#putting all the tags in so we fight on the frontlines like good soldiers

[lemonhemlock]

https://twitter.com/obeliafyre/status/1612323981750583297?t=wJBZSHxSBlBLn3plcJPx4Q&s=19

😐

ok first of all hill's alive is doing the lord's work

second of all allow me to rephrase the greatest argument against this stupid pairing: ALICENT WOULD NEVER HAND OVER DREAMFYRE, THE BIGGEST DRAGON IN HER ARSENAL (at the time), TO RHAENYRA. A FEMALE, EGG-LAYING DRAGON.

third of all these people would refuse to budge even if an entire shelf of medieval historiography fell on top of them

fourth of all it's time to plug my masterpiece anti-jalaena post for the nth time

[mikithelibrarian]

When you fall in love with them - Queen! BLACKPINK - AU - GN! Reader

Fluff

A/N: Decided to add the TWs to each individual scenario as they are needed and modified the name of a real-life country to adapt it to a fantasy setting, I'll gladly receive any comments if you wish me to change any of this.

AU Index

Previous Part

Next Part

Jisoo

As you walked through the halls of the hallways of the castle, you couldn’t stop yourself from remembering how all has changed. You were a grown-up and the official personal servant for Your Majesty, Queen Jisoo.

Ever since she stepped up to the maximum position in the realm, she made sure to make some changes to it, up until she practically remodeled how everything looked. Jisoo built gardens, fountains and many places for the people to gather, such as parks and marketplaces, she also ordered to repaint a lot of the royal buildings, passing from the monotone grey to a brighter white tone.

Those changes also impacted the insides and outsides of the castle. What once was a place that inspired fear became a place that inspired security, coziness, something you thanked for. You remember getting lost in these hallways, running away from the now Queen as she insisted on playing hide-and-seek. How the darkness engulfed you, how the steps of the patrolling guards put you on your nerves, how you sometimes felt prisoner of the royal family; but then, she would appear, smile at you and tell you that it was her turn to hide now.

She was always gentle with you and treated you as an equal, unlike her parents.

It was then when you decided to look through one of the windows and noticed Jisoo running around exterior of the castle, still in her royal dress but without any care in the world if it got dirty or not. She was playing tag with some of the kids of the servants that worked for the royal family. To think that in just some hours she would put on a façade to receive a diplomat from one of your neighboring kingdoms made you smile.

You put that thought aside and continued walking until you exited the castle, about to go into town in search of a new board game you heard a foreigner merchant just brought with them, maybe Jisoo would like it. That was until a hand gently touched your shoulder, prompting you to look to your side, seeing the bright smile of the Queen.

“You´re it!”

After all this time, everything but her has changed. She was still this crazy woman that just wanted to have fun, to be happy. In that short moment in which you were processing that you were now forced to play with her, you came to a realization.

You were part of her happiness, and she was part of yours too.

Jennie

TW: Strong language, mentions of war, fighting, blood and injuries

“General (Y/N) got injured”

Those words kept repeating on her head as she ran to your room. How dare the doctor follow your orders to hide that fact from her as much as he could?! And how dare you wanted to keep it a secret from her?!

When she sent you off to conquer the enemy’s capital and finish the war, she asked only one thing from you: Be safe. Now she hears you weren’t just in the battlefield managing your troops, but also in the frontlines putting yourself more in danger?!

She was glad you didn’t die, so she could kill you herself.

“You better have a good excuse for keeping this a secret!” She exclaimed as she barged into your room. You immediately sat up in your bed, deciding that the fear of an angry Queen was way worse than the pain you were feeling in your stomach.

“We won” You said in a low tone and small smile, trying to convince her to be merciful with you.

“I could care less if we won or not! I asked you one thing (Y/N)! Just one! And you said you would!” Jennie got closer to your bed, her eyes slowly filling up with tears. “Is your word worth nothing?! Does my feelings mean nothing to you?!”

“My Queen-

“Shut up!” When Jennie was beside your bed, she knelt and gently grabbed your hand. “Just shut up”

As the soldier you were, you followed her orders and resisted the urge to argue back. You were an extension of the royal family, that was what your parents told you when you were training with them, a mean to an end, if you were to die following orders of the royal family, it was an honor. Your father, the marshal and your mother, the army strategist, made sure to engrave those ideals by fire into your brain.

As long as you live, you’ll only be a weapon for the Kim Dynasty, rightful rulers of the divided land known as Zeland. Then, why was the Queen crying into your hand? Crying for someone that was equal to a plain sword?

“Jennie” You dared to speak up, your other hand reaching to caress her head, trying to calm her down. “My health means nothing if I can fulfill your will”

“For me it does!” Jennie raised her head forcing you take your hand off her, her eyes red and puffy from crying looked into yours. “I prefer to be disposed of my crown rather than losing you!”

You wanted to think that she was only exaggerating, but it was impossible by the way those eyes didn’t falter at her statement.

Why show such concern for you when nobody has done it since the death of your parents?

In that moment you dared to caress her cheek with your free hand as she received the display of affection, going to a point in which she leaned just a tiny bit into your hand, not wanting to surrender her anger and frustration.

“I’m so sorry, My Queen”

Rosé

With doubt in her mind, Roseanne walked towards the new section of the castle gardens with a flowerpot, a red rose standing tall over the dirt on it. During these months, she has been learning how to properly grow a flower, just from looking at you preparing the ground for the new flowers to blossom into their vivid colors.

This new section of the garden was only reserved for you and her, as it was her orders, while the old section was re-opened to the public after twenty years. She named you her ‘personal gardener’, a new title she created just for you to be able to take care of the reserved section and to manage the new gardeners she hired to maintain the old garden.

She already had plans for this new reserved section, she wanted to receive very important diplomatic visits there, even thinking about restoring the lost connection between their closest kingdoms, but not before having a date with you.

Roseanne has maintained her silence for far too long, she wanted you to be hers, and only hers, imagining you with a crown on your head and a throne beside her, ruling as equals.

As she entered the reserved section through the ark that was built to divide it from the rest of the ground, saluting the guards protecting this section, her surroundings were covered by a dense section of trees as she continued travelling through the stone path. Suddenly, those trees opened into a clearing, in which you were, tending the garden.

The new private garden was full of red and pinks roses, per the Queen’s request, and even added some black roses for contrast. In the middle of the garden, a gazebo complemented the look with a tea table in it, for when Rosé wanted to be alone, or alone with someone. It looked like a description of a fantasy book, a part of the world irradiating so much magic that it was hard to think she was awake. The roses were shining as if they could irradiate their own light and the vivid colors alongside the faint aroma of roses made the Queen to immediately lower her guard and enjoy the relaxation it brought.

However, that relaxation was short-lived as she now remembered that she wanted to give you the rose she has been taking care of for months, but now she felt insecure about it. Compared to the roses in the garden, the one she grew didn’t have such colors or presence, it was healthy, but it was not radiating.

She wanted to run away, to throw the flower and start again, until you finally noticed her presence and immediately stood up to bow at her. “Queen Roseanne, good afternoon” Rosé looked silently at you, while your eyes looked at the rose she held between her hands. “May I be of service?”

“This rose…” Her voice was insecure, almost trembling, as she extended the rose towards you.

With her sentence incomplete you got closer to her and eyed the rose once you were in front of the Queen. “It looks beautiful, My Queen” You gently took the flowerpot from her hands as you inspected each part of the rose. Meanwhile, Roseanne smiled at you, hope returning to her body as she processed your words. “It looks so healthy Your Majesty, and…” You closed your eyes as you smelled the rose, a smile showing on your lips. “…Smells delightfully” You looked at your Queen, her expression radiating happiness. “Should I put it on the center of the tea table? I’m sure it will add the master touch to your garden, My Queen”

“It’s for you” Roseanne doesn´t know from where that confidence came from, but she didn’t care. To grow this single rose took a lot of space in her mind for months, thinking about its final purpose, to be given to you. “I learnt to take care of a flower from you, so I did, because I wanted to give you one”

You were surprised and your face showed it. You then looked back at the rose as your heart started to beat faster and faster. She grew a rose, just for you, does that mean?

It can’t be…

With your mind full of doubts, only one thing was certain when you looked back at her.

“It’s so beautiful My Queen, thank you”

You fell in love with her.

Lisa

TW: Mentions of massacre and death

“Do you where the Queen is?”

“I saw her entering the practice dance hall”

As you said your thanks, you walked towards the said place, papers in your hand reporting the progress made in the training of the royal guard. It has been a rough time but you could finally see some progress, at least they are showing more discipline, even if they still are too weak compared to how strong they are supposed to be.

Your relationship with Queen Lisa has gotten better too. You’ve tried to not hold grudges towards her because of her taking you off from the action to train a bunc of incompetent soldiers and talk to her as you would normally do with any other person. You didn’t care about crowns, gold, or titles, you didn’t even care if Lisa was a Queen or not, as long as she took care of her kingdom and procure the best for her people, as her obligations are, you will have no complaints about her.

It has, however, been sometimes uncomfortable. Queen Lalisa has opened a little too much towards you, much more than what you expected to, but that was not the uncomfortable part, it was when she asked about your past when it became uncomfortable.

How the previous monarch neglected your village and left everyone you knew as a child to starve on their own, how the guards were retired from their posts and your village was left to defend on their own against bandits, how you managed to escape the fire and fighting leaving behind those who you once loved…

Of course, you never told her anything nor will you blame her for her parents actions, not while she treated you with respect and showed true interest in bringing her kingdom the prosperity it once had.

You sighed before you opened the door to the dance hall where the Queen liked to practice, so lost in your mind that you forgot to knock and ask for permission to enter, an action you regretted.

There she was, not in her normal dress but in one that was a lot lighter, only wearing an off the shoulder white dress that just left her bare feet discovered because of its length, her hair not as fixed and with no make-up on.

You just saw the Queen in a way only her closest servants are allowed to do so as per the previous monarchs' request, the thoughts of you being sent into the dungeon filled your head as you already could see the end of your military career.

When Lalisa looked at you, she actually thought nothing of it, she actually seemed comfortable with looking at her current appearance. “Commander (Y/N), do you need something?”

“I’m so sorry for intruding Your Majesty, I’ll receive any punishment you might think acceptable” You bowed down making Lisa giggle at the ridiculousness of your actions.

“I don’t mind if it’s you Commander (Y/N)” She walked towards you and pulled you fully into the hall, closing the door behind you. “My dancing teacher couldn’t make it today and I was practicing alone, hence my current appearance” She looked at the papers in your hands. “Something to report?”

“Only the routinary documents, Queen Lalisa” Lisa took the documents from your hands and eyed them before carefully laying them on the floor beside her.

“Say, Commander, do know how to dance?” As she asked, Lisa walked to the center of the hall.

“Just the basics, Queen-

“Drop the Queen, just call me Lisa” She extended her hand towards you. “Could you practice with me, (Y/N)?”

You didn’t know what it was, maybe the informality of it all or the privacy you both had in the dancing hall, but you walked towards her and accepted her invitation to dace. As you held her hand, she grabbed your other arm and posed it on her waist for then posing her free hand on your shoulder.

From the first second, she guided the dance and marked the pace you should follow. You wondered how with no music this dance felt so real. Your entire body felt so relaxed, as if all your obligations and expectations went away, yet so tense since you wanted this dance to be perfect.

As you saw at Lisa, how her eyes shone for you and her smile adorned her beautiful features, you made your best to engrave this memory into your brain. With her, you felt as if being a soldier didn’t matter anymore.

[newbornwhumperfly]

it started out as a feeling...

CW: stress position, wrist trauma, blood, cigarette burns, modern slavery, slave-soldiers, discussion of war, references to abuse 

tagging: @haro-whumps, @whumping-every-day, @whumpthisway, @lave-e, @stoic-whumpee, @swordkallya, @whumpster-draganies @liliability

so. i Finally wrapped up my first installment of a whump series i’ve planned for ages after enormous support from fellow whomp-bloggers, many brainstorm sessions, amazing people drawing amazing art, & kind questions from people asking about original content <3<3<3

this wouldn’t happen w/to @haro-whumps cause they’ve been utterly invaluable <3<3<3 not only have i gained an enthusiastic cheerleader and beta but a good friend. thank you from the bottom of my heart :)))) 

title from “the call” by regina spektor

it’s Quite Long & exposition heavy but i promise - it gets angstier :)))

~       

July. 13.

Author: Captain Abraxas Hutchins.

Confidential Situation Report: cc; TATT Commander’s Guild

In this ninth official year in the conflict between New Athens and Upper Tyrus, I agree with general assessments that the cold war has heated significantly. In the past three years in particular, we have seen a sharp increase in subterfuge and sabotage towards essential operations.

Though skirmishes at both borders have become more frequent, our greatest concern regarding national security appears to be increasing levels of assination and data theft from New Athenian agents against the state of Tyrus (in both Upper and Lower Regions).

I understand that several commanding officers at TATT (Tyrus Anti-Terrorism Taskforce) are concerned about several bombings in the past three years as they are believed to be the efforts of New Athenian covert agents (unverified but probable). Despite the violent nature of these bombings, it is my opinion that the theft of data (as well as targeted assassinations) be considered PRIORITY. I consider it New Athenian strategy to cripple our operations.

(NOTED OBJECTION: My team sniper and fellow threat-analyst Cdr. Jorah Cuthbert’s assessment considers these bombings PRIORITY due to initial attacks causing military casualties, and some civilian, casualties.)

Though we have strengthened forces along our borders, even maintaining several “watchtower” outposts in the “Wasteland” region between Tyrus and New Athens, such security measures have failed to prevent the aforementioned acts of aggression.

Despite intense vigilance and dogged pursuit, no New Athenian covert agents have ever been successfully interrogated for high-value information and those few we have managed to apprehend committed suicide (or were assassinated) in custody and, since, before capture. 

OPINION: A renewed focus on the apprehension, detainment, and interrogation (NOT “ENHANCED INTERROGATION”) of a New Athenian covert agent would reap invaluable rewards in data-gathering, threat-analysis, and contributing to a stalemate in this crisis.

Though neither government has declared an official state of war, the political tensions of the past two decades have culminated in acts of aggression that might soon bring negotiation and diplomacy to their breaking points. The Tyrus Parliament’s recent statement is that they intend to “aggressively protect” mineral mining expansions into the borders of South “Wasteland” territory “with Legion support if necessary  (Senator Gilroy, Parliamentary Address, June 22). Such mineral expansions will certainly extend to Raetean coastal territory, which would inevitably result in clashes with Athenian security forces protecting land development projects conducted by New Athenian government). 

In my assessment, this will exacerbate tensions further between our nations. The Islands of Raetea off the coast of New Athens continue to suffer, with recent blockades and Tyrus sanctions increasing Raetea’s economic crisis, which has only worsened over the past four years. It is very likely that there will be a new wave of refugees into the state of New Athens as a result of tensions between Tyrus and Athenian operations, similar to what we observed at the unofficial start of this conflict over a decade ago. Consequent economic burdens and the optics of this influx of refugees will contribute to pro-war sentiment in New Athens.

It is my view that if the Legion must communicate with Parliament that if state negotiators do not increase their efforts--

Brax paused in their writing as another pang shot through their wrist.

Blinking against the blue dots which hovered in their periphery, they set down their stylus to stretch the kinks out of their aching fingers. They really needed to finish their sit-rep before noon tomorrow but there was no harm in pausing for some tea. Oh, and they still needed to get Jorah’s electronic signature before they sent off the document…

Allowing a groan to break through the stifling silence, Brax glared balefully at the slow-spinning ceiling fan.

It is an inanimate object.

It cannot feel your recrimination and will not go faster.

Rational, reasonable facts which didn’t stop them from glaring harder at the offending blades, languidly batting the warm air from corner to corner. Sweat began to dampen Brax’s robe a mere minute after they slipped it on, clinging to their back as they rose from the bed and strode to pour themself another cup of Darjeeling. It was a sign of how oppressive summer had become that the heat bothered them enough to glare at a goddamn ceiling fan.

Or maybe it was just this report.

Brax’s eyes throbbed to match their hands as their gaze tracked the bubbles rolling in the coffee-maker and thinking, suddenly, how they would rather do this than spend another minute on this report.

A report they had written before, in fewer, less urgent words. Perhaps they would come to write it so often that they could pen it with their eyes closed.

Brax was not born for...this.

Analyzing data for larger patterns, working with people to coalesce them into workable teams, untangling the knots of complex problems - it was all Brax’s bread and butter.

They just never thought they’d be doing it in service of a war.

Especially not such a war as this, which stretched on, cold and quiet as perpetual winter, for years upon years with no official frontline, no certain death toll, and no end in sight. It crept like frost through even the most iron structures of their society, the bite of corruption and desperation corroding from within, unrelenting attacks from without. A conflict that Brax had seen steal the best of their generation, silently and suddenly, into the night.

Alright, that decided it. Melatonin with their tea it was. Brax reminded themself not to make this a habit as they tapped two pills into their palm before they carried a steaming mug back to their bedside.

A fair and direct fight was more their speed.

Well, technically their speed was to avoid fights if at all possible but the past few years with the Legion had taught Brax that the thin line between caution and cowardice was easily crossed - regardless of intent.

They were not so foolish to hope to keep their innocence but they intended to keep their worldview intact, despite how determined the world seemed to shatter their views. They would not allow their intelligence to be broken into shards of cynicism and brutal practicality.

But in such a war as this, intelligence was never undervalued and Brax’s reputation for swift, sure judgement had left their opinion heavily in demand. They had heard the call and gone from analyzing political conflict behind a desk to the field with surprising ease, mirrored in their meteoric ascent through the ranks. 

Though they often wished for their cramped desk and stale coffee, they knew they were needed here and could not now resent being so pressed for their help.

Which is why they didn’t have much of a right to be surprised when a knock, heavy and booming, rapped against the door of their quarters.

Brax allowed themself a regretful blink at their unswallowed pills and undrunk tea before setting them down delicately, not at all with a disgruntled thud, before striding to the door.

Cobi had the decency to look a little rueful when faced with his commanding officer, haggard and bleary, clad in only a robe.

“This had better be damn important, Lt. Pfeffer,” Brax attempts to be wry but the strain in their voice rather diminishes the humor. “My Darjeeling has melatonin in it.”

“Yeah, uh, yes, Captain. Ok, uh…”

Cobi hesitated, chewed his lip as his mighty hands flexed, clenched white-knuckled, and suddenly Brax knew that shit was about to go down.

“Captain, someone...an Athens agent crossed the border. Like, just fuckin’ walked right into an outpost and, uh, gave themself up. This morning. So, uh. Yeah. Guessing that’s important, Captain.”

Well.

It seemed that report was going to have to wait.

~

The government car felt too small and too hot as it rocketed through the thick, buggy dark and Brax once again resisted the urge to adjust their shirt collar.

Putting the heat, and the thought that they really should have changed their undershirt, to the side, they glanced at the car’s digital clock.

02:45

They didn’t think the driver would notice if they fixed their appearance but Brax preferred not to bring undue attention to the sloppy adjustment of their hastily donned uniform. Repressing a sigh, Brax scrolled through their data-pad, sweaty fingers slipping on the screen as they skimmed through the electronic sit-rep.

\

At approx. 22:10, a New Athens covert agent approached a Wasteland outpost.

The agent was bound and searched. The agent was unarmed and scans revealed no explosive devices or any other weapons. The uniform was confiscated to search for bugs. Upon interrogation, the agent would only state name, serial number, and desire to speak to someone in the command structure. The agent has been restrained securely to prevent possible suicide.

Stated name: Morja (Serial #:13308)

Approx. 5’, 5-6”

Approx. late 20’s to early 30’s

Brown skin (possible Raetean descent - known to be typical for covert agents)

Health Status: no diseases, no medical conditions known

No current, major injuries noted. 

/

Once again, Brax’s eyes drifted inexorably towards the clock’s bright glare.

02:47

Shit.

Time crept like the dark fields beyond the tinted window, too slow and yet too quick, as Brax struggled to grasp their prided equilibrium. Yet they felt like it was slipping from their grip like the datapad through sweaty hands.

The security bureau likely felt they were already lagging too far behind this development. This interview ought to have happened hours ago. Brax needed more time, more information, to interrogate this agent. They needed to know if this agent had previous contact with Tyrus forces.

They need more time.

The truth was that, despite the considerable efforts of Tyrus' intelligence agents, they had very little notion of how covert assassins were trained on the other side. Even the recruitment process was shrouded in mystery and misinformation, but many analysts suspected that service was..less than voluntary. They knew that impressment targeted Raetean refugees, third-class citizens, and often poor prisoners, all conscripted with grand offers of security - or, as Brax recalled with a gag from a propaganda newsclip, “the service of the lesser so the great will prosper”.

These agents started young and desperate, understandably - easy to break into desirable moulds. New Athenian agents fought with fervent loyalty on par with religious devotion, with most Tyrus citizens considering these agents devout to their nation like cultists to their faith.

Brax did not entirely buy that.

Being trained (likely brutally) and indoctrinated with nationalist gratitude since youth, plucked from a miserable existence. Especially where the third-tier citizens and refugees often died of untreated illness, ration shortage, and climate poisoning.

Choice was all well and good to praise when one has never had...no choice.

There was also the fact that treason, dissension, any sort of breaking ranks - all punished with a proud severity typical to an authoritarian state. Add these all together and a nation gets a loyal stock of “servants”, bound for life to die for a state which did not seem to care how many they lost as long as they achieved their goals: the prosperity of the great.

They need to focus on the details at hand.

They need beads of sweat to stop rolling off the dome of their head, trickling to the wire-rimmed lens and clinging to the glasses, refusing to fall.

Ignore it.

One thing was quite certain - Brax had no idea what to expect.

~

The atmosphere in the outpost bunker buzzed with anticipation, goosebumps rising along Brax’s arms even in the sweltering air, as they stepped down into the building. Two fresh-faced lieutenants stood at restless attention and once Brax stepped into the room the fidgeting figures snapped out their salutes, hand to forehead, with a nervous, jerky speed.

A reedy blonde, the sergeant in charge, seemed to barely keep herself from crossing her arms across her body, hands making abortive gestures towards her torso as she briefed Brax on the situation. She was sweating dark stains through her uniform and her mouth ticked sporadically, twisting into a small, hard shape.

Brax knew all the information given but they allowed her the extra minute to grit the story through her teeth. She clearly needed this.

Nodding sharply at her conclusion, Brax inquired and was led to where the agent was being held, a small soundproof room with a heavy steel door.

“Under no circumstances am I to be interrupted - is that clear?”

Satisfied by the brisk nods of their wide-eyed subordinates, Brax gripped the cell’s door handle harder than necessary as they input the code with slow, steady presses of a slippery finger. Taking a moment to cycle through all known factors in their head, they allowed their shoulders to drop and slipped on the politely inquisitive neutrality of their game-face.

As they stepped, resolutely, over the threshold of the cell, their eyes adjusted to the dark room and they finally laid eyes on the agent in question.

A stocky figure, likely short in stature, thickly muscled limbs, dressed in a Tyrus Legion issue slacks and teeshirt. Even in the low light, Brax could see the agent was dark in complexion, with the brown skin and black hair typical of Raetean citizens.

“Likely” short, Brax noted, since no real gauge could be made of the figure’s height since said figure was on their knees, shackled.

Their ankles and shins had been tightly bound together, leaving the figure to balance in an uneven kneel, straining the broad shoulders where their arms had been drawn back and up to the wall, where their clenched hands were bound in thick, steel cuffs.

Shit. That was just wonderful, wasn’t it? They knew the agent would surely be cuffed - they had been handed keys after all - but nobody had mentioned...stress positions.

Just as well. Brax’s opinion on the outpost’s flirtation with torture was well-known amongst superiors and subordinates alike. They didn’t need their blood up. Ir would have been nice if these soldiers hadn’t played fast and loose with protocol. But the reprimand can wait, Brax sternly reminded themself. Focus on the task at hand.

As the door swung heavily shut behind Brax, the figure raised their head slowly.

A dim glow from the one dangling bulb threw shifting shadows onto a rugged face - thinly bearded, a wide brow, chin and nose, the broad bridge crooked from an old break. Their mouth was pressed into a thin, hard line. Their thick, jet-black hair gleamed with perspiration, the sweat-drenched locks watermarking the pale green of their shirt-shoulders. 

The low light accented thick scars ridging the bronze flesh: a wide mark swooping over his nose, slashing through a thick right brow, curving below the left cheekbone, and a jagged mark splitting the tender skin below one of their dark, deep-set eyes.

Those eyes glinted for a moment, alighting on Brax’s face before flicking away, settling blankly somewhere around the fourth button of Brax’s uniform.

No further movement, not even a change in breathing, from the agent. No flicker of expression disturbed the blankness of their face. Only steady blinking and a cadenced swell of the broad chest indicated that they were even alive.

Well, they were a stoic one, that was certain.

If they were as smart as they must be, they were either suppressing terror at their predicament (likely) or smug certainty in some nefarious ploy (plausible but less certain).

Brax let the air simmer for a few more moments before striding with purpose towards the figure, ready to undo their bonds. At their first certain step, every line in the agent’s body tautened, rigid as a sail in the wind, as their rhythmic breaths quickened - shallowly, shortly out, deeply, swiftly in.

So - the former.

Reassured by a confirmation of their assessment, though less pleased to be a source of distress, Brax made quick work of the restraints.

They stepped back, giving the agent a moment to straighten up and rub their wrists. The figure’s gaze flicked to Brax’s face, brow nearly creasing into a furrow before smoothing once more. They allowed their arms to fall and settle stiffly on their lap, settling on their knees and settling their gaze once more upon Brax’s waist.

Alright then - no aggression, no combative expression, nothing but complete submission so far.

Good cop it is then - good.

Sinking to one knee, Brax tried to seek out the agent’s eyes but that dark gaze remained lowered, so Brax focused on keeping their voice low and soft.

“Hello, Morja, my name is Captain Abraxas Hutchins. I was told you wanted to talk to someone higher in the ranks, so, you got me. Can you tell me what it is you want?”

An intake of breath, sharp and sudden.

Brax would almost call it a gasp and their close observance caught the figure’s eyes flickering with something like shock. If the agent was bewildered or shocked, however, they recovered swiftly, their soft burr revealing no more emotion than their stony face.

“Anóteros, I came to...offer my service to Tyrus.”

....Well. Alright. Well.

Brax allowed themself a blink. Taking a moment to process this statement.

“Are you...are you telling me that you’re surrendering?”

“...Yes, anóteros.”

The agent opened their mouth, paused, spoke once their gaze flickered over Brax’s nod of encouragement.

“I am… deserting New Athens. I… offer my service to this nation. I will offer information. I will fight. I will….do whatever you want.”

The way that the agent spoke, measuring each word as some fragile and heavy thing, sat uneasily with Brax. So did being called “master” or “superior” or whatever that word meant.

As the agent’s palms stiffened, flexing upon their thighs, their close proximity allowing Brax to note the copious scars and burns (some little and disturbingly round) littered upon those wide hands. Brax kept noting that too, the broadness of the figure before them and how often they forgot the size in light of the demeanor. Their shoulders did not hunch, their head did not hang low, but they projected absolute submission.

I am not a threat. I am small and harmless. You do not need to hurt me.

Brax did not need psych-profile terminology at the moment. They could almost hear Sarai’s murmurous meandering on abuse survivors and body language, atypical trauma symptoms, and all the things Brax knew too much about for a lifetime. This agent’s possible history with abuse was an issue for the aforementioned team medic and therapist to ponder if she wished.

Brax was here to assess potential threats.

They were not at all influenced by how the shift of movement drew their eyes to the cruel grooves in the agent’s wrists, deep and ugly crimson, the clear marks of viciously fastened zip-ties.

Not in the least.

Skin on the left wrist had broken and blood sluggishly trickled from the cruel, red circle.

“Do your wrists hurt?”

The agent’s eyes snapped up, fixing Brax with another brief flicker of astonishment. It lasted a mere moment before the agent lowered their gaze. They shifted, their lips parted, shut, parted again.

“Don’t lie - are you in any pain?”

The agent visibly twitched this time, nodding quickly.

Brax would not be accused of being soft by most people. Secretive, observant, strict - usual adjectives whispered regarding the taciturn leader. But for all Brax had purposefully cultivated their reputation of principled sternness, they hoped to be accused of compassion just as often.

What was the use of incisive insight, being able to read people fairly, assess their intentions accurately, and deal with them rightfully if they could not extend it to someone right in front of them?

Well, they would rather be damned for humanity anyhow.

Rising from their haunches, Brax strode to the door and rapped sharply, demanding a first-aid kit from the blinking officer. After some fumbling in cabinets beneath the open stares from frozen compatriots, the officer handed over the item.

Brax traded their crouch for a kneel, mirroring the pose of the rigid agent while they fished some analgesic ointment out of the kit.

“Hold out your hands for me?”

The figure obeyed without a moment of hesitation, palms spread and forearms balanced in tandem.

Brax hummed in approval, cleaning their own hands with alcohol before hovering a fresh wipe over the maimed flesh.

“This is going to sting but the ointment will help with that in a minute.”

The agent did not so much as wince, palms perfectly still as Brax swiped at the gashes as swiftly as they could. Despite the lack of reaction, the agent’s wrists likely felt aflame at the disinfectant.

“So, stop me if I’m wrong. As I understand it, you’re…”

Brax balanced two words on their tongue. Defecting? The alcohol swab snagged a pucker of scar. Round. Diverted. Still pink, a few years old.

“...fleeing. And you want to cooperate, work with us willingly, yes?”

A nod.

“Have any of your anótero ordered you to surrender yourself?”

The agent twitched but their mouth pulled down in another flash of bewilderment.

“No, sir,...New Athens does not infiltrate. I am...committing treason by being here. Even...even by speaking to you, anoóteros, I would be...executed.”

Dry tracks of crimson had eked down the agent’s forearms from their downward angle.

“Then why are you here? What do you want?”

Peeling the wrapper off another wipe, Brax began cleaning those trails, smothering a frown as the stale air thickened with the sharp, metal scent of blood and alcohol.

“I...believe that there is a better way. For my people. A better way that those at the head will not see, will never see. It is not…their way. The only way to save...to have this better way is to end the conflict. To dismantle central operations in New Athens until there is no choice but to change things.”

“So you want to use y-their own tactics against them?”

“They are effective, anóteros.”

A fair point.

“And…”

Brax hummed in question and after a strained beat of silence, the agent continued.

“In e-exchange...for an active policy of recruitment of Athenian agents, taken in alive.”

Well.

“You, you think other agents will defect.”

“...I do.”

Well.

“I see.”

Brax focuses their attention on a crusted clump of blood at the agent’s pulse point, dabbing wetly and turning the information over, the blunt shock of the agent’s words tumbling through their mind. The heat pressed against Brax’s skin, thickened like a cap against their skull, they needed to think.

They need to let their instincts guide them.

“So those are your, uh, conditions for cooperating with us?”

“And I will not execute civilian targets - on either side.”

For the first time, steel edged the tone, the words all weight and no hesitation.

Brax had no counter to this so they merely hummed.

Crumpling bloodied wipes into the kit, Brax dolloped ointment onto their fingertips and began rubbing it into the cuts, grateful for the waft of peppermint which broke up the morbid odor and finally fully gazing up at their patient.

The agent regarded Brax openly, eyes glinting with a bright mixture of caution, bewilderment, and something very much like awe. That look pinned Brax. It seemed that those eyes were shocked into aching vulnerability from an act of simple kindness and it made Brax...unsettled.

“Better?”

“...Y-yes, anóteros.”

“Ah. You don’t need to call me that.”

That little furrow deepened between the agent’s brows.

“Anoóteros. If it makes you more comfortable, I don’t object to it. But I’m not requiring you to call me ‘superior’, ok?”

Now the corners of the agent’s mouth creased downwards as their lips parted, pressed together, and their sharp nod followed suit.

“Yes, sir.”

“Call me Captain. Sir’s a bit, ah, inaccurate anyway.”

Brax quirked their lips softly, trying to assuage any potential tension at the correction. They did this with any new subordinate, awkwardly hovering between honorifics in the face of Brax’s...ambiguity. It usually worked well - usually. The agent, however, had ceased to breathe and their fingers stiffened within Brax’s hold.

“I...apologize, s--, Captain.”

“No need.”

Brax dabbed ointment generously into a welt, a rare unbroken patch of wrist-skin rubbed to blister, as they elaborated in the same low, steady tone.

“I have to inform almost everyone that I am genderfluid, since I present as pretty masculine. I go by ‘they’. Being referred to as ‘he’ is fine, it only bothers me if those are the only pronouns someone calls me.”

Satisfied that infection had been successfully belayed, Brax wiped the ointment off their hands and began

tilting their head as they scrutinized the agent’s flat demeanor for cracks, shadows, flickers - searching for any hint of what was going on in their head.

“What about you?”

There was the bewilderment again, the agent pausing, likely weighing their response, stiffening as they finally spoke, somehow quieter and more measured than before.

“...I apologize, Captain. I...I...don’t understand.”

“I’m asking what pronouns you prefer for yourself.”

The agent’s chest rose, fell, rose and fell quicker as their proffered arms quivered, the creases flattened and deepening across their face in a waning struggle for neutrality. The body warred with itself before Brax’s eyes, some invisible cord of tension winding tighter as the agent seemed to scramble for an answer. 

Brax quickly thought of the agent’s name as they tried to belay any possible swell of panic by offering up solid bases - affirmation, instruction, guidance.

“Hey, Morja? It’s alright. There is no wrong answer here - just tell me your gender identity, alright.”

“...Yes, Captain. I...am a man.”

“Alright. So you prefer ‘he/him’?”

A quick nod.

“Alright.”

Plucking a bundle of gauze from the kit, Brax ignored the weight of the agent’s gaze on them as they unwound strips of material.

They had watched Morja. Now it was his turn to watch them.

“I understand that agents on your side are trained to be perfect. Perfectly obedient. Perfect killers. I’m sure you understand why I can’t be certain of what you say.”

Only once they began binding Morja’s wrists did they glance up from the softly trembling hands and catch those dark eyes head-on. They were sharp, affixed to Brax’s throat like lodestones, as his brow crinkled in thought. As Brax began tucking the edges of the bandages into the bindings, Morja spoke.

“Tyrus has been searching for a hidden data farm in New Athenian territory. It shows grids of border weaknesses here and to the West and it’s a high-value storage. It is low-security to disguise its importance. I can offer its location and optimal invasion strategy, Captain. I can offer this as proof.”

As Brax stood, gazing down at the agent, their senses were attuned to the utter submission of Morja’s posture, how his eyes were bright with caution, and though his hands still bore the faintest tremor, there was not a hint of deception.

Either he was telling the truth or Brax had never met a better liar.

“Alright. You can lower your arms, Morja.”

The man obeyed and the faint light showed his flat mask slip a fraction.

Brax barely had time to blink before Morja folded at the waist. Spreading his open palms flat, shuffling forward to press his head upon the ground. With his broad back bowed, his dark head brushing Brax’s boots, gauze-swathed hands unfurled as though in prayer, Morja was the perfect picture of supplication.

“Thank you...for your mercy, a-- Captain. Thank you.”

Well...alright.

Brax can process this: rituals of deference, kneeling, no eye contact.

Superior.

Still, a groveling enemy was not their idea of a good Saturday morning.

A wounded, terrified person at Brax’s feet, throwing away all he’d ever known for a change in heart.

A man who Brax had bandaged, thanking them for the mercy.  

“That’s, uh, alright. You’re alright. You can get up.”

Without looking to see how he responded, Brax strode to the door of the cell, rapping to be let out. When the blonde sergeant swung the door wide, her gaze slid balefully to the shadows behind Brax, eyes like icy chips in her clammy face. Her mouth was a small knot of fury. 

And just like that, Brax made their decision.

“I need a pair of cuffs and the car. He’s coming back to Base Forthill with me.”

Brax swung back to Morja, catching his dark head snap up suddenly, the neon light glinting at the whites of his widened eyes and limning his parted lips in the most blatant show of emotion Brax had yet seen.

Shadows of shock, relief, fear all flitted, swift and pale as moths across Morja’s face before fading away, leaving only the level mask settled staunchly in place.

Brax really hoped they wouldn’t regret this.

And yet, somehow, they didn’t think they would.

~       

i crave validation so tell me what you thought!!!

[american-satanxx]

Gave Your Heart to a Hurricane//Albert Bishop Ch 5

Author’s note: If you want to be tagged, let me know.

Taglist: @SOLLLARIS, @BOBASHEEBABY, @ANOTHERRENNELL, @NEVER-NEVERLAND

MASTERLIST

You're as Smooth as Tennessee Whiskey

You can cut the tension with a chainsaw.

Travis and Albert are sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen island. Both of them are glaring at each other as they nurse their battle wounds with frozen peas. The only sound we can hear is whatever Feedback Revival song that’s playing outside.

“So I learned something very important today.” Albert speaks, breaking the awkward silence between the three of us. 

“Yea was it that you shouldn’t fuck your Army brother’s sister?” Travis spits.

“No.” Albert replies before a smirk tugs on the corner of his lips as he looks over at me. “It’s to never, ever mess with Grace. She can definitely pack a punch.” He motions to the ice pack on my right hand. “Seriously babe, who taught you that perfect right hook?”

“Travis and several self defense teachers.” I chuckle before turning to my big brother. “Trav, we met on Lovelink, way before you introduced us. We already had feelings for each other when you “introduced” us at your little get together. You can ask us to turn off those feelings. I know both of us promised you something but we really do like each other. He’s the reason why I deleted the app. He’s the reason why I’m not going on dates with randos. This last month has been heaven. He’s really sweet and caring and makes me feel safe. Please understand that we didn’t do this to hurt you.”

Travis sighs. “When I taught you to punch, I never thought I would be on the receiving end of one.” He chuckles before turning towards Albert. “We took an oath to protect each other on the frontlines and I’ll respect that..to an extent. You break my sister’s heart, I’ll fucking kill you. And you know exactly how talented I am behind a gun.”

Albert smiles. “Honestly Trav, I’m currently more terrified of what your sister will do to me if I break her heart. But don’t worry about that. She’s definitely a girl worth fighting for.” He looks over at me lovingly and I can’t help but to blush. His look grows serious when he turns back to my brother. “I honestly didn’t know she was your sister when we matched. If I knew, I wouldn’t have kept talking to her.”

“All I’m asking is that you keep her heart safe.” Travis says, placing his bag of frozen peas on the counter. “She’s one of the most important people in my life and I’ll risk everything to keep her happy. Got that?”

“If I ever break her heart, I’ll be on the lookout for random sniper rifles.” Albert says. “Gotcha.”

Travis gives me a kiss on my temple before heading back out to the party, leaving me and Albert alone. “So, I’m sorry my brother punched you.” I walk over to him, standing between his legs. He puts down his bag of frozen carrots and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him. His hands rest on my ass, giving a little squeeze as a smile appears on his lips.

“Not the first time he punched him and probably not the last.” He states. “But you know something? You punching him in my defense was kinda hot. I’m a little turned on right now.” I just laugh as I playfully smack his chest. “Hey, I’m serious. Nothing is sexier than a girl that knows how to handle herself. And you, my dear, definitely know how to handle yourself.”

“Thank Travis for that, I suppose.” I tell him. “He’s the reason why I learned how to defend myself. He said it would make him feel better when he was away. He was always so used to fighting my battles for me...then something bad happened during his time at boot camp.”

“I remember he was pissed after a letter he got from his dad. He never mentioned what set him over the edge. But that was also the night he made us swear not to even look at his sister. What happened, Grace?”

I force a smile on my lips before wrapping my arms around his neck. “That’s a story for another time. Let’s go out there, have a few beers, eat a couple hot dogs. Then later we can go back to my place, since it’s closer and you can show me how turned on you really got when I punched my brother. Sounds good?”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He asks, seriously. 

“I know and I’ll tell you that story later, I promise. Army Brat’s honor.” I smile before pecking his lips. “I don’t want the story to ruin the mood, okay?”

He pulls me in for a passionate kiss; a kiss that tells me everything I need to know. A kiss that tells me Albert will protect me and keep me safe until his dying breath. A kiss that truly leaves me breathless when he pulls away. He rests his forehead on mine. “I know it’s only been a month since we truly started dating and only 24 hours since we made it official. But Grace, I love you. And I’ll make sure you know that each and every day. I’ll make sure those assholes in your past become a distant memory. I’ll show you exactly how a girl like you should be treated. Soldier’s promise…”

[capricornus-rex]

Hey I was wondering if you’d take a prompt where the reader is an ex-padawan who’s master died pretty early on in order 66, and was instead saved by a clone that removed his inhibitor chip. Then maybe they get separated, and years later when the reader is a crew member on the Mantis, they come across the clone again? How would the crew, especially Cal and Cere, react to meeting a friendly ex-soldier clone who’s close with the reader? Could you make it full of angst then fluff? Love your writing!

Hello there, Anon~! Sorry if you had to wait a bit because I took a break after writing the sequel fic (and then new JFO update came in the middle of it lol), hope you understand! Anyways, I hope you’ll enjoy this fic 🤗💖 Also, thank you! 🥰💕✨

“Old Friend, New Family”

Tags: Defected! Clone Trooper, Jedi Survivor! Reader, Order 66 Survivor

Also found in AO3

Next: Part 2 | Masterlist

1 of ?

HOURS BEFORE THE EXECUTION OF ORDER 66

A pair of Jedi Starfighters zoom back and forth in gracefully in the sky of Plardel—a peaceful planet in the Gorio system plagued by the vermin that are the Separatist and their droid army—cutting through clouds and leaving smoky trails in their wake. From a bird’s eye view, you and your Master, Zal Karos, watched the battle on the surface. It was only a matter of time when the two of you have arrived into the planet after departing from the Republic command ship, Ultimatum, flanked with a company of pilots to aid the aerial assault.

A hologram of the admiral in the Ultimatum crackled into both your comms.

“General Karos, the blockade has been cut!”

“Just in time for the relief convoy!” the Kel Dor responded enthusiastically.

“We better start cleaning house then, Master!” you chirped through your radio.

“I was about to say the same thing, my Padawan!”

Zal Karos began instructing you to already engage in the standard operating procedure for the ejection sequence, programming your own astromech droids to override the ship and activate auto-pilot, flying lower and closer to the surface.

“Get ready to eject, [y/n]!” Master Karos radioed you through your ship’s comms.

“Ready when you are, Master!”

You pulled the lever at the bottom side of your seat and sent yourself flying out of your own starfighter. Using your Jedi reflexes, your landing was smooth—the same goes for your Master—now you’ve caught yourself in the crossfire between the 89th Legion and the droid army keeping the capital city from you.

The troops drew the droids’ fire while you and Master Karos charged onward, keeping up with your own vanguard, aiding them at the same time. Battle droids of all types—B1 battle droids, droidekas, and super battle droids—poured out of the city.

Just how many are they keeping in there!?

You continued deflecting the projectiles of the lanky battle droids back and forth, advancing as you thinned the numbers of their frontlines together with your Master, the Kel Dor looked over his shoulder and beckoned the troops to break through.

“Onward, child!”

You wanted to show Zal Karos how much you have learned from him, you applied every technique from close contact to long range combat, you were side-to-side with your Master. He saw that you’ve become more skilled with the lightsaber than before.

“Keep it up, [y/n]!”

“The Jedi have breached the city gates!” one battle droid reported through its built-in commlink but wasn’t able to request reinforcements in time. Your lightsaber had severed it into half before it could do so.

Once broken through, Master Karos barked orders at a handful of troopers to secure the locals held hostage in the residential areas and the central business district.

“The rest of you, keep pressing on!” the Kel Dor barked through his mask. He then turns to you, softening his commander-like bark into his normal voice while retaining that firm tone. “We’re heading straight to the Prime Minister’s Palace, child. That’s where the Separatist leader will be. Be ready!”

“Yes, Master!”

More battle droids marched to your general direction and there was no other alternative but to fight. Their numbers are significantly smaller, although they have deployed more super battle droids than the generic ones, the opposition was also accompanied by walkers.

Normally, your side would be overwhelmed as you’re only accompanied by ARC troopers and regular troopers.

“We’re outgunned!” a trooper, faceless in the crowd, cried in despair.

“Not if I have anything to say about that!”

Using the Force, you carried a metal beam large enough to sweep-kick the walkers off their feet—consequently crushing the droids in its path and thinning the herd altogether.

“Exemplary thinking, young Padawan!” Karos commended.

You smiled back at him as thanks and with the big problem out of the picture, the tables have turned for the droid army. The sniper troopers have finally reached their vantage points in the ruins of the city and took down the droids as the army cut through. Eventually, you’ve reached the Minister’s Palace and arrested the Neimoidian Separatist leader after taking down his small dispatch of guards outside the office.

Although you’ve secured the Palace and rescued the hostages, resulting to this campaign’s victory, something doesn’t feel right. The master and apprentice stayed in the office room watching LAAT gunships filled with reinforcements and medical support arrive.

“I sense there is something troubling you, Padawan [y/n].”

“I’m sorry, Master. I’ve been sensing something since this morning, though I can’t exactly say what it is—it feels ominous,” you shake off the thought. “I’m sorry again, that is quite pessimistic of me to say.”

“Not at all, child. Likewise, I thought I was the only one having that sort of feeling. The Force is unpredictable, but never mischievous,”

“Something tells me there’s a gloom lingering about this victory, Master,”

“You have become more insightful of your feelings and visions of late, Padawan. It seems to be serving you well. Not many have reached that point, especially in your age. I don’t think you should be apologetic about it.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I strongly believe it is. To see beyond plain sight and looking ahead are vital aspects of a Jedi’s wisdom.”

A smile played along in your face, even through your master’s mask, you can feel the warmth of his compassion for you. The master and his apprentice continue to watch the gunships dot the sky as they approach the city. From behind, the office door could be heard opening, a clone and his commander let themselves in.

“General Karos, the reinforcements have arrived for the troopers and the refugees. We’re just conducting a clean sweep of the palace in case of any stragglers—whether droid or Separatist.” Reported the commander.

“I leave it in your capable hands, Commander Pollux.”

“Thank you sir, this is another victory of the Republic!”

“Hey kid,” the Clone Trooper called. “Nice fighting out there!”

“Thanks Wade!” you beamed.

Wade dismissed himself out of the room whilst Commander Pollux remained in the room, he was Karos’s guard after all. Meanwhile, you and the master began conversing on the subject of the supply convoy.

“Do you think there are enough for the refugees?”

“About ten transports are deployed, I think it will be more than enough for the—agh!”

Suddenly, the demeanor of your master fumbled, he back hunched as he pinched the space between his brows, fighting back a burdening sensation in his head.

“Master!” you cried out, startled with his abrupt disoriented state. “Are you hurt?”

Within Commander Pollux’s earshot, his holodisk beeped. Upon answering, a cloaked figure crackled into existence.

“The time has come. Execute Order 66!”

“It will be done, my lord.”

“Padawan… there’s something… wrong…” the Kel Dor struggled to speak.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Command Pollux raising his rifle right at Karos’s heart.

“Pollux, what are you doing!? NO… WAIT!!!”

Albeit weakened by the violent pain in his head, the Kel Dor’s Jedi reflexes never betrayed him. He banked the shot from Commander Pollux’s blaster, killing the clone in the process. Everything happened so fast you didn’t even know what to make of it. From the other side of the door, the clones’ distant voices echoed across the corridors of the palace. Karos glanced once more at the office window and found your Starfighters sitting by the recently-arrived LAAT.

“Master! Pollux… he…!”

“There’s no time, child. Get ready to fight!”

Drowned in your own confusion, you don’t know where to put your finger on it. Relying your master and him alone, you did as you were told—you ignited your lightsabers in unison, Karos counted to three before opening the door.

One…

“The Jedi are in there!”

Two…

“They’re both trapped in the office!”

Three!

[matsumi101]

Who is this Kid?

Crossdressing Fem!Reader Hamilton Insert

Secret

Description:

General Washington has been relentlessly receiving letters one after another that has been requesting two same things over and over again. It’s high time he confronts the writer directly about it, and maybe clear something that he’s been hearing around while he’s at it.

———————————

Warnings: swearing, drinking

———————————

Notes:

> Masterlist

> Read from the beginning.

> “F/N” means fake name and “Y/N” means your real first name

> I don’t think I warned y’all before but I wasn’t really planning on writing chronologically. I’m not sorry lmao

> Surprise Wednesday update! I’ve been reading the rb tags and the replies you guys keep leaving in my story and honestly it makes my heart go 💞 aaa ily guys sm and im glad you’re enjoying the story 🥺🥺🥺

———————————

Taglist (if u wanna be added do tell!)

@thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth  @cutie1365 @girlmadeofivory @i-honestly-dont-know-anymore  @takemyhand-bitch @hamiltrashqueer​

———————————

“Hey, Juggernaut.”

You adjusted your coat before pulling your tent open. “Yo,” you greeted quietly to the soldier waiting in front of your tent. “General Washington calls for you,” he informed you. You nodded and ducked out of your tent, not wanting to wait another second to know what your superior wanted to talk about. You walked at a brisk pace, never stopping until you were now in front of the tent that was noticeably larger than the rest.

You swallowed thickly, millions of possibilities running in your head to as why you were called. A big part of you hoped that it was with regards to your plans, though there was a smaller bit of you that feared that it might be of something else. Not wanting to keep yourself on edge any further, you pushed the tent open and let yourself in.

"Your excellency, sir. You asked to see me?"

You readily saluted at the presence of not only George Washington but the aide-de-camps and officers that were with him as well. They circled a table, where a map and a few mock pieces were laid out for them to view and move around. While John and Lafayette's eyes twinkled with recognition, the others simply stared at your arrival. "Private F/N L/N?" George assumed. He motioned you to be at ease, which you silently obeyed.

"Yes, sir," you confirmed with a steady voice.

George quickly dismissed the rest of the people out of the tent, the only ones remaining were you, him, and Alexander who was busy writing something at his desk at the corner. “I’ve been reading your letters,” George began, moving to get something from his main desk. You immediately tensed as he pulled out a small stack of envelopes underneath. You kept your lips sealed, waiting for the General’s input on your requests.

“You’ve been asking to have the same thing approved for years now,” he began, “and recently, you’re asking for a rather unique position in your unit, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

From the corner of your eyes you could see Alexander perk up slightly at the conversation. He subtly glanced up from his work, his eyes falling on George as the general picked up an open letter that had been lying on his desk. “Let’s talk about the first one,” George announced. “I’ve noticed there was a slight change with your offer.” You licked the bottom of your lips out of nervousness, fiddling with your hands behind you.

“Unfortunately, even I can’t agree to it.”

“If I may sir, why not?”

George looked up from the letter to you. “Women cannot be paid to study, son,” he explained plainly. You tilted your head the slightest, confusion from his statement evident. “Sir, I do not seek for women to be paid to be taught basic medicinal procedures,” you murmured, and that was enough for George to mirror your expression.

“That doesn’t seem to be the message I’m getting from your letter, L/N.”

You opened your mouth to counter, but when a vague memory hit you like a punch in the gut, you couldn’t help but to smack your forehead in realization. “Shit, I am so sorry,” you apologized, the annoyance woven in your voice directed to yourself more than anything. George furrowed his brows at your sudden drop of formality, noticing how you were cursing under your breath as you returned to position.

“I must’ve sent you my draft letter instead of the actual one. The pay that I mentioned in the letter refers to the pay of the nurses, not the education that I wish to be provided to them.”

Your face turned to more of an embarrassed one. “I... might’ve written this late at night so my thoughts merged while I was writing,” you confessed, looking down at the ground. “I apologize for causing a misunderstanding. Writing... has never really been my best suit.” You could feel the back of your neck heat up with embarrassment, and the blood was slowly creeping its way to your cheeks the more you dwelled on your mistake. George huffed, and you could’ve sworn there was laughter that came along with it.

“We have our own weaknesses, son,” he said. “Rewrite your statement, then I’ll have it sent to the Congress for approval. Hamilton.”

“Yes, sir?”

The called man straightened from his seat almost instantaneously. “If you’re not too busy, you can help Private L/N draft his proposal to the Congress tonight?” he requested. You looked at Alexander almost the same time he looked at you. “I take it you approve of his plans, sir?” he asked George, though it came off more of a statement than a question.

“Yes. If our nurses are given the same pay as our male doctors, or at the very least raise it, then there wouldn’t be any need for our officers to resort to... violent methods of recruiting them.”

Your jaw visibly clenched at the last few words, and George wasn’t dense to not notice it. “If we treat our camp followers properly, as we should’ve been since square one, then they wouldn’t be working out of spite or fear,” you pointed out through gritted teeth, “and by teaching them the required medical procedures to treating our wounded, then there would be more hands on our medical team without really hiring more hands.” Alexander nearly beamed at your words and hurriedly wrote something down on a spare piece of paper.

“That’s an excellent point F/N, I’ll make sure to include that in your proposal,” he announced eagerly.

You stared at Alexander with surprise while George chuckled in amusement. “Now, since we’ve cleared all misunderstandings for your first request, I take it we’re good to move on to the next one?” his voice wasn’t as light as when he brought up your first request. “Ready as I’ll ever be, sir,” you replied. George nodded, pulling a different letter.

“Private L/N, I’m sure you already know the contents of your own letters, so I will say right now that I just can’t approve you to a... what is this term you used?”

“Field medic, sir.”

“Right.”

“Field medic?”

Alexander wasn’t really supposed to be a part of the next conversation, but he couldn’t help but inquire about the strange new term he just heard. “Basically a doctor soldier tasked specifically to treat wounded men while on field and pull them out of there,” George explained, and you nodded. Alexander’s face contorted, and you sighed internally as it was the response you already expected to get from someone hearing your concept for the first time.

“I... I don’t get it,” Alexander murmured. “We can bring our men to the backlines just fine during combat, I don’t see the point of having a person to specialize in that.”

You were just about ready to explain, but then George put up his hand to stop you. “I can hand you Private L/N’s letters of proposal for later, son,” George reasoned. Alexander’s face fell, and the man buried his face back to his work. “With all due respect sir, I feel like I am fully capable of putting this concept into action. My endurance is beyond average to run around the field and carry our wounded, all I need left is some proper first-aid training.”

“And we need your endurance in the frontlines!” George retorted. “Juggernaut, you’re our best foot soldier, I cannot afford to send you to the medics.”

You nearly physically recoiled at the use of your nickname. You wore the title “Juggernaut” with pride ever since, and George knew. Your tendency to almost never use your gunpowder and instead resort to close combat was what earned you the nickname, and your commanders made sure to utilize you best for that. Simply put, your fearlessness to be up close with the redcoats was something praised by your fellow soldiers and feared by the enemy.

“Sir,” your voice dropped low. “Many men die bleeding out in the field when they could’ve lived if only someone had been there to pull them out, but the second they’re crippled they are not our standing soldiers’ priority. Moreover, many more die in the tents simply for having infected wounds that could’ve been survivable had someone treated it long before. These men have hopes of coming home to see the end of this war and what follows as much as any of us, even while they lay in their own pool of blood as the rest of the fight ensues around them. Sir, they have lives they want to go back to, too, just like us.”

When you were done talking, the air within the tent was heavy. Was it out of realization or just the sheer weight of your words, no one was quite sure, but the tension was so thick no blade could cut through it. “I can see you are as adamant in saving lives as you are taking them,” George mused, finally breaking the suffocating silence that wrapped around the three of you. He glanced down at your letter, hesitancy clear as day. Between the two of you, it was the sixth one you sent for your proposed role. For every letter of declination he gave you, you rebutted with a new letter no more than two to three days later countering his reasonings. For someone who isn’t the best at writing, you do write a lot, he thought.

“Let my hands be stained saving the blood of my allies than spilling the blood of my enemies,” you responded, quoting your own letter.

George huffed, setting down the letter. “I will... think this through for the meantime,” he announced. You resisted your mouth that nearly quirked upwards at his words; consideration was a good enough sign for you. “Thank you sir,” you breathed. George eyed you carefully, thinking if there was anything else needed to be said to you. “I suppose that will be all for now,” he decided tentatively. He dismissed you, and just after you thanked him for his time and turned around was then he remembered.

“Hold on, Private. I feel like there’s one more thing needed to be discussed.”

You looked over your shoulder, almost fearfully, as you moved away from the tent’s exit. George leaned back, crossing his arms as he looked at you with a nearly blank stare. “I feel like we should address the secret circulating around you,” he pointed out. Your jaw dropped to the floor, a chill striking you from the feet up. A hand flew over your arm as goosebumps riddled your limbs, and you feared the worst.

“What secret, sir?” you asked, your voice nearly returning to normal with panic.

“Juggernaut, I don’t think we need to beat around the bush over this. Other soldiers have seen it, too, and you need to come clean with it.”

Other soldiers? The thought was everything but comforting. You always thought you had been discreet with your identity, but apparently you weren’t based on the General’s accusations. However, you kept your mind straight enough to keep droning on. Maybe it was just a mistake, maybe it was just a false rumor that was meant to drag you in the dirt. Yeah, maybe that’s it. You desperately wished that was it.

“It must be a mistake, sir. Whatever this secret may be must be just a measly rumor to throw me off,” you tried to reason out.

“Would it be considered a rumor if we have a witness?”

Your stomach dropped. So there are people who saw? That was definitely not right. You were always sure to have your corset on, only taking it off inside the tent, and whenever you bathe you made sure you were either alone or the last one out and never surfacing from the water. George glanced over to Alexander expectantly, and for the first time the secretary seemed to not want to partake in the conversation.

“Hamilton here has your verbatim.”

You could feel your palms turn sweatier as the seconds passed. You steadied your breathing, trying to calm yourself and stay reasonable. Alexander stared at George incredulously, as if he was the one who’d been ratted out by their superior. He looked over to you, and despite your seemingly calm stature there was nervousness in your eyes that spoke otherwise. Not wanting to lie, Alexander nodded almost apologetically to confirm. You felt your shoulders sag. Had you been too lax when you discussed about pretending with other disguised women? Or had you been too loud when you were rambling to yourself in your own tent? You feared what was next to follow, but if there was someone who bore evidence of your secret, then it was better for you to speak the truth.

“I apologize for deceiving you, sir,” you conceded, dropping your head. “I am more than willing to accept the punishment for my actions.”

“Funny, I figured you’d know enough the consequences of having more liquor than the daily rations you’re given.”

“Wh... what...?”

You tried to wrap your head around the new information. Liquor... daily rations... was that what General George Washington accusing you of this whole time? “Or is the excess whiskey your secret to your fearlessness after all?” George mused teasingly, and you shot up straight when it finally registered to you. “No sir, that would be my low sense of self-preservation,” you answered hurriedly, jokingly. Thankfully for you, George chuckled at your banter.

“Well, don’t think of dying too early, young man,” George advised lightheartedly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

The tight feeling that was mentally suffocating you the whole time released your entire being. “Though, if it’s any assurance, my stash of vodka hasn’t really been consumed,” you informed. “If anything, I think the only time I made use of it was when I disinfected someone’s wound.” George sat up straight, a curious look flashing in his eyes.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who’d you heal?”

You paused, wondering if you should really say. “It was Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens.” You glanced up, noticing the inquisitive look both George and Alexander held. “If it’s any compensation for my troubles, I can offer some of my personal beverage. Surely, you’d like a shot,” you then offered, swiftly dodging the questions that might’ve followed your prior statement.

“And how will I know this is not a ploy to try on my good side, son?”

“Was I on your bad side this whole time, sir?”

“With the direction your letters were going, you might be at the tipping point of being so with the Congress.”

You laughed uneasily. “Rest assured sir, my offer is all in good faith.” George uncovered the mug that rested on the edge of his table, and you took that as the sign to approach. You pulled out your flask, which had been refilled from the much larger bottle that you were hiding in your tent (you wondered if someone that visited your tent before saw the bottle which led to the accusations), and poured a hefty amount into the mug, much to George’s pleasure. You waved to Alexander with the flask. “Do you want some too, Hamilton?” you asked him. Alexander stared at your flask, then to George, and then to his papers.

“Come on, son. It’s not everyday we have a little extra liquor,” George insisted, a welcoming smile on his face.

Alexander didn’t hesitate to come over to the table the second he got George’s approval. He brought his own cup, and you readily poured him almost the same amount as George. “Thanks, I needed this,” he sighed gratefully, the strong scent already wafting through his nose. The three of you shared a toast, and you took a nice, long swig from your flask. A satisfied growl emitted from each of you, the burning sensation running down your throat.

“Well sir, I should head out now,” you said quietly.

George nodded, and finally dismissed you. “Call the others back on your way out,” he ordered, and you gave a verbal confirmation before pushing one of the tent flaps open. You peered outside and saw that Lafayette and John were talking nearby. You headed to them, waving a hand to catch their attention.

“F/N! The General didn’t chew you out too much, I hope?” John teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I got out alive,” you joked. “The General requests you guys and the other officials to return, by the way.” John chuckled, patting your shoulder as he passed by. Lafayette ruffled your hair before he and John headed out to look for the other officials that dispersed in the camp. You sighed and walked back to your tent, the clashing sensation of relief and anxiousness washing over you.

Your secret was safe... for now.

[moon-forest-princess]

An In-depth Elven perspective on Mind Power Subliminals (p2)

This is PART 2 of my post HERE. Please read that one first if you haven't!!

She goes on:

"...I am tired of people thinking this work is about subliminals. I do not give a s--t about the subliminal community or what they think of me. What I do is so far beyond this. That community is a pebble compared to the mountain I offer."

"I never even shared my magnum opus. The most powerful beautiful hybrid to exist. Affirmations are thousands of words long and the most beautiful affirmations ever written." "What kind of inspiration graces such a person? [...]They trashed me because they wanted an excuse to steal my work for their own. They wanted to tear me down so they could rise. They are not able to match my level of creation."

"I shall not ever make a subliminal again. This was a gift I was preparing to give. These humans showed me they did not deserve such a gift."

"You think you should be held at the same level as me? I am looking for generals, captains, and warriors. You first have prove yourself to me as soldier before you can be upgraded to a captain or general. I want to forge you to be among the most powerful in the cosmos."

"I won't give power away freely. I will test you and put you through the trials. You have to show me you are worthy. You want me to write a post to prove myself to you? It is you who needs to prove yourself to me! I have shown you who I am."

Hey, maybe I'm being a hypocrite for saying she can't gatekeep the Elven Path this way, while claiming she is not part of the Path herself... but it all comes down to one truth for me:

This is not Elven wisdom. This is not Elven love. All of what she said is just... arrogance--dare I say human arrogance--plain and simple.

And I am fairly certain she doesn't even identify as Elven herself, she is just speaking for us.

But it's bullying and arrogance under the guise of 'tough love'. As the old saying goes, you'll catch more flies with honey than vinegar... and all of her posts and interactions with others just reek of vinegar. She was trying to vet her followers by being as offensive as possible, to find those who she could make the most promising of lemmings out of.

I am trying my best not to sit here and armchair diagnose her, but I will say this reminds me of a narc's rage fit. The temper tantrum they throw when no one wants to take the bait and follow them into their highly decorated cave. We are all foolish idiots and ungrateful peons who are ~ jUsT jEaLoUs ~ for not accepting their bait gift.

The very phrase "I won't give power away freely" goes against the nature of the Elven Light Path. It is not a lineage of power passed down from a great Elven leader to their followers. It is a journey unique to each who walk it. We are here to inspire others to find their power within themselves and Light inside of them. We are not able to "give away" any power of this sense because we are not the makers of our power, we are the wielders of it. And that goes for any human person on this earth, in this universe, no matter what your soul connects to. No one is above or below another. We all hold the same amount of power. It is simply a matter of claiming and wielding it. But NO ONE can give it away or grant it to someone else. We simply are to share our gifts and inspire others to do the same. It doesn't mean life will be all sunshine and rainbows, or to ignore the bad things that happen.. quite the contrary. It means we focus on the darkness to bring in the Light.

And we do this with the powers we can give away. The power to inspire and encourage and give hope. To heal. Or to warn and help others understand. These are the gifts we are given to give away, but these are not the powers she is talking about.

She talks about making soldiers or warriors out of her listeners/users quite a lot.

"Not all warriors are equal. Not all beings are equal in power. You have to work for what you become." "I am exactly what is needed to prepare us and get us through what is to come. I fight alongside my warriors. I lead the charge into enemy lines. You have yet to see the full power of my wrath."

Seeing herself as a the General and commander of it all, of course. But what she seems to fail to understand is that while yes, not all warriors ARE equal, that doesn't mean they have less power. It just means they hold a different type of power.

I am one who she would probably call a weakling. I am a novice Priest, and a Lunar Elven Soul. But I do not fight the way she fights. I am not hardhearted or determined for justice a way a solider on the frontlines might be. The way that she describes a soldier to be.

The real war is not with flesh and bone. It is not a physical war that can be fought with rage and wrath against people here and now. It is a war that takes place in the spiritual. The mental. The emotional. The psychological.

It requires wisdom, kindness, love, compassion, empathy, a humble spirit and a servant's heart. It requires the ability and strength to not allow human conditioning of pride and power to cloud your mind. It requires knowing when to speak and when to hold your tongue. It is more akin to a chess match, not a game of tag.

Yes, an army needs foot soldiers who can directly combat the real world forces here against us... but to deny and discount the true war in the spiritual is a real red flag.

--

Alright. I've been rambling for a while now and I think I've made my point. Mind Power is a woman who took the concept of the Elven Light Path, as if she was speaking "for the Elves" and was using it as a way to...well, control others. Or attempt to. So the claims of her trying to control people? Not so far fetched.

She does not speak for us as Elves, for the non-human bodied Elves, or those who walk the Elven Light Path. If you have been drawn to the path, but stepped away out of fear because of her, I can assure you, that is not what this path, nor those who truly follow it are like. One can follow it alone, or walk it with friends. While we have shared experiences and are able to connect, the Elven Light Path is NOT a cult or exclusive club and should NEVER feel that way. If you are truly curious, I would suggest learning about it through the High Elven Wisdom and Love videos.

Anyway...

I am glad Asherah Aphrodite is far from the subliminal community and seems to stay out of the Elven Light community online as well (at least on Facebook and Youtube, from what I can see). Her Facebook group seems to still be up, and has a good number of members. I can only hope they realize the kind of person she is soon.

I know it's kind of old, stale news but I wanted to give my input because I wasn't around during the height of the drama surrounding her, and as someone familiar with both subliminals and the Elven Light Path, I felt compelled to give my perspective on it!

[may8344]

The Journey of a Forgotten Soldier (Levi x OC

Relationships:

Alana Frey (OC)Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Original Female Character(s)Levi Ackerman/Alana FreyFurlan Church/Original Character(s)Furlan Church/Alana Frey

Characters:

Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)Furlan ChurchIsabel MagnoliaAlana Frey (OC) - CharacterErwin SmithHange ZoëPetra RalGunther SchultzEld JinnOluo BozadoKeith ShadisSpecial Operations Squad | Squad Levi

Additional Tags:

Graphic Description of CorpsesBlood and InjuryViolenceMurder

Summary:

Alana Frey, a girl born in the Underground City, longed to see the true sunlight every morning that she would wake up. Alongside her comrades: Furlan Church, Isabel Magnolia, and Levi, Alana’s life as a thug continued with no way around it; until the sudden day she and her companions were offered the deal of a lifetime.

“Once you complete this job, not only will you be generously compensated for your work,

but you will also earn the right to live above ground.”

Word Count: 2.1k

---

Chapter 10: When It Rains, It Pours

Before the expedition beyond the walls, Erwin took it upon himself to teach the Scout’s about his new long-distance scouting formation. Each soldier was seated in a classroom, avidly listening. The blond squad leader hung up a poster with the formation drawing on it.

In the centre, there were three marks in a straight line showing where the wagons were to be located. It was encircled by the Cart Guard Teams. To its left and right, there were lines that consisted of inexperienced soldiers who were known as the Relay team. It was their job to shoot off flares bidirectionally to alert the soldiers around them. Finally, in a half circle around the front of the formation, there was the Vanguard who sighted and alerted the Commander of Titans.

Each soldier looked at it with awe, shocked to see such a formidable plan.

“Unlike previous surveys,” Erwin began, “this time the teams will spread out. The foremost objective is to strengthen our scouting ability. We’ll deploy soldiers at regular intervals at a distance that will ensure a clear view of all directions. We’ll advance while maintaining the greatest scouting and communication range.”

Furlan crossed his arms, a smile playing on his face. “I see, so the Vanguard becomes the eyes of the entire group.” In all honesty, he was very impressed by the idea. As a fellow strategist, he admired the thought put into the formation.

“By sharing information on the locations of Titans with the whole Corps, we’ll avoid as much contact as possible,” Erwin explained. “The primary method of communication will be these signal flares.” He lifted up a little metal mechanism. It’s shape reassembled a pistol. It had a round barrel, the end where you put the round cartridges that determined the color sent. The signal gun was simple, with a little wheel shaped part that worked as the hammer. Near the handle grip was the trigger. “Well judge the situation based on the color of the smoke.

“Of course, exceptions are inevitable, but most of the time the ones firing the flares will be the frontline scouting squads. The squad that spots a Titan will first shoot up a red signal flare. Neighboring squads will then confirm the color of the smoke and shoot up red signal flares towards the centre as quickly as possible. When it’s relayed to the centre, the command squad will change direction and fire a green signal flare to indicate the new direction for the entire formation.”

“I see,” Furlan nodded in his chair. “It’s far quicker than running around on horses to relay information.”

Although he sat at the edge of his seat, eager to learn more, Isabel tilted back her chair and prayed for the lesson to be over. She was not one for strategizing, nor taking in a lot of information. Alana tried to process the formation and plans, but most of it went over her head. Eventually, she gave up and laid her chin in her arms on the table.

Once Erwin finished explaining the formation, the quartet met back up with their squad leader and Sairam. They were in the barracks as Flagon began going over their spot in the plan. “Remember,” Flagon started, “the black flare is for emergencies. This is the only thing I hope we get back without using. We’ll be here.” He pointed to an area on the drawn map. “Second row, fourth position. Communications. While we’ll keep pace with the spare horses, our main role will be relaying messages.

“But no matter how good this formation is, we won’t necessarily get past all of the Titans. Just remember, we will be outside of the walls. Something could happen at any time. This squad in particular is lacking cohesion,” he added, glaring at the quartet. “But, we’re blessed with talented people.”

Isabel crossed her arms proudy, “Heh, damn right.”

“You won’t be laughing if you screw this up,” Flagon frowned. “Be careful and keep your eyes open.”

“Okay!” Isabel yelled, throwing her arms up in a cheer. “Let’s do it!”

“Hey, Isabel!” Sairam scolded. “Don’t think it’s going to be fine as long as you ‘do your best.’ Do you fully understand the nature of the situation?”

“Of course,” she fought back. “I mastered all the hard stuff during preliminary training.”

“All right, enough.” Flagon stopped the pair. “Now listen up. I don’t think the four of you know this, but truthfully, we in the Survey Corps aren’t in the best situation right now. Of course, the citizens whose taxes support us, keep a close eye on us. But because it’s so expensive to send the Survey Corps outside the walls we’re also under close scrutiny by the other military branches and even the interior.”

“Huh. So the military isn’t just one big family?” Furlan questioned.

“It’s because we haven’t produced very impressive results against the Titans yet. But one thing is certain.” Flagon gripped his fist in determination. “What happens with this new formation will also decide what happens to use in the future. We’ve got to make it succeed, and get to the next milestone!”

“Yes sir!” Isabel yelled, doing the military salute.

Furlan and Levi looked to her, surprised by the sudden change of heart. However, Alana frowned and looked down.

“What’s this, Magnolia?” Flagon questioned as he leaned in towards the redhead. “So you can do the proper salute after all! Please don’t embarrass me more than you already have."

Isabel looked down at her salute, shocking herself that she had done it off of instinct. Looking towards her three friends, she was met with silence.

[~]

As the moon began rising, more of the soldiers decided to finally fall asleep. The only four still awake were none other than Levi, Isabel, Furlan, and Alana. Levi sat on his bag, which acted like a pillow, deep in thought. The words of the people around him flooded his mind as he remembered the situation they were in.

“You Underground punks!”

“Everyone saw your fight. You’ve given them hope.”

“With you here, we’ll really be able to raise hell.”

“These guys think it’s worth dying for, don’t they?”

“I know you’ve spent your whole lives in a trash heap, but try to keep this place clean.”

“That is the face of a man who wants to kill me and escape.”

“Even so,” Furlan’s voice cut off Levi’s train of thought. “With such a complex formation, we’d be spotted just leaving the ranks. And considering the risk of disrupting the formation, maybe we should give up stealing the documents while we’re outside of the walls.” The blond propped himself from the ground on his elbows and looked up at Levi. “From the rear guard, where we’ll be, it’ll be almost impossible to reach Erwin’s location near the very front without being noticed by someone.”

“Four people would stand out,” Levi agreed.

Furlan leaned back again, arms behind his head on his pillow. “Anyway, we should focus on getting back alive. I mean… we’ve come all this way.”

Alana, who was laying on her side next to Furlan, nodded in agreement. “If we truly ended up killing him, then everything would go to hell real quick. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s a good soldier and a good fighter. He also seems to be quick minded. It’s not worth the chance right now.”

“I’m good with that too,” Isabel chimed in. She laid on her back on the opposite side of Levi, arms behind her head as well. “Of course the documents are important. But I don’t want to get in their way…”

“What the hell Isabel!? Were the cookies that good?” Furlan whisper-yelled.

“That’s not it, dumbass!” She responded, louder than she should be.

“Keep your voice down!” Alana quietly scolded.

“They were good, though,” she mumbled. “I just… I feel like I’m starting to get why these guys come out here. Going outside the walls, I mean. It’s like how we wanted to get up above, out of the Underground. Lots of my friends died in the Underground, dreaming of making it up there. Seeing them, I just felt like I had to get up there. It’s…”

“It’s like leaving the walls behind to kill the Titans,” Levi finished her thought.

“Yeah. Hey, Big Bro.” Isabel turned herself over and propped herself up on her elbows. “You might think this is weird, but talking to everyone today, it felt like they wanted them to go wild outside the walls again. Over and over again.” Her eyelids began drooping as she laid on her pillow. “When we all get to live in the royal capital, let’s take loads of stuff from them pigs, and use it to buy useless junk. That’ll… show them…” After that, she dozed off.

Alana frowned. “She’s getting too serious about this. Soon, she won’t want to follow through.”

“Good grief,” Furlan sighed, rubbing his head. “I’ve got to revise our plan. We’ll need to steal the documents before she starts seriously talking about ‘dedicating our hearts’ or whatever.”

[~]

Once daybreak came, the scouts rushed ahead on their horses.

“All squads deploy the long-distance scouting formation!” Erwin commanded.

Each soldier maneuvered their horse to their dedicated spot, each doing their respective jobs. It hadn’t been long before a red smoke signal was shot into the air on the right side of the Vanguard. Following it, two more were shot off to warn the centre.

Erwin took notice right away as he shot off a green flare in the opposite direction. The relay team confirmed the color and shot off their own green flare, mirroring the angle.

“It’s a brilliant idea,” Levi commented, “for so many units to act like just one living creature.”

“Hmm… Section Commander Erwin really is something,” Furlan agreed. “It looks like the rear guard will make it to the next supply point without so much as seeing a Titan.”

“We’ve changed direction fourteen times already.” Isabel counted on her fingers. “So there were fourteen Titans? More than I thought there would be.”

“It just means, if we stop, it’s all over.”

In the front of the Vanguard, Commander Shadis’ eyes were set on the dark clouds above. “Have you noticed, Erwin?”

“Yes,” Erwin responded calmly, “those clouds don’t look good.”

Before they knew it, the dark clouds formed quickly above the entire formation. Soon enough, rain began pouring from the sky. Fog and rain covered the plains to the point where nothing three feet ahead was visible.

Commander Shadis began to panic. “We’ll lose contact with the other squads like this! Let’s close formation at once!” He commanded Erwin. Turning back to face forwards, he tried to keep his eyes open. “What the hell is this…? For the weather to turn this bad on our first test run…”

Erwin launched a flare into the air, but it was rained out. “The flares won’t work in this…”

Every squad in the formation began to panic. There were no sights of smoke flares, and it was hard to see any other squads nearby. Unlucky enough for them, a heavy fog began to rise from the ground, covering the ground in a mist-like substance.

“Commander, unfortunately, we can no longer scout ahead. We should expect a Titan encounter at any moment.” Erwin notified his commander.

“Damn, it’s a downpour!” Furlan yelled while holding an arm above his eyes, trying to shield them. “Shit, I can’t see anything!”

“Hey, don’t break the ranks! Everyone stick together!” Flagon screamed to his squad, but to no avail. His voice was getting drowned out by the intensity of the rain.

“I can't hear a thing!” Isabel whined while covering her eyes.

“Isabel! Lana! Furlan! Don’t get separated!” Levi shouted. Although when he turned around, he was only able to spot two of his three friends. “Where’s Alana!?”

“Lana!” Furlan shouted, surprised that she had gone missing. He looked all around him to find the raven haired girl. Although he was able to secure the sight of Levi and Isabel next to him, Alana was nowhere to be seen. “Lana, where are you!?”

“Lana!” Isabel screamed. “Stop yelling, you two.” Levi slowed his pace slightly and rode in between them. “It’ll attract the Titans. Let’s assume she stuck with the squad leader. Right now, all we can do is keep going.”

Isabel hollered back to her two companions, “But we’re completely off course!”

“We’ve got no choice but to keep going like this. We shouldn’t be too far from the guys in the squad. If we want to meet with them, we’ve got no choice but to pray that the fog clears up quickly, rather than blindly changing course,” Furlan answered as calmly as possible. While he seemed to be dealing with this level headedly, he was internally panicking at the idea of Alana being missing.

---

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 

[buckyownsmyheart]

Duty [2/12]

CHAPTER 2: Redefining Techno

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Language and sexual tension. Accidental fondling

Series Summary: Ex-army doctor, and now on-mission-for-the-Avengers doctor, Major (Y/n) (Y/l/n), had prepared herself for anything. That was, of course, until she met a devastatingly charming Sergeant from Brooklyn with a quick wit and a kind smile. I wonder what will happen.

A/N: I love this poem, it had a massive influence on this story and is very similar to the reader’s mindset in this one! Thanks for all the love on Ch. 1, hope you enjoy this one as much x

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

You and Bucky circled each other. You had hoped you would throw him off with your left-handed southpaw stance, but his face was unreadable. His crouching stance was near-perfect, and you were struggling to find a flaw in it. Or him for that matter.

“Did you know I boxed throughout University?” You teased, trying not to show your nerves, “Hope you’re ready to have you ass handed to you Barnes.”

“Did you know I’m a super-soldier?” He retaliated, “My ass is staying firmly where it is, Doc.”

You dove and dummied right, leading his hands from the centre before you jabbed him with your left for a quick body shot. He was too quick, and his right hand came down to parry your punch.

“Got to be quicker than that, Doc,” he smirked, “Every move you make is written all over your face.”

“I hope you’re not allergic to nuts,” sweat trickled down the back of your neck, “because I’m about to kick yours into your throat.”

His movements stalled and shock crossed his face, and you took your opportunity. Throwing your weight in his direction, putting him on the back foot, exactly where you wanted him. You didn’t even think when you jabbed at him. Left, left, right, duck, uppercut. Your uppercut missed as he swerved to the side, and you immediately stepped back on the defensive, not wanting to be too confident.

Your dog tags tinkled as you moved and Steve shouted, “She’s beating your ass, Barnes!” from outside the ring, before he walked out of the room, laughing heartily to himself. Bucky’s face contorted in irritation. Bouncing around on the balls of your feet, you gave him a wink, and he lunged at you.

This back and forth happened for a while, and you were knackered. Each of you got some good punches in, and whilst you’d like to say it was an even match, you knew Bucky was going easy on you. You would never admit it to his face, but you were grateful for that, because the full force of Bucky was sure to get you on the floor within seconds, and that went for more than just his boxing. 

“Alright, alright, I’m not sure I can go on much longer,” you panted. The leg you were putting your weight on was shaking, and the air you were breathing in felt uncomfortable in your lungs, giving a prickling sensation in your chest. “You win, I concede.”

“Well thank fuck for that,” Bucky grinned, “I’m about to collapse on my feet.” 

You both dropped your stances and flopped out of the ring. Well, you flopped, Bucky let himself down gracefully which annoyed you. How dare he look so put together when you might be dying. You sat with your back against the ring and gulped down some water, then offered him the bottle.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s lilt filled the gym, and you jumped out of your skin. “Mr. Barnes, Major (Y/l/n), you’re required in the briefing room.”

Bucky chuckled at your reaction, “Don’t worry, you get used to it, she’s quite comforting actually, a nice presence to have.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a crush, Sarge,” you chide, standing up. “Might want to put a lid on that, not having a physical form might put a slight damper on your relationship.”

He raised his eyebrows, “That’s all a relationship is to you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,”

-

In the briefing room, Tony Stark surveyed the seated team. “Lucky me, I get to take point on this one, even if some people think they’re better equipped.” Beside you, Steve bristled but said nothing. Tony continued, “Whilst the other team is working on everything related to Moonshine that they can find, we’re back to day-to-day fighting bad guys and keeping our very own New York safe as a pickle.”

You raised your hand tentatively, not sure whether it was the right thing to do, but it felt wrong to interrupt him mid-flow. Tony's eyes widened, “She’s polite, can we keep her?” He looked around, as if someone might answer him and then turned back to you. “You don’t have to raise your hand, interrupt me like everyone else, I’m used to it by now.”

“Right, sorry, I was just... uh,” you swallowed and tried to collect your thoughts to form a coherent sentence. “I appreciate the whole including me in the team and everything, but isn't it dangerous giving me all the information? Shouldn’t it be a need-to-know-basis? In case I get captured or something.” You met Tony’s gaze, but it was Steve that spoke,

“I’m afraid we’re going to be needing you on the frontlines Major. The missions change so frequently nowadays that it’s easier to have you working each case with us.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Tony continued, “We know your qualifications, I have a feeling you’ll be fine.” You closed your mouth, not trusting any sound you might make to be vaguely human as nerves danced up your throat. And the briefing started.

“So, there’s a new tech dealer in town. Apparently, they’ve been getting their hands on my designs and recreating them, which just makes things personal. They’re under the EAG Casino on 36th street, meaning that we’re going to have to go in both as guests and a tactical team to assess the situation and take it down. Also, it would be great if a shoot-out didn’t occur. I made a promise to the manager.”

“Oh my god,” you blurted out, “Am I going to have to wear lycra? Because me and lycra disagree on so many points.” As everyone’s eyes turned to you, your cheeks heated up and you sunk a little lower in your seat. Okay, maybe that wasn’t the most important thing right now.

To your relief, Tony laughed. “Don’t worry Doc, I can reassure you the tactical gear isn’t lycra.” You nodded dimly and resting your hands on your hot cheeks, trying to cool them a little. Luckily, Tony continued, “I���ll be on the floor with Romanoff, Pete and Sam, and then dealing with the baddies is Steve, Barnes and Wanda. Doc I need you in with the tact team in case of injuries. Those on the floor are driving in for 2130, Pete you’re a waiter so need to be there an hour earlier for an introduction. The tact team need to enter via the backdoor that the kid will open at approximately 2145, and then go down the elevator shaft looking at the blueprints. Their thugs guard the rest.”

Tony flicked some more holograms around the room, “I’ve upgraded suits and added a whole load of new tech, just to show them who’s boss. Any questions? Nope? Good, get out of here.” 

Apparently, no-one ever waited for an answer to that question, which was unfortunate as you had so many questions buzzing around your head. 

You felt flustered and your mind was unsettled. It might have been the nerves, but also the fact that apprehending a tech dealer was just another day for these guys, whereas you had never done anything like this before.

Before everyone had left, Steve grabbed your attention, “Want to come with us to check out the new suits? We can go through the plan of attack at the same time, more efficient.” 

“What about a coffee first hey Stevie?” Wanda laughed gently, intertwining her arm into yours. A mellow feeling filled you as soon as her arm touched yours. Perhaps she had sensed how overwhelmed you were. You knew what you signed up for, but to be in the missions, alongside these famous heroes, and to be treated as one of them, was pretty difficult to prepare for. 

“Yeah, think a coffee might be good,” You smiled gratefully at Wanda, 

“We’ll meet you down there!” She called back, and she led you away from the group.

Once you got to the kitchen, she surrounded two mugs in swirling red mist, and placed one of the steaming mugs in front of you. As you brought it to your lips, a mild flowery taste surprised you.

“Chamomile tea?” You looked up at Wanda, questioning.

“My people believe that the earth smell brings you back down. It allows its serenity to inhabit the parts of the brain that the stresses emanate from.” She smiled, taking a sip from her own mug, “But also it’s pretty calming.” She added after a thought, amusement glinting in her eye.

“Thanks, Wanda, I appreciate it.” Hoping your voice conveyed your gratitude, and that she knew you didn’t just mean for the warm tea. But then again, you were in a room with a telepath. You leant on the side of the counter and cradled the mug, letting the warmth seep into your hands and slow your thoughts. You took a deep breath in and sighed heavily. Opening your eyes, you met Wanda’s peaceful ones. 

“You’ll get used to it,” she said softly. “They’re intimidating, frightening and often downright terrifying, but we’re also one big stupid family that has movie nights on Wednesdays and goes paintballing once a month. We’re with you. Always.”

You contemplated your words before answering, swirling the remaining tea at the bottom of your cup, “It’s not just that I’m worried about.” You swallowed a lump that was forming in your throat and staring intently at the tea leaf remnants swirling at the bottom of the tea. “New beginnings in my line often lead to the same ending. And I can’t help but assume the same fate will come to those beginnings.”

“Death comes to us all in the end, you prevent it far more than you cause it.”

“I know, but it’s a battle that I will be constantly fighting, always have done, always will do.” You feigned a smile and finished your tea before turning back to Wanda, “Didn’t peg you as a Harry Potter fan though, don’t think I didn’t recognise that quote.” 

She gave you a grin, “Who isn’t?” Placing her own mug down on the side, “Come on, let’s go see those suits before Tony has another heart attack from over-excitement.”

“He can at least wait to have a heart attack until I’m there, it’s only fair,” You chuckled.

-

Once you were alone down in the basement, you stood in the mirror, looking at your new suit in awe. You were badass in your tactical gear. You had a backpack that clipped in for all your medical supplies, two sheaths for knives on either thigh and one more in your boot. The thick soles of your shoes felt as light as feather, as if your feet were covered in foam. There was nothing like a new outfit, and one that made you feel this confident and was this comfortable was not something that you often came across. Today was going to be a good day. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., please can you play ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’ by Queen?”

“I’m not an Alexa, Major.” But despite her protestations, the unmistakeable twanging’s of the introduction filled the room, and you couldn’t help but move your feet. This had always been your dancing around the kitchen song. You bounced around the room and sang aloud, grateful for the soundproof walls, because your singing was closer to a screeching cat than, well, singing. Unfortunately, your singing was also both loud and terrible enough to mask the sound of someone else entering the room.

“Remind me to never ask you for a serenade.”

You whirled around, and of course Bucky Barnes would be the one person to walk in. You froze, “Alexa, please pause the music.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.” the room responded.

“Alexa, please pause the F.R.I.D.A.Y.” You then hesitated, grabbing your hoodie and shoving it over your gear, “I was- uh… testing it out?”

“Looked like it.” He sounded smug.

You stuck a finger in his chest, “Tell anyone about this moment, and I will rearrange your organs.”

“We’re sorting out the plan upstairs if you’re not too uh…” He gestured around him, “Busy.”

You grabbed your knives, placing them pointedly into your gear, and picking up another one for effect. You stalked past him, narrowing your eyes at him before heading up to the briefing room where Steve and Wanda were already waiting.

-

You looked down at your watch, 21:43, Tony’s voice filled your ear,

“How are you feeling on your first mission, Doc?”

“I’ll tell you what, I’m fucking James Bond. Daniel Craig better watch his ass.” This earned you a few chuckles. You felt like him though. Your new suit was featherlight, the familiar and comforting weight of a rifle in your arms and some new medical kit strapped to your back. Your contacts had the vitals of everyone you looked at written in a column on the side. Their heartrate, blood pressure, respiratory rate, haemoglobin levels. You weren’t sure at all how it knew all that, but you didn’t care, as long as it worked. 

The opening of a door in front of you brought you back to reality as Peter signalled you inside. He looked flustered, and his heart rate was alarmingly high.

“Please could you be quick? I’m so bad at waitering, they’re about to fire me on the spot. I can’t do anything right, it’s all so confusing and there are so many things to remember.”

“Aren’t you meant to be in one of the most prestigious high schools with a whole bunch of clever people?” Bucky asked, looking baffled, “And you’ve got powers?”

“Just because I have spidey sense, doesn’t mean I have common sense.”

Everyone laughed whilst moving past a slightly perplexed and bewildered Peter. It died out quickly, probably due to the nerves of the team that you could feel radiating in the air. The maintenance elevator shaft was just down the corridor on the left, and everyone moved with silence. Once you got there, Bucky and Steve made quick work of opening the elevator doors. If you got slightly side-tracked checking them out, you wouldn’t dare tell another soul. 

To get to the bottom, Wanda would levitate down, manipulating air around her to accommodate her weight and easing her down. Bucky and Steve abseiled down, but your suit had spine-like projections that grabbed onto the holes and ridges, lowering you down gently. The best part about it was that you could just sit and do absolutely fuck-all as things whirred and clicked around you, it was weirdly relaxing. 

Once you hit the bottom and the bottom elevator doors were opened, you encountered your first layer of men. The four men were easily taken down by the rest of the team without you having to get involved, but you had your rifle up and ready for back-up if it was needed. The room that they were guarding seemed to be a large vault, with a wheel covering the breadth of the door. Bucky took out an object from one of his many pockets and placed it in the centre of the wheel where there was a keypad. It caused some clangs and ticks before the wheel spun around, leaving the door to swing open before you.

Inside the vault were tables filled with various tech. Some of it you recognised as Tony’s tech, including some thrusters that had been adapted into hand-held weapons. Sonic tasers designed to paralyse and incapacitate the enemy through a frequency. Some drones, a range of glasses that you assumed contained A.I.’s and photostatic veils from what you could recognise, but there must have been thousands of products here. The other oddity was that there was no-one in the room, or at least no-one that was reacting to their loud entry. Steve whispered into his comms, “Something doesn’t feel right, I’m deploying the bots.”

Having missed the gear-up brief by Tony, you were not prepared for three humanoid creatures to manifest from Cap’s shield, unfolding themselves and standing guard around you. The team started to move methodically around the place, starting in a line and breaking out, everyone on high alert. 

Tony spoke into the comms once again, “How we doing team footloose?” Before anyone could answer, a gravelly voice boomed throughout the room.

“In a room with so many explosives, don’t you think it’s a bit of a hazard flashing those guns around?” 

In front of you, Bucky’s face was a mix of surprise and anger. He motioned for the team to keep down. The bots were on high alert, scanning the room and spreading out to find the source of the voice. Without warning, a high-pitched screech filled the air, and you felt like your brain was being squeezed. You vision tunnelled and without realising you had dropped to the floor, and curled into a ball, your hands over your ears. 

At some point, the noise stopped but you couldn’t hear it over the ringing that remained in your ears. Someone had grabbed you and pulled you to your feet, but you were struggling to focus your vision. Trying to ground yourself, you focused on your surroundings. You felt the floor under your feet, a cold sweat forming on your forehead, a strong arm holding you upright, and as you came back to reality, you were aware of something against your throat. Uh-oh. You stiffened under the arm, realising that you were stuck in a situation. 

You caught sight of Wanda lying on the floor, some red mist angrily swirled around her fingers, but almost as if they were stuck behind an forcefield, unable to get past an invisible barrier. The bot nearest you had seemed to be dismantled, with parts scattered around. Bucky and Steve were looking at you, they had clearly recovered faster than you and were on high alert judging by their postures. That probably wasn’t a good sign. You looked down at the man’s arm holding you, and your contacts showed his vitals. His heart rate was high, but his blood pressure was normal, suggesting that if he was anxious, he had been anxious for longer than us being in the compound. 

You could vaguely hear Steve saying something patriotic, but it was amazing how quickly you had taken Sam’s advice and learnt to tune it out. Bucky, however, was looking at your face. You had a plan, but needed him to understand what it was, and so you went about trying to communicate it. Meeting his eye, you pointed to a pull-cord on your belt, and flicked your eyes down to it, trying to shift his attention. Luckily, he caught on, and nodded ever so slightly.

Whilst the man was distracted by Steve’s rousing speech, you swiftly pulled the cord down, initiating the mechanism. Stark’s nanotech moved to surround every inch of your body. Some tell-tale clacks took the man’s attention away from Steve, but it was too late. A clever mix of mirrors, cameras and projections had rendered you invisible. You dropped to the floor whilst the man was still in shock and rolled away from his ankles towards Bucky, tapping him gently on the foot, and staying absolutely still as to not appear as a shimmer. After your signal, Bucky shot the man in the forehead and he fell back, the look of surprise still mapped across his face, dead before he hit the floor. 

“Team footloose requesting clean-up team and someone to reclaim all of their tech,” Steve commanded into the tiny microphone before turning back to Bucky and a now rising Wanda, “Major? Where are you? You can turn back now.”

“Slight issue,” you stood up, feeling around your suit, “Not sure there’s an undo button.” 

Bucky reached out to try and help you, but he didn’t quite realise how close you were, and you yelped as he accidentally whacked you. “Ouch!” you squeaked, “That was my boob!” You then couldn’t help but laugh as Bucky stuttered out an apology and his face turned bright red. 

You placed a hand on his shoulder to let him know where you were, and fully seized this opportunity to admire every aspect of Bucky’s face as he looked around wildly, trying to find a glimmer or hint as to where you were. With the threat gone, you were feeling appreciative of the finer things in life. 

After the team had reconvened together and you were successfully restored to your normal physical presence, you found yourself very much ready for bed. It seemed being a hero was hard work.

Chapter 3

tags:

@broco8​ @nerd-without-a-cause​ @sebbbystaaan​ @cutiepiemimi13​  @velvetwonderbucky​ @mcubuckyandsteve 

[myfeetkeepdancing]

Unsustainable - (7/9)

!Disclaimer: I do NOT ship the people on the banner or any gifs showing up in the fanfic. They helped me visualize and are part of my writing experience. Much love for Tom Holland & Cody Christian!

Summary: An accident happened in which the reader has gotten powers. The reader is struggling to adjust to his new powers but also to keep them secret from Peter as they become closer.

Pairings: Peter Parker x Male Reader

Word count: 2169

Saturday morning. For what it's worth the friction from last night seemed out the air. Breakfast like a small little family, some small talk. Nothing special. But you can't help but notice Peter is happier, more content with himself. He's smiling more than often. You've always enjoyed his company, sometimes a bit too much. Is he running against the same barrier then you? Who's going to take the first step? Should you? The question keeps circling through your head. Overthinking every sentence like always. What could you have said differently? Would that have cracked the ice? After a gaming session on the console, you both decide to look for some new tinker parts. Scavenge some local alleyways, but first, check out the dump store. May was soon going out shopping, so a tagging along the ride wasn't a problem.

Arriving at the dump store, a list of items in hand and dollars in your pocket. Before entering you continue discussing the items on the list. Peter isn't someone who gets mad or annoyed if he didn't get his way. If you reasoned well enough, he'd let you take the lead. You, on the other hand, could get a bit grumpy for not getting your way. Not your best quality. A couple minutes go by, as you go over the most important items for now. Setting the priorities straight, you both enter. You both start digging through the boxes. Chatting up with the owner, Henry, you always got dibs on the new stuff and the usual discount. Behind the fence in the alleyway was his new stock, handing the key to Peter you continue talking with Henry. As a former electrician, you enjoyed his tips and tricks. Now old and retired, he runs one of the busier dump stores around the block. He gave you the old soldering station which it all started with. Sorting through the boxes, you gather some necessary parts and scrap when your eyes catch sight of the Raven. That feeling in the back of your head, that itch. Now familiar to you. "…Peter's in trouble…" Without glancing in its direction. You walk past the counter, pushing the parts onto the counter pacing quickly outside. "One moment." Turning straight into the alleyway you hear muffled sounds in the distance. Moving on your toes, you skid past the stone wall. The sound becoming clearer. "Who did it Parker!?"

 Halfway the alleyway opened up into a large square area. Beside the fenced off storage part from Henry's shop and some fuse boxes and air cons, it was like any other alleyway. Trash littered around the garbage bins and containers as the smell of decaying food and cat litter and piss stenches the area. Approaching the fence, you peek around the corner. In the pile of cardboard boxes lay Peter, his right eye socket swollen red. Towering over him stood Flash, beside him two of his friends. "I-I.. don’t know Flash! I-" Before Peter could say anything more Flash's foot connected right into Peter's stomach. Peter hunches back as he coughs and puffs, curling up on his side, afraid of more hits. Without a second thought, or weighing your options you walk right through the gate. Filled with anger and rage, you don't even try to hide your approach. The adrenaline pumping through your system. You barely notice your shaking hands. Now more than ever could you finally give Flash the beating he deserved. Doing that on school gets you in trouble. Now it was your turn. The last few steps towards him attracted attention from his buddies beside him. Retracting your balled up fist, knuckles white. Ready to bring it home. With one hand on Flash's shoulder and a firm pull, you turn him towards you. Losing his balance, tumbling back on one foot. "Y-…" Is the only response he's able to get out. With every muscle in your arm tensed to the max, you put every bit of force and weight into your hit. Lighting fast, your knuckles strike directly on the bridge of his nose. At least that's how it looked to you. Flash dropping straight to the floor. His hands clamped on his nose, screams of pain and anguish filled the alleyway. Between the screams of Flash and the stinging pain in your knuckles, his buddies got onto you. The bruised skin on your knuckles slowly bled as your fingers hurt from the impact. Maybe you didn't hit him at the right angle. A sudden force hits the side of your jaw. Followed by a blow to your knee, forcing you to the ground.

 You didn't see it coming. Your vision blurry, everything doubled. You struggle to get back on your feet, stumbling backward against the fence. Hanging against the fence, you see the vague contours of a figure speeding towards you. Seeing an object above him, you prepare for the impact. As soon as it hits, you charge forward, grabbing his torso and smashing him into a container. In a quick reflex, you step aside, his buddy hunched from the impact. Both hands on his back, you drive your knee deep into his stomach. A final moan sends him to the ground. The last one not taking its chances runs out. "You ok?" Peter's eyes are wide open as he nods while scrambling back up. Seeing Peter's good, you turn your attention to Flash. "F-Fu-u…" His body shudders as you approach. "I'm not done with you yet. You little fu-" You threaten. Dashing onto him, your anger getting the best of you. Punch after punch hit him in the face. Your fingers and knuckles starting to hurt, more blood gradually seep from your hands. His hands desperately trying to block your blows. Two hands pull you off him. "Enough! Let's go!" Falling on your side, you feel yourself being dragged away across the floor. Still managing the get a kick into Flash's side. Peter's arms wrap around your chest, struggling to get you back on your feet. "We should go…" Peter concludes, looking around worried.

 Getting back up on your feet, you smack right back into the fence. Sending a lot of noise through the alleyway. Peter darts to your side seeing you struggle. Your left leg hurts, you can hardly stand on it. Let alone walk. The blow to your knee must have bruised something. Clamping your arm around his neck, unwillingly you let all your weight rest upon him. Slowly you limp out of the alleyway. "Henry!" You call out. Pedestrians passing by glance at the both of you with worrying faces, limping out the alleyway like soldiers returning from the frontline. Seconds later Henry appears. "What the hell-“ The older man mummers through his lips. “I’m sorry for-“ You manage to get out. “We are…” Only to be corrected by Peter. You glance at Peter for a second, his cheeks bright red, panting heavily. “-sorry for the mess. Some lads from school were waiting for Peter. Got a bit rough.” You could see the doubt in Henry’s eyes. Thinking about what he was gonna say.  “Get in. I’ll call you guys a cab.” Limping past him, the silence in the alleyway was disturbed by wailing in the distance. “I see you got them good.” Turning around you see three figures storming out the other end. “Lesson learned.”

 “Nosebleeds are kinda your thing now eh…” Peter remarks with a quirky smile. Small red circles paint the stairs as your limp up towards the front door. You feel the warm blood stream through your nostril and fall down onto the stairs. “May!” A slight tremble sounded in Peter’s voice. It doesn’t take long before the door get swung open. “Guys! Wha-“ Before May could sound her worries Peter had already interrupted her. "(Y/N) beat Flash and his friends up. He got them good. They waited for me in the alleyway near the dump store." May didn't say anything for a moment, assessing the situation in front of her. "You're my hero (Y/N)." Helping you in with a content look on her face. Although May was a person, who disapproved violence, after an honest explanation she saw justice in your actions. Glad that Peter was ok. Glad you were there this time around. The fight was also a relief for yourself. Finally, that bottled up fury let loose. The grudge against Flash fulfilled. Pulling comfort from the thought Peter wouldn't get hit on again by Flash and his friends for some time made you and May happy. May wouldn't let you go home. Insisting you would stay and rest here. The knee itself was red and swollen. Moving it felt sore on the muscles but not that painful. Depending on how the leg was tomorrow May would drive you to the hospital if necessary. May thought though it would be for the best if dad at least knew. She tried to call dad, but the voicemail as usual. The rest of the day was spent on the couch. Completely stretched onto the couch, like you own the place. And no space left on the couch, Peter decides to rest on the floor. Right in front of you. You can't deny that it was somewhat challenging to keep your focus on the movie. Together with pizza, drinks, and movies, it was the perfect night. May even got beers for the occasion, she herself going out for the night. Not too much though she pressed. A promise easy to keep. But drinking just two was enough to become slightly tipsy and giggly. Playing with Peter's hair, pushing the cold beer into his neck. The usual pestering. Peter himself also being tipsy started playing along. And the inevitable while drinking. Taking a piss. Everyone has to after a beer. After the first one, there is no stopping it. Every five minutes, you gotta go. But with Peter supporting you limping to the toilet, and being tipsy was an adventure on its own. The door being just meters away, Peter kept forcing you the other way. You had no other way then obey and follow. Limping across the room, laughing and singing. Deliberately pushing your weight on his shoulder, making him pay for his joking around.

 Sunday morning. Slowly waking up you hear faint sounds coming from the kitchen. You slowly open your eyes and are surprised at the brightness. By this time of day, the curtains didn't hold back much light. You assume it's already later in the morning. You eyelids still feeling heavy, you sway back onto your side. Letting your eyes adjust to the light. Your eyes being drawn to the door, as it slowly opens. Your sleepy eyes make out the contours of Peter's face peeking around. "You awake?" You shake your head in denial. "Barely…" Rubbing your eyes with the palm of your hand. "Breakfast is ready."

"Gimme a minute." You groan and moan while stretching every inch of your body. Peter still watching you from the door. You move towards the edge of the bed, pushing the blankets aside. Sitting on the edge, legs dangling. The knee feeling a bit stiff but surprisingly better compared to yesterday. You feel a small summer breeze coming from the window, gently blowing past your legs and back. You give yourself some time, regaining your bearings. "Right…" Scaling the stairs of the bunk bed, you're eyes catch sight of Peter's bedsheets. His dark blue sheets pushed to one side, revealed a white duvet cover. His shorts thrown in there, phone with buds on top. [ 9:36 ] revealed the screen. But the screensaver caught you off guard. One of the selfies you took just before going on holiday. One of many that day. Do all friends this? Overthinking once again. Shaking the thoughts from your mind. You continue.

 Peter had disappeared behind the wooden door. Grabbing one of his oversized shirts you follow him into the living room, the smell of freshly baked croissants teasing your nose. Looking through the living room stood Peter, dressed in T-shirt with a chef's apron dangling from his neck. A towel thrown over one shoulder, the other supported by May's hand. "Good morning sunshine!" The dinner table dressed by a red and white tablecloth, colorful cups and plates sitting on top. "Good morning, you've been busy." You voice sounding a bit raspy. "Breakfast worthy of a hero like yourself." May replied. You can't help but smile at the sight of such a breakfast. They really put effort into it. Everything you can think of to start the day perfectly are there. And somehow the things you like are there. Including Peter. Pieces of fruit, cup of tea and warm croissant. Did you mention that to Peter sometime? Fresh from the oven croissants barely touch the plates as the three of you quietly enjoy the breakfast. "Compliments to the chef." You add, eyeing Peter in process. Sitting across Peter, you can't help notice the smile running across his face.

[thoughtsofdarc]

My latest mission...

A Hydra asset always obeys orders... Don’t they? 

Reader (Y/N), Alexander Pierce, mentioning of Steve and Bucky.  Warnings: A few swear words. Being an Hydra asset. Violence. Angst(?)  Words: 1615

The room is cold and hard, the light blinding and sharp, the table is a scratched and banged up steel table that looks like a butcher's workplace... Maybe it was at one point.  I'm slumped down in one of the only two chairs in the room staring at my own reflection in the big mirror- glass window, which surely hides a bunch of Hydra agents with guns, on the other side.

I know this interrogation room like the back of my hand... I've been here a million times.  People can stand on the other side of the window and listen in on the conversation, watching people in the room. But it can also be made soundproof and closed off. 

Behind me is an armed guard. He doesn't really have to be there though, I've always done what they told me to do, and I've never fought back. The perfect asset to Hydra... if it wasn't for the fact that my memory had come back to me slowly. But him being there tells me that they are afraid of me, of what I'm capable of.  Good, they should be afraid. I yawn and shift in my seat when the cold steel door suddenly opens with a screeching sound, which should make the hairs on everybody's neck stand up. Me? I don't flinch at all. Alexander Pierce, in person, walks in and the mirror-glass turns black. Now no one can hear us or watch us, our reflection in the glass is gone too. This means I'm going on an important mission, one that he can't afford fails.  I guess that's why he called on me. Since the winter soldier has disappeared, I'm his new go to girl. When shit gets ruff or a mission needs to succeed, I'm the one... I never fail. Of what I've heard, we would have been a good team, the winter soldier and I.  But they always kept us separated. Probably too scared that we would team up and fight them all. I'm sure we would win if we did.  But then he disappeared and now they only have me...  I never fail, I always do what I get told and I keep getting better and better at what I do.  That's why they haven't wiped me in ages, broken me down and fucked up my head. They don't want to start over.  And I'll keep doing my best for that not to happen again. Pierce looks me over with an unimpressed look on his face. "You look like shit Y/N! When is the last time you slept?" I interrupt him with a bored expression on my face "I'm fine". Pierce stares back with a condescending smirk, that prick, as he continues his rambling.  "We need you to be well rested y/n. We need you strong and alert so that you won't get killed on a mission or even worse fuck it all up! You understand that, right?"  he smiles at me, trying to sound like he cares. I just stare at him with a dead grimace on my face. "I asked you something!" Pierce yell. In the beat of a heart I stand up so quickly that my chair falls over. I grab the guards' gun, which he is now holding to my head. With one hand twisting it away from my body, my other hand slams into his elbow-joint making him let go of the gun. In one swift motion I twist the gun in the air, catching it at the grip, simultaneously releasing the magazine of bullets. As soon as I hear the click of the mag being released I turn, swing my arm around and hit the guard square on the side of his head with the back of the gun. It all happens before the magazine has reached the floor and I don't even miss a single beat of my heart.  The crunching sound of the guards' skull makes his eyes go wide before they turn upwards and only shows the white of his eyeballs. Then he hits the ground, knocked out cold. I inspect him for a while, watching his chest rise and fall slowly.  Good, he isn't dead... That means I won't get punished. I grab the back of the chair putting it back up, sit down and put the gun down on the table. I slide it towards Pierce with the same boring look painted in my eyes as I had just moments before, while I look straight into his  "I said, I was fine!" He obviously didn't think that I saw the almost nonexistent signal he gave to the guard, or heard the faint sound of said guard raising his gun to my head... But that's the thing, isn't it, I notice everything! "Very well y/n... I was just making sure that everything was alright!" He tries to sound unaffected, but I can see he is surprised, even a bit scared.  Good, he should be. "The mission..." Pierce continues, changing the subject "... I need to know, do you recognize this man?" He takes out a photo from a folder and slides it towards me on the table, just like I did with the gun before. Picking up the picture, I let my eyes fall to study it.  On the outside, I look as disinterested and impassive as always, but on the inside I'm screaming. The man on the photo is Captain America, Steve Rogers, my childhood best friend.  Him, Bucky and I was inseparable ever since we were kids and up until the day that they both joined the army.  I became a field nurse.  I didn't want to become a nurse, I wanted to join the men on the frontline, but they wouldn't let me... Wrong gender and all that shit. As a nurse I got as close to the battle as I could without actually being there.  Then they both disappeared, my friends, and I joined a search party to go look for them. If not for anything else, then just to bring home their bodies.  That's when Hydra got their nasty hands on me and started to experiment, making me forget my friends, forget myself and turning me into a weapon. And what a weapon I have become.  That was then, this is now, and I remember everything!  Seeing Steve's picture gives me hope. If I could be alive after all these years, so could he.  I slide the picture back to Pierce while shaking my head slowly "No. Should I?" He inspect my reaction for a second before he picks up the photo and put it back into the folder and throw it down on the table. "It's Captain America, he is your mission... You need to make him talk. He has our weapon, he has the Winter Soldier and we want him back. When he has told you where The Winter Soldier is, you kill that righteous patriotic bastard and go fetch back our weapon!"  Pierce looked angry by the fact that Captain America of all people was the one who held The Winter Soldier in custody. He points to the folder and says "You will find all the information we got in this file. And Y/n, I don't need to tell you what happens if you fail this mission, right?" The images of me being restrained in that God forsaken chair having my mind wiped again and even being put back into cryo makes my blood freeze, so to speak. "I won't fail" I take the folder with information from the table "I never fail". Pierce looks a bit annoyed but satisfied with my answer "Good, I'll have Rumlow escorting you on this mission" He walks back towards the door and grabs the handle to open it, but he freezes when I talk again. "I'm going alone!" my voice is low but harsh, letting Pierce know that I mean what I say. "I can't allow that Y/n. This mission is too important" he turns, crosses his arms over his chest and looks even more annoyed than before. "Exactly. That's why I'm going in alone... I don't need that troll to tag along and make everybody aware that we are coming"  It wasn't a secret that I dislike Rumlow.  He doesn't have high thoughts of me since I am a woman and he clearly thinks that he is my superior. More than once I have proved him wrong which has only made him dislike me even harder. Not that I care.  "Rumlow and The Captain have history, they know each other, I've heard the stories.  If I come near the Captain with Rumlow by my side, he will know something is up. You said it yourself, this mission is too important... I'm going in alone!" My look makes no room for discussion. Pierce thinks about my reasoning for a second before he agrees and says "I'll tell the team that you're going in alone. But you'll have to check in every three hours and you let us know the second you need backup, understood?" I scoff "When have I ever needed backup?" He looks mad, I'm getting on his nerves. I secretly enjoys that he is so easy to piss off, but I also know I shouldn't push him any further so I just roll my eyes and say "Fine, I understand" Satisfied he turn around again and leaves me alone in the cold interrogation room with the knocked out guard. I open the folder again to study the picture of Steve. A hope igniting inside me.  I'm not alone in this world, I can break free and now I just have to find my old friend...

Part 2

Did you like this? Let me know your thoughts here. I’ll love you forever

Want to be tagged? Let me know Here

[cutepresea]

3-4 Kimono Rumble: Protectors of the Country

Again, sorry for the spam.

If you want to blacklist these, you can use either the tag #kimono rumble for just this event, or #xdu event scripts for all these posts in general.

Reminder that these are copied straight from XD Unlimited itself, so any grammatical weirdness, mistranslations, and/or mischaracterizations are not my doing.

Chris Yukine: "We're here."

Kirika Akatsuki: "Pardon the intrusion."

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "The Harajuku Hills Ninjas have arrived!"

Chris Yukine: "Are you seriously talking about movies right now?"

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Uh oh. I need to keep it together. That goes for you too, Kiri-chan."

Kirika Akatsuki: "I am eternally grateful for your words of advice."

Chris Yukine: "Man, was that some intense training or what..."

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "We watched samurai movies for two days straight."

Kirika Akatsuki: "At least it taught us a lot about the Edo period."

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "That it did..."

Kirika Akatsuki: "Our next history test should be a breeze, though."

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "That test is on modern history, Kiri-chan."

Kirika Akatsuki: "You mean it's not on the Edo period?!"

Chris Yukine: "That Guardian course was all kinds of crazy."

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Tsubasa-san went out of her way to teach us... But then you two fainted in the middle of it."

Kirika Akatsuki: "Noise alert! Where are they--?"

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Right in front of us..."

Chris Yukine: "Hah, we didn't even have to move a muscle. Perfect!"

Chris Yukine: "Let's do this then!"

Dr. Ver: "Haah...Haah..."

Dr. Ver: (The Noise appeared. Could that mean...)

Dr. Ver: "They're here, and they look different from before!"

Chris Yukine: "Steel yourself, Warrior Noise! You'll be Swiss cheese when I'm done with you!"

Dr. Ver: "To think they were hiding such power. This can only mean..."

Dr. Ver: "Hehehe. Wonderful. The gods must be watching over me if I'm being granted this finest of opportunities."

Dr. Ver: And now! The aspiration of I, Dr. Ver, shall begin with earnest conviction!"

Kirika Akatsuki: "Great... it just had to be that mad scientist again!"

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Doctor."

Chris Yukine: "You shouldn't be hanging around here by yourself."

Dr. Ver: "Welcome back, everyone. I simply couldn't wait, so I came all the way here to meet you."

Dr. Ver: "And boy, was it worth it! Look at those new outfits! You look ever more gallant!"

Chris Yukine: "Yeah, the Warrior Noise don't stand a chance against us now."

Kirika Akatsuki: "We'll take them out one by one!"

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "...Teehee"[1]

Captain: "Doctor, are you all right?!"

Dr. Ver: "Of course I'm all right. And it's all thanks to these young ladies here!"

Captain: "Who are these girls?"

Dr. Ver: "Did you not see? They just cut down a Warrior Noise right here!"

Captain: "But how could these kids manage something like that?"

Chris Yukine: "Well, we did beat that Noise, but I get why you wouldn't believe us."

Captain: "We know the difficulties involved with the task at hand... And of the terror the Noise bring."

Captain: "I can say with confidence that there's no way in hell a few girls like you--"

Kirika AkatsukI: "We'd appreciate it if you didn't belittle us!"

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "We gave that fight everything we had."

Chris Yukine: "I don't give a damn if you don't believe us or not, but then where do you think that Noise went?"

Captain: "Well..."

Soldier: "Captain, we should get moving."

Captain: "Ngh! I've seen enough! All right, we're moving on to the next site!"

Soldiers: "Yes, sir!"

Chris Yukine: "Hmph... What a pain in the ass."

Kirika Akatsuki: "I'll give them a piece of my mind, next time!"

Dr. Ver: "Now regarding your reception. The government would like to welcome you as something near to state guests."

Chris Yukine: "H-Hold on now! Isn't that going a bit far?!"

Dr. Ver: "Note that you won't receive the same accommodations as a state guest since they've entrusted you to my care."

Dr. Ver: "But, you will have free rein to fight the Noise and gather info to help counter them in the future."

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "So then we're above the law. But that just means they want to use us, doesn't it?"

Dr. Ver: Without mincing words, yes. You three are currently the only ones that can fight the Noise, after all."

Kirika Akatsuki: "We came back here to fight the Noise, but I guess things are more complicated than we thought."

Chris Yukine: "His point is that we're their only hope, right? I don't see anything wrong with that."

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Yeah, that's fine with me, too."

Kirika Akatsuki: "I guess when you put it that way..."

Dr. Ver: "I knew you would understand."

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "The alarm! Is it more Noise?"

Dr. Ver: "Yes. And, it seems to be those Warrior Noise to boot."

Kirika Akatsuki: "Let's move already!"

Chris Yukine: "Look! It's the Noise."

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "And the SDF..."

Chris Yukine: "Hey! Let us handle this!"

Captain: "Aim! Fire!"

Chris Yukine: "Are you listening?! Cut it out!"

Kirika Akatsuki: "Those attacks aren't going to work!"

Captain: "We're not done! Take aim!"

Soldier: "C-Captain! The Noise is breaking through our frontline!"

Soldier: "Aaaaaaaah!"

Captain: "Fire! Keep shooting!"

Chris Yukine: "What are you doing?!"

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Why won't they listen to us?"

Captain: "Shut up! We can't just turn tail at the word of some brats that show up out of nowhere!"

Chris Yukine: "Fine! We'll make this quick!"

Soldier: "Aaaaaaah! Stay away, stay away!"

Soldier: "Aaaaaaaaaah!"

Chris Yukine: "Dammit! What are you sacrificing yourselves for?! You're gonna die for nothing..."

Captain: "All for nothing?!"

Dr. Ver: "Please stay out of their way!"

Captain: "Doctor! But--!"

Dr. Ver: "If you wish to continue, you shall receive an official complaint from the US government."

Captain: "Urgh... All soldiers, fall back!"

Chris Yukine: "Thanks. This'll make things a little easier."

Dr. Ver: "That's good to hear. I shall bear witness to your gallantry from a slightly safer distance."

Chris Yukine: "Looks like it's time for the main course."

Kirika Akatsuki: "It's a whole group of Warrior Noise..."

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "But with these Kimono Gears..."

Chris Yukine: "...They're no match for us!"

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Just three more!"

Chris Yukine: "Don't let any get away! We're going to smash 'em all into dust!"

Kirika Akatsuki: "You got it!"

Dr. Ver: "Wonderful! I have nothing but praise!"

Soldier: "They defeated the Noise like it was nothing... Those girls are on another level..."

Captain: "Hey! Is that something someone entrusted with the defense of our nation would say?!"

Soldier: "S-Sir! No Sir!"

Captain: (But why can those girls beat the Noise? Why don't we have any weaponry that can do that?!)

Dr. Ver: "Dear oh dear, they've got honor, but a little more honesty with themselves would do them a world of good."

Dr. Ver; "Ah, but of course, there are more pressing matters at hand."

Kirika Akatsuki: "This should end it!"

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Kiri-chan!"

Kirika Akastuki: "Shirabe!"

Chris Yukine: "I'll do the honors! Hope you're ready to eat lead!"

Kirika Akatsuki: "We did it, Shirabe!"

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Yeah, with these Gears, nothing can stop us, Kiri-chan."

Chris Yukine: "We're just too good for them, obviously."

Dr. Ver: "Haha. This is nothing short of incredible. It never gets old no matter how many times I see it."

Dr. Ver: "I knew I was right about those girls. With them, my aspiration shall be achieved... Hehe, hahaha!"

Notes:

[1] No punctuation

[hikikomori-kuma]

[USUK] Pinkie Promise

Not beta-ed

They had been camping outside, on the damp land with the tents as their temporary shelter to the soft and continuous raining.

Two men hear their colleagues outside, shoes on sticky mud and orders hollered on the air but they did not care for all of it.

They had been hiding inside one of the bigger tents. One that has drier land and leak-proof tent. The one where they keep the crates of supplies.

They had been talking in hushed voices and listening to each other for hours now, ignoring the shouts of their names from their superior, allowing themselves - to pretend for just a night, that everything is normal. Imagining that they're back to their homes - Arthur in England, where he would spend a perfectly good night with an even more perfect drink in his usual pub and Alfred in America where he would look at the sunset grazing his family's corn fields.

Everything felt like yesterday, fresh from their memories until they were snatched in their own perfect peace and forced into the battlefield.

Arthur did it to fight for his country. Alfred did it to make a difference. They had different reasons - all of them in here but all the same, fighting.

Alfred held on his snicker as he heard their Commander holler out his name and an angry tone. Arthur snorted as he pat his pocket for his last box of cigarettes. He put one between his lips and offered Alfred some of it.

Alfred was never a smoker. He swore to never inhale the toxic thing ever since his brother struggled with asthma attack when a dumb person thought it was fun to blow it off on their faces when they where little but when he was pushed to action in the frontlines, the stress and horrors of this hellhole, the nicotine seemed to do the magic. He picked up one and put it one on his own lips.

He heard metal clinking open to see Arthur open his lighter while trying to conceal the flame from the outside view of the tent. Quickly pocketing it as he looked at Alfred. Arthur once told him that that lighter had been his father's and gave it to him as a good luck charm. He laughed at it the first time to which earned him a punch from the other, from then on, he learned not to make fun of it.

He put down his cigarette, puffing out a small amount of smoke. Letting it linger on his lungs as it slowly comfort his nerves. He passed his cigarette to the younger, knowing what to do with it. He put the tip of the cigarette on his unlit one and inhaled, letting the fire move from one stick to another. At this times, they need to think of ways on how to save even in how to share a flame from cigarette to cigarette.

Alfred always think it would be better if Arthur move near him, with the cigarette still in his lips and connect their cigarettes together. Sharing an intimate moment but cannot be quite labelled as a kiss, of sorts. They both knew they could never risk, they both knew.

They quietly blew off smoke, making the tent hazy. Alfred learned another thing - sneaking. A trait that proved to be an advantage in fighting but also a way to giving oneself a little comfort once in a while. He grabbed a metal flask from the inside of his jacket and passed it on to Arthur. It glinted in the small light passing inside the tent.

"Oh." That's all Arthur had said. Alfred just grinned as he let it rest on his open hands.

"Yeah." He sounded so proud to something that could earn him demerits.

"I never thought of you as a sly person." The older uncapped the flask and took a good long swig of the liquor inside. It's been weeks since he had tasted alcohol and whatever burn his throat and warm his inside felt good to him.

"Who do you think gave you those extra tea bags?" Alfred took the drink from Arthur and took a wig himself. There are better drinks but this will do, well, at least for now.

"Those are shite anyway."

"But you still drink it."

Arthur snorted as he flicked his thumb and the ashes fall on the ground.

"Hey, we can risk the tent from being burned." He gave the flask back to Arthur as the older clicked his tongue while crunching the ashes with the heel of his shoe.

"Such a baby." Alfred just chuckled as he inhaled his smoke.

They took a few swigs, back and forth, between their nicotine sticks. Listening to the pitter patter of rain against the tent's roof.

Alfred shifted closer to Arthur's side, leaning against the box crates as he let his hand rest over the other's thigh. He heard a small hitching of breath from the older but he relaxed as he leaned his head on the younger's shoulder.

"What do you think will happen tomorrow?" He asked quietly. The flame of his smoke nearing its filter. He could get seconds but he chose to stop with just one while Arthur had been silently filling his lungs with his third stick. Damn, he really should stop that.

The older shrugged. "The same. Bullets, firing noises, shouting, men injured - probably down." He took the last swig of the flask that Alfred decided to give all of it to him now. "If we're lucky enough, we'll only be enduring the mud and a few non-fatal bullets. But that's wishful thinking." He sounded so casual as he told this to Alfred - like, he'd been fighting longer battles than their current one.

Alfred was never the one for serious talks, especially ones that involved death. He has seen countless men, soldiers, hit the ground as they mutter a praying on their last breath and be snatched of their name tags. He felt like he had enough.

"Man, all I can hope is that I won't be shoot on my face." He tried to be humorous, making the talk light as he nudged the other with his shoulder. "It'll be a shame to destroy my handsome face, since I know you love lookin' at it." He even waggled his brows.

He could feel Arthur cringe, his nose would do an adorable wrinkling together with the frowning of his equally adorable eyebrows. Oh, Alfred could already list down the things he would surrender just to see that every day.

"It'll be a shame, indeed." Alfred laugh but it turned to be a shock as the elder's hand found his, together with the words that followed it. "I do love looking at your handsome face." He squeezed his hand to which the other reciprocated.

"Then, I'll do my best to protect it."

Arthur chuckled, it was small - somewhat hollowed, a bit exhaust but still a chuckle. "You better, you still owe me that dance when we get back in England."

Ah, yes. That unfulfilled dance. The one that ended up being a promise as the pub became crowded and chaotic on their last day before deployment.

The younger moved to kiss the older on his forehead. HIs hair smelled of smoke but the remnants of fresh rain and tea still remains. "I do now, eh?" He let go of Arthur's hand to put it around him and completely closing the distance between them.

Arthur grabbed at his sleeve as he pulled the other. Their dying cigarettes forgotten on the floor as they cling into each other's arms. A few rustling and they found themselves connecting their lips. Moving with one another as they grabbed on each other's clothes, desperately longing for their touches.

Arthur was the one to push away. His breath coming short, panting, as his forehead rested on Alfred's. After a few moments, he finally found his voice.

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't- I'm a bit drunk by now-" He knew- they both knew that it's a lie. He scrambled to pull away from Alfred but the other kept him in place. He was about to protest when Alfred kissed him again. This time, softer, gentler.

"It's okay, Artie." He smiled as he clung to the other. He heard Arthur mumble a protest about the nickname but he knew deep inside that Arthur loved it. He kissed him again, and again, and again until the other responded and pushing against him with equal fervour. Hands to hair, to necks, to arms, to chests. Hands that seemed unable to find the right place to stay still.

After what felt like eternity of passionate kisses, they looked each other in the eyes. Clouded with emotions they did not dare to name as cheeks flushed from heat and lips glossy and swelling because of each other.

"Do you want to..." Alfred asked, leaving out the last words as he knew well that Arthur understood the message. His hands caressing the older male's cheek as he felt the other shook his head.

"No." His voice a bit broken and Alfred felt his heart grew a little sad. They had never did the act before. No. They will not risk before but tonight, with the threat of facing death - experiencing death first hand - he's willing to take the risk. Just this one night to be with the one he loved and he could die happy.

His train of thoughts was interrupted as Arthur spoke again. "Not yet, love. Not yet."

He wanted to ask why but Arthur answered it before he could even voice his doubt.

"After all of this is over, when we're back at home. And in safety." He looked at Alfred as he touched his face to which the younger leaned into.

"So, please..." His voice begging, pleading for the other and Alfred would always be eager to grant him anything. "...please survive this."

He felt his head nod. "And survive this too, Arthur. For me." With his left hand, his pinkie finger up and directed to the other. Pinkie promise has always been children's thing but he needed some assurance - he needed proof, that this one would be fulfilled. No matter what.

Arthur brought his own pinkie finger out, entangling it with Alfred's and even kissing their entwined pinkies. Sealing their promise.

"I promise." He smiled, a genuine and determined smile reserved only for rare occasions and even rarer recipients and Alfred's glad he's one of them.

"I'll hold onto that promise, then." The younger leaned again - with their pinkies still intertwined - he sealed their words with a kiss.

END