#rhis took ages

[wilsons-three-legged-siamese]

NEW FIC ALERT???

Requested by @sleep-needer like 3 weeks ago, took me ages for no reason I do apologise-

Thank you to ml @lv3buzz for helping me with the last bit <33

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Chases childhood and how he dealt with it.

Warnings: child abuse, neglect.

Say Goodbye to The Ones That we Love.

Only Chase knows why he has that scar on his head, and why he has so bad claustrophobia.

"Please! " He sobbed, trying to fight back his mother.

His mother, Jane, just kept ahold of him, her teeth gritting and eyes burning with fury. Chase kicked and screamed, desperately trying to get out of Jane's tight grasp. Yet, nothing worked, being a nine-year-old. Jane opened the door, threw the kid in and slammed the door behind him, locking it. Chase scrambled to the door, trying to turn the handle and pounding on the door frantically.

"Mummy!! Please! Let me out, " he begged.

It was no hope, it was never any hope, unfortunately. He briefly cleaned his tear stained face and sat curled up against the door. He brought his knees up to his chest, trying to even out his cut off breaths. He looked around the small, cramped office space. Until it hit him.

He was trapped.

Tears spewed from his eyes once again as his breathing drastically increased. His chest began to feel tight, as his heart rate fastened. With the shaking of his hands, he weakly brought them up to his ears and tucked his head in his knees. Everything was way too loud. He could hear the staggered steps of his mother, the beeping of the printer, it was all too much.

Suddenly, it was an hour later. He couldn't recall how long he'd been curled up, but his knees hurt now. He slowly let his legs slip in front of him as he looked around. Nothing had changed. His arms fell to his sides as the sound of his mother's snoring filled the blank noise. He almost sighed of relief, gradually getting up and browsing the books on his fathers bookshelf. He ran his finger over the spine of a couple dozen, carefully reading the titles. Soon, he picked a book. It was a nice colour of green, with a blue box in the middle with the words:

'Oxford Textbook of Medicine'

written on it. Chase was previously attracted to the colours, as he really liked the colour green. But, as he quickly flicked through the book, he saw fascinating diagrams of all sorts of anatomy. The labeling was extraordinary to him. He sat back down in his prior position and read through the pages, studying the pictures and skimming the words.

And that's when he decided he should be a doctor.

Every time he got locked into that room, he looked at one new book. He even managed to find a notebook and pen, jotting down little notes and scribbling rough diagrams. It gave him something to do, other than sit and wait helplessly for his mother to wake up or his father to come home unannounced. But once he'd read most of the books in the office (other than the ones on the top shelf), he became bored and fearful again. He dug around in his father's drawers, desperately trying to find maybe a hidden journal. Until, he found one. It was dusty, brown and quite battered. He picked it up and read the front of it.

'Melbournes rheumatology cases'

Although he couldn't read the second word, it seemed important as it was well hidden. He read the authors name, as he'd always been interested in people's names.

'Rowan Chase'

His mouth fell agape. Though he wasn't sure on the first name, he had heard his father being called 'Rohan' or something, and Chase was definitely their last names. He smiled giddily as he opened the book. But much to his surprise, there wasn't any diagrams. He frowned, skimming through the whole of the book to find a total of maybe 2 pictures. It was quite disappointing. Yet, he forced himself to read the book.

He yawned multiple times while reading, maybe that rheuma word wasn't for him. He closed the book with a grunt, pushing it aside and slumping against the door. He grabbed his pen and started to chew on it, he guesses it was something to do. So he gnawed on the pen. Until the plastic broke. He groaned, hurling the pen into the bookcase in frustration. He crossed his arms, pouting dramatically, until he heard a bloodcurdling scream from outside the door. That sounded like his mother.

He got up in a panic and pounded on the door.

"Mummy!!? What's wrong!! " He screamed.

Jane didn't reply, she just screeched again.

Chase scrambled to his feet and frantically looked at his fathers desk, scanning the well organised objects until he landed on the phone. Going through his memories, he remembered the emergency number. 000.

He hurriedly picked up the phone and dialed the number, impatiently waiting for the operator to answer.

"You have dialed Emergency Triple Zero, your call is being connected. "

He tapped his foot impatiently as he bit his lip. Jane continued to groan in the background. But finally, a Telstra Operator answered.

"Emergency. Police, fire or ambulance? "

"Am- ambulance, " Chase replied, his voice shaken and small.

The Telstra connected him with the ambulance line, them answering quickly to his call.

"Ambulance, what's your emergency? "

Chase gulped, "I- I don't know.. My mummy is screaming. "

"What's your name and age, sweetheart? "

"Robert, Robert Chase. I'm nine, " Chase muttered.

"Okay honey, and where are you? "

"My- my fathers office. "

"Well done sweetie, now can you stay on the line until the paramedics get here? "

"Mhm."

"Okay, good boy. Just keep talking to me okay? "

Chase kept talking to the nice operator until he heard a crash. He jumped, squeezing his eyes shut and placing his hand on his ear.

"Ma'am! Where is your son? "

A male American accent called, then Jane answered weakly. Just as Chase processed this, the door was opened in a strong force. Chase gasped, staring at open door and unfamiliar man in the doorway.

"Robert? " The man said softly, crouching in front of Chase.

Chase nodded, looking at the man with tears in his eyes.

"I'm Dr. House, your mum is okay. I need you to come with me. We'll keep you safe, " Dr. House explained, holding his hand out to let the little Chase grasp it.

He followed, trailing timidly behind the man. This Dr. House seemed quite nice. He had chestnut curls, piercing blue eyes and extremely chiseled facial features. He was clean shaven, but his hair was quite disheveled. Chase trusted him, though he was quite rude. Chase held tighter, suddenly feeling anxious. Once outside, Chase was loaded into an ambulance with House, getting strapped in and staring at the floor.

Lord this is gonna be a long night.

Chase sat, swinging his feet and sucking on a lollipop. He looked around at the foreign room, seeing a small kitchen, TV and some books. Books. His favourite. But, he had a lollipop so it was okay. Dr. House was sat next to him, grunting as he flicked through one of Chase's dads 'special daddy magazine's'.

"What's up with my mummy? " Chase suddenly asked, obnoxiously getting closer to House.

House scoffed, "natural process of having female anatomy. "

"Why? " Chase questioned, moving his sticky face closer to the man.

House pushed Chase down gently while rolling his eyes.

"Because your mum is female. "

"Why? "

"Because God wanted her to be. "

"Why? "

"Because God is a sexist bitch. "

"What's a bitch? "

"Female dog. "

"Why? "

"Shakespeare."

"What's that? "

House clenched his jaw and fist, ignoring the little Australian and going back to looking at the magazine. Chase gave up and continued looking around the quite bland room. There wasn't any colour or decorations, just a boring doctors staff room. He pouted, twirling the lollipop stick between his fingers as he'd finished the sweet.

The first time Chase realized he was taking care of his sister, was 3 months after she was born. After meeting Dr. House, after hearing his mother's screeching, after everything, he still didn't realize for 3 months that what he was doing wasn't normal. Only on his birthday did he realize.

"Mummy, why can't I have a party? I'm 10 now! " Chase exclaimed, trying to rock the crying baby and chasing after Jane.

"Shut up Robert! My god! " Jane shouted back.

She turned around sharply and kicked in the legs, causing him to yelp in pain and fall to his knees. He quickly held onto his baby sister, Bea, making sure she didn't fall. Jane speedily walked away to her room and slamming the door. Bea started to waile. Chase held her close and hushed her through his own crys, rocking her gently.

Now eleven-year-old Chase paced his kitchen, trying to think over the sound of the television. Jane drank heavily on the sofa, downing bottle after bottle of anything she could get her hands on. Chase audibly sighed, letting his gaze fall over to his hopeless mother. Bea slept restlessly in her cot, squirming because of the television noise. Chase noticed.

"Hey, ma, do you think you can maybe.. Turn the telly down a little? " Chase questioned scarcely, shuffling closer to the living room with hesitancy.

Jane abruptly turned around, letting her piercing blue eyes pierce through her son like a spear. Chase flinched as she brought her hand up, but she turned it down far much obnoxiously than necessary.

"That better for you, Robert? " She snarled, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Chase nodded in fear and scurried back the kitchen, bringing his hand up to his heart and sighing of relief. Just as he thought he fixed it, the television started to blare again as Jane hiccuped. Chase rolled his eyes to himself as Bea started to whine. Chase picked her up and held her on his chest. He bounced on his heels up and down, rubbing his hands up her back and whispering phrases to her. He quickly snagged a bottle from the side, inspected it and offered it to her. she took it with her hands and popped the teat into her mouth and sucked. Chase leant against the counter, rocking her subtly. But as she realized the bottle wasn't warm, she hurled it across the room in a fit and wailed again.

"When will that godamn baby stop screaming?! " Jane shouted, now chucking a beer bottle at the two.

Chase ducked, holding on tightly to Bea as they barely missed the discarded object. Chase sank to the floor, now sobbing, trying to tend to Bea and the new cut on his head.

Only Chase knows why he has that scar on his head, and why he has so bad claustrophobia.

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

masterlist

previous

chapter warnings: unhinged! Joel, mentions of PSTD, nightmares, drugging, forced captivity, mention of pregnancy.

Beau Henley was on night patrol at the front gates of Jackson that night. He didn't enjoy the shift; it was boring and uneventful and seemed to stretch on forever, the minutes ticking by slower than molasses in winter time. Because he wasn't properly trained as a sniper shooter yet, he was posted on the inside of the gates on the ground more often than the lookout points, which were a hell of alot more exciting than pacing back and forth in the snow with the same unmoving view of the town.

Beau hated it but he couldn't argue with Tommy and Maria about the roster when he was still a junior ranger. Beau had to suck it up and pay his dues, do all the boring shit like check the inside perimetre and stand around during the tedious night shifts guarding the gate. There was so much more to keeping Jackson safe than just riding around on horseback with a loaded rifle like the heroes in the cowboy comics he used to read as a kid. It wasn't all fun and games and action, like the young generation seemed to think it was. There was protocol to follow and a heirchary of roles that had to be exercised, and unfortunately for Beau he was stuck at the bottom in the chain of command.

He couldn't wait to rise through the ranks. Once he had a few more accomplishments under his belt then he could patrol outside more often, which is what most junior rangers dreamed of. Beau loved the thrill that came with patrolling outside the community and the possibility of running into infected or raiders. He also loved the weight of a gun in his hands, how it was seen as a symbol of authority and power. He hadn't had the opportunity to shoot anyone yet but his finger itched to pull the trigger on his rifle. Goddamn, he couldn't wait for an excuse to blast someone's head off with a clean shot.

For now all Beau could do was try to stay out of trouble and demonstrate his potential as a patrolman who would one day take over from the likes of Joel, Troy and Tommy. He tried, but his hot headed nature and egotistical persona occasionally got him in the shit with his superiors. Beau could usually weasel his way out of someone's bad books with a manipulative, charming pretence of good manners and what seemed like sincere apologies. He knew just how much humility to exhibit before he started to look like a kiss ass. The older men could see how strong and eager he was and would let him off with a light warning. Women were easier, though. Beau found his golden boy good looks worked particularly well on women of all ages, so all he needed to do was flash a smile or do some bullshit gentleman thing like hold a door open for them and any grievance was forgotten.

Except when it came to that teasing bitch, Rhi. His cheeks still redden at the memory of Joel Miller reprimanding him for simply jesting with her. All Beau had been doing was showing off to his friends while shooting his shot, silly stuff that guys sometimes did when they were looking for a fuck and being egged on by their guy friends. It had been harmless. But whatever. One day he would rule this fucking town and he could have some glory for himself, including all the pussy he could dream of.

Beau stood at the checkpoint at the gates that night with a rolled cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth, idly fantasising about the latest girl he had flirted with at the Tipsy Bison. He was about to take a piss break when he spotted the black silhouette of a large figure on horseback approaching the check point. There looked to be a small cart attached to the horse as it clopped through the snow.

Now what the fuck do we have here?

Beau's eyes squinted curiously as the figure advanced, the features of their face shroud in shadows and unidentifiable from a distance. He took one last long suck on his cigarette and then tossed it on the ground by his boot.

"Whose that?" Beau called, smoke exhaling from the side of his mouth. The figure did not reply but continued to approach him, mysterious and forboding in its dark anonymity. He threw a quick glance at the guard at the lookout point at the top of the gate above him, who just shrugged in return. 

When the figure ontop of the horse finally came close enough for the lamplight to illuminate their face, Beau's mouth fell open in shock and confusion.

"Joel?"

Like an almighty general prepared to go to battle, Joel Miller looked formidable and tyrannical sat atop his horse, Tex. The greying curls of his hair were unruly and the bags under his eyes were more pronounced than usual, yet his orbs were steely and distant; he looked simultaneously exhausted and wired, a disconcerting combination that made Beau feel anxious.

Beau stuck out his chest and stood straight in an attempt to appear assertive, but he couldn't quite disguise the tinge of fear that came creeping into his voice when he spoke.

"Joel, uhm, sir. What can I--"

"Open the gate." Joel demanded simply without meeting Beau's eyes.

"What?" Beau was utterly bewildered by the situation. No one had ever passed through the gates alone or outside of the scheduled duties - it was unheard of and certainly an unprecedented occurance. He had no clue what to do but wondered just what the hell Joel was up to. "Where are you going? I mean, what are you doing? You aren't on patrol tonight. You can't just leave the town."

Joel's jaw ticked once before his head tipped down to glare down at Beau with icy hatred. Joel Miller was an intimidating man at the best of times but when he was displeased he appeared downright frightening; his eyes looked almost black and a dangerous energy radiated from his being, punctuated by a snarl on his lips and a flare of his nostrils. The single gaze from Joel made Beau made gulp involuntarily and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Open the gate." Joel commanded once more, gritting his teeth in aggravation. "Now."

"Joel, I mean sir, you gotta fill out the log book, you gotta record the reason you're leaving," Beau blabbered. "We can't just let anyone go out without permission--"

Without breaking eye contact Joel slowly reached into his coat pocket and produced his pistol. Beau's words immediately died in his throat at the sight of the weapon and when he heard the threatening clicking of the hammer being pulled back, his stomach clenched and his blood turned cold. Although Joel hadn't pointed the muzzle directly at him the warning was still loud and clear.

Whatever the fuck Joel had planned, there was no mistaking how serious he was. Beau held up his lightly trembling hands and nodded vigorously.

"Okay, okay, hold on, I'll tell them to let you out." His head snapped up to look to the guards at the top level of the wall above them. They were already peering down and intently watching the interaction, concerned yet not daring to aim their own guns at the infamous Joel Miller. Beau hurriedly signalled for them to open the gates.

The wooden infrastructure creaked laboriously as the massive fortress like entrance gradually unfurled. A sudden blast of frosty wind rushed through the gap, a prompt demonstration of just how unforgiving the fierce wilderness could be outside the commune. Only somebody crazy would go out in such conditions, Beau thought. If that was what Joel wanted to then he really is as fucking crazy as they say.

Steeling himself against the wind Beau folded his arms tightly around his chest and trekked backwards a few steps, giving a wide berth to Tex and the cart. Joel rode passed him without speaking a word, the pistol still held tightly in one of his gloved hands. Aside from the dim moonlight and twinkling stars in the sky the landscape beyond the walls was devoid of light. Beau watched silently as Joel departed through the gateway and out into the ominously black wilderness, the cart rolling behind Tex like a faithful old dog trailing after it's owner.

Beau stood frozen on the spot until the entrance to the outside world was folded back and sealed once more. He frowned and shook his head, not knowing what exactly to make of the surreal situatikn that had just occured. It had been like a dream, too peculiar for Beau to fully process. He was suspended in the trance like state until the uncomfortable throb in his groin reminded him that he needed to empty his bladder. He whirled around and marched over to a nearby bush tucked into the shadows along the gate.

"Fucking psycho," Beau muttered to himself.

If Joel Miller wanted to go outside Jackson in the middle of the night, who the fuck was he to stop him? And why should he? He hated Joel; why should he give a shit that the old man was going against community rules and acting like a crazy person? It wasn't any of his business, and so he wasn't about to sound off any emergency sirens.

Fuck the Millers.

The idea had been significantly less challenging to execute than Joel had originally thought. It had not been something he wanted to do so soon and with so little preparation, but he felt he had little choice right now. After the confrontation with Ellie had essentially shattered Joel's world, his ability to employ logic and critical thinking had been shattered, too. His main reasoning for surviving these years now despised him. There was no coming back from that. How could she ever forgive him? When she spat those cursed words at him, Joel's fight or flight had been activated and all he wanted to do was flee.

Leaving Jackson had just been a fanciful notion until now. A distant desire kept tucked at the back of Joel's mind that subconsciously spurred him to collect and stow away bits and pieces for the future venture. If he had more time to adequate prepare, he would have done so methodically to ensure the safest possible journey for you both. There were so many facets to consider for survival, after all.  But time was not on Joel's side; he didn't have as many supplies as he wished, but he had the basic neccessities and they would have to suffice. You would have to learn to get by.

He had been quite convincing in his explanation to you. He told you Ellie had blown up at him over something and then he had a panic attack, but things were okay and he just needed to go back home and rest. You seemed to understand, and even looked a little sympathetic. When you made your nightly cup of tea and left it to steep in the kitchen while you went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, Joel worked quickly.

He retrieved the sleeping pills from the box in the closet then returned to the kitchen. Using the handle of a carving knife he methodically crushed the pills into a powder, then swept the dust into his palm. He sprinkled the pile into your mug of tea and stirred it until completely dissolved.

You had no inkling of what Joel had done, not even when your eyelids started feeling heavy soon after finishing your drink. It wasn't long after that you slipped into a deep sleep on the couch. He had given you enough to be confident that you wouldn't rouse for several hours. You did not wake up when he carried you out of the house over his shoulder. You did not stir when he set you in the cart and bundled you with blankets and one of his coats.

You were dead to the world when Joel transported you both out of Jackson and away from everyone and everything you knew and loved.

The next morning Tommy Miller kissed Maria and his sons goodbye and walked out the front door of their home to begin his day of work. As he twisted the doorknob shut behind him he winced at the twinge of pain that was already leeching into the joints of his knuckles. With each passing season Tommy was becoming more aware of how old he was getting, how the weather and demanding physical work was impacting upon his body, how his tolerance for ineptitude was waning faster. But it was his two young children who gave him the strength to persist each day, it was their youthful innocence that motivated him to fulfil his role within the commune with a smile on his face.

Family was everything. And with that in mind, Tommy knew he had to be gentle talking with Joel today. He needed to be ready incase Joel needed his support and counsel after what happened with Ellie.

The brothers were scheduled together on the day patrol today. Whenever they were working alongside each other they met outside Tommy's house ten minutes prior to the shift and walked to the stables together. Tommy liked the unspoken routine and he suspected Joel did, too, and it seemed to help their relationship improve significantly over the past two years.

However, this morning was different. There was no sign of Joel waiting for him out the front of the house. Tommy turned his head to scan around up and down the street but could not find any sign of his brother. It was completely unlike Joel to be late or missing in action - his fastidious temperment made him pedantic about things like punctuality, and so for Joel to be missing this morning was strange.

It was strange. And it was worrying.

Tommy very quickly tried to rationalise Joel's absence, to calm the instant swoop of alarm that flashed through his gut. Perhaps Joel was sick and couldn't get up out of bed this morning? Maybe he had a late night and didn't wake up in time and was on his way right this second?

Tommy desperately wanted to believe in the actuality of these reasons, even the possibility of them, but deep down he knew they weren't going to be true. He could feel the growing spiral of dread circling inside his stomach, urging him to trust his intuition that something was definitely not right, that Joel was infact in a great deal of trouble.

Tommy bolted into the street and took off in the direction of Joel's home.

When you woke up and opened your eyes, everything in your line of vision was completely blurred. It took a good minute for all the fuzzy shapes and pools of colour to become distinct objects as your eyes gradually adjusted to your surroundings. Laying on your back, the ceiling above you was the first thing you became conscious of. It was made of a darkened shade of wood, totally unfamiliar to you. Your gaze rolled around to see the surrounding walls, bare of any decorations or pictures, made of the same kind of timber.

This isn't Joel's house, and it definitely isn't your cottage.

With great effort you slowly sat up onto your elbows, your head leaden with the sedation of heavy sleep and your body devoid of strength. You registered the feeling of warm, soft flannelette sheets under your hands and realised you were laying ontop of a bed.

A stranger's bed.

Your unfocused gaze skitted around until your eyes settled on the outline of a man's figure across the room. He had his back to you as he crouched down infront of a fire place. Your heart skipped a beat with alarm, but through your foggy vision you quickly recognised the crown of soft greying curls, the colour of his favourite Carthartt jacket.

Joel.

You desperately wanted to speak, to somehow get his attention so he would look your way, but your mouth felt too dry, your throat so parched. You rolled your tongue over the roof of your mouth, the ridges of your palate rough with lack of saliva. You parted your lips but no sound came out. It seemed to take all your effort to get the signals between your brain and your mouth to work in conjunction with one another just to form a single word.

"Joel?" You were finally able to mumur, groggy.

You watched the figure remain in the same spot by the fireplace, his broad back still turned to you, unmoving. He must not have heard you.

You blinked with weighted deliberation, trying to fight against the overpowering tug of drowsiness that was beginning to coax you back to sleep. You opened your mouth again to try speak but it stayed shut, like your jaws were glued together and unable to open. Then your arms gave way and your elbows slipped so that you lay supine once more, your upper body too weighty for you to stay elevated. As soon as the back of your head hit the pillow you once again fell into a dreamless slumber.

Unfortunately for Tommy, his premonition had not been unfounded. When he barged into Joel's house he discovered neither you or Joel were there. The silence was deafening as he searched through the rooms on both levels, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

Fuck.

Tommy rushed to the stables. Tex's stall was empty. There was no sign of the horse in the paddock.

With his heart thundering in his chest and his stomach roiling with anxiety, Tommy sprinted from the stables toward the front gates. His mind was a cacophony of dread filled thoughts.

Joel's dead.

Joel's left.

But there's no fucking way, it's not possible, right? If Joel had left then somebody would have seen him, somebody would have stopped him.

When Tommy reached the check point at the front gate Beau was leaning over the log book, pencilling his signature and clock out time.

"Who was on last night?" Tommy yelled, striding up to him with his fists balled at his sides. "Who the fuck was on watch?"

Beau turned around to face him with a timid reluctance. "Uh, me, sir."

Tommy stood directly infront of Beau, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath and quell his anxiety all at the same time. "Did you see Joel walk through the gates?"

"Well...." He puffed up his cheeks and blew out a sigh of air, shrugging indifferently. "He wanted to go out. So yeah, Tommy, I did. I let him out."

Outraged, Tommy roughly grabbed Beau by the collar of his jacket and jerked him close to his face. Beau's eyes widened and he held his hands up in a surrender pose, suddenly made speechless by Tommy's aggression.

"And you didn't fuckin' tell anyone until just now?!" Tommy roared, his teeth bared.

Beau swallowed thickly and shook his head rapidly. The smug bravado he usually exhibits had totally vanished, all the arrogance drained from his body as the senior man chastised his spineless character. Tommy wanted nothing more than to punch the young man square in the face, but the urgency of the situation granted him the restraint to stop. He cannot get sidetracked, cannot waste precious time on a piece of shit like Beau when Joel has probably kidnapped you and skipped town. No, the penalty for Beau's mistake will have to be served after Tommy sorts all this shit out.

He let go of Beau's collar and shoved him backwards, his top lip curled in disgust.

"Gutless piece of shit," Tommy spat. "I'll deal with you later. Get the fuck out of here and don't say shit to anyone."

He had to find you.

Although the log cabin was not large and wouldn't take long to warm up, Joel tried to get a decent fire going as soon as he settled you into bed.

He stared at the small flames crackling in the fireplace before him, waiting patiently as the fire finally began to swell and engulf the logs sitting in the middle. He was eager to feel some kind of heat; his body was still stiff from the journey in the freezing cold and the ache in his bones radiated in tandem with the throb of the jagged scar on his abdomen. These physical ailments were bitter reminders of his age and shortcomings, of just how mortal he was.

Joel had endured the brunt of the harsh weather as he navigated his horse through the snowy night, with the harsh wind chapping his lips and smarting his eyes. He had made certain, however, that you had been insulated from the elements as well as possible, bundling your body up in a blanket and one of his thick jackets.

The journey here had not been too far from town, for the cabin was one of the checkpoints along the northern route Jackson patrol. It would serve as a halfway stopping point for you and Joel for half a day, just long enough for him to prepare some food and clean out the supplies there. Then you would be travelling further up the state to a bigger cabin, one Joel had discovered on the last raiders mission. The raiders had used it as their base and it had been well furnished and stocked. It would make an ideal home for the two of you, one where you were remote enough to not be disturbed.

Joel thought he heard you stir, that he heard the phantom echo of your voice say his name. He turned back to check on you but you were sound asleep on the bed, the features of your face lax as you rested. His mind must be playing tricks on him. He anticipated that the sleeping tablets would keep you knocked out for atleast another six hours. But the fatigue has started to seep in to Joel now, and the longer he stays awake the more sluggish his brain becomes, his movements slowing like a child's wind up toy.

He ascended carefully from his crouched position, his knees cracking and his back aching. He had to sleep before he passed out completely. Joel lumbered over to the bed and lowered his body down beside your sleeping form, the springs of the bed frame squeaking underneath his weight. The instantaneous relief flooded over him and he groaned loudly. He would rest just for a little, just enough to recharge.

Joel wrapped his arm around you and pulled you tightly into the crook of his arm before descending into a deep, dreamless sleep.

It had been a restless night for Oscar. Another night of vivid dreams and the harrowing retelling of Elvie's final moments, a jumble of vignettes and imagery that made him toss and turn and tangle in the bedsheets.

The last dream had been the worst. More often than not, the most distressing ones were the most simple and unembellished. Usually they began with Oscar searching the woods for Elvie, eventually finding her standing at the edge of a cliff top with her back to him. He calls her name and approaches her. Elvie turns to face him, her face streaked with tears and her large eyes anguished, her hands placed over the round globe of her pregnant stomach. She shakes her head gently and outstretches her arm to show Oscar the fresh wound in her skin.

Bitten.

Infected.

She was bitten after they escaped from a clicker just hours earlier. Understanding of just what Elvie is planning to do hits Oscar with torturous clarity. He lunges to her but he's a second too late, and she topples over the edge of the cliff.

Oscar jerks awake with a loud gasp of air rushing into his lungs. He immediately sits up, panting inbetween coughing and spluttering. He pounds on his chest with his fist to try clear away the choking sensation, and it is truly distressing just how prolonged the sense of terror; it floods throughout his whole being, making his brain race and his limbs shake.

Oscar gasps as he digs his palms into his eye sockets. He waits for his heart to stop thundering.

Oh, how he longs so desperately for a reprieve from the pain and the nightmares, from the yearning and despair.

A series of knocks hammering from the front door of his cottage pulls Oscar back to reality. He somehow manages to stumble out of bed and drag a sweater over his head before shuffling to answer the door.

Oscar is surprised to find Tommy standing on his porch. Before he can say a word Tommy begins explaining the situation.

"Joel's lost the plot, big time." Tommy sighs, shaking his head in dismay. "He's taken her and left. They left late last night."

The news hits Oscar with a force that makes his heart clench inside his chest; it's a crushing pain that squeezes his very soul. "Left? What the hell do you mean? Why would Joel do that?"

"Somethin' happened between him and his daughter. I ain't goin' into details but it hit him hard, so he's not thinkin' straight." Tommy explains calmly. He knows now isn't time to deal with indignation or rage - he need to get down to business and formulate a plan as soon as possible.

Oscar tries to process his words. There is no way you would have left Jackson on your own accord. This is your home for goddsake, where your entire life resides. Oscar pictures you being dragged through snow, whimpering and begging for Joel to let you stay.

The pain in his sternum morphs into a white hot rage that rips through his core. Tommy recognises the torrent of emotion dawning over Oscar, how his eyes blaze wide and accusing, his top lip curling with wrath.

"I know," Tommy assures him quickly but not unkindly, holding up his hands. "I only found out this mornin', otherwise I wouldn't be here - I'd be out there already."

"She would never leave Jackson," Oscar snaps. "Tommy we gotta go get her, right now, right this minute."

Tommy reaches out and plants a firm hand on his shoulder. "Oscar, I gotta come up with a plan first. Can't just hunt 'em down and demand they come back to Jackson."

Oscar exhales harshly through his nose, clearly on the verge of lashing out. "But she could be in danger, Tommy." 

"Joel ain't in a good state of mind right now. We gotta be careful." Tommy gives his shoulder a small squeeze, an imploring gesture that begs him for understanding. "The last thing I want is for her to get hurt, but we gotta do this the right way, or else it'll end up worse than this."

Oscar runs his fingers through his hair and sighs heavily. He knows Tommy is right; given Joel's history as a raider and a skilled hunter, this situation will require strategy and diplomacy, lest someone get injured or worse. Oscar cannot bear the thought of you caught in the middle of all this chaos. He cannot even allow himself to entertain the mere possibility of you getting hurt.

"I'm gettin' a group together to go find 'em. You sit tight here and I'll be back when I round everybody up." Tommy instructs Oscar. "We'll all go together. Get ready and be waitin'."

Tommy leaves Oscar's cottage with brisk, determined strides. Oscar watches him disappear down the street, most likely going to round up Troy first. It'll take some time to get a party ready, to equip themselves with rifles and horses and an official plan of action. More precious time wasted that could be finding you, Oscar surmises.

He can't waste any more time. He can't lose you. He may not have been able to save Elvie, but he was going to save you, even if it killed him.

Oscar dashes back to his room and scrambles to get dressed in his thickest, warmest clothes. He swipes his glasses off the night stand and shoves his feet into his boots. He can't be weighted down by anything more than what is essential, so he forgoes taking his sachet with him.

The only provision Oscar allows himself to carry is a pocket knife he managed to stow away from a patrol mission a long time ago. He tucks it in his jacket pocket at the last minute. His impulsively and urgency stops him from contemplating the actuality that he could run into danger; that the knife itself is a comparatively insufficient means of protection when the likes of clickers and bloaters could be roaming wild on the outside.

It doesn't matter. All that matters is finding you.

Oscar doesn't wait for Tommy to return. Ten minutes later he's saddled up on one of the horses and trotting through the front gates of the town.

••••••

The next time you wake up from the tranquilizing trance of the sleeping pills Joel slipped you, your brain is instantly more lucid and sharp and you are no longer groggy. When you sit up your vision is clear and you are able to fully process the reality around you this time - you are somewhere foreign to your usual surroundings but you are warm and uninjured. And Joel is with you.

You turn your head and see him sitting at a small wooden table near the fireplace this time. There is a disassembled pistol laying on the table top and in his hands is a rag. He's cleaning the pieces individually.

"Joel?" You speak croakily, grimacing at the dryness of your mouth. Joel glances up at you with no expression on his face; he says nothing before returning his attention back to the task before him. 

You swing your legs to the edge of the bed and rise to stand cautiously on your wobbly legs. "Where are we?"

He remains silent, still focused on the rag and the gun part in his hands. You watch him as he works the stained rag over the barrel and the muzzle for a minute, quietly observing his appearance; you note how tight and hunched his posture is, aswell as the dark circles under his eyes and the clenching and unclenching of his jaw. You have never seem him so on edge before.

"Joel, where are we and why are we here?" You repeat a little more firmly, your eyes fixed on his face.

"Cabin not too far from Jackson." He finally mutters.

You're outside of Jackson?

"W-why?" You gasp.

Joel abruptly stops cleaning the pistol and let's the part drop onto the table, the metal clattering loudly against the wooden top. You're startled by the sudden movement and automatically scoot back on the bed away from him, bracing yourself for an impending slap or harsh word. Yet nothing happens to you; Joel stays seated, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, his eyes screwed shut like he's in pain. You watch on as he exhales loudly and shakes his head, as if he's fighting off an unpleasant memory that's plaguing him.

"Ellie hates me," Joel confesses, his gravelly voice sounding thick in his throat. "I did somethin' bad. I...I hurt alotta people to save her. And now she found out and she won't ever forgive me."

The memory of Joel's panic attack from last night promptly comes flooding back to you. It makes sense that he would catastrophise an argument with Ellie, considering just how deepp he loves her. He must have needed some space away from where she was to get himself together mentally.

"Okay...," you speak hesitantly. "Why don't you just give her some time to cool down and then talk to her? I'm sure it'll blow over."

Joel's eyes flicker open but he doesn't look at you. He runs his hand over his mouth and sighs heavily. "It won't."

You sigh and shake your head a little, uncertain how to comfort him any further. You privately vow you would try your best to help mend their relationship once you get back to Jackson.

"When are we going back?" You ask, looking around the cozy cabin. "And why don't I remember getting here?"

Joel is quiet and unmoving, almost like a statue save for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The longer the silence between you continues, the more aware you become of the sickening sense of tredipation beginning to simmer in your gut. Something isn't right. Something bad is happening.

"Joel!" You cry with exasperation. "Tell me!"

"We ain't goin' back." Joel replies lowly, his brown eyes finally rolling up to stare at you.

"What? Why?"

"We can't live there anymore." Joel says softly. "There's nothin' there for us. 'S best we just make our own life somewhere else."

Somewhere else? Where else was there? Your understanding of the world outside Jackson was very limited, but you knew what awaited outside the safety of the community; desolate place, vast and perilous, filled with monstrous beings and devoid of anything resembling purity or joy.

And that's where Joel had taken you. Away from everything and everyone you ever loved, away from safety and comfort and happiness. You would never see your friends again. You would never step foot in your cottage again. You would never see Oscar again.

Your heart races. The walls are closing in on you as the reality of the situation sinks in. Your lungs feel tight and constricted and you struggle to breathe.

"I love you," Joel confesses, his voice thick with tears, his eyes piercing into yours. "I couldn't leave you there. I can't do this without you. We can have a good life out here, I promise, I'll keep you safe. We won't have anyone else interferrin'."

You shake your head frantically, tears of terror starting to well in your eyes. "No, no, no! This is insane! I want to go back!"

You try to run but your legs are so weak and your head is still swimming; your limbs and brain aren't yet coordinated enough to allow you to move nimbly. When you stumble Joel anticipates your move and is by your side in a flash. Before you hit the ground he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you tight against his body. You sag into his belly and begin to sob helplessly.

"I can't, Joel, please don't do this to me," you wail with your face buried in his chest.

Joel holds you against his front and nuzzles his nose into the hair ontop of your head. "You're all I got left. I'll take care of you, I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Something in his words spark a flame of anger from your very core. After all the abuse and hurt Joel's made you suffer through, the promise he speaks at this moment sounds nothing but a poisonous lie. A sweet, hope filled vow of love that inevitably eventuates into a punishing battle for domination and forced submission. That is all you and Joel will ever have. For the rest of your life, he will hold power over you until he breaks you down irrevocably, with no family or friends anywhere around you.

You cannot allow him to do this to you.

You need to escape.

You covertly peek out the corner of your eye to spy the front door. It's the only way to enter and exit the cabin. It's your only way out.

And it's now or never.

You suddenly shove against Joel's chest with all your might and rip yourself out of his embrace. Before he can grab you and pull you back, you pivot and make a run for the front dood. You grasp hold of the knob and haphazardly twist it back and forth until the door clicks open. You fling it wide and it crashes loudly against the exterior of the cabin, but you don't care how much commotion you make. You just need to run.

With your heart thumping in your chest you sprint into the open like a hare on the loose. It is freezing outside the warm cocoon of the cabin and the pinching shock of the snow on the bottom of your bare feet makes you hiss, but you push onward.

Your frantic eyes dart around the environment - you are somewhere within a forest and you can see nothing but snow and trees. You have no clue in which direction to run, but you instinctively launch straight ahead.

For a fleeting second there is a swell of triumphant energy powering you. You can do this.

You can be free.

Then it all comes abruptly crashing down; you trip over your own foot and collapse face first onto the ground with a harsh smack. You squeal in pain when your chin connects to the floor of the forest and the skin of your knees and hands scrape against the icy snow.

Joel is on you within a matter of seconds. "Fuckin' hell," he grumbles to himself. His strong, rough hands grip your arms and haul you back up to your feet. He seems to exert little to no effort corralling you back inside the cabin, dragging you like a scolded kitten being carried by the scruff of its neck.

He shoves you to the ground and slams the door shut firmly behind him. You fall onto the floor on your ass with a thud.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" Joel roars as he glares down at you.

"I'm not staying here with you!" You yell defiantly, glowering up at him from where you are sprawled on the floor.

"You got no fuckin' choice!" His baritone voice booms back at you. "You ain't never been outside Jackson since you got there! You really think you could survive by yourself? Think you could out run infected or a band of raiders?"

Joel is right. You have never shot a gun. You would have no idea how to fight for your survival, whether it be against infected or the weather or another person.

You have never stepped foot outside the gates as an adult, had never even been on patrol before. It wasn't in your personality to want to explore or venture; you had always been too soft, too traumatised as a child yet too sheltered as an adult to even want to brave the outside.

You had never been a great candidate to be a ranger physically, anyway - your body is weak and soft from lack of proper nutrition and disordered eating, unable to defend or attack. You were just one of the many shelteted residents of Jackson that were kept safe by those more powerful and capable than you, like feeble lambs watched over vigilantly by shepards at all times. Except now you felt like a lamb tricked and led astray from the security of your flock by a cunning and blood thirsty wolf.

"I want to go back, Joel." You sob pathetically. "I don't want to be here!"

"Well congratulations, because we ain't fuckin' stayin'!" Joel shouts back, the dimple in his cheek flexing.

You flinch and bow your head, letting the sudden pool of tears cascade from over the rim of your eyes and down your cheeks. You swipe at your running nose with the sleeve of your sweater and listen to Joel's boots thunder over the floorboards as he strides over to a rucksack by the fireplace. He crouches down to retrieve something from inside it.

"Don't wanna hear another fuckin' word out of you," Joel snarls. "So I'm gonna make sure you don't try anythin' stupid like that again."

When he stands up straight again and stalks back over to you, you begin to shake with wracking sobs. He towers before you, his dark brown eyes ablaze with fury as he starts unwinding a long length of rope between his two hands.

You can't save yourself this time.

You can't fight this.

You are going to need a saviour.

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp-blog @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows @puduvallee @gossipgirl-03 @mandoloriancookie @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @missannfairy @bean-security @missannwinchester @mrszdjarin

[simp4konig]

My personal thing, if you don’t mind me sharing <3, about König, while I know he has the potential to literally kill you without a second thought, I feel like he has a soft spot of children. Parents not so much, but he always spares the children. Now, for the bad behaved children I feel like he would give a scary talking to 👀

Because König feels very strongly about bullying, so if he heard a kid was bullying the other kid? Would come to their immediate rescue and shut the bully down harshly. For him, that’s a mercy, but he promises that if he ever hears word or sees them acting like that again he won’t be as “merciful”. But to the Victims he would console them, but also give them his harsh reality of “you have to be stronger than your enemies” and as much as he wants them to keep their innocence, he doesn’t want them to be weak either. Or worse killed.

But that’s just my little HC 😌

Anon rhis is such a good headcannon???? 🥹🥹 lemme just..,🤏🤌

No i don't mind qt all!!! 😊 If anuthing, im so glad you shqred this with me 🥰💖 bc I felt IMMEDIATELY inspired by this headcannon !!😽✨💖...

... so jere are MY headcannons for YOUR headcannon 🙈🙈⛅🌻💞💕💓✨🌼 Took me a short while to formulate my answer, so srry for the delayed reply 😿 I saw this as soon as you sent me this an i dont want u to tjink i ignored you at all:(</33

König with a soft spot for children headcannons🥺🥺

+ father König drabbles🤭

Word count: ~2022

*If you ignore my VERY angsty depiction of König's childhood, then it's totally pure fluff all around 💖✨🤗

*General headcannons for König

Writinf block is fuckinf AGONY and im in PAIN 😭😭💔💔 give me time to recover and ill powt two fully-fleshed out fanfics sometime soon 🙏🥺

Tag List ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @abysslovesyou ♡ @puff0o0 ☆ @rustic-guitar-notes ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @reyner-lee

...

König, having been bullied all of his childhood, is FIRMLY against bullying.

To see a little girl/boy being labelled an outcast is oh too familiar to him, and hits far too close to home than it should. Brings back the insecurities, the feeling of being utterly humilated, a permanent reminder of his not fitting in. Literally.

Primary school: bullied for being a beanstalk, for head hitting the door frame, for being abnormally large, a "mutant"; balls hurtled at him in dodgeball, all competing in finding out who can knock out the "freak"; knees kicked from behind and legs buckling from the attack, a stampede of legs stamping on him as he cowered on the floor, helpless, and no one caring to help, teachers observing idly nearby.

Secondary school: nose broken to "fix" his crooked features, his "ugly" face; cast aside in class photos for "ruining the picture"; people of his own age turning their heads in the other way in disgust, avoiding him like the plague.

As if his "ugliness" was contagious, and if anyone was to touch him they'd catch the disease.

Power surpassing his tormentors, yet too powerless to fight back, he endured, yet didn't overcome.

Lasting trauma changed König's own perception of self completely.

It took a long time becoming the cocky and confident commander he presents himself as. To stand up to his full height and embrace himself for who he was and is, to be self-assured, domineering, and boisterous with others irrespective of their rank. The Colonel; a hardened soldier; a strict man of discipline exerting his authority over all, not at all sympathetic towards anyone.

Deep down, he is still that young boy, vulnerable in the center of a circle of so many pointing fingers and sneering faces. All became a collective body of ridiculing smiles, of sing-song laughter, so many that he lost count.

So, personally vowing to NEVER let his future children (or any children) go through the same turmoil, he would intervene whenever he had the chance to.

For instance, perhaps König was speed-walking home one day, dufflebag slung over his shoulder as he rushed to get back to you as soon as possible after being deployed these past weeks, and maybe he was passing by a playground.

Initially focused on the goal at hand, he couldn't help but turn his head, a small smile under his mask as he felt a wave of nostalgia crash over him. Nostalgic of times before he was forced to integrate with callous society.

Smiling at the oblivious children playing together, kicking their chubby little legs on the swings, sliding down a slide and falling, squealing. All giggling with glee, so innocent.

All except one. His eyes would land on a small girl, bawling on the ground, no older than five years old.

Surrounded by three others, all pointing fingers and laughing, the ringleader making fun of the poor thing as his henchmen stomped the remainder of her sandcastle, kicking sand at her. Hands on hip, chest puffed out triumphantly.

Rubbing her puffy eyes, thick pouting lips drooping in an open-mouthed frown, chin quivering as she struggled to contain her broken sobs, she kneeled on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest.

Usually, in these types of situations, people tend to behave in two very different ways when they see something that happened to them happening before their eyes:

"Why should I help them? I went through the same thing, so it's not my problem" or "I should help! They shouldn't have to go through the same thing".

You can probably already guess under which category König falls into.

He was NOT about to actively play a passive role in ignoring the poor blubbering child, to be downright apathetic like the other adults were in their radius. No way.

Still carrying his dufflebag, imagine the horror of the little shitlings*: seeing an imposing giant 2ft+ taller than them, huge body trudging towards their little troupe; cold, icy-blue eyes half-lidded staring into their bulging ones. Glaring.

Little band of clowns would probably actually shitting themselves fr 💀

Not only does König give the brats a stern talking to (all the while they are nodding their heads with jaws on the floor, knees trembling and nearly caving in on themselves), he later makes it his due diligence to track down the parent(s) and scold them too.

"Was wird deinem Gören zu Hause beigebracht? What do you teach your brat? This behaviour is unacceptable. You have set a terrible example, Du verdammter Idiot. How dare you allow this? Bulling is wrong. Scheiße, are you listening to me? Because you should, Dummkopf. You should be ashamed. I am sure ashamed of you. I swear to Gott—"

Cue 1 hours later, he personally grounds them (the child and parents)... 🤐

...And the child goes with it? Even the adults? 😭

I mean, to be honest, I would too, if a 6'10, body-so-broad-that-it-blocked-all-sunlight-and-did-not-fit-in-the-door-frame Colonel, gesticulating wildly, projecting strongly his German-accented voice, cursing in an aggravated amalgamation of furious English and a spiteful spit of German... Yeah, I'd be pissing my pants not even gonna lie 😭

I'd imagine that the parents would be immediately saluting, images of stupidity on their faces, completely dumbfounded to have their parenting challenged and to learn that their "precious little angel(s) that can do no wrong" actually can do wrong. (sorry guys i hate toddlers with a RAGING PASSION... rant over fyi no more of me insulting shitheads🥰)

As for the sweet, weeping girl, he would crouch down to her height, gentle eyes genuine behind his menacing mask. Slowly lifting the fabric, wary of his facial deformities, his scars, he'd do his best to give her a comforting smile, wanting to make her at ease.

She was not put off by his appearance at all. If anything, she maintained eye contact — was curious yes, so with no filter whispered, "You... you have a nice smile, sir. I like your eyes.

"They're—" a loud sniff, wiping her nose with her sleeve "—they're pretty. "

Taken aback, König's eyes widened. Then, in soft whisper:

"Meine Süße, I'm so very sorry about those— those idiots..."

The girl giggled a little, dimples appearing on her tear-stained cheeks.

"And I'm so very sorry, but there will others. Other idiots," he allowed himself to smile, letting out a dry chuckle.

A tentative hand dropping to her round shoulder, squeezing it every so slightly to emphasise his words. "And you have to be strong, Mädchen. You must be strong. This world isn't a good place for angels like you."

Obviously, he didn't sugarcoat the truth. Situations like this would be unavoidable. He would make that clear.

"I do not condone violence, but—" a wink, acknowledging the irony behind his words. "—if you stick your foot out when one of those brats are walking down the corridors, surely nothing will happen, ja?"

Seeing the girl lighten up, smiling brightly, no signs anymore of crying, he ruffled her hair with a toothy grin.

Letting the veil drop down his face, he suddenly fixed his posture and gave an exaggeratedly goofy salute as he turned to head home, satisfied. All the while the girl waved at him energetically, eyes crinkling up in an adolescent's adorable smile.

On another note: I never really gave it much thought before, but... König as a father? 🥺🥺

Your headcannons unlocked a part of my brain that had been locked. 🤭✨ Needed to upgrade my König skill tree before I got to this poin. 🦸🏼‍♀️ Sure has been worth it, though. 🤩

Ever since he was past his teenage years, the thought of a family was something he longed for. Desired.

Maybe it's because he was taught traditional house roles in his European household, or was longing for something that was out of reach, he couldn't tell.

What he was certain about was that it was his biggest wish. His dream.

Deployed in a foreign country, his favourite past-time was fantasizing about his future with a special someone, to have a big family, and to raise his children, giving them everything good he never had, and to shield them from everything bad he had experienced.

Something in being the breadwinner of the house was so masculine to him, and coming home to so many short, out-stretched arms, so excited to be reunited with their papa clinging on to his long legs brought a tear to his eye.

And, once you two officially became a couple, he knew that he wanted to start a family with you at some point. From the moment he met your eyes, intuition assured him that you would be the right one for him.

If you're a [fertile] female, he wants nothing more than to see miniature you and him running around, sweet cherub faces and their chubby cheeks smiling at him, calling him papa, calling you mama.

Seeing your belly swell up with his baby would strangely give him a sense of pride, proud that you would both bring sacred life into the world together, and would practically worship the ground you walk on. He would want to get this right, for everything to be perfect.

He wouldn't allow you to lift a finger despite your protests, catering to your every need, caring for you in any and all ways he could:

Carrying the groceries, 3 carrier bags in each hand, serving you while simultaneously subtly making you swoon, not missing the googly eyes you made at his strength from his peripheral vision;

Doing the bed, making sure to stock up on additional soft pillows and fluffy blankets so you would rest well, removing all stress from your morning routine, and the discomfort of finding a comfortable sleeping position at night;

Insisting you eat balanced meals, preparing nutritious food that had all the nutrients you would need, the sustenance to feed you and develop a healthy baby.

The gore and guts he had witnessed in the battlefield did not compare at all to the sight of blood staining the hospital bed sheet. The look of horror in his eyes as you went into labour, death grip on his hand, knuckles turning white. He'd be hyperventilating, almost feeling the same pain you were going through 😢💔

Not to say that your agony was worth it, but seeing the beautiful blanketed bundle in your arms, you cooing at the little one, made every single horrific moment combined in his life worthwhile.

All the struggles, the hardships, the troubles; all worth it if it meant seeing you with his child.

If you're anything other ([infertile] female, male, non-binary, etc), König would get so emotional when adopting a newborn with you.

He'd be teary-eyed, unable to hide the emotions.

To think that he'd be rescuing a child, giving them a second chance and making it feel so wanted, so loved. To give it all the love he was missing, the feeling forgotten through years of bullying, abuse, and violence, and war.

He would waste no time building the nursery. Painting the walls, building the crib, buying plush blankets, stuffed teddy bears, toys that would be in no way a choking hazard.

His helicopter parent preparations aside, his dream would be to grow old with you, and be surrounded by children, grand-children, and even great-grand-children, sharing stories as the lively atmosphere was bubbling with life, with a family.

Piggy back rides would be a MUST!! 😡 Or, better yet, his infants (taking turns — dunno if three kids at once is very practical 😭) sitting on his shoulders, seeing the world from so high up. Reaching out, and their head in the clouds.

Bouncing them on his knee, like a train conductor going through heavy turbulence, all the while the little ones would be laughing happily, telling him to go faster.

Every single one of his children cuddled up to him; in his lap, over his shoulders, splayed over his legs, clinging to him like a pack of koalas. 🐨

Reading bed time stories, stroking their head, stood in the door way minutes after his children had fallen asleep. Keeping them safe.

A family of his own. To eventually embarrass endearingly, to squish their cheeks, and tickle their sides, play-wrestle and tease by keeping objects out of reach. His extensive research also included horrible dad jokes, which were made hilarious by their poor translations into English.

Wanting to raise his children the way his mother had raised him while she was still around, to give his children the happy childhood he hadn't had, to make school a positive journey into adulthood. He'd teach them to deal with bullies, to stand up for themselves when he never could...

...And, athough he has good intentions, the truth is that with a father like him no snot-nosed brat would ever dare to mess with the Colonel's children ☠️

...

Note: Omg you. csn tell that i got so carried away w/ this😭😭 you know rhat line where König "fantasized" about a family ?yea that was me the entire time wiritng this...💔 God i need to stop daydreamimg excessively ajd return to reality 🥲 ...

...,,jk i wont 🥰💅✨💫 good mental health??😰😰 guurrl we don't know her 💆🏼‍♀️💫✨🧚‍♀️💓

Functioning like a normal human being💔🤮🤮🤮<<<<< Making up vivid scenarios in my head💓💓 😍😍😍

*fyi, shitlings is a loose translation for "gówniaki/gówniarze", an insult you have for children in Polish (similar to the English "shithead"). Do what you will with that new knowledge. The world is your oyster with that one ig 👍

[redskull199987]

Imagine this Y/n is Jack’s granddaughter who got kidnapped when she was 15 years old. They never found her so Jack thought that she is you know 💀. Buuuut one day girl about Fred’s age came to Moriarty’s mansion and William was like How can we help you and she was like im here ti see my grandpa. So after Jack explained everything Willism was like yeah she can stay (so he can f her the same night) BC THEY WERE PLAYING SIMON SAYS BUT SPICY ONE(they have known each other bc Moriarty lived at her place after the incident of there Mansion).

Do tou think you can write rhis?

I am so sorry that it took me that long to write this. I did enjoy it very much In the end. I changed it a little bit tho, but not much. The only difference is that they're playing chess, instead of Simon Says, I hope that's fine^^

A Bet

William James Moriarty x female!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping, apart from that it's basically just making out, lil bit of fluff

Summary: After years of being away you, the granddaughter of Jack Renfield, finally return to him. How convenient that he lives with the Moriarty family now...

Masterlist

I stumbled through the empty streets of London. It was already late at night, so you could barely spot any people outside. Only here and there, a lonely soul was making their way home.

I was one of them. One of the many lonely souls, who who had to eke out their existence in this city. But today, I was hoping to finally find my home again, my family. Or, what was left of it.

I had almost reached the Moriarty residence. I knew, that I was making a bet here. There wasn't a hundred percent chance of finding my Grandfather Jack Renfield here. He was the only family that I had left. And after finally escaping the family, I was sold to after I was kidnapped when I was 15, my sole goal was to find my grandfather.

And the Moriarty's were the only clue, that I had. I knew that he used to work for them. I had seen them a few times, back then. Back then when everything was still at peace. When London wasn't burning itself up, with half of its residents supporting a murderous genius and the other half trying to bring him down.

My mind kept racing, as I finally reached the door's of the Moriarty residence. It was huge, but that was expected. After all, they were lords.

With shaky hands, I opened the metal gate and made my way to the main entrance.

I could see light inside, which meant that they were still awake, or at least someone was still awake.

I breathed in heavyly, before I climbed the stairs to the door. I looked at it for a few seconds, before raising my hand and knocking loudly three times.

I hadn't realized that I had held my breath in, until the door in front of me opened.

A tall young man with blond hair and mesmerizing red eyes was looking at me.

I had recognized his eyes. It could only be him. The genius.

"William?", I asked, my voice weak.

"Pardon me, young Lady, but do I know you?", He asked politely.

"I am looking for my Grandfather, Jack Renfield.",I explained.

I watched as his eyes widened, when he realized who was standing here in front of him.

"Y/N...is that really you?", he mumbled, a hand raised to rest it on my shoulder.

"Yes.", I stated, "It is really me."

William softly ushered me inside, while taking off my soaked coat. I waited for him to put it down to dry.

He then showed me the way to the living room area.

I noticed several people sitting there. I counted six in total, seven together with William.

They eyed me suspiciously, after noticing us.

"This might be a shock for the most of us, but...", William started, his hand still on my shoulder.

But before he could finish, the man who I had undoubtedly identified as my Grandfather jumped up and walked over to us. He stopped right in front of me, his eyes wide and his hands trembling.

" Y/N", he said quietly, "Is it really you?"

I felt how my eyes started to water:"It's me, Grandpa"

He sniffled before pulling me into his embrace. I held onto him tight. I finally had him back. I had my family back.

A few weeks had passed, since my return. William and his brothers had generously allowed me to stay at their residence.

I had also been let in on their plan to change the nation. And to be honest, to realize that William was the Criminal Mastermind was not hard.

I had also been introduced to Colonel Moran, Fred, Von Herder and Bond.

They were all very different but they worked together perfectly.

And while Fred was very reserved and quiet, Moran and Von Herder were Chaos. Even though, they were a different kind of chaos. While Moran basically started flirting from the first second he saw me (much to the dismay of my grandfather), Von Herder was only passionately ranting about his guns. And as much as I liked listening to his talks, it was a lot more pleasant to talk with Bond and share a nice cup of tea with him. He had also let me in on his story, while I told him mine. I felt like he was one of the few who understood what I had been trough.

Well, apart from William. He was able to read me like an open book. Since I arrived we only had a handfull of interactions. After all he was a busy man, a math professor and criminal Mastermind at the same time.

Nevertheless, it always felt like he knew something that I didn't, when we talked.

He had asked me to join his group on the third or fourth evening already. He explained that he understood if I didn't want to join his cause, it was dangerous after all and with my past. He told me that he couldn't promise to keep me save and out of his business. It would be hard, since everyone who lived here, openly talked about the plans they had.

So, I agreed and William had slowly filled me in over the next few days. Until I knew his plan and everything that they had achieved so far. It was truly exhilarating, but also intimating to see what one group of people could achieve, if they only worked hard enough.

"What are you thinking about?"

I was ripped out of my thoughts, when I heard William's voice behind me. I turned around an granted the young man a smile. My mind started to wander at that thought again. He must've been 23 or 24 by now. Not much older than me.

"I was about to make a tea.", I finally answered his question, as William was still staring at me expecting an answer, "Would you like some as well?"

He smiled politely:"That would be nice. It's strange not to have Louis around."

I nodded at his words. I remembered that William had sent his brother off to a mission a few days ago. He was accompanied by Fred, Moran and Bond. And with Von Herder always hanging out in the basement and Albert being away most of the day, busy with his work as a Lord, William, my Grandfather and me were the only one's left in the residence.

After a few minutes the tea was finished and I reached for two cups, but I couldn't reach them. Louis usually made tea in this house and he was taller than me, so naturally the cups rested higher in the cupboard.

"Mind if I help?", I heard William smile next to me. He gently pushed me aside and grabbed two cups, before handing them to me.

"T-Thank you.",I mumbled. Why was I stuttering?

"No problem", he grinned. I handed him his cup and he made his way over to the sofa.

I watched him for a few seconds, before deciding to go back to my room. I was about to leave, as I heard William call my name.

"Y/N?", he asked.

I turned back around, tea still in my hands:"Yes, William?"

"Would you join me for a party of chess?", he smiled.

I didn't know what to say for a few seconds. Surely, I couldn't win against him, could I? After all, he was a genius.

"Sure.", I smiled and made my way over to him. Why did I say yes?

"What do I get, when I win?", I joked, as I sat down in front of him. William smirked at me, as he started to prepare the game.

"Whatever you want.",he smiled.

I felt how my cheeks reddened at his words. Why was he making me nervous all of a sudden?

"Does the same count for me?", he asked.

"What do you mean?", I said as I made my first move.

"When I win", he explained while moving his first figure,"Do I get a wish?"

I only nodded at his request, too bashfull to open my mouth again. I had to win this, or it would be the end of me. But the smile on William's face made me nervous. Would I be able to win this?

I lost. Hard. He defeated me in minutes. I barely had time to finish my tea. I didn't even realize how he did it this fast, but he did it and now he had a free wish.

"I guess, I shouldn't have betted on this.", I mumbled.

"Probably not.",William chuckled.

I watched as he slowly stood up. He was standing directly in front of me now.

"What is your wish?", I gulped.

William only smiled, before he held out his hand to me. After eyeing it for a few seconds, I raised my own hand to grab his. William gently laced his fingers with mine, before pulling me to my feet.

My eyes widened, as I realized how close we were. My chest pressed up against his and I felt how William gently put his arm around my waist.

What he did next surprised me. His movements were fast. With one swift motion, he sat back down on the sofa behind him. But he had pulled me with him, so that I had landed on his lap.

I gasped, as I felt his soft hands on my waist and his warm body beneath mine.

"William?", I whispered.

"This is my wish, Y/N,", he mumbled and raised a hand. He gently caressed my cheek.

"Just...say stop, if you're uncomfortable and I will stop.", William explained and closed his eyes. He leaned in closer, until his forehead rested against mine.

"It's okay.", I mumbled.

I watched as William opened his eyes again, but he was hesitant so I decided to help him. I raised my hands to rest on his shoulders to pull him closer. My left hand wandered to his tie, pulling him impossibly closer. William finally seemed to understand that I wanted this as much as him.

He overcame the last few inches between us and pressed his lips on mine.

I hummed against his lips. He was soft and unexperienced, but it still felt heavenly. One of his hands rested against my cheek, while his other hand pulled my body flush against his.

"Will...",I mumbled against his lips.

"Yes, my love?", he smiled, while his lips kept kissing the skin that was exposed to him. First my jawline and then my neck. He left a trail of featherlight kisses. My eyes closed at the pleasant feeling of his lips. This was something that I had never experienced before. The gentleness of his touch. His soft lips, his nimble fingers. It was Intoxicating.

A small moan escaped my lips, as William found my sweetpot. His lips kept traveling lower and lower, until he had reached the soft material of my dress. On the other hand I could feel his delicate touch on my thighs. His hands that pushed my dress up higher and higher, untill his hands comfortably rested on the exposed skin of my hips.

"William", I moaned again, "Shouldn't we...?"

William seemed to understand my hint, as he hoisted me up against his hips, his lips never leaving my skin. My arms closed around his neck, as he walked the both of us to his bedroom.

The last thought I had, before his bedroom door closed, was that hopefully, my grandfather didn't hear us. Or anyone else.

I awoke to the soft sunlight tickling my skin. My eyes fluttered open and once I had adjusted to the bright light, I realized where I was. It was William's room.

I wanted to turn around, but I realized that two strong arms were wrapped around me to keep me in place.

"A few more minutes", I heard William mumble against my neck. He pulled me closer against his chest.

"My grandfather will kill us", I mumbled and leaned into his embrace.

"He definitely will", William agreed. I could almost hear the smile on his face.

"It was worth it.",he admitted. His grip around me loosened a bit, so that I could turn around in his embrace.

He had finally opened his eyes, which were Intensely gazing at me now.

I raised me hand to gently comb through his messy hair. William sighed at my actions and let his eyes fall close again.

"It was worth it.", I finally agreed.

William opened his eyes and smiled. I felt how his hands wandered to my waist and he pulled me closer again. He planted a kiss on my forehead.

"I think it's better, if we tell my grandpa now.",I mumbled.

"Something tells me, he already knows", William chuckled.

"How come?", I asked perplexed.

"Darling", he smiled, "It was impossible to not hear us last night."

[goitale]

for jesstra song recommendations:

— goddess by s.j. tucker

— jenny (i wanna ruin our friendship) by studio killers

— butch 4 butch by rio romeo

— i wanna be your girlfriend by girl in red

— hallow’s eve masquerade by beetlebug

— skeleton song by kate nash

hope this helps🫡

BET OKAY HEHEHEE þis might take a while and itll be super long so ima just... plop a read more down before i type out þe masses :3 (UPDATE: IT GETS SUPER LONG)

tysm for þe ask/recommendations!!! <3

goddess by s.j. tucker: love the guitar actually!!! simple and soft like petras love for jesse for real,,,,&&3&:& þis is SO jesstra actually. like immensely, even. its so "i wanna adventure with my bestfriend , but its gay ^_^" HEHEHE !! 100% recommended!!!

jenny (i wanna ruin our friendship) by studio killers: very synthy idk þe genre BUT VERY JESSTRA FR!! þe overall theme of þe story represents þem very well 100% recommended !!!! HHEHE now im gonna be plagued wiþ jesstra þoughts i just realized . ruh roh

butch 4 butch by rio romeo: OKAY BEFORE I LISTEN i actually was planning to listen to more rio romeo anyways TY FOR REMINDING ME !!! okay þe yaps: aigh þe starting piano is js so beau-...WHAT THE HELL ive been trying to find this song for ages holy shat TYSM STARSHADY WHAT.....the jesstra,,...i love rio romeos "crooked" singing it fits þe piano so much i love.!!!!iwjsosjskd þis one is going on þe list þis is such a rare event GUYS LISTEN TO RIO ROMEO RN /VPOS!!!! sighs as i move on, sadly not able to listen to it on loop forever...

i wanna be your girlfriend by girl in red: holy cow þe immediate feelings of like,,,, old þoughts þat have reappeared for a long time and just wont leave,,,, AND THEN THE??? BACKGROUND VOCALS WHAT.... þis feels like walking into petra's mind whatt þe hell!?!?!?? (also i love i can tell you probably favorite petra wiþ þese HEHE) i like þis song alot,,, chat its so jesstracore PLS LISTEN!!! 100% recommended fr!!!! irs so deep yet also soft-spoken at þe same time i want to be it...list aswell....(TWO??! a miracle!!!) jjhhehhdjhdfdh jesstra,,,, AND THE !! EXTRA INSTRUMENTS WHEN THE NARRATOR KISSES THE MENTIONDED HANNAH WTH ITS SO MUSICAL MASTERPIECE,,,,... chat its a winner gyys ITS AWINNER okay i have to calm down and move on./silly

hallow's eve masquerade by beetlebug: !!!! off þe bat, þe simple instruments and softness is so familiar....&$&:&:&: its like jesse and petra go to a cool down and dance tobether,,,;and its so cute and gay,,, and they didnt even realize it was eacjogher þey danced wiþ,,,,,&&383&38!38!3!38!:!,/pos SOSOOSO LOVELY!!! jejejjdkdj i wang to hold jesse and petra in my hands as inwatch þem smile at eachoþer I LOVE RJEM...100% recommended EEHHE

skeleton song by kate nash: HLP þe violin to þe snap of percussion rlly took me off guard,,, ough itd so raw??/pos jhjejdd rhis song is so beautiful what. !!!! and þe lyrics is ofc jesstracore eeheeh !! ough it gets so messy where þe lyrics almost become useless holy,,... ijhehdjd þe violin,,,..,,.,,&&2!::&:& AND THE NOTHER VIOLINjjjdjdnnf its so like??? honest yet also so secretive its so rawly jesstra i lvoe þis. alot!!! 100% recommended chat PLS LISTEN TO ALL THE BEAUTIFUL MUSIC OF THE WORLD RAHHH

and that's the end! wow þat was so. ieejnejdjeeehehe þeyre dancing in my little head. doing a little jam. a boogie, even . and i lofe tjem.

again TYSM FKR THE SONGS!!! and youre welcome jesstra song yearners for also seeing þe recommendations i get ehehee i love þe internet!!!!!

[storiesbyrhi]

Rhi! Serial killer fic!?

Yeah dude! I had this idea of Reader getting involved with a serial killer (probably Billy) but then Eddie (also a killer) finding her. It's going to be weird and messy and Dead Dove. I have some of it on paper, but more of it in my head.

A little snippet below the cut. Proceed with caution. Happy holidays.

The good thing about having such a limited range of emotions, is that jealousy wasn’t usually one of them. You didn’t care that other people experienced gleaming joy and shocking fear and bleeding empathy. Pride. Loneliness. Awe. Frustration. Passion. Revulsion. It all looked very ugly and inconvenient and boring. Having a baseline of consistent apathy, however, did mean that whenever you did happen across a feeling, it stuck in your memory too well.

Take that rare jealousy, for example. You could count on one hand the number of times you’d felt sickly green. In second grade, Tilly Jean and Liam Beaumont got into a fight over a particularly nice blue pencil. It had a cloud shaped eraser on the end. Tilly ripped the pencil from Liam’s hand and stabbed him through the cheek with it. Of course, it was void of sinister intentions. Both children screamed and cried and were traumatized for life. You, though, were jealous that Tilly knew how it felt to maim.

When you were twelve, a girl from the next county over escaped her kidnapper after three months captive. Mary Barber was sixteen and brave, going on the news to tell the kidnapper that although he’d fled before the cops could track him down, she was unafraid of him. She told the newscaster that he’d tied her up and called her ‘Princess.’ You were jealous that the man had thought Mary was special. Weren’t you just as special? Couldn’t you make a better Princess?

More recently, you’d been on autopilot at the age of twenty-three. When all the other girls that worked the checkouts at Walmart asked if you wanted to go out for drinks, you’d feigned flattery and accepted the offer. The way you smiled at Kelly May when she asked on behalf of the group made her stomach flip. Too many teeth, she thought. You’d stretched your mouth too wide, too happy. Something was wrong with you, she thought.

When she confided in the others about how your weirdness made her uncomfortable, they told her that being a high school bitch was so outdated. It’s the 90s now, one of them said, being a little strange is, like, in.

A pub crawl ended in a club that played four different remixes of Madonna’s Vogue in a row, resulting in you hiding in the bathrooms, fighting the urge to pick up a teeny tiny coke spoon off the filthy tiled floor and use it to burst your eardrums. When you finally emerged, finding the Walmart girls all in a tizzy, you noted the absence of Kelly May Lewis and subsequently participated in a messy search for her.

A jogger tripped over Kelly May’s mutilated body seven days later.

The jealousy punched air out of you and you called in sick for the first time in four years. Of course, of course, your manager said, you were her friend… You were with her that night.

You never could work out if you were jealous of Kelly May or the thing that took her while everybody was voguing.

[janedoeswriting]

The Way The Wind Blows (Stiles x OC) Chapter Eight

Description: Rhiannon finds herself trapped within her guilty pleasure tv show— Teen Wolf. Now, she must choose which path to take… one that leads back home, and another that follows uncertain adventure.

Tags: extreme slow burn, frienemies to lovers, fix it fic, canon change, actions have consequences.

TW: angst, fluff, sexual harassment, anxiety, depression, obsession, domestic violence, manipulation, etc. Just please do not read if you are sensitive to difficult subjects.

It took a week to convince the Sheriff that Lydia Martin was a trustworthy chauffeur. It took a lot of groveling, and convincing. In the end, it took Lydia showing up to the house to help Rhiannon convince him. She was very good at debates. In the end, he gave in. "Fine. But only because you're on the," he waved his hands around, "homecoming.. committee thing. When you don't have that after school, you come straight. here. When Stiles and Scott aren't at practice, you ride with Stiles, got it?" He firmly said. Rhiannon nodded, but couldn't help the grin that had blossomed on her face.

Sheriff Stilinski had seemingly permanently developed dark circles under his eyes. He seemed to have aged years within the past few weeks. Of course, Rhiannon's return had helped. But with her bringing no useful information about her kidnapping back with her, he reverted back to the endlessly distracted and exhausted man with the weight of the town on his shoulders.

She had felt so guilty about this that everyday after Stiles had finally finished his practices and Lydia and Rhi had finished with Homecoming committee, Rhi would force Stiles to drive her to the Sheriff's station so she could deliver a hot meal to him while he finished up his work. The FBI agents lingering around the station always eyed her with a hungry sort of interest. None of them, thankfully, suspected her. She was ever-the-dutiful foster daughter who had seemingly gotten lucky beyond belief after escaping a serial kidnapper.

"Maybe you could teach me self defense," she offered one day as she was dropping off chicken parmesan. "I'm sure it would make you feel better." Of course, this was all chipping away at that stony determination of his to protect Rhi. He had a right to as well, so Rhi couldn't even blame him. As her sole guardian and everything they had gone through with her disappearance, he must have felt the full gravity of what had happened to her.

"I'm sure that would." he chuckled, unwrapping the aluminum foil with a sort of greed. "But, I don't have much time."

"Allison is on the archery team," Rhiannon offered. The truth was, she had also grown deeply interested in Allison and her father. They were immensely skilled, and if Rhiannon managed to learn a thing or two from them it could be the difference between life and death. The wendigo was sheer luck. She couldn't allow herself to be put in a position again that would require someone else to come and save her.

The sheriff had laughed. "Archery? Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Rhiannon shrugged, but laughed too. "No, I guess I can't be carrying around a bow and arrow everywhere to ward off kidnappers."

They had slowly grown easier around the subject. Mr. Stilinski still didn't make jokes, but he didn't stiffen or grow cold when Rhiannon lightheartedly made light jabs here and there. "You should try out anyway, huh? Get more involved in different things. Allison is a good girl."

This implied he thought Lydia was not as good of a girl as Allison. Which wasn't wrong. "And it would be good to have a sport on your college applications." he added. Rhiannon shrugged. She had voiced no interest in attending college, but she also hadn't brought herself to express this. She could tell it was the sort of household that expected college, or at least some sort of plan. He didn't know that she did have a plan. One that didn't involve staying in this world, much less attending college there.

So she kept silent and nodded. "I can try it out. Its after school Tuesdays and Thursdays." She explained.

"Good! The days you don't have homecoming stuff. If you make the team you won't have to wait around for Stiles to finish practice." This was true, but Rhiannon attempted to breach the subject as she always did.

"I wouldn't have to wait around if-," she started, but as always he shut it down.

Eventually she give up the gig after a bit of back and forth and said her farewells.

"Tell me when you get home," Rhiannon always added. Lately with the Sheriff's late nights and early mornings, she asked him to knock on her door when he got home so she knew he was safe. She couldn't help but be apprehensive with the darach on the loose and the unpredictability of her next movements. Rhiannon had no clue when she would strike next, or to whom. She couldn't remember details-- just knew that they had to keep an eye on "healers". She had at least managed to scare Scott into bringing his mother dinner every night and keeping a close watch on her as well.

At the very least Mrs. McCall was safe.

"Thank you!!" Rhiannon exclaimed the day the Sheriff had finally given in to her berading. She hugged him in the kitchen. When Rhiannon pulled away he pointed a stern finger at Lydia, who smiled innocently. "Straight home. No detours, no shopping, no parties." "Of course, sheriff." Lydia said.

It was a Friday night and Rhiannon was stuck inside the house. Stiles and Scott were as well, of course, but that was their own choice. Rhiannon wished she could be a normal teenager. Lydia and her went to Rhiannon's room and she sighed. "I wish we could go to parties," Rhiannon longingly said. "Nah, they're barely any fun aways." Lydia said, picking up and beginning to solve a rubix cube Rhiannon had stolen from Stiles. "I know you're lying." Rhiannon responded, collapsing on her bed and hugging her pillows before rolling on her side. She picked up a magazine and began flipping through it unenthusiastically. It was one Isaac had lent her, depicting cool pictures of rockstars and recent news about them.

"Well why don't I host one?" Lydia offered. Rhiannon looked at her. Lydia chuckled. "I've never even been to your house because I'm 'not allowed'." Rhiannon said glumly and mimicked his stern voice. "Well what if I invited him too? We can keep it family friendly, invite all our friend's parents." "He wouldn't go he doesn't have time for anything fun. Plus, while they think we're on our best behavior we can sneak a little something into our cups," Lydia said suggestively. "He wont agree to go to party while people are getting kidnapped left and right." "Tell him it'll be a good way to unite the community. He could lecture parents on keeping close eyes on their children."

Rhiannon hummed, unconvinced.

"Besides, he could let loose. He looks terrible." Rhiannon moaned. "I know," she said as she rolled onto her back. "I feel so bad." "It's not your fault."

Rhiannon knew better than that, but before she could get another word out her door burst open. "Rhi-," he started, but saw Lydia and stopped in his tracks and fumbled around, coughing. "Lydia! Didn't know you were here." he squeaked out.

He was holding an old acoustic guitar in one hand while wearing burnt oven mits, a helmet from world war II, his boxer shorts, a frilly apron, and aviator goggles. "Rooting around the attic?" Rhiannon asked with a raised brow. It was just like Stiles to get distracted while looking for something. He was wearing the evidence all over himself. Lydia turned with an exasperated expression and returned to the rubix cube. "Y-yeah. This was my granddad's," he said, setting the dusty guitar on Rhi's bed. He looked ready to run out, but Scott appeared in the doorway, who must have just returned from giving his mother dinner.

"Playing dress up?" Scott asked. Stiles let out a frustrated grunt and flicked the oven mits onto the floor before stomping out. Scott turned and met Rhiannon's eyes. They both held equally amused expressions and broke into laughter.

"Arn't you guys going to your house?" Rhiannon asked Scott. Scott leaned against the doorframe with crossed arms. Lydia turned back around and set the the finished rubix cube on the desk.

"No, my mom is working the night shift. She said we're grounded from having sleepovers without her there." "What, break a priceless heirloom?" Lydia asked sarcastically. It must have been something similar though, because Scott laughed guiltily and scratched the back of his neck.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "You can't stay here. We're having a sleepover tonight." "You two?" Scott asked. "Us three." Another voice joined in. Allison appeared in the threshold holding her duffle bag and an easy smile.

Scott blinked and opened and closed his mouth. Allison smiled at him.

"I already told da-, er- Mr. Stilinski that we're having a sleepover tonight." Rhiannon said. Scott seemed to struggle to tear his eyes away from Allison, but when he did he looked like a confused puppy.

Allison let herself in and set her bag down next to Lydia's. Rhiannon got up out of bed and stormed out to the living room. The sheriff was cracking open a beer and sitting on the couch with his feet up.

"Stiles and Scott are staying here tonight?" She asked. "Melissa asked me if they could and I said yes." he said. "But you said Allison and Lydia could sleepover." Rhiannon whined. "They can." "You're letting them sleepover while my friends are here?" Rhiannon asked in disbelief. "Oh come on, Rhiannon. I thought you liked Scott and Stiles." he said. "I do, when they aren't annoying my friends." "Do Scott and Stiles annoy you?" the sheriff asked, leaning back. Allison, Scott, and Lydia had followed her to the living room and were standing at the edge of the hallway. Allison shook her head with a pleasant smile. "No."

"Yes." Lydia said, crossing her arms. "Oh, you'll be fine." the sheriff responded, turning back to the game and turning up the volume. "But-," she started. There was a crash behind them. Stiles was on the floor in the hallway and everyone stepped aside to look at him. Rhiannon turned with her hand outstretched as this was explanation enough. The sheriff looked sympathetic, but said, "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Rhiannon groaned. Stiles had collected himself and was now standing next to Rhiannon.

"Yup! It'll be great!" he exclaimed and turned to Rhiannon. "The whole gang's all here. Hangin' out, havin' a sleepover." he said excitedly. Rhiannon punched his arm. He slapped her upside the head. She was about to leap on him when the sheriff stepped in and caught her around the stomach and Stiles staggered back.

"Girls in Rhiannon's room, boys in Stiles'. Move out."

Rhiannon swiftly marched to her room and waited on the girls. Before she slammed the door shut she peeked her head out and sent Stiles a middle finger when the sheriff wasn't looking. He tried to do it back but ran face-first into the threshold.

"Ugh I can't stand him!" She exclaimed to her friends. Allison was digging through her bag and Lydia was back at Rhiannon's desk. Lydia had taken to inspecting her perfect hair in the mirror and Allison pulled out a gun.

"WHA-t is that?!" Rhiannon exclaimed loudly at first and then softened her voice to a hushed whisper as she stepped forward as if to hide the weapon from prying eyes.

"You said you wanted some protection." Allison said innocently, as if this were the most obvious course of action. She was referring back to when Rhiannon had a conversation with Allison while she was attempting to learn archery at the school. She had sucked so badly, Rhiannon had completely given up the skill entirely.

"Yeah not a gun. I don't even know how to use it!" She bit out. Allison smirked and disarmed it, catching the amo with her other hand and pressing them separately into each one of Rhiannon's hands.

"This is the magazine," she instructed, "and this is the pistol. Safety off," she clicked a switch, "and on. Never point a weapon at anyone. Even as a joke, even if it's unarmed, and even with safety on."

Rhiannon absorbed the information like a sponge, tentatively alert as she took in Allison's words. Her heart had started to pound the moment the weapon was laid in her hands. Lydia was leaning forward too, pretending to be nonchilantly filing her nails but she had a spark of curiosity in her eyes.

"The barrel, trigger, magazine release. Put it in." Allison gestured to each part. Rhiannon took the magazine and attempted to shove it in. Allison turned it around in her hand. Rhiannon blushed and smiled awkwardly, and then shoved it hard inside. It clicked into place. "Slide stop. Go ahead and click it."

Rhiannon did. The top of the pistol slid back. "See this empty space? A bullet would normally sit here. Push it back and lock it again." Rhiannon did. She moved slower and clumsier than Allison, and the gun was harder to operate than how it looked on tv.

"Click the mag release button." Rhianon did and caught the magazine the same way Allison had. "Good. Hold it up and look down the sight." Rhiannon pointed it at the floor and extended her arms. Allison adjusted her hand's position and pointed to the groove at the top. "This is the back sight and this is the front. Always keep a firm frame when aiming. When you fire, plant your feet, lean back slightly, and stand up straight."

Rhiannon relaxed and handed the weapon back into Allison's open palms. She pressed them into a padded case and locked it shut. "The code is 0000. Change it so only you know the password. It's important to keep your weapons safe and hidden." Rhiannon nodded, taking the black case from her friend and staring down at it as if she was holding a bomb. She swiftly made her way to her closet and shoved it on the top shelf underneath piles of blankets and pillows.

"I'll take you to the range soon. It's easier to learn when you're actually shooting." Allison said. "No kidding." Lydia commented.

Rhiannon turned back. Her heart swelled. "Thank you, Allison." It was sincere, and soft. Allison laughed. "Of course, Rhiannon. It's nothing."

The door slammed open.

Scott barreled in alert as ever. Stiles was hot at his heels. Scott looked around the room like he’d expected to run into a hideous beast attacking his friends.

“What’s happening? Why was there—,” he hesitated to a low whisper, “gunpowder.”

There was an awkward moment of silence. Rhiannon looked at them with a murderous glare.

“Get. OUT!” She yelled and slammed the door in their faces.

—

[agentofreedom]

{You Can Road-Rage At Me Anytime - Read on AO3 }

Ch. 2: now we’re talking business

Read ch.1 on tumblr here

Unfortunately, luck was decidedly not on Violet’s side, evidenced by the ominous clunk-clunk-clunk that reverberated from Andarna’s engine when she turned her on the next morning and drove her out of the garage to better inspect her beloved. The noise had not been there the day before. Nor had the vibrating sensation under her feet when she pressed on the brake.

She parked on the side of the road outside her apartment, and popped open the bonnet, dread rising in her chest. She hadn’t actually expected to find any damage, but she had to admit - miserably - that she may have taken that turn to avoid the crash yesterday much too harshly for her aged (but well loved) car. She winced again at the memory of the screeching tyres - she had at least checked them first, and they were thankfully okay.

“Okay, girl, let’s get this over with,” she murmured, patting the shimmering bonnet before rolling up her sleeves and leaning in to get a closer look at the engine.

When Violet had spent almost her entire savings on Andarna, the car had been sitting at the dealership for a long while, having been overlooked by customers because of her custom paintjob. But Violet saw her and could hear the ghost of her dad’s voice rumbling in her head, his fondness for this car brought on by his own childhood constantly travelling through various states and counties with his parents thanks to their work and the only constant being their Chevy, his first home. And when she had slid into the driver’s seat, the interior wrapped itself around her like a welcome hug, and something inside her warmed up like a healing balm.

She threw herself into researching all the ways to best look after her car - after affectionately naming her Andarna, another ode to Dad - and no one could argue that when Violet put her mind to learning the ins and outs of something, that she wouldn’t master it.

“Shit,” she hissed presently, as she took stock of what had made the ticking noise. She reached for the snapped timing belt she could just about see the frayed ends of, tugging until the damage was clear. Narrowing her eyes, she peered at it, then hummed to herself. That didn’t explain the vibrations though.

She heaved a sigh and fished around some more, and was elbows-deep trying to get a look under, cursing and sweating, when her phone rang.

Groaning, Violet straightened up slowly and reached into her back pocket, grimacing at the oil on her fingers as she swiped at her phone. Devera, her screen alerted her, and her eyebrows shot up as she answered.

“Hello?”

“Violet,” her boss answered, “We’ve just had a new lead come in. How far are you?”

Violet pursed her lips. It wasn’t exactly unheard of to wrap up a case only for a new one to come their way immediately after - but it was definitely a rarity. “I’ll be there in 20.”

“I’ll fill you in as soon as you arrive,” she promised before shutting.

Well. That was strange. Violet blinked down at her phone, then at her car, the engine still on full display, and dropped her head back with a gusty sigh. “Looks like you’ll have to wait for me, girl,” she murmured, gently dropping the hood and locking her car before turning back to head inside her apartment.

Seventeen minutes later, she was stepping out of Rhi’s car, having scrubbed off the engine oil at home and freshened up, catching her friend before she could head down to her law firm down the road from Violet’s own workplace. She had ordered a new timing belt to arrive tonight so she could at least knock off one thing on her list by the time she returned home after work.

She blew a kiss back at her best friend and got one in return, then strode into the foyer, mind abuzz with what kind of priority lead they may have received if Devera hadn’t wanted to mention anything over the phone.

They’d had a couple of significant leads in the past like this.

Of course, Violet had a keen eye for high security leads considering her upbringing and consecutive distancing from Lilith Sorrengail, deputy chief of the law enforcement department, among other things that Violet had yet to work out. Well, and her mother. She hadn’t chosen to become a private eye after her father passed away just for the hell of it - although there was no doubt she sought the thrill of solving cases and piecing information together.

She nodded at Nadine at the front desk as she walked on through to Devera’s office, knocking lightly once before entering.

Whatever she had thought to find inside, she never would have expected to come face-to-face with one Cam Tauri, sitting across from a stern Devera. They both looked up as she stepped in, her wide eyes fixed on the familiar but more grown-up face of the Tauri family’s youngest. She shut the door behind her with a decisive click of the lock, not taking her eyes off him.

“Violet,” said Devera, motioning for her to sit. “It seems you’re both already acquainted.” Her keen gaze didn’t miss much.

Violet narrowed her gaze, not sure what game Cam was playing in coming here - she hadn’t heard from him in years, and she didn’t exactly trust his father or older brother Halden, so she held her tongue until he spoke first, clearing his throat.

“Yes, I… your reputation precedes you both, of course,” he said smoothly, glancing between the two women, the cool look of haughtiness covering his expression where Violet could see nervous lines before. “As I told your partner here,” he added to Violet, “I’m looking into my brother’s disappearance.”

“Your brother’s disappearance,” she replied, flatly.

Alic Tauri’s name had spread through their databases last year when his father, the chief of the law enforcement department - also her mother’s higher-up - had tried to hush up the details around his disappearance, seemingly embarrassed by whatever his incompetent foolhardy son had gotten caught up in and any damage to his own reputation as a result. But as far as Violet knew, Alic had gone off the rails a long time before that.

“And that,” said Devera flatly, “is the extent of what he’s told me.”

Violet looked at her carefully; she clearly did not know who sat before them. Again, what game was Cam playing?

“Well, yes, you see - I’d like to work with Sorrengail alone,” he added coolly.

She raised her eyebrows, and exchanged glances with an unimpressed Devera.

Devera was not exactly her boss, more so a mentor in the field, but she had many years of experience under her belt, not to mention her time with the military; so Violet trusted her expertise while also using her knowledge to gain a leg-up in the PI world. They worked almost all their cases together, Violet being much more suited for field work than her older counterpart, while Devera managed their databases and kept things running smoothly in the office.

“Well, then,” she said, spreading her hands as if to say go ahead to Violet. “You heard the man. He can follow you to your office.”

Cam met her eyes and stood up swiftly, waiting for Violet to take the lead. She communicated silently to Devera that she had this covered, and received a grim nod in return. The older woman may not know who exactly this was, but she clearly gathered he was more high profile than their usual leads.

Still silent, Violet ushered him into her office, closing the blinds of her windows and once again locking the door behind her.

“Alright.” She turned to him sharply, watching him stand up straight defiantly at her attention. “What’s this about, Cam?”

“Aaric,” he immediately said.

“What?” she asked, perturbed.

“You’re to call me Aaric in company, and not a peep of the family name,” he muttered, then seeing her deadly narrowed eyes, added, “Please, Violet.”

She let loose a long breath and counted to ten in her head. “And your brother? Alic? Am I also to call him by his middle name?” she asked, sarcastically.

He dropped his mask a bit to frown at her, having the nerve to actually look affronted. “Don’t be silly, we both know he’s dead.”

That caught her attention swiftly. Chewing on her bottom lip, Violet eyed him in a new light. He had grown, that was right, but there really was something else there - an edge in his eyes, the way he fixed his jaw, the light brown fuzz there and the shadow behind his scowl giving the look of someone who carried a hidden weight. Also, while she’d had her suspicions about the middle Tauri son, she hadn’t actually known for certain that he was dead, and she had definitely had much greater things to keep an eye out for over the past few years than the whereabouts or living status of the family of a man she despised.

“No,” Cam - or Aaric - continued, his eyes sweeping her room unseeingly in a nervous tic, seemingly unaware he had just dropped a minor bombshell on her. “That’s just my cover story.” When he looked back at her, Violet felt alarm bells start to ring in her head, almost wishing she could stop the next words from leaving his mouth. “What I really need you to do, is uncover my father’s secrets.”

–

When Violet had left the field of law that she had been studying with Rhi, to instead pursue a career as a private investigator, her closest friends hadn’t so much as batted an eye. They had seen how formidable she was in her research, how she was able to uncover facts about her case studies and piece together the relevant laws and procedures in a fraction of the timespan it took some of her peers. They didn’t question her motives, besides that she was a natural at the job.

She had never told a single soul what pushed her to make the leap.

Not even Mira, who had spent the better half of six months going between her and their mother, thinking she had had a hand in the youngest Sorrengail’s decision, and then trying to convince her ‘baby’ sister that law was what she was meant to do, and didn’t she remember what Dad had always envisioned for her? But when she had seen that Violet had made up her mind and had gone into the PI world with all the finesse and cunning of a seasoned investigator, she had taken a step back and become one of Violet’s fiercest cheerleaders.

But still, Violet didn’t tell her.

For all that anyone knew, their eldest brother Brennan - detective lieutenant of his own police squad - had died in an accident, a leaked gas explosion, years ago on a job that their mother had authorised. That Tauri had authorised. He had supposedly been chasing a trail on one Riorson, of Riorson and Sons, a cybersecurity firm that Lilith Sorrengail had had viciously shut down in a power move one night a few years ago following Brennan’s death, on various counts of fraud and money laundering. But Violet knew that Brennan, in the weeks leading up to this alleged case, had been following leads on an unrelated homicide charge - although how she knew that was arguably not within the bounds of ‘legal’.

Their father’s health had become incredibly poor in the months after, the loss of his son and firstborn a heavy weight on his already-tired heart, and the grief that followed had torn the Sorrengail family apart for good.

Violet hadn’t communicated with her mother in a good four years - but that didn’t mean she hadn’t kept tabs on her…. and, consequently, on Tauri Senior.

Not even Devera knew what Violet kept in her own personal databases; and now, Cam Tauri stood before her, about to unravel all that she had been working on in the background, by his mere presence.

–

Violet was faintly surprised she hadn’t worn a hole right down her office carpet from how many circles she had paced while Cam spoke.

Besides his casual sharing of his brother’s fate, he had not mentioned anything so far that Violet was not already aware of. Tauri Senior was running a tight ship in the law enforcement agency, those closest to him kept quiet regarding his real motives behind certain moves - such as the Riorson case - which he had administered charges against with a swiftness and brutality that belied the usual bureaucratic processes around here. The man had made many enemies on the streets, that much she knew, and of course Lilith was right up there with him, her hands allegedly just as dirty. But she could not prove it, or uncover what exactly they were working on, or why it all felt so shifty except that her gut - which had not steered her wrong yet - told her there was more underneath the surface.

And then, Cam uttered words she had to pause and repeat, confused. “Wait, did you say you think he has his hands on VENIN tech?”

“Yes,” Cam said grimly.

“But…” She trailed off, thinking fast. “How? Barrens Inc. got shut down long before they finalised that kind of tech, and with good reason.”

“Shut down by who?” he asked pointedly.

“Fuck.”

“Exactly.”

How had she missed this? “How are they operating it? Are they operating it? It was meant to be breakthrough research that had backed it up, it’s not something any old engineer can just run,” she ruminated, thinking out loud. Cam watched her silently. “This changes everything. We’re not supposed to be thinking about using that kind of technology on civilians, not even by the law enforcement.” How many layers were hiding under the widespread corruption that she still had no real leads on?

Well - no leads until now.

“Yeah, well,” Cam muttered, dropping his head into his hands tiredly. “We can’t have our enemies threatening public security now, can we? Of course we need every heads-up we can possibly use.”

Something about his words niggled at Violet’s already whirring brain, besides the thick sarcasm coating his tone, but she moved sharply behind her desk and fired up her personal laptop instead of pulling on that thread. She could not use the shared databases for this - it was much too risky for anyone, even Devera, to catch even a whiff of what they might be working on - so she settled into her chair and pulled up her own databases instead.

“Right,” she said, ignoring the twinge in her shoulder as she began to type rapidly. “Here’s what we need…”

–

It was well past sundown by the time Violet slipped out of the cab she’d taken home, letting him drop her off at the beginning of her street rather than her doorstep so she could walk in the silent, dark, cool night air for a few minutes, needing a respite from the hours of thinking and trying to piece together pieces that refused to fit.

She paused by Andarna to sweep a hand over her metallic bonnet, half-wishing she could have spent the day tinkering away here instead of this relentless weight of Cam’s - Aaric’s, she had to remind herself - new lead. She shook her head, continuing up the steps of her building to her unit. There was a small delivery box waiting for her outside her door, and she checked the sticker to find that it was indeed the car’s timing belt she had ordered earlier that day.

At least one thing would be fixed by tomorrow morning.

Remembering the shuddering of her car underneath her feet when she had braked to park earlier that day, Violet grimaced. She knew it was the brake pads. They had needed a service before her last job which had taken the better part of a fortnight, and lots of driving around, so she knew logically that it had only been a matter of time before they gave up. It was just her luck that they happened in this moment.

As she let herself into her small home, throwing herself gladly on the couch to finally lay still on a horizontal surface (her aching joints thanked her loudly), she let herself think of the mysterious X in her phone contacts list. She knew that she could ideally claim the damages to her car from his own insurance, as she had already insinuated to him that she would do, but the idea of going through that whole process with insurances and making claims was enough to flare up a headache; let alone talking to him again which set her stomach twisting uncomfortably. Now that her mind was slowing down from the constant whirr of the Tauri lead, she couldn’t shake off the lingering intensity of his dark gold-flecked gaze as she wondered for the umpteenth time what a man like that was doing running - or speeding - away from that ferocious woman who had followed him.

She had unlocked her phone and found his number while thinking. She had to snort at the pretentious ‘X’ he had labelled himself - had he not realised she had caught his name from the woman, Catriona? Or was he accustomed to going around putting his contact details in girls’ phones under a solitary initial? Maybe he thought it added to his dark and mysterious charm-

Charm? Her brain definitely meant something else.

But - she stubbornly moved her thought process on - he had purposefully chosen to give her his number. This told her, at surface level, a few things:

1. He didn’t want her to have his licence details which, coupled with the fact that he hadn’t given her his entire first name, added to her certainty that he was holding onto some sort of privacy with regards to his identity.

2. He didn’t take her number, so he was sure that she was going to contact him.

3. That meant he knew he was at fault and that she likely had damaged something in her car to need to contact him in the first place.

4. He was an arrogant piece of work.

She huffed a breath, feeling frustrated all over again.

Never one to ignore a challenge, she pressed the call button and raised the phone to her ear.

Maybe she was just keen for a distraction.

The phone only rang once before that low voice answered. “Yes?”

What was she doing?

Violet set her jaw. “It’s me.”

There was a pause on the other end. She, once again, quashed the flush that rose up her chest at her own nonsensical response.

She heard a faint mutter of what might have sounded like ‘violence’ but before she could demand coherence, he said clearly - and she could hear the cocky smirk in his voice, “Thought I’d never hear from you. What with how hot and bothered you were yesterday, I figured you’d waste no time assessing your damages and ripping me a new one as soon as you got home.”

Did this dickhead think this was a game? She sat up, shooting back sharply, “I’m flattered you were waiting for me.”

He chuckled, a quiet sound that sent tingles straight down her traitorous spine. “You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you?”

What the hell. “I wouldn’t sound quite so cocky if I were in your position,” she gritted out.

“And why not?”

“Because, you asshole, you owe me repairs, like I said.”

“I’ll Venmo you the amount,” he said easily, as if he hadn’t given her a headache yesterday arguing with her about who was at fault.

She pulled the phone away for a second to rub a hand down her face, irritated all over again. She returned it to snap, “What’s your deal?”

“What’s your deal?” he snapped back, and she narrowed her eyes in a deathly glare that she hoped reached him somehow.

“I’m sorry?!”

“You called me for your repairs, and I agreed. What’s your issue, exactly?”

“You!” she cried, forgetting for a moment that she was speaking to someone who was probably involved in the kinds of things she was usually hired to uncover, if yesterday’s weird exchange was anything to go by. “My issue is that you’re infuriating to deal with, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make you special. You’ll have to get in line,” he growled.

That voice and his words were doing opposite and confusing things to her body, and she was really starting to regret this entire phone call.

She huffed, not caring that it sent static down the line. “Fine, whatever. I’m texting you the amount. I’d like to get Andarna back on the road in the next couple days ideally. Work doesn’t wait.”

Another brief pause, then a surprised, “Andarna?”

Ugh, she did not need a hot stranger’s judgement at this point. “Yes,” she said shortly. “Goodbye, Xaden.”

She felt a fierce vindication when she heard a very audible surprised breath sucked in from his end, before she shut the line in lieu of the flipped bird she really wished she could send him instead.

She texted him her Venmo with just her first name for reference, and the amount for repairs after taking a moment to search up the required parts; then tossed her phone aside and dropped her head back on her couch’s headrest, doing her best to relax and release the tension in her neck and shoulders. It was no use, she was ten times more wound tight than she had been before the stupid phone call.

Her phone dinged three times with consecutive notifications, and she groaned, shutting her eyes tightly. She didn’t need to see what the messages read. It wasn’t important.

But her traitorous hand inched towards the phone anyway, and without opening it she read the replies on her lock screen:

X

Done.

7:43 PM

X

Violet, huh? Looks like Violence suits you.

7:44 PM

And the third was a notification confirming she had received the amount deposited into her account.

She stared at the two messages until her phone screen dimmed. This confusing man was not going to let her mind rest, clearly.

[silurisanguine]

Dragon Age Inquisition - my favourite Inquisitors

Since the fandom has risen like a new Blight dragon, I thought it was time to share my favourite Inquisitors. if anyone else wants to do this, consider it an open tag, I want to see your favourite Inquisitors!

Name: Estelle Trevelyan Class and Speciality: Mage - Knight Enchanter Romanced: Cullen Rutherford (Married, so got him off Lyrium.) Events: Softened Leliana and made her Divine / Saved Chargers/ Freed Mages / Trevalyan gossip stopped with diplomacy / Cole human / Gave Blackwall his freedom / Stroud stayed in Fade / Wardens allied / Celene empress with Briala / Morrigan drank from well / Told Cassandra to reform Seekers / Inquisition as peacekeepers/ NOT Red Jenny /Wants to redeem Solas Best friends: Dorian, Lelianna, Jospephine, Cassandra, Bull, Varric. Appearance: Has white hair due to a magic spell gone wrong, her hair was once almost black. There is a small scar over her left eye from the accident that she covers with her hair. She originally had hazel eyes like amber before the Anchor turned them green. Bio: Estelle is, even with her past forced life in the Circle; caring, empathetic, charming and friendly with everyone, as she wants to see the good in everyone and felt betrayed by both Solas and Vivienne's use of her. Though she had some bad experiences with Templars she knows they are not all the same and easily fell in love with Cullen, understanding where his pain came from. She reconciled with Vivienne later down the line, though warned her if she ever did that again, there would be consequences and to not mistake her kindness for weakness. Due to her life in the Circle, she has a troubled relationship with the Chantry and was more than happy when the Circle disbanded as she believe no one should be shackled due to their nature and that Andraste's words were twisted to serve someone else's power. She considers herself Andrastian and that Andraste was a mage. She hoped having a mage as Inquisitor would help show one could be in power and yet not dominate the world. She wants the chance to talk Solas down, to try and find another way, but she will stop him if she must. ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Name: Rhiannon 'Raven' Lavellan Class and Speciality: Mage - Necromancer Romanced: Cullen Rutherford (married him, so he quit Lyrium) Events: Hardened Leliana and made her Divine / Saved Chargers / Conscripted Mages / Cole human / Made Blackwall a real warden / Celene empress with Briala/ Saved their clan/ Told Cassandra to disband Seekers and share secret/ Left Hawke in Fade / Allowed Wardens to stay /Morrigan drank from well (Rhi almost did but she was tied to Falon'Din not Mythal through her vallaslin)/ Disbanded Inquisition /Not Red Jenny / Willing to stop Solas. Best friends : Dorian and Leliana. Appearance: She bares the vallaslin of Falon'Din so the irony of being a necromancer is not lost on her, but she tends to only raise the dead of shemlen. Her clan say her hair is as black as the ravens that often follow her. Rhiannon's eyes were always green, but of a much duller hue than what they are now thanks to the Anchor's magic. Bio: My angry little Dalish Necromancer who didn't trust the conclave and went to spy on it. Saw through Solas's bullshit the moment she met him and didn't trust him, going so far as to punch him. Hated being considered the Herald of Andraste because she didn't believe in the shemlen god and spat back at any comment regarding it. Saw Vivienne's game so refused her offer to join. Decided if Thom Rainier wanted to be a Warden so badly then he should, to atone for his past crimes. It took two shemlen- a certain former Templar with a troubled past and a cheeky Tevinter necromancer to sooth her nature and she agreed to be Inquisitor because the rifts threatened her clan too. Chose Leliana as less of three evils, because she knew the other choices would be worse for her people. She went back to where her clan were with Cullen after disbanding the Inquisition and built a home outside the city walls of Wycombe where he is loved as one who helped save their clan, even going so far as to have a bonding ritual with her. She was surprised how welcomed she was by the Rutherford family and through them has mellowed even further, especially with how the clan are liked in Wycombe. ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Name: Kara Tevelyan Class and speciality : Rogue - Assassin (archer) Romanced: Blackwall/ Thom Rainier. Events: Hardened Leliana and made her Divine / Saved Chargers / Seeker's secret to be known, but let Seeker's end / Freed mages / Cole human / Celene Empress with Briala/ Cullen quit Lyrium/ Trevelyan house gossip stopped with force / Freed Blackwall / left Alister in Fade/ Allied Wardens / Morrigan drank from well / Inquisition peacekeepers /Did not become Red Jenny / Will do what's needed to stop Solas. Best friends : Dorian, Varric and Leliana. Appearance: Bears a scar down the left side of her face, a result of a target getting a lucky hit. She wears her hair short now for practicality after said target grabbed her ponytail. Kara's eyes were once blue till the Anchor magic overwhelmed them. Bio: A black sheep of the Trevelyans. Her family sent her to protect those in her family going to the Conclave. She has been an assassin for them in their own version of the great Game, so she knew when Vivienne was playing it and choose not to accept her offer. She didn't enjoy being seen as anything to do with the Chantry as she didn't believe in the Maker, but felt Leliana could change it for the better, and took the role of Inquisitor to try and heal the land and do some good for once. She always admired the Wardens, after hearing many stories of their heroic deeds and thought Blackwall was brave to go alone. She knew he was keeping something from her, but also knew of many Wardens having dark pasts so when she found out the truth, she thought of suggesting he become one for real, but couldn't bear to lose him to the Calling so set him free instead. She is angry with Solas, but also understands his dilemma. She spends her time still as Inquisitor with Thom as her pillar of support. ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Name: Arwyn Lavellan Class and Speciality: Rogue - Tempest archer Romanced: Dorian Pavus Events: Softened Leliana & made her Divine / Saved his clan / Saved Chargers / Rebuild seekers / Cole human / Celene Empress with Briala/ Freed Blackwall / Left Alistair in Fade/ Allied Wardens / Morrigan drank from the Well / Inquisition Peacekeepers / Became Red Jenny / Wants to redeem Solas. Best friends: Varric, Sera and Bull Appearance: White blonde hair is rare in his clan and he was given the name meaning 'very fair' to celebrate it. Has the vallaslin for Mythal, so was kind of a shock to sort of meet her through Flemeth. But he did not drink from the Well as Dorian was scared for him, telling him later he sensed more than just memories in the water. Arwyn's eyes were a silver grey till the Anchor magic changed them. Bio: Arywn loves exploring, so being asked to scout the Conclave and leave his clan's home was a dream come true and also to get away from being tied into a bonding with someone he didn't love to continue the clan. Ignored when people called him the Herald, knowing he was in a foreign land and already seen as something dangerous so didn't want to rock the boat. Accepted becoming Inquisitor because no one else would do it and hoped a Dalish leading them might help relations. Fell for Dorian the moment they first met and bonded with him over a similar dilemma of being able to love who they wanted. He often visits his Amatus when he can between his own duties. ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

I have quite a few others including a mage Adaar Bullmancer, A Cadash sword and shield Champion Templar supporter and a Solavellan, But they are not playthroughs I enjoyed as much as the above.

[slumberingsanctuary]

second lil fact, just aging in general

I have altered the dragons aging system for this blog to make it more cat like (i didn't figure out how to edit the code till like moon 90 so i couldn't make em stay kits for a year then apprentices for another year😔)

Normally they're adults as 6 years but for rhis they're an adult at 2 years, for all species

The species do grow at different rates tho (sandhides growing the fastest and stone breakers the slowest)

Frill dancers and ribbon rings don't stop growing so they'll keep getting new designs every two years or so

Stone breakers are fully grown physically by three or four years (horns and tail take awhile)

Everything else is fully grown at 1 (including sandhides but i haven't designed any hatchlings yet so maybe I'll change it since they're supposed to grow fastest)

For markings i do plan on making them change slightly throughout every design, like becoming more vibrant or more solid

In terms of eggs, function the same as in game ig, when a queen announces they're expecting kits i just say they laid egg's, and i ignore second moon prompts because idk how to translate that into eggs, you already laid them wdym you think you'll have a large litter, there's only two eggs

Unless it's a chaosflame in which case i say they took the eggs to a hotter environment to hatch (lore thing I'll get into later at some point in time)

[sungpeach]

n a v i g a t i o n

hi yall i'm demi (26, they/she, pacific) and this is sung! feel free to give this a like or dm me on discord at demi6468 if you'd like to plot

if you're wondering if i'm the demi you know... probably. it's been a while since i've done tumblr rp so pls bear w me. this barbie is also a shawol so expect constant references in and out of character. that said, more sung info (sungfo, if u will) below:

-----

background:

grew up poor but then listened to paris hilton and just stopped being poor (or, as history will say, his parents' restaurant business blew up)

moved around quite a bit in older child/tween years as the business grew

was an idol fan from a young age, but the 'rents wanted sung as their business successor

sucks 4 them sung became a trainee anyway. was set for debut after a couple years but that fell through, then the company started treating him as a model instead of an idol and it wore him down and he left

took on military service

didn't give up on his dream tho, joined another company after coming back and worked as a back up dancer for a fallback

tldr for the ending survival show > temporary group > disbandment > solo

personality:

vitamin, sunshine, kind, sweet, polite, hopeless romantic, hard working, determined, introspective, dreamer, overthinker, judgmental, gives himself very good advice but very seldom follows it, can be a bit manipulative (though he doesn't think he is)

he's a pisces, for context on all the above. also a crybaby. cries for happiness, sadness, anything in between

sung's idol self and true self aren't particularly different, idol sung is just more careful/shows negative traits less. he has a pretty good reputation, and a lot of his Brand relies on being likable

the biggest actual difference is sung's a raging homo, which ofc isn't public knowledge

introverted extrovert. most would class him as an extrovert, but he really needs the time to have a cool down period

plots:

sung loves to read, so fellow readers are an easy connection

cares Very Much about music and dance. while he's a known kpop gg stan, he has a decent range of taste in music. over his idol career, he's developed a strong love for songwriting and choreographing to where at this point he's not particularly interested in releasing anything his hands Haven't touched. this is a great place for other diehards/creatives to connect, but also where sung's negative traits could come out. he could be quick to judge someone's commitment level and react poorly due to it

it'd be Lovely to fill the role of a choreographer that sung really respects and has a close relationship with. preferably not an idol for this one, but they would be the person who co-choreographed and starred in sung's move! i see this relationship as one where their passions about dance line up very well and it was an instant connection. they could have worked together at other points as well, like choreographing for bsides for his first solo concert

that said, would also love other dancers that he keeps on retainer for releases and performances! as he cares so much about his ~art~ he really wants to keep those he feels align with his work. so the same faces pop up a lot. he's very loyal and gives flowers (mostly metaphorical but literal too) to all staff and crew, whether they're on stage with him or not

also loves romantic dramas. he's less knowledgable in other fields (least knowledgable in horror) but still partakes. he's just more likely to sims 4 get famous scream and faint over a romance actor

any athletes i am so sorry to tell u this gayby has no clue who you are

other survival group members! idt i'll make it an official wanted ad since i left everything so vague, but there are so many directions for that. i also Headcanon jsj (the temp group) to being a pseudo sibling group with rhiannon and yebin's viv:id 🤓

i'd love for another vivid member to come and be the feat on sung's song be your enemy! yebin was karina in want and rhi was seulgi on heart stop so it'd be fun to continue the trend

another negative place to come from could be just catching sung on a bad day back when he was pushed as a model in his og company. he was very worn out, discouraged, and idk teen hormones im sure didn't make it easier. on the flip side, someone supporting him then would be lovely

the easiest way to tick sung off without much effort has to do with politeness. he gives a lot more grace to foreigners, but really doesn't stand for it from born koreans

i mention negative ideas most since those are hardest for nice muses BUT in gen, sung is kind of a 'friend of the industry' guy. though, especially when he was younger, he had a hard time picking up on cues from people that they didn't want to be friends. he's pretty full on and touchy straight away. loves him a little cuddle

with romance, he's a chronic falling in love with friends-er. but he's also a True hopeless romantic so a guy says smth nice to him once and he walks away with a little bit of a crush 9/10 times. doesn't tend to go for his best interests, so negative romantic r/s are welcome too (past or present)

also he had a gf sometime when he was around 16-18, so that could be fun to play with!

[crowning-art]

TGCF HUGE SPOILERS!!

------------------------------------------------

This scene was just soo funny tho, like this barely sentient demon baby had enough understanding to realize these next few actions of his are reaallllyyy gonna mess up this person he hates and it's gonna be sooooo worth it lol

Just then, that fetus spirit suddenly started howling, jumping between the two, spitting that giant white radish onto the ground then kicking it forcefully with its back legs. That giant white radish with a few bites missing was sent flying and smacked squarely into Feng Xin’s face, creating a big DONG! noise!

I feel so bad for Feng Xin, like perhaps in a other life, he may be a happy father, with a loving wife and healthy and wonderful son who would grow up and be someone great....and yet. And I dunno, is it guilt that he still reached out Jian Li to take care of her or does he still care for her...I wonder....

THIS GUY I SWEAR, SO SNEAKY

Don’t borrow spiritual powers from me” was Hua Cheng’s order. If Xie Lian was to prove the robe he was wearing right now wasn’t the Brocade Immortal then he must not obey Hua Cheng’s order. Which meant, he had to do the opposite thing—“borrow spiritual powers from Hua Cheng”.

LOL THIS IMAGE HERE IS KINDA CUTE like two kids being caught by their mom or smt

Ling Wen was probably done resting and was ready to return to put the Brocade Immortal back on. Yet she ran into the two uninvited guests who had broken into the chamber, one looking incredibly innocent while the other looked nonchalant.

Of all the things I expected them to walk in on, this was THE last for sure

Within the chamber, Guoshi and three others formed a full table, and they were in the middle of a heated game of cards, their passion and obsession blinding them from their surroundings.

Welp...there goes my theory (that I already discarded ages ago lol) that Crown Prince of Wuyong was reincarnated as Xie Lian lol

“The only relationship you share with the Crown Prince of Wuyong is that he destroyed your kingdom, Xianle.”

THIS??? THIS PHRASE CAUSED ALL THE PROBLEMS??? BUT HOW THO??

“Body in abyss; heart in paradise,” Guoshi replied.

Oh my lord. It's just like what happened with Xie Lian...the exact same....I'm literally so shook rn

“It was impossible to stop the volcano from erupting, and if we wanted no one to be hurt, then the only option was to migrate. However, the affected areas were too great; it wasn’t just a matter of one or two city fortresses. To the nobles and the common people, the best way was to invade other Kingdoms, take over new land; otherwise, the other Kingdoms wouldn’t so easily allow such a great number of people from Wuyong to move in

literally moving Yongan, invading Xianle, trying to save everyone....it's all the EXACT same!

When Goushi said that Jun Wu was many times more than what Xie Lian was as crown prince, I realized it also extended to other aspects as well...

“He took on three things at once: the ignorance and grumbling complaints of the nobles and people of Wuyong, the incessant outrage of all the gods in heaven, and that giant Heaven Crossing Bridge.”

Xie Lian only had to take 2 out of 3 things here and Jun Wu had to take all 3...my god

THIS

BUT XIE LIAN AND THE STATUE HE HELD UP WHEN HIS KINGDOM WAS FALLING OH MY GOD THIS INSANE RHIS CRAZY I KINDA SAW THIS COMING BUT TO BE THE EXACT SAME???? I AM SHOOK BEYOND BELIEF

“His Highness became more and more silent and closed off, using his own powers to construct that bridge and support it up. I watched him every day, and while he said nothing, I could tell just how much he suffered inside. And this suffering could only be borne by him on his own; no matter how much the four of us wanted to help him, we couldn’t lighten his burden.

I-

Guoshi continued, “The heavenly rainbow was ripped. Millions of people, a dense and crammed crowd, suddenly dropped from the sky in an instant, wailing and screaming heart-wrenchingly as they fell into a sea of fire, and burnt to ashes right before the eyes of His Highness!

I can't even begin to imagine what his expression must have been in that moment. My heart is breaking for Jun Wu so much rn

ITS THE SAME!! XIE LIAN HAD TO KILL SOMEONE TOO FJFJFJCJCJFJ IM LOSING MY MIND I CANT

Correct,” Guoshi replied. “His Highness said, find a batch of bad people, use those fiends as a sacrifice, throw them into the Kiln, and pacify its fires of fury. The four of us all had different thoughts on this, but the general consensus was disagreement.

The moment I read this line:

Even if they were really angry against His Highness, they wouldn’t be angry with me too. At the very least, they wouldn’t have stopped all communication with me.”

I had this EXACT expression LIKE EXACT

It's like I didn't even need to read further to confirm it...

And to think that til this day, the faces of his friends are still on his face....

I can't even imagine what I'm gonna read next in Jun Wu's story

I literally cannot expect anything to get better any time soon 😵‍💫

[mitchvnderson]

Hey, look! It’s MITCH ANDERSON at PIZZAGEDDON. Did you know they WORKS there as a PIZZA DELIVERY PERSON? I guess they’re from NEW YORK CITY and have been in town for TEN YEARS, living in PIZZAGEDDON. I also heard they’re a little INSECURE, but also very GOOFY which definitely makes sense.

TRIGGERS: Divorce, marijuana use, health issues

THE DETAILS ;

Full Name: Mitchell Ryan Anderson

Nickname(s): Mitch

Age: 23

Birthdate: May 5th

Aesthetics: Cold pizza, tie dyed shirts, dusty acoustic guitars, worn out converse, poorly rolled blunts

Zodiac: Taurus.

Sexuality: Straight

Occupation: Pizza Delivery Boy

Height: 6'2

Weight: 170

Build: Lanky

BIO ;  

Mitch is the youngest of 3 siblings and grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth. His parents were both very well off and successful music producers.

Mitch was kinda the odd man out in his family. He wasn't the most attractive of his siblings, nor was he the most popular. His brother was an all star athlete and class president. His older sister, Anna, was the the prom queen and cheer captain.

When Mitch was 12 his whole world changed. His parents ended up divorcing so his father could start a new life with his new boyfriend. His mother got full custody of him and his sister who were still under age and moved back to her home town of East Haven.

Mitch's family was easily one of the most wealthy in East haven, which put a target on him in school. Because not only was he rich, he was awkward, had braces, horrible acne, and new his freshman year of high school.

Mitch would have despised his entire high school experience if it wasn't for one girl in particular, Rhiannon Spring. From the moment he laid eyes on her, Mitch fell head over heals for her. though it took him forever to muster up the courage to ask her out on a date. But the two clicked, and it wasn't long before he said I love you. Eventually, Rhi said it back.

The two were an odd couple. Clearly from different worlds and social circles. But their love was strong. Unfortunately Mitch's mother drove a wedge between the two and they broke up. Mitch's world was shattered once again. When Rhi broke his heart his whole world came crashing down, not only did he loose his girlfriend, he lost his best friend.

As much as it seemed that Mitch had a charmed life, it was lonely. His father and older brother weren't a part of his life. His sister was always out god knows where doing god knows what, and his mother, well more often then not she was away on business.

Mitch is back from college. Having both simultaneously flunked/dropped out, Mitch's mother is furious with him.

The college Mitch attended was Boston College. He was a Business administration and management but was struggling because he hated it, but his mother didn't care and support him wanting to change majors so now he's cut off.

Now Mitch is working as a pizza delivery boy, putting tons of miles on his fancy sports car he really can't afford anymore and living off free pizza

Though he went away for college, Mitch never really left East Haven aside from college. He would come back for breaks and moved back home when school was out.

Mitch was premature and has a weak heart though he's never had any problems from it yet

Mitch has only had 3 girlfriends. Rhi was his first girlfriend, first kiss, first everything.

He's legit a stereotypical "teen" boy even if he's not a teen anymore. Does nothing but play video games, smoke weed, and eat junk food. But he's really got a heart of gold.

Mitch's family, mainly his brother and grandparents put this idea of what a "man" should be in his head and he struggles with that sometimes

This is the first job he's had aside from doing landscaping in the summer for his grandparents when he was a teen

Family ;

Abigail Anderson: Estranged Mother Michael Anderson: Estranged Father Noah Anderson: Estranged Older Brother Angela Anderson: Older Sister Andon Anderson: Nephew

Wanted connections ;

Best friend: Co workers: Old classmates: Enemies: Acquaintances/friends of his mother/family: Ex Girlfriends (1/3): @rhixspring

[saintmurd0ck]

hey babe hope ur doing well. i've been scrolling through ur nyc posting and... ur making me miss nyc sm i'm actually tearing up. i love. that fuckin city so much idk how to describe it. i know it sounds so fckin stupid and cliche but legit since i was little i wanted to live there.

seeing it in shows and movies when i was little and becoming obsessed with various marvel characters who lived in different boroughs (my main one being matt ofc lol)

and then visiting for the first like a few years ago and staying in the city a long weekend and finding little local places to eat. getting into the residential areas and everything just feels so... right.

you can hear people moving down on the street, you can see the chrysler building from your window, you can hear the ambulances and the construction workers and the trash collectors, you can smell the food the neighbors are cooking when you step out in the tiniest hall and into the tiniest elevator

seeing people talking and yelling at each other from open windows cause these people have lived here years and sitting there eating the best damn food youve had in your life from a tiny hole in the wall place on the edge of china town.

going across the street and down steps into a second hand bookstore where the floorboards creak with EVERY step and the back is literally a shed shoved up to the door taking up most of an alleyway and you just feel so fucking at peace and alive because the city is alive and FUCK

the subway and the architecture and the PEOPLE

RHI the first time i ever visited i was doing all the dumb tourist things and was walking through hells kitchen (didn't even realize I was at the time) and some middle age guy stops me on the street

he has a thick ny accent and starts asking me about my day and if i'm a tourist and what attractions ive visited and hes cracking jokes and acting like he's known me for years and telling me about his wife and hows hes traveled the world and giving me tips on how to dodge random vendors

and he tells me he stopped me cause i reminded him of his kids and he says "oh, welcome to hell's kitchen by the way, best part of the whole city"

and i. i'm so fucking broke im so broke but i swear im going to live there i have to live there i have to

and i thought it would wear off, cause that's what everyone says. the more you visit the more trash you see and the more bad things you see. and you do. i saw more trash and rats and all of that but. it just made me fall in love with it more

everyone's just there, trying to survive and trying to live their lives and i love that. yeah it has it's problems but i don't care. every time i visit i see one bad thing and twenty good things, and twenty-one reasons to love that stupid city even more

anyways let me actually shut the fuck up, ily hun, hope your day continues to get better

i am absolutely over the fucking moon receiving this, ren. i hope you know how much it means to me that you took the time to write all of this out and share your thoughts with me. firstly let me say, i feel like new york city is kinda a city of clichés, but they're all true. it has this... magic to it, and it kinda sucks you in.

when you say everything feels right, i know exactly!!!! what you mean. here i was, in a country i'd never stepped foot in before, over 15 thousand km (9320 miles) away from familiarity, but yet i knew what i was doing. it felt like some kind of puzzle piece had just clicked into place, and it only took me 21 years to find out.

i feel that the thing with new york is, the residents all have the same thing to say. "oh yeah this city fucking sucks" or some sort of variation on the criticism. but at the end of the day -- at the end of the day, they step back and think, "oh yeah, i live here. in new york freakin city." and it's such a bonding thing.

i thought it would wear off too, and after a while you'd just get used to it and everything would be mundane, but it never felt like that. even being back home, back to reality, i'm pining for it. the thing i've stressed the most about going away is that it never was a holiday. it was never supposed to be that. it was actually the chance for me to go there and ask myself honestly: "can i actually live here? would i like it?" and i am so glad i proved myself right.

so yeah, let's get an apartment in hell's kitchen. let's wake up to the sound of traffic and sirens and someone yelling on the street below, then go for coffee where the baristas pretend to care about our coffee orders (until they do). everything's a subway ride away, one way or another. fuck it, let's go on the staten island ferry at three in the morning and laugh about all the people who've paid $200 to go see lady liberty (when they can be doing it for free).

the city is alive, and while it can take and take and take from you, it leaves a part of its magic in your soul. and you know what? i'm fine with it.

the city awaits with open arms...

and i can't wait to go back.

[arealcrow]

🗡️ Adina - 2, 9, 17, 22

2. What would break your OC beyond repair? Has it happened?

his sister and mom dying would break him. there's a lot of things that could break him emotionally that he could still force himself to function through, but he's dedicated his life to making his mom proud and building an empire for his sister to run. without that, he'd be lost.

and i think similarly, losing his entire party would break him, albeit more slowly. losing rhi has already put him in a very weird and goal focused place, its been hard for him to connect to his feeling with so much turmoil, losing anyone else would be rough.

9. What is the greatest sacrifice your OC could ever make? Under what circumstance would they make it?

he's already halfway into making that sacrifice with his contract tbh. there was a part of him that was ready to die that day, but the chance to alleviate pressure from his family drew him back. giving up his autonomy entirely and becoming a vessel for some greater evil would probably be the worst it could get, and i could . definitely see him sacrificing himself for his family and friends

17. What is your OC’s greatest failure?

ough theres so many. he's gotten a people killed on jobs before, just by being reckless and forcing people to follow him into dangerous situations. you'd think getting his best friend killed at a young age wouldve forced him to wise up...

22. What is your OC the most guilty about?

the first soul he took for the broker. he didnt want to come home empty handed, just wanted to get it over with, so he did something out of desperation that he still regrets.

also the fact that he hasn't made any real effort to free his mom and rebuild their empire has started to weigh on him. he's focused on making sure he and mona are okay right now, but the guilt eats at him.

[shepherd-tothestars]

Zossie, what can you tell us about your home planet?

"I'm not sure what you mean by 'home planet'. Ultra Space is one contained plane of existence filled with all kindsa crazy energy. Because of the unstable energy, wormholes tend to link it to other worlds, but Ultra Space and Ultra Megalopolis itself aren't anything close to a planet like the one the humans live on. I can tell you alot about Ultra Space and Ultra Megalopolis though!"

She isn't the biggest history buff of her home, you'd have to ask the Captain or Soliera for all that, and even then they'd cut out most of the details, but she knew well how things worked in the modern era. Zossie was part of the never-ending cycle of darkness, after all. She's grown up in it, and she's hoping to change it.

"Ultra Space is really dangerous for most people to travel, including us Ultra Humans! Only really qualified people are allowed to leave the city. I'm one of them! The Ultra Recon Squad are the people running the city, too, but I don't do any of that. My job is all about research, and what we research is to help the Blinding One who's kept in the central tower of the city, Megalo Tower. Since it's so dark because the Blinding One is hurt, they use its body held inside the tower to synthesize artificial energy and cast it across the city from where it's kept. The city's buildings are made out of large crystals that reflect the light across the entire place. Artificial light is super important for us!"

"...There's no food in Ultra Space, nothing like what humans eat. I was taught Ultra Humans used to eat food like that, but not anymore since a lot of things died out when the Blinding One stole all the light. So we've changed to use the artificial light to survive. We drink water and rest in these machine-looking things called the Artificial Light Revitalizers to get our energy back. But ever since arriving in Alola, I decided I really hate that! Human food is really tasty! It's really upsetting the Blinding One took that away from us!!!" She had a grudge with the very thing they were trying to heal, but could anyone really blame her?

"Babies are raised in specialized ALRs. I was in one for about um... thirty years? Yeah, that's the usual amount of time. People in the city don't like to waste too much time and energy doing things, we're all focused on work and research to try healing the Blinding One... That includes just doing fun things or spending any time together that isn't involved with research. That's why Dulse always gets all grumpy when he's actually enjoying something in the human world, he feels guilty too since it's something our society just doesn't have anymore. When I see human families and how much they love each other, it tends to make me cry. I really think that's what Ultra Space is missing... Genuine close bonds, you know...? That's why I'm researching bonds, especially the ones from pokemon battling. I think that's a way to fix the Blinding One..."

"The rest of Ultra Space outside of the city is pretty interesting, although pretty bleak. It's only Ultra Beasts who live out there, but we've discovered plenty of ruins of civilizations that used to exist there. Sometimes humans will accidently fall into the wilderness of Ultra Beasts. Most humans are expected to die, survival is really difficult out there. It seems the energy of Ultra Space effects humans specially, though. It affects their aging and their hunger and all kinds of stuff, but we haven't studied why or how exactly yet. I think that's Rhi's subject if you wanted to ask him about it."

"Any place that still has actual light in Ultra Space is very small, and it's swarmed with territorial Ultra Beasts, so we've given up on sampling other living things from those areas like plants. We don't really have many people focusing on studying plants in the first place since most plants in Ultra Space went extinct a long time ago. It's really sad, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Ultra Space is depressing, isn't it? But it's gotta get better..."