” and he can hear the grin in her voice, “you’ll know.”

For a moment, all goes quiet, and Deacon, who has a fine-tuned sense of self-preservation and a lot of experience with Whisper’s sense of humor, braces himself. Then, through his earpiece, he hears the splintering crack of a door being kicked open, following in very short order by a shout of alarm, the blast of shotgun, and the much louder blast of a hand grenade going off in close quarters.

Deacon grins to himself as he pulls out his rifle. Time to earn his keep.

It’s a hard fight, but not the worst he’s been in, by a long shot. Things do get a little dicey when all the commotion turns out to be loud enough to draw the attention of the cohort on the upper levels before they’ve quite finished clearing the ground floor, but nobody gets shot, which is all that matters.

Well. Nobody on their side gets shot.

Well, nowhere important, at least.

“Four hundred years, this thing’s lasted,” Hancock’s saying in a mournful voice, as Deacon makes his way back down from a sweep of the upper levels. “Seen me through more than my fair share of firefights, and that’s a fact.”

Whisper makes an annoyed noise under her breath. “What’s your point?”

“Ten goddamn minutes with you and I’m catching a bullet where a patch ain’t gonna cut it, that’s my point.”

“Right, what was I thinking.” Deacon can picture her eye-roll as clear as if he was standing right next to her. “You know that was just a replica, right? It wasn’t actually worn by John Hancock, American revolutionary.”

Hancock’s scowl is audible. “How the hell would you know, anyway?”

Deacon peers over the balcony railing, to see Whisper kneeling next to Hancock, wiping the last of the blood off her hands with a spare rag. “You kids having fun down there?”

“Hancock’s just bitching because he doesn’t know how to duck.” Whisper closes the medkit up with an exasperated look at Hancock, who totally misses the entire byplay in favor of craning his head to peer at the bullet hole in his arm she just finished stitching.

Deacon smothers a snort. “Well, it’s all clear up here. Looks like everyone who’s anyone came down earlier when the party got started. Place is a ghost town.”

Whisper’s grin is so satisfied it’s almost postcoital. “Now that’s what I like to hear. You mind getting our shit from the hidey-hole? I want to check out the lay of the land, and this one needs to let the stimpak kick in.” Hancock starts to sit up, an outraged expression on his face, only to get shoved back down by Whisper. “Yes, you,” she tells him. “Don’t be a hero.”

Deacon bites back a smile and tips an imaginary hat with the backs of his knuckles. He’s not used to seeing Whisper fussing. It’s oddly sweet.

“I’m on it, boss.”

~*~

Hancock’s nowhere to be found when he gets back ten minutes later, but he finds Whisper setting up in one of the back rooms, the one with no exterior windows and the really niche torture dungeon aesthetic. The bodies are gone, but the smell of death lingers like a really oppressive shroud.

“Nice place you’ve got here.”

Whisper twists around just enough to smirk at him. “I thought the meat hooks in the corner made for a particularly gruesome touch.”

“Yeah, really sets the scene.” He drops their packs just outside of the doorway and steps inside, carefully avoiding the still-wet smear of blood from where she dragged the bodies out into the hall. “Where’s Hancock?”

“Going through the den upstairs for any interesting scav. Figured one of us should make some caps off this shitshow, and we’re going to be too busy to haggle anytime soon.”

“Hey, if you’re waiting for me to argue, you’re gonna wait a while. The man got shot in the line of duty, the least we can do is see he gets a decent paycheck out of it.” He leans against the doorway and folds his arms over his chest. “How’s our timeline looking?”

Whisper finishes shoving a chair into the corner and wipes her forehead off against her sleeve before rolling it up to check her Pip-boy. “We’ve got about ten hours left,” she says. “Figure, two or three to get there and get in position, want to be there about an hour early, give another hour of leeway just in case they make good time coming over the bridge, so…”

“Five hours,” he finishes. She nods. “Huh. Flip you for first watch?”

“Fuck that, I already told Hancock he’s taking care of it. We’ve got a hard day tomorrow.” She crosses the room, looping her arms around his neck and grinning up at him. “We need our rest.”

“Rest doesn’t seem what you have in mind,” he murmurs back, but it’s hard to pretend like he minds when he’s already got a hand hooked around her hip, his thumb rubbing against the fraying fabric of her jeans. “You got designs on my virtue, partner?”

She laughs huskily into the crook of his neck. “That a problem?”

He must hesitate a second too long, because she leans back, blinking up at him in surprise. “Is it a problem?”

Well, nothing for it. Might as well go all in. “Depends. Is it going to be a problem for Hancock?”

He can see the exact moment she figures out what he’s asking, because her vaguely hazy look of confusion morphs into a snort of undignified laughter. “Oh, god no,” she says, grinning a little loopily up at him. “No problems on that front, trust me. Worst that happens is he gets high and wanders in to workshop your technique.”

He can’t quite hide his shudder. “That’s not as reassuring as it probably sounded in your head, pal o’ mine.”

Her grin picks up edges around the corners, and she leans up on her toes, presses her mouth to the hinge of his jaw. A second later, he feels her teeth scrape delicately, crosswise against the stubble, and a shiver goes down his spine without any input whatsoever from his higher brain functions.

“Guess we’ll have to lock the door,” she murmurs against his skin, and he grabs her by the hips and pulls her up to his mouth, drowning his worries in her familiar taste.

For tonight, at least, he doesn’t have to think about anything else.

#fallout 4 #deacon #deacon/sole survivor #deacon/female sole survivor #fic #update!#everybody wants to be a cat

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