#shell know the way and then shell say she got the map from me ill say im happy for her than ill cry myself to sleep?

[candle-wax-and-polariods]

sometimes you just have to put on nothing new and go "god damn this song is relateable" even if your favorite taylor song is infact not nothing new

[kentochronicles]

***SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 5 OF WANDAVISION***

HOLY SHITE MY MIND IS BLOWN

TOMMY AND BILLY CRYING

“Do you want me to take that again?” “Take it from the top?”

Agnes knows ! Tiger - Ralph

“Dark liquor” Vision being concerned

Billy and Tommy aged up?!

I DO NOT TRUST HAYWARD

SCARLET WITCH - TALKING ABOUT HOW WANDA DOESN’T HAVE A CODENAME

SIS STRAIGHT UP TOOK VISIONS CORPSE

HEX — HER POWERS GET REFERRED TO AS HEX POWERS SOMETIMES IN THE COMICS

CAPTAIN MARVEL REFERENCE

NORM SAYING NONE OF IT IS REAL

SPARKY THE DOG - VISION HAD A STAND ALONE AND STOLE A DOG

HER ACCENT

LAGOS

SHE DOESNT KNOW HOW ANY OF THIS STARTED IN THE FIRST PLACE

EVAN PETERS AS QUICKSILVER

DARCY GOING “SHE RECAST PIETRO?” MOOOD

X-MEN, START TO THE MULTIVERSE?!

WANDA CAN’T BE THE ONLY ONE CONTROLLING IT

IS MONICA MAD AT CAROL???

MONICA X DARCY?! WHAT A POWER COUPLE THAT WOULD BE

SIS REALLY ENDGAME - ENDGAME ENDED WITH TONY’S FUNERAL AND WANDA PROBS WENT STRAIGHT FROM THERE AND STOLE HER DEAD BF’S CORPSE (can’t really blame her, it looked like they were trying to experiment on Vis and could it be Hayward behind it?)

WHO WAS THAT ENGINEER THAT MONICA WAS GOING TO CONTACT?

BABY VISION

AND AGNES DEFINITELY KNOWS SOMETHING

DARCY FINALLY GOT HER COFFEE

SO VIS SAID THAT WANDA COULD’VE MADE EVERYTHING SUBCONSCIOUSLY AND THAT OVER TIME SHE BECAME AWARE OF IT, AND SIS DEFO HAS SOME CONTROL BUT IT’S NOT ALL HER. I THINK AGNES IS AGATHA HARKNESS AND EITHER MEPHISTO IS BEHIND IT OR IT’S NIGHTMARE AND THEY’VE MAYBE POWERED UP NIGHTMARE

***FURTHER UPDATES AND EASTER EGGS***

Auntie Agnes and Agnes saying she has a few tricks up her sleeve - we should definitely take note of that seeing as Agnes definitely has something to do with the whole situation

Wanda and Vision’s house changed again, being inspired by Family Ties, possibly Full House and Growing Pains

“Do you want me to take it from the top?” It seems as though when someone, this time Vision, steers away from the script, things either reset themselves or people become aware to some capacity, although Agnes probably already knows

Speaking of Growing Pains - It had a spin off called “Just the 10 of Us” in which the director for Wandavision, Matt Shakman, was apart of the cast - and seemingly also inspired the theme song for this week

We should definitely keep an eye on Monica and her potential for powers. With Maria last episode revealed to have gone by the name ‘Photon’ (which is a name that Monica uses as one of her aliases in the comics) and could inspire Monica’s name as she develops her powers - those scans didn’t look 100% normal. Monica has also used the Captain Marvel monicker in the comics

Wanda’s energy field and such being referred to as “Hex” short for Hexagon, could be a little nod to the comics where Wanda’s powers are sometimes called Hex powers

She’s never been referred to as the Scarlet Witch on the big screen - and it seems as though she soon may earn that code name

So we now know that Wanda stole Vision’s corpse from S.W.O.R.D, but did she actually re animate him fully? He’s still got the gem in the centre of his forehead, but the last time he had it was in Infinity War where it promptly got ripped out by Thanos - so has Wanda found her own way of reanimating him and he’s alive or is he dead and just a trick of the mind - though from other trailers/previews, Vis is seen trying to and looks successful at leaving Wanda’s barrier

They had a little call back to Captain America: Civil War with the Sokovia Accords, which were targeting the Avengers in general but were created when Wanda lost control of her powers and killed civilians

A little joke towards Vis as playing “Father Knows Best” in their little suburbia - Which was a sitcom that ran for 200 episodes in the 50’s

Sparky ! A little nod to the little green dog from the Walta and King comics run for Vision and unfortunately soon meets the same fate 💔

A little nod to Endgame when we hear from Monica that Wanda definitely could’ve taken down Thanos by herself had Thanos not rained fire - and Jimmy arguing that Captain Marvel could’ve just as easily done it - which leaves Monica with an angry look on her face

Good ol’ dial up internet

Can Vis “save” the residents of Westview? He can still seemingly interact with people’s minds, with or without the mind stone - Norm soon comes out of his trance as Vis snaps him out of it and asks to call his sister and that he has to save them all from “her” - now this “her” could be Wanda...but it could also be Agnes and then Vis shuts him down soon enough again and Norm goes back to his sit com self

Billy and Tommy are fully aware, or at least suspect Wanda’s abilities - after asking her to bring back Sparky from the dead and speaking of Billy and Tommy - could they be semi permanent fixtures in the MCU, it would help to introduce the Young Avengers eventually. They'll do Young Avengers at some point since Kang is supposed to be a thing in the third Ant-Man.

Teddy, unfortunately, I don't think will be here for a bit (I really hope he is though!). I think the guy they hired that everyone is rumoring to be Teddy might just be an episode about Billy coming to terms with his sexuality and Wanda and Vis learning to accept it in the way that era of tv they're in would go about with that kind of episode and the dude is just a dude - but again, I really hope it’s Teddy 😭

Wanda leaves the hex after a mini missile/plane tries to shoot at her - and she’s in her Scarlet Witch costume and is seemingly mostly back to her “normal self”, which includes her accent !

Lagos brand paper towels - “For when you make a mess you didn’t mean to” - a nod to Civil War again in which Wanda accidentally blew up a building in Lagos and caused the Sokovian accords to come to fruition

The mail man again - I also think he was in the commercial but anywho - “Your mom won’t let him go far” similar to “Much like she won’t let anyone leave” a potential nod to Wanda or Agnes not letting anyone leave?

“We can’t reverse death” and yet she brought Vision back - keeping in mind that he’s an android but still a little foreshadow to what happened at the end of the ep? Better yet, could Pietro coming back be a distraction for Wanda? Agnes or whoever introducing someone that Wanda lives in hopes that she won’t go full on breakdown superpowers or just to give her an attachment to Westview even more and make her not want to leave at all

“She recasted Pietro” EVAN ! I’m so pumped for this - it seems this could turn into the X-Men making their debut earlier than expected possibly? In any case, it’s a nice little Easter Egg to the previous Fox franchise of X-Men movies where Evan played Peter Maximoff “Quicksilver” alongside James McAvoy as Prof X, Hugh Jackman as Wolverine and so many others - and with Deadpool being confirmed as Disney’s first R rated film, it seems Mutants are definitely on their way to the MCU

Agnes is definitely Agatha or a gender bent Nightmare

The way Billy shed himself and Tommy up was scary - definitely a little nod to his powers coming in

Multiple different perspectives of Wanda saying that Monica left

Red Hex dialled up to around light sources (computer, window, etc.)

Vision mentions reading Charles Darwin’s The Descent of Man - which could refer to Mutants entering the MCU, Mutants being superior to humans

Agnes calls herself Auntie Agnes - in episode 2 during the title sequence in the grocery store there’s a product called ‘Auntie A’s Kitty Litter’

Agnes refers to herself as a Tiger and in the episode, there’s a Tiger on the dining table in the kitchen - could that be a listening device, her eyes and ears?

There are no other children in Westview - Billy and Tommy are immune because they have no prior trauma

Elizabeth Olsen’s photos are real and slightly altered with Sokovian flags in the background

In the birthday shot of Billy and Tommy, they have ‘1,2,3,4,5’ candles all on one cake

In the holiday photos, Vision goes from Turkey to Easter Bunny, to Santa and progressively gets more unhappy - realising he no longer wants to play along in Wanda’s Hex

During Monica’s callbacks to seeing Wanda’s pain inside her head, we see a new shot of Wanda crying - it looks like it’s around the time she stole Vision’s corpse, as the outfit she’s wearing is very similar, if not the same - could this be an after shot of when she’s trying to bring Vision back?

During the scene where we see the footage of Wanda stealing Vision’s corpse, the S.W.O.R.D logo that appears on the table has 8 stars around the rim of the logo but then has a 9th one in the middle - could this be a little Easter Egg to the nine realms of the Cosmos? And there’s also a map showing Cape Canaveral, could that be where S.W.O.R.D’s headquarters are?

Wanda and Pietro were born in 1989 to Irina and Oleg Maximoff - who were killed in an air raid when the twins were 10. In the comics, Wanda and Pietro were raised by Django and Maria Maximoff, before their true parentage was revealed as being the children of Magneto, however, in the comics this has been retconned so that Wanda and Pietro are no longer Mutants and the High Evolutionary had just disguised them as Mutants (something I think they should undo tbh - MARVEL, PLEASE MAKE WANDA AND PIETRO MUTANTS AGAIN!!!)

Speaking of the air raid, that was also referenced in Age of Ultron by Pietro and Wanda - “We were 10 years old, having dinner the four of us. And the first shell hits 2 floors below, makes a hole in the floor” - was the beeping Stark toaster be what that was referring to?

WHIH reappears for a brief cameo as the news service in the MCU - and Hayward cuts off Jimmy as he was trying to defend Wanda’s reputation, in which Jimmy then turns to Darcy and says “I try not to speak ill of people” Darcy then follows up with “Then allow me, Hayward’s a-“ and then she’s cut off by a shot back to Hayward saying the word “Terrorist” which would make sense as it seems with Vision’s corpse, he may have been trying to make sentient weapons and by subverting Vision’s will and blaming Wanda of doing the same. In the footage shown of Wanda stealing Vision’s remains, we see Vision broken up into parts and S.W.O.R.D seems to be experimenting on him and this seems to be the robotics/nanotech project that Hayward was referring to. Monica asks Hayward about the footage saying “When was this?” to which Hayward replies saying “9 days ago. Maximoff stormed our facility, stole Vision’s body and resurrected him” - this would mean that Wanda took Vision 2 weeks after the events of Endgame, about a week before Monica returned to S.W.O.R.D and Hayward didn’t tell her any of this and when he sent her in there, he knew exactly what he was doing - with her reputation after Civil War, this makes it easier for Hayward to paint her as the villain.

Back in Westview, Tommy wears red and Billy wears green - which are the colours that Wiccan and Speed wear in the comics, respectively. And it’s also the colours that Wanda and Vision are known for and appears quite a lot in their wardrobes

More in regards to Sparky, he was the synthezoid dog in Tom King’s run of Vision - the story being that he was originally a dog named Zeke who unfortunately passed away after digging up the Grim Reaper’s corpse and getting zapped. The Grim Reaper’s helmet appears during the title sequence of Episode 2 in the floorboards. Could Sparky have been trying to dig up a similar thing when he was caught by Agnes and consequently killed?

Monica mentions that she knows this aerospace engineer, they’re never shown but she is seen texting them. Could it be Reed Richards a.k.a Mr Fantastic? Hayward did mention that some astronauts used to work for S.W.O.R.D before a mission went haywire - though it seems a bit lacklustre to introduce such highly anticipated characters this way. Could it instead be the Skrull daughter of Talos that Monica befriended at the end of Captain Marvel? She mentioned that they had extraterrestrial allies in episode 4 working with her and Fury as apart of S.W.O.R.D - in the Spanish subtitles they use the feminine articles for this engineer - so I think it’s more likely to be Talos’s daughter

The board that we saw in Episode 4 now includes the mailman, drivers license and all - could he be Jimmy’s missing witness?

The tension in the room after Jimmy references Carol is similarly seen when in Spider-Man: Far From Home, where Peter asks Skrull Fury/Talos “How about Captain Marvel?” To which Talos replies “Don’t involve her name”. Fury, Monica and Talos were all on the side of the Skrulls by then end of Captain Marvel and the space station that Fury was on maybe apart of S.W.O.R.D. So did Carol betray them?

A slight reference to Captain America: The First Avenger is made when Monica pulls a Peggy Carter and shoots at something to see if it’s bulletproof, in Peggy’s case it was the iconic Captain America shield and in the case of Monica, it was her clothes that she was wearing after Wanda threw her out of the Hex

Abilash (Norm) never states that Wanda is the one that Vision has to save them from, it’s just “her” - could this instead be Agnes?

When Billy is training Sparky to sit, he puts the treat by his ear up to his temple - a future reference that Billy will one day share the same powers as his mum?

During the scene in which Wanda leaves the Hex briefly, she turns the guns onto Hayward but none are trained on Monica - she may still trust Monica slightly, whereas with Hayward, she slightly more pissed off because of what he was doing to Vision’s remains. And turning a bunch of guns on the people you don’t trust? Like father, like daughter as Magneto pulls a similar move in one of the X-Men films - Hopefully, the big cameo they keep teasing will be Ian McKellan as Magneto or the Magnus of this House of M adaptation

During when Agnes “found” Sparky, she says he died from eating too many leaves from her plants - in the Tom King Vision run, one of Vision’s kids ends up killing Sparky and sees inside his stomach that there’s a plant that Agatha Harkness grows in her garden

All the names that appear during the credits that Wanda tries to run to end the show and to stop Vision from talking are names of people who work on the actual Wandavision show itself

When Evan Peter’s version of Quicksilver shows up, he says “Does a long lost bro get to squeeze his sister to death or what?” I DO NOT TRUST THIS PIETRO - Similar to Wandavision, the Fox X-Men movies moved up decade by decade - First Class was in the 1960s, Days of Future Past was in the 1970s, Apocalypse was in the 1980s and Dark Phoenix was in the 1990’s - which would make even more sense as MCU! Pietro wasn’t born until 1989, whereas Peter was active during the 1980s. I reckon that this Pietro is Jimmy’s missing witness, Agnes’s husband Ralph and is disguising itself as a comforting presence to Wanda as Vision no longer brings comfort and is trying to bring Wanda back to reality - and when he shows up, the mirror in the background behind Wanda is slightly distorted but his hand looks red and in the shot as well, there seems to be a grey arm reaching towards Pietro - in the shot itself behind and in front of Wanda, there’s nothing there but in the mirror, there is! Either way, I do not trust this Pietro and it’s just an entity trying to give Wanda the last thing that could make her happy - but it won’t last, as everything is already breaking down around her.

I seriously seriously love this show so much 💙

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH51

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 51: Purgatory Reunion (III) {cw: misgendering}

When he saw the oasis in the boundless yellow sand, Qi Leren shouted excitedly: "Look, there’s the oasis!"

The local guide smiled and said, "Yes, that's it. Go on, and you can reach a small nearby tribe in an hour. It's not far from the Underground Ant City."

These words inspired the tired Qi Leren. He rode his camel to this oasis, scooped up spring water, and washed his face. Only then did he feel that the heat covering his body had dissipated.

The Illusionist also jumped down from a camel, filled his water bag with the water, and then drank it.

Qi Leren glanced at his camel and found that it had picked up a piece of white paper from the water and chewed it up like a fresh vegetable. Qi Leren curiously grabbed this piece of paper from the camel's mouth, which was about to be dissolved away. The words and patterns on it had already been soaked and could not be identified.

It was just a blur, as if something had been drawn on it.

The soaked paper melted in his hand and broke into several soggy pieces. The camel picked up the paper from the ground and continued to chew it. Qi Leren sighed helplessly, took the camel's rope, and pulled it toward the Illusionist who had been calling for him to keep up.

The three walked on, and the local who was familiar with the desert talked more about the end of the journey, and chatted with the two travelers who had paid a lot of money to ask him to lead the way. From the local’s mouth, Qi Leren had a new understanding of the present situation in the Underground Ant City.

"The Dragon Ant Queen recently returned to health? Didn't she say that she had been seriously ill before?" Qi Leren recalled the contents of the data and asked curiously.

"She’s beginning to return to the light," the local said. "Every queen is like this, and this state can last for about a month, during which a new queen will be born. During this time, the situation in the Underground Ant City will be very chaotic. Demons flock from all over the world. The demon tide will be particularly turbulent this month. You must be careful."

Qi Leren knew about the demon tide, and that there would be such a catastrophe every month in the Underground Ant City. There was no rationality in this group, and it wasn't known where it came from. Terrible creatures gushed out from the rift, attacking the residents of the Underground Ant City crazily, but the Underground Ant City’s field couldn't isolate this group of creatures, so they could only fight with this group of creatures month after month.

The three walked the whole way, and the yellow sand finally turned into a desert. At dusk, the vast field of vision was only a wasteland, which made Qi Leren who had never been in a desert before feel deep emotion.

He was walking towards him along Ning Zhou's path, and every step was closer to him. He would find him, and that day wasn’t far off.

"Ahead is the Valentine tribe, where you can rest your feet. They’re very polite to outsiders," the guide said.

Qi Leren thought his words were a little strange, so he couldn't help but ask, "What about you? Aren’t you going?"

"Me? Forget it. I'm afraid they won't welcome me, and neither will our tribe. They’re foreign and different from us locals. We’ve never intermarried for generations and have no relation to them." The guide pursed his lips disdainfully. "You can buy some food there. If you don't need it, let's just go."

The Valentine tribe, Qi Leren remembered this name. Ning Zhou had mentioned being here in his letter. He had lost his camel in a storm and came to the Valentine tribe alone...

He hadn't said more, but even if it was just a name, it made him want to stay.

"Forget it, we’re short on time. Let's go directly to the Underground Ant City," Qi Leren said.

So the three walked on, crossed the neighbouring wind-eroded hill, and when they stood on the hill, Qi Leren looked down on the Valentine tribe in the distance. On the desert in the sunset, the Valentine tribe was quiet, as if it were deserted.

The Illusionist suddenly stopped.

"What's the matter?" Qi Leren asked.

"It’s dinner time, but there’s no smoke." The Illusionist squinted slightly and looked toward the distant tribe. "No one’s active either. I'm afraid something happened to that tribe."

Qi Leren's experience wasn’t as rich as that of the Illusionist. Just now, he hadn't thought of this question at all: "What happened?"

"Come on, let's go and have a look," the Illusionist said.

The three people walked down the hill and came toward the Valentine tribe. The closer they got, the more obvious the strange situation became. When they came to the village entrance, the scene before them made all three people fall into silence.

This tragedy was not human, but a hell on earth. There were gnawed bodies everywhere, and dried blood all over the ground. Carrion birds were startled by their approach and flew away reluctantly from the incomplete rotting bodies, landing on the wooden fence outside the tents, and watching them with malicious eyes.

The frightened guide covered his mouth with both hands and prayed repeatedly. The Illusionist and Qi Leren searched around the village, but they didn't see a single living person. The elders, children, men, and women had all become unrecognizable bodies. The sheep inside the fence were all dead, and only a little bloody wool was left.

It turned out that the quiet little tribe in the sunset was already a graveyard with only corpses left.

The horror here made Qi Leren almost afraid to stare at the corpses too carefully, and his heart was very heavy. He knew that such a tragedy occurred almost every day in the Nightmare World, but he couldn't let go of the horror after witnessing the slaughter of a tribe that existed only days ago.

"Such a large-scale death is unlike the demons. The demons usually won’t massacre an entire village unless they’re a low-level irrational devil, but such demons won’t be so destructive. It was probably the demon tide. When the monthly demon tide in the underground ant city ends, there will be many demons running to the surface to plunder nearby tribes. They’re like a group of beasts. They devour like locusts everywhere, more ferocious than regular demons," the Illusionist said.

"What should we do with the bodies?" Qi Leren asked with difficulty, nauseated by the sight of the bloodied mouths.

"There’s nothing to do. If this happens outside the Sea of Tranquility, the nearby Holy See parish may send people to investigate the situation and clean up the bodies, but here... This is the territory of the Dragon Ant Queen." Standing in the wind, the Illusionist looked back at the desert village that had turned blood red beneath the setting sun and said softly, "Let the sand bury them here."

"Could there be survivors?" Qi Leren asked.

"I don't know, maybe there is. But an ordinary person, even if they escape to the Underground Ant City, may not be able to live a good life... Let's go, we should set off." The Illusionist had already mounted a camel and urged Qi Leren.

Qi Leren looked at the dried blood that had already seeped into the sand beneath his feet, and his deep sadness and melancholy welled up in his heart, so that he could no longer speak.

The camel looked at him meekly and pressed its nose against his cheek. Qi Leren's eyes were slightly wet, and he leaned over and hugged the camel's thick neck.

"Let's go." Qi Leren also mounted the camel and walked towards the distant Underground Ant City.

　　&&&

The entrance of the Underground Ant City was shaped like a crater, but there was no magma under the crater, but a huge hole, which was 500 meters deep. It was impossible to climb into the hole, so it was necessary to parachute. In a deep darkness, the bottom of the cave illuminated by fluorescent plants on the rock walls was an underground lake. It was said that the water in it has existed for millions of years and that the water quality was pure, and there were also phosphorescent fish inside.

This cave was called the Dragon's Breath Cave, and the source of its name could no longer be tested, but what was certain was that there was no legendary creature like a dragon in it, but rather it was full of bats.

The guide split up with them at the mouth of the cave, and the Illusionist and Qi Leren jumped into the underground lake. After climbing up, they handed the parachute equipment to the masked men who were responsible for returning them to the surface, and took a boat to the shore.

The underground world was very different from the world on the surface. Qi Leren, who was here for the first time, looked at the surrounding environment curiously. There weren’t many light sources here, little more than the fluorescent plants on the walls. If his eyesight hadn’t improved a lot after he’d broken his shell, he would be very pitiful in this dark environment.

"What if it’s too dark for someone to see clearly?" Qi Leren asked, "Can you use an oil lamp or a torch?"

The Illusionist said with an amused smile, "Of course, but if you have to hold a torch and tell others, 'I am a weak chicken,' don't blame others for coming up to provoke you. There’s no Court here to maintain order."

Along the underground passage, Qi Leren judged his own position while comparing the map. He had a good sense of direction, but he didn't know the difference between the southeast and the northwest after circling in the dark. In the end, the Illusionist who was familiar with this place took shortcuts. He grabbed the map while holding his hair, and quarreled with Qi Leren about their route.

The Illusionist insisted that as an old hand who had been to the Underground Ant City many times, he could not get lost, while Qi Leren retorted that they had just walked through the same place three times.

At last, the Illusionist became angry and offered the famous "You can do whatever you want". Qi Leren was not polite to him. He pulled him along for ten minutes and walked back to the main road smoothly.

This headbutting incident caused the Illusionist to say nothing for the rest of their journey. After arriving in the Underground Ant City’s downtown area, the illusionist spoke in a weak and weary voice as though he was ill, saying that he would take Qi Leren to find a place where they could stay.

Qi Leren was in a hurry to find Ning Zhou, and didn’t refute. Under the Illusionist’s introduction, he met Celia, the Court’s contact person stationed in the city. The Trial Court’s contact person, who was stationed in the Underground Ant City all year round, gave him a lot of help, and he got the required information. He rushed in the direction of Purgatory day and night...

On the 28th day after the task of the Holy Nun, Qi Leren arrived in Purgatory, which triggered the second step of the mission.

At this time, Purgatory was under emergency martial law. The whole area was blocked and no passage was allowed.

-----

The author has something to say:

PS: Many settings for the Underground Ant City refer to some remote tribes and natural landscapes on Earth. The ancient lake is from the first episode of the BBC documentary Africa; The inspiration for the entrance cave to the Underground Ant City is the Cave of Swallows in Mexico; The inspiration for the Dragon Ant Queen is honeypot ants from BBC’s Power of Life documentary and Natural World: Empire of the Desert Ants. I'll write down the other parts I remember, but I have a poor memory and forget some documentaries after watching them.

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[allycryz]

"Are you okay" for the morning after starters for Thancred x Haurchefant x Nerys :D

Okay! This one is set after they all get back from the First, the morning after the first time Haurchefant, Thancred, and Nerys sleep since the boys got their bodies back. T for implied sex Some angst, some out of body feelings, talks of past injuries and scars, food talk

He looks at his hand when he cracks the egg.

The scar from Amh Araeng is gone. His first “official” mission as the Exra-as G’raha’s emissary brought him to those scorching sands, Mord Souq, and an ill-fated encounter on his way. His body on the First had carried over every scar from the Source, every ache, every twinge when he pushed his shoulder too hard. 

It would make no sense for him to carry the physical changes back. But just as he can feel the two years gone from his bones, he feels the phantom of the new scars. Here should be a mostly healed knife-cut. There should be lingering aches from the spectral heroes and their burning limbs, the pure energy that jumped from their weapons into his skin. 

Here, the burn scar from potent aether when Emet-Selch fired a warning shot over his shoulder. It grazed his cheek, leaving a faint red mark that only just began fading. Alisaie and Alphinaud were collapsed and if the man had thought Haurchefant would let him be after that, would be warned off after that-

He did not kill them. Or any of us. Haurchefant had not known the Ascian as the others had. But he had a fair assessment of why even after they witnessed the fall of Amaurot and yet defied him...he stayed his hand. Why he spared them until the last moment.

He looks up. The egg is overcooking, he’d not even thought to add salt and pepper, and the shells are still in his hand. He flips it over and puts it on a plate for himself to eat, covered liberally in hot sauce. No use in wasting food–he would make sure to pay attention with the rest. 

Some better attempts later, he brings the loaded tray back to Nerys’ room. Haurchefant sets it down to ease the door open and discovers her sitting up, staring down at Thancred with rapt attention. Her hand hovering a few inches above the man’s arm.

She looks at him. He smiles at her and nudges a chair in place to hold the door while he comes in with the tray. Nerys’ hand still hangs in the air, drops slightly as if to touch Thancred, curls into a fist and tucks away in her lap. The same hesitation they’d distracted her from last night. 

Nerys rises and joins him in the little nook where he begins pouring tea for them and coffee for Thancred. Her gaze also goes to his hand, to the second finger that should have a burn scar upon it. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, very quiet.

“I’m okay.” She wraps her arms about the loose silk robe she has donned. “Tea will set me to rights.”

“Say the word and I will provide all the tea you could ask for.” He sets the teapot down and curls his hands about her shoulders. Kisses her until she relaxes and kisses him back. “I will not break, my heart.”

“I know.” She bends her head to press her face to his shoulder. 

“We have been fully cleared by Krile,” he continues. Her body tenses with frustration–at herself, he thinks. Perhaps a little at him. “Forgive me, I do not mean to be condescending.”

“I know. I know. You’re not, you’re assuring me.” Nerys kisses him, careful and soft. “Despite all my fears, I did not break you two last night.”

“Were I a naughty man, I would suggest we keep at it until you’re convinced of our fitness.”

Her laugh is a breath. “But you are not a naughty man.”

“Never.” He smiles at her. There is still a displaced feeling, being in this body. The one he’d had when he was summoned to the First. Before two years of life and adventure molded it into something new, something now lost.

This body had never known Thancred until last night, though their souls had connected several times in the last moons of their adventures. It was terribly romantic to him, performing with their bodies what their souls had done on the First. His body had not held both Nerys and Thancred in his arms as they slept. Still does not know other pleasures he found on the First.

Teaching this body what his soul already knows–makes up somewhat for the loss of memories mapped onto skin. 

Thancred crawls out of the bed and towards them, making a grabby motion at the coffeepot. Haurchefant seizes the hand out of the air and kisses the fingertips, the palm, the wrist. Moves his mouth down the tan arm. A gunblade requires promoting different muscles than the daggers but his arms are just as toned, if in a different way. Krile had worked wonders to preserve their muscle mass and all else in their sleep.

“Coffee,” Thancred grumbles. 

“Not yet.” Nerys says, and she hesitates only a moment more before wrapping her arms about him. Burying her face into his hair and the back of his neck. Haurchefant sees the way his sleepy eyes go soft, the sigh he lets out. If he was eavesdropping, Haurchefant may have to scold him.

“Not yet,” says Haurchefant, wrapping them both in his arms. Holding them to his heart. 

The beat is the same.

[so-i-dont-forget-again]

So I Don’t Forget Again: A Breath of The Wild fanfiction

Entry 101: Toruma Dunes

 Before going to bed, Chief Riju and I took a trip to the spa. It was absolutely amazing. I was so relaxed my mind just kind of faded? My right arm was a little sensitive, and was very tense according to the… Spa ladies? Masseuses? I’m not sure what they’re called. The spa is attached to an inn so right after the massage I was given a room to stay in for the night. With my body so relaxed I actually fell asleep.

While I was sleeping, I had a dream. I think it may had been a memory. We were watching the courtyard from high above. A Sheikah was demonstrating some of the guardian’s functions to some knights. My heart leapt in my throat despite it not doing anything. Just walking around. The princess eagerly watched. She spoke of how it was incredible how we could now control them and added that it shouldn’t be long till we know everything about them. When she spoke, she was interrupted by the King. He asked in a demanding voice what she was doing here. His face was stern unlike now that he’s a spirit. The princess spoke of how useful learning about the ancient technology would be for driving back the Calamity. Once again, she was interrupted by the King. He said he already knew that and elaborated on how as princess there was a duty she had yet to fulfill, gaining her spiritual powers. He told her to stop treating that as some game to which she retorted back saying that she was already trying her best. She spoke of how she prayed tirelessly at the spring of courage. Once more she was interrupted. He said she was wasting her time. She needed to unlock her power and dedicate her time to nothing else. She said she was, there was nothing more she could do. She wanted to now focus on the technology since it was something she could do, but the king said that she is the only one with the power that can seal the calamity away, it was paramount that she finally unlock it. He then decreed that she have nothing to do with the technology anymore and commanded that she focus on her training. He then spoke of rumors that were being spread about. About how she is the heir to nothing but failure. She had to prove them wrong or else there would be nothing at all. I believe having read so much about her trying and failing caused this to resurface.

When I woke up Bossa Nova had his head resting on my chest. I wanted to get up, but he was just too cute, I couldn’t wake him! Once he did, I went looking around the bazaar for something he could eat. There wasn’t that much vegetation for him to just graze on whenever he wanted. I got him a Hyromelon since they also have lots of water in them so in a way, I’d be making sure he got something to drink as well. Even with it’s hard outer shell he scarfed down the whole thing right away. He must have been very hungry. I apologized by getting him another one. I tried hugging him, but he knocked me over, laid on top on me and kept rubbing the top of his muzzle on my face.

I went to The Noble Canteen for a Noble Pursuit but the woman behind the counter said that I looked much too young for that drink. Then the person behind me said that I’m much older than I look. It was Calisa! After getting our drinks and some mushroom risotto we sat in the lounge area and ate. I thanked her for vouching for me, but she said that the least the Gerudo could do for the person who saved them was let them have a good meal.

It was really nice chatting with her. We talked about traveling for a bit before we started talking about the town. Since it had been so long since she was last here, it felt brand new to her. I asked her if she had ever taken the cooking or wooing classes. She told me that every Gerudo takes those classes. A saying around here is that the best way to get to a person’s heart is through their stomach. It’s but one way of wooing a person. She regaled me with her early days where she first set off out of the town searching to get caught up in a whirlwind of a romance and passion. That she did find, not in a voe, but exploration. Before then she had never even set foot out of the town. Then suddenly she was thrust out into the world only armed with what she had learned back home. She spoke of her many failed romances. The wooing classes did help, but she felt that if anything it was more so of a class about how to interact with someone even with the culture shock of them not being raised Gerudo. Though she did add that the classes may have changed over time.

She then told me of a communal kitchen area where anyone one could cook anything they wanted and said that she could teach me recipes which are good to know for travelers. After getting a stone pot and ingredients we made many dishes, like chilly simmered fruit, mushroom risottos, curry rice, omelets, and some clam chowders. It was so fun learning from her. I told her about my time in the Sheikah Village and how I wound up learning from Koko. I should go back so I can teach her what Calisa taught me. It’ll be so much fun!

Calisa wondered what we were going to do with so much food. In the end I ate all of it. She commented on my appetite. I told her how I never get hungry or full. I just eat when I need to heal and not much else happens, though… now that I’ve eaten more dishes, I forgot how delicious food can be. And cooking in of itself is so fun! I think I’ll eat something at night when Bossa Nova is asleep. Though the smell of the food may wake him. I guess I’ll just have to figure it out when we leave here.

As I was dinning, we overheard a conversation between a woman with a guard. She had found the man of her dreams and soon after getting married he fell terribly ill. The only thing that could cure him is a certain medicine, the medicine is made from the innards of a molduga a giant and mighty fish/worm like creature which burrows through the sand. She wanted help killing one but none of the guards are to leave the town. The Yiga had been acting extremely aggressive since their leader was killed and they didn’t want to risk any of them getting in.

Sidon better make it home safely. And the Gerudo women with him hopefully are safe too.

I didn’t notice myself until Calisa placed a hand on my shoulder. She told me that before I go running off into the desert, I should protect my skin. She found an alovera plant and snapped a piece off and told me to rub the goopy inside on my exposed skin to protect it from the sun.

Bossa nova and I ran around for a while searching. When we noticed the wind picking up, we started heading back to town but before we knew it, we were surrounded by a sandstorm! I would have used the Sheikah Slate’s map, but it wouldn’t do anything. The side that showed the map and the frozen time images was just blank and no matter what I did it wouldn’t do anything. Bossa Nova buried his paws into the ground, and I held on to him. This way we at least weren’t being tossed around by the wind as much.

When the wind died down we were finally able to see. The Sheikah Slate was working again, so we made our way back to town, but as we did so the ground began to quake. The sand next to us began to pick up. It then leaped out and when it came crashing back down it almost swallowed us whole! Thankfully I was quick to draw my bow and shot it in that maw with a bomb arrow. I had Bossa Nova keep running as I shot at the thing. I decided to try shooting it when it was in the sand. It didn’t get hit but I think I discovered something. I think it senses vibrations on the ground. When I shot a bomb arrow into the distance moments after it exploded on the ground the creature leaped up there. After using up most of my bomb arrows the creature was finally felled. Using the Sheikah Slate I found it was the molduga we’d been searching for!

After taking out it’s innards I found it hard to leave. Unlike the moblins and bokoblins who’s bodies turn to smoke upon death this creature’s corps just laid atop the sand. It felt like such a waste to just leave it there.

I gave the items to the woman and she was so thankful. She was instant on giving me three hundred rupees. Calisa approached me asking why I looked odd. I told her about the molduga. She then stared at me for a moment before saying I certainly hadn’t traveled for long, but I had the soul of a traveler. She had us take her to the body.

She had me make a fire and taught me how to figure out what meat on an animal is salvageable and how to turn the meat into jerky. As for the scales and fins we could use them to make cloaks to protect Bossa Nova and myself from sandstorms and other elements. She told me that I could bring the bones to Death Mountain and have the Gorons reforge my weapons with the bone to make them more durable and stronger. If I couldn’t do that then the bone still could be used to make arrowheads. As we were making the jerky some Yiga attacked. Working together we were able to fend them off. She said I was more of a warrior than a traveler, then asked why I’m traveling. I told her everything about saving the champion’s spirits including the princess’, finally defeating the Calamity… about fulfilling my duty as her guard. I hadn’t realized it till talking with her, but I don’t think of this as my duty anymore. I just want too. I want to learn more about my past, who I used to be, who I knew, and I want to learn about this present, it’s future, the people here now, and who I can be.

With so much meat it took a while to make it all into jerky. There was still more meat even late into the night. Calisa left to sleep in the town while Bossa Nova and I are still out here. Bossa Nova doesn’t care for the heat, but he seems to resist the cold well. Perhaps it’s because he’s lived in Zora’s Domain. The water can be freezing there at night.

Maybe Sidon is there now? Deep in those waters, those little spots and his fins so gently glowing. Maybe he’s writing me another letter saying he’s alright, of battles he and the Gerudo had against the Yiga and were victorious.

I miss him. And with Bossa Nova nearby I miss Friend.

The day was alright, fun even, so why do I feel so alone now? I hate this.

First Page , Previous Page , Next Page 

[megalony]

Fatal attraction- Part 2

This is my new royal! Ben Hardy series I am working on which I hope everyone is going to enjoy, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog​

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) are in an arranged marriage to form an alliance and they both want to make this marriage work. But when they have to get to know each other and there is a power play in their marriage, things aren’t going to be easy.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh no, you don't have to do that, I'll do that." The words came out slightly rushed like (Y/n) was trying to win a race or put her order in first before anyone else. The way her cheeks flushed when she spoke and how she was quick to step away from the window and try to hurry but still look composed made Ben bite the inside of his cheek as he watched her, wondering what she was doing.

(Y/n) punctured her teeth into her lower lip in a feeble attempt to stop her eyes from wandering over to the left to catch sight of Ben, but the more she tried not to look, the more desperate her eyes became to drift over his way. When her wide orbs fell on his frame, an uproar of butterflies started to flutter through her stomach and chest.

How did he have the boldness and the brass nerve to stand there and get changed whilst there was someone other than (Y/n) in the room? How could he carry on dragging his rather tight fitting trousers up his legs and begin doing up his belt whilst a maid had entered the room? If it had been (Y/n) stood in her underwear when someone else entered the room she would have been running to hide away but he didn't even blink or look like it bothered him at all.

What bothered (Y/n) more than her husband's bold nature was the fact that three servants had already been in and out of their shared quarters and it wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning yet. (Y/n) may have been brought up in a royal household such as this but her anxiety never died down through the years. People wandering in and out never settled well with her despite them simply doing their jobs and now she was married it made her beyond paranoid.

What if she and Ben grew to become closer than married strangers? What if they joked around or messed around or were childish or got frisky and someone were to hear or walk in? (Y/n) would hate for anyone to wander in and catch her and Ben in a compromising position, she would never be able to look them in the eye again.

Reaching the rather large bed a few feet from the window, (Y/n) leaned over the bed and pulled the covers from the maid's hands as nicely as she could manage.

Needless to say, the maid was quite taken aback that (Y/n) was telling her not to make the bed, which was part of her job. (Y/n) could make a bed herself, she could set the pillows straight and pull the covers up just fine, she could tuck in the ends of the sheets if they were loose and make it look presentable. (Y/n) could iron her own clothes and hang them away, she could dress herself and make her own chambers look presentable without someone needing to waltz in and do that for her. She was privileged but she was not incompetent or ignorant.

"It's not a problem ma'am, I can do it." The maid whose name (Y/n) didn't know yet had a gentle smile that looked motherly and endearing and the look in her eyes suggested she understood, or at least she thought she understood something.

"I- I appreciate it, but I can make my own bed, there's no need for you to do that. I'm sure you have other things to do around here." (Y/n) tried her best not to sound rude or patronising because she wasn't trying to be mean, she was just trying to maintain some control and order. She didn't want everything done for her, (Y/n) didn't know how things had been for Ben but for herself, she did a lot of things herself.

"If you're sure, ma'am." Taking a step back, the maid clasped her hands together in front of her and nodded her head as if trusting (Y/n) to make the bed which wasn't an important task in anyone's eyes.

"Thank you... um, could you see to it that no one comes in every morning to make the bed, or draw the curtains? No one has to tidy up in here or try to put the clothes away, I can do all of that myself." (Y/n) looked down at the cover as she started to pull it up and drape it over the pillows once she straightened them out in their place. (Y/n) noticed over the past three days that Ben ended up scattering the pillows everywhere, he seemed to drag them with him whenever he moved or turned over.

She also realised that Ben had quite taken to wrapping himself around her like a vine and smothering her at night, not that she was really complaining at all. (Y/n) had never shared a bed with someone before and as much as she hadn't imagined it going like this, she was finding that she quite liked the closeness.

"Certainly ma'am." With that the maid left the room, a slightly confused expression on her face because she wasn't expecting that. She would have to tell all the staff so no one ended up going in their room in the morning by mistake. This wasn't how anyone else in the royal family did things.

"You're blushing."

Ben's comment snapped (Y/n) out of her thoughts and it only caused the redness to deepen on her features and her head to tilt down so she wasn't looking at him. Her hands froze in place on the cover when Ben's hands grazed over her own to help straighten the cover.

"Doesn't it bother you, having people wandering in and out every morning?" (Y/n) slowly tilted her head up until her eyes could see Ben through her lashes that were acting as a veil to protect her. There was a look of vulnerability and curiousness in her eyes and on her face that seemed to reel Ben in like a fish on a hook.

"It used to, but it looks like that won't be happening anymore." The slight curve of his lips showed he wasn't mad, he didn't seem displeased or pleased, he looked rather neutral about the subject as if it didn't affect him at all that (Y/n) had just dismissed the staff from entering their room in the mornings.

"I just... why do we need someone to open the curtains in the morning? I can make the bed, I think we are both capable of pulling a curtain back and tidying things away or hanging up clothes. What if we were ill or just wanted a lie in for once?" Why was it necessary for them to do hardly anything at all? They weren't special, they were just people and (Y/n) couldn't stand people doing everything for her, it made her feel like she was incapable or not in control.

(Y/n) lifted her head when the bed was made and Ben started to move, her eyes followed him as he walked around the bed until he was standing next to her but continued to stay silent. For a moment, she thought he was just going to walk away and not even comment on what she was saying. But then he leaned closer to her until his lips were brushing against the shell of her ear.

"Now I think you're just trying to keep me in bed all to yourself."

The moment those words were whispered against the shell of her ear, shivers ran down (Y/n)'s spine and a smile she could only describe as cheeky fell onto Ben's features before he started to walk away.

(Y/n) was trying to piece together who Ben was and work out what he was like but the only thing she had deduced over these past three days was that he was very, very cocky.

Turning around, (Y/n) tried to settle her heart that was beginning to beat a lot quicker behind its confinement of her ribs. She didn't need to read anything into what he had just said, he was teasing her because it was part of who he was. But nevertheless, his words made her chest feel like it was pumped with air and it made her blood rush to her skin. Trying to steady herself and walk slowly instead of hurrying to keep up with Ben, she followed him out of their bedroom and into the smaller adjoining room in front that was more of an office than anything else.

Staying quiet, (Y/n) slowly walked over to the desk that was placed just a few feet from the large window that gave a view of the gardens that (Y/n) was desperate to explore. The sight the palace gave was certainly a very eye catching one, it was far better than any of the views (Y/n) had seen from the palace she lived in when she was growing up.

Leaning her weight back, (Y/n) sat on the desk and held onto the edge but she kept her gaze focused on the view she knew she would never quite get used to seeing every day.

"I think I'm going to take a walk today." (Y/n) knew she didn't have to tell Ben where she was going or where she would be every second of the day, but she still thought she would tell him what she was planning to do today. It would strike up a conversation in the least and she knew Ben must know some places around here he could recommend for her to go and visit.

"Okay, there will be someone about downstairs who can escort you." Ben let his eyes lower from looking at (Y/n) to looking at the clasp of the watch he was trying to strap to his wrist. His eyes switched between the watch and the papers on the desk he was also trying to read quickly so he knew what kind of meeting he would be walking into soon.

"Hmm? Oh, I don't need anyone to show me around, I'll be fine I shouldn't be going too far." (Y/n) didn't bother to look over at Ben and she wasn't being rude, she was forming a map of the grounds in her head and the perimeters she was going to go beyond. There was so much she wanted to see, there were so many gardens of the palace that (Y/n) wanted to explore but today she wanted to explore the outskirts of the palace.

She wanted to see what it was like outside of the palace perimeters and observe the people and the streets and houses and businesses. She had seen very little when travelling here and most of her time was either spent in the palace or at the church to get married. She had been here for a week now and she felt it was time to do some exploring. (Y/n) would rather explore on her own than have someone show her around.

"No, I meant a guard, you can't go out on your own. Just find two of them downstairs and they'll head out with you. Go wherever you want and they'll follow silently." Ben held his wrist up so he could push the clasp of the watch in place before he lowered his arm and reached out for one of the papers. His tone wasn't dismissive but he was talking like there was just a small miscommunication between them.

Ben knew there would be a few guards without anything to do, (Y/n) could just find anyone she liked and ask them to go with her and they wouldn't object. She needn't know they were even with her, it would be like two shadows following behind her.

Turning her head to look at Ben, (Y/n) felt her brows furrowing and her lips pursing as she pushed herself off of the desk she was sitting on. She didn't want a guard, she wasn't in danger. No one was making threats towards her and no one was going to suddenly attack her, she wasn't going to stray too far or get too close to anyone, she was only going to explore her new homeland.

Biting her cheek to stop herself from arguing with him, (Y/n) curtly nodded her head, resting her hand on his shoulder for a few seconds before she started to walk away. He wouldn't know straight away if she went out alone and (Y/n) certainly wasn't going to tell him that it was her intention to do so.

She didn't need to be supervised everywhere she went.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where have you been?"

Turning her head to look back over her shoulder, (Y/n) rose her brow at the rather crude tone of his voice. She didn't have to inform him of every movement she made during the day and he had no need to sound so rude towards her. She had gone out like she was permitted to do, she hadn't broken any rules by leaving.

"I told you this morning, I was going out for a walk to explore." Turning her head back so she was looking at the bookcase in front of her, (Y/n) scanned through the various novels to try and find something worth reading.

"And I told you that you can't go out on your own. That's not me deciding that rule for you, that's a rule I have to go along with as well you can't just ignore it." It was clear by the way Ben was suppressing the aggression in his tone that he was trying very hard not to get angry but he couldn't help it. He hadn't said that just to try and spite (Y/n) or to gain control over her, no one in the Royal family could go out on their own because it was dangerous.

"Ben, I don't need to be followed everywhere, I was perfectly fine on my own today." (Y/n) spoke calmly because this was not an argument she wanted to have or one she saw worth having. But the look on her husband's face told her that it was too late. Ben's expression was really making (Y/n) feel like she had done something wrong, he was looking at her like she had just told him she was walking to the moon.

"You're not being serious, are you?"

"Why not? I'm not the Queen and no one knows me here, they've barely seen my face in any wedding photos. I understand you're trying to be cautious but I don't need-" The people barely knew what (Y/n) looked like and she had guessed this morning that they weren't going to recognise her. All (Y/n) had done was walk out of the palace grounds and head down near to the town, she didn't get close to anyone and when she did she had turned around and made her way back again.

(Y/n) didn't want constant eyes on her because it made her unsettled, she knew Ben was cautious and it was for protection but she didn't need it. When she was growing up she had made sure she had some time alone and that she could go on walks without any guards having to follow her, (Y/n) wanted things to be the same here too.

"Why not? You're married to the King, that's a pretty big reason not to go out alone (Y/n). Whether you like it or not you're a royal and you're high priority, walking around this place alone isn't an option and people know you left, they saw you. Surely back home you never went out alone, you're the princess for God's sake." Ben didn't know how things worked back home before (Y/n) came here but he knew how things happened in his country. She couldn't go anywhere alone, not even in the palace that was now her home.

Shaking her head, (Y/n) grated her teeth together before she tried to walk out of the room. But she didn't get very far before Ben's hand reached out and gripped her upper arm to stop her from walking past him. His head turned to the side so their gazes locked and when (Y/n) tried to pull away, he held her tighter.

"I know this is hard and it's not what you want, but you can't go around acting like you're nobody when you're somebody. People will recognise you wherever you go, protection is a necessity."

"It's only a necessity when you give the people cause to pose harm to you." (Y/n) hadn't done anything, she hadn't been here long enough to give the people anything to make the mad at her except marrying Ben. People started to attack when they felt they weren't being treated equally or when someone of the Royal family did something stupid or rash or wrong. (Y/n) had done nothing of the sort.

Pulling her arm away, (Y/n) tried again to walk away from Ben but he simply moved so he was stood in front of her. He didn't like leaving arguments unfinished, he wanted to sort this out now rather than pick up the pieces later.

(Y/n) felt like part of her was being childish because she knew why she had to be protected. Protection had been a part of her whole life, but for once, (Y/n) wished she didn't need it. She wished she could be normal, that she could be a nobody and have a decision in what she did and how her life went.

"I know privacy and normality matter to you, but your protection matters to me. Next time you decide to wander off without a guard, come and find me. At least that way I can go with you."

When Ben finished speaking he moved out of the way to let (Y/n) walk past but she found herself rooted to the spot, her eyes unable to look away from him as she tried to decipher if he was being serious or not. He was willing to let her go out without a guard if she would let him go with her instead. Ben would rather go along with (Y/n) than have her go somewhere alone.

But that wasn't what he said that was catching on (Y/n)'s thoughts. He said that her protection matters to him, he wants to keep her safe.

Did that mean that he cares about her?

[keiththespacekitty]

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

Trans Klance fic.

Tw: dysphoria, fear of rejection, Lance deadnames himself because he feels comfortable to do so.

It had been in his head for a while now- ever since it happened. Keith wasn't the type to get anxious, so the ball in the pit of his stomach was unfamiliar to him. He was pacing around, going for jogs around the castle, punching a punchbag, anything he could to satisfy his fight or flight response long enough to manage to put down some food without nausea rearing its ugly head. The words kept repeating over and over in his head- however benign they may have been, they still filled him with panic. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

It wasn't aimed at him- it was aimed at Pidge. But the idea that she'd kept her agab disclosed and had explicitly been using he/him pronouns, and still was seen as a girl, made Keith feel like everything was futile. The years of confusion and self discovery and finally gaining the confidence to start identifying as he truly felt- they all felt unravelled with that single sentence. It didn't matter who he was or what he did or how he felt. She, she, she. It was like a mantra in Keith's head, a constant intrusive misgendering. 

Keith felt sick and trapped. He felt like everybody was waiting for him to reveal he was a girl- that no matter what, that's how they would always see him, like it would have been easier to give up on himself. He didn't want to give up his identity. He was trapped in space and trapped in an awkward void of identity versus perceived identity.

He avoided everyone for the next few days. He couldn't bare it. Couldn't bare knowing everyone saw him as strikingly female. That no matter how much he would bind, no matter how many times he'd stabbed himself with a needle, no matter how much he let some stubble grow or how deep his voice was, all people would see him as was a walking womb- because that's exactly how the world saw women. He was a feminist- of course he was. He wasn't transitioning because he thought ill of womanhood- he was doing it because womanhood simply wasn't his to grow into and he loved himself enough to be honest about his identity. 

He knew that people found that hard to understand. He knew people found it hard to accept. He knew that everyone saw him differently, that everyone was waiting to bombard him with personal questions about what's in his pants, if he's had "the surgery" (which one? There's loads), how people like him have sex or kids. Everyone was always waiting like vultures to cross his boundaries and ask him questions and chastise him for "mutilating" his body and "ruining" his beauty and his chances at love. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

Keith couldn't get the words out of his head. 

And they weren't even aimed at him.

Pathetic. He thought of himself as pathetic. Lying in his bed with his face pressed into his pillow fighting back tears. This wasn't just pain. This was existential pain. This was his entire identity and he felt like his world was crumbling away. He knew who he was, and he was screaming out, but it wasn't right, his body wasn't right, the way people saw him wasn't right, because it didn't match. It didn't feel like his. Objectively he knew his body was great. It would be amazing on someone else. Except it wasn't on someone else. It was on him and his skin was crawling and writhing with the ghosts of expectations and the tendrils of dysphoria and incongruence that gripped him tightly and made a home under his skin. 

He read the Map Woman. Sure, the poem was about a woman, about her origins staying with her, but he could relate. He could relate to feeling like your past was branding you, he could relate to the urge to cover and shed it, but he also knew that it shaped him, painted him- his past was a part of him that he couldn't erase and it was important that he make peace with who he was and where he comes from in order for his skin to settle. He knew that his journey was important, and it was home- his past and his future didn't need to be at odds. They weren't two parallel lives- they were a map of who he was, the experiences that shaped him and his identity- his past and his present would shape his future, where new valleys and roads would embed themselves onto him. His past would remain deep within his bones so that his future could thrive beneath his skin. The old gives way to the new. Identity was a tower. You couldn't take away the deep roots of your past without the top collapsing down. His past, his pain, his journey- was important to him. Even if painful, it was significant because of that pain. He couldn't erase where he came from, when it led him to where he was now. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

Yes.

It was as simple as yes.

Yes, they were supposed to think he was a boy, because he was a boy, and only he got to decide his gender. They didn't get to force him into a box that wasn't his to sit in. 

He was allowed to put his foot down. He was allowed to set boundaries. Of course, he understood that people were allowed to be curious and confused, but he was still allowed to define his own identity and have it respected. He was allowed to fight for himself.

It was scary. 

Gods, it was so scary. But Keith knew that if he wanted to control his identity, he had to face the source of his insecurity. He had to leave his room.

He found himself on the training deck first- fight or flight, to quell the anxiety. He knew he'd be alone, so he could train safely without his binder trying to suffocate him for his stupidity. He managed to get in a good hour or so of training, before letting his feet carry him to the one place he knew everyone would be- at lunch.

He knew that lunch was the best time to rejoin the group. Hunk would immediately greet him with a "welcome back, buddy," and an extra large helping of food goo, and he could focus on eating and keep his head down and over the next few meals Hunk would gently coax him out of his shell and encourage others to engage too until it was no longer awkward. Hunk was good at understanding Keith's anxiety. 

So Keith did his best to work through the deep churning feeling, the unsettling writhing in his gut when the tendrils of anxiety gripped him tight and settled there. He walked in, and avoided eye contact, and sat down at the table. But Hunk didn't welcome him back in a casual tone.

"Keith?"

"Hunk."

Hunk gently set his food in front of him. "I saved you the best bits," he said, but he lingered.

"What?"

"Keith, buddy, we're all worried about you."

"I'm fine," Keith said, but he immediately regretted it. No, he was not fine, and he was screaming out for help inside, trapped behind the prison of his fear. 

"Keith, we both know that was a lie here. This isn't you."

"Isolating myself isn't me?"

"Well I mean- fair point. But we all know something's wrong, Keith. And it's okay if you aren't ready to trust us with what yet, but if there's anything that we can do to help or support you through this, we want to know. We're here for you."

The words swirled around in his mind again. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

He couldn't push them away.

"I need you to-... remind me who I am, again," Keith forced out quickly, "I need you to tell me how you see me. I just… I need to know."

"Keith," Hunk began firmly, "what's going on?"

"Nothing, I just-" Keith sighed awkwardly. He wanted to say, he needed to. But his fear stopped him. He sat there, tense, trying to keep his breathing steady and trying to push down the lump in his throat. Keith didn't cry. Not like this. Not for himself. Never for himself. Especially- especially not in front of a crowd.

"Keith, buddy?" Lance was looking at him in a way Keith couldn't recognise- at least, not on Lance's face. Lance looked like he hadn't slept out of concern. Keith had never seen him like this before. He felt guilty for causing it.

"It's just- it's hard," Keith managed. Of course, Lance's face lit up with mischief- he'd always try to lighten the mood.

"It's hard, huh, am I that attractive that my mere presence-"

"I'M NOT SOME GIRL YOU CAN FLIRT WITH, LANCE!"

Keith regretted snapping almost immediately. Lance was shocked, scared even, and Keith hadn't even realised he'd stood up and balled his fists. Lance finally began to stammer out an apology. "I- I'm sorry, I- I won't-"

"Look, I get that you might not wanna be flirted with," Pidge began firmly, "but maybe you could have worded that better."

"I'm not a girl, I'm not like you," Keith practically growled out. He realised too late why Pidge seemed angry- it wasn't because they thought he was a girl. It was because they didn't know. They didn't know he was trans. And Lance was flirting with him anyways. And it sounded like Keith was implying that Lance should only flirt with girls.

"If you don't wanna be flirted with, that's fine, we understand, but if you have a problem with Lance liking guys then get out of my sight!"

"Pidge, that isn't what I-"

The words haunted him yet again. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

But this time Keith felt ready to confront them. 

"Pidge, I'm not-"

"Not what?!"

"I'm not homophobic. I- I reacted the way I did because-"

"Because why?"

"Because I didn't realise Lance was gay. So I thought he was flirting with me because he saw me as a girl."

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Pidge countered. 

The fear gripped Keith again. He was afraid of hearing those words again. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

But he needed to scream out his truth.

"I'm trans." Keith was met with silence. "That's what I meant by I'm not like you. And that's what I meant when I snapped at Lance. Because I thought he saw me as a girl. And- that's why I've been hiding in my room, since… since you revealed your agab. Because- because Coran said- 'We were supposed to think you were a boy?'. Like- you- you hadn't given us your deadname, Pidge, you hadn't- you hadn't stopped using he/him pronouns. You were outwardly identifying as fully male. And yes, you aren't, and it really was just a disguise for you, so it probably didn't hurt you to be told you weren't very convincing as a boy."

Keith glanced around the room. They were silent, but it seemed to be because they were genuinely listening. 

"But it hurt me," Keith continued, "because it felt like those words applied to me too. That- everyone somehow knew, and that everyone was secretly seeing me as female. That people felt like I was just faking it. That in everyone's heads was 'oh that weird girl still thinks we see her as a boy'. That everyone could see right through me. That everyone saw me as a ruse, and an unconvincing one at that. And I'm not. I'm not- I'm not like you, Pidge. I'm not pretending to be a guy to sneak into school. It doesn't fill me with relief to hear people knew how I was born like it did with you. I'm trans. And I'm scared. I'm scared because my agab follows me around and I feel like I can't escape it. I felt like you all saw me as a girl, like you were all waiting for me to come clean. And I couldn't stand it anymore, so… yeah."

He looked around the room again.

"You were supposed to think I was a boy."

Keith finally took a deep breath, attempting to relax his body, but it immediately clenched up again. He felt so stupid. He must have been passing excellently and now he'd just outed himself and now they really would think he was a girl. He took a shaky breath, fighting the tears. He didn't want to cry, not like this. He froze up when Lance stood too.

"Keith, buddy…"

Keith forced out a breath that was threatening to spill tears, but the breath came out all too fast and all too shaky. 

"I'm sorry I made you so uncomfortable with my flirting. I guess I- I never felt a need to come out. I mean I know you've seen me flirting with Allura and Nyma and… a lot of alien chicks, but I'm actually bi. I didn't realise that you didn't know I was flirting with you because I'm actually bi and into dudes too. I didn't know that you thought I only liked girls and that you'd think I saw you as a girl, otherwise I would have clarified. I've just always been open about it, you know? I haven't exactly tried to hide it, I just genuinely thought that everybody already knew. And I know that it isn't my fault, before you say that, I know you don't blame me and I know I'm not at fault. I'm just apologising for the way you got hurt."

"Why would you even flirt with me," Keith asked brokenly, "why now?"

"I've kinda been flirting with you since the garrison, Keith," Lance began awkwardly. Keith heard a crunch- Pidge had fucking popcorn for this. 

"I didn't know you at the garrison-"

"Taylor."

"What?"

"You remember Taylor, right?"

"I mean yeah, she was always behind me in class with some stupid rivalr- ooohhhh."

"I started transitioning just after you left. So everyone here already knows I'm trans and knows my deadname. I assumed you did too. When I met you again I kinda assumed you'd recognise me so I brought up our rivalry and my name in the hope you'd like. Not call me my deadname not realising I was a guy. Then you didn't recognise me so a part of me was really glad but the other part was kinda disappointed. So yeah… I'm also trans and I may have a teensy crush on you."

"You have a what now?"

"I mean I'm kinda relieved you're trans too because like I was scared that- well I'm sure you understand the fear of dating as a trans person with the whole people seeing you as your agab thing or the very very tiny possibility of someone being attracted to you-"

"Lance."

"What?"

"You said you have a crush on me."

"I very suddenly have training to do-"

Keith grabbed Lance's arm before he could leave, and Lance flamed bright red. Keith wasn't one to confront his feelings, at all, but he was upfront and he wanted answers. "Lance."

"Okay, fine, yes, I happen to think you're very attractive and somehow I like your dumb personality too! I've been trying to flirt with you but you're oblivious and I'm scared and I know you're Keith and you don't feel things other than 'Keith smash face with sword' so I know you don't feel the same about a nobody like me-"

"Shut up, Lance!" Lance immediately shut up. "I don't mean like- don't talk about your feelings. I do want to listen to you and address these insecurities. But I need you to be quiet and I need you to push those aside for a moment because I need you to be direct with me here. When you say you have a crush on me, do you mean from a distance, or do you mean you'd pursue a relationship with me if you thought you had a chance?"

"My answer depends on if- on a scale of one to ten; one being a stab in the face and ten being decapitating me and slicing me into cat food sized chunks, how violently will you stab me if I say yes to the second one?"

"Lance…" Keith sighed, and lowered his hand on Lance's arm until he was holding his hand gently. He didn't know what to say- but Keith was impulsive and brash, so he didn't- he grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him as hard as he could. He would have regretted it if he didn't know Lance felt the same way. When he pulled back, Lance was puce across his cheekbones and to the tips of his ears. Keith only registered where he was when he heard the crunch of popcorn from Pidge. And then Keith turned scarlet. 

He was suddenly very aware of his surroundings and the audience, and very aware of the fact he'd just kissed Lance. "Gross," Keith protested, "do it again."

"Kiss me yourself you lazy quiznack," Lance protested. 

"Well I'm not kissing you again until you kiss me first!"

"Fine! Well I'm not kissing you until you kiss me, whoever caves first owes the other a week of laundry and I haven't done my laundry since we first arrived here!"

"That's gross, Lance," Keith said, "and you're on. I haven't done my laundry in a month." 

"Oh quiznack, you guys are gonna be so annoying," Pidge sighed. 

"Can we eat now that's all sorted," Hunk asked awkwardly, "because the sooner we eat the sooner I can bake like- a huge cake to celebrate you guys-"

"Hunk, no," Pidge sighed. 

"Hunk yes, because love is beautiful and love deserves good food to commemorate it- hey where'd Lance and Keith go?" That was the last thing Keith heard from the kitchen as he pulled Lance towards the training deck.

The words repeated one more time in his head.

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

Except this time, they didn't bother him. 

[tmariea]

New Constellations (ch 2)

Chapter 2 of my ATLA Big Bang piece!!

Read Chapter 1 here

Chapter summary:  Turns out, even after Zuko's lost his ship, navigation skills still come in handy. The myths just might come in handy too. After all, there's more than one type of finding your way.

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

Zuko hated everything about traveling as a fugitive in the Earth Kingdom, and having parted from Uncle made it even worse, although he’d never say it aloud.  He hated the plants that were all different from back home and made his head feel like it was full to bursting.  He hated that there wasn’t much food to forage for, and wasn’t much left after the winter and the army’s requisitions (stealing) to buy.

He hated the nights too; they weren’t mild like back home, but downright cold.  Worst of all, as the landscape grew more arid the further he traveled, and it only got colder at night despite the warm days.  While his breath of fire could manage the cold, it left him with a weariness sunk deep into his bones.

Uncle was probably sitting close to a nice, crackling fire, making tea.  Hopefully not with anything that could kill him this time, because Zuko just couldn’t always be there to tell him not to drink tea made of strange plants.  Unlike Zuko, Uncle Iroh had always been a proper firebender; he’d had no unnatural pull toward the nighttime.

This time, Zuko had little choice.  Traveling by the stars was the only way he knew how to navigate in this unknown place.  He had no compass or astrolabe, not even charcoal or good paper to write on for his calculations.  As much as he hated to admit it, the only thing he had left to his name were Zhu Yan’s stories and a map he had haggled with his last coin like his life depended on it.  He hardly even trusted the map.

For days now, Zuko had been heading northwest towards Ba Sing Se, ever since he left Lee’s village.  He knew that the Avatar needed to find an earthbending master next, and what better place to find one than the capital city of the Earth Kingdom?  Even if Zuko didn’t trust the map completely, the city was so large that, if it was even close to accurate, he wouldn’t miss it.

There was a desert in the way, though, and if Zuko couldn’t find enough provisions to last him the crossing, he’d never make it.  He looked up at the sky with a sigh, wishing the constellation stories had some more concrete answers to them, like “what to do when you are a broke, exiled Fire Nation Prince chasing the Avatar with several hundred miles of sand in your way?”  Instead of magical solutions written in the stars, he caught sight of the Lion Turtle constellation.

Zuko could almost hear Zhu Yan’s voice in his head telling the story: they were great islands that swam across every sea.  They swam until mortals no longer needed them to provide a safe home.  Some settled down, growing tired and weary and stony in their old age, and became the first stationary islands.  Some, though, were too young and restless, too eager to keep exploring, and those lion turtles swam off the edge of the world and into the sky.

“The world is round,” Zuko had told him flatly. “There is no edge.”

Zhu Yan had chuckled, lamented Zuko’s inability to simply enjoy a story, and then said, “The Lion Turtle is a tricky constellation.  Be careful when you choose to follow it—it’s been known to lead you where you need to go, but not always where you want to go.”

Zuko had scoffed at that, too.  While constellations weren’t static, he had learned well that they followed set patterns in the sky, by the night and the month and the season.  He knew all the calculations, knew that you could use a map and your instruments to know exactly where you would end up by following one constellation or another.  And yet tonight, with his head as empty of ideas as his stomach was of food, it felt as if there was hardly anything left but to chase a spirit tale.

Zuko closed his left eye so he could trace the curve of the strong, individual stars that made the Lion Turtle’s shell, the small cluster at its head, and the fuzz of tiny, far away lights just above its back that almost looked like an island forest obscured by morning fog.  He pulled on the ostrich-horse’s reins and turned her in a new direction.

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

Zuko could feel the heat forming behind his eyes as he stormed away from the prison tower.  He hadn’t wanted Uncle to tell him he had another potential destiny as the descendant of an Avatar.  Now, more than ever, he felt torn between home and the position in his father’s regard he’d fought so hard to gain, and the part of him that had seen the wider world and found his old views childish and wanting.

Once he’d reached a reasonable distance from the building that he wouldn’t be easily spotted, Zuko found a flat spot obscured by an outcropping of stone and began to pace.  Everything about him was restless and wound tight these days.  Being home was supposed to be a relief, but it hadn’t felt anything like that at all.

The story about Sozin and Roku that Zuko had found had not been helpful.  Uncle had not been helpful.  He couldn’t ask Mai about any of this; she was loyal to Azula, and he couldn’t ask her to deal with his insecurities.  What prince of the Fire Nation, heir to the throne, doubts his country and his people?

He hadn’t heard that sneering voice in his head in a long time; not since he was first on his ship, frightened and set an impossible mission.  

Thinking of those early days on the ship reminded him of one other person in his life who had been a teacher.  Zhu Yan loved stories and history and tradition; maybe he would have some kind of insight.  Zuko pushed down a cringe of guilt that he hadn’t sought any of his original crew members from before the explosion, other than knowing that Zhao had requisitioned them to other ships for the ill-fated Invasion of the North.  The navy kept good records, he should be able to find that information easily now.

Zuko turned and headed towards the edge of the caldera instead of back to the palace.  The naval headquarters were down the other side of the mountain, near the shore.  His status should be enough to entitle him to the name and route of the ship Zhu Yan was stationed on.  Then he could send a hawk explaining his troubles and maybe get some real advice.  He chose not to acknowledge the fact that Zhu Yan had been just as known to answer a question with a cryptic story as Uncle was to do with a cryptic proverb.

He crested the lip of the stone formation and started down the switchbacks along the cliffside, pleased at the exertion after so many days of palanquin rides.  The crunch of his footsteps found a rhythm with the rush of the waves further in the distance and the gulls calling overhead.

It was even easy enough to walk around once Zuko reached the military base.  Wearing the nondescript clothing he usually did to visit the prison tower, he didn’t draw attention like he would in his royal robes.  Sailors were businesslike, and they had better things to do than to try to see the face under his hood when the guards had already let him through the gate.

Zuko made his way towards the building where naval records would be kept, and lowered his hood as he approached the door.  The man standing guard looked surprised to see him, but bowed and allowed him to pass.  Inside was a small open space between rows and rows of shelves, with another officer at a writing desk who stood as Zuko entered.

“Prince Zuko,” the man said, showing no reaction to the sudden appearance of a member of the royal family at his desk as he bowed.  “I am Corporal Iwao. How can I be of service?”

“Corporal, I am searching for a particular naval officer and the name of the ship he is currently serving on. A Lieutenant Zhu Yan.  He was stationed with the fleet under Commander Zhao at the North Pole, last I was aware.”  Zuko did his best to keep his disdain for Zhao off of his face.

“One moment, your highness,” Corporal Iwao told him and disappeared into the shelves with a bow.

He was gone for so long that by the time he returned, Zuko was sure he had memorized every inch of the small front area.  Corporal Iwao was carrying a large scroll which he set out on the desk and began to unroll.  Zuko tried to read the title at the top, hoping it would be the name of a ship he recognized.  The bottom dropped out of his stomach as he recognized the characters for “casualties.”

The man studiously ran his finger down the list until he reached the name ‘Zhu Yan – deceased’ so that Zuko could see for himself.  There were other characters which followed, detailing the campaign and date of death, but Zuko’s mind couldn’t absorb any of it.  

“My apologies your highness, but the officer in question was killed in action during the Siege of the North.  Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

“No, thank you,” Zuko said.  He couldn’t feel the words on his lips, could hardly hear them as he spoke.

The walk back to the palace was one step and one step and one step, on and on, with hardly a thread of memory to connect each to the one before it.  Zuko pushed open doors and barely registered the pressure against his skin, heard the bustle around him as if he was underwater.  When he reached the hallway to his room, there was someone waiting for him just outside the door.  He knew he should be upset about it, but trying to reach for the emotion only opened a yawning hole in its place.

“Zuzu, there you are!  I was starting to get worried.  Where have you been?” Azula said ‘worried’ like it was foreign word, and her expression was disinterested as she examined her nails.

This wasn’t the first time that Zuko just stared at his sister, unsure how to handle what this next game of hers would be.  He didn’t even have space for normal thought, much less what it would take to keep up.  

“I went for a walk,” he finally said.

“Fairly long walk.  Someone less trusting than me might not believe that.”

He didn’t feel anything as she spoke.  Not even the parts of him that were always afraid of her.  “Please go.”

“Is it so wrong to let my brother know that I care?” she asked, and then finally looked up.  There must have been something in Zuko’s face that Azula wasn’t expecting, because surprise slipped out from beneath her perfect porcelain mask.  Zuko could count the number of times he’d seen that happen on one hand, and if he had any capacity for it he would feel rather pleased with himself.

Azula examined him for a moment more and Zuko let her, standing still, feeling like the ability to even move was an ocean away.  Finally, she let out a frustrated huff and turned to leave.

Zuko pushed open the final door, had only enough presence of mind to lock it behind him, and sank down onto his bed facing the open window.  As the sun traveled across the sky, and shadows grew longer and then overtook the world, Zuko stayed in one place, only silence in his mind.

The next time he moved was out to his balcony after night had fallen.  The air was heavy with humidity and heat, almost nothing like the cool sea breezes from the nights that he practiced navigation with Zhu Yan on deck.  Zuko sat with his back to the railing, arms around his knees, and that is when the tears came.  Silent and slow and unending, until every star above his head bled into one.

Zhu Yan had loved the Fire Nation.  But in all the time Zuko had known him, he had never spoken about loving the war.  He couldn’t remember either, if he had ever asked.  But without anyone ever asking, and in fact against all Zuko’s protests, he had always shared how much he loved the fires in the sky, and stories that had been thought inconsequential for generations.

He had died for another man’s vanity.  Zuko had seen first-hand the aftermath at the North Pole.  There had been nothing gained there, no greatness the Fire Nation brought with them to bestow on the rest of the world.

He’d never hear Zhu Yan tell a story again.

How many other battlefields had been the same?  He knew so many people now, too, with voices they would always miss.  Would it be easier to count which battlefields had not left behind such pointless loss?

He’d never see Zhu Yan smile for something so small as when Zuko would listen without complaint.

Zuko thought back on the history he had read, of how even the start of the war had been for pride and had left friends lost in its wake.

He’d never again stand together with Zhu Yan on a deck beneath the stars while the world stretched wide before them.  Never get the chance to voice that he had started to hope that someday the world could look so wondrous to him too.

He wondered if perhaps that was his answer.

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

When Zuko left the Fire Nation palace after the Day of Black Sun, he was far more prepared than when he had left Uncle behind on the edges of the desert.  Tucked away in the basket of his war balloon, he had plenty of rations, as well as an astrolabe, maps and star charts that he had lifted from the palace.  Of the things Zuko had stolen in his life, these were marked firmly in the ‘do not regret’ category.

After a few hours of following the Avatar and his party at a safe distance, Zuko had a pretty good idea of where they were headed.  Which was a good thing because by sunset his slower balloon had fallen considerably behind.  He lost sight of them just after the last light left the sky.

Zuko checked that the fire in the furnace was still burning steadily and dug his navigation tools from his packs.  There wasn’t much space to lay out a map in the bottom of the basket, but he made do as best as he could and crouched in the tiny amount of space that was left to start plotting a course towards the Western Air Temple.

It was ironic, Zuko thought, that the constellation which he followed tonight, the one who would lead him west, back to the first air temple he’d ever set foot in, was Siming.  The stories described them as softly beautiful spirit, who lived in the golden clouds at sunset and gathered every drifting soul into their arms as the day came to a close and sheltered them until dawn when they would prepare to enter into life anew.  Their constellation resembled a coiled fishing net.  Zuko had never touched a fishing net in real life, or one woven by the spirits.  If he chose to believe the stories, Zhu Yan had touched the net from the legend now.

Zuko took a long breath in, felt his fire rise up in his chest and released another blast of it into the furnace that was keeping him aloft.  He did not know if this is truly what happened after death, that every lost soul was scooped into a fishing net in the sky at sunset.  But Zhu Yan had believed, so for tonight at least Zuko chose to believe that his mentor had gotten one brief night to rest among the constellations that he had loved.

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

The sun was setting over the Western Air Temple.  Dusk always made Zuko feel just a bit hazy, like he wanted to go curl up and savor the last patch of light like a pygmy-puma, and it had slowed Aang’s firebending energy significantly.  They had just finished practice for the day and were sitting on a ledge of the temple, legs dangling down into open air, to watch the sunset.

Aang kicked his legs idly, languid little bits of breeze trailing off of his feet and making the mists below swirl.  “Hey, this is probably a bit of a sensitive question, so feel free to not answer, but how did you do it?  You know, keep firebending after...?”

“After what?” Zuko asked.

Aang wouldn’t meet his eyes, but waved a hand in the direction of his scar. Zuko’s back tensed and he drew in a breath to yell – He was a firebender, the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, how could he do any less?   How could Aang imply he was so dishonorable as to turn his back on his bending, on his nation and heritage, on the brilliant light they were tasked to bring to the rest of the world? – And let the breath back out, sat on the impulse like Uncle was always telling him to do.  Asked himself if those were his own thoughts, or just Ozai’s thoughts left in his head.

Which was probably even more the heart of what Uncle had wanted him to do.  Zuko sent up a silent prayer to the spirits to let him tell Uncle someday that he was sorry for learning the lesson too late.

He said to Aang, “Work, lots of it.  And not the kind of work you do by practicing firebending forms, but the kind of work that takes telling your heart over and over again that it doesn’t need to be afraid, even when it wants to be.”

“Wow,” Aang replied, “that’s pretty anticlimactic.  Sounds like you just had to have a lot of patience.” He had a mock frown on his face that Zuko had learned meant good-natured teasing.  So Zuko only elbowed him a little in the side while Aang dissolved into laughter.

“I have tons of patience! But, if you want something a little more exciting, just wait.”

“Okay. Whatever you say, Sifu Hotman.”

Zuko spared him an exaggerated eye roll as he turned back to watch the sun dip below the horizon and the sky grow steadily darker. Behind them he could hear the sounds of someone starting a fire and beginning to cook dinner, and some faint conversation. Beside him Aang was doing his level best to prove that he had plenty of patience, and only fidgeted a little.

Finally, when enough stars had come out, Zuko gestured overhead and said, “Every star up there is Agni’s brothers and sisters and siblings.  The whole sky is full of fire, fire that we can’t touch or feel.  But when we use the fire that Agni grants us, it’s as if we’re just a bit closer.”

“Wow,” Aang breathed out, looking suitably impressed.

“A good friend taught me all of the stories he knew.  Would you like to hear them?”

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

Thank you all so much for reading!! And make sure to check out @cianidix ‘s fabulous artwork if you haven’t already!!!

[weaverlings]

more than the dust that we can return

listen...... siblings. i have strong emotions about them all.

*

Summary: The kingdom, free of infection, is open to the knights and their sister in all its ill-fated vastness. That leaves them with a difficult choice: where to make their home?

The little Ghost has an idea.

Content warning for death/corpses and description of THK's injuries

AO3

*

When the Hollow Knight was well enough to travel a little ways, Hornet led her siblings out of the Mantis Village at last. They only went as far as the hot spring in the crossroads. From there, the rest of Hallownest would be open to them.    

Hornet sat on the side, dipping her legs in while the little Ghost and the Hollow Knight soaked. The little Ghost splashed at her, but she drew away. She was in no mood for playing, and was grateful that they seemed to catch onto this. She needed to think. She kicked in the spring absently, and then caught herself with a hand on her knee.

Their hosts had been gracious, allowing them to stay so long. Perhaps they could return, and stay a little longer. Perhaps she could find some way to contribute, to earn their keep. But no. Better not to impose further.

She pushed herself out of the water, and walked to the edge of the cliff. From this vantage, she looked down into the crossroads.

The rest of Hallownest was open to them, in all its ill-fated vastness.  

But where would be safe? What did safety look like for the knights? Most threats they could handle, but she knew nothing about what they required for food, if anything, and Hallownest could hardly meet the needs of ordinary bugs as it was.

The kingdom was also less dangerous now, and that presented its own concerns. Not even the infection had kept scavengers away. These sorts would think nothing of the wild creatures and crumbling structures that remained to challenge them. Someone would find them soon enough, and the Hollow Knight had caused a stir even among the proud mantises. The knights needed safety, and she suspected that would mean privacy.

She turned at the sound of sloshing, and then footsteps behind her. The little Ghost stopped when she faced them, and tilted their head to one side. They were still dripping, but evidently didn't mind. The Hollow Knight waited at their back.

Hornet asked them, "You are well enough to travel?"

The little Ghost nodded.

Hornet said, at last, what had so absorbed her attention. "You will need a place to stay."

The Ghost joined her at the edge of the cliff. They stared down, too, their gaze seeming vacant. They must have drawn some conclusion, however, because they soon spun around, their little cloak flaring. They beckoned both of their siblings close, and pulled out a map.

The Hollow Knight crouched down on one side of the Ghost, and Hornet leaned over their other shoulder. The Ghost pointed to a spot high in the cliffs above Dirtmouth. They had marked a stagway station there.

Hornet frowned at the map. She had little experience with the stagways. They had not lasted long after her childhood, and she preferred other means of transport. She'd only realized a stag remained recently, after she'd observed the little Ghost with him. It wasn't any surprise that there was a faraway station she didn't know, but she couldn't imagine how this would solve their problem.

Better to ask. "You wish to go there? To stay there?"

They nodded.

She had no better ideas. There were plenty of nooks and crannies where the knights could settle in the short term, and they could always move again, if all else failed.

"To the stagway, then." She looked to the Hollow Knight. "If that is agreeable to you, as well?"

The Hollow Knight did respond, in a sense. They had been still before, but now they seemed to stifle the air around them, as if they could bid it to mask their own awareness.

She pressed gently, "If we are to travel together, I'd rather we are in agreement."

The Ghost reached up and patted the Hollow Knight's arm. They finally nodded, once and slightly.

Hornet accepted this. "Then come. We will find out together what the little Ghost wants to show us."

The trip to the station was easy enough. The Ghost rang the bell with their nail, and the sound echoed down the tunnel until it was lost under the pounding of the stag's approach. He stopped before the platform with only a grunted greeting for his favorite, only traveler.

Then he saw Hornet.

"And who have you brought, little one? Oh, it will be good to-"

And then his gaze slid up and up and up, sometimes startling when he still did not see a face where he expected one. He found the Hollow Knight's serrated mask, and spent the rest of his breath in one rush.

He said finally, "Who have you brought?"

Hornet folded her arms under her cloak. Her fingers tapped her upper arm pensively, hidden there. Safety, which means privacy.            

The Ghost simply pointed first at themself, then at the Hollow Knight, and last at Hornet. Three to travel.

Hornet stepped up to their side, and said, "We are their siblings. We wish to travel with you - the little one knows where."

The stag huffed again, and inclined their head. "I'm sorry. I had no idea the little one had family. A remarkable lot, you must be. I've never met their like in all my days."

Hornet laughed. It was not precisely happy. It existed a step to the left from real mirth.

The stag eyed her, but must not have judged her too harshly, because he said, "The stagways are open to all. Come aboard."

So maybe he did judge her, and the Hollow Knight, too. But not in defiance of duty. That was enough for her.

The Hollow Knight climbed carefully into the back seat, tucking their sharp limbs close to their body. Hornet settled in the front.

The stag asked, "Where to, then, little one?"

The Ghost pointed out the station they had shown their siblings.

Another grunt. "You trust your family, don't you?"

They nodded. That was all it took. He said, "Hop on, now. It's not a long journey from here - even on these old legs."

The Ghost climbed on. Hornet shifted so that they could share the seat, and turned back to the Hollow Knight. Before she could ask them if they were ready, the stag was galloping into the tunnels.

*

Hornet and the Hollow Knight followed the Ghost deeper into the stag nest. They picked their way over the corpses of ancient stags, empty shells that had once thundered all throughout Hallownest.

As it stood, it was a grim place. Dark. Their footsteps echoed. Seeing it, however, Hornet understood. There was plenty of space. The central platform, leading into the tunnels, could be adapted to suit a variety of purposes. The abandoned freight elevator was a room in and of itself, even for a being of the Hollow Knight's stature. There was even a second story, if they needed it. Perhaps the Ghost could claim it for their own. Her room in the Beast's den had been close to that size.  

As they returned to the platform, Ghost waited so that they could fall in step with their sister. She observed, "A wise choice, perhaps. However, it is not ours, is it?"

Ghost shook their head.

"I will speak to the stag, if that suits you."

They nodded.

Hornet darted ahead, and rejoined their host. "Stag?"

"Yes, young one?"

Hornet allowed this comment to pass. His assessment of her age hardly mattered, and she was still less inclined to offer her name.

"My siblings and I, with your permission, will tend to this place. We will see that your kin receive a proper burial. We will do this no matter what," she promised. "However, we have a boon to ask. And it is no small thing, I think."

"For the little one? Go ahead and ask."

"My siblings need a place to stay. Somewhere which will be safe for them. You have observed that our… elder sibling…" Once again, age meant little here. Though she couldn't help but wonder if the little Ghost had been older, once, denied maturation for impurity. "...Our elder sibling has a presence most striking."            

"Yes," the Stag said immediately. "Yes, that would be fine. I think… I would like that."

"You would?"

Now, he considered, only to reaffirm his choice. "I don't want this place to be a grave forever. It's meant to be a home. If it can be that for the little one and their kin, then I'm happy to allow it."

"Then you have our gratitude. Thank you." Hornet bowed, neat and low.

He didn't quite know how to handle that show of chivalry. "Well, thank you. It's been some time since… Thank you. I can see why they brought you."

She, in turn, didn't know how to respond to the compliment. She offered, "We will begin at once. You need not stay. I cannot say how long it will take."

"It's no trouble for me to stay. It's not as if I've got anywhere else to be."

"If you wish…" That wasn't what she had hoped to hear. She didn't want to be rude, not after what he had just granted them, but she warned, "While I cannot say how long it will take, I doubt it is a single day's work."

The stag chuckled, a sound like falling rocks. "I see, I see. Alright, then. If that's your druther, I'll leave you and your kin to it."

"We will call for you when it's done."

The stag agreed, "You'd better, young one! You fix up that bell there, and ring it when you're ready. And give the little one my regards." He stopped, but then added, "The big one, too."

He inclined his head once more, and sped back into the tunnels, leaving behind only a cloud of dust.

Hornet found the Ghost and the Hollow Knight staring up into the abandoned elevator shaft. She joined them, peering up in case they'd found anything amiss. But there was only the same stone as before.

"Knights," Hornet said softly, but the word echoed up the stone.  

Ghost jolted, and turned their gaze on her. So did the Hollow Knight, but with one smooth turn of their head. Hornet looked up and down between them for a moment, and then came to her senses, although she couldn't have said where she'd left them.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to alarm you." She moved on, breaking whatever had gripped them. "I spoke to the Stag, and you will be allowed to stay here. It will be safe. But first, we must prepare graves for the stags who remain."

The little Ghost nodded.  

The work was tiring and monotonous. They settled into a rhythm together, and pushed on in focused silence. The Hollow Knight dug graves in the cliffside, clawing out huge chunks of earth with their hand. Hornet and the Ghost carried the stags down one by one. Then, on one trip, the little Ghost stopped abruptly.

"What's the matter?" Hornet asked, adjusting the corpse in her grip as it bumped up against her. She peered around the side, just in time to see the Hollow Knight straighten. They held their arm close to their chest, which heaved with exertion.

The hot spring was, literally, magical. That did not make its power infinite. A wrathful god had eaten into the Hollow Knight's flesh for years. They were probably fortunate that the spring had worked deep enough for them to make the journey in the first place. They certainly shouldn't have been laboring. Shame flashed like a knife's edge inside Hornet's shell.

Of course they were skilled at disguising their pain. She should have known better.

"Little Ghost," Hornet said. "Let us put this one to rest. We should not let them touch the ground before they're buried."

The Ghost started walking again, and she followed. Once the corpse was in its grave, the Hollow Knight stepped forward to fill it.

Hornet held up a hand, and said, "Wait."

She hated the stillness that settled over the Hollow Knight, but they certainly were waiting. The little Ghost stepped in front of them. They beckoned to their sibling, and the Hollow Knight settled onto one knee. The Ghost reached up, and touched the Hollow Knight's stomach. Lightly. Barely at all, it seemed. The Hollow Knight flinched, and then drew stillness in around themself again.

"You are not well," Hornet said to them.

Once again, the little Ghost looked at her. They shook their head. For a vessel to have their flaws assessed never boded well.

She added quickly, "You must rest. The little Ghost and I will finish, yes?"

And now the small vessel nodded, quite vigorously this time. The Hollow Knight knelt, unmoving. At least they did not try to resume their task.

Hornet was reluctant to command them further, but she did. Her mercy would have been misguided. "If you wish to remain here, then sit."

They obeyed, and she couldn't shake the feeling that was all it was. But she had no idea what comfort she could offer them, and she did have work to do.

It took her and the little Ghost more time to finish this way, but neither of them had any objections. When they finished, the Ghost carried up some smaller stones which had been discarded, and embedded them in a circle on the cliffside. They then enlisted Hornet's help in placing a large rock in the center.

They drew their nail, and scratched into the rock, "Here lie the stags. Strong and unbroken. Faithful companions. Remember them."                    

"Well said." Hornet inclined her head. "They were great creatures…"

They were. Although she only distantly remembered their prime, without them, Hallownest never could have achieved the sparse good it did.

She turned to the Hollow Knight. "Now, we should all go inside. Do you need help walking?"

It was as if they didn't hear her, until they suddenly shook their head. They unsheathed their nail from their back, and swung it forward into the ground. They leaned on it, more hauling themself on the cliff than walking. She and the Ghost stayed on either side of them, minding their pace.

Now, the nest was truly empty. It needed some cleaning, some dusting and polish. The air was still thick with grime. It was still unsettling. If anything, the place now felt like a tomb waiting to be filled. Hornet was almost hesitant to leave them here, but it truly seemed like the best option. Safe and private.

She led the knights into the large elevator shaft. The Ghost hovered around the Hollow Knight, hopping up and down around them.

"Sit and rest, both of you," she told them. The Hollow Knight did as they were told. As always. She found herself glad for the Ghost's defiance; they nudged aside the Hollow Knight's tattered cloak, instead.

"Move aside, then," she said. "Do you think I'm asking for my health, little Ghost? I will examine their wounds."

Now, they complied. They watched her briefly as she examined the Hollow Knight's shell, before darting back off toward the cliffside entrance. So it would seem she was trusted with their more fragile sibling. At least there was that.

The Hollow Knight hardly reacted to her prodding. If she touched somewhere especially tender, they would hold their breath for the meanest instant. Or she could only suppose that's what was happening. Most of their body had to be tender. Perhaps they held their breath when they finally crossed whatever their threshold was for pain, before they could gather themself.

There was little she could do for the warped shell itself. Stiff and scarred though it was, it was whole. Bandages or bindings would be meaningless. It seemed as healed as it could be, as well, so even soul wasn't likely to improve anything.

"I have something that may help the pain. An ointment." She glanced up at them, too quick for them to avoid her. She held their gaze. "May I use it?"

There was something flat about the look they gave her. Not empty, flat. They nodded, as short as always. But no one coaxed them into it, and the little Ghost was still elsewhere. Did they trust her, too? Or was the pain just worse than she'd already thought? It didn't change what she had to do.

"Thank you," she said, sincerely. The bottle in her cloak was small, and she poured all the ointment out onto their shell. As potent as it was, spread thin over their side, it was barely enough. She stepped back when she was done.

"There. Does that help?"

She waited for their response. She had to trust that it would come, and yet they surprised her even so. They couldn't bow sitting down, but they inclined their head steeply.

"There's no need for that," she said. "I'm glad to do it."

They looked up at her, just long enough to meet her gaze, and then resumed their deferential posture.

Perhaps they'll find some stubbornness yet. She said only, "Very well, then. You are welcome."

The Hollow Knight straightened at last. Satisfied, she turned away and left to find the little Ghost.

They were just coming back down the smaller, operational elevator. They hopped the rest of the way onto the stone, and she told them, "I think the Knight is resting now, truly. Perhaps that can be their room?"

They peered past her. They pressed one hand thoughtfully to their chin.

She added, "It will need…quite a lot of work. But so does the rest of this place. You should have a room for yourself, too. There's enough space here. You chose well."

They nodded. She laughed softly.

"Is there anything else you need?"

The Ghost shook their head.

"Then I will be off." She bowed to them. "I will return when I have the chance. Be well."

She spun, and bent her knees. She was an instant away from dashing away and vaulting back down the cliffs. Something caught in her cloak, and pulled. Her heart thrummed in her shell. Her hand found her needle.            

Again, she turned. The Ghost's hand remained clenched in her cloak. They stared up at her. She let her hand fall.            

"Yes?"            

They tugged again.

"You may tell me if you need something," she said. "I will do my best to provide it. Then I must go."

They pointed back inside.

"Alright. Show me."

They led her onto the small elevator, and hopped to the platform on the other side - a complicated maneuver, as bright wings unfurled from their body, and then they seemed to dissolve into shadow to carry themself the rest of the way. Hornet threw her needle, and followed on a strand of silk.

They had buried the eggs, of course. What life they might have held was also long dead, devoid of even soul. Now, there was only the empty alcove, and the room to squeeze into beyond it. The little Ghost stopped by the hole. Hornet looked around.

"What is it?"

They pointed at her. Then they waved down the hole.

"I do not-"

They repeated the gesture. Hornet. The hole. No. The room.

This time, she stared at them. Of course, they were still staring at her. Their eyes met. She shook her head quickly. "I cannot stay, little Ghost. Much has changed in the kingdom already. I must observe, and I must prepare."

She didn't know what for, but that was exactly the point. Whatever was to come, there was no one else who could stand sentinel. She would not ask it of her siblings. Even if they had the strength, and as it was, they needed so badly to rest. They deserved that much, at least. This was her duty, and hers alone.

They didn't answer her. Instead, they beckoned over her shoulder. There was a massive thud as the Hollow Knight landed behind her, and settled hunched on their knees. They watched her, leaning in, tense. Unmistakably expectant.

"What about you?" She asked. "Do you wish for me to stay, also?"

They nodded. She looked back to the Ghost. They were nodding, too. Vigorously, again.

She sighed, and sat down against the wall, crossing her legs. "Very well. I did say I would provide, if you asked. I will stay, for now."

They walked up to her. They sat down next to her. Their head settled against her shoulder. She stiffened at the sudden contact, unaccustomed to such familiarity. But it was a soft touch, benign. She ordered herself to relax. Still, their head jerked up, even as the rest of them seemed to sink into themself.

They are a child, really, she remembered. They had fought untold enemies, bested her and foes that would have destroyed her utterly. They had brought an end to the infection. They had spent all day digging graves, just for a place to rest. She thought again: they deserve that rest.

"I am sorry," she said quietly. "You may stay there, if you wish."

They settled down again, but she could feel a difference in the pressure - she bore less of their weight, this time. She exhaled, and reached up with her free hand, undoing her cloak. She shrugged it off of one shoulder, and tugged it down to wrap it around their body.

They looked up at her.

"Yes. It is alright."

Then she patted the ground on her other side. "I know you are still hurt. Come and rest."

She certainly wasn't going to make them jump down. As it was, she'd rather not think about how crossing the shaft might have hurt them.

They slunk forward on their knees. They didn't seem to know exactly what to do with their body, how to arrange it for this. In the end, however, they had half-curled in on themself, with their knees by their stomach and their arm cushioning their mask. She reached out, as they watched. When they did not move away, she gently rested a hand on one horn. She kept her hand their, unmoving.

It was not long before both of them were not only still, but limp.

She could have left then, but she waited. She would wait, and watch over. This was her duty, and she had promised to give them what they needed. She hadn't thought this would be herself. But that it defied her expectations was no reason to renege on her word, and she had no wish to disturb the little Ghost. They had slumped against her and slid almost into her lap, still wrapped in her cloak.

They looked so delicate that way. The Hollow Knight on her other side looked as close to peaceful as she had ever seen.

She wouldn't leave them, not like this. She could decide on her next move when they awoke.

[space-blue]

The first short story I ever wrote

This story was my very first entry to the monthly competitions. It was my first ever English short story. Though it’s very tempting to edit it, I like to keep it exactly as I once posted it, so I can look back and see my own progress over time.

Hades didn't know how he felt about the sight in front of him. His life had led him to some of the most desolate places on the continent, and he had learnt to appreciate dreariness in a landscape. If you kept morals out, anything could become beautiful.

But the ruin of a city's Plant was something else. The vitreous building, still majestic despite its downfall, was marked by soot. Massive metal beams and towering shards of molten materials stabbed the ground around its broken frame. Fire had killed that Plant. Nothing spoke of slow and painful death like the carcass of a Plant. It meant no filtered water, no recycled earth. No uncontaminated food. Despite his twisted tastes, Hades couldn't find it in him to appreciate the view. Instead he shouldered his bag and went in search of a lookout, internally seething against his employer. It wasn't an assassin they should have sent out here but a recovery crew. The life of his target most certainly wasn't worth more than the smallest piece that could be salvaged from the Plant. His employer must be ill informed. The town had been doomed years ago in that fire.

He stayed in his lookout for two days before he spotted his first sign of human life. Gray shadow on grayer background. Proof people were still surviving. He sat in his concrete lair, charging his gun, screwing his silencer on. Maybe after all his target was alive. When he saw a second human in the distance, he took to the streets. For several hours he walked in expanding circles, hugging shadows, progressing through debris. The kid reached him before Hades could sense him. Instant brownie points earned. This respect was all that saved the child from getting his head blasted, as Hades stood, gripping his pack, grimly staring at the sheepish youth holding on to the other end of it. Hades shook the straps violently, jolting the kid off against the pile of trash sheltering them. However the kid stood his ground, cooly assessing the older man.

"Are you a Rogue?" the child asked, eyes suddenly sparkling. "Why? Are you a Rogue killer?" Hades scowled. The kid only groaned, turning his attention back to the pack. Hades had seen rogue killers younger than this kid. Considering that the ones who could claim the kill had first dibs on the rogue's belongings, people got motivated. In such ruined cities all thieves or scavengers, even simple shady strangers, would fall under the Rogue denomination. Of course Hades fell into other categories as well. Spy, thief, murderer. Gun for hire. Hopelessly for the locals, he would probably prove too hard a kill even if the entire town set after him.

"You've gotta be one though no?" The kid went on, "Not like people come to visit here no more."

"Your English is dreadful." Hades replied.

The kid shrugged, unconcerned. The sound of upset rubble clicked in the air and in an instant the kid fell forward, arms bent, fingers splayed to smoothly catch his weight. He landed soundlessly next to Hades, who had spontaneously crouched, palming his gun under his coat. He was impressed by the kid's reflexes. "Smart brat" he whispered. "Them dumb ones don't grow old." Hades waited, scanning the ruined street and staying stone-still, even after a scrawny fox dashed away, offering a possible explanation for the noise that had startled them. One didn't survive by being dismissive. As they finally relaxed, Hades made up his mind. "What's your name kid?" "Aki. What's yours?" "Hades" Aki frowned, his little dirty nose creasing in concentration. "Heard it before I think but… never met you" Hades laughed at that. "You probably heard it in old stories." "Stories about you?" "No. A very long time ago, some people believed in a God called Hades. They left many stories about their gods." The kid gaped, his jaw falling open in complete amazement. "You've got a god's name?! Dust me!" he was so enthusiastic that Hades resolved to keep the nature of his namesake's godly business to himself. No need to dampen the mood. "Aki, sorry to cut the fun but I've been traveling for days to get here. I've got a message for the town's Master Engineer. I didn't know the Plant had died. Is he still alive?" Aki nodded. "Could you take me to him?" Hades asked. The child stood up and dusted his thick gloves on his hips. "Canna do that if you're a Rogue." "I'm no Rogue." The kid shrugged again. Obviously the gesture was some local equivalent for "I don't care what you say". Hades opened his pack with a sigh and made a show of digging through his belongings under the suddenly burning gaze of the youth. He felt bad. Why bother with this kid? Hades had never had to invent a cover story before. Why talk to the rare people who got in his way when he could simply kill them? But if the kid led him to the Master Engineer, he'd speed Hades' work by days… And betray his Master. Anyway he wasn't lying was he? He was a traveller. He had a message to deliver. Bullet message between the eyes.

"Here, that's from Beiry. A shell, the home of a creature that lives in the sea. That's dried fruit paste. They make it in Sakarof, ten days walk West of here. It's sweet. And that's my old mister, you could plug it on your mask. It vibrates when the levels get too high. You pick. I give you the one you want to bring me to your Master Engineer." It was an easy bargain. The kid was quick in making decisions and wisely chose the mister over the rest. Aki might look twelve, but Hades suspected him to be older. The scraggy body poking under the layers of protective clothing spoke of years with too little food. He glanced down at his own chest, peeking under his combi at jutting ribs. He looked almost as malnourished as the child. That's what you got for spending weeks walking through the zone on stupid contracts.

Aki proved to be intense company. He needed frequent breaks and paced their movements in order to always rest in a shelter he was familiar with. He would then indulge in a stream of breathless chatter. He explained how the ruins of the town were mapped, took them to the water works, pointed at shelters, led the way to the cemetery field and cross-questioned Hades about the ways of other town-people, and if any around had pretty girls. He told him everything he remembered about the day their own Plant burnt. He was all around the single most bubbly, optimistic, good humoured zone dweller Hades had ever met. It baffled him. "You're a very trustful brat to tell a stranger all this." "It's my mom's doin' you know? It's how she saved the town too, when the Plant died on us." "What do you mean?" "You know of Master no? She's no leader, weird specialty too. Old tech, she used to study. When the Plant died, everyone was just feeling like it should be someone's fault, so they got after her." "Your Master Engineer is a woman?" Aki nodded. Hades was surprised, but waved at Aki to continue. "Like I said, my mom always went 'Aki, there is no trustin' no one these days, so you'll have to make a choice each time, and start trusting. Better live with treason than never trustin' no one'. That's what she went yelling at people who were after the Master, too. And she did good on that. None of us would be living but for the Master." Hades' curiosity was definitely piqued.

Aki had led them towards the edge of the town, walking along the hazy border between concrete and wilderness. He finally went up a slope, creeping to the top and hid behind a boulder, pointing down around it.

For the second time that week, Hades didn't know how to feel about the sight in front of him. Aki sniggered. Underground buildings poked out of the earth, next to three long, half buried glasshouses, complete with lead sheeting. A century old model. People where going around, caring for plants grown on aeroponic beds. "Dust me to Hell" Hades muttered, "your Master specialized in 21st century tech?" Aki nodded vigorously. "We're still twenty-two people, eight years after. She's teaching us good."

The Master, easily identifiable by her combi, appeared by a glasshouse, patiently showing another woman how to coil a water cable. And here he had come, to this impossible, hidden little village of hope, the god of Death he was, to put a bullet in that woman's head, crop it off and carry it to a ruthless employer. One bullet, twenty-two deaths. Hades felt sick. Dust it all! He turned to Aki, yanking him close. "Kid, in that cemetery, didn't you say you buried someone recently?"

~~ March 2015 – theme : Rogues

[a-trying-writer]

[[ The story needs it own post too. ]]

The price of eating a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich at the bodega may have eaten Jay's wallet more than she did, but it was always worth it. Especially today, since the streets are clogged, and the amount of packages she will have to deliver have grown compared to last week. At least the paycheck makes up for it.

Once she finished up her breakfast with a cup of orange juice, she gave Joshua – the store owner – a toothy grin. “Thanks, chef! I'll see you tomorrow!” she said, before securing her full face helmet on.

He gave her a firm nod before seeing her roller skate out of the store with a large bag strapped around her shoulder. That girl was going to get herself hurt again, but it never stops her from doing what she needs to do, no matter how many people beg her.

Skating from one road to another, between the honking cars with people screaming expletives out their window, Jay turned her bracelet on to see a map flash on her visor. Blinking red dots appeared on selected points of interest, along with lines on where the best shortcuts are from her personal experience. With a press of a button, the map revealed the address of her first stop: an apartment.

A few familiar faces greeted her as they watched her slip between narrow alleys, and as she passed by a man by jumping over a fence with the help of a ramp, he clicked on the stopwatch in his hand. He checked the time with a smirk, before pocketing the watch. “She finally slowed down for once,” he muttered to himself as he climbed into his truck.

Once she arrived at her destination, Jay lifted up her visor to see a middle aged woman sitting on the front porch. “Hey, Miyu,” she greeted her as she pulled out a tablet from her bag.

“Good to see you again, Jay,” she said as she picked up the stylus and signed her full name. “I see your bag is a little bit more stuffed than usual.”

Jay chuckled as she confirmed the delivery, and took out a box to give to Miyu. “It's no big deal,” she replied with a shrug. “Anyway, hope you and your kid are doing good.”

The woman gave her a warm smile. “We are, but Aya misses you a lot, child. You should come by for dinner sometime.”

“Ah, free food does sound tempting... and it's always fun to play with Aya. How about this Friday?”

“Very well, I'll give you a call before then, all right?”

Jay nodded her head with a smile in her eyes then closed her visor. “Okay. See you, Miyu.” She lifted her gaze to spot a young child peeking through a window and waved. The girl smiled as she returned the wave and watched her skate away.

It was not often that Jay stopped by the Okamura family, especially during deliveries, but they are one of the several people she feels comfortable talking to during her job. On her way to the next destination, she marked the day she will visit them before letting the image flicker out behind her visor.

The sun was almost over the horizon by the time Jay delivered her second to last package. She lifted up her helmet to take in the fresh air while gazing up at the orange tinted sky. It was difficult to see the sun at this time of day due to the large buildings around her, so she could only imagine how beautiful it must look.

Jay had lived in this city since her mother wanted to start a new life after the divorce with her father. It was difficult to adjust to the changes during her childhood, and she could never remember how the sun looked as it rose and fell. It wasn't until she turned thirteen that she had accepted it.

Things were difficult as the years went by. School became overwhelming for Jay, to the point that she dropped out at sixteen, and decided to study at home instead. While she had got her diploma, she didn't seek out a job until she was twenty-five, because her mother fell ill.

Her father wanted to get in touch with them, but her mother did not want anything to do with him. Why, Jay never knew. When she finally passed away, all contact outside the city was cut off, and Jay had to take care of herself with some of the inheritance that her mother passed down on to her.

Knowing that it was only going to be temporary, Jay searched for jobs to keep food on her table. It took several attempts, but she finally got one with the city's delivery service. Since then, her life has become stable.

Plus, she had a fun hobby to go along with it – roller skating.

Realizing she was smiling to herself, Jay slipped her helmet back on to deliver the last package for today. Her mother is probably proud of her, she thought.

The last stop made Jay question her GPS multiple times, but no matter what she did, it led her to a run down building sitting between apartments that are very much intact and livable. Well, there was no point in questioning it anymore. She carefully climbed up the stairs and pressed the single working button on the panel built into the side.

There was no response, but she did it again, this time yelling, “Pelican Packages delivery! Is there a Miss...” She paused to reread the name then tried to say it as slowly as possible, “Er-ee-na... Flo-reah?”

Silence.

“It's Doctor Irina Florea,” the person answered. “Please, leave the package at the door.”

A slight frowned formed on Jay's face. “You have to sign for it, Doctor,” she replied while mocking the person's title.

Another minute of silence.

“Fine,” they groaned. “I'll be there in a moment.”

Jay released the button with a huff. It's only natural to expect rude people in this line of work, but that doesn't mean she can't complain to her boss about it. Perhaps this person will be black listed, or assigned to some other delivery person, as much as she didn't want others to suffer the same way she is.

It took a moment for the person to approach the door and open it to reveal a haggard woman with red hair tied in a messy bun. She was dressed in a button up shirt and gray slacks and bunny slippers. Jay wasn't one to judge a person by their appearance, but this woman's attire just screams “workaholic”. She almost pitied her.

Like before, Jay gave the doctor a tablet to sign her signature with a brief hum.

“Is everything okay?” Jay asked.

“Hm?” She blinked at her a few times, before she rolled her head around with a yawn. “Your tablet is quite outdated... Is this really what your job assigned you with? A tacky tablet?”

Jay sucked in a deep breath as she tucked the tablet away. “I can't beg my boss to update our devices – that is up to the CEO of the company.”

There was a brief sparkle in the woman's eyes, until she blinked it away with a subtle disapproving look. “Can't be helped, I suppose.” She then stretched out her arms towards Jay. “Package, please.”

Jay took out a large, rectangular shaped box from her now empty bag to pass it towards her. There was a brief moment when Jay thought she felt something crawl on her skin, but when she pulled her arm back, whatever it was either fell off, or was just her imagination.

The doctor looked at her with a raised brow, but Jay quickly dismissed it with a shake of her head. “Enjoy your evening, Doctor,” she said, then turned away.

Irina only hummed in response before she shut the door behind her. That woman was quite short, the doctor thought as she made her way back to her room. Monitors and computers decorated it from the floor, to the walls, and even the ceiling. She maneuvered over the cables to reach one of her desktops and place the package on the table.

When she reached out for her scissors, only to realize that it was missing from her table, and let out a long, weary sigh. “Power on, Joy!” she yelled.

There was no response.

“Joy?” she repeated as she looked up at a sphere installed in the wall. “Hey, wake up!”

A bright blue light lit up from the sphere and turned towards Irina. “Pardon, Dr. Florea, I have just noticed an error in my system,” it replied.

“Show me the error!”

A screen flickered before Irina, showing Joy's entire body, from its shell to its cables within. Everything seemed to be in one piece, except for one part that was supposed to be installed just yesterday. The doctor huffed with a shake of her head. “I thought it was something far worse than that, Joy. I'll make you another one.”

“Very well, Doctor,” the drone spoke, before falling quiet.

On her way home, Jay stopped by the bodega again to pick up an order from Joshua for herself. A delicious toasted sandwich with turkey, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and vinegar. She took off her roller skates to climb the stairs in her bare feet, and opened the door with a soft tired sigh.

After placing her bag aside in the living room, Jay stripped off her clothing to shower and put on a set of pajamas. She turned on the television to stream a movie, and report her work for today to her boss.

When she saw Irina's name on the list, she wondered if she should share her experience. Perhaps the woman was working too hard, which is why she acted the way she did. It was okay for the workers to share information about the clients so they could be safe, but Jay wanted to give this woman the benefit of doubt, and maybe keep her name clean for the time being.

So she put a special report under Irina's name. “I will be glad to take any packages for her.”

Once she pressed send, her work was actually done. All she has to do now, is rest and eat her sandwich while watching a B list horror movie.

She didn't notice the small sphere climbing out of her bag, and made its way up to the top of her couch to watch it alongside her.

[digindydig]

Indy’s Stories

Part 4: A Night at Bowser’s

Indy sat back in her chair as she read the article. She sipped her warm tea slowly, trying to ease her hangover. She scrolled down as her laptop showed a picture of the sole survivors of the Endurance. Lara being one of them. It was past noon when Indy awoke from her slumber and the first thing that came to mind aside from her pounding headache, was of none other than Lara Croft. She spend a good hour searching the web before she found what she was looking for.

“So you’re ‘that’ Croft.” She said out loud, seeing the names of those who perished and photos of the original crewmen. But her headaches were making it difficult to pay attention to important information, she decided to give up the searching for now. Closing the laptop,Indy stood from her seat before her phone dinged as a text came through. It was from Lara. Indy had text her back when she awoke. Would a friend like Croft be good for Indy? Or would it be problematic? After all Indy was a thief, she wasn’t an archeologist like Lara or her grandfather. She was just a person with dumb luck and fast thinking. Some of Indy’s finds where based off of pure luck alone. She may not share the title of an archeologist but she was the highest paid raider. She knew her stuff and she was bloody good at it. Indy wanted to continue their conversation on Lara’s field of studies. She wanted to know how extensive Lara’s knowledge for history was, what places had she seen? What mysteries had she uncovered? But why was Indy so interested? Indy had to think on that. Why was Lara so interesting? They did share the same interests. Or was it that there was something else. Indy remembered the feeling she had when around Lara. Relaxed but intimidating.

‘Have to be careful around Croft.’ Indy would probably talk to Felicity about it.

She texted Lara back before she walked into the bathroom for a shower.

Later that night, Indy peered over the balcony, cold wind blowing through her hair, her green eyes focused on the busy street. Instinctively she was scanning the area, mapping out all the possible escape routes, her mind playing out scenarios. Something she found herself doing a lot, it had gotten worst after she came home. Her senses going into hyper drive even when she was out of danger. Adrenaline rushing, her mind racing. She knew that feeling.

“Heal that wound Indy.” She said to herself, she had a week of thinking and now it was time to do what she came to do. Lara had told her to get it done just like Felicity. She had no choice at this point, it had to be done if Indy wanted answers.

“Shit! Easier said than done.” She said out loud, she hung her head in frustration. She kept telling herself it was for a greater cause, too not let her anger get ahold of her when she saw the man. How would she feel when she see’s her sister or Cedric? It will only be a matter of time before Indy’s past is revealed. It will come to bite her in the ass later and she knew it. Indy wasn’t particularly the favorite in the tomb raiding business. Definitely will have a target on her back if news got out on who she was. She was screwed both ways. Was all of this really worth it? To Indy it definitely was worth it. She will pay a visit to the manor in the morning. The side door behind Indy opened. Felicity joined Her on the balcony. She leaned on the railing looking out into the city. In the far distance stood the Millennium Wheel, London’s big Ferris wheel illuminating. It was breathtaking for those who weren’t locals. it still amazed Felicity in how beautiful it looked at night. She still considers it a death trap but she can admit it was nice to look at. Sound of a ding caught her attention, she watched Indy smile at her phone as she’s texting back. ‘Interesting’

“Thought your weren’t the texting type? What’s the special occasion?” Felicity spoke and it broke Indy’s concentration. She snapped her eyes away from the phone to look at her partner. oddly enough she felt like she’d just been caught, like a child with their hands in a cookie jar. Strange for Indy to feel but she ignored the feeling and went to answer Felicity’s question. She knew Felicity was going to tease her to it if she didn’t tell her. ‘Might as well clear the air I suppose.’ She thought to herself.

“Well if you must know, I took you advice yesterday and made a friend.” Indy said. But was Croft a friend? Or will she become a foe? Indy was a bit unease about telling Felicity about her time with Lara. Was it a wise decision to tell Felicity everything? Yes, no doubt, Indy had to tell her even if she did want to keep Lara as a separate friend away from her already crazy ones. But her and Felicity where best friend’s and best friends don’t keep secrets. To Felicity it was a surprise to see Indy interact with people she didn’t know. Normally if It was work related or if you hadn’t met Indy before, she was cold and distant. That was her defense Mechanism. She didn’t blame the kid though. It was good to see her get out of her shell.

“Is that so? So who’s the unlucky girl?” Felicity had a smirk on her lips. Rolling her eyes at Felicity.

“Funny. But how do you know it’s not a guy?” She shot back. Sure she was going to tell Felicity but doesn’t mean Felicity will get her answer the simple way not after that comment anyways. Letting out a small tsk she knew Indy was lying.

“Because you don’t smile when a man texts you. So nice try.” Felicity said. She playfully punched Indy’s arm. Sometimes Indy forgets that Felicity knows a lot about her. After a few more playful bickering about who was person. The balcony door opened again only this time it was the youngest member of their crew. Another Aussie by the name Jai, he announced that their pizza had arrived. They joint the rest of the crew. The warmth of the apartment was welcoming and the smell of fresh food was enough to make Indy’s mouth water. After being out in the wilderness for so long Indy had to survive off the land, only time she would have something decent to eat was when Indy was in some town. She didn’t realize how much the familiar taste of pizza would make her relived to be back home. Moaning as the favor hits her taste buds.

“Do you have any idea how fucking good this taste.” Indy sign happily.

“Careful Pup, don’t burn yourself.” Said Dutch. Dutch born and raised in Fort Willams Scotland. He was the oldest of the group and one of Indy’s mentors. For a man in his fifty’s he was well kept, ex military along with Elias. Dutch was a man that really didn’t care about a persons feelings. In her younger years Indy often butted heads with Dutch but because of that, Dutch respected her for it. Dutch would had knocked someone’s lights out if they had talked to him in any ill form but Indy was special to him. Elias was more easy going. After Indy was old enough to tag along with them, Elias began to rely on Indy intuitions and that’s when they found out what made Indy so special. Photographic memory, the kid remembered everything. It was like hitting a gold mine. Over the years their relationship flourished and they gained more people, those Indy considered trustworthy and loyal. Jonathan Becket or Bowser for short, met Indy in the most unexpected and unforgettable time. Rumors where going around about a rookie who’s been picking up hard jobs and coming back loaded, going by the name Indy. Long story short Bowser took a job to steal an artifact from a museum in the middle of a civil war. Getting in was the easy part until Bowser ran into Indy or more into a heavy cast iron skillet Indy had in her grip. That it self started a game of cat and dog. In the end they turned out working better together. Calum Was Jai’s older cousin, they met through Felicity. Calum unlike the others pushed Indy’s buttons and often questioned her judgments on jobs which infuriated Indy at times but his loyalty showed in the end. He was there because Indy needed Jai. The kid was a technical wizard and a hacker to boot. The kid was still in college and stayed with Calum. Indy had no choice but to deal with man.

They all made small talk throughout the night, had a couple of beers. It was nice and relaxing.

“So what are you going to do about your problem, Pup?” Dutch stood next to Indy. He knew why Indy had to go talk to her family and it annoyed him that Amir wasn’t making things easy for her either. Dutch had become very protective over the years. Shaking her head, Indy chugged her beer before she answered.

“Not so sure, At this point I’ll just go with the flow. I’m going to stop by the manor in the morning to get this all over with.” She said. Once more her attention was taken away by her phone. Felicity placed her hand on Indy’s shoulder.

“Do you need me to go with you?” She offered because she knew this was going to be difficult for Indy.

“Or invite that new friend of yours.” She playfully teased but it made Indy chuckle a bit.

“No, This is something I have to do on my own. And I hardly doubt bringing Lara into the mix would help.” She didn’t know why she let Lara’s name slip from her lips but it was too late to take it back now. Much to Felicity’s delight to finally know the person taken Indy’s attention throughout the night.

“Lara? Hmmm sounds like a girls name to me.” She stated. At what joy did Felicity get out of teasing Indy, Indy didn’t know.

“Yes, Her name is Lara and she’s an archeologist to boot.” She didn’t want to say too much about Lara because she didn’t know the her. They had texted all day about little things unrelated to her family situation. It seemed that Lara was avoiding the conversation only telling Indy to go for it. But it seemed Lara was just as interested as Indy was. She asked about Indy’s line of work and other things. Of course Indy played it smart, not telling Lara too much. But sometimes Indy’s curiosity broke through when Lara spoke about history. She only met Croft last night, she was just a stranger whom Indy was curious about. Indy told Felicity and Dutch about her night at the pub where she met Lara but she left out the part about Yamatai.

“Could be a good asset to the team.” Dutch said but Indy shook her head.

“No, keeping her at a distance is the best for now. Until I can find out more about her.” Indy said. she did think about it but there was something in the back of her mind waving red flags and she took that into consideration, maybe now isn’t the right time.

“Smart. Keeping her at a distance until she can be trusted.” Felicity’s said. Dutch and Indy both agreed. The rest of the night was a blur to Indy. She knew when the morning came she will no longer be safe. But her training had to continue if she wanted to truth, she just hope that she doesn’t lose herself in the process.

It took longer then expected. I don’t own Tomb Raider or its characters. I do own mines. I know I didn’t get into details with the other characters but I’ll try to get to them.

[flosiovis]

🔮

SEE INTO MY MUSES PAST! SEND 🔮 AND I WILL WRITE A DRABBLE OF A MEMORY THAT YOUR MUSE GETS TO SEE INTO. (no longer accepting... LEST?)

I ended up writing something really long so while you CAN read this here (under the cut), I would really appreciate if you just uhhhh -> did this instead

My life didn’t change from night to day. But when I opened my eyes that morning, it felt as if what I had endured for those two, nearly three years had been a nightmare. If I just got up and walked over to the window, I would see couples walking arm in arm down the street, flowers being sold by the bouquet, someone trying to make a few pesetas and go home. The sun would kiss my face and I would throw the doors of the window open, like in those early films, and shout across to my neighbor: —Doña Isabel, is it time for coffee yet?—

I missed her so much. I missed sipping on watery, cheap coffee as we had our little arguments in the morning, every morning, because she loved me, and wanted to see me happy. Her idea of happiness was a marriage, of course, with several children and a profession and a home somewhere away from the city.

—But don’t you see that you’re the only woman for me?— I would joke, knowing that deep down in my heart, the only person I could see myself marrying at that point just simply would not be up to par with her expectations of me.

Remiel, my friend, this beautiful, brilliant young man who dedicated himself to me every Sunday afternoon for six months in a row. He brought me the most beautiful carnations I had laid eyes upon, good beer if he could find it, and an immeasurable amount of pleasure with his company… o, how my heart aches, thinking about how things ended so abruptly, how any future we could have had was ripped from our hands.

If it had been a nightmare, I could get up, and go drink with her a taza of coffee that I swear was mostly dandelion ground and ash. I would kiss her wrinkly old forehead as Doña Isabel cooed at me, trying to convince me that she knew someone whose niece was very nice and very pretty, awaiting a prince like me to make a princess out of her! I would hold her face in my hands, and say, —Your mother and her mother before her tried to convince me of the same thing,— and laugh until she thought that I didn’t mean it.

Instead I laid there because I felt it, that everything had been real, that we tore each other to shreds for months on end and here we were–here I was–the regretful survivor of a war I couldn’t afford to lose, but that I did. I lost. Everyone that was precious to me had met their end by firing squad, or had been herded into a concentration camp to be shot there.

I was the last to surrender my weapon, not because I thought I still had a chance, but because I didn’t want them to have to watch me die. I also didn’t deserve to spare myself of the guilt that accompanied watching as they fell, one by one, into that mass grave. Bodies upon bodies, shell after shell, yet I didn’t cry. I wasn’t alive: I was just a body that hadn’t fallen in yet. When they grabbed my hair and slit my throat, I felt relieved, like I would finally be at rest.

Despite being riddled with bullets, a few days later, I clawed my way out, retching and heaving and crying, only to be grabbed by the wrists and dragged along to the capital. —The Spanish State—, they called me. —Burn in hell,— I replied.

For months, I felt rotted, violated, with every second I lived I felt more and more wrong, every breath I took was forced and the air stung like poison in my lungs, I couldn’t breathe much less get up by my own will, but now I had no choice. No say. I had to get up. I had to move on. If I wasn’t going to die, then my only option would be to try to survive the cruelty of the nation I now found myself in. A foreigner in my own home, persona non grata in the streets that had been built for me, that I helped map out.

When I think of that morning, I think of how cruel life could be, and that I deserved that cruelty, while at the same time thinking that I didn’t deserve to live, but that it would be too light of a condemnation for me to die. This is what I have felt for ages. This is what I will feel until the wounds inflicted upon me scab over.

But it has been less than a century since the war, not even fifty years since the end of that damned regime, and time has not been good to me. I have not been good to myself. Because I am not a martyr, I am not a victim; I have been arrogant and unkind and selfish for too long; I don’t learn from my mistakes even if I suffer their consequences, and I know, deep down, that I cannot overcome my past because I refuse to face it.

I’m tired. I want to rest. I want to go back, to that river from which I crawled out, and I want to curl up until I am found… and I’ll have a normal life. I’ll age, I’ll hunt and gather and weave. Maybe I’ll die young, destined to meet my end by spear, or some illness, or I’ll drink too much and keel over! I always wanted to die laughing, so that would be perfect. Drunk and happy and dead. My funeral pyre…the thought makes me too happy. I should know better now, but it makes me so fucking happy.

I think Doña Isabel would have wanted for me to be happy that morning. It was what she had always dreamed of. Seven years after the war ended, in 1946, I was getting married to a young woman who had been handpicked for me.

Bonifacia came from nothing, had a strong fear of God, and had never worn red lipstick until the day she became my wife. After that, I don’t think she picked it up more than once or twice in the fifteen years that we lived together. She was virginal and pure, which to them meant that she would be the cure to my troubles, and the perfect coverup for my bad reputation.

They didn’t know that I could contaminate everything I touch, and that she was no exception. I hardened her heart over time with the cruelty of my words, my inability to love her or even become her friend, despite the fact that we were both trapped in the same cage. Yes, I was forced to marry her, but no one forced me to treat her unkindly.

I didn’t realize that until after the ruse became impossible to keep up. She aged, and I didn’t, not at the same rate as her, and she wanted children… After she left me, with the blessing of the state and an annulment, she married again just three months. Within the year, shortly after her 33rd birthday, she had her first baby, a girl named María Dolores, and that was the last that I heard of her. Far from being insulted, I actually felt happy for her, and sent her flowers.

(Carnations, of course.)

She didn’t care much for them, but all of a sudden, I cared so much for her.

—Why are you here?—

[wilhelmjfink]

“was” pt. 11

previously: And while she watched the van pull away, she continued to call for him repeatedly, as if that would change anything, feeling helpless and broken and alone and… and just numb.

Y/N was devastated, to say the least. 

Rick stood patiently outside the door of what should’ve been her and Daryl’s Alexandrian home, but currently only housed her as she locked herself away from the rest of the world. 

“I know you’re in there,” Rick hollered against the barrier between them, knowing that she was somewhere inside of the small townhouse curled up, keeping to herself and refusing to leave the safety of the walls her and Daryl once shared. 

She didn’t respond. “I’m comin’ in!” He announced, his hand already turning the brass knob in his hand until it clicked before he cautiously pushed he door open. It squeaked and he flinched, the sound the loudest thing he’d ever heard compared to the dark, heavy silence inside of the him. 

Just as he’d suspected, Y/N sat on the loveseat with her back facing him, trying to ignore his presence. He knew she wanted to be alone — her and Daryl were similar like that. But he also knew that Daryl had a tendency to be extremely self-destructive and he’d already watched her crash and burn after he’d been taken by Negan’s men the first time. And where they were headed with the army of Saviors against them, they couldn’t afford for her to wallow in the dark, feeling sorry for herself. 

At the same time, however, Rick’s heart shattered at the sight of her curled up and hugging herself on the couch: heavy bags under her eyes from the exhaustion of not having slept for the last 48 hours, her skin already porcelain from being ill and unwell and fragile, so thin and delicate that he was hesitant to sit next to her for fear of breaking her entirely. 

“Y/N,” he tried to clarify his presence one again as to avoid scaring here out of her trance it seemed she was in, but she looked right over to him. Her normally radiant eyes were dull and bloodshot, puffy and red from her constant crying. One foot in front of the other he carefully made his way toward her. “Hey. It’s me. Let’s talk...”

“What’s there to talk about?” She croaked, her voice jagged like she’d swallowed shards of glass, completely void of the vibrance and attitude of girl he’d known for so long. “I can’t even imagine what they’re doing to him. And it’s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is!” She was suddenly on her feet, staring him as her balance wavered like she was drunk or dizzy. She pointed a finger harshly in his face. “Dont you try and tell me it’s not. He should’ve taken me!”

When she turned away from him to hide her face, becoming too overwhelmed with emotions, that was when he noticed the small but evident blood stain on her white long sleeved shirt, right over where she’d been shot. 

“Y/N, you’re bleeding — “

“He said he wanted me, Rick. So why didn’t he take me?” As she collapsed back down onto the sofa he planted himself next to her, carefully guiding her backwards so that she didn’t collapse on the floor in the fit of sobs that took over her. “Why couldn’t he have taken me instead? Why —“

Rick interjected, unhappy with the guilt that was wrongfully drowning her. “Don’t say that — you don’t want that.”

“No, what I don’t want is Daryl to be suffering because of me,” she spat harshly at him, wiping her eyes on the back of her sleeve. She opened her mouth to speak, but Rick beat her to it. 

“Do you know how devastated he was when he heard you’d been shot?” He asked, his tone firm and unwavering. Y/N looked up at him curiously, waiting for him to continue with wherever he was going. “He... he wasn’t Daryl. He was just a shell. He didn’t know how to function without you — he was so sure you wouldn’t wake up. By the third day, he’d already lost hope.”

Y/N’s demeanor fell even lower and Rick quickly corrected himself. “Not in you, but in... everything around him. Life wasn’t worth living to him, not without you. Do you know why he left, Y/N?” Rick was heated, though not angry and as Y/N shook her head no he suddenly paused, halting himself before he stumbled too far into a conversation it wasn’t his right to initiate. “Because everything reminded him of you. And the second that he heard you were awake — the second that he knew Negan was in the infirmary with you... it was like a whole new Daryl, Y/N. I’ll bet nothin’ in the world could’ve stopped him after he heard that.”

Y/N had begun crying harder, impatiently waiting for Rick to make his point by tearing her soul in two, her love for him only growing at his words. They would be reassuring, she thought, if she was worried about whether or not Daryl loved her. But despite his introverted and closed-off nature and his harsh mannerisms, she was sure he loved her, regardless of how hard it was for him to show it; she’d always taken that into consideration and it only confirmed that he really did think the world of her. 

But that wasn’t the problem. No — the problem was that he was being held prisoner in the place that already managed to break him once. So despite how hard he fought to keep his composure and maintain a stoic appearance every single day, she was the only one that knew of the nightmares that plagued his dreams every single night; of Glenn, of Negan, of Dwight, of the Saviors in their entirety. Usually, she’d lean closer, hold him tighter, whisper soothingly to him if dramatically steadying her own breathing to urge him along didn’t help. But now, she wasn’t there to hold him and protect him from those demons. They had manifested right in front of her and before they could do anything they were surrounded by them. And they laid into him, punching and kicking and laughing at him before ripping him away from her and dragging him back down to the dark recesses of his mind where she’d spent so much time trying to drag him out of. 

“He would’ve ran right back into Negan’s arms if it meant makin’ sure you were safe — he still would.”

It was then that it clicked with Y/N; the point Rick was trying to make was that Daryl was tough and would endure anything for her. He would’ve walked to hell and back twice, three or four or nine or ten times for her, as she would for him. But it brought her little comfort. Everybody had a breaking point, and Negan was well aware of where Daryl’s was and she knew he ended to exploit it the way only he could. 

“Just... promise me you won’t do anything stupid, alright? We need ya here.”

Y/N appreciated Rick’s effort — she really did. But she couldn’t help but break down again at the mere thought of him, burying her face in her hands as she cried for him, the tears never seeming to stop. 

It seemed like the last four weeks of freedom had been nothing but a fever dream. 

Daryl was right back where he started, dirty sweats, moldy bread and all, laying on the floor of the same exact cell from the last time he was prisoner at the Sanctuary. Easy Street still blared — they hadn’t change their tactics one bit. Though this time, instead of the reoccurring nightmares that showed Glenn getting beat to death due to his fault — something he’d only been able to reconcile and come to terms with because of her — it was her screams as he was dragged away, her cries as Saviors yanked her backwards and she desperately flailed and tried to free herself from their grip to reach her. And every time he’d turn toward her, wanting so badly to return to her and hold her and promise he was alright, the Saviors turned to grotesque, rotted corpses and he had to watch them eat her alive as she pleaded for him to come save her.

 But he never could; not in dreams nor in reality.

He was easily able to tune the song out at that point. Though he would’ve preferred it over the sounds of her cries that echoed in his head, rattling his brain like a drill and leaving him to fight off his own tears as he felt helpless and worthless and alone. If he couldn’t save her, what good was he?

He’d been through this before — just recently, even. When he’d left the first time in a fit of rage, unable to stop the emotions from flowing upon finding out news he never, ever once in his entire life had even considered having to hear. He was supposed to tell her. He didn’t know how to do it at first. He stressed about it the second that he heard she’d woken up. And when that stress was quickly replaced with the sweetest relief he’d ever experienced in his lifetime, he’d forgotten all about it. Now, even though the initial reminder of breaking the news to her had been so bitter and undesirable, he would still choose having to do that over wallowing in the feeling of loss he was experiencing now. Knowing she was out there waiting for him, and that he would never come. 

He succumbed easily upon his arrival back here, still disheveled from the fight and obvious concussion he sustained, but unlike the last time he had absolutely no fight left in him. He’d just got his girl back — fuck, he’d just gotten her back! He hadn’t even been able to speak a single word to her, let alone hold her in his arms or kiss her lips or see her smile, her entire face lighting up when he walked in like it always did — something he would never fucking understand. 

Y/N had spent the night racking her brain for any memories she had that withheld valuable information about Negan or the Sanctuary, everything turning up flat. She had no leads; not even an idea on how to get there. But she still hovered over the county map, a red ‘x’ signifying the Saviors headquarters that lay far back in the woods 30 miles away from her. That was a hell of a walk, but she didn’t think twice about it. That kind of thing really didn’t matter anymore.

Daryl had her pack a bag that she’d always kept in the closet that was ready to scoop up and head out, should they ever needed to. He never trusted Alexandria and even after she begged him to just try and settle, he couldn’t say no to her big puppy dog eyes, but still found it hard to ever feel even remotely comfortable. But she’d humored him and packed the bag, knowing deep down it was a practical idea, and she was happy she did. It held a canteen full of water, protein bars and canned goods, an extra set of clothing, a box of ammunition and the suppressor for her Ruger, generic first aid, and other odds and ends they’d learn to appreciate when out on the road with no shelter or steady source of sustenance.

There was a knock at her door and she quickly kicked the backpack with her heel, sliding it under the bed frame she sat on and crumpled up the map that lay sprawled on her lap. She didn’t have to answer — nobody expected her to and they always waltzed the fuck in anyway. She was sick of the pitiful looks she’d gotten lately — yeah, she was devastated, beside herself and even still healing from being shot twice and unconscious for a week to follow, but the broken people often made the most dangerous ones, and she had every intention of going out with a bang. 

The door pushed open and she was surprised to see Carl peek in, almost hesitantly. 

“Hey,” she greeted him quietly as he made his way into the room, closing the door behind him. She would never get over how much he’d grown up over the years. 

“Hey,” he replied. It was obvious something was on his mind and before Y/N could ask, he spoke back up. “Alright. You’re not thinking about going after Daryl, are you?”

She could never lie to Carl. So she hung her head down silently, avoiding his gaze. “Not as long as your dad keeps a tight leash on me.”

Carl nodded — it was true that Rick was making an effort to keep tabs on Y/N, checking up on her frequently even though she never left the house. She’d even seen him talking to those on watch duty and only suspected it was about her when they both had turned and spotted her watching from her front porch, immediately silencing before splitting up.

“I can help you.”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“I’ve been to the Sanctuary. I can help you get inside. I can tell you where they’re keeping Daryl.”

Though obviously weighing heavily on her mind just the mention of his name aloud tugged on her heartstrings, springing tears of anger and frustration and fear in her eyes. Carl was serious; he stood strong, cold. After a moment of consideration, her unfolded the map you’d hastily shoved to your side and flattened it back out onto the bed.

2 more parts..... what’s gonna happen :/ no one knows!

@crossbowking @jodiereedus22 @apossiblegentleman @mtngirlforever @sourwolf-sterek32 @winchester-angel @qrangr @cole-winchester @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @twdeadfanfic @crazyaboutnorman @deliciousassafrasssandwich @bunnymother93 @96ssi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes  @mrbarneswhitewolfsir @thatsoragan @lonewolf471

[yveschanceux]

Yves takes his time placing his objects into the simple stained box. A harmonica reed, a petrified flower, a small quill with the ink still staining the tip, a long blade of grass that could carry a whistle, a rock, a shell, a small coin, and a few other odds and ends. He tries to work quickly, so as not to dwell, but gently enough to tuck the small objects away where they won’t be rattled around too much. He wants nothing more than this to be over, and the debt to be paid.

Finally, he dives into his life to try and cut out the parts that Dahlia didn’t ask for, anything that doesn't directly provide context for his house and the way he is, he tries to remove.

In the end, he does an okay job, they aren't as cleanly cut as Dahlias, he watches the reel back, trying to force cold indifference. It’s hard, but not nearly as hard as it was the first time.  He does trust Dahlia, he supposes, but not enough to give more than asked, not yet, so he slaps the lid closed with a sigh and places the box on the table before her, nervous energy bouncing his leg.

With barely contained eagerness, Dahlia nods and opens the box.

Her vision blacks out, all she has are her other senses and it’s strange not being able to fall back on her mage’s vision. She feels his life thrumming in her veins.

Yves has always made the best of life, she can feel it in his ribs, knows that he’ll always be okay, as long as he has Felix.

It immediately feels like a dream.

-----

Dahlia wakes up on the stairs of the back porch, it's a late spring evening and shes reclined down the steps in an awkward but mostly comfortable daze watching the dust pick up and settle in the warm breeze. Even laying down, Yves body feels too long and wide on her consciousness. She can feel the high of fatigue holding down his limbs and the sun lulling him to sleep. Soft footfalls thump slowly in the house and then out onto the porch. Ilya drops down next to Yves, slightly higher up on the steps and takes his head into her lap to play with his hair and rubs a hand down his bare chest.

“Hey, babe.” “How are you feeling?” Ilya asks, looking out at the pollen swirling in the road. “Your fevers gone.”

“Mmhmm.” Yves lets her eyes flutter shut and grasps for Ilyas hand on his chest, the additional warmth of his wife lulling him further into a doze. “I’ll be back to work soon…”

“Let me know when you’re ready to finish the eel,” she traces the black and green lines across his shoulder.

He makes another content noise. “How’s Felix been?”

“Hmm. Felix is doing well in the city. He’s taken on an apprentice it seems, has high hopes for her. He’s glad to hear we’ve settled in and keeps threatening to visit.” She grins and plants a kiss at his damp temple. “We should clean up your old room for guests-”

Her voice cuts off as Yves falls into a soft sleep.

-----

They wake on the beach in the late afternoon, Dahlia is overcome with a moment of Deja Vu, but Yves seems content with the routine. Ilya rouses beside them, much less burnt and they sleepily gather their belongings and make the familiar journey up the bluff-side to watch the sunset.

They can see just the top of the farmhouse roof behind them. In the distance, the outlying docks of the town a mile away can be made out against the blue water, and facing directly into the ocean is the sun, seconds from setting. A small strip of exposed sandbar is the only obstruction breaking up the endless expanse in this direction, and the water surrounding the sliver of sand is aglow with glowing green algae and ocher and purple bioluminescent animals.

Ilya’s hand worms into theirs and Dahlia points out at the dim glow as the bright flashes of golden sun begin to cut across the water in a swath of dancing light. The few clouds above turn purple, pink, then red as the sun dips halfway below the horizon line. The purples and greens seem to intensify in its wake, and all along the darkening coast, the last flecks of orange light give way to purples and greens and intense sparkling gold all the way out to sea.

All Dahlia can see is Ilya’s face as she watches the lights replace each other, her dark skin catching each colour of the sea. She turns to make eye contact and all Dahlia can see are her green-grey eyes flecked with nearly imperceptible spots of gold, like sunbeams in a storm. Ilya cups her face and taps their foreheads together. “I love you.” She kisses Dahlia in the violet burn of the false sky with all of its glowing specks. Aside from a few grey clouds far off in the distance, the night sky and ocean seem to become one vast void of lights with no horizon to separate them.

Dahlia tries to think of something romantic to say to that but her eyes flutter shut and she focuses on the points of contact between them, on the heat of Ilya’s fingers running across her cheek and neck, still warm from the sun. She’s so happy she could cry.

“I love you too, smudge.” Dahlia grins as the kiss breaks and nuzzles into the crook of Ilyas neck, taking in the smell of sand and sun, of ink and paper. It smells like home.

They sit there forever as the lights sparkle and fade….

“I just think it’s dangerous what you’re doing.” Dahlia spits a little too harshly. She’s sitting up on the counter between the sink and the icebox while Ilya works furiously over the kitchen table. Paper and ink are spread everywhere in a map of words and glyphs, coded beyond anyone's comprehension. Ilya stops suddenly and looks up to her slowly, placing the quill down gently. “Yves, baby,” Ilya stands and walks over to Dahlia, forcing eye contact. “I understand,  But you’ve known for a long time that this is a huge part of me. Helping these people is a calling - especially-”

“-Because we’re in a position too, I know, I know, but still-” Dahlia interrupts the familiar...discussion, a swirl of bitter embarrassment wells up in her gut. “I just…there’s talk of a witch hunt in town this week. It’s got me on edge is all...I’m sorry smudge.”

“You are forgiven,” Ilya grins and runs her nimble stained fingers through Dahlia’s hair and cups her face. “I would never put either of us in danger, neither will Felix. I need you to trust me, and trust that I know what I’m doing.” She plants a kiss on her forehead and steps away back to her papers.

“I do.” Dahlia lies with a small smile. The guilt is thumping in time with her heartbeat, outmatched only by the dread building up in her chest, pooling hot and sickly just beneath her war wound - now scarred over. “I do.”

Outside the fall wind howls through the trees and splatters wet leaves against the shutters.

Dahlia knows in her soul, with unheard of clarity that she’ll always be okay, as long as she has Ilya.

------

Dahlia isn’t present for most of the winter. They don’t get snow as far south as they are but the freezing rains and grey skies take the warmth away. It's far too cold to swim and even the green grove at the beach is devoid of colour. Ilya is patient with her, used to the routine after three odd years of being together.

They work as a team maintaining the animals, even though there’s less to do on the farm it still takes much of the late morning before Ilya returns to her limited invoices and Dahlia can return to the comfort of the warm bedroom. She nestles into the covers and sleeps until she's woken by Ilya retiring to bed. This pattern continues for the whole season, broken only by the occasional illness, mostly on her part. But as the weeks proceed Ilya gets to bed later and later.

“Is everything alright?” Dahlia asks on one of her better days when her fever has gone down. “You seem so stressed, I’m sorry I haven't been he-” the apology is cut off by an abrupt kiss. Ilya holds her fast and close, a little tighter than necessary. She buries her head in the crook of Dahlia's neck in the centre of her chest and clings for a very long time.

“Hey, Ilya what’s wrong?” Guilt and fear swell up in her gut, she had been barely cohesive the past few months, and the idea that Ilya needed help while she was off living life underwater was wretched.

She clings a bit tighter, her voice muffled in Dahlia's chest. “...You know that I love you right? I love you and I would never do anything to hurt you?” She's shaking as she threads her hands under Dahlia's shirt for warmth, for proof of life. Dahlia is overcome with a deep sadness compounded by her recent emotional instability, a sob overcomes her and like a switch is flipped they are both sinking to the floor in a weepy embrace.

“Of course I know, and I love you too, of course I know.” Dahlia assures her as best as she can, “please Ilya, I love you so much but you’re kind of scaring me right now.” She holds Ilya out by her shoulders so they can look at each other. She looks exhausted, worn thin.

“Nothing’s wrong, baby, I’m just tired is all.” She seems to avoid eye contact but a smile comes to her lips trying to reassure. “I think we both need this winter to end.” Dahlia doesn’t know how to interpret this encounter and is really in no condition to, post-illness. At a loss, she also smiles and hugs her wife close. “Yeah.” They sit there for a while longer before the frigid air gets to  be too much, “common, let's go to bed, Smudge.” As Ilya proceeds, upstairs Dahlia takes a minute to lock up the house and close the curtains for the night. She glances at the documents on the table with little interest but can make nothing of the correspondence between Ilya and her customers. She slides away to lock the back porch, with one last look outside to make sure the barn door is closed.

Out on the lawn is a spot of red on the pale frosty grass. She steps outside to investigate in the as the sun dips below the trees. The shadows of the orchard reach out like long fingers towards the house. A line of ocher feathers connects the spattering of red to the treeline behind the fence. Beyond the thick oaks surrounding the property, something moves in the brush.

This isn’t the first time they’ve lost a chicken to wild animals, but the trail of gold feels so much like a bad omen that she can't help but shudder in the cold wind.

Dahlia inhales deeply, the sharp air cuts into her weakened lungs like glass. She diligently gathers water from the creek and washes most of the blood into the ground, then flicks the feathers off into the forest before turning in for the night. She double checks the locks on the door and doesn't tell Ilya about the chicken, she’s under enough stress already…

----

Spring rain comes, and with it a high the Dahlia still hadn’t gotten used too. She’s over-productive in many ways and a tad destructive in others but Ilya seems grateful to have her husband back in full health though she seems older despite high spirits.

“Let's plan a trip.” She suggests over lunch after the chores are done. “Oh yeah? Business or pleasure?” Dahlia looks away from the treeline, interested.

“Hmm…” Ilya leans over to rest her head on Dahlia’s shoulder, looking up into her dark eyes. “Most definitely pleasure.” She smiles and Dahlia couldn’t say no if she’d wanted too. “I think we should see the far west… just for a couple of weeks? Sebastien can watch the farm can’t he?”

“Why the sudden wanderlust, babe?”

Ilya inhales deeply, a weariness settling in her features, “I think we just need...a change of scenery is all…” they’d talked before, about going the way of Irene and Louann, shuttering the house and retiring to travel the countryside in their old age. Dahlia didn’t think would happen so soon, couldn’t fathom a nicer place to be, but something about this last winter had added years to Ilya’s face.

“If we butter him up first.” She kisses her wife on the head, noticing a grey hair here and there. “I think Sebas would be happy to get out of that dirt shack for a bit.”

“Oh yes, I think  so too.” Ilya agrees matter of factly, but Dahlia can hear the relief in her voice as they begin planning their trip...  

----

Two months before they leave something goes horribly wrong.

Dahlia wakes up alone for the first time in years. It's early spring, frost still threatens the grove, but the rains have started. It seems like a dream at first, she dresses like normal, an uncomfortable itch in the back of her throat. With sleep still clouding her vision, she makes it down the stairs to the first landing before she notices something is wrong. There’s mud tracked all over the stairs, looking up, she can see prints in the hallway as well. Not panicking she hurries downstairs.

“Smudge, is everything alright?” She yells as she descends, mind scrambling to come up with an explanation for the mess, perhaps they’d forgotten to take off their boots before tracking mud into the house last night? The papers on the tables are missing. “Ilya!”

Outside in the fresh spring mud are streaks of red and a trail of golden feathers.

The next few months are like one long nightmare, Dahlia can feel the life draining from her body every day.

She starts out fine. Terribly worried and angrier than she’s ever been in her life, but not panicked. Not for the first few hours.

It’s easy to piece together what happened. The boot tracks throughout the house, the missing cypher, the dead fowl. She begins the search on the grounds of the farm, fanning out from the house to circle the grove, then the property, then the beach. It's long after dark when she returns home shaking and wired and itching for violence. It’s not even a thought to grab at the bottles of wine on her way into the kitchen and spend the rest of the night awake, alternating between restless sleep and paranoid bargaining.

The rest of the week is a blur. She spends a great deal of time switching between overwhelming panic, unparalleled rage, and unwavering determination to find Ilya. She writes in a shaky hand to Felix and Sebastien, her words are basic and sharp and spelt wrong and barely legible, even to herself. Its nothing like Ilya’s deft grace and control. Dahlias used to not having the vocabulary to get her emotions across but the fact that she’s writing at all - she hopes - conveys the urgency that her words can’t.

She goes to town first, gives them the news, asks for help looking, for information, for sightings, for any kind of lead. Everyone offers their sympathies but remain ignorant of her whereabouts and no one seems to meet Dahlia's panic.  She has no new information and her sense of urgency only increases. Aside from the occasional comments about how she hasn’t quite been the same since ‘the accident’ Dahlia can’t find any trace outside of the farm that Ilya had ever existed at all.

Ilya is still in the house. Dahlia can see her sometimes, out of the corner of her eye, in the folds of the bedspread in the early morning, or in wafts of fresh ink that still circulate around the bannister. Like if she runs back upstairs, Ilya might be there, sitting at her desk by the window, crunching numbers and doodling in the margins of her notebook. She's not there though, not in any way that matters.

She tries to gather the remaining papers in Ilya’s study and the rest of the house. Whoever took her and her code didn’t seem to know it was there. It occurs to Dahlia that she likely can’t trust anyone, given the illegal nature of Ilya’s hobbies.

She trusts Felix with her life but stops herself from sending him the papers for fear that the information they hold will make him disappear into the night. She hides them instead when she’s sure no one is looking.

----

It’s been almost two weeks since Ilya’s been abducted and no one in town will mention her name. She hears people whispering behind their hands about how tragic it is that she’d been seduced by a witch and how tragic it is that she’s probably cursed, but mostly no one says anything at all and that feels worse. She knows she’s being watched, can see shapes in her peripheral but they always move before she can look at them.

Many of the memories are jumbled here, some of them could be dreams, many of them feel like hallucinations. There is one moment that stands out among the rest. Dahlia is sitting on the floor of her bedroom, unable to move. It feels like she's been through a meat grinder and one eye is swollen shut. She can feel a hot dripping down her face and neck. Above her stands a figure so still, it could be a shadow.

The figure snarls through an old gnarled scar across its nose. “Stop making trouble.” It warns as Dahlia’s vision fades out, then in again. It’s morning now, aside from her black eye there is no evidence that anyone else was in the house last night.

The dead animals keep piling up-it feels like one every day, one morning she wakes up to find the roof of the bard smouldering, the spring downpour likely smothered it in the night. She’s too stupid to stop asking questions, or care, or whatever.

They sneak into the house while she’s away or at night. They move things, take things, stand over her while she sleeps, weird shit like that. Sometimes she wakes up with bruises or cuts or really bad headaches, stuff that doesn’t just happen. Sebastien would probably say its stress, some kind of fucked up grieving process, but Dahlia knows better, she doesn’t give away where Ilya’s work is hidden.

Finally, they get sick of playing games and one night while she’s drunk off her ass because she can’t sleep anymore and her goddamn wife is missing, they break in and drag her out back behind the barn. They dig a hole and bury Dahlia in the mud. It’s not a whole six feet, but she sobers up pretty quick underground.

Dahlia hyperventilates for a long time. She watches her body struggle through someplace just above her, lodged in the fresh packed dirt above. The rain seeps down into the heavy soil and turns her grave into slick mud and the distant thunder rumbles the earth.  She doesn’t know how to get out, doesn’t know how close the surface is or even if she’s digging in the right direction. An unknowable amount of time passes but she can hear morning birds chirping through the roaring in her ears. Finally she breaks the surface, freezing and wet and delirious.

The morning mist collects and swirls at her feet. Her thin, quick breaths steam in the cool air as she vomits mud. Something is moving upstairs in the window of Ilya’s study. Trembling, she sloughs her mud-caked clothes off into a pile on the porch. She moves in slow motion through the house and stops at the bottom of the stairs. Shadows coalesce around an eerie red light striking the landing wall. Outside the sun is rising, there are no birds left to greet it.

It feels like it takes all morning to climb the stairs, she jumps and freezes at every noise. At the top, each step feels like walking through mud as she approaches the open study. Small tendrils of smoke curl upwards from burned spots in the floorboard. Nothing is on fire but the room smells of ash and ink. Her books are scattered around and torn up, her chair is knocked over and her utensils spilt. The smoke drifts from gouged lettering on the floor, and Dahlia has bad eyes but the words reach across the floor in terrible black letters.

S T O P

L O O K I N G

She can’t even clean it up, Dahlia just stomps out the wisps of smoke and shutters the window. She locks the door and hides the key away. It's impossible to be upstairs without seeing something out of the corner of her eye.

Thieve. Abductors. Undertakers. Ilya.

She stops going upstairs all-together, can’t even get near the bannister without dozens of eyes on her, peering out of the woodwork. Time bleeds together, she can’t sleep for the paranoia, for the bedsheets dragging her back underground, for Ilya watching her from the between the rails upstairs. she jumps at every sound regardless of the source. Her brain feels sick.

She keeps drinking and gets it into her head that maybe - well maybe if they had buried her, that they might have buried Ilya somewhere on the property. That maybe she was still alive underground this whole time, waiting for someone to find her.  Dahlia begins to dig holes in the yard because if they wouldn’t let her ask questions the least they could do was let her burn out trying to turn over the orchard looking for some kind of closure.

She knows it’s irrational but she feels hopeless and possessed, looking over the property they had built a life on and only seeing a ten-acre grave.

She digs during the day, at night she listens for intruders,  a part of her knows they will leave her alone now, knows that they’ve done all they need to do to keep her from asking questions, but the damage is done. In every shadow is a thief, every creaking floorboard warns him not to cause trouble.

----

Before Ilya became a cartographer she was raised on the bow. She’d been a decent shot but had ultimately preferred to explore over hunt, so she came to him with a lovely heirloom of a crossbow to be used as a party trick to win bets or scare off coyotes. Dahlia’s hands shake as she loads the bow, as she’d seen Ilya do a million times. She levels it at the door and waits through the night.

Sometimes when she’d drift off she would have dreams where it had all been a nightmare. Ilya would be next to her and she would just stay in bed and watch her sleep, watch her chest move when she breathed and the sun would cross the bedroom and then Ilya would wake with a mumble and Dahlia could think for just a minute that everything was alright.

They felt like a curse in her waking hours.

----

Days later Felix finds her, he’d been across the country working and dropped everything as soon as he’d gotten the letter, it still took weeks of travel to arrive. Dahlia has been beside herself for nearly a month and she almost puts a hole in her brother with her wife’s crossbow. She’s a terrible shot, but it gives Felix enough time to yank the bow from her hands and embrace her.  She panics at first, then realizes who it is. She cries for the first time in years.

Eventually, Sebastian arrives at Felix’s call.  The two pack up everything up while she mopes around and jumps at shadows. They try to get her to sober up too, but it doesn't take.  

She never sees the crossbow again.

It takes weeks to clean the mess, weeks to get Dahlia back into her right mind, Sebastien grounds her immensely with old stories while Felix makes arrangements. They are moving her off the farm, to the city with Felix. Dahlia watches numbly as they pack up everything into neat little boxes and scrape the dried mud from the floor. They leave the study alone.

-----

For the next few months, she lives with Felix in the city, recovering mostly, getting back into a normal sleep schedule. The noise helps, being around other people helps, Felix helps when he’s not at work. Slowly, she comes to accept that Ilya is gone, in order to live with that Dahlia also comes to accept that Ilya is dead, and takes the time to mourn properly.

Most of her time alone was something of a blur. She tries to explain to Felix what happened but so much of it was spent in the throes of a drunken paranoia that she isn’t really sure what was real and what was just a bad dream. Felix doesn’t force her to make the distinction even though that leaves a lot of gaps in the story.

In the end, Felix believes that there is some foul play at hand, but has no leads to pursue. Many words are explained, Dahlia has never yelled at her brother in genuine anger before but she's been so frustrated and scared and angry and drunk for weeks now and no one knows how to help. Felix takes it all with grace and pity on his face. He holds her close and she apologises.

They have a proper funeral at some point. Dahlia can’t remember it but she’s sure it was nice.

-----

Months pass and she slowly moves closer to herself. She doesn’t quite fit back into her body but the perspective is nearly the same, she thinks. Drinking helps somewhat.

Felix is very proud of her for finding her body again, though he doesn’t quite word it like that. He says things like “I am glad we are eating breakfast together,” or “It looks like you got some sun today!” In his cheery, relieved voice. Dahlia feels like a child, or a spooked animal being pitied, but something about Felix’s gentle way of handling her is comforting.

He wants her to stay as long as she needs too but Dahlia’s skin begins to crawl with wanderlust. She’s grateful for everything Felix has done for her but she feels like the world is stagnant now, with an absence of colour or sound. She bids Felix goodbye with solemn determination. Her brother is nervous and reluctant to let her go, but all the same optimistic that travel could be a good thing.

She knows that she’ll be okay, she always has Felix, after all.

----

She stops by the farmhouse before truly leaving, needs to say goodbye to it now that she’s said goodbye to Ilya. She goes in the middle of the day, alone. It stands solitary and warm in the summer sun, she can hear the creek babbling through the orchard and smell citrus on the breeze. Dahlia takes in the view, closes her eyes and inhales the smells of the property. She can still hear the wind-chime on the porch, made from small rocks and shells, there is laughter in the wind.

The holes she’d spent days digging up are still present, like scars on the property, though they have filled in somewhat from the rain and are grown over with grass now. In a few years, she knows, it will be like they were never there at all.

It feels like she’s just come home from the market as she slips in the backdoor easily, for just a moment, Ilya is sitting at the kitchen table, pouring over her work. She looks up with a smile on her face, they’re going on a trip soon.

Dahlia shudders and moves through the space, careful not to touch anything. It feels wrong how barren the rooms are, never in her years of living here has the place felt so empty, not even when the old birds had moved out. She avoids the stairs entirely to find some of Ilya’s papers in the spare room. Waves of melancholy wash over her, looking at their life together packed up in neat little boxes and stored away, it all feels so wrong.  She pulls a bundle of paper from a box, gently leafing through the parchment. It smells like home.

Dahlia spreads the papers over the kitchen table. She finds a vial of ink and a half dozen quills to place delicately between the pages of almanacs, half made maps, and first pass translations of various texts. She steps back with a nod, it isn’t quite the same as Ilyas organized chaos, but looking back at the kitchen as she locks the door, it feels like she’s still home, it feels less like bidding adieu and more like she’s just... going on a trip.  

----

The memory fades out and back in, she doesn’t experience first hand but knows that she spends the next few years wandering from city to city, revisiting old friends and customers from before the farm and the injury and the conscription. It’s easy to fall back into what she used to be, even if it doesn’t feel real. She stays out of the way of the law as best she can, avoids all talk of mages and witch hunts and crowns guards for fear of having to do it all over again. To repeat the last year of her life, she knows, will probably kill her.

She comes back into herself in a familiar apartment, a terrible melancholy interrupts her, a longing for this place that was her home inside a body that feels too tall, too wide, too different from hers. There is a resounding whiplash that stuns her as she sees her body, her real body leaning over her with a potion, pouring it into her leg wound that feels both numb and like white-hot pain at the same time.

She’s talking in a playful tone, telling him - telling Yves that she doesn’t need payment for the priceless potion in her hand.

“Just take me to that summer festival we talked about last night. Win me something nice, buy me snacks, whatever you can manage.”

Dahlia can tell Yves can’t remember what ‘last night’ means, but he doesn’t miss a beat in agreeing, Dahlia can feel in his gut that Yves will probably do whatever she asks of him (within reason) for the potion. But that's truly all she’d wanted at the time, and the world seems brighter for it, at least from his perspective.

The memory starts to fade there as if Yves had let it run too long on accident and hadn’t wanted her to see this far in. She fades out of his memory one last time and comes back into her real body, back in the kitchen. It feels like the breath has been knocked out of her for a long moment. Yves slaps the box shut the second she pulls away. He looks absolutely perplexed - on his end the whole thing took less than a minute, not the months that Dahlia had experienced.

“Is it really supposed to be that fast?” Yves mumbles to Namir, who is nearly in Dahlia's lap in worry, he paws her potion closer to her hands. “It feels so much longer from the other side.”

“Hey fireball, you doing alright?” He leans back a bit to give her some breathing room, remembering how claustrophobic he’d been coming out of her memory box.

[alexboehm55144]

Alex Final Wars 2: Dark Alex, Chapter 8 - The Korean Campaign

Hello everyone! Hopefully, 2019 is off to a good start for people! I'm debating whether or not I should put this story on AO3. What do you guys think? Should I do that? Let me know, but you guys are here for the story, so here you go!

000000000

2 US allies, South Korea and Japan, were in close proximity to China, and because of that, they were being hit hard by Chinese forces. South Korea was taking slightly more punishment, as the only thing separating it and China was the country of North Korea, which unfortunately had already aligned itself with the Chinese. Luckily the typhoon was arriving in South Korea, with the objective of its crew being to relieve some of the pressure on the military forces in the area. As a sign of patriotism, a US flag had been painted on the side of the typhoon.

The ship landed in a secluded area where it could remain hidden, and Alex, Toothdee, Kion, and Jasiri disembarked.

“Ah, South Korea,” Alex said, taking a deep breath of air “home of D.va, and music groups with way too many members.”

The captain still found wonder in visiting a new place, even though he had done a lot of traveling in his life.

“I expected more destruction,” Kion said, “North Korea is always talked about as a rogue state and a hermit kingdom.”

“Intel from Jack & Skye indicates that they did launch missiles towards the United States, but they were taken down by our iron dome missile defense systems.” toothdee explained, “However we should be wary of the capacity for nuclear weapons the country possesses.”

“Those missiles may have contained nuclear warheads, and that worries me like you wouldn’t believe.” Alex hypothesized “I’m afraid that the weapons we have created may be our undoing.

“The US does possess more nukes than North Korea, so they could have decided not to use nuclear weapons. Although as Kion says, they are a fanatic rogue state, and it wouldn’t be surprising if they did launch nukes. We should probably treat those missiles like they do contain warheads.”

“Maybe China is holding them back, but let’s hope the situation doesn't escalate to the point where nuclear annihilation becomes a possibility. Otherwise, there is a chance....” the captain took a breath to calm his nerves. “A large portion of the world & billions of people, including us, will be obliterated.”

There was the honk of a horn and a soldier in a Jeep pulled up, ready to drive the team to a forward operating base.

“What’s the situation,” Alex said, as the team got into the vehicle and it drove off. They were nervous about having a rogue state with nuclear weapons out there in the middle of a war between superpowers. However, the group had to push through their worry, no matter how much it bothered them.

“North Koreans are pushing hard on the border, we’re barely managing to hold them back.” the soldier driving the team said. “Their technology isn’t the best, but they have blind fighting fury and give 100% in a firefight.”

“We need to protect the city of Seoul.” Toothdee said, checking her weapons “we can’t let the people there get hurt.”

“The City is gone.” the soldier said “the North Koreans wiped it completely off the map with artillery strikes. Thank god they didn’t use a nuke.”

“Did you managed to evacuate any civilians?!” Jasiri frantically asked.

“We got a lot of them out.... but there were still many left when the initial bombardment hit. Unfortunately, we don’t have the manpower to run a full search and rescue operation.”

“Home team please respond,” Alex said, contacting the typhoon.

“It’s Judy, we read you.”

“Patch me through to a team-wide broadcast.”

There was a short pause while Judy completed this request.

“Attention all team members,” Alex said, “I need you to gather up medical equipment and emergency supplies and head into what's left of Seoul.”

“What’s left of Seoul?” Eris said

“Correct, the whole city is destroyed, and our army doesn’t have the manpower for a full search and rescue operation. You have to go into the city and rescue as many people as you can.”

There was a slight pause, Alex assumed it was disbelief from the whole city being wiped out.

“It will be done!”

“We’re on it!”

“Affirmative!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Alex said, “I’ll send you the location of a US medical camp.”

The Jeep came out of the forest and the team was clearly able to see the wreckage of Seoul in the distance. Rubble was strewn about, and skyscrapers had huge chunks missing from them. The away team hopped their allies would find anyone trapped in the city. The team then pulled into a US firebase, while the sounds of gunfire and artillery explosions were heard clearly throughout the air.

“I feel bad for the animals in the demilitarized zone.” Alex said, “so many species that only exist there, just wiped off the map by this war.”

The group was directed inside the base, where an officer had a holographic table set up, displaying friendly troops in blue, and hostile troops in red.

Alex spotted a nearby technician and quickly went over to her.

“I need the location of the medical camp for a search and rescue operation.”

“Here, sending you the location now.” the technician said, typing away on a computer gauntlet that was embedded in the arm of her uniform.

Alex checked his own gauntlet and saw that he had received the location, before sending it to his allies and walking over to the officer at the table.

“We’re about to be overrun,” the officer said, “I’m gonna call a retreat.”

The ground shook as an artillery shell landed nearby

“No, we can push them back, we can drive them away and lessen the pressure on your forces,” Alex said, examining the holographic table.

“How can 4 operatives deal with dozens of Nork soldiers?”

“Do you have any heavy armor?”

“Yeah, outside, defending this place.”

“We might need to borrow those.”

The team was lead outside to a pair of tanks, and upon arrival, they traded places with the tank crews. Alex and Kion got in one tank, while Jasiri and Toothdee got in the other.

Alex would be driving the tank, while Kion would be the gunner. The lion was a little nervous about taking control of a tank for the first time in a real combat situation, but Alex calmed his fears.

“Don’t worry Kion, It’s just like a video game.”

The 2 tanks started up and began to move straight towards the North Korean positions.

“Alright,” Captain Boehm said “there are a couple of artillery guns shelling that firebase. Toothdee, Jasiri, you deal with them. Kion & I will take out an incoming convoy of enemy soldiers.”

“Roger that.”

“For the United States!” Alex yelled as a rallying cry.

Kion spotted a group of hostile soldiers and mowed them down with his machine gun, while Alex used the cannon to take out another group of soldiers. Jasiri and Toothdee also took down a few groups of soldiers, before the 2 tanks parted ways and headed to their secondary objectives.

“That convoy should be arriving any second,” Alex said, driving the tank down a dirt road. As if on cue, 3 enemy trucks appeared, heading towards the tank. Boehm opened fire with the cannon, destroying one truck and causing a second one to lose control and crash. The third truck tried to flee, but Kion opened fire into its back, killing all the soldiers inside.

But it was too early to celebrate, as a North Korean tank appeared heading up the road, and hit Alex and Kion’s tank with a cannon shot.

“Nork armor!”

Alex quickly fired at the tracks, immobilizing the tank, while Kion kept up suppressing fire on enemy infantry. Boehm circled the hostile tank, avoiding its main gun, before firing 2 more shots that caused the tank to explode.

“I didn’t expect that thing to go down so quickly,” Kion said, clearly confused. “But then again, That was a Soviet-era tank.”

“Stay sharp, there’s still infantry in the area.”

“Then let’s take care of them!”

000

Everyone else on the typhoon, save for Retsuko and Haida, had hopped into vehicles and raced into the destroyed city of Seoul.

JayJay was acting as the de facto leader, ordering everyone else to search buildings and making sure no time was wasted.

Jack, Skye, Nick, and Judy were using their smaller frames to get into areas the other team members couldn’t. Laval plugged orb of chi into his armor and powered up, using his increased strength to easily clear heavy debris. Eris was using her jet to hover and lift extremely heavy pieces of wreckage out of the way.

Once one of the team members located someone, they usually called for help, before getting the survivor out of the rubble, checking them for wounds, and getting them into one of the trucks they drove into the city.

With her enhanced hearing, JayJay heard crying from some nearby wreckage. Looking into the rubble, she found a young child with tears going down her face. It pained her immensely to see a child in a sorry state like this.

“Hello, sweetie.”

The child looked up at JayJay and stopped crying, before the wolf calmly extended a paw, and pulled the child up into the light.

“Come to me, are you ok?” The wolf said, checking the child for wounds. She noticed that the child clutched a small blue anthropomorphic wolf plushie.

“No wonder she calmed down after seeing me.” JayJay thought.

“Get down!” Someone yelled, prompting Jay to look up to see black streaks in the sky, indicating artillery shells headed for their position. Eris quickly flew out of the way to avoid being shot down, while JayJay grabbed the child and took cover under a large piece of concrete.

The wolf held the child close as explosions went off nearby. Once the bombardment had ceased, JayJay looked towards the position the artillery fire had come from and noticed many North Korean cannons

The wolf hoped the away team would take down that gun site soon before another bombardment tore through the decimated city.

000

Alex and Kion had received word of an artillery gun emplacement shelling the team in Seoul, and now they were racing to shut down those guns while eliminating any North Korean troops they saw.

So far the pair was doing great work, having taken out dozens of enemy troops. However, their luck took a turn for the worse when Alex spotted the black streaks of artillery shells tearing through the sky.

“Incoming!”

The shells rained down on the tank, throwing Alex and Kion around, but thankfully not breaching the hull of the tank. Alex tried desperately to get the tank moving once the bombardment had ceased, but the vehicle was unresponsive.

“Damnit! Tracks are damaged! She won’t go!”

Kion swore under his breath while Alex ushered him to get out of the tank, as a second bombardment would be incoming, and they couldn’t stay here.

The pair disembarked the tank before Alex spotted more black streaks heading for them.

“Run!”

Alex and Kion sprinted at top speed, while artillery shells rained down on their position, causing trees to fall and dirt to fly into the air.

In the chaos, Alex and Kion got separated, and the captain had to focus on sliding under crumbling trees and shielding his face from thrown up rocks. Once the bombardment stopped, Alex looked around for Kion but didn’t see him. However, he did see the North Korean artillery guns that were shelling Seoul.

It appeared that a US force had attacked this site recently and failed, as there were dead US soldiers everywhere, and even a US Humvee that still appeared to be in working condition. There was also a damaged artillery cannon that had been thrown over on its side.

Suddenly gunfire sounded throughout the air and the hostile soldiers went on high alert. Looking around, Alex spotted Kion, covered in cuts and burn marks, cutting down North Korean soldiers.

“No point in being quiet.” Alex thought, before engaging the enemy troops and taking cover behind the downed artillery gun.

2 heavily armored soldiers carrying LMGs began pinning Alex down, but he noticed that the artillery cannon he was hiding behind was still ready to fire, and the barrel was aimed right at the hostile soldiers pinning him down. Finding the firing mechanism, Alex activated the cannon and sent a shell right into the North Korean troops, wiping them out.

Spotting a cannon in an elevated position, The captain made a break for the gun, shooting the 2 hostile soldiers on guard, then taking control of the cannon, aiming, and firing at the enemies pinning Kion down. The lion ran from cover and joined his companion.

“Load another shell!” The captain yelled, to which Kion obliged.

Once the cannon was loaded again, Alex fired at a group of artillery guns, igniting the ammo crates and causing a chain reaction that destroyed the entire group of weapons and ammunition, as well as many enemy troops.

“Tank!” Kion yelled as the armored vehicle rolled into view. Alex fired upon the vehicle, blowing its turret off and rendering it useless.

Alex directed his fire to 2 more groups of artillery guns, turning them both into smoldering husks of metal. A North Korean helicopter appeared and opened fire with its door mounted gun. But after taking a shot from the cannon, the aircraft exploded and crashed to the ground.

A pair of US fighter jets streaked across the sky, gunning down a mass of infantry and dropping bombs.

“Another tank!” Kion yelled. Alex fired at another group of artillery guns near the tank, and the resulting blast managed to engulf and destroy the vehicle

Kion loaded the cannon again and Alex aimed downwards to fire another shot at the tank to make sure it was destroyed. However all of a sudden the captain was spun around and punched in the face by a North Korean soldier wearing an officer’s uniform. Kion was busy brawling with a heavily armored soldier, who was managing to land some pretty good punches on the lion. The commander kicked Alex over a sandbag barricade and he tumbled down a small dirt incline in front of the cannon.

The commander quickly hopped the barricade and drew his pistol. Alex jumped up and tried another melee strike, but the commander blocked the attack and headbutted Alex, forcing him back down to the ground. The North Korean commander lined up a killing shot before the artillery cannon fired.

Alex instinctively covered his face, but when he looked back at the commander, he saw the officer staring at his arm, or rather where it used to be, before falling to the ground.

Kion came out from behind the artillery cannon and gave a wave to Alex before the captain picked himself up off the ground and headed behind the cannon to see the knocked out heavy soldier.

“Open the breach.”

Kion followed suit and Alex tossed a thermite grenade in, before closing the cannon. The grenade began to melt the breach shut, destroying the gun, while the pair of heroes walked away.

Alex spotted the still operational Humvee from earlier, and the pair hopped inside.

“We did good work for the United States today.” the captain said while Kion started up the vehicle.

“All in a day's work of fighting for freedom.”

“Now let’s get to that medical camp, see how everyone’s doing.”

000

The city team had rescued dozens of civilians from the wreckage of Seoul and were now dropping off the injured at the nearby US medical camp. Jasiri and Toothdee had arrived and was helping the city team unload the wounded into a tent that was already full of soldiers and medics checking out survivors.

JayJay and Toothdee carried a man with a broken leg into the tent and handed him off to 2 awaiting medical personnel.

“That’s everyone,” Laval said, breathing a sigh of relief as the team grouped up. “Thank the legend beats we got to them. Feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest”

“Everyone is safe now, no ones in danger,” Jack said

“Hey!” Someone yelled “Let’s hear it for these guys saving all these people! Go, Heroes!”

Cheers broke through the tent, as emergency personnel and civilians alike clapped and yelled.

“You go, Heroes!”

“You saved my life, I’m forever in your debt.”

“No one else could have rescued as many people as you did.”

Alex and Kion arrived and headed into the main tent to be greeted by the cheering. Jasiri turned around and saw Kion, and quickly wrapped him in a hug upon seeing his burns and cuts. The hyena took out a wipe from her medical kit and began cleaning Kion’s face and wounds while staring into the lion’s eyes.

The assembled people started chanting.

“HEROES! HEROES! HEROES!”

“I take it you guys did well?” Alex said, giving a hi-five to Toothdee and JayJay.

“Yep, the North Koreans are on the retreat,” Toothdee said.

“And we rescued dozens of people!” JayJay added.

This victory had boosted the team’s morale and demonstrated their strength.

“Good work people,” Alex said, “we saved a lot of lives today.”

000000000

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Please leave a review if you think I'm doing something wrong, or could be doing something better. Thank you for reading!