#overriding their decisions “for their own good” is still forcing a decision upon them

[birb--birb]

Yall really care about Astarions consent and bodily autonomy until it comes to him saying yes to something.

Player: Can I kiss you?

Astarion: If you must. (devnote: [Vampire Spawn] - Joking, delivered with a sigh and an eye-roll, "Oh all right, go on then, if you must..." kind of tone.)

[rebelthree]

@thenightmareofyourdrems​​ (jack) continued from x

truck continues on, winding through the campus, with agent rhodes largely forgotten behind them. the damage to the car hadn’t been too intense, mostly centered around the trunk and agent sato had made a point to witness rhodes move before he’d pressed the accelerator to move the hazmat truck on it’s the way. no doubt other fbi agents would have heard the sound emitted from the crash and come to his aid, though, good luck to them figuring out what happened. for georgie’s part, she remains on the ground, not completely flat-out but with her hands behind her propping her up slightly and her gaze somewhat out of focus. she’s light-headed, body feeling weakened, and blood still remains dripping down half her face. it’s not ideal by any means and a weakness she hates to display to anyone let alone someone that’s in their custody. however, she’s still a little too stunned by the moment to truly be able to comprehend more than the truck moving and voices talking until a full minute later when the truck takes a sharp turn and finds itself off-campus and onto the main streets of the city. 

georgie opens her mouth to speak, though agent sato instead speaks before she could. ‘the drawers to your right, there’s energy bars in the top one and the one two down, there should be some tissues.” it’s all agent sato offers as he watches georgie begin to move slightly in the rearview mirror. he knows she’s frustrated by the look on her face yet there’s little to be done about it now. he has to focus on getting them to their destination. however, he’s heavily considering having a discrete discussion with the director about her once they get back to new jersey. he’s seen her over the last few months, pushing herself too hard. taking risks. he understands, to a point, what might be going on in her head. the incident and the guilt that accompanies it that’s driving her response. he doesn’t think she needs to be taken off assignment or field duty, though, perhaps, the decision to separate agent darrow and her needs to be revised. if anyone was able to get georgie back on track, he thought it might be him even more so than her father or her step-mother for that matter. then again, it wasn’t as if agent sato could override the director’s support of his daughter’s wishes in that respect. besides, he didn’t think ash and georgie would remain off assignments together for long. they had too much of a friendship built between growing up together. that said, georgie’s willingness to throw herself head-first into things at her own expense was going to have to be addressed by someone. 

“i can take care of myself perfectly fine.” georgie bites out, eyes still slightly unfocused but her keeping herself upright in her newly seated position. she’s frustrated and it’s coming out in her tone. she knows better than to try to stand up or even lift herself up into one of the actual seats. that wouldn’t end well with how unbalanced she felt at the moment. hand comes up to wipe at the wetness on her face, blood smearing on her shirt sleeve and causing a frown to etch itself upon her features. bad move. she was stronger than this. it wasn’t as if she hadn’t used her powers in bigger ways before. and yet, even she had to acknowledge that she hadn’t used them as much as she had in the last few days without a rest in-between. dark hues move toward jack, a sigh escaping her. it wasn’t his fault and he already was being forced into the custody of a group he new nothing about with the threat of his friends lives in the balance. he didn’t need to face her unjustified wrath on top of it. “sorry-- just, can you hand me that box of tissues and the energy bar, please. i’ll be fine in a bit. just over used my powers.” maybe not completely fine but fine enough that she could cover it and they could at least begin an investigation. she could sleep later. this was more important. 

[shysneeze]

cliché (cedric diggory x fem!reader)

Cliché 

Cedric Diggory x fem!Hufflepuff!reader

Request: could you do a Cedric Digorry oneshot in which the reader is also a hufflepuff who's always smiling and he sees her crying?

Warnings: mentions of loneliness, crying angsty but also as title suggests its super cliché and soppy but you’ve been warned 

(Author’s Note: This is my first Cedric fic so excuse me if the characterisation isn’t quite correct, its a work in progress also the ending might seem bit rushed but this is a procastination baby and I got spooked last minute that I’m four weeks behind on uni work. )

.

Some might call her a cliché.

It’s rumoured that the hat barely hovered over her head for two seconds before its decision was made, that its decision was made the minute she stepped into the great hall and smiled.

Some will say that the warm yellow tie fixed neatly around her shirt collar and badger crested robes are unnecessary all these years later, that from just one conversation with (Y/N) (Y/L/N), no one could ever doubt that she belongs in Hufflepuff.

With a smile sweeter than honey, her presence can lift the stubbornest of frowns and the lowest of spirits. Patient and loyal, she lends herself as a friend to all, from homesick first years to gossiping classmates.

Like hot chocolate on cold winter day, she’s the most welcome cliché there is, and her reputation precedes her, known to all as the girl with the infectious smile, the never-ending supply of cheerfulness.

Cedric Diggory is no stranger to her smile, the one that sends warmth to his cheeks when their eyes meet during class, the one that causes him to lose all his well earned confidence, that turns house prefect, quidditch captain and school champion, Cedric Diggory, into a nervous wreck.

He’s fallen under the same spell as everyone else, enamoured by whatever it is in her presentation that lifts the mood of an entire room, that holds people captivated and has people longing to be in her company.

Tonight however, he’s seeing her without that smile for what feels like the first time, and his concern logically overrides the part of him that would usually be flustered to be anywhere near her.

The otherwise empty common room is lit only by the gentle flame of the fire, crackling softly in the background. He was about reprimand her, before she turned to face him and he recognised her, even with wide watery eyes and tear-stricken cheeks.

“(Y/N)?”

“C-cedric?” Her voice wobbles until panic suddenly grabs her expression. “Cedric!”

She pulls her jumper’s sleeves over her hands and presses them hastily to her eyes in a scramble to hide her tears. Then, gulping momentarily beforehand, she pulls her lips into a smile so fragile, it falters instantly.

“You caught me.” She forces a chuckle. “I should be in bed...”

She climbs to her feet sheepishly, making her way around the furniture in order to slip past him. He’s almost too dazed to stop her, only reaching out at the last second to take hold of her hand before she can sneak up to the girl’s dorm.

He tugs her back gently, curling her back until she tumble softly into his chest. He steps back quickly to give her space, but keeps hold of her hand too keep her steady. She stares up at him once firmly still again, red-rimmed eyes a mixture of panicked and surprised.

 “Sorry- are you okay?”

“Fine.” She lies poorly.

She scans the room quickly for an excuse, zoning in on a book left lying on the coffee table in front of the sofa she was moments ago sat upon. She turns back to him, mustering a sheepish smile.

“Sad book is all.”

Cedric raises a quizzical brow, slowly leading them both towards the aforementioned book. His eyes scan the title before returning to her own with a knowing glint.

“Really?” He asks. “Transfiguration for Senior Students?”

“Too much change…” She nods, wincing at the stupidity of it. “Fine…”

She drops herself back onto the sofa with a shaky sigh and a hiccup of someone who’s been crying for a while. He studies her for a moment, worried by this teary version of the most cheerful girl in Hogwarts, then, he takes a seat beside her.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, voice gentle and encouraging. “You can tell me.”

“You have enough to worry about with the tournament, Cedric.” She shakes her head. “You don’t need my silly problems on top of it.”

He shakes his head, frowning at the statement.

“I doubt they’re silly, (Y/N).” He says. “Just different.”

Something in his voice, soft, kind and genuinely concerned, has tears stinging at her eyes again and a frustrated sigh falling out her lips. She sniffles again and presses her palms to her eyes.

“This is so stupid.” She hiccups. 

“Hey.” He whispers softly. “It’s okay.”

She freezes when she feels the warmth of his fingertips on her hands for the second time this evening, tugging gently to pull them away from her eyes. She lets him, surrendering to his gentle touch.

“You don’t have to be happy all the time, (Y/N).”

Her breath falters at the statement, the weight of it taking a moment to sink in. She pulls her hands from his to wipe newly forming tears again with her sleeves, the efficiency of which she’s beginning to doubt.

"No one's ever told me that before." She admits, once convinced that she’s composed enough to do so.

"What?" He frowns.

"That I can be upset." She laughs sadly. "I'm sure it's just common sense but no one's ever actually told me before."

"Really?"

"I'm supposed to be the one that has it all together." She reminds. "I'm the shoulder to cry on, not the crier."

She lets out another sigh, looking up at him with watery eyes.

"I didn't know it was possible to be so lonely while never once being alone."

His heart twists at the realisation, that beneath the happy cliché is an ordinary girl shrouded in the worst type of loneliness, the type only felt in a crowded room, that exists in the gaps in lively conversation and that hits you when you try to sleep after a long day spent with friends.

“I don’t know if that makes sense- “

“It does.” He assures quickly. “It does, (Y/N).”

“It’s not that I dislike being the one to help people.” She explains quickly. “I love that people can approach me and ask for help.”

"That doesn't mean it's not hard." Cedric says gently.

"Yeah." She agrees with a sigh. "It just gets to be a lot sometimes..."

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)."

Her eyes drop to her lap, the softest of sigh escaping her lips, dropping her head back against the back cushion of the sofa and staring up at the ceiling. This isn't how she saw her evening going, sat across from Hogwarts's champion in tears, a blubbering mess.

“It’s okay.” She mumbles. “It’s just how it is.”

"It doesn't have to be."

“Huh?”

“You shouldn’t have to pretend you’re okay all the time.” He explains sincerely, even if just a little nervously. “I want to help, even if that just means being the shoulder you can cry on.”

There is a deep honesty in his grey eyes, intense as they hold hers. She can hear her own heartbeat in her chest, hopeful that even in the quiet of the common room, he can’t hear it too. She’s embarrassed enough for one evening.

“You don’t have to- “

“I want to.” He gulps.

“Why?”

There is that blush she’s become so acquainted with, the one that causes butterflies to flutter in her stomach and for people to nudge her and tell her what a cute couple they’d make together when they notice. The blush she’s grown to find so endearing.

“I care about you, (Y/N).” He admits. “I want you to be happy, but I also want you to know that when you’re not, that I’ll be here to listen to you rant or cry, or even just sit with you in silence if that’s what you need.”

She takes the words in, not sure how she’s supposed to reply without firing herself into his arms. He reaches out nervously for her hand, squeezing it comfortingly. The look he gives her is something between reassuring honesty and shy, as if trying to make sure he’s gotten his point across.

“You don’t deserve to feel lonely.”

“T-thanks, Cedric.” She manages after a minute, although unsatisfied about how understated it is. “That means a lot.”

Whether the warmth of his hand in hers or the kindness of his words she’s unsure, but for the first time this evening, her chest feels lighter and although her eyes sting, they no longer well with tears when she’s left to her own thoughts for longer than a few seconds. 

“Someone should have repaid you that kindness before now.”

“I’m glad it’s you.”

Her voice is quiet, nervous to say the words aloud. Yet, they’re bold words, a leap she’s suddenly proud for taking and that she hopes he’ll find the deeper meaning of. At his expression, she knows he does, but that he needs to be sure.

“I mean to say that it means more coming from you than I suspect it would from anyone else…”

“Oh.”

She panics, sure she’s made a mistake from his slight reaction. She goes to pull her hand from his in order to make her mortified bid for freedom easier, but his grip tightens enough to still her desire to flee.

“No, I just need to know you’re not just saying this because you’re upset.” He explains. “That you aren’t just doing this out of gratefulness or- “

“I like you, Cedric.”

There it is, a clear and concise confession, the words he’s never imagined from her lips before, not when he’s so regularly embarrassed himself by turning into a stuttering nervous wreck in front of her.

“I’ve liked you for a while and I’m not just saying it because I’m grateful.” She adds in assurance. “I’m doing it because you’ve just seen me at my worst and not ran, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel completely alone.”

“I’d never run.” He whispers reassuring, rubbing his thumb soothingly over her knuckles.

“Not even now, with puffy red eyes and tear stained cheeks?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Not even now, because you look beautiful regardless.”

She once again worries that he’ll hear her hear racing in her chest.

“Talk about a cliché.” She exhales.

“I quite like a good cliché.” He states, grinning at her softly. “They’re terribly misunderstood.”

She returns his smile, not the one she forced onto her cheeks at the beginning of the evening, or even the one that he’s so used to making him blush, that he knows now was hiding a pain beneath it. This smile is new, honest, and soft, the prettiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I love this smile.”

She melts into his touch when one of is hands comes to cup her cheek, pad of his thumb ghosting over the corner of her lips. He’s decided it’s his new favourite thing, this newly genuine smile.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Hmm.” She hums in agreement. “Yes please.”

Their lips meet tentatively, her face still cupped in his hand, the other holding hers still. It’s slow, he gentle with her and she’s grateful after such an emotional evening. She’d go as far to say that it’s perfect in a way.

“I’m never going to let you feel lonely again.”

“I believe you.”

[nightingaelic]

Fallout new vegas companions taking the courier's place in lonesome road (+ cut companions if that's cool with u) (thanks!!)

The problem with trying to adapt Lonesome Road to another character's experience is that so much of its story hinges on the courier's missing past and the former Frumentarius' struggle to make them understand what happened, why it caused a shockwave across multiple lives, locations and generations, and whether to avenge or let go of the harm that was unknowingly done to the Divide. So if you bring the companions into the mix instead of Courier Six, you either have a long-running story of mistaken identity (a hilarious concept, Ulysses being absolutely positive that the companion is the one who wrecked his dream home while they have no idea who this angry, verbose man is), or a drastically different history for the companions themselves. I say let's give that second option a shot, it seems fun and headcanon-y.

Arcade Gannon: While I don't think Arcade would be directly responsible for the destruction of the Divide, I think he would pale at hearing Ulysses' message searching for Enclave agents and would set out to confront the angry courier on behalf of his hidden family. The Enclave remnants are already hunted by the NCR and the Brotherhood of Steel, and the last thing they need is to be chased out of yet another home over something they didn't personally do. He'd accept ED-E's help wholeheartedly and consider turning back every time he ran into marked men or tunnelers, but his own resolve to save his loved ones would urge him to persevere. I think his determination would intrigue Ulysses, enough to engage the young research scientist in conversation if he arrived at the end of the road in one piece, and the courier might even let go of his vendetta if Arcade revealed that he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart rather than a sense of duty. Arcade would cancel the nuke launch, but would seriously consider blowing up the Legion.

Craig Boone: We know the NCR and Legion were fighting over the Divide before the ICBMs leveled the area. But what if that was by design, rather than by accident? Maybe Boone has more skeletons in his closet than just Bitter Springs, and he was part of a strike team that used old Enclave technology to surprise the Legion forces and seal off an access route, a decision based on math and made by men who had never met the people of Hopeville and Ashton that they sentenced to death. It's yet another weight on the sniper's conscience, and yet another debt he feels obligated to pay, so when Ulysses' call goes out, he answers. The usual dangers of the Divide wouldn't slow him down, but the turbulent weather would irritate him to no end. Upon arrival at the temple, Boone wouldn't mince words because he already knows he's guilty of the charge and he knows Ulysses used to walk for the Legion. If he survived the encounter, Boone would take the opportunity to rain the same destruction down on Caesar's troops.

Lily Bowen: There are about 119 years of Lily's life as a super mutant that are unaccounted-for, and we know she suffers from schizophrenia like many other nightkin. Perhaps it was Lily who discovered the Enclave package and unwittingly left it in the home of America's missiles: Perhaps it was Leo. I'm inclined to think it was Leo, who was probably searching for a cache of Stealth Boys in the old military installations across the desert, and who simply didn't care when a new hole in the earth opened up behind him. Lily, on the other hand, cares deeply, and would set out after Ulysses in the interest of making amends where she could. More so than any other companion, I think Lily would be disturbed by the tunnelers and would go out of her way to crush them wherever they popped up. The marked men would earn her sympathy and she would do her best to knock them out without killing them. After doing the same to Ulysses, Lily would cancel the launch and weep over the subsequent loss of ED-E. She would likely bring the little eyebot back to the Mojave and search for a way to fix it.

Raul Alfonso Tejada: We already know that Raul goes to extreme lengths to avenge the people he cares about, so it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to mix his backstory into the story of the Divide. Following the murder of Claudia in Tucson/Two Sun, Raul chased Dirty Dave and his brothers across Arizona and into the town of Ashton before killing them. Unbeknownst to him, Dirty Dave had a package with him that could speak to the nuclear missile silos hidden in the Divide, and the earth crumbled behind the vaquero as he made his way back home. Though he'd heard of the devastation, Raul didn't put two and two together until Ulysses sent out his summons, and because he didn't have anything planned that week, the old mechanic decided to answer the call. He would put up with Ulysses' messages like a good sport until he encountered the man in the temple, where he would refuse to fight until the two talked things out like civil people. I think Ulysses would be surprised at the revelation that the ghoul he had cast as a villain was following his own quest for vengeance and unaware of the package, and would come away somewhat amused by the situation. They would most likely team up to fight off the marked men, and Raul would cancel the launch and take a wrench to the machines to prevent any more "misunderstandings."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Let's say one of Cass' caravans delivered a package back in the day. Let's say that package accidentally buried the caravan crew and an entire community along with it. Let's say Cass knows, and that's one of the reasons she drinks. While Courier Six walks the Divide out of curiosity about their missing past, I think Cass would do it as a form of penance in and of itself, with a little desire for self-destruction thrown into the mix. The journey would start out as a bender fueled by self-loathing and the fanciful notion of giving her missing caravan a proper funeral, and by the time Cass runs out of whiskey she's already halfway through the Cave of the Abaddon and punching holes through the tunnelers with her shotgun. She would largely ignore Ulysses' cryptic messages and holotapes, but she'd grow fond of the little eyebot that took a shine to her and would tear after it once the mysterious courier repossessed it. Following the final battle, Cass would cancel the launch, but only at the very last second, just to revel in the fleeting feeling of control.

Veronica Santangelo: I just can't see Veronica knowingly or unknowingly waking up a nuclear arsenal with a careless application of tech, but I can totally see her stumbling upon the aftermath of something her old mentor is responsible for. Father Elijah already has a tenuous grasp on the consequences of his own actions, and we know that the prototype tech that controls the Divide's weather is a Big MT project. Maybe Elijah paid Hopeville a visit to check it out and took his investigation a little too far when he discovered the nukes. This would explain Ulysses' directions to the old man to find the Sierra Madre, sealing his doom inside the casino. But where does that leave Ulysses? Along comes Veronica, following her mentor's trail of destruction, and the courier can't help but guide her along the path, show her the meaning of the wreckage and the danger of pre-war technology when left to the discretion of those with old-world values, like the Brotherhood. Along that line, I think Ulysses would try to test her like he does Courier Six, and would schedule a launch to see what she does. Veronica would cancel the launch and resolve to never tell her brothers and sisters in Steel about the secrets of the Divide. She might dump some water on the consoles for good measure. More importantly, I think she might finally realize that the unchanging family she clings to can only die out, or go down the same path that Elijah did.

ED-E: Given that ED-E is a robot, I think Ulysses would be hell-bent on finding whoever sent the little guy rather than consider that the eyebot saw a package with Enclave markings on it, picked it up of its own accord, and deposited it wherever it next encountered old American symbols. Through its communication with the other eyebots in the Divide, I think ED-E would get the picture about the courier's quest for the responsible party and play dumb for as long as possible. The other ED-E would help conceal the mistake to save its new friend, but Ulysses isn't stupid and would eventually figure it out. But how do you effectively punish a robot? Maybe he would set the nukes to target the Divide again, to send any remaining eyebots to the scrapyard for good, but it's a long shot. If he did, ED-E would cancel the launch, but would join its override system capabilities to its counterpart's and use the combined decryption power to ensure that both eyebots make it through the ordeal unharmed.

Rex: This good boy would never even consider entering the Divide. Seriously, what dog in their right mind would go in there? What cyberdog? No thank you. Still, the idea of a dog being responsible for the nukes and Ulysses continuing to hold a grudge is beyond funny. Maybe Rex was part of a mission for the Legion when he still belonged to Caesar, part of the group that leveled the Divide on behalf of the Bull. Maybe that's why Antony says he was "lost in battle," and maybe he's the only surviving member of that squad. I don't see why Ulysses would hang around the Divide waiting for the dog to look upon the hell he'd wrought, and he would more than likely seek the canine out himself as soon as he heard about the King's new pet. From there, the story turns into Courier Six investigating an assassination attempt on a goddamned dog, and the events of Lonesome Road play out pretty much the same way they were written - plus plenty of asides about how Ulysses is going to way too much effort over a creature that can't comprehend what nukes are.

Benny Gecko: Few people know that Yes Man was actually one of two securitrons that Benny managed to incapacitate and reprogram, and while the head of the Chairmen hid his favorite in the Tops for safekeeping, he sent the other out into the world for some recon and experimentation. Imagine his surprise when Yes Man was able to remotely hack into a nuclear missile silo and wipe out a budding trade community. And who would've thought that test run was going to come back to bite him in the ass, right after he was sprung from the Legion camp? I think Benny would do everything in his power to avoid entering the Divide, but I also think Ulysses would have little patience for him and would actively force the disgraced city boy into walking the Courier's Mile by blocking any other path out of the Mojave. Benny would form an attachment to ED-E, similar to Yes Man, but would complain the whole way and confront his tormenter with little remorse. He would also nuke both the NCR and the Legion if he came away alive, probably with some snarky one-liner about "letting the chips fall where they may."

Vulpes Inculta: Vulpes already has a few scorched-earth badges on his Pioneer Scouts belt (Nipton, Camp Searchlight, etc.), so eliminating the Divide is just another tactic in the grand strategy playing out between the Bull and the Bear. All he needed to do was leave a certain package in town, and the problem basically solved itself. Unfortunately, that deserter of his wasn't buried under the wreckage, and now Caesar has ordered him to assassinate the renegade. The fool keeps announcing his whereabouts every few hours or so, making tracking an easy task, but by the third time he feels eyes on the back of his neck and turns to find nothing there, Vulpes can't help but wonder whether the student has surpassed the teacher. The final showdown of Frumentarii would be something for the ages, a clash of philosophies and loyalties with plenty of verbal sparring between the bullets. If he survived the encounter with Ulysses, Vulpes would definitely nuke the NCR.

Ulysses: This cut companion can't very well face off against himself, can he? Unless... he was the courier who accidentally brought the Enclave detonator that sealed the Divide's doom. Given the weight of this grief, I think Ulysses would similarly force himself to walk the length of the Divide, take in the utter destruction that his own actions had wrought, and reflect on the meaning of one man changing the course of history. When it came down to the final room, the final decision, our disillusioned courier would activate the launch as a way of testing himself, testing his own resolve. Like Cass, he would stare at the machines shuddering to life around him until the very last moment, before shutting the system down for good, smiling under his breathing mask and walking away forever.

Victor: The robot cowboy doesn't really know what the angry man on the eyebot keeps talking about. He certainly doesn't remember delivering a package to a place called Hopeville or Ashton. Why would he? Mr. House is very good about covering his tracks, particularly when it comes to eliminating business rivals. Really, it could have been any old securitron. Nevertheless, Victor rolls merrily along in search of the courier who summoned his master, letting his own optics passively take in the devastated wasteland left behind by bombs that launched 200 years too late. Because of his robotic nature, I think it'd be a lot easier for Ulysses to get the drop on Victor and disable him at the temple, then wait until House sent another envoy or came himself. House would probably lose interest as soon as he got his data, which I don't think would stall Ulysses much: Once he figured out the Strip's owner isn't coming, he'd find some way to get inside the Lucky 38. If, however, Victor prevailed in the final struggle, he would nuke both the NCR and the Legion on behalf of Mr. House.

[honourablejester]

Well that got my back up right off, oof.

I was browsing through the TV Tropes character page for Ravenloft, because it gives a nice intro to older lore, and I came across this entry on Addar, Darklord of the Phantasmal Forest:

“Mentioned in the writeups for the Shadow Unicorns, Addar was promoted to Darklord status in the Kargatane's Book of Sacrifices netbook. Hailing from a sylvan forest on an unknown Prime world, Addar chafed against the traditions of unicorns submitting to elven maidens as bonded steeds, seeing such an act not as a bond of partnership and purity, but a symbol of humiliation and servitude. Though the other benevolent fey spirits of his forest recoiled from such bitter, poisonous prejudice, darker spirits rejoiced in it. Most prominently, a female nightmare, who began to contact Addar in his dreams, seducing him with stories of a new forest, far away, where he would become a great champion and worshiped like a god, much like the guardians of his own forest. Even as Addar's ego grew on this noxious fuel, the elder fey strove to break him of his arrogance; they arranged for an elven princess of unparalleled purity and grace, a mighty paladin-in-training, to be given his name and told she was to invoke the pact with him. When she came to summon him, however, Addar fought with all his might, recoiling against what he still saw as an attempt to enslave him and reduce him to a mere beast of burden. His defiance allowed the nightmare to slip between the worlds and attack the elf-maid, setting the forest alight with her burning mane and hooves. Free of the spell, Addar began to flee, only to realize the elf-maid was caught by the flames; choked by the smoke, she couldn't hope to escape on her own... but Addar's pride would not allow him to let her ride to safety on his back. Instead, he turned and abandoned the screaming princess to her death, following the nightmare into the mists. Upon her, he fathered the first Shadow Unicorns, and became ruler of the Phantasmal Forest; a foul and dismal place of dead, dying trees whose black, noxious soul nourished only weeds and evil plants, inhabited only by dark fey and predatory beasts.”

So, okay. I just gonna … I’m gonna side with the Darklord here? Yeah.

Not on the whole ‘seduced by a dark spirit with promises of being worshipped like a god’ thing, that’s fair enough as a villain origin. Carry right on. But the bit where he saw being bound to someone as servitude, and the response of the people around him to that …

Right. So. To sum up. Addar saw being bound to an elf as being bound into servitude, and the fey around him saw this as possibly racism and definitely pride, and their ‘benevolent’ solution … was to send someone to punitively and magically bind him into said servitude against his will, specifically for the purposes of ‘breaking him of his arrogance’?

Um. Explain to me how that’s not slavery?

It doesn’t matter how pure and beautiful a paladin she was. It doesn’t matter that the bond is normally not slavery because (I’m assuming) the other unicorns consented. In this case it absolutely, one-hundred-percent was slavery, because Addar did not consent to it and they tried to magically force him anyway, and I feel like every ‘benevolent’ fey involved in the decision should have slipped immediately over into Lawful Evil, for valuing their tradition over the will and consent of one of their own.

Like, this is phrased in such a hostile way to his interpretation of what was happening to him? I just … I love how this frames him as entirely unreasonable here. That his wanting not to be bonded to anyone is ‘bitter, poisonous prejudice’, that his recoiling while being bound against his will is only struggling against what he saw as an attempt to enslave him, as if he’s wrong about that and it was blindly willful of him to fight. That this binding is explicitly meant to correct him of his arrogance, that he’s being bound to someone to humble and punish him, and somehow this is not slavery? That it’s his defiance that allows a dark spirit to slip into the world, but if you didn’t force him against his will, maybe he wouldn’t have to fight and let nightmares into the world? It’s his ‘pride’ that causes him to abandon the woman who attempted to enslave him to her death, not an entirely reasonable unwillingness to help someone who just tried to force him?

Sorry. I had a surprisingly strong reaction to this, is all.

But. This is just the TV Tropes summary of the story, so I went to look up the original, in case TV Tropes was leaving stuff out or putting a slant on the story in the process of repeating it. And … sort of. The original does gentle a few things:

Addar was not aware of the nightmare’s nature at first

The fey spirits were not aware of the nightmare at all, since she was only approaching the unicorn in his dreams

The spirits could feel a corruption in his soul as a result of the nightmare’s temptations, and without knowledge of her presence, his hatred of ‘servitude’ was the only thing they could tie that corruption to. This doesn’t make their ‘solution’ any better, but it explains a bit why they were so adamant, if the nightmare was having a tangible magical effect for the worse on him

The spirits didn’t think of it as ‘breaking him of his arrogance’, they thought of it as teaching him ‘a lesson about the virtue of sharing and partnership’

The elf they chose had no knowledge whatsoever of any of this, she was just told that Addar was a unicorn who wished to bind with her and was given permission to perform the ritual

She spammed the ritual repeatedly despite his resistance because she didn’t know what was happening and thought he might be trapped somewhere

He realised she was in danger, and turned away from her truly because he didn’t want to bear any elf, and he thought another unicorn for whom that wouldn’t be a problem would reach her in time

Things the original story doesn’t help, though:

It still seems to imply that a unicorn must bind with someone pure, whether they want to or not, and everyone is apparently fine with that

“Such bitter thoughts, coming from an average person, would normally be seen as mere prejudices, and might even go unnoticed by most others. But it was no less than an appointed guardian of Goodness and Nature who was spitting those poisoned words, and that was seen with concern by some inhabitants of the forest, and with joy by others. These last were, of course, creatures of darkness and foul spirits, who were barely tolerated by others as part of the natural balance.” Virtue and goodness mean surrendering your right to autonomy, but for other people wanting to not bind yourself to someone is okay?

“She was training to be a noble warrior-priestess, and the ancient spirits dictated that Addar should be her steed. So, she was told Addar's name and given permission to tame him. The spirits thought he would finally accept the noble partner and once again become true to his nature, leaving the perverted ideas behind forever.” She’s beautiful and virtuous, so she deserves to ride him, and he should leave all ‘perverted ideas’ of bodily autonomy behind him

The ritual is still explicitly a forceful spell, an enchantment that does not require the consent of the unicorn, and can wear away their strength to resist: “Addar, who was finally losing his powers to resist the enchantment, suddenly felt free once again, when the nightmare took his place.”

“As he turned around one last time to see the princess choking to death, he knew in his corrupted heart that he was never going to allow anyone to ride him, under no circumstances. He would be king of his own forest.” This is meant to be the heart of why he’s a Darklord, the epitome of his corruption, and yes it’s extremely selfish to refuse to carry someone out of a literal fire that was burning her to death, and yes to the whole ‘prideful desire to be king and ruler no matter the cost’ thing, but on the other hand is it really meant to be evil to not want people to feel free to use your body against your will just because of your species?

I just … this whole thing sort of rubbed me completely the wrong way. It’s an odd thing to get riled up over, I know. But the whole … Ignore bodily autonomy, ignore consent, take someone’s species as license to bind them into service, declare them evil for not wanting to allow that, if they object too many times just magically force them anyway …

Look. The base fact is, the binding of the ritual is slavery and is not a ‘partnership’ and ‘a prize and honor for both beings’ in this case, for the sole and simple reason that Addar did not consent and everyone else ignored that and tried to force it on him anyway. Partnership requires consent on both ends, and forcing someone into servitude against their will is sort of the definition of slavery.

I just … I’m gonna side with the Darklord here. Not on the whole ‘allow myself to be corrupted and move to my own world where I’ll be king’ part, but on the whole ‘refuse to allow someone to use my body against my will and rebel when they attempt to magically force the issue’? Absolutely yes. The spirits were completely in the wrong there. The elf maiden not so much, because she didn’t know and acted in innocence towards someone she thought had consented, and it’s definitely tragic that she died for that, but I’m mostly going to put the blame for that on the spirits as well. Addar maybe should have helped her when he saw her dying, but they’d given him literally every reason not to by tricking her into, essentially, trying to enslave him and override his will. If someone tries to magically enslave me no matter how hard or long I fight, and winds up in mortal peril because of it, I’m not going to be too pushed about helping them out of that mortal peril either. Gonna be honest.

I reacted really strongly to this. Oof. Sorry.

It’s just … is it just me, or does D&D sometimes have some problems with consent, particularly when it comes to issues of magic, as well as some really dodgy views of ‘virtue’ and ‘evil’, particularly when it comes to magical species and what’s expected of them?

[nat-20s]

this is a Wild™ prompt so no pressure to actually do it, but i’ve had the scenario of “somehow s5 martin ends up in s1-s2, has to figure out how to deal with that” and if u want a narrower thing, maybe how he reacts to seeing someone again/for the first time? (Sasha, Juergen Leitner, Prentiss, etc)

Please have fun with Whatever this is:

“Don’t go wandering off in the middle of the apocalypse” seems like a pretty simple rule to follow. “Especially don’t go through any weird doors, Christ, Martin, how can that possibly be a good idea on any level, do you remember nothing from the last five years of your existence?” also seems like a generally easy thing to keep in mind. And yet, Martin is guilty of the same sin that appears to be intrinsic of all of those who find themselves under the influence of the eye, his need to know something overriding his common sense. In his defense, the door was only like 2 meters away and he wasn’t planning on going through it or even touching it at all. He just wanted to look, because it appeared to be made of a liquid version of frosted glass, and it was translucent enough that he could sort of make out the other side of it. As he got closer, he confirmed that the other side of the door a: definitely didn’t match the rest of their own little hell-scape, and b: seemed familiar in a way he couldn’t quite make sense of.  

Of course, in the dream logic of their reality, you don’t have to place your hand on the door knob in order for you to enter some place new. All it takes is getting within a foot of the door, squinting to futilely try and bring the scene across from him into better focus, and a blink and suddenly he is not where he’s supposed to be. Instead, he is staring down the hallway of his former apartment complex, watching as a familiar woman attired in a red dress and countless words is steadily knocking at his door. There’s a weight in his hands that wasn’t there before, and he looks down to find a fire extinguisher in prime position to be fired. Huh. How serendipitous.

Martin’s surprised to find that he doesn’t feel afraid, not in this moment. It appears that for all the two weeks spent hiding from her still frequent more often than not in his nightmares, for all that the sight of canned peaches still makes him nauseous, in his (probably) waking hours, she is far less intimidating than the myriad of horrors he has faced since. Or, perhaps, it’s simply that he is actually equipped to face her, and that takes away some of the teeth of his fear. Any semblance of preparation, of a plan, has given him comfort when he had little else, and that continues on now. Admittedly, though, while he does have preparation for this encounter, his plan is little more than “get Prentiss off of my fucking lawn and then see where we go from there” before he’s striding towards her.

He’s able to get close to her, about as close as he’s willing to get, before she takes any notice of him. Once he’s about five feet away, she turns her head, and briefly pauses that incessant, infuriating knocking. She gets as far as saying, “Oh, aren’t you inter-” before he sends a spray of foam directly to her face. It’s far from enough to kill her, but it’s enough to kill off some of the worms, so there’s no way that it doesn’t at least sting quite a bit. The CO2 makes her stutter and take several steps back, swatting at the foam at an attempt to get it off.

He considers pulling the handle once again, but he’s really more concerned with getting her to leave than hurting her further, and he doesn’t to run out of ammo this early should she recover and decide to go on the attack. However, he likes to think he’s not too much of a fool, so he keeps the nozzle trained on her as she becomes less frantic.

Finally she stills her swatting, breathing heavily and glaring at him, as much as she can make any sort of facial expression with what’s left of her face. “That was rather rude of you, little one. And we are trying to offer you an escape from being so tragically singular.”

Martin raises the nozzle slightly higher, just enough to bring focus to the motion as he replies, “Yeah, well, it was rude of you to stalk my apartment for two weeks and try to kill me and my coworkers, so forgive me if I don’t feel all that grateful for your oh so generous offer.”

“Hmm. So you are his future. That’s a shame. We are made so loneliness is impossible, it would not wrap itself so throughly into your form. Our love could still be given to you, in this time.”

“I have no interest in your hollow version of love. He has no interest in it. Now, leave.”

Prentiss give an airy wave of her hand, and the worms that had been trying to find any crack in the sealed door come crawling back to their home. “Fine, fine. This was just a bit of fun, anyway. I’ll be seeing him soon enough anyway.”

Martin makes a hum of acknowledgement, though he response makes little difference to her taking her leave. There’s a few silver-grey disgusting stragglers that be promptly and throughly kills with a combination of the fire extinguisher and some well placed stomps. It’s only after he finishes this that the hesitation hits him, the trepidation curling low in his stomach until it solidifies into something akin to fear. He’ll take a worm monster over facing himself any time of any day.

What would he even say to himself? Good luck, the next years of your life are completely fucked? Hey, congratulations, you actually made it to your 30s, so that’s a bit of surprise, but you’re almost certainly not going to get to 35? Don’t talk to a man named Peter Lukas, or maybe just avoid any Lukases in general? Maybe he should lie, tell him things are going to turn out okay when they’re definitely not?

Wait, okay, maybe he has something with the Peter tip. If there’s an opportunity to give this version of him some advice that could prevent future grief, he might as well go for it. It’s like, how badly could he actually mess up the time line with his interference? The world could end again? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Upon the realization that basically no matter what he does right now there’s basically no where to go up but up, he makes an executive decision to go in there and confront himself head on. Hell, maybe that’s the Thing that’s needed to get him back to Jon.

As he goes to turn the door handle he also, briefly, thinks that he should bring up that he’s madly in love with someone who feels the same. It’s not immediately relevant for trying to prevent some of the mistakes he’s made, but Martin remembers being 28, utterly convinced both that love was real and something that was completely unattainable for something like him. Being wrong on the second part of that conviction is one of the few true comforting things he can provide.

The door is, of course, locked, so he goes with plan B. Turns out fire extinguishers are rather handy for smashing things, and he brings it down several times in rapid succession until the knob breaks. There’s one step down, but he had forgotten about the furniture barricade that had been put in place. He can get the door open about 7 centimeters before it refuses to budge, and he begins to wonder if all of this is an exercise in futility. At least his voice won’t be muffled when he calls out, “Martin? You in there?”

There’s nothing but silence, and he sighs and leans his head against the apartment door. “Seriously, Martin, could you respond? And maybe move some of this furniture? If you’re dead that means things are way more messed up than I expected.”

After a beat, a strained voice calls out, “Oh, so a bad impersonation of me is part of your dumb monster powers now? Piss off!”

After a groan and an eyeroll, Martin calls back “I’m not-!” before cutting himself off. He meant to say “I’m not a monster, I’m you” but both of those things are only about 60-70% true. Instead he goes with, “I’m not an impersonation. If I was something pretending to be someone else to get inside, wouldn’t I pick one of your coworkers coming to get you? Like Tim or Jon or Sa- you know, um, one of them?”

Silence.

“You have a peephole, right? You could look through it, confirm that I’m not worm-infested?”

He doesn’t hear a response with words, but he does hear the sounds of motion coming from inside. After a few minutes, the furniture is pushed aside, and the door is opened for him. Jesus, the guy on the other side of the door looks like shit. He probably doesn’t look much better, apocalypse grime covering every inch of him, but still. The man in front of him has deep bags under his eyes and a gauntness to his face that will take a while to ease. Worst of all, he looks painfully young and painfully afraid, and while Martin can recognize himself on a logical level, there’s a forced disconnect that makes him feel like he’s looking at a stranger. The knife that’s being held between them probably doesn’t help matters.

His former self’s voice shakes with a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion. “You got the hair color wrong. And the age.”

“That’s because I’m 32. Also, still not an impersonation.”

“My hair goes white in 5 years?”

“Not in the natural way. You know those hokey stories where people are so scared their hair turns white? That’s...sort of what happened. And it’s not going to happen to you, if I can help it.”

That’s the wrong thing to say, apparently, as the younger Martin’s face twists up. It’s a lot, Martin thinks it’s a lot and he’s far more experienced in the reality of the esoteric, but sometimes things being a lot is unavoidable, and he’s pretty sure time travel is one of those cases. He shrugs in response to the younger’s confusion, and says, “Can I come in? I think I’m here to dole out some advice, and I’d honestly prefer to do while not standing in worm corpses.”

He’s studied for a few brief moments, before he’s told, “You broke my doorknob.”

“You’re never gonna live here again, and it’s not like you were getting the security deposit back anyway. Does it matter?”

The younger one’s face collapses, despondent when he replies, “But. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Martin’s been experiencing a nauseating mixture of anger, pity, and compassion while seeing his past self, but that’s enough to kick in his care-taking instincts, and he really just wants to wrap the guy in a blanket. That’s not going to help either of them, but what he says next might. With a frankly ridiculous wave of fondness for that uncomfortable cot (or, more accurately, for the memory of a certain someone offering said cot), “You will. After you go back to the institute, you, um, you won’t have to stay here again.”

Martin, junior edition, only looks more lost, but he does step aside to let Martin inside the apartment even if he doesn’t lose his death grip on the knife. Martin pulls the door behind him, and as he does so, it transforms into the door that got him in this mess, so looks like he made the right choice. It doesn’t immediately take him (hopefully) back to his own time, but Martin’s gut is telling him that he won’t be spending much longer here. “Okay, so, you have a notebook around here, right? Because I’m about to dump quite a bit of information on you all at once, and I happen to know that our memory for things of this sort is not fantastic.”

The younger one glances over to the table where a notebook and pen are laying and while he moves towards it, he’s clearly hesitant to occupy both his hands with writing. The precaution makes sense, but Martin’s getting tired of it nonetheless due to a combination of running out of time and generally being tired of people seeing him as a threat. With a sigh, he tries his best to evenly say, “The next few years are going to be, um, messed up, to say the least, but hopefully if you have more information than I did, they’ll be less messed up.”

Younger Martin finally concedes, putting the knife down to pick up the pen, and flips the notebook open. Primed to start writing, he gives slight nod of his head to tell Martin to keep talking. Martin takes a breath, lets it out, and spills everything he can think of. “Okay, most immediately, CO2 kills Prentiss’s worms, and enough of it will kill her. A fire suppressant system will do the trick, but make sure there’s a way to actually trigger it inside of the archives. Makes sure the weird spooky table doesn’t get destroyed, it seems like it should be destroyed, this instinct is wrong. Generally speaking, you should get a buddy system set up, as it’s usually when people go off on their own that particularly bad things start to happen, whether it’s on an investigation or going to America. Speaking of, don’t let Jon go to America. Don’t let Tim go to stop the Unknowing. The Unknowing won’t work anyway, but you’ll probably still want to have the circus blown up, just make sure everyone is doing it from a distance. Don’t let yourself work for Peter Lukas, actually don’t interact with Peter Lukas, except maybe to, I don’t know, hit him with a shovel. And most importantly, kill Elias Bouchard as soon as possible-”

“-What?!-”

“-and in particular make sure you destroy the eyes, that’s vital to this whole thing. Turns out he’s actually a 200 year old scumbag named Jonah Magnus, you know, the founder of the institute, and by getting rid of him, you’ll save yourself a quite literal world of pain.”

“I don’t, what, I don’t think I could kill somebody-”

Martin felt a sharp tug towards the door, and he knew his time here was up. “Oh, wow, I really have changed, huh. Anyway, uh, final notes: you’re not going to end up alone and unloved and forgotten before you’re even fully gone, so feel free to lay that fear that occupies a disconcertingly large amount of your mental space to rest. Good luck, and try not to die!”

Before he can hear his other self’s response, he’s back in the wastelands he currently calls a twisted version of home, and Jon’s arms are wrapped around his neck in a fierce hug. As far as he can tell, nothing’s changed from his little literal trip down memory lane. There’s a few explanations for it, but since Martin’s not going to go out of his way trying to prove any of them, he choses to believe in the one that’s the most hopeful; that somewhere, out there, with some well timed words, there’s a universe that has turned out kinder than their own.

[takaraphoenix]

Buffy Season 8: Review

It’s bad. It’s just... really... bad. That’s the TL;DR of this review. There was one (1) good thing about this season and that was the return of Oz. So if you’re looking for something that hypes season 8? This is not it. If you are confused, angry or salty about season 8? Hi, yes, me too.

Starting at the beginning. At first, I was really happy that they introduced more characters of color, with Renee and Satsu. And when Renee was then even “promoted” to Xander’s love interest? Nice. The two were even cute.

But no. That was all just the set-up to fridge her. Which, I am so very tired of that trope. And that is what that was. That wasn’t just a slayer dying during a fight. The entire issue of her death focused on her and Xander, building up to their relationship, setting them up for their first date, having her be prominently featured, just to then kill her off and have Xander avenge her.

What made it feel even worse - worse than just the fridging - was that they really had to fridge one of their very few women of color. And, to top it off, spend the entire issue in which she dies having her subjected to racism. Just great. Really, you managed to make an already shitty trope even worse. That’s impressive.

The racism itself too. Dracula. They just decided to make Dracula totally racist now, huh? and it doesn’t get a pass just because Xander points out in the comic that he doesn’t remember Dracula being this racist. Because he wasn’t. This Dracula just throws around slurs left and right in a way that feels more like the writers just really wanted to use slurs. Because the character? He was suave, charming, heck he charmed the straight men and the lesbians too when he was on the show. He was a smooth talker. This Dracula? He just... He was just racist and rude in general. Why.

Moving on from the racism to the next failure in rep. The gays. At this point in time I am simply convinced that Joss Whedon is entirely unfamiliar with the concept of bisexuality.

I know I’ve already made a separate post complaining about this, but it needs mentioning in the review of the season too. Having Buffy hook up with a lesbian twice, but #NoHomo, just a straight girl in her “experimental phase”. That’s just cringey and also offensive. Just... make her... come out as a bisexual? It’s not like the writing in the show hadn’t already set her up with quite the bi vibes.

Instead, the narrative made it sound like the only options would be to be straight or to now suddenly turn “into” a lesbian. Which is also offensive on itself, because - as this very show had proven on screen - lesbians can come out later in life and genuinely, I adore Willow’s arc. For her narrative, it fit to have her come out as a lesbian, the circumstances and her life fit for that. I absolutely agree that it would have been weird for Buffy to have a sudden coming out as a lesbian at that point in her life and after everything, but referring to it as turning into a dyke was just not great.

And lesbian wasn’t the only option. Though, I’m unsure Whedon knows that, considering that 6/6 canon queer characters are homosexual and 4/4 wlw are lesbians. They just keep introducing more lesbians - which, as a lesbian I am always in favor of more lesbians. However, when you have a very small number (2) of queer characters, it figures you can not cover all the sexualities and it’s even fair that even with two, you still choose to have them both be the same sexuality. But... the more you add? The more questionable it becomes that you limit it to one sexuality only.

This arc would have so beautifully set up for Buffy to come out as bi. But no.

And while we’re on the wlw; one of the things I always loved about Buffy was that the lesbians weren’t just there for the male gaze, they weren’t oversexualized. They desired each other, they even had sex. But... in a normal frame work, to a normal amount, meaning equal to how the straights were handled. I always liked that, because especially in early days, lesbians were usually just there to look really hot and have hot sex that straight men could get off to. Well, consider me very unimpressed with the comics, because... man are lesbians sexualized now. Willow gets a hot constantly naked snake goddess girlfriend whom she can only contact by - and I am not making this up - having an orgasm. So we prelude the trip by her having sex with Kennedy, before waking up all nude in snake goddess’ realm and usually having am makeout session or sex with her too while doing whatever business she has with her. So much nakedness, so much oversexualization. Really... disappointing.

Staying on the romance but turning to the other Summers sister, I truly can’t believe they made Xander/Dawn canon. Like, I can not comprehend they decided to make that a canon ship.

Sure, Dawnie’s had a crush on Xander since the literal beginning of Dawn. And that was... cute, honestly. Fifteen year old girls have crushes on cute older guys who are nice to them. Figures. Adorable. But she kind of... grew out of that over the course of the show? Or so it seemed...

And Xander. One of the things I loved about Xander was that Dawn was always a total no go. She was Buffy’s sister, heck, she was kind of every Scoobie’s little sister. He had always had brotherly advise for her. Heck, in this comic he points out that it’s weird since he’s known her since she was little - and yeah it is. It’s not weird when two people were both little together, but when one was sixteen when the other was eleven and one has babysat the other? That’s weird.

Getting infinitely more disturbing by the fact that she... literally... just turned eighteen. If they had put this into a rather later season, or a bigger time skip, had Dawn been A WomanTM for a few years now and Xander had gotten around to separating the idea of kiddo!Dawnie from the woman she has become, but Dawn is only eighteen, she hasn’t become a woman yet. She just turned legal to bang and thus, a switch was flipped in Xander’s mind, putting her on his radar. And just... no. Why.

And even beyond this decision; Dawn spends the first third of this season being slut-shamed in ridiculous ways. Which is also tiresome. I am the last person to defend cheaters, but there’s a difference between “You cheated and are being held accountable for it” and “You cheated so now you are cursed to be a giant, a centaur and then a porcellain doll for weeks at a time, being publicly humiliated and having control over your body taken away from you”. That was... sure a choice.

Moving on to the actual main problem of this season. The plot.

Starting with the incomprehensibly dumb idea of “hey let’s retreat to Tibet, put a huge target on Oz’s new home and get rid of all of our magic. surely that will not come to bite us in the arse when the bad guys find us”. Naturally, it came back to bite them in their collective asses. This was just... No one objected or pointed out how dumb that plan was? Really? No one? Really?

Anyway, let’s talk villains. And work our way up there. The return of Amy and Warren. Once again, I ask why. I’m still salty about the 180° Amy did from sweet Wiccan to wicked bitch after her stint as a rat, but having her now... hook up with Warren, the second biggest misogynist on this show, who is also skinless. She used a spell to keep him alive but she couldn’t... give the spell a color? Anything? Anything to not make him look flayed? Because this was just unnecessarily gross body-horror.

Not to mention the... lack of reaction? Sure, some spoke grumpily against working with Warren. But... this is Warren. The guy who killed Tara when he was trying to kill Buffy. There really should have been more breather-scenes of the Scoobies talking about this, digesting the fact that the guy was still alive and more so when they worked with him.

But nevermind them, because they’re working for Angel. Because Angel’s the villain behind this season. I mean, he was manipulated into that by Twilight, but manipulated means he still chose to do it.

Now let me preface that I might not ship Angel/Buffy, but that really only factors marginally in here, because this plot would be bullshit even if it were my OTP.

We now retcon the creation of the Slayers as not just being something dirty old men did in a cave, it was now all the greater plan of the universe. Which. Might have worked had Slayers been... naturally occuring. And not created by men, forcing this upon a young woman. Sure, what people do can be seen as the greater plan of the universe too if you will, but that seems like a cop-out that absolves bad people of their bad choices and deeds.

Anyway. The universe created Slayers and vampires and the ““balance”“ between them (which is bullshit anyway because 1 Slayer vs thousands of vampires... not balanced at all), including the now supposedly destined romance between Angel and Buffy.

Both get rewarded with super-powers now so they can super-fuck and thus give birth to a new universe. That universe is called Twilight and manifests as a burning, winged, green lion who can talk (because that sure is how I always headcanoned Angel/Buffy’s children to look like /s) and who, through time-travel shenannigans, has been manipulating Angel into his own creation.

The magic pull between them is so strong that it overrides the “Angel just caused the death of over two-hundred Slayers” so Buffy fucks him.

At which point I just... this season was flat-out character assassination of Angel? He was manipulated by the bad guy. Not controlled, manipulated. He caused the death of hundreds. He threw everything he stood for and believed in out the window for the promise of a paradise where he could be with Buffy, when the real Angel has chosen other things, higher goals, over being with Buffy over and over again, because that’s what they do. That is their whole thing, they choose the good of the world over being together. They have always been a “will they/won’t they?” where the answer is they won’t, because they know they are needed elsewhere, by others. But now Angel just... doesn’t care about all that anymore, or heck about his own son and his friends, ready to abandon everything for this.

And then when Twilight is born and consequently abandoned by Buffy, who still prioritizes her friends, family and the world over being with Angel, Angel actually... needs convincing in the abandoning? Because, again, character assassination. Ultimately, Angel gets controlled by Twilight and used to kill Giles and try to kill Buffy.

But thanks to the Deus Ex Machina of Spike dropping in in the final arc, they know how to stop this. He hasn’t been in this season so far, because - truly in line with this season - he was off being the king of a race of alien bugs, traveling in their space-ship.

To stop this all, they go back to Sunnydale, where of course the “heart of the Earth” is located, the seed that contains all magic, and destroy it, and with it all magic. Also, the Master was apparently always just there to guard that seed. He is now back from the dead!

Let me summarize that once more, just for emphasis: The universe wanted Buffy and Angel to fuck so they can give birth to a new universe that personifies as a green, winged, burning lion but before it can destroy our universe, Spike, now king of an alien bug race, delivers the solution to go back to Sunnydale and destroy the seed of all magic that is being guarded by a resurrected Master.

How do you read that with a straight face? How do you pitch that? This is just so incomprehensibly stupid.

We end the comic with Buffy as a waitress, hated by many, Xander and Dawn now have an apartment and are playing house, Willow broke up with Kennedy because she realized she is in love with the snake goddess she will now never get to see again, Giles is dead, Faith somehow inherited everything from Giles and she is also the designated Angel-sitter now.

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 60

Chapter 60 WHOOT WHOOT! 60 days ago I started this journey with only 2 followers, and now I have 337! I can’t thank you all enough 😭It means so much to me that you all like my little world. 

Warning, PLEASE CHECK TAGS IF YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THEN DON’T READ. Tag lists are closed

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother,  but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 60: First Lady

The general was waiting for you as you both sat down. Kylo and the general sat opposite of you. The lieutenant came up to join you. The general looked at Kylo, who nodded and began, “We are here to discuss your duties as First Lady of the First Order. An inaugural role that has not been done before in the history of the galaxy.”

He paused to make sure you were paying attention and understanding the gravity of the position. You nodded to signal him to continue.

“As the First Lady of the First Order, you have many duties, some more obvious than others. First, you act as the identity of the First Order, the face in which our people will rely upon and trust. You are the focus of unity and pride. The person who gives a sense of stability and continuity to the First Order. You are the official recognition for success and excellence. And you are to support the ideal of voluntary service.”

You were to be the complete face of the First Order. Not Kylo, who is hidden behind his mask, but you. “So you are asking me to be like the queen of England,” you asked trying to make sense of your role.

“Yes, in many ways, except you have actual power when you want it. While she is unable to make decisions for the United Kingdom in its entirety, as that power now belongs to parliament, you do. The only person who can override your decisions is the Supreme Leader himself.”

You watched as Kylo nodded along to what the general was saying.

“You shall be in charge of official First Order Social events like the formal dinner that we just had, and ceremonial events like commissioning of new destroyers and bases. You shall present titles of high honor within the First Order Military, and any civilian titles. You may also preside over military ceremonies such as remembrances of historic galactic battles, and major retirements.”

Your eyes grew wide at the list of things you would be responsible for. The general could see the look of hesitation on your face as you were processing everything.

“Of course you won’t have to do everything alone. You shall have a team of people to help you, one of which is the lieutenant,” he then gestured to Mitaka sitting next to you. “And a few others, you shall not have to handle everything yourself, but you will essentially be supervising it all. You will also be handling many correspondences which will go through your team, and you will be a patron of many charities. We will need to announce a charity today as a start. That is a decision we can make together, so you do not have to make it alone.”

You sat back in your chair as you started to process everything. Your life has shifted from working a 9-5 job, to doing very little with your time, to now being a head of state all in the matter of a month. Less than a month ago you were wondering who Kylo Ren was and now you were to be leading the largest government in the galaxy with him. Leading a group of people you had no idea existed. Being a face to the galaxy when you were perfectly content to just be friends with your match and living a life alone.

You felt his hold on your mind once more, the worry that you felt dissipated. You don’t know whether or not you should be comforted by this or horrified. He was in your mind messing with things.

‘There is nothing to be afraid of Kitten. You will do great. This is one of the big steps in becoming an empress, my empress.’

Something about the way he said that you would be his empress made your belly warm. A spark of desire to be something powerful to him.

You could feel his tendrils of hold swirling with that desire in your mind. Playing with it, caressing it. You closed your eyes at the feeling, your body welcoming the touch. The tiny rational portion of your mind was screaming, but the feeling was so nice that you ignored her.

You felt a hand touch your face, which shocked you out of your bliss. It was Kylo’s hand. His eyes told you that he was just as spellbound as you were.

Both the lieutenant and the general didn’t seem to know what to make of the moment as they both shared a confused face at both of your actions.

Kylo’s hand caressed your cheek before he withdrew it. His eyes never leaving yours. No words were spoken between you, not even in your mind, but you knew what just happened changed something.

You could almost hear the rational part of your brain whimper in pain at being ignored, whimper because of his grip on your consciousness. That rational part being afraid at what just occurred, but the rest of your existence being overjoyed at it. You could feel the tendrils recede slightly and the rational part slowly coming out of the corner that it had been backed into. Still very much afraid of the dark mass that just took over.

The general spoke first, “M’lady shall we go over what will need to be decided today?” He hesitantly looked between you and Kylo, trying to figure out your next course of action.

Without breaking eye contact with Kylo, you responded, “Yes. I think will be best.” You examined Kylo’s face as if it were a rare piece of art. Going over every last detail.

“We should decide what charity you should patron first. Is there anything, in particular, that strikes an interest in you m’lady? Any topic that you would prefer?” You could hear some unease in his voice as you failed to look at him. Your eyes still locked on Kylo.

You could feel the tendrils shift as a thought presented itself, “Something for abused or neglected children.” You watched as Kylo’s eyes phantom fluttered for a moment. His eyes then roaming your face as yours did his.

Both of your breathing is in sync. Two halves of a whole as his hold on your mind made itself at home. The tendrils tucking themselves in the corners of your skull, occasionally skimming your brain when needed, but mostly just there watching.  

“There are many orphanages throughout the galaxy shall I choose one for you,” asked Hux with his voice wavering. You could hear how uncomfortable the whole situation between you and Kylo was making him. You could not see nor hear the lieutenant, but you guessed that he was worse than the well-seasoned general.

Kylo answered for you, “Yes.”

You heard the general stand, “Well sir, m’lady we best be off to our luncheon. There is much to discuss.”

Kylo stood first, holding out his hand for you to take. Which you did. He then tucked your arm under his. Never breaking eye contact as you walked down the stairs and to the entrance of your chambers. You paused as Kylo put on his helmet, breaking your stare and trance. He then faced forward as you walked down the winding halls to the conference room.

You entered arm in arm with Kylo; he guided you to your seat, you never took your eyes off of him. Still enrapt in a trance. He walked with power around the room as he reached the head of the table where he chose to stand.

All around you were the High Command members, most of whom were holograms as they holocommuted in. Luckily for you, Pryde was also holocummuting in. You were relieved at his lack of physical presence. You also noted that there were several other officers standing along the opposite wall to you.

Kylo addressed the room, “Today is Lady Ren’s official first day as First Lady of the First Order,” he paused and you could hear a small applause coming from the High Command, both those who were physically present and those who weren’t. “She has many responsibilities in her new role, you are to do what she asks of you as if it was an order from me.”

You watched as chins raised in acknowledgment. You could see that some were not happy about having another person ruling over them. Kylo sensed this too as his head cut to an older male admiral, “I sense unease Admiral Berand.”

What shocked you was that the man wasn’t even here, he was holocommuting. Were Kylo’s Force abilities that strong?

“No, sir,” said the admiral.

You watched as Kylo marched around the room and came up next to the holo projection of the man. Even though they were technically a galaxy apart, the admiral shrank away from Kylo. “Good, keep your thoughts under control or I will do it for you.”

You could feel the tendrils in your own mind flex with excitement. They apparently wanted the admiral to mess up, so they could arrange his thoughts for him.

Kylo then spoke again addressing the room, “You have all given candidates for Lady Ren’s staff. Her chief of staff will be Dopheld Mitaka, now a captain, but there still remains her press secretary, correspondence secretary,  social secretary, her advisor, and her spokesperson. Five positions to fill. And after General Hux’s initial weeding of the candidates, there are 15 applicants. We shall now proceed with the filling of positions.” Kylo then gestured to the Allegiant General to start. Hux then waited patiently for your signal, waiting until you were ready.

You broke your gaze from staring at Kylo to look to your side. You gestured to Mitaka to come forward and join you by your side. Which he gladly did. You then nodded to the general to commence the application process.

You picked out your press secretary, social secretary, advisor, and spokesperson with ease. You took into account the opinions of Kylo, Hux and Mitaka. The final position of the correspondence secretary was being considered.

Unfortunately, Pryde’s recommendation was still in the running. The young officer that he had put forward as an applicant gave off similar vibes to the man himself. Almost a younger version of himself. You quickly denied his choice. The officer had a look of disappointment and anger on his face as he was forced to step back. You could tell your decision also displeased Pryde as you had a feeling that this officer was going to be some sort of informant to him.

Across the room, you could see Kylo’s body stiffen as he was probably monitoring both men’s thoughts. He barked at the officer to get out and to return to the Steadfast as he was no longer needed here. You watched as he left the room. He was the only rejected officer that was asked to leave before the meeting was over.

Next up was General Parnadee’s choice, a nice young lieutenant with a kind face. Parnadee introduced her, as the other generals did with their recommendations, “This is Lieutenant Amala Graven. She has an impeccable memory. The ability to recall voices and has a knack for routines. She is quiet but very decisive when it comes to printed languages. She has been my trusted personal secretary for two years and I can think of no one better for the position of correspondence secretary.”

From what you knew of Parnadee, even after entrusting your home planet to her, you knew that if she was recommending someone, especially someone, she trusts that you should highly consider the person. You then looked over her file, which was a clean record. She came highly recommended from the academy and she had been promoted quickly into Parnadee’s trusted and highly coveted secretary position.

After sharing a look with Mitaka, you made your decision. You looked at the female lieutenant in the eyes and said, “I believe you will make an excellent correspondence secretary and I would be honored if you would join my staff.”

The lieutenant thanked you and joined the group of others that had been selected. Your attention then shifted back to Kylo as he dismissed them and Mitaka while you were to have the luncheon portion of your meeting.

Everything went by rather smoothly after that, Hux telling those who holocommuted in that they were free to go as no official business was going to be discussed. You were thankful because you were sick of Pryde’s holo eyes watching your every move.

You watched as slowly every hologram was disconnected. Pryde getting in one last final creepy stare before disconnecting. You were relieved when Kylo took a seat next to you instead of his official unused one across from you.

You were in a large conference room filled with only a few generals and admirals. Lunch was served and Kylo relented in taking off his helmet so he could join you as you ate. Small pleasant discussions popped up around you. The Allegiant General giving his opinion here and there to the different conversations.

Meanwhile, you and Kylo ate in a comfortable silence between you two. There seemed no need to say anything as you could feel the tendrils exploring your mind. Seeing how far they could go before hitting a wall or turning around. You could feel them warmly caressing your happiest memories and completely covering those that caused you pain. You felt light-headed but in a way that didn’t make you sick, but as if a weight had been relieved from your consciousness.

You felt as if you could stay in this moment forever. But soon you would have your lesson with the general and soon you would have to move on with real life. But for now, you chose to be stuck in this moment. This little piece of forever.

A/N: Note that I see every comment and reblog w/ # and I love them so much! Tumblr is kinda hard to respond with just note that anything coming from @justanotherhockey-blog​ is from me!

[devnicolee]

The Chosen Ones (5)

Warnings: Slow burn 

Word Count: 10,079

Pairing: M’Baku x Original Character

M'Baku's hands painfully clutched the sides of the window, half of its shattered glass scattered around his feet. His eyes were transfixed on the path of smoke slowly dissipating into nothing like he was hypnotized, as if his intense stares alone could bring the woman who flew out the window moments prior back to him. Every second that passed and every mile she traveled farther away from home and him, his frustration and rage at the people left behind grew. It only took moments, barely enough time for the group to catch their breath and truly process everything that transpired, for his rage to boil over. 

"I hope all of you are happy," he said slowly, voice quiet and deadly as he turned around to face Asha's family and the remaining council members. Despite being in the presence of the Dora and the Black Panther, most of the group shrank in his shadow. Usually, M’Baku’s bark was bigger than his bite, not nearly as terrifying or intimidating as his appearance would have someone believe. But it seemed his gentle giant personality flew out the window with the love of his life and before them stood, simply, a raging giant. 

"Excuse me?" T'Challa asked as silence fell over the group. "Are you blaming this on us?" T’Challa was frustrated, already internally blaming himself for how utterly spectacularly his plan failed. He genuinely thought he was helping, and perhaps foolishly, did not even once consider this outcome. He expected outrage, anger, of course. No decision he made came without those from someone. But this? This type of catastrophe? He was wholly unprepared. But he did know that hearing someone voice the thoughts already swirling around in his mind caused rage to flare up in him.

"Well, who else is to blame King T'Challa? You are the ones who were forcing her to hide and pretend and lie. You all created t-this system that treats her like a second-class citizen, that allows people like that woman to attack her. What in Hanuman's name did you expect? That she would be able to sit here and take that all her entire life?" M'Baku yelled, his voice booming, vibrating throughout the large throne room. 

"Not that I need to justify the choices of this family to you or anyone, Shuri and I have been trying to help Asha. You wouldn't even know her, wouldn't be able to sit and judge us if I had not forced her to join the tribe and take that job in Jabariland in the first place! She didn't even want it. You have known her for what? A month? We," he emphasized, gesturing toward the sister he had left, "have been here by her side her entire life!" T'Challa voice raised to match M'Baku's as the men traded verbal jabs at the other, neither willing to shoulder the blame the other carelessly tossed at their feet.

"Yes, and some help the two of you have been while she was being emotionally abused and mistreated in her own home. This," he scoffed, "this isn't a life! What you and your parents forced upon her isn't a life. And you didn't fight for her to have the life she deserved. From where I am sitting, you never have. If you had, it wouldn't have taken 25 years. If you had, she would not have felt the need to flee out of your window to Hanuman knows where!"

"And what of you hm? Did you ever stop to think about why Asha didn't flee up to the mountains to be with you the first chance she got? Since you know her so well... since you offered her freedom and a real life that we didn't? Because maybe Asha understood what it could cost all of us, maybe she understood there are larger obligations at play. But you don't care about the cost! To us... or to Asha for that matter. You don't care about what is best for her and her family. You just care about her being who you want her to be. You don't love her for her, you love her for her powers. How is that any different than Hasani? Or my father who demanded she be who they wanted?" He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself before adding, "If you knew my sister as well as you think you do, you would know that she would never choose to sacrifice this family for herself." 

"I knew you didn't deserve to be King, time and time again you prove that you are just a boy. A child who has no concept of leadership," M'Baku spat. "Because if you did, you would have been willing to sacrifice it all for her.  It would never have to be her choice! You all had countless opportunities to do something different, to avoid the consequences of being indifferent to hate. When your parents or the Council plucked at the threads holding your sister together, you did nothing. Because you do not care about her, you only care about your family's grip on power, just like your father."  

T'Challa's eyes flashed red as M'Baku's words sank in. A king no longer stood before him, the Black Panther and a very overprotective brother did. His suit instinctively wrapped its protective fibers around his body, launching him into attack mode. The only sounds in the room were sharp breaths and the collective bang of the Dora banishing their spears, ready to defend their King if needed. There was no room for God, Bast or Hanuman as the safe space separating the two vanished completely. Verbal blows were over, physical ones were zooming toward them with the speed of a panther as T'Challa said in a low voice, "Do. Not. Ever. insinuate that I --"

"Alright, enough boys, enough!" Nakia yelled, cutting off her boyfriend and pushing her way between the two men. Her hands pushed against each of their chests to force them apart. She didn't expect to actually move them, and she didn't, but it gave them both a physical signal to retreat to their figurative corners. They could argue all day if they wanted but Nakia knew it would be a worse end to an already terrible day if T'Challa killed one of his council members.

"You are all dismissed," she called out forcefully to the remaining council members, who no one else seemed to realize were still there. They all seemed to be too invested in the drama, feeling that the council meetings had gotten far more interesting now that T'Challa was king. And though Nakia actually did not have the authority to end any meetings, they all scampered, quickly gathering their things to leave. Once the last soul exited, leaving M'Baku and the Royal Family behind, Nakia added, "We all failed her and so we all shoulder the blame for this. Had we not... she would here and not... not lost. Arguing over who failed her the most and who loves her the most won't help us find her or help us get her back. So, let us focus on that for now and then Asha can tell us all how much we failed her in person. Agreed? Good." She answered herself, not waiting for either man to respond before redirecting her attention to Shuri. "Now, Shuri, can you trace the signal from her beads?"

Shuri had been silent those far, watching the two men argue from the window. She wiped the stray tear or two from her eyes as she walked back to her original seat and picked up her tablet. After a couple of seconds, a large-scale 3-D map of Wakanda was projected at their feet. The group moved out of the way to get a better view, looking down to see a thin red line labeled "Princess Asha Udaka" appear and slowly zigzag its way out of the inner dome around the Capitol. The dot traveled a short distance in the wilderness before stopping abruptly above the Land of the Heart-Shaped Herb.

"Her trail ends here," Shuri stated, pointing at the end of the line. 

"So she is there?" M'Baku stated, half as a matter of fact statement and half as a question. "Let us go and get her." 

"I didn't say she was there. I said her signal ends there," Shuri snapped back, understandably still angered at M'Baku's earlier attack as they were directed at both she and T'Challa.

She continued tapping away as Nakia said, "How is that possible? Override her tracker bead and find her that way."

"I am working on it," Shuri responded immediately, clearly agitated. There was silence as Shuri tapped away on her screen, eyes growing bigger. 

"What is it, Shuri?" T'Challa asked.

"She destroyed her beads, either accidentally or on purpose. We won't be able to find her this way."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, if she manually turned off her tracker, I would be able to override it but I can't. And right before it stopped transmitting a location, her health bead sent out a distress signal, then stopped tracking and recording all health data. That bead never turns off, it can't. It records everything to the minute. So, best guess, and my guesses are usually never wrong, she destroyed them." 

"I thought you couldn't destroy vibranium?" M'Baku asked, not truly understanding how the beads or vibranium worked. 

"You can destroy anything if you have something powerful enough. Asha's powers certainly aren't enough to destroy vibranium, you know - reduce it to atoms. But with enough sustained fire, it can melt. And the beads are made of more than vibranium. Once exposed to an open flame for too long, the tech can be rendered useless. The point is, her beads won't help us. She could be fine and not want to be found. But... she could be hurt and be unable to tell anyone. We just don't know, so we have to find her the old-fashioned way." 

"She didn't leave Wakanda, nothing has crossed the exterior border in the last hour," Okoye offered as she checked a log on her beads. 

"So aside from the border, where could she be headed in that direction? Any place of significance to her?" 

"That path is on the road to everywhere significant. The border, Warrior Falls, Jabariland, the Hall of Kings... It also depends on if she is looking for a place to be alone for a few hours or shelter for days. The mountains could give her shelter but who would she go there for besides you? Warrior Falls is her favorite spot but she won't find shelter there." 

"And I doubt she would choose to go to the Hall of Kings," Shuri added. "It houses the Garden of the Heart-Shaped Herb," she added for M'Baku's benefit. "No one has been there for over a month. After Killmonger destroyed it, the priestesses refused to return, saying Bast cursed the land." 

"My son... perhaps we should just let her be," Ramonda offered, approaching the group from her seat off to the side. Everyone's heads turned, almost as if they forgot she was even in the room. Her words coupled with the almost annoyed look on her face caused a cloud of anger to settle over the group once more. 

"What? How could you suggest such a thing, Mama?" Shuri asked in disbelief.  

"Your sister can only bring this family ruin. Why bring her back here to further destroy everything? Whatever she is searching for outside of this palace may be what is best for her." 

"Asha is our sister. She is a member of this family, a leader in this country. The only people who have destroyed everything are you and Baba for creating this mess. We are finding her and we are bringing her home." 

"I am just sugg-" 

"That is the end of this discussion. And you would do well to never make that suggestion in my presence again." His tone almost as lethal and harsh as the one he banished Elder Shani with earlier. T'Challa turned his back to his mother before continuing, "M'Baku and I will take the Talon and clear every inch of Wakanda like a grid. The body scans will identify her tattoo. You all stay here in case she returns."

He did not wait for confirmation or approval from anyone else for a plan, deciding if someone had a better idea then they would have said it already. He motioned for M’Baku to follow him out of the throne room without another word.  

****

The ride on the Talon was virtually silent as the airplane piloted itself and T'Challa intently examined the sand table in the middle of the ship that reflected the passing landscape beneath them. He transitioned for pacing, throwing aggressive glances at the table, to standing hunched over it, staring at the sand disheartened and frustrated. The sand rapidly transformed into the different trees and rivers they passed over and people they passed over, all the dark gray color of the sand. T'Challa warned M'Baku that they would be waiting for purple sand, that it would be her. M'Baku let T'Challa do that while he just stared out of the window at the sea of black as if he could see Asha's body in the darkness. 

"Why do you love her?" 

M'Baku wondered if T'Challa got pleasure out of asking him deep questions out of the blue. "What's not to love?" M'Baku asked, not looking away from the window. At the returning silence, he grinned slyly and glanced back to see a very unsatisfied look on his face. He understood, understood the question and its purpose. If his thoughts were any indication, perhaps T’Challa worried that he was merely infatuated with his sister, not actually in love with her. He knew he did not need to but he did care about convincing T’Challa that that was not the case here. That his love was real and not some childish fantasy or obsession with magic.

"You know I noticed her at your challenge. There I was, down the mountains for the first time in my life, determined to die for that throne. And when I looked at the crowd, she was the first thing I noticed. My eyes drew to her like a moth to a flame. It was fleeting though, I could only focus on her for a second for there was fighting and honorable dying to get on with. And then the first time I saw her... truly saw her, in Jabariland… I mean, Hanuman. I have been with a great deal of women in my life but I had never seen one like her before. I saw it - that sadness you spoke of. But I also saw fire, passion, fierce determination. What do I love about her? I love the way you can see her heart soar at every compliment or kind word. I love the way her eyes, already filled with fire, light up when she discovers something new about herself. I love how she values family despite hers being so fragmented. I love that she is so dedicated to Wakanda, loves Wakanda so deeply despite not receiving that love in return. I love her quiet strength, her endless compassion."

He paused for a few moments, turning around to lean back against the wall of the ship. A hearty laugh escaped his lips as he stared across the ship at nothing. "You know the first time I realized it?" he asked as he walked up to T'Challa, looking down at the sand table. "We uh... we have this small cliff across from the Lodge. From there, you can see the best view of the sunset in all of Wakanda. To most of the tribe it isn't anything special, truth be told. Myself included, having had access to it my entire life. It became mundane and ordinary. But Asha, she likes sunsets so I took her there while she was in Jabariland. And you could see her whole being fill with joy and excitement, like this ordinary, mundane cliff was the best thing she had seen in her life. I don’t know, up until that point, I had tried to keep my feelings at bay. I didn’t deserve her I told myself. But the idea that she could love something so boring and ordinary made me feel like maybe she could love someone who was boring and ordinary. Who did not possess the power she did.” 

The two men fell silent for a moment, T'Challa not knowing what to say. After a few minutes, M'Baku added, "You were not totally wrong earlier. When I was young, I wanted so desperately to be like her. I would pray on my knees until they ached to be blessed with a gift. I thought I had grown out of that. But your sister... I just wanted her to see what I saw, to accept the freedom I could offer, to choose me. Because if she chose me, if she could love me, then maybe I was not as ordinary and boring as I always felt. But I didn't think about the cost to her or you all, what was the cost to mere mortals in the face of her powers? But that... that selfishness isn't her way. All I saw was two people who were wholly unfulfilled. And I was so desperate for her to be mine so I could fill us both… so she could be free and I could be a part of something that was not ordinary that I never stopped to consider that maybe it is time for her to be hers. Time for others to stop forcing their wants on her  and that includes me."

T'Challa simply stared at him, not expecting even half of an answer as detailed, nuanced and passionate as that. “I-I am sorry. For the throne room,” he started to say but M’Baku stopped him. 

“We both said things, things I know I regret and you did not deserve or earn. Let us leave them in the past, yes?” M’Baku asked, extending an olive branch to his king. T’Challa nodded but before he could say anything else, a flash of purple sand caught his eye. 

"I found her!" he called out. 

M'Baku moved quickly to the sand table where purple sand was interrupting the field of gray while T’Challa directed the Talon to turn around and slowly lower to hover above the trees. "She is in front of the Hall of Kings." 

M'Baku touched the purple sand that represented her horizontal body, expecting it to crumble in his hand like sand usually did to but it remained solid. He held it in his hand, silently pleading with Hanuman that she was alive and well.

"We cannot get any closer?” M’Baku asked as T’Challa activated his suit and motioned for him to follow him down the ramp. 

“Out of respect for Bast’s whole place, we do not fly or hover the Talon directly over the Hall of Kings or its immediate surroundings. 

M’Baku nodded then questioned, “Any idea why Asha would come here?"

"My father used to come here and pray. Only the Panther Tribe and those who tend to the Garden are even allowed here. It is sacred ground. Asha has never even been here." 

"And they believe it is cursed now?" M'Baku asked, an eerily feeling falling over him as they moved through the darkness with little light to guide them. But he could not tell if that was because the land was actually haunted or because he was simply overthinking after what Shuri said. 

"That is what the priestesses have told us... that Bast was enraged at the destruction of the Garden. Everytime they come here, they say they are overcome with dark thoughts, visions of Bast. They hear cries and rustlings in the trees," T'Challa answered.

"And you believe them?" M'Baku pushed a low hanging branch out of their way as they approached the clearing she was supposed to be in. "I do not hear anything."

"The priestesses have tended to this garden for most of their lives with Zhuri. It is their whole world. They have no reason to lie," his voice trailed off as the reason for their journey came into view. "Asha!"

T'Challa and M'Baku raced forward when they saw her body in a heap on the forest floor. As they approached, T'Challa quickly inspected the area and noticed the scorched black Earth branching out from beneath her body, her lack of shoes, and the cuts littering her arms and legs. Her face was hidden from view, covered by all her braids. She was knocked out cold. M'Baku reached her first, recognizing that T'Challa should have due to his enhanced speed, but understanding and appreciating the gesture. 

M'Baku knelt down into the soft earth beside her, gently shifting her head so her face was facing up. He was startled at the lack of warmth in her body. Usually the girl felt like a furnace but now? She was as cold as ice. M'Baku felt her coldness as if someone had replaced his own blood with ice. He was so sure, convinced they would find her alive and well, probably  too convinced. He had not prepared himself for any other possibility, refused to even consider it. Now all the other possibilities were vying for his attention, demanding he reckon with the reality that Asha was no goddess at all... she was human, a mere mortal like the rest of them. 

"Check her pulse," T'Challa said, his voice even and cold. He knew from the way M'Baku held her cheek, the way the man seemed paralyzed that all was not right. He had not allowed himself to consider this either, forced the thought out of his mind every time. But staring at her, wishing for a different scenario would not change the current outcome. They needed to know and prolonging it would not ease their pain.

M'Baku nodded, signaling that he heard the question. He couldn't get his mouth or vocal chords to work enough to verbally respond. He took a deep breath, sent a silent prayer to Hanuman before starting to move his hand down to her neck to find a pulse. For a moment, he thought back to their time in the mountains, that sunset on that cliff. It truly was a perfect moment, a perfect stolen moment that ended too quickly. Asha seemed to believe that was all they were, all they would get: a selfishly seized stolen moment that was not actually in the cards for either of them. But M’Baku refused to believe that as he prayed to Hanuman. He prayed that life, no matter how strong or feeble, would still pump through her veins when his fingers pressed into her neck. Because he knew she deserved more… and he knew that they deserved a lifetime of moments designed especially for them and freely given to them to fulfill. 

****

Asha groaned as she opened her eyes, shifting a bit as she registered the hard forest ground beneath her and the pain radiating through her body. One look at the sky above her caused her to sit up quickly, completely ignoring the immediate frustration and pain born from crashing to the ground. She quickly noticed several things that were not as they should have been. It was pitch black outside when she left the palace but now? The sky was ablaze with deep hues of purple and blue, lights that moved across the sky like a living organism. If she were not so perplexed, she would have been content simply lying there to admire its beauty. 

She didn't even really understand how she got here - she crashed in the forest, that much she remembered. But now? She was surrounded by tall swaying grass like that of the Alkama Fields, not the towering thick trees and greenery that surrounds the Hall of Kings. She stood up quickly, dusting the dirt off her purple dress and turned from side to side, trying to notice any landmarks or buildings that would help her discern where she was now.

She walked a few paces ahead of her before an eerie feeling settled over her causing her to stop in her tracks. There was nothing out of the ordinary ahead of her and yet, the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. She turned around slowly, the sight behind her rendered her speechless. And thank Bast it did or else she would have let out a blood-curdling scream and she doubted theblack panthers staring at her from this tree would have appreciated that. She counted 10 or so of them as her eyes swept across the tree frantically. Her legs turned into jelly as examining stares passed between her and the majestic but deadly creatures. They seemed to regard her with interest, while Asha was too busy looking from the tree to the very short span of grass that separated them.

That is an easy leap for any one of them.

Asha's mind started racing, trying to access years of knowledge about Panthers and quickly sift through it all for something that could help her. As if her knowledge was a roaring rapid, the facts flew past her at an unnatural speed, uselessly until one old legend jumped out at her. Many believed that the Panther Tribe had a deeper connection with all panthers, those on the island and those in the wild, and so no panther would ever harm them. However, now seemed like a poor time to test that theory in Asha's opinion.

She pushed down with her hands, deciding that flying was far safer than walking and would help her find her way home. However, much to her shock, nothing happened. She tried again, facing scrunching up in intense frustration and concentration as she tried to force fire out of her extremities to gain flight. But she couldn't even get sparks... she was completely and utterly powerless. She groaned softly in frustration, not understanding how she was rendered powerless - something she had hoped and prayed for - the one time she actually needed them.

As she stood there examining her hands, her legs started to feel warm. She ignored it initially, hoping it was her powers finally starting up again. That was until the unmistakable smell of smoke reached her nose. She looked behind her and realized the grass around her was slowly catching on fire.

"Oh no," she said quietly, trying to wave the flames away, using all the tricks she knew to absorb fire but nothing worked. She backed away from it, edging closer to the tree of panthers who seemed completely unperturbed by the fire coming closer to them. Every time she tried to channel her powers and absorb it, it grew larger and spread faster. Soon, she was surrounded. Asha covered her mouth with her arm, trying to avoid breathing in the smoke that was now obstructing her vision. Deja-vu poked through the haze of panic settling over her - she had been here before.

She lifted a hand to the flames, praying that she, at least, still had her ability to touch fire and be unharmed. But that proved to be wishful thinking as well. She cried out in pain as the fire burned her skin and caused the palm of her hand to turn red and immediately blister.

She clutched her burning hand to her chest, tears flowed freely at the throbbing pain radiating from it. She had never known the pain fire caused and now she wished she still didn't. She looked around wildly, trying to find an escape from the blazing inferno that seemed intent on killing her. With no other plan or recourse available to her, Asha simply yelled out "Bast! Help me!" Who else was there to seek help from at this point? There was no living soul anywhere near her, she was sure of that.

She was just about to close her eyes, resigned to dying alone in this inferno far from home, when a glowing light caught her eye. She looked up and the smoke seemed to clear just enough for her to see a panther approaching her through the flames. If Asha hadn't been so awestruck, she would have collapsed with fear. This was no ordinary panther, she realized. Its skin appeared to be made of diamonds, glistening and shining in the light of the flames, and was as tall as Asha herself. It walked through the flames as if they were nothing more than colorful air that had no effect whatsoever. When it was close enough, Asha was able to look in its eyes. They were a rich purple, almost like someone hand-picked the finest jewels and plucked them in its eyes. It reminded her of something, something distinct that she couldn't quite put her finger on with the haze of panic around her. 

Bast. 

She didn't know how she knew but she knew. It couldn't be anyone else. 

She and the panther stared at each other for, what Asha considered to be, an uncomfortable amount of time. Asha realized how often she blinked as she stared into its jeweled eyes, examining the intensity in which this animal tilted its head from side to side to study her. 

"If you are Bast, give me a sign? Or you know... be quick about it if you are going to kill me?" She whispered, laughing uncomfortably to herself. She wondered if she was losing her mind, here in this unknown place trying to escape fire by talking to an animal.

The fire. Asha was so taken by this panther in front of her that she had forgotten about the flames so quickly, flames that she had been terrified of only moments prior. She looked around wildly, realizing that the smoke was no longer affecting her. She could breathe easy again, it felt like nothing different than standing in a field of flowers. And almost as beautiful, she thought to herself as she watched the flames rage around her for a second, relieved now that she knew it couldn’t hurt her. She knelt down and bowed her head, understanding who was causing this, who was in front of her.

"Open your eyes, Asha."

Asha lifted her head at the sound of a voice to find a woman where the panther once stood. Asha looked around and found untouched, seemingly perfect grass, replacing the burning field that was there before. She also realized that her hand was no longer red and pulsing with pain. All the evidence of the last five minutes seemed to vanish, like it never happened. 

"Y-You are Bast?" Asha asked, her voice echoed the disbelief in her head. The answer was obvious, other-worldly radiated off the woman before her. She certainly was not human. Her deep chocolate skin glowed like the sun, adored from head to toe in gold robes. Nestled on top of her long, flowing black locs was a simple golden crown with purple jewels settled around it. The rest of the world fell away as Asha stared at her, captivated and sure that she could look at her for the rest of her days and it would never be enough.

"You called for me, did you not?"

Asha blinked a few times, her desperate calls for Bast almost forgotten. It felt like ages ago now despite only being minutes. But she hadn't actually expected the goddess to show up; after all she called on Bast for decades and she never came to her aid those times. "Y-yes, yes I did. Thank you f-for saving me. I suppose I didn't think you would show up," Asha admitted with an apologetic tone. There was an awkward pause as Bast simply stared at her across the field, clearly waiting for Asha to speak. "I am in the Ancestral Plane, yes? I died after my crash?" Her tone was surprisingly calm and casual, as if she was confirming the weather and not her livelihood. 

She laughed lightly, "Yes and no, you are in the Ancestral plane but no, you are not dead. You came close, that is certain. That flight was a dangerous venture even for experienced flyers. But worry not, you are very much still among the living." 

"Oh." Asha stopped her silent walking just behind Bast, causing the Goddess to instinctively stop as well and turn to her. Asha looked to her left and saw yet another set of panthers leering at her from a tree beside her, each woman standing on either side of its trunk, staring at the other. Asha's eyes flinted from Bast to one panther in particular. Most stared at her with interest for a moment before going back to sleep or turning their attention elsewhere. But not this one, its deep brown eyes bored into Asha's soul so intensely that even when she turned away, it felt like a laser on her profile. 

"You almost sound disappointed by that fact." Bast responded, interrupting her staring match with the panther. Asha turned her attention back to Bast, an amused look on her face. 

"Oh no, I mean I am happy to be alive. I guess I am just confused. Why am I here then?" 

"Well, I wanted to speak with you. I have been watching you... waiting for the opportunity to approach you. The moment finally presented itself. You have visited us before."

"Yes, in my dreams. I did not know what it was though, but I thought it was just some place I made up. And I never make it past the flames. Wait - what do you mean you have been watching me?"

"I have been watching you as I do with all I have deemed worthy of a gift, waiting for them to reach out to me. I meet with all the gifted at some point in their lives. When they have reached a point in their self discovery, I find that most need to be pushed forward, as you do now. Some reach that point earlier than others though. The waiting can be difficult, as it was with you but you finally got there."

The breeze passed by the two women as Asha stared at her. She opened and closed her mouth, 15 years worth of questions, anger, and frustration rising to the surface but Asha wasn't able to put any of it into words. 

She settled on saying, "'The gifted?' That sounds like the Jabari?" It didn't feel sufficient but she was still gathering her thoughts. 

"Yes, on this Hanuman and I agree. He calls them the Chosen, I call them gifts but they are all the same. All chosen... all gifts to Wakanda, especially now since your brother has reunited all the tribes. It just seems, unfortunately, that my people have yet to catch on as the Jabari did. But I am hoping the Jabari can lead them on that path of understanding. Your father was a particularly tough subject, clearly my plan to humble him with a gifted child did little to help him see the light. I am always right, people believe. But even once a century or two, I get it wrong." 

"Doesn't sound like much of a gift," Asha muttered to herself, upon processing the idea that her life was nothing more than a pawn in Bast's master plan. Asha suddenly felt angry, anger that felt like it appeared out of nowhere all of a sudden. But really, it had been building, boiling below the surface for 15 years.

"What was that child?" The tone of Bast's voice signaled that she was not asking because she had not heard. She just wanted Asha to say it out loud. 

Asha drew herself to full height, standing tall before her goddess, anger still steadily rising. "I said it doesn't sound like much of a gift... to have your existence used as a pawn in someone else's life. I endured years of pain and abuse for what? My father left this world hating mutants just as much as he did before he had me. You are Bast… all mighty and all powerful and you couldn't humble him a different way? Dangling my life in the balance was the only way? Is that what you want me to believe?" 

"I leave my people to make their own choices. I give the signs, I give the lessons, sometimes I give explicit instructions... it is your choice to follow them. Your father chose many times not to follow, did not recognize the signs or actively chose to ignore them. I realized quickly that there was little I could do for a man like that." 

That isn't good enough, Asha thought angrily to herself. But she didn't respond, she just turned her head away from Bast, frustration clear and evident. She turned to find that damned panther still staring at her, and somehow it made her even more angry so she looked up at the sky, hoping its beauty would calm her. But it didn't. 

"Your life was never in the balance. You grew up strong and powerful, as I intended," Bast added, breaking the silence between them. "I was always here for you but I thought you had forgotten me... you stopped praying."

And with that simple phrase, Asha snapped. She scoffed loudly as her anger boiled over, "'I stopped praying??' I prayed to you every day for years. I begged and begged, pleaded and cried for you to take this gift back. I begged to be normal. Were those prayers not loud enough? Were the sobs and agony of one of your gifts not loud enough to earn an audience?" 

"And you weren't there! I stopped praying because you weren't answering, or giving any indication that you heard me at all! Is this what you intended? I mean, look at me! Look at my life!" Asha yelled exasperated as she paced by the tree, ranting angrily. "My mother hates me, my father went to his grave hating me, the only real family I have are T'Challa and Shuri, I am not connected to my home or country in any real way, and I have spent my whole life lying and hiding."

Asha roughly wiped the tears before adding, "A-and to top it off, I have a man back there who I am madly in love with that I don't deserve," a small sob escaped her lips. "That I can't be with because of things I didn't ask for. Because of you! Because of this life you forced upon me… This life that you call a gift but has been nothing but a curse for the last 15 years. A-a-and you call me here and what? Expect me to thank you for it? You call me here after 15 years of misery, 15 years of watching my life fall apart and you say it is what you intended?? This is NOT a gift!" She shouted, her voice startling a few panthers in the trees. 

Asha's chest heaved slightly as she tried to calm herself after unloading years of pent-up anger onto Bast. She couldn't help but blame Bast for every bad thing in her life right now, after all she just told her that she orchestrated it all. All that pain, all that tragedy she flew away from, she laid it at Bast's feet. She didn't know why or what she expected in return. 

"I do not expect you to not be angry with me, child. Your anger is fair. But where you see a life of darkness, I see one overflowing with potential.” Bast’s eyes were filled with understanding, despite just being yelled at. “But you are tired. And I understand that too." 

Asha nodded, she was tired. That was how she felt, simply exhausted. Life... her life was too much work right now. She looked around, the soft swaying trees, the serene violet sky, the peace. There was such peace here, there were no powers here. Asha craved for it. 

"You could just... you could just stay here," Asha whispered to herself.

"This place is not for you. You have many years ahead," Bast answered, voice matter-of-fact and clear.  

"Why not?" Asha asked, now considering the notion seriously.  "Y-You get to choose right?? That's what we are taught, what all the stories say? Well, then choose to let me stay!" 

"No." Bast answered again. "You have a job to do. You cannot do it here." 

"Fine, send me back, but take my powers. I do not want them." Asha began to bargain. In her mind, Bast owed her something, owed her what she asked. If she couldn't stay here, she could bring one aspect of this peace back with her. She could finally get Bast to do the one thing she had begged her to do her whole life. She can set her free. 

"No, you were chosen. Wakanda needs you, as you are today." 

"You have my brother! He is the protector of Wakanda. Whatever job you need to do, he can do it!" 

"Your brother is not enough. For centuries, the Black Panther has been enough. But your father made terrible mistakes, mistakes that have altered the future of Wakanda. And your brother, rightfully, has opened Wakanda's borders. With it, new dangers unlike any we have ever seen will come. He needs you. Wakanda needs you." 

"No... no!" Asha cried out in frustration, falling to her knees before her goddess. She hunched forward as her hands grasped the ground in front of her, her nails digging into the soil. She wondered if Bast thought this was amusing, how quickly her anger turned to desperation. "I cannot do this. I asked you for years and you ignored me. Listen to me now, please. I am begging you. I d-don't want this anymore. P-please." Asha's voice broke as she sobbed on the ground before Bast. She imagined she looked as pitiful as she sounded. 

"Stand up, Asha Udaka," Bast commanded from above her. "You are a gift. You were made from me, my children do not kneel or grovel at my feet." 

Asha steadied her breathing, stopped her silent sobbing as best she could, before standing before Bast once more. "Do you know why you have never made it past the flames before? Because you are so terrified of who you are. Instead of accepting them, accepting the fire and all that comes with it as part of you, you shun it, you run from it, you hide from it. And you are right, with a life like that, you will never be happy. You will always be afraid, you will always be running, you will always be living with the constant fear of being burned. You will always be tired."

Bast took a step toward her before continuing, "Or... you could make the choice to do something different. The life your father promised you is not the life you must have. Perhaps the role you believed you were going to have in Wakanda is not the role you are destined for. It will be hard, I will not tell you otherwise. Going back is hard. There are very few on Earth whose lives aren't exhausting, that is the burden... the sacrifice paid for breath pumping through your veins. But it will be worth it, it is always worth it." 

Asha looked around, everywhere but at the woman in front of her, unsure of what to say. Was it that easy? Trusting her, having faith in her after feeling forsaken and forgotten for so long? 

Bast's hand cupped Asha's cheek gently, wiping away the tears that still streamed silently down her face. "You could stay here. Truthfully, it is not my choice, it is yours. I will not stop you... Your brother had to make the same difficult choice not too long ago. He is destined to be the best of them, the man to lead my people to new heights. He returned home because there was work to be done. I believe he is better for it. I believe you will be better for it as well."

"How? What can I offer Wakanda? Or anyone like this?” she gestured to herself, imaging what her emotionally-broken form looked like to Bast. “Half of the country hates me, half of my family hates me. My brother had a role - King. I have nothing but powers that most of the country would rather me not use."

"That is far from true, my child. You have everything, everything you need already. You are rare... destined to be the best of them, I know this. And the path to that power hasn't been easy. You can hate me for it but this was the path you needed, this is what Wakanda needs. You have the power no other gift has had, power to do things the normal hand would not dare dream of - the power to undo atrocities and build lasting bridges all across Wakanda. You are rare... destined to be the best of them. I know this because I willed it. You just have to learn to love it, for all its beauty and terror. And then use it to save my people, save Wakanda's future. And then, you may find that giving and receiving love from others, and knowing you deserve it, is far simpler than before." 

Bast squeezed her hands tightly. Asha didn't know what future she could save, what she could do for Wakanda. But as she stared around at the panthers and the Ancestral Plane, she knew one thing for certain - she couldn't stay here.

A small whimper next to her caught her attention. The black panther in the tree next to them was no longer just staring at Asha, it was sitting up as if it sensed her soul was about to leave. It almost looked like the idea pained it. As Asha stared at it, she realized that something about it seemed oddly familiar. She knew this didn't make sense, she had never seen a real panther in her life to remember one. But she could not help but think this one seemed to know her. She suddenly remembered what her brother told her after his visit here. He was there. 

I wonder... she started to think, taking a step toward the tree, when Bast squeezed her hand again, stopping her movements. "It is time to go now, Asha. I fear we are sending you home with more questions than answers. But you will see me again when you have done what you are destined to do. Then you will get those new answers you seek, understand?" 

Asha gave the panther one last look of longing, knowing whose soul inhabited it, wanting nothing more than the same opportunity to talk to him as she just had with Bast. But she knew this was all in Bast's plan so she answered, "Yes," before turning away from the panther for the last time. 

Bast opened her arms wide and Asha tentatively walked into them, immediately leaning into the hug as she felt warmth and safety she hadn't felt in ages rushing through her. Bast smiled and whispered, "You know... I must hand it to myself. The Golden Trio... you all are the rarest flowers in my garden. Brilliant, capable and meant to help us in such different ways. You are the three pillars on which the progress of Wakanda will stand upon. In the absence of one, she would fall. It is a heavy burden I ask of you and cruel that I should ask it without offering any guidance. But like all my gifts, you must walk it alone. Right the wrongs, protect our future. And then we will speak again. Goodbye until then Princess Asha."

*****

Asha's eyes fluttered open, blinking profusely to adjust to the dim light surrounding her. Her head fell to the side as she laid there, recognizing the space as her bedroom in the palace. . She shifted beneath her deep red duvet cover, an audible groan escaping from the pain radiating through her body. Asha couldn't think of a time her body felt such extreme pain like this, feeling like she was just flung and subsequently trampled by a border tribe rhino. But she knew she had little space to complain. The fact that she was alive was a gift from Bast, that fall should have ended her life. 

Bast... her meeting with the Panther Goddess was fresh in her mind. It felt more like a dream, except she remembered it so clearly, so vividly. Usually dreams disappeared from her memory within seconds of waking up. But this seemed to be burned into her brain, like Bast wouldn't let her forget a second of it.

She started to sit up, deciding to find her family and apologize for her impromptu escape when a soft but firm hand stopped her movements. "Lay back down, Asha. You need to rest." 

Her heart leaped into her throat as she heard his voice. She looked up and saw him sitting on the edge of her bed. She didn't understand how she missed him, he seemed too big for her space. But she supposed she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts. "M'Baku?" 

A small but distinct smile fell on his face as he heard the relief in her voice, there was no hiding it. He squeezed her hand, the pair simply staring at each other as he helped her ease back onto the pillows beneath her back. She stared at him, happy but extremely confused. 

"W-what are you doing here?" 

His hands left her shoulders, rubbing up and down her arms in a comforting fashion. She appreciated the warmth of his hands, helping her realize how cold she was. She felt like her body would never be warm again. 

"I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you were alright. Um... Let me get you some water yes? Stay here." Asha took in his nervousness, the anxiety in his voice. He was clearly trying to find busy work, something to do that was not simply staring at her or having the difficult conversation looming over him like a dark cloud. She watched him grab the water pitcher in the sitting area of her quarters. She stared around her, the profound desire to get up coursing through her. She just wanted to sit on the couch and talk to him, not lay in her bed like a patient. She swung her legs out of bed, ignoring the exhaustion and pain it caused to do such a little task. However, she would soon learn to regret that decision as she pushed off the bed to stand. The moment her legs took on her full weight, they turned to jelly. She crumbled back to the ground, with a soft thud. 

"Asha!" He ran back over to her, forgetting her water. "What do you need?" 

Asha tried to stabilize her breathing to talk, but nothing would come out. She had been so preoccupied, so trapped in her own thoughts that this was the first moment she actually registered how exhausted she felt. As if she could visualize it in her mind, she could see her internal tank empty, something that had never happened in her life. Panic settled as her eyes moved wildly around her room, trying to understand what she needed in this unforeseeable scenario. Her eyes fell on the raging fire in her sitting area. Was it that easy? she asked herself as she stared at the flames dancing in the fireplace. Her intense staring and look of longing did not go unnoticed by her companion. He picked her up bridal style, the young princess too tired to even be excited by being in his arms, and sat her as close as humanly possible to the fire without sticking her body in it. She hesitated for a moment, knowing it was crazy. But the flames seemed to call out for her, beg for her, growing taller and wilder as she watched them. She reached her hand out into the fire, the warmth immediately washing over her like someone basking in sunlight. She held her hand there, eyes closed, as her body soaked up all the fire in the hearth. Warmth spread through her arm and into every area of her body until she could feel it in every finger and toe, finally feeling full again. The price of her resurgence was the loss of fire in her room but she didn't feel as though she needed it now. She was not at 100%... she knew it would take some time to get back where she was. But this felt good.

"Better?" M'Baku asked softly from behind her, a comforting hand still on her back. He figured it worked, instead of deathly cold, he could feel the warmth circulating beneath her skin now. It wasn't as powerful as once before but it was there. 

"Much. Not 100% but close. T-thank you." 

He picked her back up and carried her back to bed. Once she was settled, he sat down on the side of the bed next to her. 

"You gave us quite a scare. Flying away like that. On your third try? You could have died."

"Flying is the only way to escape a brother with super speed. Before I knew it, I was in the middle of nowhere and couldn't hold myself up any longer. I didn't mean to scare anyone.” 

“You could have died, Asha,” he lectured. His words fell on her ears like a parent scolding a child instead of like a… she still didn’t know what they were. 

“No one would have cared,” she mumbled under her breath. She couldn’t even stop herself from letting it slip but as soon as it did, she wished she had. The hurt on his face was clear. 

"The King, Shuri, Nakia and the Dora care about you deeply Asha."

"Are they the only ones?" She asked softly. 

M'Baku bowed his head, avoiding her expectant stare as he thought of a response. He cared about her, deeply so. But was now the time to have this conversation? After she almost died? He supposed it was foolish to back down now. This was what he wanted this whole time, to express his feelings. But now that it was here? He wished he had a few more days to get his thoughts together. 

"No, not just them. There are some that care about you more than you know, more than you will let them show you." 

It was Asha's turn to avoid his stare, his expectant look. She was in love with him, there was no secret about that. But 12 hours ago, there were so many barriers in their way. Now those barriers turned to wreckage and recycled into new barriers. They were different, but how different if she still felt unable to commit to him and this? 

"The woman you want... she is not who I am always M'Baku. If this day hasn't shown you. You watched her attack me a-a-and I just sat there. I surrendered so easily like a c-coward. I- is that the woman you want? Truly?" 

"Asha, stop. You are that woman, I see her every time I look at you. What other woman could have survived what you survived tonight? You are strong, you are deserving. You just have to believe it."

She nodded softly, looking out the window of her bedroom, confused and struggling. Her mind like she was standing in the Great Mound, watching hundreds of trains whiz by her and she could not grab hold of any of them. So many thoughts, so many tracks moving in different directions. Here she was again, standing at the crossroads of what she wanted to have, what reality dictated she must have, and what the world deemed her worthy of having. There was not a fiber of her being that didn't want M'Baku, but did she truly feel she deserved him? Bast told her she did… everyone told her she did… but did any other opinions matter if she still felt unworthy?

And this being the first moment, she really considered the possibility of being with him and its implications, would the Jabari even accept her? Many of them did not want to rejoin Wakanda in the first place? How would they feel if their chief married a lowlander? How would the Wakandans feel if their princess married a Jabari? That was a bridge the two tribes hadn’t been crossed once in history. 

Beyond that, it was difficult to focus on sorting out her feelings for M'Baku when she knew her tribe was at risk, all because of her. She was surrounded by the very real reality that Elder Shani was trying to tear their house down. Her engagement was off, of that she was sure. Why would she uphold the end of the bargain when Shani figuratively set their deal on fire? But did that mean she was relieved of her obligation? Does that mean after giving her the ammunition to tear their world apart, Asha could just escape to Jabariland and live a different life? She was still the princess, after all. Her obligations to marry were gone but her obligations to her family, to the throne, to her people were very much present. 

And then there was Bast. Apparently, there was work to be done. Could that work be done from Jabariland? Or did she have to stay here? What future did she have to protect? How does one even begin to learn to love themselves or powers they have been conditioned to hate? She wished she had more time to ask Bast questions as a million tumbled through her mind right now. Now, she just felt like she wasted the short audience Bast gave her ranting like a child. The goddess wasn't wrong - it was cruel to ask her to do whatever job she needed doing with no guidance, no direction. She wasn't equipped for this... any of it. 

"Asha." M'Baku saw it clearly in her face, she was drowning, unsure of what to do, her confusion and concern etched into her face. She looked older, more tired and weary than he had ever seen her. Like in one day, she lived a thousand lives. He knew that look, saw it on his own face a million times as chief. He knew what it looked like to carry the weight of the world and he also knew how grateful he was to the people in his life who forced him to lay that weight down, who gave him a break for a moment. He just wanted to help her do the same. "How about we do this? We deal with the big questions tomorrow. And tonight, we just be. No big questions, no overthinking,” he gently tapped her head, causing her face to scrunch up and the first genuine smile he had seen all night grace her face. “No decisions, no complications. We just rest." 

Asha's heart immediately felt lighter with his permission not to think for a moment, his permission to lay her baggage down and rest her arms for a while. It would do her a world of good, she knew that. She nodded, smiling at him. "Let's just be. Sounds like a plan to me." 

M'Baku leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, Asha's body heating up at his touch. He looked at her for a moment before getting up from the bed, "I will take the couc-"

A small hand grabbed his, tugging him back. Her dark brown eyes looked up with him, unspoken pleads clear and on the tip of her tongue. "Stay. I want you to stay." 

Her meaning was clear, but M'Baku searched her face for confirmation. There were no reservations, no doubts. He rounded to the other side of the bed and slid in. She immediately nestled into his side, attracted to him like a magnet. 

"I would care," he whispered as she laid on his bare chest, her small frame dwarfed by his. He didn't hear a response but soon, he felt the unmistakable wetness of tears and knew she heard him. 

"T-thank you," she whispered back, throat tight as she tried to keep her emotions in. He kissed the top of her head before closing his eyes, another eventful day behind them and the start of something beautiful ahead.

****

Tags:  @destinio1 @muse-of-mbaku @missmohnique @jellybean531 @afrolatinpami @leahnicole1219 @archivistofwakanda

[fan-clan-fun]

The (Revised) Warrior Code

I’m working on a Warriors rewrite and I’ve spent most of the day working on this new and (hopefully) improved Code! There is one more unofficial rule that I didn’t write down and consequently forgot, so I may send that one in later.

Oh lovely! Let’s check it out!

THE CODE

Defend your Clan, even with your life. You may have friends with cats from other Clans, but your loyalty must remain to your Clan, for someday you may meet them in battle. Taking a mate from another Clan is strictly forbidden.

Do not hunt or trespass on another Clan’s territory. If one must reach Highstones, they may cross WindClan territory unchallenged, but may not hunt. If a message must be carried across borders, the messenger is granted safety.

Queens, kits and elders eat before apprentices and warriors. Apprentices must perform their daily duties before eating unless given explicit permission. The sick and injured eat alongside the queens, kits and elders.

Prey is killed only to be eaten. Give thanks to the Place of Many Stars for it’s life

A kit must be at least six moons old to become an apprentice. A leader may delay an apprenticeship, but cannot perform the ceremony earlier.

Newly appointed warriors must hold a silent vigil. They may not speak or move until the following sunrise, unless the Clan is in danger.

A warrior must have been a successful mentor to become deputy.

The deputy becomes leader when the current leader dies or is exiled.

After the death, retirement, exile or promotion of the deputy, a new one must be named before moonhigh.

A Gathering is held during the full moon. A truce is kept for the night, and there will be no fighting amongst the Clans at this time.

Borders must be checked and marked daily. All trespassers will be challenged, but violence will only be used if necessary.

No cat can neglect or harm a kit, no matter it’s origins.

A leader’s word is law, and must be respected at all times. If the word of the leader is endangering Clan members unnecessarily, the medicine cat may confer with the elders and override this authority.

A warrior should not kill unless it is in self-defense. An unnecessary death will be paid back to the Clan who lost a cat.

Warriors must reject the life of a kittypet.

Each Clan has the right to be proud and independent, but in times of trouble they must forget their boundaries and fight side by side to protect the four. Each Clan must help the others so that no Clan will fall.

Alright, so pretty standard, basically a version of the code with some extra clarifying statements that are pretty needed given the chaos in the books. Looks good!

PUNISHMENTS & EXPLANATIONS

1. Punishments vary due to the severity of the crime, and the judgement of the leader. Defending a friend from another Clan can result in mild punishment, or in extreme cases, exile. Forbidden relationships can result in Gathering privileges revoked, along with border patrol privileges. If kits result from this couple, the kits will stay with the mother. If the mother dies, then the kits will be sent to their father’s Clan. If the leader of the mother’s Clan does not want the kits, they will be sent to the father’s Clan. One Clan must always accept the kits.

This is a good thing to have rules about, although if a clan didnt accept a litter of kits they would be crazy to give up extra clan blooded members. Still important to have in mind though. 

2. By hunting on another’s territory, one makes themselves susceptible to a scolding from the leader, and put on apprentice duties. They also must return the prey that was caught, or catch another piece of similar prey to return to the opposing Clan.

Oh I like this, basically hunting on someone else’s territory is just free hunting for the other clan, a good way to deter ambitious warriors or apprentices from doing something stupid.If one eats without completing their duties or getting permission, they will receive a scolding from their mentor/leader, and will be assigned apprentice chores.

3. If one eats without completing their duties or getting permission, they will receive a scolding from their mentor/leader, and will be assigned apprentice chores.

4. If proper thanks is not given to the ancestors, one will receive a scolding from their leader, and will be assigned apprentice chores.

5. It is the duty of the medicine cats and elders to remind their leader of this rule, and if the leader insists upon performing the ceremony, a council of elders, led by the medicine cat, will be held.

6. If a new warrior is caught speaking for unnecessary reasons, they will be reassigned apprentice chores and be supervised by an older warrior on patrols.

Lots of little rules, but good ones, its mostly about the respect.

7. If a leader appoints a deputy who has not successfully mentored an apprentice, the leader must provide a good reason for electing to appoint them, and the Clan must hold a vote after hearing this evidence.

8. If the deputy is challenged, the challenger can provide evidence on why the deputy is not fit, and the deputy can also argue their case. A vote will be held, directed by the medicine cat.

I appreciate the involvement of Medicine cats more as a backup/enforcer of the laws, I imagine they and the elders would also be counselors and more aware of the laws as well.

9. No punishment occurs if a new deputy is not named, but it is extremely taboo to not appoint one on time. The new deputy may be treated with some suspicion.

Superstition, especially in a heavily religious and spiritual society, is a powerful motivator, it’s wise to take it into account.

10. If a Clan attacks another Clan during a Gathering, the other three Clans can decide what punishment befalls the attacker. It can include being banned from Gatherings, or disallowed access to certain neutral grounds.

Yes, its wise to include the rest of the clans in these sort of decision making. Clans should band together to ensure one of them isnt going beyond the constraints of the rules and the code. If clans would police each other, we wouldnt get the chance for one to simply drive an entire clan out. Its a system of checks and balances.

11. If it can be proved that a border has not been marked recently enough, or violence is used unnecessarily, the Clan leaders can decide an appropriate punishment, such as assigning apprentice duties and hunting/caring for injured cats.

12. If a kit is neglected or comes to harm for any reason, offenders can receive a variety of punishments. If a kit was harmed with malicious intentions, the offender can be exiled. If a kit is neglected due to a bias, the offender will be scolded and punished with chores or apprentice assignments, or be tasked with caring for the kit.

This is a good way to ensure that the clan doesnt end up with abusive parents, or just general abuse. The future of the clan is in its kits, they should be cared for and protected at all costs.

13. A leader who endangers their Clan for unnecessary reasons can be exiled, or reprimanded by their medicine cat and elders. Medicine cats are responsible for determining if the endangerment is unnecessary.

Again, good checks and balances, the leader shouldnt be the absolute authority, even if they are the primary authority.

14. A warrior who kills another warrior for an unnecessary reason must repay the Clan who lost a warrior by hunting for the family or providing services for the other Clan.

15. A warrior who is found fraternizing with kittypets will be reprimanded by their mentor, leader, elders and/or medicine cat, and assigned apprentice duties and chores. If the behavior continues, and the offender sees no harm in what they’re doing, the offender may be sent to live with the kittypets.

Its a fair punishment. If they like the kittypets so much, maybe thats the life for them. Decisions have consequences.

16. If a Clan refuses to assist with a threat deemed necessary for four-Clan intervention by the medicine cats and elders, the other three Clan will decide a punishment for the offending Clan. Punishments can include being banned from Gatherings, or disallowed access to certain neutral grounds.

Already expanded on this above, but its a really good addition to expected rules.

  OTHER RULES

Medicine cats are permitted to have a mate and kits if another medicine cat is trained and ready to assist with all duties.

All patients must be treated equally, regardless of relation to the medicine cats.

Medicine cat apprentices are chosen by a sign from the Place of Many Stars. Every cat is eligible, even if they’re training as a warrior apprentice or are currently a warrior.

Medicine cats do not need permission from a leader to heal a cat. This is up to their own discretion.

All cats must learn basic medicinal practices in case an emergency comes up and a medicine cat is not present.

Kits must stay in camp until apprenticeship, and are not allowed to hunt. Parents may take their kits on short walks through the territory provided the leader and medicine cats approve it, and a warrior accompanies them.

The safety of the Clan as a whole is more important than the safety of one cat. However, one cat should not be selected as a sacrifice under any means.

Clans must not unite together to drive out another Clan.

Clans must not force another Clan to share territory.

Cats cannot eat before going to the Moonstone/Moonpool to speak with StarClan.

Any cat to harm a medicine cat, in battle or in peace, will be punished severely. It is punishable by exile or death. If the medicine cat has proven to be malicious, a cat can take them down provided they have evidence of malicious intent.

The leader should be the last cat to eat from the fresh-kill pile in times of a prey shortage.

If a couple wishes to have kits which they cannot produce together, they are permitted to find a loner or rogue, or even a willing Clanmate, to sire or carry the kits for them. The kits will not be taught to consider this cat as their parent unless the mates and sire/dam agree to it.

Cats must wait until they are a fully trained warrior to take on a mate. This is the rule for all parties involved. Any fully grown cat caught in a relationship with or romancing an apprentice or younger will be severely punished, and possibly exiled.

If one of the rules of the Warrior Code do not consider an angle that is currently providing an issue, medicine cats and leaders may discuss to find a good outcome. However, acknowledgement of this outcome must occur at the next Gathering, so that other Clans can receive guidance if they face a similar issue.

Okay so I realized halfway through the second list that the numbers were messed up, so Ill just do comments for the third section down here. 

I like having a section of rules or even a code which pertains to medicine cats. In my own clans they do have their own code, which includes aspects of like the Hippocratic oath and such, but these rules outline most of the things that are smart to touch on. 

I really like that all cats have basic first aid knowledge! In the past I’ve thought that it would be a good precursor to apprenticeship, for older kits to have something to engage them while in camp and waiting for their apprenticeships, it would also help medicine cats to learn which of the younger cats might have an aptitude for medicine at a younger age. 

These are all really good additions that I feel like would cut down on so much of the drama that happens in canon, but make sense to keep a steady peace in and between the clans. 

[hiriajuu-suffering]

People Suck

If there’s anything I’ve learned so far is never put your faith or happiness in someone else, no matter how or what that looks like.

Never put your faith in your spouse. They’re fallible and human, they commit to you because you’re convenient, not because they value you for what you are. Every single person can destroy what they claim to love most in the world when they have to respond to enough pressure. I have seen instances where two people would willingly give everything for each other, but no one would ever think I’m worth that kind of commitment. Marriage in our society has been a hollow vow historically entrenched in us by institutionalized religion, now that a human’s ability to communicate reaches beyond moral conveniences in the digital age, people are seeing past that narrative. For better or for worse, I did that. Through sickness and health, I did that. For rich or poor, I did that. To love and cherish, I never stopped doing that. With the instructions set forth by the Sunnah, I did that when she never knew what that meant. In honesty and sincerity, I could never break on that front. I guess that’s why I started thinking polyamory had more truth in it, it’s been difficult for me to believe anyone can earnestly swear to unyielding loyalty, regardless of love’s condition, since I became an adult and I let myself believe otherwise these past years.

Never put faith in your parent or child. Both a parent and child’s understanding of the world are limited to their times. When they clash, it creates immovable conflicts which ripple beyond the scope of the family. A parent putting everything on their child to fulfill their desires imparts all their prior prejudices and hardships onto their child, and the child’s free will is destroyed in that monocle of unhealthy parenting. A child valuing their relationship with their parent stifles them from developing genuine relationships that make better on the limited perspective of their parents; I’ve suffered on both, on the inside and outside of that dynamic. A parent ought to love unconditionally as a child is forced to, yet, when the parent is pushed hard enough, you’ll find that’s never the case. A child ought to be able to follow their free will without pressure, but that’s never made to be the case. I can’t even fathom coming to the conclusion my entire life was forged by my parents with all the opposition I’ve given them, but when I look plainly at the facts, the resistance I’ve given to their absolute vision has been minimal at best. Even though I believe I’ve resisted far greater than a vast majority of people ever could, I know it’s still insignificant.

Never put faith in a holy person. Every purveyor of the divine will be operating under a label which exclusivizes them against contrasting labels. Interreligious convocation is just invalid to them. Frankly, the religious label I was born with I only still use because of societal pressure because I saw this a long time ago. As much as I believe the Aga Khan is wise and has a deeper understanding of life than an insurmountable majority of humans in history could ever have, that undermines as opposed to uplifts his level of respect to those outside of his followers. Instead, some random sheikh who commits visibly greater sin than the Aga Khan has more legitimacy to the greater Ummah (Muslim Community). If these labels are means by which prejudice is enacted, these labels cannot be means for good. Truly, I am Muslim first and Ismaili second but the label holds anyone on the outside back from seeing that.

I can’t love my spouse at maximum because both of us run the risk of losing loyalty, I can’t put everything into my kids lest I unintentionally override their free will from the pressure, I can’t put all my faith into the spirit because this world channels its practice through labels that cause division more than pluralism. Humans can’t be genuinely and unconditionally kind when inconvenienced, never expect anything real out of an imperfect being.

If living for anyone else’s sake is a fallacy, does that mean life itself is selfish? Seeking happiness in a relationship with another, that’s selfish. Making your kids actions be the determiner of your own happiness, that’s selfish. Believing the label you use to describe your beliefs is more correct than anyone else’s, that’s selfish. The claim every person was put on this world to be tested to do a good is wrong if we’re required to be selfish enough to make all of our decisions based on temporal desires, familial pressures, and religious alignment.

The real test in life is a violation of those interests to do good. It requires far more virtue to act outside the realm of what’s convenient to you, what your family wants you to be, and what your religion forces upon you. That’s why I hate doing any of those things even when I’m still doing them because I’m often not given the option to act outside of them. I always found myself to be a metaphysical compatibilist for this reason, an illusion of free will exists which we can act in accordance with but are never presented with the option to.

Knowing this, I can’t believe in any person. Nor can I rightfully: marry, have children, or ascribe to a religion without a serious violation of conveniences. I’ve fought for that belief all my life, I fought hard. I’ve invested when I ever saw someone or something which could’ve agreed with my position in convenience being a restriction on free will. The potential I acted on always failed: making it in the music industry, speech/debate, my relationships. “I thought maybe I had it this time, but it slipped away”. While it’s still a remote possibility for that potential to return, everything has to be put into doubt when it’s not because that’s the default state of the world.

I want to believe in the idealism allowing me to access my free will, that’s why I’m not an incompatibilist. The people in this world are soul-crushing. There’s some person that will always find a way from enacting your own free will: a lover, a parent, a cleric. I want to believe in that dream, but the more I try, the more it fades, and the more it feels like I lost.

Do I break from this? Do I finally give in and be what I sought not to be, a human whose needs are granted in convenience? I don’t want to, but what’s left of my heart may not leave me a choice: it takes resolve to fight and I can’t even tell how much I have left in me with the last piece of potential I believed in still hanging in the balance. I’m willing to do everything to prove to her she is that because I put so much of myself into that belief. Everything I truly am is what breaks those boundaries: convincing her it’s worth the struggle, convincing her mother our souls are equal and reach the same place in acts of faith, convincing the world telling two can’t become one for something affected by anything other than their free will is wrong. If I’m incapable of breaking those boundaries, I don’t know what my free will is anymore. It’s something I feel but could never act on.

Maybe she wasn’t who I thought she was. Maybe she didn’t think marriage outweighs every other decision you can make in your life combined on account of its affect on the soul. Maybe she was just a puppet of her mother and her culture cloaked by a need to be superficially happy. Maybe she couldn’t be happier long-term with someone who pushes her to think to be her best self instead of someone who falls in line with her expectations of convenience. Maybe I was wrong in seeing her potential, but that doesn’t make being disappointed hurt any less because it’s so draining to undo a belief so strong.

I still believe in the person I knew, someone who wanted to get as much of her free will out in the open as possible and chose me as a part of that. I don’t know if that person is gone for good. If she is, I think my idealism has to leave with her and I must live in a life I hadn’t believed in up until this point. A life where no mortal deserves absolute trust. A life where the only things to live for are what’s made convenient to you. In which case, I renounce my ability to believe in free will. I’ll want my offspring to have it, but I’ll unintentionally find a way to oppress it out of them like every parent does. It’s because I have no control. I surrendered to her all of it in faith she would still be the person I knew. If that person was never real, I don’t know what I have left to believe in because I find there’s no point in beliefs without free will.

Nothing in life is forever, but the bond of marriage is eternal. We’re not married yet, so she hasn’t committed herself to me hereafter yet either. The lack of convenience is outweighing what I am to her, that’s why we’re not moving forward. There’s nothing I can say to convince her anymore we’re worth the lack of convenience, the decision is in her hands now. I’ve felt powerless from a sense of belief too many times in my life, this is the time my beliefs will be shown their validity. I have to accept it’s my flaws that caused me to believe in her willingness to overcome convenience, making me as much of a slave to convenience as any other person.

Tl;dr: people suck. I’m a person, I’m no exception to the rule unless someone I chose completely of my own free will and she hath chosen me completely of her own free will shows me differently. I don’t think I’m going to have the resilience to choose like that again.

[hino-of-the-dawn]

Supergiant Secret Santa

Surprise @jodaaariel , I was your Secret Santa for this year! You asked for a fic about the Archjustice post-exile and the Reader doing some Rites together, and I did my best to deliver.

- The blackwagon is far quieter without a good handful of the Nightwings, but the Reader doesn't find the silence unsettling. In fact it's a comfort; each moment of precious time spent without sound a sign that their friends have made it home, back to the Commonwealth where the revolution has taken place, and the new Sahrian Empire has come into power.

"Honestly Reader, how can you stand such cramped quarters?"

Well it's quieter, but not silent. The Reader sets down the book they're tending to and slowly gets to their feet, feeling their aching bones protest as they shuffle from their chair to the sleeping quarters. There stands the Archjustice- Former Archjustice, seeing as he'd been stripped of all his titles by Volfred in the revolution before being cast downriver. He looks quite different outside of his golden robe and mask, with short blonde hair and a patchwork jumpsuit that does not suit him at all.

Calmly, the Reader comments that the quarters are not cramped, and that Brighton (a name they stress much to the annoyance of the man) must be too stuck up and pampered to deal with 'commoner quarters', relishing in the irritation that Brighton wears.

He crosses his arms. "That is not the issue," he says, although it is. Being cast down twice does not do the body any favours, and the corruption that the Downside brings to Nomads and Moontouched seems to have come back in full force, greeting Brighton with slightly sharper nails and the beginning of horns in little less than two months. "There's just too many beds packed together."

It is not the first time Brighton has stayed in the wagon, the Reader reminds him, clambering into their own little bed. There's enough room for them and for a shelf of knick-knacks left behind by their fellow Nightwings. They continue, explaining that in time, he will have to get used to such small spaces.

"It's undignified," Brighton complains. The reader informs Brighton that his mother is undignified, much to the surprise of the man.

"I'll have you know that your father is undignified, Reader!" he shouts back for lack of a better insult. The Reader has kept their name under lock and key, and it seems with the amount of Exiles the Commonwealth was turning out, Brighton has forgotten theirs. They like to use it to their advantage.

Before their argument can go any further, the blackwagon lurches to a halt. Brighton groans, having only just settled down in his quarters. "Are we there already?"

It seems so, the Reader says as they hop to their feet. It's not a smooth action, but it happens. They say they're going to feed the Imps, and go look for Barker. Brighton merely hums in acknowledgement.

The ladder to the Imps is rickety and narrow, but the Reader manages just fine. They have a small bag of feed to give them, and as they reach for it, Brighton enters the common area.

They call out to him, asking what he's doing. Above them the Imps are getting impatient, so they make sure to dish out some food while also trying to keep their attention on Brighton.

He doesn't answer them. Instead he stands by the Beyonder Orb, his hand set atop it. Whatever conversation he's having is quiet, enough so that even the Reader can't hear it, nor can they sense anything that Sandra is radiating.

As they finish feeding the Imps, Brighton finishes his conversation. "She's just as bitter as ever," he grumbles as the Reader passes them by, looking for their Raiments. Ever since the Rites had finished for good and Barker had started up his own mockery, the Reader had taken every chance they could to participate. They weren't good at it by any stretch of the word, but their attempts earned cheers from the spectators.

Pulling the Raiments off the wall, they turn to Brighton and ask if he will be participating.

Brighton scoffs. "Of course," he answers, taking another set from the wall and holding them close. "I was a champion back in my time. Earned my own freedom, even without the help of..." he trails off, the words heavy on his tongue.

As the Reader dons their robes, they look to Brighton and ask a question they have had for a long time. Did he see it happen? Did he see Erisa push Oralech from the Shimmer-pool.

He slips the robes over his head and doesn't answer, covering his face with the mask of a Nomad as he steps out into the dusty plains of the Jomuer Valley. After a moment, the Reader follows after him.

The heat that usually assaulted the valley is gone under the moonlight, but the humid, thick air is still present. Despite it, there's a decent crowd around the Cairn of Ha'ub as chairs are filled and empty spaces are taken up by those who prefer to stand. Blackwagons are parked around the area, with some exiles choosing to sit atop them for a better view of the field.

The Reader wonders what Tariq and Celeste would think of their commodification of a once-sacred place. This particular site doesn't mean much to the Reader, but they do not enjoy playing on the Ridge of Gol, nor atop Mount Alodiel.

"I can't believe that Barker defiled such a place," Brighton grumbles, startling the Reader. He's right beside them now, having somehow appeared without a sound. "Anyway Reader, I suppose we must find a third for our team, and mayhaps a Reader. Although, considering the name you chose, you might be our best fit."

It's a surprise, so much so that the Reader laughs. They state their surprise at Brighton permitting them to read for him, which makes Brighton sigh. "You were an excellent Reader, one I had thought to be my successor. If someone has to boss me around, I would prefer it be you."

That's oddly flattering of him. It's the closest thing the Reader will get to a compliment anyway. They don't say that aloud however, and instead motion for Brighton to join them as they look for two more to join their Triumvirate. There are still some Nightwings in the Downside, but they have their own lives to attend to, and the Reader doesn't try to bring them to these False Rites unless they're asked.

Finding two others for their Triumvirate is easy enough. There's a small handful of hopefuls who attend the False Rites as backup players, ready to make a team if nobody shows up, or to fill a space if someone is lacking players, much like the Nightwings are.

Soon enough, Brighton finds himself with a Wyrm and a Cur on his team. They won't be big scorers on their own, but their speed might make up for that, he supposes. "Surprised you didn't opt for a Demon, Reader."

Looking over their copy of the Book of Rites, the Reader quips that Brighton's build still falls into that of a Nomad. Just a very slow one.

He bristles at the comment. "That's rude."

The Reader raises an eyebrow, face not obscured by a mask. They say that hypocrisy isn't smiled upon in the Downside, and Brighton sighs but doesn't answer.

Their conversation has no time to continue as Barker's voice rings out over the masses. He stands atop one of Shax Six-Shoulder's many ribs, looking down on the field. "Alright kids, we're ready to go! Our teams tonight are veterans, so lemme hear you all howl!"

A cacophonous sound rises up, startling Brighton. The Reader bites their lip to hold back a laugh.

"With the blue pyre, we have our Nightwings!" Barker motioned to the pyre; a hoop with blue streamers that danced in the air, reaching up towards the Sahrian Union. Brighton stood front and center, with his two new comrades at his side. The Reader stood on one side of the field, giving them a nod of encouragement.

The crowd cheered for the Nightwings, falling silent as Barker continued his announcement. "On the other side with the pink flame, we have The Chastity!"

Once again the crowd came to life as The Chastity appeared. Their team consisted of a Nomad, a Sap, and a Harp. They played without a Reader, which in most cases meant they had a Reader on their team.

Brighton gave the opposing team a once-over, turning his gaze to the Reader a moment later. He would trust their judgment and gave them a nod, signifying that fact.

"Are we ready to go? When the Orb hits the ground, we're on!"

A cur standing on the sidelines opposite the Reader readied the Orb; a glass orb purchased from the store Bertrude had once operated, which meant it was almost impossible to shatter. The cur looked to both teams carefully before tossing it into the field.

All eyes fell on the orb as it fell in a perfect arc, hitting the dusty ground with a thump. Barker howled, and the Reader raised their voice, ready to shout their commands.

As it turns out, Brighton is rather good at the Rites. The Reader's word is law in the Rites, but without the forceful guiding of the Reader overriding the free will of the Exiles, some of the moves Brighton makes precede the Reader's own decisions.

The Nightwing's Cur passes the ball to Brighton, who catches it without any effort. His motions are fluid as he dodges the thick weighted ribbons thrown at him to represent a cast aura, and the hoops attached to the Exiles which represent presence. It's like a dance, and the Reader finds themselves invested in each of his steps.

They call out for Brighton to plunge into the flame, but before the core of their sentence can get there, he casts the orb into their Pyre, netting them twenty points. "The Nightwings score first! Just like the old days, hey boys?" Barker's voice rings out over the field and the remaining members of the Dissidents all howl in glee.

With the ball in the hoop, the Chastity and Nightwings return to their respective sides, and the Reader waves Brighton over. As he approaches, they raise their voice to shout over the howling and hollering of Barker's crew, explaining that Brighton should have leapt into the Pyre.

"What, and leave us disadvantaged for the next turn? They weren't even close!" Brighton answers with crossed arms. The Reader shakes their head, explaining that the Chastity's Sap had a Sapling nearby, and that it could have taken him out if he wasn't careful. Brighton removes his mask. "But I was careful. I'm not a bumbling idiot like your Nightwings."

Irritated, the Reader covers their face. Brighton should behave, they say, which makes Brighton scowl. "You should make better decisions with your Triumvirate," he says forcefully. "Maybe then they wouldn't feel Banishment Sickness as much as they did."

Taken aback by his bluntness, the Reader states that Brighton agreed to let them read for him, and Brighton laughs. "You didn't tell me you could play with a Reader in the team, did you?" His gaze is critical, but the Reader does not flinch under it. "Maybe if you did-"

"Excuse me mates."

Barker appears beside them, causing the Reader and Brighton to put their arguments on hold. "As much as I like a good fight, we got some Rites here t'conclude. If you wanna throw hands after, then you'd better tell me and I'll have payouts ready." There's a smile that shows Barker is genuine, which makes the Reader and Brighton sigh.

"We'll talk about this later," Brighton says, sliding his mask back on. "Don't make any stupid decisions."

The Reader nods, and kindly informs Brighton that every decision he makes is stupid, so surely hearing their advice is a step in the right direction.

Barker snickers and trots off to find his betting table.

[jincherie]

a well-oiled machine | i

➛pairing: jungkook x reader ➛genre: android au, futuristic au, prostitute au, fluff, angst, smut (next part) ➛words: 14.3k ➛rating: sfw ➛warnings: none in particular in this part-- some slight drunken behaviour and an android in bad shape! hints at previous abuse ➛notes: for @cinnaminsvga !! happy birthday zee!! i wuv u uwu !! <33 enjoy your roboporn u mecha slutte -- I’m sorry its not completely done!! I’ll do my best to pull the rest out my ass asap!!! <3 <3 <3

Your life takes a bit of a turn when you stumble upon an android in pieces, hidden in an alleyway in an area known for its shadows and debauchery. Taking him home to fix him might have been the best decision you’d ever made, but perhaps there was a little more to the android JK01-97 than you’d initially thought.

→posted; 20.08.2018

→ masterlist | part ii

Through the cool blue and lilac glow that fell from the holographic signs lining the streets, the fat droplets beginning to pelt from the sky and the darkness that began to linger alongside the buildings, a form was just barely visible. Jumbled and disorganised, a mess of metal and synthetic material that had seen better days was propped against a dumpster and the brick wall behind it. Hovering vehicles sped past, women in heels and men in dress shoes strode by, all oblivious to the shape hidden just inside the alley. The droplets that had sprinkled now began to pour from the heavens in earnest, and the form began to grow soaked. Water pooled across the chipped and uneven concrete, dripping and mixing with the deep, burnt violet that trickled slowly from metallic shapes that looked vaguely like limbs, the metal torn and busted, and the flesh-like material spread across it ripped and ruined. As the remaining light of day fled the sky and the distant rumble of brontide pierced the damp air, time began to run out for the form. It had been there for days, untouched by anything but nature, and while the LED light in its eyes had managed to remain, now it had begun to flicker. It was a hopeless night, a hopeless storm growing closer, and the glow of the signs’ light reflecting across the puddles was beginning to overpower the form’s own.

He didn’t have much longer at all.

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The Red Light District wasn’t a place you enjoyed visiting, nor one you frequented by choice. Rather, it was a necessary evil; just on the other side of the district lay a waste field, ripe with discarded technology and all the parts in the world a simple tinkerer like you could ever want. Normally, someone such as yourself seeking to pilfer the field for parts and goods would be refused entry, but you had the luck of knowing and befriending the owner. Mr Bang was a retired scientist, an inventor of sorts, who’d specialised in AI and had even mentored some of your friends in their studies before he reached an age where he decided it was time to leave the profession. It was, in a way, quite peculiar that he now owned and managed what was essentially a trash yard for discarded technology. From simple things like microwaves and hoverboards to the rare early-age android, He collected them and stored them. The only place he’d managed to find big enough for all his, well, junk had been the warehouse on the other side of the Red Light District. And so, that was where you had to go— actually, it was where you were trying to go right now, if the storm and resulting traffic decided to let up.

Your car was somewhat a relic of an older time, but still technologically advanced enough that it was allowed on the road with other vehicles. You’d grown up being taught to drive by your parents, and secretly longed to be able to drive your own car, but the laws in this day and age were quite clear. On roads that hovercraft and wheeled vehicles shared, only automatic, self-driving units were allowed. Gone were the days when you controlled the speed of your own car, the turns and brakes. It was nice not having to think about all of those things on the journey to your destination, but at the same time you found it gave you too much time to think. While it took more mental capacity, driving in itself was a mindless sort of activity. You liked that it quietened your thoughts, but supposed you’d just have to deal as always with how loud they were for now.

You let out a sigh as you remained in the same position you’d been in for the past few minutes, bumper to bumper with two other cars. In a day and age when crashes on the road were few and far between, you weren’t sure what the hold-up was this time. You supposed it was probably the road itself— the rain had come out of nowhere and with so much in so little time, you didn’t doubt the winding, dipping roads of this area were prone to flooding. Automatic cars were incredible in their seamless ability to drive with much less hazard, but had a flaw in their programming; some, especially older models, were so wired to uphold their passenger’s safety that they sometimes jumped the gun a little bit. In example, what was probably happening a little further up the road was that a car or hovercraft was halted before a stream or pool of water. Its sensors and computer would register danger, and would lock the wheels or engine so that the danger was not intercepted. This was problematic when the water was only a few centimetres deep and easily driven through. There was a function for events like this, that allowed the passenger to commandeer the vehicle for a few minutes and override any automatic inhibitors, but the process of accessing that setting was… tedious. In all honesty, the time it took to activate manual driving was probably what caused this back-up of traffic in the first place, rather than a road being completely flooded. Your car thrummed suddenly, engine revving softly, and you moved forward one whole car space before you halted again. Then, no doubt, the process began once more.

You were getting tired of sitting here, gazing out the window in a district where there were things you likely didn’t want to see. The rhythmic swiping of the windshield wipers could only distract you for so long before you were seeking other entertainment. The storm had momentarily interfered with the local cell towers so you couldn’t even browse the internet, and you weren’t in the mood for any of your games. You liked the mindless kind, the easy ones with a little story and detail to spice them up, but your thoughts were currently too active for something like that. So, sitting and staring out the window it was.

You were wondering if it was better to forgo a visit to the tech yard this time. At this rate you were going to tear your own hair out before you even got to the other side of the district, and you didn’t want to even entertain the thought of what it would be like beyond the blocks of buildings and maintained roads. You shuddered. Perhaps you’d give it a few minutes, and if the traffic didn’t sort itself out by then you’d head on home. It was getting late as it was anyway. Well, six o’clock in the evening wasn’t technically that late, but you’d been up since early running the store and you were eager for the day to end.

It was hard to see through the pelting rain that melted against the glass and did its very best to obscure your vision, but you still managed to catch it as a woman in a short dress and crimson heels scurried past, bag held over her head in meagre protection from the rain— until her foot lost traction on the flooded path and she slipped. You gasped, wincing at the way her knees made contact with the concrete, and were opening the door of your car with an umbrella in hand before you could give it a second thought, ignoring it as your car letting loose a string of warning noises and a soft artificial tone, ‘Miss y/n, please get back in the car. Climbing out of a moving vehicle is a safety hazard.’

Well, your car wasn’t exactly moving but she had the right idea.

You hurried over to the woman, your form instantly growing soaked in the downpour. You managed not to flinch as a flash of lightning greeted your vision and thunder boomed and rumbled above almost instantly after. Ah, the storm was right above you, it would seem.

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked, speaking louder so she’d be able to hear you over the rain. The woman looked up, surprised that someone had stopped to help. Her eyes were a warm cocoa that matched her auburn locks, gratitude filtering into her irises as you popped open the umbrella above her. “I saw you slip a bit in the puddle.”

The woman winced, adjusting the way she sat so her knees were removed from the rough texture of the pavement; blood seeped from the scrapes marring her tanned skin, diluting in the water pooling along the path. She accepted your hand and wobbled to a stand. You scooped up her bag for her. “A-ah, yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t slip, though. I tripped on that.”

At the last word she gestured loosely, hands then returning and brushing tentatively over the torn skin on her knees. Your gaze followed the movement, surprise filtering through you at the sight of something metallic a few feet away, gleaming in the glow of the holographic sign above you. You squinted through the rain, trying to discern what it was. The urge to investigate tickled under your skin, tugging your sternum, but you forced yourself to remain where you were by the woman.

“Ah,” you murmured, blinking as you returned your attention to the situation at hand. You passed her the umbrella. “Here, you can have this— my car is just over there. Do you need help walking…?”

The woman blushed, shaky hands dusting her soaked dress as though there would be real dust clinging to the fibres in this weather. A little concern budded within you as you caught sight of her skin again and worried that she was beginning to turn a little blue.

“N-no, thank you though,” she held her hands up, and you winced as you caught the scraped skin of her palms. She took the umbrella from you with a sheepish look. “I’ll be ok. Thank you very much for helping.”

“If you’re sure,” you smiled, passing her the bag you’d picked up; she accepted it with a shy grin. “And it’s no problem. Try not to trip again.”

She let loose a giggle and agreed, offering a brief wave before she was off once more, trekking through the rain at a slightly slower pace now that she had an umbrella to stop her getting soaked. You, on the other hand, were now suffering for your generosity. You didn’t mind though— this was the excuse to go straight home that you’d been looking for, and you weren’t one to turn down an opportunity when it was so nicely presented to you.

Although, before you went back to your car…

You checked behind you quickly, and once assured that traffic wasn’t about to move again anytime soon, you dashed forward in the rain to the alley where the item lay that had tripped that poor lady. It grew clearer the closer you got, and it wasn’t long before you were halting in surprise.

A… hand?

Realisation quickly dawned on you as you caught sight of a thick cord attached to the bottom that lead further into the alley. An android— but what was an android doing here with its hand almost completely severed?

In all honesty, there were a number of likely explanations— androids weren’t human, and as such there were many legal… loopholes, with things one could get away with— and your heart hurt at the thought of every one of them. You quickly ducked into the alleyway, now just barely shielded from the rain by the brick wall of the building to your right. The alleyway was illuminated only by the glow of the holographic signs at the edge of the building, a dim blue and violet cast all you had to go off as you crouched and peered at the large lump before you. It took you a moment to take it in.

It appeared to be a male, of unclear make and model. Your heart throbbed in your chest— god, it was in absolute pieces. There wasn’t a single inch of its form that hadn’t been beaten or damaged. The synthetic material covering its outside was ripped and frayed, stained deep plum from the fluid that ran through droids like blood, the metal frame bent and dented and, in some places, even torn. You knew it was just an android, but the thought of anything— anyone going through something like this, no doubt at the hands of their owner, made your heart ache.

Your gaze scanned its form, sadness gathering within you at each new detail you took in— until you halted, surprise catching your breath in your throat. With the amount of damage this android had sustained, you’d thought it would no doubt be, well, dead. But the dim, flickering light you caught glowing behind closed lids ceased those thoughts— he was hanging on, clinging to life against all odds.

The light was weak, just barely there, and you knew that if you left him here he would die. If he had already gone, you might have taken him for parts— it was a better fate than leaving his frame to rust and decay. But now, knowing that he was alive… you had to help him. You tinkered for a living, you fixed things, repaired things— it was a family thing. In your mother’s case, the things she specialised in fixing were androids. And now, knowing that you had the skills, the knowledge, the opportunity to help one— you couldn’t leave it, couldn’t leave him. Your mother wouldn’t have, and you wouldn’t either.

You moved quickly, not wanting the android to have any more exposure than necessary to this atrocious weather. Thunder rumbled above you once more as you shimmied out of your soaked jacket, using it to gather and wrap up the parts of him that were closest to falling off. Some of his limbs might have been hanging dangerously, some panels popped loose, but for the most part everything was still attached in some way— even if it was only by a few wires or cords. You gathered his pieces, jacket wrapped around him to keep them together, and slipped your arms around his form to heave him up with a great huff. He was heavier than you anticipated, much heavier, but you’d be able to make it to your car okay.

You peered over your shoulder, through the rain, and upon confirming your car was still where you left it, you grasped the android tight and hurried over, wary of slipping in the various puddles. In the short time you’d been out of the car, the relentless downpour seemed to have made them grow deeper.

Your car beeped at you, politely requesting you get back inside as you popped the back door open and carefully laid the android’s cold, slack form across the backseat. Once sure he was safely secured, you shut the door and opened your own, diving into the seat and out of the rain, shivering a little. Right, well. That wasn’t how you’d expected this evening to go.

With cold, stiff fingers, you tapped the navigation panel and input your home as a new destination. The car hummed in affirmation, hot air beginning to blast as it read your significantly lowered body temperature. You allowed a smile as the car shifted and scanned the area before the wheels turned and it was performing a u-turn when safe— you were really beginning to appreciate these automatic vehicles a lot more.

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Laid across your workbench like this, all of his pieces rearranged to where they should be, you had to acknowledge that the android was handsome.

You’d connected him to a power port to stabilise his system as soon as you’d arrived home, and now you were talking a moment to admire the sight before you. The level of detail and dedication present in his features, in each suture of synthetic skin and weld of metal framing. You were in awe that someone besides yourself, besides your family, had taken such pride and care in their work— it wasn’t common nowadays, when most things were made by machines. Even for an android, it was difficult to emulate the level of attention to detail present in the works of someone who truly loves and enjoys their craft.

The android— model JK01-97, as you’d seen from the inked code on the inside of the wrist that was still attached to his arm— was almost a work of art. The skin, while you knew it was synthetic, felt real to the touch, and the hair shone beneath your work light with all the radiance of authentic, healthy locks found on humans. The line of thick lashes that crossed and clumped lightly, the sculpt of the brows and face— it was the kind of complete beauty that couldn’t be found in factory perfect androids, modelled after the impossibly image of beauty humans always strived for. His lips were uneven in their fullness, cupid’s bow pronounced, and his skin— the parts that weren’t damaged— was a lovely golden and had the occasional cute freckle decorating it.

It hadn’t been long since you’d arrived home with the android, and as a result you hadn’t had the time to really do anything yet. Your gaze swept over his form, the ripped clothing over his legs and his bare feet. Only pants… had his other clothes been so badly damaged they’d just fallen away? And his collar… most androids had collars with tracking chips in them so that their owner could find them in the event they were ever stolen, but this one… his throat was bare, though there was a slight discolouration on the skin that showed where the collar had been. You let out a sigh, the sight confirming what you’d thought all along; it had been his owner that did this to him— took the chip, beat him and then discarded him like nothing more than a cheap toy. You frowned, hand lifting from your side.

“I’m so sorry they did this to you, JK,” you said softly, brushing the soft raven strands from his forehead. The synthetic skin was stained plum where it was busted open, the android equivalent of blood having seeped out of the lesion. The informal name was Violet Blood, since that was essentially what it was, but it was more technically known as AMF— Android Maintenance Fluid. Not the flashiest name, but it did its job.

You watched as the thin ring that usually ran around the outer edge of an android’s irises glowed dim, deep blue beneath his eyelids. That colour indicated that he was currently in a state similar to very, very deep sleep, or really something more like a coma. It was a state their systems initiated when circumstances were unideal and the need to survive overran the need for more or less ‘conscious’ control. It was as though they went into standby, hibernated, until conditions were ideal once more. This meant when the stressors were gone, and the body was in optimal condition for operation again.

So, for this android— JK, as you’d begun calling him from his model number— to wake up, you needed to fix his body up. His frame, his skin, his wiring and circuitry were all you’d noted to be damaged so far, and you hadn’t even gotten to run scans on his programming and system state yet… you certainly had your work cut out for you. Could you really do it? You’d never fixed an android by yourself before...

Your gaze flicked up, to the right corner of your desk where a holographic picture frame sat. At the sight of your mother in movement, glaring playfully at the camera with the corner of her lips betraying her expression and twitching into a smile before she grinned brightly and waved, you returned your gaze to the figure laying prone before you with a renewed sense of determination. You could do it; it might take some time, and some patience, and probably a fair bit of money, but you could do it.

You adjusted the strands that fell over his forehead, brushing off a speck of dust from his cheek.

“I'll do my best to fix you, JK,” you vowed, tone conveying how serious you were. “I promise.”

And do your best, you did.

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First, you decided, was the frame.

The android’s metal framing was, in a word, wrecked. It was dented, wrangled, and had taken more abuse than you’d thought possible. Considering it was so deep inside of his form, covered by layers of wires and cushioning materials, it was somewhat hard to gain the access you needed to fix it as best as you could. You had to carefully strip back synthetic skin and the harder casing beneath, part the wires and cords that acted as makeshift tendons and ligaments. The only experience you had in this area was when you’d accepted a job to repair some animatronics for an old restaurant franchise that extended from a brand of cinemas. It was similar in essence, but in details… there were more differences than you could count.

It was an activity that required a lot of time and a lot of patience, since you didn’t want to damage any part of him more than it already had been. The fact that you put such care into sorting out the frame, fixing kinks and welding the parts that had torn back together, meant that it took much longer than you originally thought. In amongst your daily tasks and jobs that came from running a second-hand goods and repair store, it took you over a week to completely adjust his frame. But once you were done, at no extra cost to the android, you were excited— the frame was more or less like the bones. Now that you had stable grounds to work on, you could get to the other areas.

As you’d gone along, you’d cleaned the android’s form wherever you were working. But now, as you settled before him once more with the bright warmth of a Saturday morning sun cast across your side, you decided he deserved to be cleaned properly before you continued to the next stage.

“God…” you winced as you brought the damp cloth across his forehead, wiping away the plum and lilac stains that marred his skin. His AMF levels had dropped enough that he’d stopped ‘bleeding’, but the sight of it still wasn’t entirely pleasant. “How could someone do this to you…?”

You couldn’t fathom how someone could expend all the money it required to purchase an android, and then treat it so poorly. It baffled you, but also angered you— with how advanced they had become in recent years, you grew more and more uncomfortable with the fact they were treated with such disregard. At this point, models were in production that could emulate a similar version of the care a parent felt for their child— nanny bots, of course. How long before they went too far in their endeavours and their creations were too human to fit into the box society had created for them?

For some reason, you found yourself talking to the android, JK, more often than you talked to yourself. You thought that perhaps it was the fact he looked so real, so human, that the idea of having company even if it was currently somewhat comatose was better than having no company at all, as it usually was. You weren’t always lonely, per se, but some days you certainly felt it more than others. It was just the way things were, you supposed.

“I’ll have to ask Seokjin if he has a manual for you,” you hummed as you went, talking to both yourself and him. The dark blue LED blinked behind his eyelid. You brought the cloth to his skin over and over, removing the unsightly, crusted stains. AMF was oilier than human blood, had a bit of a sheen, but it came easily off his skin. “I think I know what parts you’ll need, there’s a few that need replacing and some are missing, but I think it would be better to check. You seem… like a special model.”

You tilted your head as you stepped back to dip the cloth in the bucket beside you and wring it out; the water was dyed purple from the fluid that had gathered on the rag, colour dripping from your clenched fist. You allowed one hand to hold it, letting it drip dry for a second, and used your other to run your fingers softly over the planes of his face, almost with a sense of reverence.

“The amount of detail and care in your make… It’s really incredible, JK,” you told him, catching sight of a smudge you’d missed and wringing the rest of the soapy water out of the rag. You dabbed the mark away, resuming your task of cleaning the stains from his form as you spoke. “I really hope I can restore you. You seem like a really advanced android— and you’re almost a work of art, you know. I wonder who made you…”

There were a few companies that made androids, but they were all essentially owned by the same people. Each company hired different scientists, different employees, and tailored to different areas. In your whole life, though, you’d never seen an android, living or dead, as advanced or as detailed as JK. The desire to know what he was designed for, and who made him, burned deeply within you.

Seokjin, someone you’d known a long time, was one of the friends that had studied under Mr Bang. You could never quite remember which company he worked for— didn’t even know if he was allowed to tell you, technically. Not that that had ever stopped him running his mouth— but you knew he was excellent at his job and had a real passion for creating the AI, modelling their bodies and bringing them to life. He had a team that worked with him, some also your friends and a few you didn’t know, but he was usually the head of the projects. You would have to ask Seokjin about a manual, so you could look at the right parts, and if you couldn’t get one through him you’d probably have to hit up Mr Bang. You didn’t doubt he had a fair few collected and lying around from his years in the profession and time spent collecting junk.

“Ok, you’re all clean now and as handsome as ever,” you muttered to the android lying prone and asleep across your workspace, feeling very much like you were talking to a child who couldn’t yet respond back. “Now, I need to get your parts… and for that I need a manual. I can’t hook up your wires without all your pieces back inside you.”

This halted your little project for a few days, along with the fact you received a sudden influx of orders for repairs and fixes that came in through your shop. It wasn’t that hard, running a store on your own, but it was times like these where you had things going on in the background that you really felt it the most. It was only a mild inconvenience, but you were nonetheless glad when you finally managed to get your hands on a manual for JK.

It had been surprisingly hard to find one, and Mr Bang had been the one to help you; Seokjin was currently wrapped up in a big project and you hadn’t been able to get a hold of him. You’d both scoured long and hard, and you didn’t understand why it was so hard to find a manual for JK when there was a plethora of manuals available for all other makes and models— that is, you didn’t understand until you actually read JK’s manual. It was somewhat in pieces, sections missing, but enough was there for you to get most of the information you needed; it was the only one you were able to find, so you’d have to make do.

JK01-97, was part of a special line of androids and, essentially, one of a kind. While not the only one in the JK line, he was the only one of his specific make and model. You’d heard a bit about this line from Seokjin, an extension of the J branch, how each model was the only one in the world to look like that and have that specific personality. It explained the level of detail, commitment and care that you saw in him— he wasn’t just one of a hundred or more, he was the only one of his model to ever be made. His creator took pride in him, and knowing that just saddened you even more at the fact that whoever bought him had then treated him with such disregard and trashed him to such a degree. He deserved better.

Once you had the manual, you were able to begin ordering parts. There were chapters of the manual missing, pages and pages, but all the sections on mechanical components were present and that was good enough for you. Unfortunately, one of the missing sections was the one that covered functioning and purpose, so you still didn’t know exactly what JK had been made for. You supposed you’d find out once he was awake, given you managed to actually fix him.

You ordered the parts you needed, and one by one they began to arrive, with the occasional, expected delay. It took around two weeks for all of the parts to arrive; already this project was beginning to take longer than you usually spent, but you could tell in the end it would be worth it. In the meantime you worked on other things, small devices— the occasional holoframe, phones, a busted coffee machine, even. Your days weren’t overloaded but you were kept busy, and your account was kept full. You did your best to monitor the android in between jobs, making sure his condition didn’t worsen somehow. It was unlikely, but you’d rather be on the safe side.

As soon as you had all the parts, the android JK became your number one priority once more. Since you’d fixed his frame first and gotten the manual, you now had a stable guideline for where you were placing what. Androids were incredibly complex creations, you knew this, but JK… he was something else. You began to notice now as you worked that after you’d cleaned his synthetic skin, it began trying to fuse back together on its own. It was fascinating, the way you watched a small cut draw closed seamlessly, fibres reaching for the other side and binding as soon as they made contact. The way it smoothed over, like there’d never been a cut in the first place, reminded you oddly of the way kinetic sand would move and mould itself back together.

Bolts, screws, little pieces of technology that might have been hard to get a hold of if you didn’t have the contacts you did; bit by bit you put JK’s insides back together. He was missing a few important parts, but most of it was just the odd bolt, gear or wire. His computer system seemed to be intact, but you wouldn’t know for sure if anything was damaged until you hooked him up and ran some scans. That would be the last part of the process, though. You had a little while to go before you were at that point.

You were prone to humming as you worked, singing if you found yourself in a good enough mood, and it was no different as you worked on JK. Compared to the wait time for the parts, it didn’t take long at all for you to put them back where they belonged and fix them in place. You were done in just over a week, to your pleasant surprise. You were excited to move onto the next part— fixing his wires and circuitry was probably the part of the whole process that came easiest to you, after all. Most of the devices you tinkered with on the daily had wiring and you’d come to be pretty well versed in the reparation of items that relied heavily on it.

Idly, as you completed your last task to do with the repair of his parts, you thought that were your mother here to see your work, she’d probably be proud. The thought brought a slight mist to your eye, and your gaze was side-tracked to the holoframe on your workbench before you blinked it back and returned your attention back to JK’s abdomen. Right, things to do. You could get sentimental another time.

His body had been sculpted in a way that was very visually appealing, and while you could appreciate it, you had to wonder what purpose it served. Usually androids were only built with features that directly served the purpose for which they had been made. But, you supposed, the creator of this android had really just gone above and beyond in each and every aspect, you wouldn’t be surprised if there hadn’t been any real reason for it. It happened like that, sometimes. Art was prone to taking on a mind of its own when its creator was immersed and in love with their craft.

Wherever there had been dents or lacerations across his body, you’d attended to the wires that had been damaged as a result, starting on the peripheral and moving inwards. This, while it came easier to you, was still a painstakingly slow process; and while juggling this project with your own work and the shop, it ended up taking several weeks to work your way over the entirety of his body. You tried to do a little every day, but some days you were just too tired, too exhausted, to give the amount of attention and focus needed for the job. You always made up for lost time though, the next day more often than not consisting largely of working on JK. Now you were on the final area, a panel hidden in his abdomen that had been dented inwards and was unable to seal back as the rest of his form did, and were going over the clusters of wires and connections. You’d slipped on a pair of spectacles that magnified your vision and helped you focus, and had spent the better part of a week on this section alone.

Each bundle was grouped specifically and with purpose, and you had to be careful that they weren’t separated or lost from their group. The wires might have been colour coordinated, but that was only in regard to the sections they’d been sorted into; this meant there were double-ups on colours and it would be very difficult to sort one from the other should they get confused. Hence, the amount of time you’d spent here, carefully sorting and repairing wires and circuitry as needed. Your effort and patience paid off, however, and eventually you were finishing, popping the dent out of the panel and watching with fascination as you set it in place and the skin fused as you’d seen it do before, his abdomen soon showing no sign that the panel even existed.

You smiled, proud of how much progress you’d made so far as you gazed upon his form before you. You’d spent the a little over two months altogether working on this android, doing your very best to repair him, and very soon you would be done— it was something you could hardly believe. You were excited, anxious to see if the time and toil you’d poured into fixing this robot had paid off. A gaze to the side where the window sat told you perhaps you’d pushed it a little too close this time, the barest hints of the morning sun beginning to peek across the horizon outside. You let out a sheepish chuckle.

“Whoops,” you murmured, fighting a yawn. “Got a bit too carried away, I suppose. I better sleep— the shop isn’t going to run itself tomorrow, after all. Although, before I go to bed…”

You hummed in thought, allowing your hand to rest gently on his shoulder, finger tapping softly against the skin. As expected, he didn’t stir, remaining motionless on the table. The only thing left to do was run scans and do a full sweep of his system to see what had been affected and what would need to be repaired. Androids had a self-repair function for their programs and processing systems, but if the damage was bad enough there was the possibility you’d need to step in and repair what you could so that it could kick in and take over. Most of the damage he’d taken seemed to be external— you hadn’t had to fix the wiring as much as you had the frame, although both had been in a poor condition in their own ways.

With the technology at your disposal, it wouldn’t take long to perform the initial scan, and it would be good to know what you were working with. So, without much resistance on your end, you decided to perform it now, before you went to bed.

“I think I’ll do the scan now,” you voiced your thoughts aloud, for the android’s sake if nothing else. You didn’t think he could hear you, he was essentially comatose after all, but it felt… right, although you weren’t sure why. “We’re so close to being done, JK. I hope I’ve done enough.”

You hummed a half-hearted tune as you lifted his arm, taking his wrist into your grasp and pressing right where the vein would be in a human. There was a soft pop and shick! as a tiny panel, about the size of your thumbnail, revealed itself before your eyes, lifting vertically before it slid back over the skin of his forearm. You’d hooked JK up to a power source as soon as you arrived home with him so many months ago, but to scan his systems you’d need a different sort of connection. Holding his wrist in one hand, you used the other to fish amongst your tools for the cord you needed.

You let out a soft, victorious noise as you found it, quickly taking it into your grasp and pushing the thin needle into the receiving jack in the android’s wrist. You tapped your tablet, the screen lighting immediately, and slid your finger over the scan button. Immediately, there was a sudden hum and warmth washed down the android’s arm; you watched in awe as a faint purple, rosy hue lit beneath his skin in a pattern so pretty it could almost rival the stars. The LED beneath his eyelids flickered beneath deep blue and rosy violet. The screen of your tablet flashed, telling you that it was beginning the holistic system scan.

It didn’t take long at all for it to complete, thankfully (you might have wanted to continue working, but even you couldn’t deny how exhausted you were), and soon you were sitting, looking upon its results with an expression of concentration. Your teeth found your lip as you swiped through the report, taking in the information rapidly. Most of his systems were intact, if a bit damaged, but one in particular had been severely compromised. A shard of sadness wedged itself into your heart— his memory centres had taken a blow, and while you didn’t know what specifically he had lost or exactly how much, you knew from the scan that it was a lot of data. You felt terrible, despite the fact you knew it more than likely wasn’t a result of your fiddling but of the initial abuse he’d suffered.

Even in your tired state, your fingers managed to fly across the screen with ease. You breezed through his other results, before coming back to the ones that were affected. The others would be able to self-repair; the memory centres would be able to as well, but before you even attempted to task his system with that you’d need to do a bit of work. There was significant data loss, most of which you had no idea how to fix or retrieve, but there were some pathways you could reconnect manually on your own. You did your best with this for a while, finally stopping when your eyes blurred and sunlight began to peek through the window, unable to continue even if you wanted to.

You’d done what you could, now the rest of it was up to him. You stood, stretching your tight, tired limbs and letting loose a loud yawn. It was finally time for bed, but before you went…

“I’m going to go now,” you murmured to the android, reaching for your tablet and tapping across the screen— JK’s systems processed the command for a moment before they initiated self-repair as you’d told them. Purple glowed beneath his skin once more, and you let another soft smile slide across your face. “I’ve done what I can… I hope it’s enough. It’s up to you now, bud. I think you can do it— you hung on in that alley for lord knows how long, you can do this.”

You swallowed, feeling oddly emotional as you gazed upon his form. You didn’t have the words to put to the feeling currently making your eyes water and heart squeeze, and didn’t bother attempting to analyse it right now. You’d worked so hard, he’d worked so hard by clinging to life in that alley for so long before you found him— the fact that there was a possibility he still wouldn’t wake up was almost inconceivable to you. You bit your lip, brushing the hair from his forehead tenderly before, after a moment’s deliberation, you bent and pressed a soft kiss to the skin.

“Sleep well, JK,” you said softly, gazing upon the strong planes of his face with a fondness you hadn’t known you possessed for him— he was an android, but you’d spent the better part of two months tending to his every need and wound, repairing him, fixing him, healing him… it was hard not to grow attached in that time. “I look forward to meeting you whenever you wake up.”

With that you stood and allowed your body to stretch once more, before you began to shuffle out. You hit the light on the way out, the dim glow beneath JK’s skin the only thing illuminating the room now save for the trickling sunlight beginning to peek through the window. You cast one more look his way, chest stirring, before you exited your workroom and allowed the door to close behind you. The trip to your bedroom was spent in a tired daze, and you slipped into your comfiest pair of pyjamas before flopping onto your bed and wriggling comfortably beneath the covers.

You were out the second your head hit the pillow.

Your sleep was deep, and wholesome, and when you woke it wasn’t exactly with full coherency. You yawned, registering the deep sunlight streaming from your window, between the blinds you’d forgotten to close, and the warmth you were encased in as a result. It was just shy of toasty, and you were tempted to stay where you were before your stomach gave a loud, undeniable protest and you were slipping from the bed reluctantly. You tried to remember what you had in your cupboard— you’d been so wrapped up in your work these past weeks you’d forgone a few grocery trips and social outings. You were sure to be feeling the results when you made it to the kitchen—

Hold on.

You halted in your hallway, head tilting as you strained your ears. The slightest, softest shuffling could be heard, gentle cluttering of cutlery against a hard surface— there was someone in your kitchen? You were too tired for the alarm to really sink in, but you were definitely more awake as you continued down the hall quietly, peering around the doorway once you reached the room in question. Your mind ceased for a moment as your gaze fell upon the source of the noise and a gasp fell from your lips, but you didn’t have any longer than that to process it.

The figure in your kitchen turned around, apparently having heard your soft intake of breath, and upon catching sight of you standing in the doorway a bright smile lit across their face.

“Creator!” it was a strikingly familiar male, but the contrast between how you were used to seeing him, across your workbench, to how you were seeing him now, upright and rushing towards you, gave you whiplash. You didn’t have time to prepare as the android you’d been repairing for months, who was now apparently awake, came careening across the kitchen space and into you, his arms wrapping around your form tightly and holding you close.

You let out a soft ‘eep!’ as he buried his face in your neck, swaying you in the hug— he was an android, what was he doing? He was hugging you, like— like he was feeling overwhelmed with joy, or— or emotion. That wasn’t… that shouldn’t be possible!

Your body acted out of habit and muscle memory more than anything as your arms came up to embrace him back, thoughts whirring as you tried to comprehend the current situation. “...JK?”

The android pulled back, a sheepish smile tugging his lips as he released you— your heart fluttered at the detail his creator had put into his face now that you got to see it in action. The wrinkle of his eyes as his whole face smiled, cheeks lifting and bunny teeth peeking from behind his lips. God, his eyes shone, LED around his iris glowing soft lilac. That light was the only thing that betrayed the fact this man was not human.

“You’re awake, creator,” the was such glee in his tone, something in your chest clenched. He shouldn’t be so— so emotive! This… you’d never seen anything like this. It was like you were talking and interacting with a real human; it felt surreal. “I was waiting for you.”

“I’m not your creator,” you murmured, eyes wide as they swept over his form. Everything seemed to be running fine, normal, but… was this normal? In this world and society, no. But was this normal for him? Had he always been like this? Were these detailed emulations, or had something in his programming mutated to allow him to feel genuine emotions? Your mind was reeling.

JK’s head tilted, dark doe eyes holding your own as the ring around his iris ran soft blue. “No, you’re not,” he admitted, appearing for the first time to act like you knew androids to act. “But you are the one that fixed me. You made me anew.”

Your mouth parted; you didn’t have a response to that. The android was quick to read your expression and attempt to decipher it.

“But… if you do not wish to be called that,” he began, a tentative note in his voice, “What shall I call you? Owner? Mistress?”

Heat rushed to your face, embarrassment causing you to stumble over your words slightly. “My name is fine— you can call me y/n.”

“y/n,” the android echoed, as though testing how it rolled from his tongue and lips. A bright smile suddenly split his lips and your heart nearly faltered at the sight of it alone. “Thank you, y/n, for fixing me.”

And with that the android took you into his arms once more, and you were left just as confused and baffled as before.

What the hell did you do now?

x     x     x     x     x     x     x     x     x

In the two days since JK had risen from his comatose state, you’d learnt a lot— both about him, and in general.

You’d wanted to run another scan to see how his systems were doing, but he’d grown sheepish and assured you that he was already running scans and his damaged systems were in the process of self-repairing. You’d asked about his memories, and with a somewhat indecipherable look he informed you that while he had some, he had lost a majority of them. He couldn’t remember where or what he did before you found him, couldn’t remember his owner or creator. He hadn’t had a name before you found him, but you had a feeling that if he did he wouldn’t remember that either.

Everything you’d expected to experience when your project woke up had been promptly thrown out the window the second you’d found him in your kitchen two days ago. It was very apparent from the get-go that JK was unlike any other android you’d ever seen or even heard of. Aside from those first few hours, the android hadn’t displayed any other intense bouts of emotion, but there was a quality about him that led you to believe he was still feeling. Soft smiles that didn’t feel programmed, but that reached his eyes— the way those eyes would light upon seeing you, and the LED would flicker summer orange. There were little details in his speech and movement, and honestly you were still reeling. Had he been made this way? Was he the greatest achievement to-date in technological advancement? Or had he been made like any other android, and his software, his programming, had mutated? The possibilities were endless, and you didn’t know where to begin looking to find the answer.

One thing you noticed, in particular, was that JK was surprisingly clingy. There was hardly a minute that went by without him by your side or doing something for you around your house. He was very helpful, and it was all of his own volition; not once had you told him to clean— quite the opposite, really— but he’d taken it upon himself to do it anyway. You’d asked him about it on the second day of walking into the kitchen to catch him doing your dishes, and he’d offered you a soft smile, the ring around his eyes glowing warm lilac.

“You have been kind to me,” he’d said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Kinder than most people. I want to pay you back some way, even though this isn’t much...”

You’d had to leave before he picked up the increase in your heart rate and the flustered flush across your cheeks, a hurried ‘thanks’ thrown his way. He’d happily returned to his task, unbothered by your sudden departure aside from a slight furrow in his brow to indicate confusion.

Your third day with the android you’d saved from the street, and you were beginning to get used to having him around. Once you got past the initial display of emotion that had thrown you so, you noticed a lot more robotic tendencies that he had. He was still a machine, an android, but with each flash of emotion across his face you began to play with the idea that perhaps, realistically, he wasn’t too far from human after all. With so much going on in your head, so many thoughts struggling to make themselves known, you hadn’t really gotten to sit down and spend some time with your new housemate. It saddened you a bit; you wanted to know a bit more about him, wanted to talk to him. Ever since he’d woken your interest had been piqued and you wanted to learn everything there was to know about your android.

It was cool afternoon when you finally succumbed to the urge that had been calling beneath your skin the past few days. After a moment of deliberation, you halted your current activity, dropping the tools from your hands and listening as they made soft clinking noises upon impact with your workbench. JK, who had been standing behind you ramrod straight as he gazed over your shop and the shelves upon shelves of trinkets and devices, jumped at the sudden noise. His head whipped around just in time to see you turning, removing the plastic gloves you sometimes wore to protect your hands from oil. A trace of surprise registered across his features, the ring around his iris running green as he processed your current actions.

“You are finished?” he queried, peering over your shoulder before his brows furrowed, eyes returning to your own. “But the phone is not fixed… it is odd for you to take a break so early into the project. Is something the matter?”

You tried not to show how flustered you were that he knew your habits so well after only three days with him. “It’s not, but I’ll come back to it later. Nothing is wrong.”

You offered a smile, “I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

The android seemed taken aback, mouth falling open. “With me?” he echoed, brows drawn together. “But why?”

“Because I find you interesting,” you answered easily, reclining in your work chair while trying not to let it spin. “And I want to know more about you. You’re not like many androids I’ve seen, JK.”

The android shuffled, and you wondered if he was possibly feeling discomfort of some sort. You’d seen him display some emotions— were they limited? Could he only feel a set amount?

“JK,” he echoed once more, gaze averting before it returned to your face, somewhat bashful. “I remember you calling me that while you worked on me. Why?”

You were surprised at his words, your eyes widening a little. “I didn’t know if you had a name, and I didn’t want to just call you android. It felt rude. I took it from your model number, see?”

You reached for his wrist, turning it so he registered the numbers there. He made a soft sound of understanding. You spoke again, though, curious about something he’d said, “Did you say you could hear me while I worked on you, while you were unconscious?”

The android hummed, nodding. “Yes. It wasn’t a constant stream, but I remember hearing some things…” he paused suddenly, stammering a little. You could have sworn his cheeks tinted pink. “In particular… I really liked your singing.”

Heat washed over your face at once, embarrassment making you want to shrivel and die. Oh, you’d forgotten you’d done that while you worked.

“...Thank you,” you managed to squeeze out amongst your urge to throw yourself from the nearest building. The android smiled, and your head tilted as you voiced your previous thoughts, “Why did you ask about being called JK? Do you not like it? If not, I can stop.”

“No!” the android burst, barely a moment after the words left your mouth. He looked alarmed, eyes wide and LED flaring yellow. “I- I like it... I’ve not… had a name before. Please, do not feel as though you have to stop.”

You couldn’t help the sad smile that tugged your lips, “That’s sweet of you,” you said, watching his LED shift from yellow to sunset pink at the barest hint of praise you offered. “But it’s still a bit awkward for your first ever name… how about we compromise.”

JK tilted his head, curious as to what you were going to propose. You reached for your tablet, turning in your chair slightly; you could have sworn you felt his gaze burning along your waist, but dismissed it as paranoia. Returning to a normal sitting position, you beckoned the android closer and he was eager to comply with your wishes.

Your fingers tapped quickly across the thin, crystal clear display, and soon the page you desired was up before your eyes. You watched as the male’s gaze swept across the screen before darting to you, surprise filtering across his features.

“... Names?” he appeared as though he was trying to fight the smile tugging his lips, but it was a losing battle. His bunny teeth sank into the soft, plush skin of his bottom lip. “You are giving me a real name?”

You nodded, unable to help your own smile as he beamed in response. “Yep, but you can choose your own— choose whichever you like! I think since we started with JK, names starting with J will suit you.”

JK’s cheeks appeared to colour, his eyes eagerly finding their way back to the screen, rings soft lime. It took him only a moment to scan through the list you’d pulled up, hand lifting as he pointed to a section. “I like these.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, looking over the ones he’d chosen. The fact he’d pointed out more than one meant he probably wanted you to have at least some say in his name, and the thought warmed your heart thoroughly. “Oh, I think those would really suit you. I think… Jungkook? Oh, wait, actually I think the other version would suit you better…”

The android was looking at you with wide eyes as you turned to him, analysing his appearance for a moment before smiling. “Yeah, I think Jeongguk suits you better. What do you think?”

“I love it,” he beamed, and it was as though you could feel the warmth, the elation, just from looking at it. “Thank you, mistress.”

You squeaked, cheeks flushing hotly as you bopped his arm gently. “J— I told you to call me y/n!”

The android laughed, stepping back and resuming his previous position peering over your shoulder. The barest hint of mischief gleamed in eyes that flickered between lilac and pink, and it was with flushed cheeks and a flustered disposition that you returned to your current project. He was awfully cheeky for a machine.

Your mother would have loved him.

x     x     x     x     x    x     x     x   x

Jeongguk was more helpful and eager to please than you knew how to handle.

As he’d done ever since he’d awoken from his place laid across your workbench, he continued helping out however he could. Your laundry, your dishes— hell, sometimes he even manned the shop while you were gone. He was good with his hands, and you might have called him a natural tinkerer were he not an android and engineered to be perfect at human activities. You didn’t want him to feel obligated to do these things— it made you uncomfortable to think he was doing it because it was learnt, or because he thought you’d expected it. He’d assured you many times, though, that he did it because he wanted to; he enjoyed doing things for you.

You felt silly, but with each little favour he did for you and each small smile he shot your way, you grew a little fonder of him. More than once you’d come downstairs to find he’d already gone ahead and made you breakfast and a coffee— more than once you’d sworn to yourself you could have planted a big, fat kiss on his cheek out of sheer gratitude alone. You didn’t know how to articulate let alone process the feeling you got from having someone around like this, having someone look after you. You had friends, but no family you were still in contact with, and the friends you did have had lives of their own. It had been almost a month since you’d even seen Seokjin, despite your more frequent correspondence via instant messaging. Ever since your mother had passed, and you’d been left to your own devices with a shop to run and a small home to occupy, there had been a silently harrowing sense of loneliness that threatened to creep into your heart each time you lay your head onto your pillow and closed your eyes. In the silence and emptiness of your home, it was very easy to lose yourself to that feeling when it came knocking.

But with Jeongguk here with you, things were… surprisingly different. It was the good kind of surprise, the pleasant kind of surprise, and you thought that it was probably part of why you liked him so much. As days passed and time went on, you realised that you really did like him; you’d grown fond of him, attached, and not to the idea of him as a project, but as a person.

“You’re so helpful, Jeongguk,” you smiled, cheek resting on your palm; you made sure to address him by his new name whenever you could, because the resulting ecstatic smile that broke across his face was a sight you never wanted to miss. You were in the kitchen, watching as the android carried your drink to the table as he’d insisted vehemently he do. “Are you sure you weren’t a butler before I found you?”

A bright grin had split his face and your heart had stuttered in your chest— you could have sworn he had blushed. Were it not for the glowing pink ring around his iris, you might have forgotten he was an artificial being altogether.  Jeongguk had laughed softly, and simply reminded you to message one of your customers about their order like you’d told him to.

You hurriedly dove into your phone, thumb flicking screens away until you reached the right one— the archive of all your messages. Your fingers were a little too fast for your brain and overstepped, leading you to land in your chat with Seokjin instead of the customer, and in your scramble to escape you ended up jumping to a point in the chat from months back.

‘—I can’t wait for you to see my project! He’s the only one of his kind that will ever exist, and I really think I’ve cracked it this time y/n—’

You blinked, thumb having automatically clicked you out of the chat before you could continue reading. You’d completely forgotten about the conversations you used to have about Seokjin’s big project— you wondered whatever came of it. Seokjin just suddenly stopped talking about it. It was around the same time as a particularly stressful period for your shop, and you regretted that you weren’t there more for him to ask what had happened.

Bringing your thoughts back to the present, you opened the right chatroom this time and messaged the customer as you meant to. You were glad Jeongguk had remembered, because you’d certainly forgotten.

Sadly, Jeongguk’s memory centres still hadn’t recovered and he was only able to remember things from after when you found him, and he woke up. His other systems were performing closer to normal, but his memories… had been the most affected by the damage. He still had no recollection of what he’d been doing before he ended up in the alley, who his owner was or even what he was designed to do. Hearing the same negative response each time you asked him made your heart hurt, but at the same time you were kind of relieved; whatever had happened before you found him clearly hadn’t been good, and you didn’t doubt it wouldn’t be something fun to remember. Perhaps, for now, he was better off in the dark.

Having said that, you did notice some… quirks, in his behaviour, that had begun to make themselves known more as time went on.

The first had become apparent not long after Jeongguk had received his name. In the time after that incident, you’d witnessed the android become even clingier, if possible. He was always by your side before, but now as he walked with you to complete errands and even in your home, his hands would reach to brush against your arm, your waist. He stood very close, always with a contented look like he couldn’t be happier if he tried, your presence alone enough to soothe him.

Even if Jeongguk hadn’t already appeared and acted as human as he did, you would have ended up treating him as a human out of habit nonetheless. Which was why you found yourself nestled into the corner of the couch, Jeongguk occupying the other, preparing to settle down for a long, long movie marathon with the Marvel superhero series. They were old, and you recalled that they were onto their — was it their 47th instalment, these days? The first of the movies had been made decades ago, and many didn’t watch them— they preferred the spiffy, more technologically advanced remakes— but you’d always enjoyed the classic films from a time before yours.

You’d sat down with the intention of introducing Jeongguk to the series, figuring that if he was an android that could feel emotions then he’d likely end up enjoying movies more than the average robot. You started with the chronological order of release date, and went from there; Jeongguk started on the other end of the couch, and then throughout movie after movie he had gradually shuffled close enough that he was curled comfortably into your side. Android’s couldn’t feel the cold the way humans could, but they could shiver, and the hue of their skin could alter. It was something included in their design for a more realistic effect, and despite the fact you knew this, you’d still draped the blanket over the both of you and allowed him to snuggle closer.

Analysis of Jeongguk’s systems, make and model told you that he had advanced, detailed sensors across the expanse of his body— so when you lifted your hand to begin carding your fingers through his silken hair and scratching lightly against his scalp, you knew the soft, pleased sigh he let out was genuine. You could feel yourself melting against him, heart fluttering out of nothing but sheer, light happiness as each time Iron Man came onto the screen, Jeongguk let out a soft noise to cheer. He had a favourite, clearly.

Sometime throughout the next few movies, which you’d had brief breaks between, Jeongguk’s head had migrated from your shoulder to your lap, and you’d continued running your hands through his hair. It felt nice against your skin, so it was a win-win you supposed. The movie you were on, one of the ones where the characters from their individual franchises began to overlap, drew to a close and as the credits began to roll you were unable to hold back a yawn.

Jeongguk’s gaze was on you immediately, LED rings running soft lavender as he gazed at you with dark eyes through his lashes; the look paralysed you for a moment, hand freezing in his hair.

“Are you ready for bed, y/n?” he queried, and your heart nearly stopped in your chest. His voice was low, a much lower register than you were used to, and had just enough huskiness that a flush washed over the back of your neck. You didn’t doubt that he was picking it up as your heart rate accelerated, thoughts racing through the gutter as his deeper voice altered how you’d received his innocent question.

“I— yes,” you gulped, knowing you couldn’t hide the way your body betrayed you from a being that had sensors built into his form. You smiled at him, still fighting tiredness. “Are you going to keep watching, or do you want me to go set up the charging dock, Kookie?”

The android jolted at the nickname you’d tacked on without a second thought, eyes blowing wide and every trace of the sultry expression he’d worn before blasted from his features. Colour flushed to his cheeks, an emulation of a bodily function that resulted from embarrassment, or fluster— which was he feeling, you wondered?

“K-Kookie?” he stuttered, curling unconsciously into your lap as his large doe eyes bore into your own.

“Yeah, Kookie,” you repeated, enjoying the way he seemed to vibrate with excitement in your lap as the word left your mouth. “A nickname… I was tired and too lazy to say your full name, sorry.”

“Nickname?” he echoed, murmuring softly. “Kookie… I like it. Thank you, y/n.”

You’d beamed at him. “No problem, Kookie. Now, are you gonna watch or…?”

The android definitely seemed flustered as he pulled himself from your lap and nestled back into the couch and blanket, shooting you a sheepish smile. “I would like to keep watching, if that is okay, y/n.”

Your smile was soft as it tugged your lips and you stood, ruffling his hair. “Of course it’s okay. Have fun, Kookie.”

The sight of his cheeks coloured pink at your words was almost enough to counter the memory of his voice and the look he’d sent you earlier.

Almost.

After that day, you’d noticed more occasions where the android would turn and as his eyes fell upon you, he would pin you with that very same look and low tone. Whether he knew he was doing it or not, you didn’t know, but it was absolutely lethal. At this point, you feared for your health.

The other thing that had become most apparent, was the way his eyes were drawn to your form. He was an android, you knew there wasn’t really anything to the way his eyes lingered or the LED around his irises flared bright rose upon seeing you, but sometimes… Sometimes you could swear you could feel the heat his gaze left on your skin, you could swear the weight of it had you trembling with an emotion you dared not investigate.

The occasion that this was most prominent, had occurred not entirely too long after the previous. There was a fine boundary that was maintained between the two of you, a line you didn’t often end up toeing. You were the only one in the house that needed to do things like change, and bathe, which meant the likely incidence of awkward encounters that often came as a result of living with someone in such close quarters was much less. Not long after that day on the couch, however, the first of such incidents occurred.

It was morning, and you’d already woken up to a grinning Jeongguk and a particularly delicious smelling breakfast of bacon and French toast. With a full day of manning the shop and tinkering at the counter ahead of you, you were quick to scarf the meal down and dash for the shower.

This… was where the problem lay.

Your house wasn’t entirely critter-proof, and while you weren’t the kind of person to scream about a little bug or a spider, or even a snake, you did still have your limits.

And the large, inky spider that honest to god looked like it spanned half the length of your fogged-up bathroom mirror as you stepped out of the shower, naked and oblivious, was crossing them.

It was only as you reached for your towel, hand grasping the fuzzy material, that you saw it. You didn’t even realise you’d opened your mouth to let out a loud, incredibly alarmed noise that sounded a cross between a scream and an undignified yelp until it reached your own ears and you were stumbling back. You attempted to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, scrabbling to wrap the towel so it guarded your bits from the gargantuan arachnid spawned straight from the ickiest pits of hell. You considered hopping into the bathtub before realising that was stupid and would only end up with you cornering yourself— you couldn’t afford to give the demon such power.

“Oh hell, oH HELL, OH— NO, DON’T, GO AWAY!” your alarmed babbling escalated to a frantic yelp as the spider shifted slightly and you nearly slipped in the water that had spilt from your exit of the shower.

In your consuming fright you’d completely forgotten about your current housemate until there was thudding footsteps down the hall the door to the bathroom burst open. Jeongguk’s gaze was frantic as he searched for you, LED a bright red that flickered to cool green the moment his eyes fell upon your trembling form. It was the second you felt his gaze grace you that he froze suddenly, body halting as he stared with wide eyes. You, caught in the building intensity of his stare, the heat that began to flush over your arms and down your back, didn’t remember until moments later that you were currently standing, dripping wet and clad in nothing but a dodgily wrapped towel before him. You squeaked.

“Spider,” you barely managed to articulate the word, let alone point, but it was enough to tear Jeongguk from whatever trance the sight of you had thrown him into. His gaze followed the direction of your finger and he almost did a double-take at the sight of the massive arachnid.

“Woah,” his expression was one of wonderment despite the lingering blush in his cheeks. His gaze flew back to you for a moment, your current state of undress cast from his mind. “y/n, look how big that spider is!”

“Yes, I’m looking,” you said, pressing yourself back further against the wall— the fine-furred fiend looked like it was eyeing you off and preparing to jump at any second. “I’m looking and I do not like what I’m seeing.”

Jeongguk seemed slightly amused if somewhat perplexed at your words, but it didn’t take him long to connect your fear to the intruder in the room. “Ah… I can remove it, if you’d like?”

You were nodding frantically before he’d even finished talking. “Yes! Please do, please.”

Jeongguk’s lips tugged into the barest hint of a smile, before he was quickly and carefully doing as requested. In a matter of moments he’d securely grasped the spider, its frantically wriggling legs making you squeak in alarm, and he was quickly exiting the room, presumably to deposit the hellish creature outside your house.

“Make sure you don’t leave it near the house!” you called as an afterthought, wondering how exactly it had gotten inside in the first place. You heard a light laugh before his footsteps faded and you were left standing alone, suddenly aware once more of the water dripping down your form and the short towel around your middle. With cheeks that scorched at the memory of his heated gaze, you hurried from the bathroom and into your room to get dressed. Even once you were fully clothed and brushing through your hair, you couldn’t chase away the phantom touch of his gaze across your form. Had you ever felt such a way from a look alone before?

You honestly didn’t think so, and that scared you a little. He’d been in your life only a few months, for most of which he was comatose, and already he’d rendered you to this? Jeongguk, perhaps the sweetest android you’d ever known, was truly dangerous.

And if the way his gaze continued to linger occasionally, and his touch against your form grew more frequent after that day meant anything, you weren’t sure if he knew he was either.

x     x     x     x     x     x     x     x

This was perhaps the first time you’d left the house without Jeongguk in tow, and the outing had ended with you here— at the bar, three of your four close friends already gone with arguably the closest and incidentally most plastered left to your care.

Seokjin liked to drink, and he wasn’t all that messy of a drunk, but he was prone to his… off days, if you would. These were the days where instead of making him extra boisterous and extroverted as it usually did, the alcohol happened to exacerbate whatever doom and gloom was running through the back of his mind at the time. This happened to be one of those days.

You were a little tipsy yourself, but nowhere near as far gone as Seokjin currently was. It was with a sense of struggle that you hauled the two of you from the bar, arm around his waist so he didn’t fall and seriously harm himself.

“Come on, Seokjinnie,” you urged softly, amused at the loud, protesting groan the scientist let out in response. “We gotta get you a cab.”

“Don’t wanna,” he babbled, still grasping you tightly and following you haphazardly nonetheless. He allowed his head to roll and rest on your own. “Did I fin-ugh- finish my drink? Ugh, y/n I think I left my drink on the table—”

“You definitely left something on the table, but it wasn’t your drink,” you muttered. “I think it was your dignity.”

Seokjin let out a loud whine that was broken with a soft hiccup— his whole body jolted and his foot caught on a break in the pavement, the resulting trip nearly taking you both down. “I can’t believe you’re being so mean when I’m absolutely plastered like this. I’m vulnerable, a-and you— you’re uh… you’re doing something.”

You turned to see his brows were furrowed, before his face shifted and he burst triumphantly, having found the words he was looking for, “You’re b-bullying me, you b-b-buh-ass. You ass,” He paused. “You know, I have a nice ass.”

You snorted as you pulled your phone out and went about ordering an uber, trying not to burst into laughter at his drunken antics because you knew it would just set him off into a louder, more vehement set of complaints. “You do. Have you thought about modelling? I think it could get you some cash.”

“My face could get me some cash,” Seokjin muttered, seeming like he was seriously considering it for a moment before he shook his head violently; the blond strands of his hair nearly took out your eye in the process. “No! I’m a committed, I’m scientist to my work—”

“Wait,” He halted abruptly before you could even tease him for his slip, his ability to self-regulate kicking back in. “I’m a scientist, I’m committed to my work. Yes, that’s what I was aim— trying— that’s what I was going for.”

Even through the mist settled comfortably over your mind, his words triggered a sense of familiarity in you. Your thoughts went back to the old text message you’d stumbled upon the other day, and in your tipsy state you were unable to engage your filter in time— you blurted the question before you could give it a second thought, “Seokjin, what happened to that big project of yours? You know, the one you were really excited about?”

The blonde had been smiling at his little victory from before, but as your question registered in his mind the expression dropped from his face. In a violent swing of moods, his body seemed to deflate against you, bottom lip quivering. “Ah, my big project…”

He was silent a moment, gazing off into nothing, and you worried; perhaps you’d struck a nerve? Maybe you really shouldn’t have asked—

Seokjin’s body gave a heavy, shuddering breath, tongue darting to wet his lips before he spoke, tone soft and carrying a thread of sadness you didn’t think you’d ever heard from him, “They took it… My big project. I- god, y/n… they took him.”

Your head tilted, confusion blurring your thoughts too much for you to have a response ready. Perhaps thankfully, it was at that moment the uber pulled up— a hovercraft, it would seem to be today— and you busied yourself momentarily with getting your drunken friend in the back of the vehicle. Soon the two of you were safely inside, and the driver left you in peace as he began on the route to Seokjin’s home— well, the car began. He was just there to monitor.

You turned your gaze to the male in question, noticing his eyes had glazed slightly, a distant expression gracing his fine features once more. You were burning with curiosity inside, something nagging you to ask, to find out more. You knew Seokjin worked in the AI and android facilities, but for some reason you’d never heard the end of this tale. Now that you’d remembered, you couldn’t shake it from your thoughts. The sound of your voice seemed to break him from his daze.

“What do you mean, they took him?” you queried softly, hand finding his knee when he swayed in his seat slightly.

To your utter surprise, Seokjin’s eyes began to glisten with unshed tears, large chocolate orbs meeting your own and holding your gaze.

“He was the best thing I’ll ever make, y/n,” he said, hiccupping softly. He let out a faint groan, allowing his eyelids to flutter closed. Your heart twinged as you watched his features twist, a single tear tracing down his cheek while his voice grew thick and caught in his throat. “He... I really… I really did it this time, y/n. He… he was beyond a-anything I’d ever even thought I would be able to create. He was the first project I ever got full reign of.”

There was a pause as he swallowed, dark brows furrowing as he allowed his head to drop back against the headrest; the flickering glow of city buildings and signs as they blurred past cast a myriad of blue, fuchsia and violet over the tired planes of his face. His voice came out fainter this time, but there was a heat behind his words, an anger so intimately intertwined with sadness that you didn’t know how to go about untangling it.

“I worked so hard, and he… he exceeded all of my expectations. He had such potential,” Seokjin’s breath shuddered. “And they took him. He— he deserved so much better, deserves better than a life of servitude, degradation and humiliation… but they still took him from me.”

Any words you could have hoped to muster had long since died in your throat, your own eyes glistening at the pain in his tone. Something niggled at the back of your mind, something threatened to click in your subconscious, and even though you didn’t understand it, you found yourself asking, “What was his name? His model number?”

Seokjin sighed softly, drawing a hand up to scrub over his face; he was reaching the stage of the night where he shifted from silly/saddened drunk to exhaustion. It wouldn’t be long now before sleep welcomed him with open arms.

“I never got to give him a name,” he said, and it was as though the words saddened him even more as they left his mouth. “But his model number…”

The uber began to slow suddenly, and belatedly you realised you’d arrived at Seokjin’s apartment. You thanked the driver, climbing out of the vehicle and pulling a drowsy Seokjin out after you. Your ride was quick to pull from the curb, disappearing into the city lights from whence it came, and you stumbled towards the blonde’s apartment building with him in tow, arm draped over your shoulder.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Seokjin was mumbling to himself as you gradually made your way to his floor, nearly sweating from the effort of keeping him upright alone. “His model number… do I know?”

It was with great effort you managed to unlock his door and drag him into the apartment, depositing him on his couch while you went to retrieve a glass of water; you had to weave around metal parts that poked haphazardly from tables and benches as you went. When you returned with glass in hand, Seokjin had taken to discarding his shoes and socks and had loosened the collar of the button-up around his neck.

“I don’t remember…” Seokjin looked ready to cry again, and you hurried to pass him the water— he accepted with a soft ‘thanks’.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember,” you soothed him softly, hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“No, it’s not,” Seokjin nearly dropped the glass on its descent from his mouth and you took this as your cue to remove the breakable item from his vicinity. “It’s not okay, he- he deserves better. He deserves name, he deserves to be remembered.”

“I’m sure he does,” you murmured as you urged him to his feet and guided him down the hall to his bedroom. Seokjin was silent, blinking drowsily as he slipped into his bed at your gentle urging, nestling subconsciously into the covers.

He could hardly keep his eyes open, but when they finally closed another tear slipped from beneath his lashes to roll down his cheek. His voice was soft. “If… If I had known… where he would go, what kind of life he would be destined for… I would never… never have made him this way… He deserves better…”

You waited a few moments more to see if he would continue, but upon the sound of a soft snore already escaping him, you surmised he was well and truly gone for the night. Shaking your head lightly, you made sure he was tucked in and comfortable before grasping the extra blanket from the end of his bed and making your way to the loungeroom; you were quite tired yourself, and the couch was seeming more and more appealing the longer you were awake.

Even with the muddling effects of the alcohol, your mind was still racing, albeit tiredly, as you settled on the couch and wrapped yourself in the blanket. Seokjin’s words, his tears and the distinct undertone of guilt in his tone as he’d spoken those last words all ran through your head one last time before your heavy eyelids were dropping closed, and you succumbed to sleep. When you woke in the morning, would you remember all that you’d learnt tonight?

→ masterlist | part ii

[haberdashing]

don’t look back now that we’re here

Pokemon world fic featuring one of my OCs.

Eden, a teenage runaway from Slateport newly arrived in the city of Uberrime, struggles to find her bearings in the big city and begins to wonder whether she should have left home in the first place.

Written as part of @badthingshappenbingo​ for the trope “Not Used To Freedom”; my current bingo card will be posted at the end of the fic, below the cut.

also on AO3

It had all seemed like so much fun at first, when Eden had arrived in Uberrime, all on her own save for Pascal and Maximus (who she could claim were named after philosophers and emperors if pressed to come up with fancy justifications that her parents or people like them would approve of, but honestly, they were named after Disney sidekicks, names befitting the Disney princess that she liked to imagine herself as) by her side. A whole city to explore, all on her own, with no curfew, no chaperone, no monitoring devices, nothing but her imagination to limit her travel... ...but that had been some hours ago, before the sun had started to set.

Exploring a huge city on her own was all well and good in theory, but in practice... Eden was beginning to realize that she knew a lot less about Uberrime than she thought she had known. Sure, she could come up with solid guesses about the town's population as of the last census or its most common exports or what famous tourist attractions it has or other things that got listed in almanacs and textbooks, but actually navigating the place? On foot no less, lugging around a heavy suitcase and two rambunctious Pokemon all the while? She was pretty close to clueless.

(One could easily argue that Eden didn't need to have both Pascal and Maximus out at all times, didn't need to spend the energy and effort it took to wrangle them as she walked from street to street. It would make sense, sure. But Pascal and Maximus were the ones who had inspired this trip in the first place--or, at least, had gotten her to turn vague ideas of leaving home and heading out on an adventure of her own into an actual plan that she could implement--and she wasn't going to imprison them in their Poke Balls the first chance she got. She wanted them to be free now, too, just as free as she now was. Plus, they'd spent a while cooped up in their Poke Balls on the ride over, as she'd hidden them away for fear that the two of them could be too obvious a tip-off as to her actual identity. They deserved a little time to stretch their legs... though that wasn't the best maxim in Pascal's case, she supposed... but still. They deserved some time out in the open. The last thing Eden wanted was to be cruel.)

Eden had managed to find a place to eat while meandering the streets of Uberrime, luckily, but she had no idea whether the price she had paid for a decent meal was fair or not. Dealing with money had never been her business before. Her parents had always been the ones to handle that... no, that wasn't quite right. Her parents' assistants had always been the ones to handle that. But the point remained. The most Eden had ever done was window shop at the Slateport Market every so often, when she'd been able to talk her parents into it (with a clear schedule and monitoring devices to make sure she didn't deviate too severely from it), and she wasn't sure if the prices there were normal for Hoenn, or perhaps bumped up a bit due to it being a bit of a tourist trap, let alone how prices in Hoenn would compare to prices in Ho'ohiki... It didn't seem like they were ripping her off, but how could she know?

And now it was dark out, with only a few dim rays of sun peeking out from the few spots where it could be seen between all the buildings, and it was starting to get cold, and... Eden didn't know where she was going to go, how she was going to spend the night. A hotel would make sense, she knew, or some variation thereof (like a motel, or a hostel... despite what her business suit might make it appear, she didn't much care if it was fancy), but she didn't know where any were in Uberrime. And there, too, she was worried that she'd get ripped off, that strangers would take advantage of her lack of knowledge and charge her way more than they should for a place to stay. She had no idea what hotels usually cost! And while she'd taken a good chunk of money with her when she'd left home, that's all she had to live off of for the foreseeable future...

Honestly, though, as Eden kept meandering through the streets of Uberrime, hoping to find a hotel to no avail, she stopped caring so much about the price and started thinking that she'd pay anything to find a safe place to get some rest.

In the back of her mind, Eden was starting to wonder if she should have just stayed at home. Back at home, it had seemed horrible to be stuck inside the building for the indeterminate future, pacing back and forth through the same few rooms and reading the same few books and going through the same few actions day after day, with no clear future in sight, no obvious purpose for all this "schooling" that her parents insisted upon her having rather than letting her go out on a Pokemon adventure like other kids her age (or several years younger, at this point) often did... ...but now that home was nowhere in sight, far across the ocean, she missed her room, her bed, how she was always warm and safe and comfortable (physically, at least) there. Even if it all seemed boring and pointless, was that really so bad?

Her feet never ached like this back at home, where she rarely got the opportunity to go further than the far reaches of her parents' mansion. She never shivered like this back at home, where the thermostat was one of the few things Eden did have control over--when her parents weren't home to override her use of it, anyway, and that was the case more often than not--and worst case, she could always burrow into her bed and be soft and warm under a nest of blankets and stuffed Pokemon. (Eden hadn't brought a single stuffed Pokemon with her, worrying that doing so would seem childish and thinking that it was unnecessary when she had the real thing by her side, but now... now she missed every single one of them.)

And Eden worried about being cruel to Pascal and Maximus by not letting them out of their Poke Balls, but exposing them to the cold and forcing them to go block after block after endless block in search of a hotel that they might never find... in a way, Eden supposed that might be being cruel to them, too. Her parents had said they'd let her keep them, after all. That had been their one concession to her, when she'd come to them with dreams of adventure and freedom and exploration. They could be by her side back at home, too, safe and warm... and trapped, like she was, she supposed, but... what was the lesser evil here?

What was she doing? She was wandering through the streets of a strange city, with no idea what she was going to do besides hoping to find a hotel for the night (and what if she didn't, what if she had to sleep on one of those cold dirty benches outside all night?), dragging two innocent Pokemon along with her, all for the sake of some vague dream of having a life that meant more than it did being cooped up at home? Why did she even bother?

And what if something even worse happened to her? What if she was wandering into the bad part of town without even knowing it? What if someone found her out on the streets of Uberrime in the middle of the night and killed her just because they could? Or she froze to death out on one of those city benches? Or she got some kind of nasty superbug and got so sick that she'd die before she could make it to a hospital? Would anyone ever find out? Would her parents ever know what had happened to her?

All these fears and more were probably running through their minds right now, too, come to think of it. Eden's parents were probably worried sick about her. She'd never seen them worried before--annoyed or frustrated or disappointed, yes, but never worried--but now she tried to imagine it, tried to picture what her parents would look like worrying about her. It wasn't a pretty picture, that much was for sure.

But what would happen if she went home now, really? Eden doubted her parents would let her keep Pascal and Maximus after running away with them, and she didn't want to lose them; even if she was still getting to know them, she valued their companionship, valued having them by her side even when it took some work to keep them there. She'd probably lose those rare trips to the Slateport Market, too. Bars over her bedroom window, maybe, since that's how she had escaped before. Every little bit of freedom taken from her, just to make sure that she wouldn't pull the same stunt again... Was losing all that freedom really worth the comforts of home?

Eden saw the word "Hotel" glowing in the distance, and she sped up as best she could with her suitcase and her Pokemon in tow, though at this point she was half-expecting it to be her imagination or another kind of false alarm... ...but no, as she approached, it became clear that somehow, she really had managed to stumble upon a hotel. One that looked a little shabbier than the ones her family would stay on during their (very rare) family vacations, admittedly, but it would certainly do in a pinch.

As Eden walked into the hotel lobby, she was still weighing her options in her mind, weighing the price of freedom versus convenience. It was a difficult decision, to be sure, and one that could change her life for good... ...which is one reason Eden was very glad to get out of the cold and the wind and the dark and collapse on one of the plush chairs in the hotel lobby as she thought. Difficult decisions like this one were best made when one could focus on thinking rather than on petty inconveniences, after all.

After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, Eden got up from her plush seat and walked over to the front desk of the hotel, her mind made up for good. The obstacle of actually speaking with the hotel's front desk employee, however, still remained. Eden didn't really know how to people. She'd never really gotten the chance. Oh, she'd interacted with servants and tutors and very occasionally her parents, but that was different. This was a stranger, in a strange place, with a dynamic in place that wasn't one Eden had ever had to deal with before. As such, it took a minute for Eden to gather the courage to actually say what she had decided to say.

For a moment, Eden considered what would happen if she just told the hotel employee the truth. If she said that her name was Elizabeth Theodora Lancaster (even if that name had never seemed to fit quite right), if she said that she had ran away from home back in Hoenn, if she said that people were looking for her (people had to be looking for her) and that her parents were worried about her (her parents had to be worried about her) and that she needed to go home right now.

If Eden did that, she could go home, reunite with her parents, have her life go more or less back to normal (or normal for her, anyway), lose the burdens and responsibilities that came with freedom and go back to living in the lap of luxury, albeit behind lock and key. It would be so easy. But... no, that wasn't right. Eden knew there had to be more to life than being stuck inside a mansion for years on end, and she wasn't going to stop before she'd had her fill of adventure, no matter how many minor inconveniences she had to face along the way.

So instead, Eden told the front desk employee, with a smile on her face (that wasn't entirely genuine, but she'd learned the art of the polite smile long ago), "My name is Eden Quinn, and I'd like a room for the night, please." She'd read in stories how people seemed to adapt easily enough to using false names, but hadn't been sure how much to believe it. But now, Eden embraced the name that she had only come up with a few days beforehand. Not only had she already adapted to using it, it felt right, somehow, in a way that the name Elizabeth Theodora Lancaster never quite had. It felt natural. It felt comfortable.

And as the conversation continued, as the front desk employee began to discuss the different kinds of rooms available that night and how much each one would cost, as Pascal and Maximus noisily played in the background as they enjoyed all the amenities that the hotel lobby had to offer, as Eden thought of how the future was hers and hers alone now, slowly but surely, the smile on Eden's face grew more and more real.

[nightingaelic]

NV companions reactions to taking the courier’s place in OWB

"Here and now got its ups and downs, but... focusing on the past, like it was any better? That's just Old World Blues." -Blind Diode Jefferson

Arcade Gannon: Being whisked off to a pre-war scientific research haven and adopted by a group of five floating brains in jars was actually a dream Arcade had once, but he was pretty sure it didn't involve losing his own brain along the way. Conversation with the Think Tank would leave him amused at first, but increasingly more horrified as he learned the secrets of Big MT and realized just how much chaos they could create if they weren't busy playing in their Mojave sandbox. The most intriguing part of Big MT for Arcade would, of course, be the Sink. The Biological research station, the light switches, the Sink Central Intelligence Unit and all the others would fascinate him, and he would do his best to figure out their components and try to replicate them in New Vegas for the Followers of the Apocalypse to use. This leads to more than a few circular conversations with Doctor Klein and, once he meets him, Doctor Mobius. I think Mobius' side of the story would leave Arcade depressed about the state of Big MT and the various things roaming its landscape that used to be people. His argument with his own brain, on the other hand, would be worthy of any pre-war sitcom. Though sorely tempted to destroy the Think Tank for good and prevent their wild experimentation ever escaping the crater, I think Arcade would weight the potential good their technology could do much more heavily and convince Doctor Klein to partner with him as a new head researcher.

Craig Boone: Given Boone's hatred for the Legion and their enslavement practices, the Think Tank would seal their doom as soon as they stripped him of his brain and his ability to fight back. And once he found Little Yangtze and its total pacification collars? Oh, it's on. I don't think Boone would be sly about his anger either, but given the Think Tank's flippant attitude toward their lobotomites, they probably wouldn't pick up on just how furious he was until it was too late. There are two things Boone would form attachments to while sneaking around Big MT: Roxie, the ever-loyal cyberdog with a heart of gold, and the Stealth Suit Mk II, which compliments Boone's combat style with minimal commentary. While I don't think Boone would have any strong feelings either way toward Doctor Mobius, I don't think he would kill him unless he had to. Mobius would probably be tickled by his stoic countenance, and would attempt to shower him in Mentats as a way of loosening up. Boone's brain would be a bit like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, reveling in its own sadness for once because Boone always shoved those feelings out of sight and out of mind. Their main argument would be over a compromise to confront that deep sorrow once reunited. When the Think Tank is dead, Boone zaps Roxie and himself back to Nipton, then smashes the Big Mountain Transportalponder! on the nearest rock.

Lily Bowen: I think we could class Lily's reaction to being kidnapped and experimented upon by the Think Tank as utter confusion. She would still be as benevolent as ever, trying her best to soothe the over-inflated egos of the various doctors as they debated what to do with this creature that had thoroughly stumped the Auto-Doc upon recovery, but I think she would start looking for the exit as soon as they suggested a full dissection. Lily's experience in Big MT would be very different from the other companions after that, with the Think Tank sending wave after wave of lobotomites and night stalkers after her in an attempt to regain their new test subject, and Lily beating each attack back with her trusty vertibird blade and the growing pile of new gadgets she accumulated with every location visited. I think Doctor Mobius would watch this play out with interest, and would send a few packs of robo-scorpions to herd her toward the radar fence, then surreptitiously lower the barrier long enough for her to stumble outside. The story of her time in "the Big Empty" would become a fireside hit in Jacobstown, but few would believe that she had actually found the place where all cazadores and night stalkers come from.

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul is already missing a few body parts, so what's one more? The old ghoul would be somewhat exasperated at finding himself in another situation of imprisonment and being forced to do work for others, but at least it's not as boring as Black Mountain. Big MT, on the other hand, is a heck of a lot more deadly than the State of Utobitha, but all Raul can do is roll his eyes every time he spots another band of lobotomites chasing him down or robo-scorpions crawling over the horizon. Like Boone, Raul grows fond of Roxie, though his favorite acquisition from Big MT's tech piles would definitely be the proton axe: He just likes the way it looks and feels when he's swinging it around. Confronting Doctor Mobius would come when the old ghoul is reaching the end of his patience with the Think Tank, though he would spare the mad scientist some time to listen to his sad story and ponder the fate of Big MT. I think Raul would be the one most in tune with his disembodied brain, and they would greet each other as old friends that share a rocky history, but have accepted each other's flaws. As for the Think Tank, Raul would leave the decision of what to do with them up to Doctor Mobius: After all, they're not his mess to clean up.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Oh boy. Cass is no one's errand girl, but she's also rather fond of her brain, pickled in liquor though it may be. She would blaze a deadly trail through Big MT, marked by the wrecked bodies of robo-scorpions and Y-17 trauma override harnesses (a personal scourge for the former caravan owner, maybe her teams wouldn't have been killed if she'd just had some goddamned walking suits to do the job) and the never-ending stream of curse words floating on the crater's breeze. The lobotomites would quickly learn to stay out of her way, and every new acquisition for the Think Tank would be tossed unceremoniously on the floor of the sanctum with a clatter. Doctor Dala loves the caravaner, but the others all hate her, and Cass can't help but find the feeling mutual. Doctor Mobius would not be able to sway her from high-tailing it out of Big MT as soon as possible, and like Raul, she would not see the Think Tank's containment as her responsibility. Her brain, on the other hand, would berate her for her internalized guilt and bully her into doing the right thing - which, in her case, is eliminating the Think Tank's threat once and for all.

Veronica Santangelo: The main challenge for the doctors of the Think Tank upon capturing Veronica would be prying her away from their sanctum long enough to set her on the path to retrieving tech for them. Like Arcade, Veronica would be fascinated by the Sink and everything in it, but she would be equally fascinated with the scientists themselves and their varied personalities. She would prod Doctor Klein for details about his work, decode Doctor 8's speech patterns, and roll her tongue around in her mouth for Doctor Dala's recording equipment. Getting her brain back would take a backseat to just wandering Big MT, taking in the crazy inventions from a world long gone and wondering which ones she could bring home to Elder McNamara to show him how remaining set in his ways has put the Brotherhood of Steel on a path to irrelevance. This desire would stay her hand after meeting Doctor Mobius, and would lead her to convince the Think Tank to abandon their escape attempts and return to testing silly hypotheses. Her most important discovery would be the clues left behind by Father Elijah, well on his way to becoming a mad scientist himself, and Christine, hot on his trail for the Brotherhood of Steel. All in all, the experience would leave Veronica hungry for more adventure and send her sprinting toward the Sierra Madre and an uncertain fate.

ED-E: As a robot, the Think Tank would be disappointed with the little intruder and would likely argue about whether to toss it in the scrap pile. Doctor 0 would be absolutely disgusted by the intrusion of Robert House's technology into Big MT, but Doctor Dala would become attached to the eyebot and adopt it, cooing about the elegance of its design while simultaneously bemoaning its lack of biorhythms. ED-E, confused, would humor her for a while before striking out to explore the crater and its many wonders. After its first run-in with lobotomites, the eyebot would flee in fear, straight past the X-42 giant robo-scorpion and into the clutches of Doctor Mobius. The self-proclaimed villain would take pity on the robot and release it outside the radar fence with an escort of robo-scorpions to take home.

Rex: Cyberdogs are a well-known quantity at Big MT, so the new arrival from outside the radar fence is immediately handed over to Doctor Borous for his X-8 project. With a fresh new brain, some grease on his joints, and a competent pack addition named Roxie, Rex is ready to take on any obstacle courses in the X-8 research center. Once the two cyberdogs grow bored of tearing through night stalkers and avoiding Gabe, they make their escape and lope off into the Mojave to have a litter of Boston terrifiers together.

[lebelletemps]

Chapter 1: The Dupreé

[Chapter 2] [Cast]

“We need to talk.” Rayan huffed as he approached Allix on the outside balcony. Allix looked up at the night sky, her amber brown eyes darting back and forth. She was lost in her thoughts as she always was, then she looked upon her friend with a furrowed expression. “What is it Rayan?” “The coven is growing more restless by the day, we need to come up with a plan for our people. They can’t keep living like this Allix, we can’t keep living like this.” his hand firmly placed on her shoulder. “And if the humans knew of our existence here, we wouldn’t be living at all.” she replied. “We are kept hidden for a reason, the world’s ignorance of our existence is the reason why we are alive; why we are thriving. You can’t expect for me to be okay with putting all of us at risk.” Allix turned away to head back inside, Rayan followed her walking down the dark empty corridor.

“Allix, wait!” Rayan exclaimed causing an echo to emit throughout the whole floor. “I know there is a risk of exposure given the current circumstances of our city, but there is a greater risk if we do not feed. You know that the wolves lie in wait for us to be vulnerable to destroy us. Luckily Charles was able to keep the property from being infiltrated last week, but that doesn’t mean they won’t try again and it things continue this way we probably will not be as successful fending them off.” “You think I’m not aware of that Rayan?! As much as I would like for us to partake in feeding right now, it’s too great of a risk for us to be discovered. I am asking you to please trust my judgment.” Allix and Rayan locked eyes, then he nodded.

“For our sake, I hope my trust in you is not for naught.” Rayan walked in the opposite direction as Allix entered her bedroom. Her walls were adorned with white marble with gold trim, her bedsheets matched made purely of satin, her floors made with the finest Mahogany wood that showed her reflection every time she walked on it. She sat down on the white crushed velvet ottoman at the foot of her bed and turned on the TV on her wall. The local news report was coming in talking about the recent rise in the city’s death toll this month alone, another innocent black person was killed at the hands of law enforcement in which the same officers were found dead a week later and still under investigation, some irrelevant news about a puppy adoption event and the weather report as if New Orleans has any other weather than humidity and rain. Allix heard a hefty knock on the door, she turned off the television and arose from her seat.

She opened the door to see her brother Cyrille enter her room without saying a word. “You have some nerve showing your face to me.” Allix furrowed her brow with her hands on her hips. “Because of you, we have to remain in solitude and not feed as we normally do.” she hissed. “Because of me?! Humans have been speculating our existence for eons, wanting to exterminate us. I only gave us the upper hand.” “Upper hand?! You call nearly exposing who we truly are an advantage?!” “Yes the fuck I am, we are more powerful than the humans, more powerful than those bastard wolves! We can rule them all, no more hiding, no more feeding in the shadows, we can be free Allix… truly free.”

“Are you even listening to yourself Cyrus?! The only reason why we have been so successful living as vampires is because of the fact that or existence is merely speculation! And even if we rule the city, how long before we become eradicated by others?! We cannot take on the whole state ourselves! It would be foolish!” Allix fired back. “What is foolish is us to continue living like slaves after you promised to liberate us all!” Cy retorted. “You have nearly made a grave mistake that could’ve jeopardize everyone’s life here!” “They deserved to die! They are no less than murderers! If not us then who?” “We have laws Cyrille, so does man. Our bylaws are clear on this, we do not spill the blood of our people, our descendants or LAW ENFORCEMENT!” Allix’s jaw was clenched shut, fists were balled up as her palms reddened. If looks could kill, her own brother would be a flaming corpse.

“Well none of that matters now, cause now this sends a message.” Cyrille brushed past his vexed sister. “And what message is that Cyrille?” “That our people are not to be fucked with.” His broad shoulders huffed up and down. “Our lore alone does that for us, we don’t need a grand introduction of who we are and what we do.” Allix’s door opened causing the siblings to swiftly look at the entryway. It was their youngest sister Camille, she sheepishly entered the room staring at her brother and sister. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but mother— I mean the Chief Elder requests our presence downstairs in the courtyard… immediately.” her eyes darted back and forth trying to read her older siblings expressions. “We’ll be there in a few moments Camille, thank you for letting us know. You may leave.” Allix reassured her. Camille nodded and left large double doors slightly open. “We are not done here brother, we will talk about this later.” Allix marched out of her room and Cyrille followed.

Allix and Cyrille entered the courtyard where all of the other vampires were in attendance. Allix saw Rayan, Delphine and his girlfriend Kara next to each other. Cyrille gritted his teeth as he looked at them and walked in another direction as Allix met up with her second in command. “Do you know what’s the meaning of this?” “No Rayan, I don’t.” “If even you don’t know, it might be something serious.” Delphine added almost sarcastically. “You know Chief Elder is the only one that can override any judgement Allix makes. I have an ominous feeling about this.” Kara spoke as Rayan rubbed her shoulder in an effort to comfort her. “I’m sure everything will be fine, my mother has never made any decisions without involving Rayan and I’s counsel.” Allix swallowed her words, trying to shadow her concern.

Even though the Chief Elder was not the leader of The Dupreé Plantation, she was still allowed to make executive orders and overturn any decision Allix has or ever had made at anytime. Allix’s undead heart was beating rapidly, secretly praying that she doesn’t appeal the Shadows at night act, which makes it mandatory for all vampires to feed at night only and only if they pose a threat to them or anyone in the clan. The entire clan fell dead silent as the Chief Elder entered the room with Charles the head of defense, all that can be heard is the clicking of her heels on the freshly polished marble floor. Her head was wrapped in a blood red silk scarf, the finest ruby and diamond jewels adorned her ears and neck. Her dress was far from modern as the matching colored attire covered her entire body as she walked into the middle of the room. Her face was firm was soft undertones, she was revered and loved by all who dwelled in The Dupreé.

She stood there silently and looked around the room, Allix noticed that Cyrille was standing next to Camille whispering in her ear and her just mindlessly nodding. He looked directly at Allix and they locked eyes still brimming in anger from their previous conversation. “Cyrille.” The Chief Elder began to speak. “Step down here please.” The crowd began to murmur, Allix followed her younger brother’s movements as he walked down to meet her. He kneeled before his own mother. “I am at your service Chief Elder.” Cy rose from the floor, Chief Elder began to walk around him. “Cyrille, you have stirred up quite a conundrum for us in recent weeks. Two police officers are dead, one of whom was found to be drained completely of their blood. This has called for an unnecessary attention to fall upon us and a panic to befall the great city of New Orleans.” “B-But mother I—”

The Chief Elder backhanded Cyrille with such force it

knocked down the large framed man. The whole audience was in shock and Allix’s eyes grew wide enough to cover half of her face. Cyrille’s eyes turned bright yellow staring upward at his assailant and his fangs protruded from his mouth. “In this room I am your Chief Elder and you will address me as such. Now, retract your fangs.” She stood over him, her facial expression still as cold as when she entered the room. “Well damn.” Delphine spoke under her breath with an eyebrow raised. Rayan furrowed his brow at his twin sister and she shrugged at him.

Cyrille eyes returned to their normal dark brown hue and his fangs were retracted as he got up from the floor with a bruised ego and cheek. “My apologies Chief Elder.” “Good.” she smiled. “Now Cyrille, you have violated and long time bylaw of ours by murdering those officers.” “They were the murders first Chief, they spilled the blood of the innocent… one of our people.” “The people in this room are our people, yes we have converted others in the past, but as of now. We are not accepting applications.” “So are we just going to turn a blind eye to all of these injustices around us?! Chief Elder be reasonable!” “I have been nothing but reasonable and so has our leader. We can’t protect our human brothers and sisters if we are revealed! Now for this act against our bylaws you have to face punishment.”

“Punishment?! Punishment! You’re going to punish me for ridding the world of two murderous Europeans!” “No! I am punishing you for risking our safety in the reckless manner that you did, you know I could care less about the lives of any European. But those men were enforcers of man’s law and any interference from us makes savage beasts like them. And so cannot have that amongst us.” Cyrille growled. “Your punishment as follows is that you will be locked up in the basement with silver chains for 6 months. Visitations to you will be strictly forbidden until the night of your release.” “Chief Elder PLEASE! I cannot miss the lunar cycle!” Cy bellowed.”You should’ve thought of that before you did what you did. Charles, take him away.” Chief Elder’s was emotionless and still and Charles and another guard took her only son away. Allix looked over and see her sister Camille crying blood as Cyrille was carried off and wiped them off and looked away the second she noticed Allix was staring at her.

“Now that that’s over, more impertinent matters to discuss, as you all are aware Mardi Gras is coming very soon. This is normally prime feeding and conversion time for us, so I want to make myself perfectly clear… No. conversion. of. any. kind. shall take place on Mardi Gras. You are only allowed to feed, mating with the humans is acceptable for now, but you must feed off of them.” The crowd murmured amongst themselves and Allix still didn’t take her eyes off Camille. “As you know, maintaining a romantic or sexual relationship with human is strictly verboten! Any violation of this will meet with quick and brutal punishment by either our leader Allix or by me. Humans are food, not companionship. And we shall only feed only on non-African descendants. Violation of this law is punishable by death depending on the severity of the violation.”

“What if we mated with the descendants?” a random vampire pointed out. “Normally you would convert them, but we are not going to convert anyone to our ranks are we?” “No Chief Elder.” “Good, then you answered your own question.” “I-I have a question Chief Elder.” Camille raised her hand, Chief Elder smiled at her. “Yes child?” “Are we able to feed the morning of Mardi Gras?” “That depends on your willingness to sun exposure. As you all know children due to our superior genetics, the sun merely irritates us on contact. We do not burn as quickly as our paler counterparts, but that does not mean we cannot die at the hands of the sun… it only takes longer and sometimes goes undetected. So yes, you may feed during the day but be mindful of all the risks involved with doing so.” Camille nodded. Allix narrowed her eyes, she feels there was something going on unbeknownst to her.

“So this concludes our meeting for this evening, dawn is coming soon and I highly suggest getting some rest. Allix?” Allix’s trance was broken as she looked at her mother. “May you come with me to my chambers please?” Allix nodded and moved through the crowd. Rayan, Kara, and Delphine all walked off together and Rayan gave Allix a reassuring nod. Allix walked side by side with her mother, Charles silently followed them down the far point of the house to the room which used to belong to their slave master all those years ago, now is hers. The room was moderately modernized with automatic lights, standing shower and several other amenities, but that does not change the significance of this room. “Come, sit my child.” she directed Allix to an antique round table. Both women sat down and Allix looked into the eyes of her mother as they softened a complete contrast from her hardened scowl she had just a few moments ago.

“I wanted to apologize to you daughter, I shouldn’t have overstepped on your role of being our leader. But the people needed an example to be made, I know he is your brother… my son, but we cannot and must not allow disobedience regardless of family. Our duty is to our preservation, nothing more.” she cupped her hand over her daughter’s. “I could’ve handled punishing Cyrille just fine, I wish you would’ve spoken with me first before you held a meeting. A forewarning would’ve been more appropriate.” Allix withdrew her hands back from her mother, rising from her seat. “You know I’ve always supported your decisions, even when they object to mine. But I need for the clan to respect me and my word will be less respected if you keep intervening in my judgements. This goes without saying, but I will no longer require your counsel in future judgments for the infractions of the clan.”

The Chief Elder’s face switched from a softened expression to a dark scowl within mere seconds after the words exited Allix’s lips. “I beg your pardon child.” “I am not a child. I have surpassed that title many centuries ago, I the leader of The Dupreé plantation and I refute any title less than such.” Allix stood up straight adjusting her black velvet blazer. “You will remains as Chief Elder, handling smaller tasks of the property and the clan. As far as major provocations amongst the coven shall be handled exclusively be me and me alone. You may speak your thoughts and concerns with me only when permitted.” Allix retained her emotionless expression. The Chief Elder’s brow raised as she began to chuckle, then she looked back at her child with a skeptical smirk on her face and her hand rested under her chin. “You are making a grave mistake my dear, you didn’t even know how you were going to organize these people for the Coup d’éat. Hell, you didn’t know what to do with us after. Do you really think you can govern these people without counsel? Without me?” Allix’s gaze fixated on her mother.

“I am more than capable to decide what is best for us and the rest of the clan. I am fully aware of my duties Chief Elder, I have spoken all that is to be said about this matter. I will retire for the evening, have a goodnight.” “You are foolish to believe that you can run the clan by yourself, but tell me something… will you appeal any of the acts I’ve enforced?” “Nope, the rules for Mardi Gras was well executed. But I will lessen Cyrille’s sentence, instead of six months it will be 3 weeks.” “You are going to let your brother loose right before Mardi Gras?! Knowing he has no regards for human life?” Chief Elder jolted up from her seat. “He will have strict rules to abide by as a condition of his lightened sentence or he’ll be given a harsher sentence.” “Such as?” Chief Elder raised her eyebrow. “That’s for me and him to discuss, once again I bid you a good evening mother.” Allix walked out of the bedroom door and signaled Charles to follow her.

“I need you to give me every report about the infrastructure of this home and the overall lot of the property within the past six months. And I need them brought to me by next nightfall in my hands or on my desk. I prefer the former.” “Yes, Empress Allix.” Charles deep, brazen baritone replied. “Are you going to inform your brother of his early release?” “No.” she looked up at his tall and solid frame. “I will come for him when it is time, no need to be concerned with him.” Charles nodded. “And Charles?” “Yes madam?” They both stopped walking and turned to face each other. “There will be a new era that will befall us, I know you have a strong sense of loyalty to my mother. I need to know without a shadow of a doubt that you are loyal to me too.” Charles drew in a deep breath. “My loyalty only and always been to the prosperity of the clan, The Dupreé and all who dwell within it. That’s includes you so yes, you have my loyalty.” “I appreciate that.” Charles gently grabbed Allix’s arm as she was trying to walk away causing her to quickly turn back around.

“So with that, I must tell you that many people in the clan, especially the older ones highly respect your mother and are loyalists to her influence. There is a good enough chance of them to not show you in a favorable light because of your executive decision. They will try to find a reason not to trust your judgement, be mindful of that.” “I understand, thank you Charles.” “Of course, I will get you those documents ready for you.” Allix walked into her bedroom and laid across her bed staring at her reflection in the ceiling. A knock on Allix’s door broke her trance. “Come in.” The door opened as Camille walked in, her eyes and cheeks reddened from her bloody tears that have since dried. She kept fidgeting her hands and looking over her shoulder, she was visibly troubled and had something to say. Allix looked at her younger sister with a concerned expression. “What’s going on Camille?” “You have to get Cyrille out of confinement please.” she sniffles. “Camille, our brother has broken the law… a very big one. He has to punished or people will think it is not only favoritism, but a free pass to do whatever I can’t have th—” “Cyrille didn’t kill those officers! I-I did.” Allix’s eyes widened at what she heard. “I killed them Allix, it was me.”