#she was basically a mangled mess at the time so she struggled a lot to survive by herself on top of the usual problems that come with being

[arolesbianism]

I've been thinking abt Kim more and now I am very much in a place where I need a different name to call the actual nugget because I think of Kim and I think of a man I don't care abt I need my fucked up and twisted girlie who murdered him and stole his form

[mwolf0epsilon]

Several months into the Imperial Era, during a routine job for either Cid or Rex (you can pick which it's not really important), Clone Force 99 end up on a busy Trade HUB city planet similar to either Coruscant or Daiyo.

The streets are bustling with movement and all kinds of legal (and ilegal) activity, and it's somewhat easy to get lost in the crowd and blend in. The group splits up to get affairs done, with Wrecker and Hunter going to talk with an informant, while Tech goes off to shop for parts for the Marauder, and Echo and Omega go shop for other more basic supplies.

Omega ends up wandering off accidentally and gets lost, which almost immediately catches the attention of some less than agreeable folks. She gets cornered in an alleyway and, just when everything seems like it's going to end badly, she gets rescued by two cloaked strangers.

The two ask her if she's ok and if she needs help getting back from wherever it is she came from, which she's apprehensive about at first until she catches a glimpse of their hooded faces. Two clones, both with hairline scars where their chips used to be.

Echo tracks Omega down and is initially alarmed seeing the two strangers talking to her, before Omega notices him and says that she's ok and that the two are friends. That they don't have their chips in anymore. Naturally, Echo demands they identify themselves, which one of them does almost immediately. The one that hesitated when Omega called out Echo's name.

Lo and behold the hoods come off... And it's Fives and Tup under there. Looking just as shocked and bewildered about Echo being alive, as Echo is shocked that **they** are standing before him looking as right as rain.

The reunion is a hesitant frail yet exhilarating thing. With Echo and Fives both not trusting this too good to be true situation, and actively questioning each other on things only the Domino Twins would know, before it fully hits them. This is real. They're both there. They're both alive. They made it.

They hold on to each other for dear life while very openly crying, foreheads pressed together and just letting all of the emotions, the survivor's guilt, the denial, the hope and sibling love flow. Tup and Omega watch on quietly. Let them work it out.

There's going to be a lot of explaining to be done. And Hunter resolves that they call Rex once they can set up a more secure connection because this is great news. The trip back is a bonding experience and a lot of catching up on what they've all gotten up to since the Order went out. They decide to talk about the more extensive details of Fives and Tup's survival once they can talk to Rex.

The mission having gone off without a hitch boosts everyone's mood. And while Tech sets up a call with Rex with Tup's help, the rest of the batch goes off on a small errand to make a quick credit while they wait.

This errand ends... Rather poorly.

They catch the attention of some upstart street gang that ends up trying to rob them, and during a struggle one of them throws an explosive charge at Echo. Fives reacts almost immediately and grabs the charge to toss it away from the twin he'd thought he'd lost to another explosion. It goes off in his grip... Revealing circuity and hydrolics beneath...

Everyone stops.

It's like time itself has frozen as they all stare at the mangled machinery that used to be Fives's arm. Echo is mortified, but not more so than Fives himself who's staring at the mess like it's completely foreign to him. He looks at the others, sees their horror, the fear, the sudden distrust in their eyes, and he backs away. He doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know what this is.

When he looks at Echo specifically, he sees the absolute betrayal in his eyes.

"You're... You're not..." Not Fives, but Echo doesn't finish that inquiry. He doesn't need to. The others are reaching for their holsters, Omega looks at a loss for what to do.

"̴I̷'̸m̸.̸.̷.̴ ̴I̸ ̸a̵m̶ ̵I̷.̴.̵.̷ ̴I̸ ̵h̸a̶v̸e̶ ̶t̸o̵ ̷b̷e̶!̵ ̴I̴ ̴a̴m̵ ̷F̷i̸v̴e̵s̵!̸"̶ The cybernetic imposter calls out, but he doesn't sound like Fives. The blast must have broken something internal, because his voice is a glitchy mess, and that just distresses him further. "̸I̶'̸m̶ ̸r̶e̷a̶l̶.̷.̵.̷ ̶I̶.̶.̷.̵"̶

The machine steps back, clutching the ruined arm with tears in his frightened eyes.

"̸I̵ ̶h̸a̸v̵e̸ ̴t̸o̶ ̵b̴e̸.̵.̵.̷"̷

And then he runs away. Leaving them completely behind.

Echo is a mess. He really thought he had his brother back, but it was some kind of twisted joke. A sick trick of some kind. It's like losing Fives all over again, but there's no time to dwell on it. Tech is alone with Tup who is very likely also an imposter as well. They need to hurry back.

When they return to the Marauder they find Tup strapped to a table and connected to several machines. He looks absolutely distressed, much like Fives had, while Tech is both disturbed and highly fascinated by this entire situation.

While the others were off on their own, Tech had offered to give Tup a medical check-up (since they hadn't had the time to do it before, and it's better to be safe with one's health than to be sorry), only for both of them to get some rather odd readings when Tech did a preliminary scan.

Readings that indicated Tup was not a human, but rather a machine of some kind, which alarmed Tech and put him on the defensive. Tup immediately swears that this can't be possible, that he remembers training as a cadet on Kamino, remembers graduating and joining the 501st, remembers the shitshow that was Umbara, and so on and so forth... That there's no way he's a fake!

Hearing all this, Tech ponders for a while before agreeing to believe him (or at least believing that Tup really didn't know because the other is absolutely terrified). And, so long as they could run a few tests, he'll trust that Tup isn't up to anything insidious.

The tests reveal something very alarming indeed: That Tup is a very soffisticated kind of android designed to perfectly mimic people, and that who's AI was created using a brain scan.

It's also revealed that, upon trying to look back on his very last memory before he and Fives ended up on the run, Tup cannot remember what happened on Ringo Vida. Has no memory of what lead up to the real Tup's death. The scan must have been done right before Tup died, so he'd have nothing to go on other than Fives's word...

Realizing that this is a lot more complex than they immediately assumed (and seeing how freaked out Tup is at discovering he's "not real"), Echo runs off to go find Fives while everyone else is busy with the implications of perfect android imposters.

He's still shaken up about all this. But, seeing how genuinely afraid Tup is, he can't live with the idea of having any version of Fives (not even an AI copy) dealing with this on his own.

Echo knows what it's like to wake up altered in a now barely recognizable galaxy, after all...

He manages to track the damaged (wounded?) android to a very dingy looking public bathroom. Fives is curled up under a sink and, when Echo kneels down in front of him to see if he's ok, he's horrified to find that Fives has ripped off the left side of his face to expose the machinery beneath. He looks heartbroken and so terribly afraid.

"̴I̴'̸m̸ ̷r̴e̷a̷l̵.̷.̵.̷ ̸I̷.̵.̸.̴ ̴I̸'̴m̸ ̴r̵e̸a̵l̷ ̸I̷ ̶p̷r̷o̴m̶i̶s̶e̸.̷.̷.̷"̴ The left side of his face is a horrifying abomination made up of various servos and circuits, the right side a hauntingly lifelike mockery of life.

"̴E̷y̵'̴i̵k̷a̵ ̴I̷ ̶p̷r̵o̷m̴i̸s̵e̸ ̸i̷t̴'̸s̵ ̶m̷e̶.̷.̷.̴ ̷I̶.̸.̸.̷ ̵I̸'̸m̴ ̴F̴i̵v̴e̸s̸!̴ ̷I̵.̴.̶.̷ ̸I̸.̵.̴.̴ ̸I̷'̴m̵ ̸s̴c̵a̸r̷e̵d̸.̷.̶.̴"̵

And Echo believes him.

Because, even if this is a copy, a cheap knockoff, those are still his brother's memories in there. And he's terrified and hurting. He's only ever heard Fives so terribly afraid once, and it still haunts his nightmares to this day.

Echo scoops up his twin into his arms and just holds him while Fives cries his heart out. They'll figure this out. Somehow.

[thefools-journey]

So. Some of you may be wondering why we haven’t written a whole ton about the secondaries or what have you. Here’s the reason: we were waiting for them to end before we really dug into the problems we were noticing. We felt that it was only fair to wait for the routes to finish so that we had an understanding of the writers’ vision. Who knew, we thought, maybe they would see the problems themselves and course correct, maybe they are building to something we can’t quite see yet and these issues will have actual payoff, maybe-

In light of Muriel and Lucio’s endings, and the general mess that has dominated Portia’s route for a year plus now, we are breaking our silence. We are actually going to talk about this shit show.

The fandom at large has talked about a bunch of issues with the secondaries but for me, the cardinal sin, the thing that really all the issues lead back to, is this: the writers lost sight of the tarot themes which so strongly defined and held together the primary routes. Let me explain.

The primary routes each center around three thematic cores:

The Love Interest’s Major Arcana and its Reversed/Upright meanings

The MC’s Fool’s Journey, both how it can go right and how it can go wrong

A question about the MC’s identity and their relationship to said identity

Asra’s route asks: Who was the MC? How does the MC navigate a past they cannot and will not remember? What do they owe a past they cannot remember? How do they handle the revelations of what Asra, Nadia, Julian, etc did? How do you right the past? Can you?

Nadia’s route asks: Who is the MC? The MC has no past. Are they the Fool only? Are they actually the same person they were? How can they tell? Who are they, really? Are they an imposter? No one can answer these questions for them.

Julian’s route asks: Who will the MC become? How does the MC see their future? Is there anything worth fighting for for that future? What will become of them and their loved ones? 

Now, if you notice, these themes are expertly woven throughout the primaries. Asra’s past dominates his route, Nadia is also missing memories and trying to construct her identity both with her family and with Vesuvia, and Julian’s fear of the future drives his flailing for control. Asra has to learn to take a broader view of his actions to get his Upright Ending, Nadia has to learn to trust herself and those around her for hers, and Julian has to learn how to let go for his. These lessons are the issues their cards stand for. The primaries are so dang elegant and delicate in their handlings of theme it is honestly awe-inspiring.

Thematically, the secondary routes have completely lost their hearts. First of all, the MC does not have strong, core questions which need to be answered. They just don’t. I suppose the writers did not want to retread old territory (which is weird considering how tightly bound the primaries are; it really tricks you into thinking you’re living the same events but from different angles depending on your route) but they did not replace the old with anything new. Muriel’s route is, on the surface, about discovering and owning his past, the good and the bad. Why not tie MC’s self-discovery to that story? Or they could have taken the angle that Muriel’s route is about convincing him to be present and active in the world while MC builds an identity for themself outside of Asra, the shop, and the memories they cannot retrieve. Why not tie the investigation themes running through Portia’s early route back to MC and their past? Portia has the unique angle of being as in the dark as MC about all of this, why not discover the past together? And for goodness’ sake, Lucio has no future when his route begins, why not tie that to his need for growth, responsibility, and MC’s own future between the Fool, the Devil, or something mortal and in between?

Secondly, the routes lost their tarot backbone. We have a primer on how to get specific endings for each LI and it still holds, but the writers did not follow through on the thematic coherence of each secondary. The Hermit is looking for something, be it perspective, insight, a solution to a problem, whatever. The key here is that the Hermit must find or learn what they are searching for, this thing must change their understanding of the world, and finally, they must bring this lesson back to the world from which they retreated. Can someone please enlighten me as what exactly Muriel learns then teaches the world around him? Nothing Muriel learns from Morga, MC, or even the Hermit ties back into anything. The Devil warns that you are out of control and exerting a lot of manipulative, destructive behavior on the world around you. It asks you to take responsibility for yourself and your actions. So can someone tell me why Lucio’s route actively avoids any interaction or reflection on two of Lucio’s biggest victims: Muriel and Julian? Why does the route only try to make amends with the “easier” of his victims in the cast? The Star is first and foremost the card of clarity, the light at the end of the tunnel. Perseverance, if you will. Yet Portia’s route has been the muddiest of the trio; the writers drop the investigation aspect of her route in favor just handing her and MC information they could have easily found and muddying the waters with Tasya (she blows up the palace but it’s all okay bc she has a secret daughter Julian never thought to bring up or mention) and the complete removal of the Devil as antagonist. 

So that leaves just the Fool’s Journey trying to hold this stool up with only one leg. And well...it doesn’t go well. At best, the secondary route books pay the barest surface level homage to the themes of the individual cards. At worst, they ignore the cards completely. Muriel's Moon book has nothing to do with illusions or delusions or lies or even an Alice in the Looking Glass upside down world. Portia's back half is a complete and utter mess, starting with her Temperance book being so badly mangled that Muriel's aftermath book does it better. Lucio's route too bungles the Tower and the Star. There just isn't enough here to carry the routes alone.

Add to the core loss the loss of intertextuality. The primary routes are very good, even great but they too do have their moments and mistakes. What helps strengthen them when the cores stumble is how the trio is woven together. Things you learn in Asra's route can inform the way you play Nadia's, for example. Julian's route informs what is going on in Asra's route and slots some missing puzzle pieces together. Nadia's route tells you of the power struggles she is facing and informs the other two routes' handling of Julian and his trial. On and on, the three routes support each other because they are built out of the same basic plot beats, just tackled in very different ways. Now, the writers are allowed to try and write whatever they want. They apparently wanted to be more experimental and less tied down to an overarching plot with the three secondaries. Okay, fine, they are allowed to do that. The problem is that they sacrificed one of the key strengths of the primary trio and didn't replace said strength with anything else. They also, on some level, harmed the very premise of the game, which is that only the player's choices and route selected change the overall plot. Instead of feeling like legitimate possibilities or offshoots of the same timeline/plot, the secondaries feel almost like Arcana AUs. The secondaries throw out all relations to the primaries and each other as quickly as possible and for what? 

It is probably the height of arrogance to suggest fixes for works whose behind the scenes I do not know. At the same time, some small, obvious changes could have salvaged Muriel and maybe Lucio's endings (rip Portia). Instead of having the Hermit appear as a disappointing cameo, why not have him say something cryptic to Muriel, then have MC start trying to seal the Devil. Then let Muriel use his forget me mark to cloak MC and hide them from the Devil's attacks. Protecting MC by hiding them from Lucio, keeping him focused on Muriel, seems to me a simple third solution between Muriel's desire to run and his desire to never fight again. It lets him stand up to Lucio and let him have it while holding onto who Muriel has become. The Reversed End would have MC try to draw Lucio's attention at some point, disrupting the sealing, and eventually leading to Muriel killing the Devil. With Lucio's Upright End, I just have to ask: why doesn't MC fully claim the power of the Fool instead of the Devil? We don't need the other Arcana involved in this fight; we have three routes that demonstrate that. Just have MC pull Scout into the conflict, then have Lucio tell MC he believes in them, then add his power to the mix. You got yourself a full Fool who leaves Scout guarding the realm until they and Lucio's mortal bodies fail and they return to the realm to be together forever. Boom, you're done, you can even add some ambiguous lines so that players can decide how happy their MC is with this arrangement, send me the check.

Here is the bottom line. Our group is full of aroace, and several combinations therein, individuals. We are the last group who should have gotten into a dating sim of all things. But the Arcana did something with the primaries that was special; they wrote a compelling plot with dazzling lore, complex characters, and strong themes wrapped up in a dating sim bow. The writers know better and we know they know better. I do not know what happened with the secondaries, especially around books 10-11, which is where minor issues slowly start spiraling into major ones, but it is clear that Nix Hydra needed some more planning before they released these routes. Hopefully they will learn.

TL;DR: Nix Hydra fired their tarot consultants about eighteen months ago and it has wrecked their secondary routes until they were just embarrassments. They never intended for the secondary routes to even exist and once they had to make them, they scrambled and threw out everything that made the primaries work.

- Mod Telos

[tradgicworks]

Heartfelt 1 - 1 Heart of the Matter

Anna wakes up in a hidden facility and is told the dark secrets of what she had just witnessed.

Anna’s vision slowly stained back to life. She found herself submerged in a mountain of violet flesh, unable to move. The sound of a distant roar droned in her ears. In the far distance she could see Gwyneth and Eva illuminated by a pale purple light, their backs turned towards her. Anna called out to them, but she had no voice. The roar grew louder. The violet flesh began to wriggle as if it was laughing at her. A massive Sorrow charged at them. It dragged itself across the floor, its bulky body speeding out of control. Black smoke billowed out of its gaping maw. The roar grew to ear shattering volumes. Anna screamed in vain as the Sorrow crashed against Gwyneth and Eva, swallowing them whole. Tears ran down Anna's face in silent anguish.

"Take a deep breath," A gentle voice called out to her. “You know this is just a nightmare.”

Anna looked up to see the thin silhouette of man. His body shone a calm sky blue that completely hid all of his features. He looked frail but, for some reason, familiar.

"It's time to wake up, your friend is waiting for you," The man said.

Anna’s breath steadied. She closed her eyes. The darkness that surrounded her hummed to a warm sunlight. . . .

Anna sat up quickly as she broke out of her nightmare. She found herself in a small hospital room. Her tattered uniform had been replaced with a simple medical gown. The bed she laid on took the majority of the room. Sunlight peered through a window beside her. An IV bag hung from a tall rack and connected into her arm. A mirror hung on the far corner of the room.

"Anna!" Gwyneth greeted her with a tight hug.

She was sitting beside her on a small chair. Dark circles clung to the bottom of her eyes. She wore a Warden’s uniform that was slightly too big.

"Gwyneth! Are you okay?" Anna said as she returned the hug.

"I’m okay," Gwyneth choked up slightly. “What about you? You got hurt the most by that Sorrow.”

"I think I’m okay, most of my injuries look like they are healed..." Anna struggled to say as Gwyneth squeezed her hard. “Gwyneth, you’re crushing me.”

Gwyneth gasped before quickly letting go of Anna. “I’m sorry, let me go get a nurse!”

“Wait,” Anna grabbed her arm before she got up. “What about Eva?”

Gwyneth’s face shifted to a mix of hatred and disinterest. “She’s fine.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Anna sat up straight. “What happened? I thought you two escaped.”

Gwyneth sat back down, her face softening. “We did, kind of. We got to the surface and there were Wardens already there waiting for us. I saw Coraline go in, apparently after you. I don’t really remember what happened next. When I woke up, I was already here.”

"Where is ‘here’ exactly..?” Anna asked.

"Uh, okay," Gwyneth sat back in her chair and got comfortable. “There is a lot I have to explain to you. First off, you were knocked unconscious for a whole week.”

Anna’s eyes widened. “A-A whole week?”

“Yeah, and well, a lot happened in that time. I guess I'll answer your question first. We’re currently in the Capital City’s Central Station for Sorrow Affairs, or just Central Station. It’s, uh, literally under the academy.” Gwyneth explained, gauging Anna’s face on whether or not she believed her.

“So, that abandoned bunker we were lost in…”Anna said as she tried to piece her situation together.

"...was once part of the Central Station. It had to be abandoned. When it was, the Sorrow came in and formed its nest there," Gwyneth finished for Anna.

"The 'Sorrow'?" Anna frowned in confusion.

"That is what that 'creature' we found down there is called," Gwyneth gave a complicated expression. "They can’t be hurt by anything except energy, like fire. Even then they will keep regenerating as long as their core- uh, that black orb you saw- is not destroyed."

"Can they all morph their body?" Anna straightened herself.

"No, each Sorrow has a unique ability. The one we encountered was able to shapeshift by molding it's body using it's tendrils," Gwyneth explained.

"Then why didn't it shapeshift into a human to crawl through the air ducts? It literally mangled itself trying to force its way through," Anna's voice shuddered slightly as she remembered it's centaur form.

"They are literally animals, Anna. The Sorrows hunt, make nests, and protect their territory based on their predatory instincts. It shapeshifted to deceive us because that is the way that Sorrow hunted, once we ran away it had no reason to keep up its disguise. I know it sounds cruel, but you can’t think of them as people," Gwyneth’s face softened.

"Oh," Anna murmured as she remembered the Sorrow pleading for help. "How do you know all of this?"

"I’ve been working with Beatriz for a few days now as part of her Surveillance Branch," Gwyneth said with a bit of pride.

"Beatriz?" Anna asked.

"She’s the chief of the East Station, she’d probably want to meet you," Gwyneth stood up and grabbed a radio from her pant’s waist. “Ms. Beatriz, Anna has woken up.”

“That is splendid news, Gwyneth. Call a nurse to prepare for her dismissal and bring her to the observation deck whenever you can.” Beatriz’s voice replied, she had a slight French accent.

"Will do," Gwyneth responded before turning to Anna. “I’ll get a nurse, there’s a lot more stuff that you need to know about but I honestly think it would be better for you to see it first hand.”

“Okay,” Anna said as Gwyneth walked out of the door.

Anna glanced at her surroundings unsure of what to do. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. The scar glanced back at her. She covered it with her bangs as the nurse came in with a change of clothes.

. . .

Anna walked out of her hospital room wearing an identical uniform to Gwyneth that fit her surprisingly well. She looked over at Gwyneth who stood beside the receptionist desk, a bouquet of daisies in her hands.

“Anna, over here,” Gwyneth gestured. “How are the clothes?”

“Great actually, I like the boots.”

“That’s good, um, I’m going to make a little detour before I take you to the observation deck. Is that cool?” Gwyneth asked with slight meekness.

“Sure, we’re in no rush right?” Anna replied.

“Yeah, okay, uh- The detour’s a bit morbid,” Gwyneth began walking and Anna followed after her.

They walked for a while before eventually reaching a set of double doors labeled “Intensive Care Unit”. Anna tensed slightly as she read the name. Gwyneth opened the door and walked up to room 309 and opened it. Sophie laid neatly on a bed. Medical equipment surrounded her, monitoring her condition constantly. She wore an oxygen mask and was connected to an IV. Dark purple veins stained her body. They wriggled ever so slightly with each breath that she took. Gwyneth put the bouquet in a small vase on a nightstand that stood besides Sophie.

“This is what happens to the victims of the Sorrow…” Gwyneth took Sophie’s hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “They enter a coma. None of the doctors know why or even how to wake them up.”

Gwyneth looked at Sophie for a few moments before turning towards Anna. “Let’s get going.” She said quietly.

“Sure,” Anna stared at Sophie’s unconscious body before following Gwyneth.

Gwyneth led her to an elevator and the two stepped inside before the elevator sped upwards. When the doors opened, they found themselves in a large control room. Rows and rows of Wardens sitting behind highly advanced computers took the majority of the space. A small set of stairs led up to a deck where a massive monitor made the entirety of the wall. A woman stood in front of it, her scarf fluttering slightly from the pouring air coming from the vents. Anna stood in awe at how advanced the set up was. Gwyneth made her way to the woman.

“Ms. Beatriz, I brought Anna like you asked,” Gwyneth said with slight stiffness.

“Thank you, Gwyneth,” Beatriz gave a warm smile. “Did you enjoy your lunch break?”

“I went to visit Anna first, I haven’t eaten,” Gwyneth sheepishly admitted.

“Oh, that is not good,” Beatriz pulled out a small pocket watch from her pocket and read the time. “There is still a little more time before we begin our mission. Go to the mess hall and fetch yourself some breakfast, bring a serving for Anna too.”

“T-Thank you, Ms. Beatriz,” Gwyneth blurted before heading towards the mess hall. “Go on, she’s really nice.”

Anna walked up the steps.

“Ah, you must be Anna,” Beatriz said with a hint of excitement. “How are you this fine morning?”

“I’m okay, mostly. I’m still trying to grasp the situation I’m in,” Anna replied.

“Of course, it is a lot of information for one to take in at a time. Unfortunately, your burden will not lessen anytime soon.” Beatriz’s smile weakened.

“What do you mean?” Anna asked with a bit of anxiety.

Beatriz took a deep breath. “I assume Gwyneth has told you about the Sorrows, correct?”

“Yeah, they’re basically dangerous giant mutant animals, right?” Anna bluntly stated.

“Something like that,” Beatriz turned towards the monitor. “Their qualities make them incredibly dangerous, even one Sorrow is capable of destroying an entire city if left unregulated.”

“Then how come people don’t know about them?” Anna asked.

“That is largely part to our efforts, Anna. The Wardens do not just act as security staff for your school. They are also in charge of monitoring the Sorrow and keeping them a secret from society. We do this as the Sorrow Affairs Department- an official branch of the government. We do this to prevent a country wide scare. When our efforts fail, we send the Hearts.”

“Hearts?” Anna asked.

“Think of them as the S.A.D’s soldiers,” Beatriz explained as the monitor blinked to life.

The image of Eva standing in front of a barn shone into Anna’s eyes.

“Eva?” Anna muttered.

“Anna!” Gwyneth yelped in a rushed tone from behind her, she held a warm cinnamon bun by a napkin. “Here, I have to get to work.”

Gwyneth quickly handed her the bun and made her way to one of the empty computers. She booted it back up and logged in.

“E-Enabling audio interface,” Gwyneth cleared her voice. “Stand clear.”

A sharp static sound rang out for a single second before breaking into the sound of crickets chirping in overgrown grass.

“Eva, do you copy?” Beatriz tapped her ear.

“Yeah, I can hear you,” Eva grunted.

“Excellent, you have permission to proceed with the raid,” Beatriz tapped her ear again.

“Finally,” Eva rolled her shoulders. “Waiting for so long was starting to piss me off.”

Eva huffed before following suit.

“Switching to bodycam footage,” One of the Warden’s said as the monitor flicked to an image of the inside of the barn.

The wood that made up the barn was breaking apart and waterlogged. Clumps of wet and filthy hay splattered all over the walls. The bare dirt floor was overgrown with waist high grass. The gnawed remains of deer bones laid scattered throughout the grass. A rickety ladder hugged the far corner of the barn. Eva slowly trudged through the grass and towards the ladder. She climbed up the ladder carefully. The attic was a clutter of tree branches and torn sheet metal. She pulled herself onto the rotting wood floor. She surveyed the attic only to find nothing of value.

“Attic’s clear, I’m gonna climb onto the roof-” Eva said before suddenly screaming in pain.

The screech of something huge howled through the speakers as the bodycam footage turned to black.

“Eva!” Anna exclaimed.

“Switching to drone footage,” A different Warden said.

The image of Eva pinned down by a harpy like Sorrow blipped onto the screen. Its boney violet frame gave it the impression of a mummified corpse. Its legs were slender with long talons adorning the bottom. Two gigantic wings took the place of its arms, its pitch-black feathers glowed a bright purple at the tips. Its neck was elongated and curved downward. Rows of jagged teeth took the place of its mouth. The rest of its face was a cancerous growth of spiny feathers that consumed all of its facial features. The Harpy screeched and flapped its wings. It lifted Eva a few feet up before slamming her back onto the ground.

“The Sorrow is going to kill her!” Anna exclaimed to Beatriz.

“She won’t die,” Coraline’s voice called out from behind them. “Hearts aren’t exactly delicate, miss Anna.”

Coraline gestured towards Beatriz who took out her earpiece and handed it to her. Coraline put it on and cleared her throat with a curt cough.

“Eva, you were tasked with eliminating the Sorrow. Do not embarrass me,” Coraline stated coldly.

“Easy for you to say,” Eva grit her teeth and grabbed its talons. “This thing ain’t exactly making it easy.”

“Just get it done,” Coraline glared.

“Sure,” Eva clenched her grip until she heard the Harpy’s talons snap. “Whatever you say, chief.”

The Harpy shrieked in pain before being thrown off of Eva. Its talons quickly snapped back into place, completely healed. Eva stood back up. The back of her uniform was torn slightly but there were no signs of injuries. She put a hand over the center of her chest. A heart-shaped light glowed a bright orange before disappearing. Eva swiped her hand away from her. A streak of orange light traced her fingers and formed a handle. She gripped the handle tightly with both hands. An axe head formed at the end of it. Eva steeled herself as the axe solidified, the axe head still glowing an ethereal orange.

Anna stared in awe.

“Sorrow’s cannot be hurt by anything except for energy, they are faster, stronger and bigger than us. So the question remains, how the hell do we even stand a chance against them?” Coraline looked at Anna in the eyes. “That’s what makes Hearts so special. We are women blessed with superhuman strength and speed...”

Eva charged forward. The Harpy swung its wings at Eva. She narrowly dodged them, snippets of her bangs getting cut by the razor sharp tips. She swung her axe upwards. It wedged itself in between the Harpy’s chest.

“...We can make weapons made of pure energy through sheer will alone. We can fight against the Sorrow, we can kill the Sorrow…” Coraline continued.

The Harpy screeched at Eva’s face only to be met with a swift punch that nearly broke all of its teeth. The force of the blow was enough to break the Harpy free. It began to flee in a mad panic. Eva shifted her weight and pulled her axe back.

“...We, the Hearts, stand as humanity’s sole defense against the hordes of vile men turned beasts and we do it all without them even knowing. Those ungrateful wretches.” Coraline’s glare hardened, Beatriz frowned in annoyance.

Eva threw her axe at the Harpy. It cleaved deep into the flesh between its collarbones. The Harpy crashed back onto the earth. Eva walked up and held the Sorrow down with her boots. She pulled out the axe, exposing the core, and raised it high above her head. She swung down with brutal force. The sound of glass shattering echoed through the speakers. The Harpy’s body disintegrated into a thick black smog, leaving only the cut core behind.

“Sorrow exterminated,” Eva radioed as she crushed the remains of the core with her boot.

“Why are you telling me this?” Anna asked suddenly.

“Because whether you like it or not, you’re a liability now. You know of the secret world of Hearts and Sorrow, a secret that we cannot afford for you to spread. As such you have two options,” Coraline raised a finger. “You return to your life and pretend that you know nothing. Of course you’d be under strict supervision. Everywhere you go, everything you do, and everyone you will ever interact with will be monitored by us-”

“Or, you can work for us,” Beatriz butt into the conversation. “Either as a Warden or a Heart. You can help us protect the innocent and stop the Sorrow from doing more harm.”

“...either way my way of life now depends on the S.A.D,” Anna said quietly.

Coraline scoffed. “You’re smart.”

Anna looked at Eva and then at Gwyneth. She thought to herself for a few moments before taking a deep breath.

“I want to be a Heart,” Anna turned towards Coraline and Beatriz with a determined stare.

Coraline and Beatriz both reacted with slight surprise.

“You sure about that, miss Anna?” Coraline stepped closer. “Becoming a Heart isn’t easy, you have to be in top physical, mental, and emotional condition. Getting there is akin to a death march.”

“I’m sure, I don’t want what happened to Sophie to happen to anyone else.” Anna’s gaze remained unbroken.

“Oh… I hope for your sake your confidence isn’t just for show, because this is going to be hell on Earth for you,” Coraline gave a sadistic smirk as Beatriz frowned.

[ghost-in-the-hella]

I hope it's cool for me to drop another one, you just write them so well. Z: “Zip me up?” PriceMarsh

Absolutely! Prepare for a near-lethal dose of pricemarsh fluff.

CW for referenced homophobia and implied internalized homophobia. Also references to Rachel’s death because I can’t not at least mention that.

---

There’s no reason for Chloe to feel so nervous. It’s only prom. She’s never been one of those girls who considers their high school prom to be a pinnacle of her life to be surpassed only by her eventual and inevitable wedding day. Before she and Kate started dating, Chloe would’ve laughed at the idea of even going to prom. She was way too cool for all that mainstream, cliche high school shit even before she dropped out.

But here she is, sitting in the cab of her truck in the parking lot for the girls’ dorms, sweating through her tuxedo shirt as she tries to work up the nerve to go meet her prom date. Nervous. She and Kate have been official for a few good months now, but they’ve never done anything this, well, official. Chloe bought a corsage and everything. She’s wearing her dad’s old powder blue tuxedo from his prom, taken off mothballs for the occasion (lucky for her he was a total beanpole when he was in high school; Joyce barely had to take it in at all). It’s fucking go time.

She flicks her lighter a few times to steady her nerves. God, she wants a cigarette. But she knows Kate hates the smell even though she tries not to complain, and she wants tonight to be perfect. Not for herself, of course - she’s still too much of a hardass punk to care about going to prom, much less about having it be some kind of magical experience - but for Kate. Because Kate cares about going to prom, and Kate deserves a perfect night. She deserves, at the very least, a prom date who doesn’t smell (and taste) like an ashtray. If Kate’s going to risk outing herself to her family with prom photos of her with an obvious lesbian on her arm, well, Chloe’s going to be the best goddamn arm candy she can be.

She tosses her lighter into the glove box and switches off her stereo, silencing the pump up mix she’d been playing to get psyched. She takes a deep breath to ground herself. Okay. Okay. Now it’s go time.

She grabs her tuxedo jacket off the passenger side of the bench seat and slings it on as she opens the door and hops out into the parking lot. She pulls out her phone and texts Kate. 

Me: im here

Me: u ready to wreck shit up w ur hella hot prom date?

Kate: Almost :)

Kate: I need your help with something. Can you come up?

Chloe suppresses the instinct to shout NO EMOJI and restricts herself to a polite: sure

She checks herself out one last time in her side mirror. Her hair’s freshly dyed and combed to a silky sheen, every strand perfectly in place. She’s got a tasteful amount of eyeliner on, like any good pirate, and it makes the blue of her eyes pop. The tux looks surprisingly good for something that’s been packed up in the attic for longer than she’s been alive, and it accents her hair and her eyes both. 

“Your father would be so happy for you. I wish he could’ve seen you.”

Chloe swallows down the sudden lump in her throat. She already sobbed her eyes out enough when Joyce was helping her get ready; she’s not picking up her prom date with raccoon eyes if she cries her eyeliner into a mess (again). She adjusts her lapels (what was it with the late seventies and ridiculous lapels?!) and her blue butterfly boutonniere and strides toward the dorms. 

There are several people standing outside, copping a last smoke before prom. Victoria Chase is one of them, flanked by two girls Chloe only vaguely recognizes. She’s pretty sure the bottle blonde smoked her out once at a Vortex party after she’d lost track of Rachel, but she’s not sure they ever exchanged names. Victoria flicks some ash off her cigarette as Chloe nears, but she pointedly avoids Chloe’s gaze rather than engaging her. So, still kind of an ice queen but maybe she’s learned a modicum of civility in the wake of the absolute clusterfuck that was last semester, between her best friend getting arrested along with her favorite teacher for a gross assortment of sex crimes. And murder.

Chloe’s stomach twists violently at the memory. Fuck, last fall was a shitshow. She’s pretty sure she wouldn’t have survived learning about Rachel’s murder (officially “death by misadventure” because the Prescotts have lawyers out their ass, but Chloe’s nobody’s fool) without Kate’s shoulder to cry on. Chloe still doesn’t believe in god, but if she did she’d say that Kate’s been an absolute godsend.

Chloe spares the girls by the door a quiet nod in greeting as she passes, and two out of three return it (fuck you very much, too, Unnamed Brunette Sidekick). She climbs the stairs to the second floor and hustles to Kate’s door. Her whiteboard is blank today, so Chloe takes a moment to draw a cartoon heart on it before she knocks.

“Chloe?”

“The one and only,” she replies.

“It’s open; can you let yourself in? Alice is being a handful.”

“Ooh, bunny shenanigans!” Chloe opens the door and slips into the room, closing the door swiftly behind her in case Alice is in danger of escaping. Alice’s cage is, indeed, empty, and the bunny is nowhere in sight. What Chloe can see, however, is about half of Kate poking out from beneath her bed. She shouldn’t laugh. She really shouldn’t. She does anyway. Kate’s legs just look so formal as they stick out from beneath her bed at awkward angles, politely wrapped in dark tights and the jumble of what is clearly a very pretty dress that deserves better than to be mangled and coated in dust before it can even get its moment in the spotlight.

Kate giggles, so at least she’s aware of the ridiculousness of the situation and probably isn’t mad at Chloe. “She just will not go back in her cage! Can you help?” Kate flails out a hand in Chloe’s general direction.

Chloe crouches next to the bed and takes Kate’s hand, helping to slide her out from under it. “Hey, bun-bun,” she calls softly to the bunny beneath Kate’s bed. “Your favorite person is here! Come say hello!”

Kate gasps in mock offense and swats Chloe’s arm. “Her second favorite person, thank you!”

Alice hops tentatively out from under the bed and wiggles her perfect little nose at Chloe. “Ah-ha!” Chloe reaches down and gently picks her up. “Got you, you little rascal. Were you making life difficult for your momma?” She gives Alice a nuzzle.

“She’s been such a naughty bunny tonight,” Kate sighs. “I can’t tell you how many times she tried to nibble my dress. And poor Alyssa! Alice got half her corsage before either of us figured out what was happening.”

“Aww, I missed Alyssa?”

“Sorry; she had to finish her own makeup. She did mine, too. Is it too much? I haven’t gotten a chance to check.”

Chloe looks over at Kate and nearly topples over onto her ass, bunny and all. Kate looks beautiful, but that’s nothing unusual; she always looks beautiful. The subtle makeup that Alyssa’s used on her sets off her natural beauty perfectly, understated but lovely as always. Her hair’s in a braid with loose tendrils framing her face, which is a style Chloe’s never seen on her before and definitely could get used to seeing. And her dress is… Well. It’s a lovely dress; Chloe’s no great authority on dresses - she hasn’t worn one willingly since she was about four - but she can tell that much. It’s definitely picked up some dust here and there from Kate’s adventure under her bed, but it’s still obviously a nice dress. Tasteful, of course, or at least it would be if it were zipped in the back.

Which it definitely isn’t. 

On anyone else, it would still be a modest look. But on Kate… This is by far the most of her that Chloe’s seen in months of dating. Kate’s very much a “take it slow” kind of person, and even though historically Chloe’s tended to be more of a “take it as soon and as often as I can get it” kind of person she respects Kate’s boundaries and is happy to let her girlfriend set the pace. So getting an eyeful of Kate’s naked collarbones, the round curve of an exposed shoulder, the suggestion of a bared back is basically the Kate Marsh equivalent of a nip slip.

“Um.”

“Oh, no, is it too much? I asked her not to do anything too excessive…”

“No, no, makeup’s fine. Great, even. You look… amazing.” Chloe wobbles onto her feet and holds out a hand to help Kate up. She presses a kiss into Alice’s soft fur and walks her over to her open cage. “Okay, cage time for bunnies. No more mischief tonight.” She tucks Alice inside and locks the cage door behind her.

“You’re so good with her,” Kate says, wrapping her arms around Chloe’s waist from behind. Normally she’d burrow her face into Chloe’s back, but she restrains herself and Chloe appreciates the effort to preserve the integrity of her suit even as she misses the contact. “This is the best behaved she’s been all night.”

“What can I say? You’re her mom; of course she’s going to rebel. Me, I’m more like the cool aunt.”

“Hmm. Cool step-mom, maybe.”

Chloe’s face warms with blush. She reaches down to place her hands over Kate’s and gives them an affectionate squeeze. “You, uh, you almost ready to go, babe?”

“Almost.” Kate pulls back and Chloe turns around to face her. It’s a struggle, but she keeps her eyes fixed on Kate’s face even as they long to trace the delicate, graceful line of her clavicles. Then Kate turns her back to Chloe, glancing back at her over her shoulder with a soft smile. “Zip me up?”

Chloe blinks stupidly for several seconds before she answers with a silent nod. Her mouth is too dry to speak human words. She has to close her eyes and collect herself for a moment when Kate turns her head away again, waiting patiently for her assistance. Her hands are actually shaking as she reaches for Kate, which is stupid. She’s literally stripped women before. She’s just helping one put more clothes on. Her hands shouldn’t be shaking over that.

She tenderly sweeps Kate’s braid aside with one hand, draping it forward over her shoulder to keep it clear of the zipper. Her fingertip barely skirts against the bared skin of Kate’s back, but she can feel her warmth like a brand. Chloe takes a deep breath in and blows it out slowly to steady herself as she reaches for Kate’s zipper pull. It’s only when she sees Kate squirm slightly that she realizes she’s released her breath directly against Kate’s exposed back. She freezes.

“It’s okay,” Kate says when she feels Chloe tense up. 

Chloe tries to force herself to relax. She attempts to ease the zipper up and it catches within the first inch. Tentatively, she reaches to brace one hand against Kate’s hip for leverage. The zipper slides free and Chloe delicately zips up the back of Kate’s dress. It traces the elegant line of her spine up toward the perfect points of her shoulder blades (Chloe notes two small birthmarks on Kate’s left just above her bra and suppresses the urge to lean down and kiss each in turn). 

Chloe reaches around to gently guide Kate’s braid back to its rightful place when she’s done. She leans in boldly to press a kiss to Kate’s (still bare) shoulder, pausing millimeters away to give Kate time to signal her yes or no. Kate gives a small but unambiguous nod and Chloe kisses her shoulder firmly. Kate reaches her other arm across to tangle fingers in Chloe’s hair, holding her there gently for a moment.

Kate gives a contented sigh when Chloe pulls back, slipping her fingers free from Chloe’s blue locks. “Sorry if I messed up your hair.”

“Worth it,” Chloe tells her with a grin. She steals a quick moment to check her hair in Kate’s mirror, prompting a knowing giggle from her girlfriend. The damage is minimal; definitely worth it. She tidies it with a few quick sweeps of her hands. 

Kate steps into the frame and slips an arm around Chloe’s waist. Chloe reciprocates with an arm around Kate’s shoulders. “What do you think?” Kate asks. “Prom Queens?”

Chloe wrinkles her nose. “I’ll be happy as long as they don’t dump pig’s blood on us. Anyway, I think someone would have to stuff the ballot box pretty hard for me to get elected anything at Blackwell after I dropped out.”

“A year after you left to pursue other options,” Kate corrects her. “Now that you’ve got your GED, I don’t think you technically count as a dropout.”

“Aww, but it’s my whole identity,” Chloe teases. She dips her head to drop a light kiss to the top of Kate’s head as Kate scowls playfully.

“Guess you’ll have to develop a new one, then.” She squeezes Chloe’s hip hard enough to shut her up. “You look really good in that tuxedo. I can’t wait to show you off.”

Chloe raises her eyebrows. “Yeah? Not still worried about what people are gonna say when they see our prom pictures?”

“I’m still concerned,” Kate says thoughtfully. “But I’m more excited. I never thought I’d get to have this.” She turns to look at Chloe, and there’s so much warmth in her eyes that Chloe feels a sudden threatening prickle of tears in her own. “My mother and aunt fed me so many… bitter thoughts about what being gay might mean. All the things I’d never get to do or have because I didn’t think that gay people were allowed them. I never thought I’d get to love someone so much. I never thought I’d get to be loved in return. I never thought I’d get to just be a normal, happy girl on prom night, getting ready with her prom date to go and dance with her friends and have fun like anybody else. But look at me. Look at us!” She turns back to the mirror, leaning into Chloe’s arm. “We’re doing this. I’m going to the prom with my girlfriend, and we look amazing together, and we’re going to pose for stupid pictures and dance until our feet hurt and celebrate with our friends, and at the end of the night you’re going to walk me back to my room and kiss me goodnight because I won’t have to worry about my lipstick anymore and it’s all going to be perfect. And even if it isn’t perfect, it’s going to be ours.”

Chloe feels like she’s going to shake apart she’s so close to crying, eyeliner be damned. “H-hey, Katie?”

“Mm?” Kate turns to look at her sweetly, and god how did Chloe get so lucky to end up with this incredible girl.

“How much do you really care about the lipstick thing? Because I really want to kiss you right now.”

A dimpled smile breaks out across Kate’s face and Kate goes up on tiptoes, touching Chloe’s face lightly as she tilts up her face to kiss her. Chloe does her best to kiss her back like a normal person and not like a drowning woman. “Not as much as I care about you,” Kate answers when they pull apart again. She wipes a stray tear from Chloe’s cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I’m so fucking okay. I might be the most okay I’ve ever been in my whole stupid life.” Chloe plants another kiss on Kate’s forehead. She’s about to start leading Kate to the door when she realizes she’s forgotten something important. She fumbles the corsage out of the inner pocket of her dad’s jacket and presents it to Kate. “Come on, let’s finish getting you suited up so we can light up the fucking dance floor and give all the haters the middle finger. The metaphorical middle finger,” she amends when Kate starts to open her mouth. “Not gonna get myself thrown out of your prom; don’t worry.”

Kate holds out her wrist and Chloe has to bend to slide the corsage into place. There’s a surreal moment when she’s holding Kate’s perfect hand in hers and gently guiding the corsage into place, practically down on one knee to get the proper angle, where she wonders if this is what it might feel like to propose. She can see it so clearly in her mind’s eye: getting down on one knee, probably wearing this same tuxedo because that way it’s like her dad would get to be there, still holding Kate’s hand, still looking up into her beautiful and shining eyes as she gazes down at her with more love than any human heart could hold, Gramma Price’s ring resized to fit Kate’s finger…

Chloe wobbles, suddenly lightheaded, and Kate reaches out to steady her the way she always does. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Kate asks again, brow furrowing slightly with concern.

Chloe presses a reverent kiss to Kate’s knuckles and rises back to her feet. “I’m good,” she says, trying not to sound as dazed as she feels. “I’m great. I’m fucking amazing. You’re amazing. We’re amazing. Let’s go show all of Blackwell how fucking amazing we are.” 

Kate nods, grinning. “Yes, please.” She holds out her hand and Chloe takes it. Before they can make it all the way to the door, Chloe’s phone buzzes in her pocket. With an exaggerated sigh, she pauses to check it.

Mom: Chloe Elizabeth Price, don’t you dare forget to send me pictures!

Kate reads over her shoulder. “Maybe we should show your mom how amazing we are first?”

Chloe grumbles and rolls her eyes but obligingly opens up the photo ap on her phone. As annoying as Joyce can be (seriously, wtf with the Mom ESP?!), Chloe knows that Kate relishes this kind of maternal approval and that she’s never going to get it from her own mother. Joyce has her faults - fucking hell does she have her faults - but even Chloe has to admit that she’s been pretty awesome with Kate. She’s all but adopted her, honestly.

Chloe holds up her phone and lets Kate nestle under her arm. A perfect fit as always.

“Say ‘prom night!’” Kate says, grinning giddily.

“Prom night!” Chloe says without taking her eyes off of Kate, and she takes the picture.

[woodrokiro]

Hollowed (fic), Part Eight

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: They call her a miracle, but he looks at her as if she’s normal. It scares her. Fantasy/Futuristic/Zombie kinda?AU. Read Parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, and Seven. 

It’s the same dream, each and every goddamned time.

It starts out simply and true and horrid enough: the night he last saw her. His mother put him and the girls to bed, kissing each on the nose and wishing them sweet dreams. There is wetness on her cheek from when she briefly nuzzles her son--but it’s quick, and her expression is as peaceful as it usually is.

Was.

But in this dream, he gets out of bed.

His father isn’t in the living room, for whatever reason--but he’s too focused on his mother’s retreating form out of the house to really think about that detail. He starts to follow her--nine year old feet silent as they can while still trying to catch up. He thinks maybe she’s going outside to the safety cellar--even though there has been no Hollowed alarm, even though they haven’t had enough food to store there for ages--until he sees that she’s drifting toward the river.

His heart stops beating so quickly, because the river is a sacred place to Masaki. It’s where she taught her children how to swim, where they catch most of their food, where she has taught him that water is life. So long as they have this river, she says, they need to keep fighting for their lives, for their happiness.

But when she reaches the silt at the water’s edge, she suddenly stops.

“Ichigo,” she calls softly without turning around. Her voice is oddly distorted. “Get away from here.”

He is about to ask why, why would he ever leave her here when she knows the tide gets so high at night and then she turns.

Half of her beautiful face is mangled into a grimace, the other half covered by a Hollowed mask. Her body bubbles and blackens, and she reaches out a hand--gnarling into a claw--toward him.

“Run.”

--

Why he’s awake far earlier than the rest of the group is never questioned, and he’s glad. 

He doesn’t know how he’d answer, anyway.

--

He finds out soon enough that Rukia likes books. 

He guesses it’s not too surprising: he can’t imagine there’s much else for her to do, after all. 

But about a week after he starts, when he realizes there really isn’t much to do except sit around, ask what she’s doing (to which she may or may not answer), and watch dust filter through the screen, he makes do on his oath and brings a book. Well. His only book. It’s not gonna last him long, but hey. Something to do is something to do.

He’s about five pages in when he hears a creaking of the screen and looks up to find her hands gripping through the holes, eyes peering curiously down on him.

“What are you reading?”

Unnerved by her sudden attention, he slaps the book closed. “Look, I told you I’d bring something to read if things got as boring as they have been--”

“No, no. Of course.” She waves her hand impatiently. “I understand. What’s the name of your book?”

Slowly, he raises the tattered cover for her to see. “It’s… Hamlet. By William Shakespeare. Do you know it or…?”

She grins from ear to ear, clapping once in obvious pleasure. “Know it? Well, I know of it. They talk about it in a book Lord Yamamoto has of Shakespeare, but no one’s ever been able to find a copy for me. Is it true? That it’s his best, darkest work?”

“Well… I definitely don’t think darkest. Titus Andronicus is pretty dark, I hear--”

“Titus Andronicus is a travesty amongst his writing. Dark, yes: but no substance.” She sniffs with visible distaste, but Ichigo is intrigued with this conversation. Sure, he loves this book--it’s the one personally prized possession he was able to grab before fleeing his village--but he’s also fascinated with the sudden light in her eyes, the excitement in her voice at having someone to talk about an interest with.

The thought slips in uninvited that this glee suits her.

He shrugs, feeling a heat rise up his neck. “I wouldn’t know. I only have this one. I read All’s Well, once, but the copy was lost a long time ago. I had a book on his biography, too. Would love to find his other work, someday… But there’s more important things to ask for.”

Her fingernail scratches the screen in thought before she quickly glides over to a huge bookshelf in her section. Ichigo watches her: he’d be lying if he said he’s never noticed it before.

“What are you…?”

She trots back over, shoving a beautiful book through the larger exchange slot in the partition. “Here. I’ll trade you. I’ll take care of yours if you take care of mine.”

He eyes the cover. King Lear’s title is stitched in fine gold thread and he gulps. Although tempted, he shakes his head.

“Sorry. That thing’s in mint condition, but this copy is pretty important to me for sentimental value--”

“No, not literally trade, fool.” She rolls her eyes as if he’s the idiot being unclear. “Trade for reading. That thing isn’t deserving to be in my book collection, but it’ll do so I can finally read it. And when you finish this one, you can borrow another. I have near all of his work.”

He’s unsure, but finds himself putting his Hamlet copy in the slot too. “Okay… But I can’t really give you anything else, that’s the only one I have--”

“It doesn’t matter.” She’s grabbed his Hamlet, already finished with the conversation. “I like reading something a few times over anyway. And besides… It’s nice. I mean. To have someone to talk to about it with. I hope.” 

And with that, she walks her way up to her seat next to the window, curls her feet beneath her, and starts to read. 

He opens his own borrowed copy, starting a couple pages before he hears a sound.

Humming.

Strangely, he thinks, that suits her too.

--

“I just don’t get why she’s so… Isolated? But weirdly idolized? Like… She’s an imprisoned queen, or something.” Ichigo picks a piece of lint off his shirt. “Not to be dramatic. It’s just weird.”

It’s his day off, and he’s decided in his boredom to mosey over to Chad’s masonry unit and hang out. He and Chad don’t talk a lot (well, Chad doesn’t talk a lot), but he knows he can count on his friend for advice or venting whenever he needs.

Even when Chad’s pipsqueak boss glares at him from across the room the whole time he’s there.

“If you’re going to distract my apprentice,” the kid calls out, “you can at least be useful and help him in his work.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill sir.” Ichigo hops off his stool, stands next to Chad to half-assedly polish weapons while his friend pounds away at hot iron. “Jesus. How this tightwad place managed to hire a runt as the head of masonry is beyond me.”

Chad stops his work momentarily to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Hitsugaya’s a good boss. He’s taught me a lot in a short time, and besides. He lets you in here while I’m working. Can’t say the kitchens or Ishida’s units would allow for your company.”

Ichigo huffs, but doesn’t disagree. As little as Chad may speak, he has an annoying habit of being right. 

“Yeah, yeah. Still can’t imagine it feels great being bossed around by a twelve-year old, though…”

The two work in companionable silence for a bit, and Ichigo can’t help but think that they really did match Chad to the best job for him. He’s glad someone in his group has found a job that makes sense, at least.

As if reading Ichigo’s thoughts, Chad clears his throat. “Have you talked to Karin recently?”

“Nah. I haven’t really had a chance to. Why?”

“Nothing new, but Yuzu mentioned to me she’s struggling.” Chad keeps his eyes down on his work, but Ichigo can read a tinge of worry. “Been messing up a lot in the kitchens, she says. Inoue makes some… Strange choices in her cooking, we know--but at least she enjoys the work, and is quick to correct her mistakes. She’s well liked there. But Karin…” He stops, not needing to say more.

“Karin’s got a temper.” Ichigo sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. Okay. I’ll--I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”

“I’m sure she’s doing her best, but…”

“No, I know. But it’s not fair to her. I didn’t drag you all here so that any one of you could be miserable. ‘Specially my sisters.” 

“Why don’t you put her here?” Hitsugaya suddenly pops up beside them, carrying a couple of buckets of water to cool the iron. “Sado here says she’s almost as good with weapons as you are, and Old Man never gives me enough workers. We could use her help.”

Ichigo blinks. “Don’t you have some sort of… Weird sexist rule here? That women aren’t really allowed in the military?”

“You obviously haven’t met Captain Soifon… But I guess she is a special case. Anyway, I don’t have that rule.” Hitsugaya grunts while he pours the water. “If someone can do the work, who cares? It’s Old Man’s preference that things are the way they are. Comes from his religious background, having been a monk and all.” 

Ichigo’s jaw drops. He gives Chad a look before hounding on Hitsugaya. “A monk? Are you fucking--why are you so nonchalent about this? Aren’t they--weren’t they supposed to be peaceful ‘n stuff? How is he the HEAD of this entire military institution--”

“Don’t go screaming at me just because you don’t know the history of this place! It’s not my fault you didn’t educate yourself before you got here!” Hitsugaya crosses his arms and glares reproachfully up at him. “Whatever. I guess it’s not that long of a story. Basically, this place was a monastery when the Hollowed first appeared. A big important one. It’s debated whether Yamamoto was head monk and all, but then I guess it doesn’t matter. Anyway, what’s left of the military scampered up here, and Yamamoto took over as Head General. Some sort of ‘God’s Will,’ thing in his mind, probably. The rest is, as they say, history.”

“So Lord Yamamoto didn’t come from the military directly?” Chad vocalizes Ichigo’s next question, however scrambled it might be in his mind right now. 

“No. But to be honest… Look, Yamamoto’s done some disagreeable things. Frankly I don’t trust a lot of his decisions, but without him the entire human population could very well be dead right now.” Hitsugaya shrugs, picking up the emptied buckets. “Anyway Kurosaki, if you want to get your sister over here, I’ll take her. But I wouldn’t recommend asking Yamamoto directly. He’ll probably say no. I’d ask Lady Rukia to request the transfer.” 

Ichigo’s mind takes a minute to process the mention of the name and frowns in confusion. “Rukia? Why would she change his mind?”

“It may not seem like it, but she does have some input here. Not to him directly--through her brother. Whether you call it Byakuya’s guilt or affection, who cares? Anyway, it’s helped me get a friend from the valley into the service sector.” He twists his mouth thoughtfully. “She’s much kinder than the whispers say she is.”

Before he can ask the pipsqueak about that story, the kid turns and walks out the front door to (presumably) get more water.

Ichigo turns to Chad and his friend shrugs in response.

“It’s worth a shot,” he manages gruffly, and Ichigo can’t help but agree. 

--

Later that night, Ichigo approaches Ishida about it.

He doesn’t want to get Karin’s hopes up quite yet, just in case it doesn’t happen. Instead, he wants Uryuu’s input: Uryuu--who he definitely still thinks is an idiot--is at least a good sounding board for ideas, and he can count on him to be blunt.

Plus, it’s been a while since he talked to the guy. 

He’s been quiet ever since he started his part time shifts on the medical grounds two days ago, and hasn’t really been speaking to anybody except Orihime. He’s never been exactly chatty in the first place, but this…

When Ichigo tells him his idea about asking Rukia for the change, Ishida’s eyes flash strangely at her name. 

“I wouldn’t ask her during your shift tomorrow. I don’t know that she’d be… Up for it.” He says quickly before focusing back on mending a shirt. There’s a brief silence before he stops, sensing Ichigo’s stare.

“What?”

“I mean… That’s a weird thing to say. What do you mean she wouldn’t be ‘up for it?’ You meet her without telling me, or something?”

“No I didn’t meet her, and if I did I wouldn’t need to tell you--anyhow.” Ishida pinches his forehead and breathes in. Ichigo frowns.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Really. Just… You’ve mentioned she’s tired after your days and nights off, right? Maybe you won’t catch her… At her best. That’s all. Just give her a break tomorrow morning.” 

He gets up and is about to walk out of the room when Ichigo calls out to him.

“You said we gotta keep each other updated about this place. Is there anything you’re not telling me? I know we argue… But you can talk to me, Ishida.”

Uryuu doesn’t turn around to answer him for a minute. When he does, his face is solemnly thoughtful. “I know. But I’ll have to let you know when I’ve figured out what exactly is going on myself, Kurosaki.” 

He shuts the door, and wonders how many more secrets his group is keeping from him. 

[ncfan-1]

I keep thinking about Felix, and traditional masculinity in Faerghus (what’s implied of it), and the chivalric and knightly ideals, and the way these things are tangled together.

I think of Felix as a little boy who loved the same stories Ashe and Ingrid loves, Felix who looked up to his older brother and wanted to be a knight like him. I think of Felix who was described as a meek, emotional child who cried easily, and I still don’t think Faerghus is the Toxic Masculinity kingdom the way Rigel is, but the more I look at it, the more off it smells. I think of the parts of masculinity as a concept in Faerghus that have turned rancid, and I think of Felix, the boy who cried easily, and Felix, the teenager who seems now to struggle with expressing emotions freely, and I wonder.

I think of Glenn dying. I think of his death being so horrifically violent that all that was left of him to bring home was his armor, and I know that if whatever happened to him was so violent that they could only bring home the armor, his armor can’t possibly have been intact.

I think of Felix staring down at his brother’s armor, rent and twisted. The breastplate is badly dented with a ragged gash of broken steel running up the middle of it. There isn’t a square-inch of the armor, breastplate, vambraces, gauntlets, or greaves, that is completely clean of blood. His father looks at the ruined mess and says, tearful and proud, “He died like a true knight.” But all Felix can think of is what must have happened to Glenn for his armor to be in such a state, what must have happened to him for his armor to be all that’s left of him, what it must have felt like to die in such a manner, and all he can think is that being proud of such a death is absolutely grotesque.

I think of Felix feeling trapped. He’s not given the space he needs to mourn his brother properly, because his brother “died like a true knight.” He can see the ugly underbelly of the knightly and chivalric ideals, and now that he’s seen it, it’s all he can see, as he pries apart more inconsistencies with each passing day, as he finds new things praised as virtuous to be horrified by. He can’t see anything honorable about killing people like a rabid animal, just because the people you’re killing happen to be on the opposite side of the fight from you. He can’t see anything honorable about killing men and women and children just because it happens to be on the order of your liege lord. There is nothing glorious about battle, or blind obedience, or wanton slaughter.

What the ideals of chivalry and knighthood really seem to glorify, all they seem to glorify, is death—the death you suffer, or the death you mete out. And Felix knows. He remembers that mangled suit of armor, and he knows that there’s nothing glorious about death. Honor and glory, these things won’t bring back the dead. Glenn’s still dead, at the end of the day. At the end of the day, his death was still so terrible that his body couldn’t be recovered, and no amount of honor will erase the pain Glenn must have felt as he died. He’s seen it. He can’t see anything else.

He’s angry. He lashes out. He still cares about duty, and about protecting people—he’ll call out his father in a heartbeat for protecting his people because it’s what a dead man would have wanted of him, instead of protecting them because it’s his duty as their lord to do so. (He still values protecting people, even if he’s very chary about admitting it, because he can’t find a way to admit it that doesn’t make himself sound like a knight.) He’ll fight, and he’ll kill, but what he’ll never do is pretend that it’s honorable or glorious to do these things. He’s not going to play along with that narrative, never again.

There is a part of him, a small part, that wants to once again be a person who can actually find something worth valuing in the knightly ideal. His support chain with Ashe indicates as much. I said that post-time skip Dimitri reminds me of Sandor Clegane, but in this, Felix reminds me of Sandor much more strongly. A boy who loved stories, and knights, and wanted to be one, until something horrific happened that shattered his idealism and made it so that all he could see was the ugly underbelly of something society held to be so valuable.

He still carries one of Glenn’s knighting spurs around with him. It’s one of his lost items in the Academy Phase, so he carries it around with him everywhere he goes. To me, it’s not clear if this plays into his lingering desire to back to those days when he could associate knighthood with anything but death. The alternative is that he just carries the spur around with him because it was Glenn’s, and it’s symbolic of his attempts to move on from his brother’s death, and he can’t, because of what the spur itself represents, and what no one will ever let him forget.

Where all this gets Felix is him being Othered in the eyes of Faerghus society. When you’re a nobleman, concepts of chivalry, knighthood, and masculinity all seem to be tangled up with each other. The latter is never explicitly spelled out, but to me, it’s pretty clearly there by implication. If you don’t perform the ideals of chivalry and knighthood, you inevitably fail also to properly perform the norms of masculinity. In short, in the eyes of this culture, unless adhere to chivalric and knightly norms, you’re not a “real man.” Felix performs masculinity in ways that are likely considered atypical, or, frankly, abnormal, by the standards of the culture he grew up in—or that culture just regards what he does as not performing masculinity at all.

(It’s interesting to compare him with Ingrid, one of his childhood friends, who struggles with conceptions of traditional femininity as much as Felix seems to with conceptions of traditional masculinity, and like Felix, seems to have quit bothering trying to perform it years ago. Especially considering the way they clash in their B-support. It is, of what I’ve seen of Felix thus far, his lowest moment, when he tries to shut her up by drawing attention to the obligations she can’t escape as a noblewoman in their society.

“You’re not meant to be a knight. Go find a husband.”

He does it try to make her go away and leave him alone, by aiming at what he knows, as her childhood friend, to be her sorest of sore spots, and it was a really jarring moment to me, because I hadn’t seen Felix express similar attitudes in his other supports, and I haven’t seen him express them again since then. It doesn’t sit naturally on him at all. It’s still gross, but it’s a different kind of gross than if he genuinely bought into what “traditional gender roles” are supposed to be. But the real conflict between Felix and Ingrid here is their difference of opinions on the value of the knightly ideal.)

Basically, what I’m saying is that it’s fascinating to me that Three Houses took a character that in other works could easily have been, and probably would have been, hyper-masculine within his cultural context, and instead gave us someone who does not perform traditional masculinity in a typical manner within his cultural context. Or at all, really. And I could get into how this plays into potential queer-coding for Felix’s character, or how this plays into his strained relationship with his father, but that’s not what this post was about. And honestly, I wrote this because there’s a tendency among a lot of the fandom to just write Felix off as a jerk (when a lot of the stuff he says is 100% true, even if presented in an unpleasant manner), when it’s so much complicated than that.

[therearemorethanfivenights]

Chapter 10 is up!

Getting back to the writing.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11674818/chapters/37276622

Or alternatively, read it under the cut -

"Now that we're alone, you wanna do adult things? Like taxes? Or scrabble?" Vincent asked. The parts and service room was colder than anywhere else. The only warmth came from a small heater they'd borrowed from Dawn's room. "Oh, how romantic, I thought you'd never ask" Mangle replied, giggling. The two of them were already aware that this is all they'd be talking about for a long time and were aware of how irritating they were going to be too. 

"Ok, but for the next few weeks, I'm not calling you anything except 'girlfriend'. Oh, and sighing constantly. When they ask if I'm sad, boom, I'm just thinking of you. We are driving these people crazy." He snickered at the thought. This was mostly just revenge for all the teasing. And of course, Mike acted in the same way about Amy, pulling her around like a new puppy. Everyone could tell even Mike and Amy were sick of themselves, but they'd kept going for the sake of annoyance. 

"Likewise, 'girlfriend'." Mangle teased, "Maybe we could do something productive. Like... clean this place up? It's kind of a mess..." She looked at all the various computer chips, nuts, bolts and tools spread across the floor, coupled with the large mound of bottles of beer and whiskey she'd collected over time. "Could always turn the trash into useful stuff. If we cleaned the bottles we could use them as decorations. Put little lights in them and stuff." Vincent said picking the little bits and bobs off the floor.

Meanwhile, Mike and Amy had headed over to the office. "Think we can snoop on Jeremy's internet history?" Amy asked, a smile forming on her face. Mike ignored her. He'd always been fond of mystery stories and cop shows. Finally, he was living in one, and he had a lead to follow. "Amy... be honest with me here... do you think I'm crazy for thinking that... maybe William didn't take suicide?" He asked her. She looked at the screen, waiting for the pages to load. 

"I know it sounds stupid, but maybe he faked his death to get off the grid? The one who found him was Henry, and he announced it to the public. No service, nothing. Nobody except Henry's family could say whether he was alive or dead... what if he's the killer? Revenge?" He busily began taking mental notes of all the details of the event. Nobody, of course, could prove him wrong or right, but it was better to have a semi-crazy theory than nothing, he thought. Amy thought about this. 

"It's possible. But Will sounded like a nice enough guy. I mean look at what the internet says. 'Described by company founder Henry Ross as a quiet and humorous individual. He was known by few, yet was more loved than any other employee, and will surely be missed." Doesn't sound like a psychopath, does it?" She said, highlighting the text to read it better. Mike didn't want to dismiss his idea, however. "Sociopath Amy, sociopath. It's unlikely he'd been crazy before. And all the stuff he'd been through... no man can deal with that much pain. Either he snaps and does something awful, or maybe, maybe he does some amazing heroic shit like start a charity or something to make themselves feel better."

“So what, you think the dead guy is behind all this?” She peered at the articles on the screen. “Well… I did some digging and… Michael… he isn’t actually…” Mike was struggling to form a sentence. He almost didn’t believe it himself. “Michael Afton is alive.” He said finally. He turned to his girlfriend as slowly as he could, hoping she would believe him. She just kept reading. “Uh… anyway…” He trailed off. Amy frowned. “But doesn’t that just put more holes in your theory?” She leaned back on the desk. This seemed logical. If Michael was indeed alive, and so was his father, then surely killing would be unnecessary. The dad could just get his son back, problem solved, right? 

“You’d think. Except that the only evidence about him being still in the hospital, ergo the only evidence for him being alive was a small blog piece someone wrote. Apparently, this dude is super invested in the franchise, he’s kept tabs on this kid from day one.” Mike shuddered. “So he posted something months ago about the kid possibly not making it anymore. As in: just before the first murder. If William is responsible, maybe he read that post.”

“That’s not that dumb now that I think about it. Still pretty crazy how they kept this kid in a coma for ten years,” Amy gave him a small congratulatory pat on the shoulder. “See? Even if it’s not Will, we might at least have a motive for whoever it is. Who knows? They might be doing it involuntarily.” He said triumphantly. “Wait, what do you mean by that? Involuntarily?” Mike quickly searched up more articles. 

“See like you remember how your dad was in the army? How he had PTSD for the longest time so if he heard something that sounded like gunfire he’d just drop for cover? No matter what was going on? Same thing. Just way more messed up. If the murderer was exacting revenge on the kids responsible for ‘killing’ that kid, he’ll be basically hardwired to react in the same way if he hears anything is threatening his life again.”

“So this guy just goes out and murders six kids again? Seems a little extreme.” Amy said. She thought about the way her dad had acted during the Fourth of July. “So that’s why it’s gotta be the dad, right? Nobody else would like that kid enough to murder other kids in his honor.” Mike nodded. It all made sense in theory. Unfortunately, neither of them knew a thing about tracking down dead people.

“Did it hurt?” BB was still sat by Marie, waving his hand through her body. He just had to be sure ghosts could really walk through walls. Toy Bonnie yanked his hair. “Oh my god, B, you can’t just ask people that!” He folded his arms and scowled at him. In truth, he also wanted to know, since robots never experienced anything like death. “BB, please get your grabbers out of my chest, it’s weird. Yes. It hurt a lot.” Marie grabbed BB’s arm and removed it from her insides. “How’d they do it?” He continued, rubbing his head from where T-Bone had hurt him. Marie sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She said, closing her eyes.

It was cold and dark. She felt it, burning, stinging, biting… it hurt and it hurt bad. Her knees wobbled. In front of her lay her baby brother. Little Alex Sanderson. Poor Alex. She took a step towards him.

“You can’t.”

She felt her knees crumble below her. She coughed as her lungs filled with blood. Another step.

“You can’t”

She collapsed in front of him. He was beaten and bruised, dead. Hours had passed, he had gone stiff. She took his hand.

“You can’t”

She knew she was dying. She knew from the moment she felt the rush of pain. She lay Alex on his side. She cried. She coughed. She felt something slide from her back. A large kitchen knife. “You can’t”

She took Alex’s hand and clutched her doll tight. She lay by him and waited for the pain to die away. Footsteps. They got closer. Paws, white and pink. They screamed but she couldn’t hear them. They tried to wake her but she was dreaming. Then they collapsed. They were dragged away. She closed her eyes.

“Marie? Hey! Puppet! Hey, wake up!” She jolted awake. “Marie dear, are you ok?” It was Chica’s voice. “What… Chi… Wha?” She was confused. She was lying in the middle of the dining hall floor. “Whoa now, easy, get up slowly.” Freddy. He had his hand behind her head. She looked at herself. Long spindly limbs, suit, buttons, she was in her body again. “What… what did you see?” She asked the huddle. 

She didn’t know how she got there, in the room, in her body. “I don’t think that matters.” She looked up to see Vincent. “Are you ok? He knelt to be at eye-level with her. She tried to sit up. “Ugh… no.” She murmured. “Where are BB and T-Bone? I think I’d like a nice polite word with them.” She growled. From behind the crowd, she heard whimpers. “Please Marie, don’t blame them. You passed out; they just wanted you to be safe.” Chica said. She had armfuls of what appeared to be rescue supplies: Food, water, a blanket, some painkillers from Dawns room and a box of daily hay fever pills. “What’s all that for?” The puppet asked, pointing at the items. Chica placed them in her lap. “I… didn’t know what to grab…” She said, watching her supplies tumble onto the floor.

“I’m going back to my box now.” The group began to whisper. Vincent grabbed her arm. “No, you’re not.” He said, pushing her back down. Chica sighed and grabbed the boxes and bottles. Marie grumbled. She seemed much bigger, trying her best to intimidate her friends into releasing her. “Oh? And who are you to try and stop me?” She hissed. But Vincent’s grip remained firm. “Your best friend, that’s who. I get that you’re stressed but this isn’t going to help. Don’t bottle all this up, we’re your family.” He sat down. 

Everyone slowly followed suit. It was rare that Marie looked anyone in the eyes, and now all eyes were on her. She lay back down again and held Freddy’s arm as it followed her head down. “I… I just want to sleep.” She said. She stared at the lights above her before closing her eyes once more.

“So this is the big secret you’ve both been keeping?” Attention had turned to Vincent. He let go of Marie’s arm. “Yes. Her name is Marie-Rose, a victim of our killer and a witness to… the bite,” he said, “and I figured that maybe letting her be might jog her memory faster than stressing her out.” Dawn and Mangle looked at each other and nodded before heading to parts and service. BB and Toy Bonnie had already scurried off to pirate’s cove and were hiding with Foxy, who wanted nothing to do with it. Toy Freddy sat at a nearby table. “Why though? Why keep it from us? It’s your job, we wouldn’t have intruded if you’d just told us why she-“ “Because she’s scared.” Vincent cut him off. “She trusts me.” “And why is that? What makes you so special?” Toy Freddy continued. Vincent took a deep breath.

“Marie came in almost every weekend. She hated everything. She wrecked stuff, got into trouble, anything she could think of to tear her parent’s eyes away from her brother. Alex. They stopped caring about her the minute he was born. During weekends and holidays, she’d hang out by the puppet box, pouring her secrets into it. Her anger, her fear, everything. The kind of stuff you’d scream into the abyss. Eventually, her parents found out where she was going and forced her to take Alex. Her space was gone. So I went and talked to her. I let her vent. She shared the kinda troubles you’d never expect a girl her age to have. I think it was… maybe a year in? She sent me presents on my birthday, started treating Alex so much better and to top it off every other time we spoke she called me ‘dad’ by mistake.”

Finally, Vincent slumped forward, a weight off his shoulders. He looked exhausted. “Were you?” Toychi asked. “Like, that’s… actually so sweet.” She smiled. Vincent sometimes was like a father to everyone around him, but Marie was the most obvious. He looked at the puppet. “Yeah, I guess I was.” 

He thought about that. Marie’s father, from what he could understand, was always too busy trying to calm her mother down or looking after Alex. She never called him dad once. So despite his better judgment, and the mere 10 years between them, he’d accepted his fate. “Made me feel old though.” He added, chuckling. Marie smiled. “You’ve been awake the whole time, haven’t you?” He sighed. She grinned. “You’re grounded.”

[scarlette-joel-writing]

Erased Pt. 10

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: Torture. 

A/N: It is totally reasonable that you guys probably hate me. It has been forever since I updated Hopefully this makes up for it a little bit. 

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

~

I am in pain.

And not the “I went a little hard during training yesterday and I am really feeling it today” kind of pain.

No. This is the “I have been tied down to a metal slab for god knows how fucking long, and I have people constantly cutting me and burning me and pushing my bones to the point of breaking,” kind of pain. This is the “I kind of wish that they would just kill me already,” kind of pain. This is the “I can’t believe that my body hasn’t given out yet,” kind of pain. That is the type of life that I am living right now. This is the “I wish I could just tell them what they want they know so that the pain can end” kind of pain.

But I know that I cannot do that. I cannot tell them what they want because that would mean that I would have to tell him about Bucky and that will never happen. It will never happen. I would rather let myself die than to give them the information that is needed to make Bucky the crazy super soldier that they want him to be. It is a life that I don’t want him to live and I will do anything to protect him from that. Anything. Even if it means dying. I have to protect him.

The machine that he has attached to my head keeps the jolts of electricity bursting through me every few seconds though my body has gotten used to the little jolts of pain. They remind me that I can still feel things. That I haven’t become completely numb to his tactics. I don’t know what would happen if I did.

“Good Morning Miss!” he says as he enters the room and I can feel my entire body stiffen at the sound. This is the boss man. The man that came in and told me that he was going to torture me until I told him exactly what he wanted to know. We haven’t spoken much since I got here, but maybe that is because he keeps shoving knives into me. I don’t know, just maybe. “Are we going to talk today?” he says as he leans over me.

I have noticed in my time here, however long that has been, that this man is not from this time. He talks like he is from a different century and the way he holds himself is the same way that I see Bucky and Cap hold themselves: like they were pulled out of time and don’t know how to act in this new era.

I have also learned that Dr. Orlov is a Russian scientist/doctor and has extensive knowledge of the human body. Especially all of its weak points. I have gained that knowledge through person experience. He seems to enjoy cutting me open.

“Look at you. So beautiful,” he laughs and I feel him swipe a finger over my cheek, causing it to sting from the multiple bruises and cuts that rest of my face already. I want to spit at him. I know I look like shit. I haven’t showered in forever, there is dried blood all over me, and bruises are my new foundation color. Some are yellow, some are brown, and the newer ones are a dark dark purple that hurt like a bitch every time that he touches me. More like punches me.

“I am not going to tell you what you want to know, so fuck off,” this time I do spit at him but he quickly dodges it and laughs at me. A deep and booming laugh that sends a shiver up my spine. But not in the good way. Definitely not in the good way.

“Y’know, you are a lot more stubborn than the woman in my days,” he smiles at me and steps away from me and to the other side of the room where his table of toys is waiting. I try to pull at the restraints, once again, and once again there is no way that I am going to escape from them. They are stainless steel and bolted to the concrete floor.

My mind is strong. My body is not.

“I don’t care about your stupid monologue,” I sneer back at him and I watch a he picks up a knife that is easily bigger than my forearm and turns back around to face me. The fear shoots through my body and I don’t even want to think about what he is going to do with that knife.

“Really? But don’t you wanna know who I am? Where I came from? How I know about your precious James Barnes?” the way he says Bucky’s name is a direct taunt to me and it makes me struggle against the restraints again.

“Fuck you!”

“A little touchy now aren’t we? Did I hit a soft spot?” and at the same time he says that, he slips the knife into the soft part of my flesh at the bottom of my stomach. I scream out in pain and he just digs the knife in a little farther before he pulls it out and a rush of relief floods through me before the searing pain sinks in.

“Fuck you,” is all I can say back to him and he smiles again. Digs the knife in again. Pulls it back out slowly.

“Let’s tell you the story anyway. The story of a young doctor working for the Russians. They had brought in this boy from the mountains. Badly bleeding. His arm was mangled and had to be amputated immediately,” I let the tears roll down my body as he looks over the blood covered knife then stares back at me. “We were thinking about letting him die but we obviously found a much more suitable position for our Mr. Barnes. I wasn’t the lead doctor on the project but I was the one that they decided to put under to make sure that everything went well with our asset in the future,” his words cause me to pause and to look at him. He has a smug smile on his face that tells me that he is enjoying this interaction very much.

“Put under?” I stammer out, and I watch his eyes alight with a flame before he wipes the blood from my stomach on my dirty and torn t-shirt and sets it back down in its initial resting spot.

“Surely you know what put under means. Barnes went through it as well as Mr. America. Though, Rodgers wasn’t intentional like Mr. Barnes was,” he picks up a pair of pliers that have already caused me enough pain and fidgets with them a bit before coming back over to stand above me. “I guess timelines got a little messed up because they pulled Barnes out a lot faster than they did me,” he grabs one of my fingers within the pliers and begins to add light pressure to it with every few seconds that passes. “You can imagine my surprise when I wake up to find out that no in this era knows anything about the asset that I had helped to create,” more pressure and more pain.

That’s how he remembers Bucky. Because he wasn’t technically alive when I went in and erased everyone’s memories,

“But that doesn’t explain how you knew about-“ I cut myself off with an ear piercing scream that comes out of me when he closes the pliers all of the way and I can feel the bones in my fingers being crushed. The pain radiates throughout my whole body and it send black spots into my vision.

“How I knew about what? About you? Well, you Avengers aren’t the only ones that have powers in the world. One of my men, a true genius, has a photographic memory. And he distinctly remembers a girl that looks just like you prancing around his memory. He cant remember what you took from him, the knowledge that he had, but I guess you forgot to erase yourself from his memory before you left,” he moves onto the next finger and repeats the same torturous action with my left middle finger. I scream again as he shatters the finger and he laughs. “You gonna talk now?”

“Never,” I mumble, taking deep breaths to try and calm my heart down. The electricity is still running through my head and the tears that are streaming down my face blur my vision. I can only see the basic outline of the man that is slowly killing me.

“You do know that I am not opposed to breaking every bone in your body to get what I want, right?” he moves onto my ring finger and puts my finger between the pliers.

“Fuck you,” I spit at him again and this time, my blood colored saliva hits him directly in the face. I can feel myself smile a bloody smile that hurts like a bitch.

And that is when the pliers slam shut and the searing pain floods through me and I finally go black.

~

Bucky’s POV:

“What if this has nothing to do with the enemies of Shield and the Avengers? What if it is more specific than that?” Bruce says as we are sitting back in the conference room for the umpteenth time in the past 2 and a half weeks. 2 and a half weeks od Y/N being gone and none of us are any closer to finding her. For all any of us know, she could be dead already.

“what do you mean?” Cap sits forward a little bit and I can see that he looks just as tired as everyone else does in this situation. People working as much as they can to bring Y/N back.

“Well, think about it? What does someone want with Y/N? She isn’t a true part of the Avengers. Has never been out on a proper mission with the team. Her whole job was to take care of Bucky. To bring him back from that state And then it just so happens that she gains someone’s attention after she has pulled all memories of Bucky from everyone? That doesn’t seem like a coincidence to me,”

“But no one on the planet remembers Bucky. It would have different if they had come after her before she took all of their memories away. Unless someone from Bucky’s past suddenly arose from the dead, I don’t think that it has anything to do with him,” Romanoff gives me a sympathetic smile that I don’t return. Everyone knows that I am not handling this well.

Suddenly an idea pops into my head and I sit up in the chair. Everyone suddenly stops talking and all eyes turn to me.

“What if they didn’t arise from the dead? What if they dethawed?” I am searching through all of my memories. Who was that man that they put me under with? Their was a little doctor that said that he would be more than happy to wake up in the future and make sure that everything worked out fine..

I pull myself through all of my old memories. And then I get his head stuck in my head.

Dr. Orlov.

Nice to see you again.

Taglist: 

@jacks-on-krack @tbetz0341 @haleypearce @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @zestygingergirl @jemjem-chan @rachelmc97 @fesslasuisse @vvonder-lands @ran-randomness  @zohoffman  @geeksareunique  @m4df4n

[useyernamesteven]

I, Ava

Listen. This title makes me think of that movie “I, Robot” and, unpopular opinion perhaps, but I just really love the headcanon that Ava is a cyborg. Like, listen:

After it’s creation, the Board of Directors at the Time Bureau decides they want perfection. They want strong and smart and orderly agents who won’t be tempted like any average (human) agents could be to break time protocol. So they agree to a semi secret operation to recruit a few people from various timelines who are in jeopardy of dying and turn them into, well cyborgs.

(Rip isn’t particularly happy with this. After all, he’s been in love with an AI for... since forever, but he’s outnumbered by the other directors and thus keeps quiet).

Rip is actually the one who pulls Ava from her timeline. Her file says she was a soldier who nearly died sacrificing herself to save her fellow squadmates from a grenade/bomb blast. She fits the qualifications that they’re looking for, but for some reason Rip feels something more when he looks at Ava. She’s different and he can’t figure out why yet.

The awful thing about this program is that the Directors are essentially looking for mindless drones they can program to fit their orders. They’ll receive all kinds of enhancements (robotic limbs, artificial pieces, synthetic skin, etc.) and they’ll pretty much look like an ordinary human, but they won’t be. They’ll all be installed with neural processors and programmed to be the perfect agents who don’t have those unnecessary things called basic human emotions to distract them.

(Again Rip is not happy with the way this works because Gideon was a conscious entity who at least had a capacity to understand, to learn, and to almost feel. And turning these people into robotic zombies just makes his skin crawl. But again, his hands are tied. 

There’s just... something about Ava that Rip can’t shake. It’s not like he’s ever actually talked to her (she’s been in a coma since before he pulled her from her time) but he feels almost connected to her. He’s read her file more times than he can count and maybe it’s because he misses Gideon, or maybe it’s the way her profile reminds him of Sara, but whatever it is, Rip knows he can’t let this happen to her.

Its... a little too late, in a way. I mean, she already has her enhancements, synthetic skin, neural processor and all, but Rip has to do something. So that night, the night right before they’re about to launch the new agents, Rip breaks into the lab and sets out to rewrite Ava’s program.

He finds himself stumped though because while he wants to program her with a conscience like Gideon, if she acts differently than the other cyborg agents then there will be an investigation which could lead to discovering her faulty code and then it would all be for naught.

So he devises a plan: Ava will be the perfect cyborg agent just like the rest of them. Initially. But as time progresses, she will slowly begin to learn and understand and feel which won’t alert anyone of her ‘humaness’. What he really needs is some kind of code to activate this programming, some kind of trigger moment, or someone-

The answer hits him harder than a bow staff.

And that’s how it goes. Ava (and the other cyborgs) become the perfect agents. Rip’s fond of Ava and they grow close, or as close as one can get to an unfeeling cyborg, but even now Ava’s showing signs of feeling and understanding (although she doesn’t fully get why or what she feels, but it’s still there, like a spark in her circuit unit).

The feelings seem to grow when she meets Gary, a gittery, annoying technician who doesn’t quite fit in with the other agents. They form an unlikely friendship, or what constitutes as friendship, and Gary learns that Ava is one of the cyborg agents after a mission damages her synthetic skin and exposes one of her robotic limbs.

(When Rip finds out that Gary knows about Ava, he clues him in on Ava’s secret programming and assigns him as Ava’s personal technician, should anything ever go wrong and someone needs to repair her. Gary swears to never tell a soul because he actually likes and trusts Ava, even if she isn’t “normal”).

And then the day comes that Rip has been waiting years for. The Legends break into the Time Bureau and Ava meets Sara for the first time.

To say he’s amused that the first real emotion Ava is actually able to feel would be anger is a bit of an understatement.

And of course Ava doesn’t understand. The initial ‘sparks’ she felt connecting her to Rip and Gary have turned into a series of bursts and flares every time she has to deal with Ms. Lance. Gary helps a little, telling her that the sparks are actually emotions (annoyance, frustration, anger). But she still doesn’t understand why she feels these things or what they actually mean to her.

But she begins to. Slowly (as Rip had programmed her to do), she begins to not only understand, but she gets things now. She has knowledge on the body’s response to fear, but she’s never felt afraid before being nearly slaughtered by a Saber Tooth Tiger. She knows how to detect when someone is thankful but she’s never felt so relieved as she does when she successfully pulls Sara through the portal to whatever unnamely dimension she had been stuck in. She’s read countless files on physical beauty but she’s come to realize that she actually finds Sara beautiful.

(She asks Gary if there’s a problem with her circuiting because the sparks have turned into a constant hum in the back of her neural cortex and she feels like she can’t breathe because her chest feels so light and airy. Gary smiles and tells her she’s in love).

And that just seems to open a whole new can of worms. Ava reads every article and report and informational forum she can get her hands on (she has access to the internet in her brain so it’s... a lot). And still, no amount of reading prepares her for the giddiness in her stomach at the sight of Sara, or for the happiness in her smile when she talks to Sara, or for the love she feels for Sara so suddenly, so acutely, like it had been there the entire time.

(And when they finally kiss Ava’s sure Sara’s irreparably damaged her neural cortex because wow).

Ava finds out about Rip’s special programming when Gary accidentally lets slip about it. Ava confronts Rip, a heavy weight she feels in her chest that she’s read is called ‘sadness’, and Rip tries to explain that he didn’t do this to hurt her. He did it to save her. 

(Ava wonders if she was ever really in love with Sara and Rip smiles and tells her that he you can’t program love. It’s the only saving grace in this dismal situation.)

Now Ava has a new emotion to add to her growing repertoire: guilt. She’s never really told anyone that she’s not fully human before (yeah there had been Gary but he doesn’t count really because they worked together) and she can’t imagine how Sara would react to the knowledge. And the fear she feels at the notion that Sara might reject her for not being “normal” keeps her from telling the love of her life who, or what, she really is.

(Gary tries to tell her that Sara would love her no matter what but she’s also too distraught to listen).

Everything comes to a head when they have to face off against Damien and Nora Darhk in some timeline. They’re attempting to kidnap Rip for Mallus’s master plan and in the heat of battle Sara gets injured. Ava’s programming calculates that she can save Rip faster than she can save Sara but she hesitates, fighting the code in her head with the feeling in her heart. And just before Rip is captured he tells Ava to save Sara (”save the girl”) and so Ava does.

Ava opens a portal just in time to shield Sara from a blast with her body and the force of the blast sends them hurtling through the portal onto the Waverider. The team are overjoyed their captain is okay and Sara can hardly believe they survived but when they see Ava, clutching a mangled robotic arm that’s sparking and looking like she’s in pain, they’re beyond shocked.

(Mick: “Your girlfriends a robot?”)

Just then another portal opens and Gary jumps through, talking a mile a minute about how the Directors are coming for them and that Ava is in danger but it’s too late. Several portals open, guns get pointed and people get grabbed, and suddenly the Legends are forced to stand down at gun point. Sara is being held by two Directors and she’s screaming obscenities when Director Bennett walks into the room.

Gary tries to stand between him and Ava but Bennett hits him over the head with the butt of his gun before another agent drags him to the side. Bennett orders Ava to submit and Ava struggles against her code long enough to tell them that she isn’t theirs anymore. Two cyborg agents force Ava to her knees and Bennett opens the panel at the back of her head. Ava gives a distraught Sara a sad smile before Bennett yanks out her power core and she drops.

(Everyone screams. Sara screams the loudest.)

The Directors retreat (the Legends definitely retaliate) and Sara races to Ava’s side. Gary says that without her power core she’ll die in minutes.

It’s Zari who comes up with the idea to use a proton energy reactor as a replacement but Gary says they’ll need to filter down the power otherwise it’ll blow her entire system. Gideon pipes up then and says that she can stabilize Ava’s power but she’ll need to override Ava’s neural computer to do it. The team share a look and silently agree that they have no other option.

With baited breath they watch as Zari places the proton energy reactor into Ava’s power core and Gideon hooks herself up to Ava’s circuit unit. Alarms start blaring, Gideon’s hologram fizzles as the power surge messes with the ship, and everything goes dark.

For a moment nothing happens. Then the lights come on and Gideon’s hologram returns just as Ava jolts awake. Everyone heaves a relieved sigh as Sara embarrassingly throws herself into Ava’s arms (one of which is still ruined) and kisses the crap out of her.

Gideon hates to interrupt but she informs the team that while she had been filtering Ava’s power she happened upon a program buried deep in Ava’s neural cortex that can be used to defeat Mallus.

(Everyone stares at Ava and then at Gary who looks just as lost and says that Rip was the one who did all of Ava’s programming and that only he has access to it. Gary just kept her updated.)

So the Legends rally to save Rip and confront Damien and Nora and Mallus once and for all. Zari essentially equips Ava with a new arm and awesome tech, joking about how she can’t wait to get her hands on Ava’s programming (Ava’s only slightly more terrified by that than she should be).

The team ends up getting there just in time to save the Time Bureau agents who are trying to fight the Darhks. They’re able to defeat Damien and Nora just as Rip shows up, but he’s being possessed by Mallus. He runs off and Sara and Ava give chase.

They try to fight his attacks but they can’t hurt Rip and end up getting beaten. Rip pins Sara and Mallus leaves his body, aiming to possess Sara’s, when Ava pushes Sara from out of the way and Mallus possess her.

Or at least he tries to. The human part of her head he can control but the cyborg part he can’t. Which is exactly according to plan. Just then Gideon activates the program which in turn activates the totems and destroys Mallus as he’s forced from Ava’s body.

Sara and Ava embrace just as the rest of the team show up and everyone whoops and hollers because they’ve finally managed to save the day without fucking it up first.

Rip smiles as he dusts himself off, glad his plan to give Gideon the access code to Ava’s program had worked out like he had hoped.

The Time Bureau pardons the Legends from all previous grievances but also warns them not to fuck anything up anymore. Rip, Ava, and Gary get pardoned as well but are essentially fired. And when they turn to the Legends who turn to Sara, she salutes and says “welcome to the Legends”.

(Gary becomes fast friends with Wally and gets along surprisingly well with Zari. He might also have a little crush on her but he knows nothing will come of it, especially after he catches Zari making heart eyes at Amaya... more than once).

(Sara tries to hand command of the Waverider back to Rip but he declines, saying that she’s more than earned the title of captain. Gideon still calls him captain though and Rip’s started making plans on giving Gideon a physical form, kind of like Ava).

(After much trepidation Ava finally works up the nerve to talk to Sara about her “non-normalness”. She struggles and stutters trying to explain that what she feels for Sara is real and wonderful and love, “it’s love” and Sara just smiles a cute little half puckered smile before she grabs Ava and kisses her. When they pull back she tells Ava that she doesn’t want her to be normal and that she loves her too).

[izzyfromdeadspace]

Izzy's star buzzed within her and she couldn't deny that she shared in its excitement. Sure she'd been ripped from her home and dumped into who knew where but she was safe and could actually pretend to be human for once. L had given her an option to not struggle with basic needs or the pain of having to fight to survive.

She nodded at his directions and for a moment she let her light wash over him. It would be like an endless source of energy reaching out and poking at him like a curious child. Its energy spoke of countless years of suffering and clinging to a hope that it had almost lost. Of worlds that no longer existed and a lost twin that had been swallowed by the void. Honestly it 'talked' as if it hadn't had anyone to listen in centuries. Izzy found she had to reign it in before it just spilled all their secrets.

"Down the hall got it. Thanks L." She gave an embarassed lopsided smile before scampering off to the bathroom. Once inside she peeled off her suit and tossed it into the washing basket. Stepping into the spray of the shower felt like heaven and she spent an hour scrubbing herself clean and patching up her wounds. She even cut her hair so it was no longer a bloody matted mess. Standing in the middle of the floor she dried off and looked down at her patchwork flesh. Tracing a few of the more mangled scars she sighed.

"Okay we survived that shit an got a chance ta breathe. Let's not freak out an fuck up this chance we got." Speaking to her star she moved to the cupboard to find some clothes that would fit her. Finding a baggy shirt that slid off her shoulder and some leggings she got dressed. She wasn't much for clothes anymore seeing as she'd been living in her suit but this should do.

Heading out and down the hall she did her best not to trip over or bang into anything important. With her eyes glowing she did her best to feel out her new environment and make it to the library that L said he'd be waiting in. The purple lights from above caused her to glow a pale blue and seem almost ethereal as she entered the library. She could smell the books and a ton of aged paper.

Pudding into the room she looked a lot smaller outside of her suit. Like a doll broken a million times over and put together just a bit wrong. Eyes searching blindly she frowned just a bit. "Hey L? I appreciate the showah but ya might jus wanna hose my suit down out back with a pressure washah."

@amongst-lavender-stars

Izzy didn't know where she was or how she'd exactly gotten here. One moment she'd been fighting the hive mind and the next a flash of blinding lavender light had seemed to swallow her up.

Stumbling along the streets in her suit she looked horribly out of place and people were starting to talk about how she was covered in blood and gore. Not wanting to keep standing out she ducked into an alley and tried to get her bearings. Pulling up her display she tried to figure out where she was. This just didn't make sense. How could this world be so alive? Was this some trick from the beast to lower her guard.

When she realized that the air was breathable she retracted her helmet and took a deep breath. Coughing a bit she spat up some blood and sighed. "What the fuck have I fallen inta now?"

[xxlovendreamsxx]

Title: At Last

Summary: The day Sakura found out she was pregnant was quite one to remember indeed.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto.

Prompt: That Day

Rating: M

A/N: While I don’t believe they planned to have a baby on the road, this is still a fun and cute scenario to think about. I had lots of fun writing this :)

It wasn’t exactly how she’d ever pictured she would find out: sitting in the middle of a forest, tending to a campfire, watching the love of her life training aggressively against the trunk of an old tree, the warmest smile to her lips—and then, a faint thrumming sensation, odd and completely unfamiliar, sparking low in her belly.

Bemused, Sakura looked down on herself and blinked, touching a palm to her abdomen. An infection, perhaps? she mused, brows furrowing. Shaking her head, the thought was dismissed near-instantly; no, that wasn’t possible—in all her years of experience, she knew with certainty that infections had never been capable of throwing chakra paths off route so much.

Growing evermore perplexed, Sakura simply summoned forth the most basic of her medical techniques, setting about a curious exploration to her body. It was only seconds before she found herself stiffening rigidly, brilliant mind blanking and green eyes snapping wide, rendered entirely speechless by her discovery.

It wasn’t an infection—she’d been right about that. And it wasn’t an instability in her chakra channels either—in fact, there was absolutely nothing wrong with her.

No, she was simply… pregnant.

Her heart stuttered in her chest. A flurry of warmth washed over the whole of her. Pregnant, she thought again, feeling the sweet pulse of this new chakra.

Breathless, stunned, Sakura looked up at the man she loved—at the father of the child growing within her belly—still training in the distance, and stared, heartbeat beginning to pound away deafeningly. Pregnant… with Sasuke-kun’s child, her mind echoed once more, still grasping at this new reality.

A long, dazed silence took place. And then, the widest, most glowing smile slipped to her lips. She was pregnant!

Sasuke was going to be so happy. She couldn’t wait to tell him.

.

.

Funnily enough, it wasn’t him who was taken by surprise later that night; preoccupied with taking down their freshly dried clothes from a pseudo laundry wire, Sakura had barely taken notice of her sweaty husband making his way back to their camp before he’d flash-stepped in front of her and promptly pulled her against him, mouth finding hers hungrily. Gasping sharply, and feeling more than a little flustered by such unexpected display of pure, raw passion, Sakura could do nothing but squeak in response, fingers reaching out to clench tightly at the damp material of his shirt.

She couldn’t help the way her stomach quivered as his own hand delved eagerly beneath her own clothes, running up her smooth skin with fervor, lips breaking from her own only to pepper a hot path of wet kisses along her shoulders and neck. Her eyes slipped shut at that, the softest sound mangling sweetly in her next breath, inciting him to bite into her flesh with a groan. Her fists clenched around him tighter in return, cheeks heating with desire. She held no complaints at all when Sasuke started carefully leading her backwards towards their tent.

Lone hand delving eagerly into her soft, pink locks, his mouth found hers again, kissing her slowly, deeply. Sakura felt as though her whole body on fire. Wasting no moment to respond, she kissed him back hotly, dragging her nimble fingers down firmly across his chest before hooking them at the line of his pants, earning herself a low warning growl. She almost shuddered at the sound alone.

And yet, he was gentle, startlingly, as he ushered her inside the tiny space and set her down on their sleeping mats; even moreso, she found, as he languidly stripped her of her clothes, leaving her bare. Though his kisses never lacked fervor, Sakura couldn’t help but to notice the particular tenderness in the way his hand smoothed across her skin, touching and stroking and pressing with something that felt a lot like absolute reverence.

(like the sweetest worship.)

It was too easy to lose her mind to it.

But then his mouth started a maddeningly slow descent along her body, nipping and sucking and licking with too-clear intent, and her back arched into his touch, the most shuddering breath tumbling from her throat. Greedy hands snatched out to find purchase in his hair, gripping with enough strength to have him groan. His hand pushed her thighs open wider at that, sending her stomach quivering.

And then, he was there, tasting her; working the heat of her with his tongue, teasing her sensitivity with his lips. Sakura’s hips bucked instantly against the sensations, a needy moan wrenching from her mouth, fingers tightening viciously around his locks. There was no helping her trembling as he groaned again, the vibrations rippling through her all too deliciously, sending her whimpering.

With her desperate state, and his expert knowledge, it wasn’t long before he had her stumbling over the edge, crying out in relief.

But Sasuke wasn’t done, it seemed. Grip tightening around her thigh, he merely took his mouth back down and worked her wet heat patiently, mercilessly, sending her thrashing about in a mess of frenzied moans, struggling to catch both her breath and thoughts. He didn’t relent until he’d brought her two more powerful orgasms; rendering her mind to absolute putty and causing her lungs to struggle in gasping in air, tears of blissful exertion prickling at her eyes.

What could have possibly made Sasuke so passionate tonight? she wondered, as her brain finally seemed to gain its sense once more. But Sakura didn’t have the time to dwell on that as her lover swiftly moved to rid himself of his own clothing, exposing tan, beautifully scar-marred skin to her yearning gaze, catching her full attention.

As he reached to balance himself over her once more, she felt her throat close up, caught up under the pure softness of his stare. Her heart stuttered in her chest as his lone hand slid in silent worship over the length of her side. Gods, she treasured these moments when his love seeped in so clearly.

She hadn’t even realized her tears had spilled before the man she loved quietly leaned over, kissing them away carefully. She couldn’t find it in herself to care that more escaped as his mouth finally pressed against her own, dragging her in a long, deep kiss, heavy with affection. Heart swelling impossibly, it was all Sakura could manage to snake her arms around his neck and respond in kind, hooking her legs over his hips.

“Please,” she whispered against his lips, brows furrowed with need and legs tightening desperately around his form. She raked her nails down to his shoulders feverishly, sharp nails digging into his skin with enough force to have him stiffen. “Please, Sasuke-kun, now.”

She didn’t need to ask him twice.

With a shift onto his bad arm, and the help of his hand, Sasuke finally pushed his way inside, chest rumbling with a low sound before he moved to bury his face against her neck, her name whispered in a breath. Sakura’s eyes only flew shut in response, nails scratching at his back as her mouth parted with a mewl. This… This was exactly what she wanted.

(entangled in his arms, and fusing into a single soul; hearts and bodies melding together as closely as they could get.)

Slowly, and with a tenderness that he only ever displayed in moments like these, her Sasuke-kun made love to her; kissing every inch of her skin that his mouth allowed him to reach, whispering her name through the quietest groans, lone hand reaching to entwine their fingers together. And his eyes, oh, his eyes—when had he ever looked at her like this? With so much warmth, so much affection, so much love?

(so much… gratitude? but… for what?)

Sakure felt her throat close up from it all, fingers squeezing around his own as she buried her free hand in his hair, suddenly desperate to be closer. Urging him down, she captured his lips in a deep, earnest kiss, unable to explain the wave of emotion that swept over her as he responded, whispering her name like she was everything.

She lost herself once more that night; to his love, his tenderness, his touch. There was no helping every confession that lost itself on her lips after that, overwhelmed by everything her husband’s heart held for her.

It wasn’t long before their end came into teetering view.

Hips finally picking up pace, Sakura braced herself against her husband and slowly began spiraling out into the sweet release of bliss: gasping breathless moans, slanting trembling lips over his, desperate little pleas tumbling from her mouth as she clawed with reckless abandon and tried to meet his rhythm. Her request wasn’t lost on him, his name leaving her mouth in a cry as his hand left her own to slide down at her ass and slam his hips deeply into hers, sending her quickly falling off the edge.

It was only when she started coming down from her high that Sasuke breached his limit as well. Gruffly murmuring into her ear to open her legs wider, he tightened his hold on her ass and lifted her into his thrusts as she did as he asked, a broken groan of her name ripping from his throat. And then, he stiffened against her, his rough hand holding her possessively in place, hips grinding as deeply inside of her as he could—as if making sure she was receiving every bit he had to offer. 

(a habit, she knew—a hot one that he’d developed since they’d started trying to conceive barely a month ago.)

She’d always loved the sensation, had always relished in it and how it felt, at times only leaving her craving for more—but today, in this moment, Sakura couldn’t help but to be reminded of the fact that they’d already succeeded in their goal.

(that she already carried his child within her.)

Burying her face in the crook of his neck shyly, Sakura locked her legs around him once again, and bit her lip, allowing herself a moment to bask in the feel his warm wetness inside of her. Then, threading her hand softly through his hair, she gathered her courage and said, “H-hey, Sasuke-kun, um… you, ah, don’t actually need to—”

“I know,” he murmured without missing beat, bringing his large hand down to her stomach. Leaning on the remnants of his other arm, he pulled away to lock his too-soft eyes with her own and smiled faintly, stroking the skin of her belly with all the tenderness in the world. “You’re pregnant.”

Her mouth dropped open. “H-How did you—?”

“When I came back from training… my sharingan was deactivating—but before it did, I saw it. I… saw the chakra inside you.” I saw our child.

A blush bloomed charmingly across her cheeks. “So that’s why you…?”

In reply, Sasuke merely cupped her jaw and moved to kiss her deeply; slow, and long, and heavy with something that made her heart pound. Sakura was speechless when he pulled back.

“I was grateful,” he murmured, thumbing the skin of her cheek. His eyes somehow held more fondness than before. “You made me grateful.”

(“you made me happy.”)

Feeling the burn of tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, Sakura simply dragged him closer and pressed their foreheads together, the brightest smile slipping to her lips. “We’re gonna have a baby,” she said, giggling.

She couldn’t help but to laugh louder as Sasuke caught her mouth to his again, sliding a hand over her abdomen once more.

[reid-like-roses]

All I Need - Chapter 3

Read on FF.net

Summary: After the Mountain Glenn plot failed, Roman was imprisoned while Neo escaped. Enraged by Roman’s failure of her plan, Cinder punishes Neo by torturing her, banishing her from her faction and occupying Neo’s hideouts. Now homeless and without a weapon, Neo winds up far from Vale and is trapped in a blizzard. But then she’s saved by the most unlikely of heroes. Post Volume 2 AU

Content Rating: T

Word Count: 5,218

Author’s Note: Post Volume 2 AU where basically none of Volume 3 or beyond happened. Neo is mute in this story and any dialogue from her is implied or inner monologue and will be written in italics.

TRIGGER WARNING!!! Implied torture and implied rape/non-con contained in chapter. If you do not wish to read these events, turn back now.

RWBY and all the characters within are the intellectual property of Rooster Teeth Productions, Miles Luna, Kerry Shawcross, Gray Haddock and the late Monty Oum. I am not being compensated in any way for this story and wrote it merely for entertainment purposes.

“You can come out now, sis,” Yang told Ruby as she rolled her eyes at her sister’s behavior. Ruby opened the door fully and tried to exit the closet but she tripped over a bucket and crashed down to the floor with a shrill yell. An avalanche of cleaning supplies, Christmas decorations and old videotapes fell on top of the young reaper. As Ruby struggled to extricate herself from the mess, Yang sighed and shook her head.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you’re so freaked out, Ruby. You really need to chill out,” scolded Yang as she held out a hand to help Ruby up.

“Gee, I dunno, Yang,” snapped Ruby. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that the last time we saw her, she was kicking your ass so hard that I’m surprised it’s not still bruised.”

“Language, young lady” Taiyang said as he came downstairs to investigate the loud crash. Ruby muttered something under her breath as she walked over to the refrigerator and pulled a jar down from on top of it labeled ‘Swear Jar.’ She then fished a lien out of her pocket and stuffed it in the jar before returning it to its place.

“Yeah, last time she wiped the floor with me,” muttered Yang bitterly, clearly not fond of the memory Ruby just brought up. “But this isn’t last time. I mean just look at her.”

“Regardless of her current condition,” Taiyang said calmly, holding up both hands to try to appeal for peace between the two sisters, “we still need to have a talk about what’s going to happen with our new guest.”

“I already told you that I’m not going to let you kick her out, Dad.” Yang bristled.

“I know. And I agree with what you said. I let my emotions get the better of me and you’re right, it would be inhumane to kick her out with nowhere to go in weather like this. But we have to stay on our toes because we don’t know how long it’s going to be before her friends come looking for her.”

“I don’t think she’s a threat right now,” said Yang far more calmly than she had been a moment ago. “She had a bit of a breakdown and during it, she told me how she’s lost everything, including her house and all her friends. And I could tell it wasn’t just an act. She’s legitimately at the end of her rope right now.”

“And you believe her?” Ruby asked incredulously.

“Yes, Ruby, I do,” Yang shot back with a scowl.

“I know you want to believe her, Yang," sighed Taiyang wearily, "but the fact remains that she’s not somebody who deserves our trust.”

“I know she doesn’t deserve it but I dunno. I just have this gut feeling about her that she really needs somebody to help her. And I feel like I can do that for her. Maybe we can make her an ally?”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” muttered Ruby just loud enough to be heard by everyone.

“At some point soon,” Taiyang said sharply to counter Ruby’s interruption, “you need to talk to her and get as much information out of her as you can. We need to know why she’s here on Patch and what she was doing before you found her.”

“I’m not going to interrogate her, Dad,” Yang said in annoyance. “She’s not some prisoner. She’s done nothing wrong to us.”

“Does helping crash a train into downtown Vale and letting the city get overrun by Grimm not ring any bells?” Ruby asked sardonically.

“That’s enough, Ruby,” snapped Taiyang as he rounded on his younger daughter. “Upstairs to your room, now.”

“But Daddy!” Ruby protested.

“No buts. Yang and I are trying to have a serious talk about this matter and you’re not contributing anything positive. March upstairs until we’re done.” Ruby huffed in annoyance and stuck her tongue out at Yang who just rolled her eyes. Ruby then stomped loudly upstairs and slammed her door behind her. Taiyang grimaced and shook his head in disappointment. As mature and gifted as Ruby had been to be accepted into Beacon early, sometimes she could still be a teenage brat.

“Anyway,” said Yang to break the silence, “as I said, I’m not going to interrogate her. If you want answers from her so badly, call up Qrow or Ozpin.”

“I really don’t want it to have to come to that if it doesn’t have to,” Taiyang said heavily, worn out from all that had happened in the past day. “I’m hoping that she’ll be willing to talk simply because of what you did for her.”

“Even if she would be willing to talk to me, do you really think she’d give me a straight answer?”

“It’s tough to say. I guess it really depends on how much she wants to protect her allies. If what she told you already is true and she’s acting on her own, I see no reason why she’d lie.” As Yang was about to offer another retort, the smoke alarm suddenly started beeping. “Oh no, I forgot about our dinner!”

Taiyang dashed to the oven and threw open the door to find the roast he was cooking had been badly burned. Acrid smoke poured out and caused Taiyang to start coughing. Yang groaned and grabbed the fire extinguisher from the closet Ruby had been hiding in and quickly doused the flames.

“So, spaghetti then?” Yang asked as she waved her hand to try and clear the smoke from her face. Taiyang simply nodded as he pulled the burnt roast from the oven.

————————————————————————————————-

“Neo? Wake up Neo,” said a cool, menacing female voice. Neo did come to and the first thing she saw was the glinting amber eyes of Cinder Fall. Behind her were her lackeys, Emerald Sustrai and Mercury Black. All three were wearing identical malicious smirks on their faces. Cinder reached up to lightly caress Neo’s face as she spoke again. “I don’t think you understand this game, Neo. If you die, then I can’t keep inflicting pain on you. And I’ve been having so much fun.”

Neo wanted to sign something nasty to her in reply but her hands and ankles were bound and she was unable to move. The cool air hitting her skin made Neo shiver and she realized she was naked. Neo looked down at her body and saw a large amount of scratches, cuts, bruises and dried blood all over her skin.

“I haven’t even gotten to have my turn with the little slut yet,” crooned Mercury, suggestively fiddling with his belt as he said it. “You two ladies have gotten all the fun so far.”

“Please let me know when you plan on doing that so I can be as far away as humanly possible,” growled Emerald. “The last thing I need to see is your disgusting ass in mid coitus.”

“Aw, but Emerald, I need your tips on how to properly fuck this bitch. You seemed to really enjoy making her scream earlier.”

“Quiet you two,” snapped Cinder, letting her fake pleasant façade slip for a second. “You’ll get your chance to get your rocks off Mercury. But there’s more pressing matters to attend to right now. Tell me Neo, have you ever read the works of Shan Yu?”

“Uh, she can’t tell you anything, boss,” interrupted Mercury in befuddlement. “She can’t talk, remember?”

“It’s an expression, you dense moron,” Emerald hissed as she elbowed Mercury in the abdomen hard enough to drive the wind out of him. “Shut up and let Cinder finish.”

“Thank you, Emerald,” said Cinder with a smile. She then walked over to a table nearby and picked up an instrument with lots of sharp, pointy ends on it. Cinder flipped a switch on it and it hummed to life with a threatening buzzing noise. She then sauntered over to Neo and pressed the tip of the device right against her belly button.

“Now, if you haven’t read his works Neo, he was a dictator many centuries ago who had some rather fascinating insights on war and humanity. One of my favorite things he wrote was, ‘Live with a man 40 years. Share his house, his meals. Speak on every subject. Then tie him up, and hold him over the volcano’s edge. And on that day, you will finally meet the man.’ Now we’ve been associated for a little while, Neo, but you’ve always been hanging around with Roman while I was busy with my plans. And I don’t feel we ever really got the chance to get to know each other. But now that we have all this time to ourselves, I’m dying to meet the real you.”

As Cinder pressed a button that caused the device to stab into her, Neo’s eyes flew open as she woke up in terror. After a frantic few moments of looking around, she realized that she was back in the guest room of the house on Patch. Pain shot through her left leg and she winced as she started unraveling herself from her cocoon of blankets. When Neo finally got to her leg, she was horrified at how mangled it looked. She hadn’t had a chance yet to survey the damage she’d suffered from the beowolves and falling out of the tree.

Neo tried desperately to fight back tears as she heard a small yip come from the floor beside her. She glanced down to see Zwei looking up at her with as much concern as a dog’s face could manage. He ran to the bedroom door then back to where he was, looking between Neo and the door every couple seconds. Neo realized he was asking if he should get help and Neo nodded emphatically at him. Zwei ran back to the door and began scratching at it, barking as loudly as he could. A few moments later, Neo heard heavy footsteps running down the stairs and an instant later, a disheveled looking Yang burst into the room.

“What is it Zwei? What’s wrong?” Zwei ran back over to the bed and put his front paws up on the mattress to draw Yang’s attention to Neo. Yang saw her face screwed up in agony and she quickly moved to Neo’s bedside. “What happened? What do you need?”

“I had a bad dream and I woke up with my leg killing me. Do you have any pain meds?”

“Of course, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Yang dashed back out of the room as Neo laid back down on her pillows. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed the pain before but assumed that she must have just been so numb from the cold that she didn’t notice. A minute later, Yang was back with a handful of pills and a glass of water. Neo took both and quickly downed the pills.

“Thanks,” Neo signed as she set the glass down on the bedside table.

“You’re welcome. Do you need anything else? Should I hang out for a bit?”

“That would be nice.” Yang nodded and went back to the door to close it. She then sat down at the foot of the bed and scanned her eyes over Neo. Yang had been too preoccupied with getting her warm that she hadn’t noticed just how beaten up Neo was. Ugly scars and bruises, both fresh and still healing were all over the skin that Yang could see. Neo shivered as she realized just how cold she was and retreated back under the blankets. But it was still too cold for her.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” replied Yang with a self-satisfied smirk. Neo shot Yang a death glare that Blake would have been impressed by before she resumed signing.

“When I came to, I felt very warm and safe. And then I hit you, which means you must have been close by me. Were you cuddling with me?”

“I mean, if you want to look at it like that, sure.”

“Pervert,” Neo signed with a joking smirk on her face.

“Hey, it wasn’t like that at all, got it?” Yang shot back defensively. “Your body was ice cold and I needed to take every measure I could to keep you alive. So I held onto you all night and made sure you got warm.”

Neo paused for a moment as a deep blush crept over her face. “Would you be willing to do it again?”

“For real?” Yang asked, a blush of her own blooming on her face. “Uh, sure. I could do that again.” Yang pulled the blankets aside and stepped into the bed with Neo. After taking a moment to get herself comfortable, Yang apprehensively snaked her right arm under Neo’s neck and held it close against her. Neo stiffened up as she felt the warmth of Yang creep over her. She suddenly felt very small and helpless as she was wrapped up in the arms of the huntress.

“Are you okay? You’re very tense. Are you sure this is okay?” Neo realized she wasn’t in an optimal position to sign a reply so she pointed to the dry erase board on the bedside table. Yang grabbed it and handed it over to the mute woman.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just never been cuddled with before. At least not as far as I can remember.”

“Torchwick wasn’t much of a touchy-feely kinda guy, eh?”

Neo glared at Yang and quickly wrote back, “Not that it’s any of your business but no, he’s not. And Roman and I never had a relationship like that.”

“Okay, sorry. Didn’t mean tick you off.” The two fell silent again as Neo tried to get used to the feeling of being cuddled. Even though she was still scared to be touched so intimately, the thrill of how good it felt intoxicated her. She buried her head against Yang’s chest and heard her heart beating rapidly. Eventually, Neo reached her arm around Yang’s abdomen and hugged her closer to her.

“You feel really good.” Neo spelled out on Yang’s hip.

“Hey,” giggled Yang as she began to squirm, “watch it! That tickles!”

Neo reluctantly withdrew her arm so she could write and replied, “Sorry. I wish I had a better way to talk to you while keeping my arm around you.”

“It’s fine, you can go back to that. Also, you feel pretty nice too. You’re much warmer than the last time I did this.” Neo placed the board beside her on the bed and returned her arm to around Yang’s torso. They spent a few minutes snuggling, both getting drunk on the feeling of the other’s skin. Even though she was in utter bliss, Neo really had something to tell Yang so she once again picked up the dry erase board.

“I think I’m ready to talk to you now.”

“About your nightmare?” Yang questioned, a little sad that their great cuddle had come to an end.

“No. About me. About how I ended up like this.”

“Yeah?” Yang asked, trying to contain her excitement. “You sure you want to?”

“I’ve got nothing else to lose in my life. I might as well tell my story.”

“Okay, well what do you want to talk about first?”

“Whatever you want to know most about.”

“Well, there’s lots of things I want to know about you,” began Yang slowly, pondering the question. As she thought, her father’s request came back to her mind and she knew what she had to ask first. “But the first thing I should ask about is the one that I’ve been told I need to find out from you. Am I or anyone in my family in danger because you’re here?”

Neo started writing a lengthy response. Yang couldn’t help but be slightly nervous as to what would be waiting for her when Neo was finished. She really hoped that Neo wasn’t just being overdramatic earlier and really meant that she was by herself now. When Neo finished, she passed the board to Yang.

“Not as a direct result of me, no. After the train incident, I was severely punished for Roman’s failure and banished from the faction. I tried to lay low in one of our safehouses but I was captured again and dumped out of a plane. I think they meant for me to drown in the ocean but I ended up here instead. But the point is, anyone I was previously associated with is either imprisoned or considers me an enemy. And none of those individuals know my current whereabouts.”

Yang breathed a small sigh of relief that her family could stop worrying about being in danger from Neo. But Neo had mentioned something she couldn’t help wanting to hear more about. “You said you were punished. How bad was it?”

“It was bad. I’ll just leave it at that.” Neo wrote with a pained grimace on her face as the memories of how she was tortured came back to her. “Cinder probably should have just killed me but she chose to make me suffer instead.”

“Wait, Cinder? You mean that girl from Haven?” Yang asked in shock.

“Yeah, her. The whole thing was her plan. She, Emerald, Mercury and a bunch of pricks I didn’t get to meet are on some big crusade to punish the rest of the kingdoms or some shit like that for all of Mistral’s problems. I don’t know. I wasn’t ever really interested in their bullshit. I just did what I was asked to.”

“Wow. I can’t believe it was them all along. They fought alongside us in Vale. They helped clear out the Grimm. And it was them the whole time?” Neo nodded her head solemnly to confirm Yang’s question. An awkward silence fell between to two for a minute. Yang couldn’t believe what she had just been told. Was she going to have to go through the rest of her time as a huntress not knowing who to trust? Cinder and her friends had been so pleasant but they were the bad guys. Meanwhile, Neo had seemed like a complete monster but Yang was finding out she was nothing of the sort either.

“You still want to talk about me?” Neo wrote and stuck in front of Yang’s glazed over eyes.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” replied Yang, snapping out of her train of thought. “Sorry, that whole thing with Cinder just kind of threw me for a loop. Um, how about this? Were you born mute or did something happen to you that caused it?”

“No, I wasn’t born like this. I haven’t talked since I was a little girl. My parents’ house burned down and killed them but I somehow managed to survive. Ever since then, I haven’t been able to speak.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Where did you go then?”

“None of my other ‘family’ would take me in so I was sent to an orphanage to hopefully get adopted. That’s where I met Roman. His mom died giving birth to him and his dad didn’t want to raise a kid on his own so he just gave him away. He took pity on me and was my protector when we were there. I can’t even count how many times he was beaten for sticking up for me when the people who ran the orphanage or the other kids tried to give me trouble for not speaking.”

“So, did you ever get adopted?”

“No. It became clear to both of us when we hit our teens that we were lost causes and we were sick of all the shit at the orphanage. So, we ran away, just the two of us against the world. I unlocked my aura and learned how to fight and disguise myself. And Roman did all the talking.”

“Is that how you became criminals?”

“Look,” Neo began writing with a stern look at Yang, “you call it being criminals but we were two kids on our own with nothing in the world but each other so we did what we had to to survive. Did we rob people and steal things? Yeah, we did. Would you have done anything differently if you were in the same situation? If it was you and your sister who were homeless street rats, wouldn’t you do the exact same thing?”

“I guess,” admitted Yang begrudgingly. “So, then how’d you get mixed up in the whole take over the world stuff?”

“Roman never really gave me all the details as to what happened. He just told me that this woman came to him with an offer that was too good to pass up. He said that if it worked, we wouldn’t have to worry about being petty thieves ever again. We’d be set for life and all the people in power would get what’s coming to them.”

“Do you regret what you did at all?”

“To a point. Do I regret doing whatever it took to scrape out a living? No. Do I regret getting dragged into business with those assholes? Absolutely. I never wanted any of that. I just wanted to keep living like how we were.”

“What do you think you’re going to do once you’re better?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I mean, ideally, I’d love to find Cinder, break every bone in her body and then chop her up into a billion pieces. But beyond that, I don’t know.”

“Have you ever given thought to being a huntress?” Yang asked her hopefully. “With your fighting skills, you could be a really damn good one.”

“Ah, so that’s your game, is it? You’re gonna see the potential deep down inside me and try to turn me into a good girl, is that right? Turn me into a model citizen and make me renounce all my wicked ways?”

“No, that’s not it,” replied Yang with a guilty tone. She had to admit that the idea had crossed her mind even though she figured it was a lost cause. “I just figured that fighting is what you’re probably best at and why not make a proper career out of it?”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I may not be interested in bringing down Ozpin, Ironwood and all those pricks anymore but believe me when I say that they’re still pricks. And I don’t really care to be one of their lapdogs for bullying the rest of the world into behaving just like them.”

“You’re probably going to have to work with them if you want to get to Cinder so badly. And as good as you are, you’re not going to be able to take her down by yourself.”

“Yeah, I know I’m not good enough to beat them all myself. But I refuse to fight their war for them. If you’re fine with being their little disposable hero, you go right ahead. That’s not how I want to live my life, though.”

“I’m not really interested in that sort of stuff, either. I just want to travel around the world, have some adventures and kill some monsters. And if doing that helps out some people in need, that’s a bonus.”

“You may want that but that’s not what they want for you. And if this war really does end up kicking off, they’re going to drag you into it whether you want to fight or not.”

“Do you really think it’s going to come to that?” Yang asked nervously. “Do you think we’re gonna go to war?”

“It’s tough to say. Cinder and her cronies do have quite a lot of shit together and they’re certainly pissed off at the world enough to try something.”

“Remnant’s been at peace for so long. I can’t imagine what would happen if the kingdoms went to war against each other again.”

“Has it really? I bet your White Fang buddy would have something to say about that.”

“Neo, please,” said Yang in desperation, “you have to do this one thing for me. Promise me that you’ll do whatever you can to make sure that this war doesn’t happen.”

“And why should I help you with anything?”

“I don’t want to have to play this card but I did save your life. I know you don’t owe me anything but please, it would mean everything to me if you can somehow keep us from going to war. I’ve lost too many people in my life already and I don’t want war to take any more. Please, I’m begging you.”

Neo paused for a few moments to consider what Yang was asking for her. Finally, she closed her eyes and let out a defeated sigh as she began to write, “Okay, fine. I can’t guarantee that I can stop it. But I’ll give your leaders all the intel I can so that they can maybe put an end to it.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Yang hugged Neo tightly against her and caused a searing surge of pain from Neo’s wounds. Neo frantically flailed against Yang to try and get her to release her. Yang realized what she’d done and quickly backed away from Neo who was gritting her teeth in agony.

“You know I can’t be an informant if I’m broken in half, right?” Neo signed as the pain slowly began to ebb.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” muttered Yang sheepishly. “I should probably go and let you try and get back to sleep, yeah?” Yang went to leave but Neo quickly grabbed onto Yang’s wrist and held onto it tightly. Yang glanced back at Neo and saw she looked as surprised at her actions as Yang was. With her free hand, Neo grabbed her marker and wrote out a message for Yang.

“Please stay?” Yang read the message and then looked to Neo. She looked terrified and Yang wasn’t sure if it was because Yang might leave or because she’d written that note. Yang couldn’t help noting the similarity to Ruby when she was younger and would beg Yang to let her stay in Yang’s bed. Yang then soberly nodded and readjusted herself to how she was lying before. Neo returned her head onto Yang’s chest and listened to her heartbeat again. As strange as it was, just hearing that made Neo feel very safe and protected. Within a few minutes, both girls drifted off to sleep.

————————————————————————————————

Neo panted for breath as she glared at Emerald who was holding Neo’s parasol and malevolently twirling it in her fingers. Neo made a lunge for her but Emerald simply teleported away again and reappeared a few feet to her left. As Neo tried to strike Emerald again, a sudden kick from out of her vision landed right in her stomach and knocked the wind out of her. As Neo struggled for breath, another kick came at her, this time striking her in the jaw. Neo flopped to the ground but immediately tried to get back on her feet. As she raised her head, she saw Mercury standing above her, his leg poised in the air. He then brought his foot down with a smashing axe kick, causing the ground under Neo’s head to crack.

Emerald then hooked Neo by the back of her collar with the crook parasol and pulled Neo into a kneeling position. Through the fog caused by the kicks, Neo could faintly see the glowing eyes of Cinder walking towards her. As her vision fully recovered, Neo noticed the bow in Cinder’s hand with a frightening black arrow cocked back and aimed right at Neo’s heart.

“Tell me Neo, do you believe in destiny?” Cinder asked. But before any sort of answer could be given, the lights suddenly went out. Neo heard an arrow whiz by her face and clatter to the ground.

“Whoa, what happened?” Mercury yelled in surprise. “Everything suddenly went dark!”

“No kidding, genius,” grumbled Emerald. “The power went out. Go check the fusebox and see if it needs a new one.”

“No, wait,” Cinder said with a noticeable twinge of fear, “we must have been found out. Quickly, retreat.” The three villains tried to make their way out of the dark but suddenly Neo could hear blows being landed and grunts of pain. An enraged yell rang out and Neo looked up to see Cinder flashing in and out of light as muzzle blasts illuminated her while loud shotgun shots rang out. After several seconds of being pummeled, Cinder crumpled unconscious to the floor. Before she knew what was happening, Neo was scooped up by a pair of strong, sculpted arms and was being carried princess style away from her captors.

“It’s okay Neo, you’re safe now,” her savior said. Neo broke into a wide smile as she realized that she had been saved by Yang. She threw her arms around Yang’s neck and nuzzled her face against the blonde’s. Yang finally got the two of them out of the room and removed the night vision goggles she’d been wearing. She looked down at Neo who looked very relieved to be out of that mess.

“I always wondered what it would be like to be saved by my hero,” Neo signed to her.

“Yeah? Did I meet your expectations?” Yang asked cheekily.

“More than you ever could have done. I think you deserve a reward.” Neo then readjusted her body until her legs were wrapped around Yang’s torso and she was looking the blonde in the eye. She then pulled Yang in for a passionate kiss. Yang was all too happy to reciprocate as she ran her free hand through Neo’s hair.

“I love you,” Yang whispered against Neo’s lips. Neo shivered as goosebumps erupted down her spine and she slid her head down onto Yang’s shoulder. Yang hugged Neo tightly against her but not too tight as she lightly rubbed Neo’s back.

Neo tilted her head up and said hoarsely into Yang’s ear, “I love you too.”

Neo’s eyes snapped open and she found herself back in Yang’s guest room. Down the hall, Neo could faintly hear the sound of sizzling bacon and the delicious smell of pancakes. She then noticed that Yang was no longer in bed with her and judging by the temperature of the space next to her, she’d been gone for a little while. Neo felt a stray tear leak out of her eye and she sadly placed her hand on the pillow Yang had been using. She then recalled the dream she had been having and her heart fluttered at the memory of kissing Yang. As much as she enjoyed the thought of that happening, Neo had to admit that this was not good. Things were starting to get very complicated for her very fast. And if she didn’t get her emotions in check as soon as possible, she could end up falling for someone she knew she shouldn’t.

[floraone]

1, 19

Yay!! Hellloooooo love ♡♡♡

1. Where do I typically get my ideas.

It’s the one thing I don’t struggle with at all: ideas. I have them. I may not always know how to all fit them it place, but I do have ideas, and love to share them. They come from anywhere really; discussions, classes, movies that excited me OR annoyed me and made me rumminate my thoughts on its what-ifs… Like, if I take Yugen for an example it obviously was playing with the theme of “what was missing in canon that I want to add, and what do I want to keep.” So I started chucking everything I found either problematic OR so perfect I couldn’t really add to it, and then I still had room to play with every headcanon I ever had or assimilated via fandom. Second in came the current political climate. I wrote a story where the world is being saved from hate itself - so I was allowed to factor in what I found is going horribly in the world as of now. It made writing it more impactful to myself.Then the details; what are they doing, what are they talking about - this draws heavily from my own experience. And while it is VERY important me that I don’t write “myself” but stay in character, it’s always easy to imagine what they would do in my place, and branch off from there. So, anything gets recycled that I experience, I mostly even don’t notice it - I read a LOT, daily. Anything from the daily online newspaper fix and other fanfiction to science fiction and lots and lots of non-fiction. I go through books like other people go through… I don’t even know. My apartment is a library. I have custom made selfmade shelfs to fit them all, even when I DO throw stuff out regularly that wasn’t a 100% to my taste. And added to that - I WATCH a lot. Mostly series that I watch together with my husband, and documentaries on anything cool. Add to that my experiences as a regular jane and a rather specific education, and I can honestly say that some or most of my ideas are probably a jumbled mess of inspiration drawn from any of these outlets without me even really realising it.

Most important, though: I KEEP all my ideas. I write lists on my phone memo pad, and if they come up elsewhere on the internet as I talk to people and bounce ideas around (brainstorming or simply being asked specifics about my plot is also SO helpful to me personally, especially to fit all my ideas into the right places), for instance, I will make screenshots. And if I talk to friends and colleagues I am known to whip out my phone as well- people are never offended when I tell them I need a minute to write down what we just talked about cause it’s so impactful to me that I don’t want to forget about it. Ideas are fleeting, and however we think we will definitely remember this stroke of genius (however idiotic it turns out to be in the end), it’ll definitely be gone if I don’t preserve it.

Now, what I’m definitely lacking tho is the TIME to put all these ideas into action. I currently have a “master-list” of fic ideas where I collect a sort of database for ideas for fics. Some of those are little more than prompts, others have 20 page scripts already. It currently spans 22 fic ideas, and most of these will most likely never see the light of day. I simply don’t have that kind of time and sadly I do need to go and earn a living, lol.

19. What’s my best advice for writing action scenes.

Again with the word “advice” - I don’t feel like this is an area where anyone can or should give “advice” - writing is highly individual, and what works for me doesn’t neccessarily have to work for anyone else. So, again, here’s simply my personal opinion and experience on what worked out for me.

Action scenes are maybe THE most difficult thing to write imo. Especially in an overall romance genre where people are here for the relationships and characters and not so much for the action. Which means, for me, that the action scenes need to be on point, and not too long, but even more impactful. So, these are steps I follow in my head, more or less consciously.

1) Cinematographic imagery. I like to go at these scenes from a ‘what would this LOOK LIKE" angle. These are superheroes, so, I go big. Energy pulses that push them soaring through skies, shattering glass, cement and asphalt breaking apart, buildings tumbling. Especially with using Rei, I tend to go big on the fire descriptions. The fire needs to cackle and crack and lick, objects she sets it to go ablaze, she can fire it like wildfire and occationally things explode. Which brings me to point two.

2. The stakes are high, the effects are big, so it wouldn’t be realistic if there weren’t injuries and casualties involved. I’m very much against glorifying violence, so it’s very important to me to also point out the costs. And those costs tend to be very graphic in my writing. Huge bloody gashes, skin sizzling away under acid, bone showing through burned and mangled skin. Which is why, when I use a big and giant epic battle scene, the aftermath will always be painful and bloody. Who turns to violence pays a price, even if it wasn’t their choice and it was always in defence. So any huge battle will always include injuries on ALL the parties. And they stick around in their healing phases in follow up scenes if they were gigantic. Even if it’s just in flinches and a hissed breath through clenched teeth as they have to move around the healing residues of it. Though luckily, Manga!Mamoru has healing powers, of course. (Tho I try use that sparsely, of course. The guy is no god. He has his limits.)

3. I tend to use a very fast paced language in action scenes. Short sentences. TRYING to refrain from my kilometer long, relative clause heavy comma sentences. Action scenes are a very reactive, sudden thing. Things happen fast and they need to react fast. No time to think or plan and just to act, and the language should reflect that. Both the aspect that describes what is actually happening and the emotive reactions to it. Which brings me to point four.

4. They are fucking scared. Even if they manage to swallow that fear and let instinct take over to go badass, underneath, I try to never forget that these are teenagers fighting monsters, risking their lifes. There will be adrenaline, and panic, and no room for very much rational thought. It all happens too fast and they are going on fight or flight auto-pilot. And this will at least partly be the case however routine or everyday the encounter has become. There will always be that moment where they could have misstepped and died a bloody death in someone’s fangs or tentacles.

Brings me to five:5. Creative monsters. In Ikigai especially I tried to write monsters that I find interresting. I used pop-culture references by using Godzilla and Mothra-like enemies, monsters from Video-games, and sometimes some from canon that I found especially interresting to tie back to canon. By using monsters that I liked, I knew what they could do. And I had fun while writing it.

6. I choose fighting styles. Usagi gets Jujutsu from me, sometimes even Aikido elements. A fighting style that uses speed instead of strength, that needs to be clever to use their opponent’s strength against them. And then I watch Youtube tutorials on these styles’ basic moves. Plus, these tutorial instructions come with very useful vocabulary for how to implement these moves into writing!And then sometimes, like in Yugen, I move from combat to magic. I had a very fun time turning those twirly 90s dance sequences into powerful fighting in Yugen. Making something so obviously “girly” the biggest asset in a battle, the biggest weapon, more powerful than any martial arts move I could give them. Girl power and all.

And, last,7. I get myself in the mood. I listen to very fast paced dramatic, epic music. Mostly the score from action movies even (like, I find the wonder woman theme song from the new films to work like MAGIC) and imagine my fast paced action sequences to it. Go through them in my head one by one. And then put that song on repeat as I write. It helps me write clipped and fast-paced, and keeps me in the dramatic tone.

So there, three cents on action ♡ Would be curious to know what YOU think works best!

[wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey]

reylo!

ship: ew / nonono / maybe / i ship it / aww / otp / MY HEART

Maria MARIA I love Reylo and I blame the exact depth of that love on your metas and your love for the ship however it unfolds.  I can say nothing here that you have not said a thousand times over in your eloquent passionate words

Reylo is beautiful to me because of the potential that ripples through every scene Rey and Kylo have together.  Right now they are enemies.  Rey is rising, rising from the wretched desert planet of Jakku, the planet she didn’t even have to be on.  I love that about her.  She didn’t have to wait on Jakku for her family to return.  She could have given up on them, could have hitched a ride as a pilot or mechanic, she could have stolen any ship and zoomed off to a much better planet.  But she stayed, waiting and hoping for love to come find her.  Fought through the hardest of times.  She fights for her friends, fights for what is right, fights fights fights, and yet is so graceful and kind and soft and beautifully innocent.  Her friendship with Finn is the sweetest thing in existence (and if for some reason I am terribly wrong and Reylo is not endgame I would be ok if Finnrey happened, I just see them as more like brother and sister?)

And then Kylo.  What a mess.  Where Rey is strong, he is broken, weak.  She loves her family and friends, would die for them, struggles to hold on to the family she never really had.  Kylo, Ben Solo, tries to cut himself off from his family, yet they come for him, still love him, want to be together.  And Kylo, torn between the call to light and love and the pressure and manipulation from Snoke–he can’t deal.  And then Rey shows up.  This girl who radiates the Force, who radiates light and fierceness and beauty.  So take Kylo’s messed up, mangled soul and shove it in front of this sun, this Rey, and he is shocked and desperately in love with this unspeakably amazing young woman.  And thenI think I lost my train of thought.  Drat.  But where I think I was heading is that Rey destroys Kylo physically and wrecks him emotionally and I think she drives him closer to the light even if he does not realize it.  

Who knows if the growing love and admiration Kylo has for Rey will be requited or not?  In my heart I hope and pray that Kylo will go through a beautiful, heart-wrenching, oft-times tragic redemption arc.  I want him to reconcile with his mom, to face the consequences of his actions, and to get a really good therapist because this young man has been groomed and manipulated and twisted by Snoke from before he was born.  I hope he seeks forgiveness from Rey for any hurt he has caused her, I hope she is compassionate towards him, I hope they train together (GOSH I HOPE SO GIMME TRAINING SCENES WITH GROWING SEXUAL TENSION AAHH), I hope Rey sees that Kylo can be soft and kind, I hope they begin to see each other as equals.  I hope Rey and Kylo explore the mysteries of the Force and become better Force-Wielders, I hope the whole Force-Bond thing is real, I DESPERATELY HOPE THEY START A GREY JEDI ORDER

ALSO LOOK THEY HAVE SUCH A HEIGHT DIFFERENCE THINK OF THE POSSIBLITY.  HUGE EX-KNIGHT OF REN WHOM EVERYONE HAS HEARD STORIES ABOUT, AND TINY FIERCE REY, TAG-TEAMING, FIGHTING IN BATTLE TOGETHER, INSEPARABLE, DEFENDING EACH OTHER.  THINK OF HOW HAPPY LEIA WOULD BE, SHE CLEARLY LIKES REY AND CAN YOU IMAGINE WHEN SHE WAS TOLD (OR SENSED) THAT REY AND KYLO LOVED EACH OTHER SHE BE SOOOO THRILLED THAT HER BELOVED, PRODIGAL SON HAS SUCH A WOMAN AS HIS WIFE.  AND HAN SOLO WILL SHOW UP AS A FORCE GHOST AND HAVE HEART-FELT CONVERSATIONS WITH THE BOTH OF THEM, HIS SON AND THE GIRL HE WAS READY TO BASICALLY ADOPT.  AND ANAKIN’S FORCE GHOST WILL BE LIKE OH THANK THE FORCE THIS TURNED OUT OK

I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS

[gigsoupmusic]

Jason & The Rex Goes In-Depth about New Video "Bullets Are Flying" - Exclusive Interview

Recently debuting with an activist video on gun violence, Jason & The Rex is stepping onto the scene with "Bullets Are Flying". A mixture of hip-hop, future-funk, and dream-pop combine to create a dense soundscape of vibrant horns, a melancholy piano lead, and strange-sounding synths. Jason's pensive, sometimes manic, flow washes over creating a dialogue on the gun violence issue in the US. Jason was kind enough to sit down and give GIGSoup the exclusive inside scoop on the creation and inspiration behind "Bullets Are Flying". https://youtu.be/g5DTa6cvfcs Tell us about writing the song "Bullets Are Flying"…. what emotions were you feeling at the time? Chaotic. Disoriented. There’s a scene in Dario Argento’s Suspiria where one of the characters falls into a pit of barbed wire. The more she tries to escape, the more she bleeds. It’s a mangled inner conflict. That’s kind of how I felt when I was writing “Bullets Are Flying.” I felt more and more entangled in a barbed wire mess of thoughts and emotions and political jabs and daily, present concerns. When the Parkland incident happened, I was already feeling very professionally and creatively stalled. I’m an actor by vocation. At the time, I was going for a lot of Chinatown thug types -- violent, gun-wielding, angry Asian dudes. I was getting rejected over and over again for projects that I didn’t really even believe in. I felt inauthentic as an artist. Music was supposed to be my outlet, but everything I created was stale and uninspired. And the worst part, I felt like I was failing as a citizen. I was -- and still am -- a reasonably privileged adult who has skills and a higher education. The gun crisis stripped teenagers of their adolescence, and those teenagers responded by standing up to the gun lobby and the politicians they controlled. What was I doing? Beating myself up because, after several attempts, I still couldn’t land a part as a stereotype on Iron Fist? Something snapped after Parkland. All the “thoughts and prayers” and familiar rallying cries came to a fever pitch, and I just started writing down…stuff. I was trying to express grief, to articulate my panic and anger, while also trying to provide commentary. I wanted to find an explanation. And someone to blame. A way out. Or a way forward. I wanted to crack the code on gun violence. I was also coming to terms with my guilt. My social posturing. My vanity in all of this. In trying to create this piece, was I turning the attention to myself? It wasn’t joyous or inspiring. It was a regurgitation of all the thoughts and feelings -- all the stuff -- I hadn’t processed.

The refrain of the song actually came to me much earlier, quite randomly. I like to think it’s because it’s more of a passive observation. Bullets are flying. Where? And why? While they fly, people are mourning. These are constants. Whereas, the two verses -- they’re snapshots of that gloomy winter morning when I was pacing back and forth on my bed trying to make sense of Parkland. It’s like I was trying to extricate myself from the gun culture and the epidemic it has created. But every thought would just pull me back into the mess. Barbed wire. Can’t help thinking about it. Gun violence. Mass shootings. I dream of ways to reshape gun culture. But, uh oh, gun culture has shaped giant parts of who I am. And I contribute back into gun culture. Not only do I love a bloody action thriller. I routinely express my love for John Wayne movies. I think the Punisher is a pretty cool anti-hero. In debating and discussing issues related to gun violence, we shout into our echo chambers while attacking opposing views. We display our alliances. We present ourselves on a side. Scoring our solidarity points is just as essential to gun culture as shooting the guns themselves. In writing this song, I was incredibly self-conscious. Was I just filling my notebook with solidarity points and quips from self-reflection? I offered my perspective on gun violence, while simultaneously reflecting and taking apart that perspective. I felt angry and powerful. But I also felt guilty and insignificant. Is saying something mostly an empty gesture? Probably. But not saying something is equally, if not more, disconcerting. Maybe this song is entirely descriptive of this emotional purgatory I create after a mass shooting like Parkland, where processing anything is just squirming in my barbed wire, while bullets are flying. What is your favorite lyric in the song? "I’m an actor, so I know how to weep. "

There are lots of hidden layers and meaning in the video… can you tell us what some of those are and why you chose to include them? I’m pretty fluid with my interpretation of the video. But most days, it goes something like this: Setting - The characters are in a place of purgatory. It’s that place I create when I’m trying to process gun violence. They may or may not know each other. Screens - On the screens, the characters stare at scenes involving their physical selves. Characters - I play the boy, and we designed the look to reflect someone in a prestigious position. On the TV’s, he’s probably a politician of some sort. I don’t think that’s who the boy is in real life, especially if the boy is me. But in this particular place of purgatory (maybe there are multiple rooms in purgatory), I’m presenting the politically active parts of myself. The dancer might be a whole separate character. She’s someone directly impacted by political leaders and their decisions. So in this place, we have a civic leader and someone he impacts. Seen this way, let’s say the boy is fried in the beginning. He’s lost his will. Been in purgatory too long. The dancer enters. Maybe she sees a party she’s currently attending in the real world. She pulls the boy out of his funk. They are actual human beings who can connect. When we hear about gun violence, our screens create abstracts of the event and the victims. But here in purgatory, the two have to make actual, physical contact. Their actions directly impact each other. Movement - There is a loose choreography. But, mainly, Ashley (the dancer) and I created a structure and improvised within it. Basically, there’s a struggle in the beginning. Japanese Butoh definitely informs the early interactions in the video, as the style can create a sense of shared grief. The movement becomes more playful and celebratory, which I think reflects another convoluted part of processing gun violence. After Parkland, I sunk into a pit of melancholy for probably no more than half a day and then I was out with my friends. We’d talk about mass shootings, but then we’d goof off, and the topic eventually recedes, until we’ve tuned it out completely (though temporarily). In the video, the TV screens are upfront and center in the beginning, but then the movement draws our attention to the characters themselves. There’s an ominous outro, where we intercut to the party-goers on the screens lying facedown on a roof. Lives lost to gun violence? In the purgatory place, we only have close-ups of the characters, many of which focus on the hands in spell-like gestures. The issue of gun violence does seem to have this elusive, enigmatic quality. So maybe whatever happens between these two in this purgatory has some ineffable effect in the world.

What do you hope fans gain as a result from watching/listening to your art? Mostly, I hope this keeps the conversation going. Like I said about the video, the topic always recedes, often because the screens start showing other things to us. As artists, I think we can keep things front and center. It’s funny. When I finished the video, I came across grandson’s “Thoughts and Prayers” single. For a whiff, I felt like my project would be redundant. But, of course, until it’s a non-issue, I say the more content we produce, the better. On a more practical note, I’m pledging all the royalties from this project towards organizations like March For Our Lives. So when people listen or watch, they are indirectly or directly (starting to really question my understanding of this concept) benefiting the cause. I think it allows listeners a little extra way to participate in reform measures. You had a hand in creating all of the aspects of the single… writing, producing, creating the video….. tell us about that process as an artist. How does it influence your work? It slows down the process by too much. No, but really, it allows complete ownership over the process, at least of the track itself. I’m entirely responsible for every aspect of it. Holding the work so precious does create a lot of room for self-doubt, but the fears of commitment also pushes for more experimentation. When I create tracks, it’s like I’m recording and re-mixing an exploration. Or maybe it’s like I’m a one-man jam band in my room. It certainly allows me to include weird ideas like recording the words “thoughts and prayers” and using that sample to create different drum sounds. You can’t really tell when you hear it, but I think it’s a fun little Easter Egg. As for the video, I came up with a structure, but this is where I wanted to open up the perspective. I’m kind of enjoying the thought that creating the track itself was like the boy in the video struck in purgatory alone. Then with the video, I’ve invited other perspectives, just as there’s now another person with the boy in purgatory. I’m a nerd, I know. But, yes, I think because I gave myself a clear foundation after working on the track, we were able to do a lot of exploring with the concept of the video, which then allows for its fluid interpretation. Fun fact: the video was originally supposed to involve a dancer and an agent of death battling over a remote that controls one single TV screen displaying a party. You've spoken about how you want your music to be a platform for activism….. what are some other issues you are passionate about? There are a lot. But I’m just going to list one here to emphasize how important it is. THE ENVIRONMENT. Tell us about your upcoming album….. what can fans expect to hear? It’s tentatively called Synthesizer or Variations of: An Endemic Cycle. The EP will have about 6or 7 songs that expand upon the narrative in “Bullets Are Flying.” Just as “Bullets Are Flying” is set in emotional purgatory, the other songs will be placed in their own settings. All the songs will fit into a narrative that has a circular structure. I’m designing musical themes that provide a through-line in the tracks. If you play the album and replay it, the narrative from the last track continues right into the first. You can start the album from any track, and the narrative will continue and circle back. I’m also creating visuals for each track. So if you were to edit them together in a specific and play it on loop, it might feel like one single never-ending movie no matter where you begin. Gun violence is so cyclical. You can enter into it at any point -- initial grief, debate, ennui, etc. --and it’ll eventually loop right back to where you started. How would you describe your musical sound? Musical genres are so bewildering to me. I guess I’ll say this: I’m sort of finding a hip-hop voice in other genres I love. They’re mainly psychedelic dream-pop, future funk, new wave, or even cinematic anime soundtracks. If my process were a scene, I’d like to imagine Childish Gambino getting really high and watching the news with Tame Impala, and maybe Jon Bellion barges in and blasts his new album. I don’t know that these are the sounds that come to mind if you were to listen to my work. But they’re certainly the sounds I’m after, sounds that provide a framework when I produce my music. Read the full article