#shes still young so its a Little hard to conclusively tell

[bitchfitch]

we're still in the early stages of acclimation but Missus Gummy Vitamin is starting to color up a bit and actually flair out her fins and i just have to say: I'm not changing her name or what pronouns i use for her

[izzabela]

Hi there! Can you write about the female reader being adopted into the Lin Kuei family (similar to Tomas) and was raised along the Lin Kuei trio, Kuai Liang develops romantic feelings for the reader but doesn't know and understand those feelings until years later Kuai Liang overhears one of the earthrealm's champions trying to ask the reader on a date?

Set My Heart Ablaze - Kuai Liang x fem!reader

in which Kuai Liang finally understands the slight ache in his chest every time he sees you

a/n: i love the premise, but i'm tweaking it a bit since adopted siblings are a grey area

ship[s]: kuai liang x fem!reader

warning(s): story deviation?

i seriously would not mind being in between him and bi han

=====================

Before the first signs of his fire powers manifested, Kuai Liang always noted the odd feeling in his chest whenever he saw you.

First meeting as children, probably no more than five years old, Kuai Liang always felt that little beat in his chest. You and Kuai Liang became fast friends, practically inseparable as your childhood played out.

From doing little play-spars, to eating, napping, and playing, you two were always together doing something.

Kuai Liang remembers him telling Bi Han and his father about the "weird feeling" in his chest. His father told him it was him playing too hard, while Bi Han teased him for liking a girl. Heck, even Harumi, when she was able to visit, would always ask him about his "new friend".

Of course, when Tomas was adopted, you and Kuai Liang integrated him to create the trio of mischief. At that time, he wasn't fluent in the language, but Kuai Liang mentally sighed as he realized even he looked between you and him like he liked you.

As you and Kuai Liang grew up, you two grew closer. From little kids who'd chase each other around one another's homes, you guys had become teenagers who would train with one another. More changes came along with the passage of time: his powers had come to him, your own magic came as well, learning the ways of both your clans, more responsibilities, training.

Not to mention puberty.

Though both of you still rather young, it was clear to Kuai Liang that you were going to flourish into something beautiful. Your body was experiencing changes, like how you grew taller. Your eyes began to sparkle a little more, and the air around you seemed... softer.

Over all, you just grew more pretty in Kuai Liang's eyes, and that same feeling in his chest kept clawing at him.

To keep himself focused, he came to the conclusion that this feeling was a side effect to his pyro powers. In order to master them, he needed to truly focus- and that meant isolation until he could get it right. As he honed his powers during that time, Kuai Liang noted that the thumping went away. Maybe he got it right, until you sent him a letter.

The rhythmic feeling came back, this time doubled its speed. He had to get it checked by the mages in the palace, but they concluded no magic resided in the ink or parchment. It was strange, and it kept Kuai Liang's mind muddled with thoughts and what-ifs. When he confided to his family about it, it was a mixed bag of reactions.

"Your magic is reactive, so cease any feelings not related to mastering your magic," Bi Han scolded him. Tomas was a bit kinder, though.

"Perhaps you need rest, your magic is a lot harder to control."

That was but many years ago. Now, here you were, with him and his brothers watching you spar Raiden as part of a joint training session pushed by Lord Liu Kang. In the many centuries he had been doing this, he had called upon your clan to role-play Empress Sindel's daughters in spars.

This time would be no different.

Kuai Liang watched as you held deadly metal fans in your hands. You stood against Kung Lao, who also bore a deadly weapon as part of everyday use. He watched as you circled one another, before Kung Lao practically pounced at you.

You moved like water, fluid as you dodged everything he threw at you. You were practically dancing as you parried his attacks, blocked, or threw your own arms and legs at him. He was lost in a trance at you impeccable skills, awed by your talent, and stumped by your undeniable beauty as you downed the farm boy.

Kung Lao was flat on his back on the ground. His head was pinned between the dagger-fans, and his hat was in your hands and against his neck. No, you weren't cutting him, simply cornering him until he conceded- which he finally did after a groan and a hefty sigh.

Kuai Liang's chest had been going at it all day, but the sight of you helping Kung Lao up with the same face you always gave him made his chest squeeze tighter than ever. He tried to keep the knotting feeling at bay, but it was too much for him. So much for fire magic mastery.

His hand is on Bi Han's shoulder, gripping it tightly as he doubles over and begins to heave for air. It's constricting, like someone keeping him in a chokehold in the air. It's so bad that everyone begins to look over at them, including you.

"Are you alright, brother?" He asks with a hint of worry in his gravely voice.

Kuai Liang shakes his head, "I am fine, just the magic." Bi Han is skeptical, but he accepts it.

Tomas's anxiety is more evident in his voice. "Are you ill? Do you need to head to the infirmary?"

Kuai Liang tries to answer again, but his eyes accidentally catch the concern in yours. You approach him slowly, like one does a frightened animal, but he just turns away and leans on Tomas to take him up on his offer.

"Brother, we are taking our leave," Tomas announces. You're shocked at how quickly Kuai Liang rejects you, but you bow to them in respect as you watch Tomas carry a limping Kuai Liang with a worried Bi Han trailing behind them.

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

Kuai Liang wakes up to a mixture of hushed whispers from within and outside the infirmary. He blinks the blurriness from his eyes, and he sits up to be met with his brothers at the bedside.

"Agh," he groans, holding his head. Bi Han just tuts his tongue, getting up from his seat to get some stuff. Tomas smiles in relief, sighing as he gets closer.

"Oh thank goodness you're awake!" he says happily. "You crashed right before we entered the infirmary, and you began to overheat to the point I almost burned."

Kuai liang chuckles nervously. "Apologies, brother. Are you alright?" Tomas just nods, and Bi Han comes in with his own words.

"If it weren't for me, Tomas would have been on a bed as well." Bi Han sits back down on the bedside chair, dipping the rag in cold water and slapping it (yes, slapping it) on Kuai Liang's forehead. He sighs at the coolness, sinking back into bed once more.

He's relaxed, sitting in the comfortable silence of his brothers, but he picks up on a couple of voices outside the infirmary. There's a window right above his bed, and it's cracked just enough for him to hear the conversation outside.

It seems Tomas and Bi Han notice his behavior as well, vigilantly watching Kuai Liang's expressions as the wind carries the voices.

"Not everyone who smiles at you is in love, Johnny," a semi-deep voice scolds. "Besides, when will we possibly have free time for you to take her anywhere?"

Kuai Liang's eyebrows go up ever so slightly, but he keeps his breathing steady to make sure his chest doesn't beat him into a stupor.

"Come on, Ken doll," Johnny says, "We could just eat privately from everyone else during lunch! All I gotta do is ask."

Kuai Liang is nervous, especially since he thinks he knows where the conversation is going, but he doesn't want any emotions to take over until he gets the bigger picture.

He hears your name coming from a youthfully arrogant voice, and that's when everything becomes clear.

"She is too good for you," Kung Lao interjects. "If she is anything like a clan leader, she will reject you on the spot."

Johnny scoffs, "That's why we call it 'shooting your shot', but you wouldn't know since I'm the one who'll do it first, Razor-rang."

Kuai Liang shuts the window with a harsh thud, but it doesn't filter out the fight between Kung Lao and Johnny over you. He closes his eyes and tries to control his breathing that gets more haggard every second. One hand over his heart and another on his head, he's hyperventilating as the thudding in his chest grows more and more incessant.

"B-Brother?" Tomas stutters as he removes the blankets over him, "Kuai Liang, talk to us!"

Bi Han's palms are immediately hovering over his body, emitting a bit of frost and snow to try and cool him down. There's a burning smell that comes from Kuai Liang, and the sweat coming from his body only adding more fuel to the fire (haha punny).

It isn't until Bi Han literally freezes a part of Kuai Liang's arm that he snaps out of his fiery episode.

"Kuai Liang! What in the realms!" Bi Han scolds as he sits his brother up against some stacked pillows. The heat from Kuai Liang's body is melting his arm, but it doesn't stop his thoughts.

Ask her out? Kuai Liang thinks. Again, that stupid thumping racks his ribs at the thought of of you out on a date with one of them- especially Johnny.

His mind plays visions of you laughing at something the actor says, the sound of your laughter not his anymore. It flashes to your smile, but it isn't directed at him.

As Kuai Liang steadies his breathing, Bi Han is the first to piece everything together.

"Is it her?" Bi Han asks as your name slips from his mouth.

Bi Han is frustrated when Kuai Liang shakes his head and plays an excuse.

"As stated before, jus' my magic," his voice slurred just a bit.

Bi Han just groans again, and it is Tomas who tries to egg him on, playing off Bi Han's idea.

"I did hear that she'll be going on a date soon. Raiden did mention to me that Kung Lao would be planning to ask her out..."

Tomas hit the sweet spot with that one. Kuai Liang's chest squeezes once more, and he takes deep breaths to try and alleviate his heart burn.

Bi Han and Tomas have never had a moment like this before. Their usually level-headed brother, one with perfect battle plans and proper thinking, was lost and disheveled at the mere mention of your name.

Scratch that, not even mention. The sight of you, the smell of you, the look of you. He had been felled by love, a double-edged sword if not properly handled.

And right now, the sword was cutting him deep.

"You are... in love with her?" Bi Han asks carefully.

At this declaration, all of Kuai Liang's memories of you and him come flooding in like a tidal wave. Strong, powerful, and overwhelming, it ironically soothed the pain he had in his chest. Dulling it completely until he felt a new rhythm in it.

His heart boomed with a quick, but not suffocating, rhythm at the thought of you. His eyes were soft, his breathing stable, and he sunk into the comfort of his pillows as he stared into the ceiling.

"Oh," is all he manages to say.

Tomas wears the shock all over his face, while Bi Han stares with a singular raised brow. They turn to one another before looking back at Kuai Liang.

Was that all it took for him to finally piece together his own feelings?

As Bi Han and Tomas are busy cleaning up, they hear a knock on the door. Kuai Liang is silent as he hears your soft voice speak to his kin.

"I brought food for him," you say in a hushed voice. "Knowing him, he must be starved."

He sits up again and meets your eyes. Shining like stars, you smile brightly as you sat down next to his thighs on the edge of the bed. In between you two are rice balls and steamed buns, and in a bakers dozen. Thirteen each food, all for you two to share.

"How are you?" You ask him as you took a bite of the steamed bun. "You looked so... nervous earlier. Are you alright?"

Kuai Liang nods dumbly as his body is on autopilot. He begins to eat a rice ball robotically, and Bi Han rubs his temple in disappointment.

"U-uh, we'll be taking our leave!" Tomas announces as he bows. He takes his brother's wrist and walks out, leaving you a little sad as you wanted to share the food.

"Poo..." you huff. "More for us!"

It's quiet between you two, but it isn't awkward. The beating in Kuai Liang's chest, you both keep eating away at the food until he takes a break to inform you of some interesting news.

"Kung Lao seems to have an eye for you," he says. "The actor as well. He plans to ask you to a private dinner."

Your eyes are wide at first, then you break down into hysterical laughter. Kuai Liang smiles nervously, but you just keep going in your fit of amusement.

"Funny you are, Kuai Liang. I mean, where did you hear that?" As you wipe your eyes from the tears of joy, you're met with the confident stare of Kuai Liang's eyes. Still, you are innocent to how he actually feels, and you continue to provoke him with your thoughts.

"Perhaps I will accept just because. Perhaps someone will win a bet with my boldness." Kuai Liang huffs at you with a glare, and you're shocked to say the least.

"I only jest, my friend." You go back to eating your food, and the ambience is awkward.

Kuai Liang, without thought or warning, slams his food down and moves closer to you. Shuffling out of his seat, he sits right next to you, and he takes your hand to place it over his heart. You gasp at how warm he is, despite the many layers that are between him and his body. You're very close to him, smelling the natural scent of burned lumber on his body as he tilts your chin up.

"Kuai... what is this?" you ask quietly, almost breathlessly, as you focus in on that rhythm in his chest. His heart, racing and pulsating, moves even faster at your tender touch. Kuai Liang responds just as softly.

"Do you feel this?" he asks you. "Do you feel what you do to me?" he's motioning you to the feeling in his chest. Dumbly, you nod, unable to focus as all the fine details of the assassin are right in front of you.

His deep brown eyes stare at you deeply, and you can see the little scars and scabs from years of battle. His brows, usually in one position, are softened and relaxed. And dear oh dear, his lips are thick and full, kissable- wait, did you really think about that?

"Your heart beats," you answer the obvious. "But... why is that an issue? Is it your magic?"

He shakes his head, "I guess, one could say it is magic. However, it is all you. Your smile, your laughter, presence, everything has a magic bind over me."

If you were shocked before, you'd probably have a heart attack by now. This was a hearty confession, one he had kept for years, and you'd also be lying if you said you didn't have a crush on him as well.

"So then... it isn't your magic?" you tease him, patting his chest lightly. He chuckles and moves his hand from under your chin to your cheek.

"You set my heart ablaze, my dear." Your own heart probably exploded right about now. It doesn't stop you as you move your other free hand to his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you give him the confirmation he had been looking for.

The healing spell to his chest problems, if you will.

"Give it to me, your heart," you whisper confidently. "I'll keep the flame alive for as long as I live."

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

bonus scene:

Tomas smelled something funny when he went to check on Kuai Liang after he and Bi Han left.

As a hunter, he developed a great sense of smell, and he was very useful to his family before the accident. He could smell when it was going to rain, whether threats lurked, or if there was game near by. He could also smell the scents of people.

As he, Bi Han, you, and Kuai Liang stood side by side, outside watching the champions train in a 2v2 match, the wind carried a scent he never thought he would smell in his lifetime.

By the elder gods, you two had sex when he left.

He keeps a brave face on, using his hand to over his nose and mouth to seem like he was in deep thought, but his nose couldn't lie. The pheromones of his brother's natural smell and yours were mixed in the air, and it was suffocating as the stench was stronger than any screen of smoke he had released.

"Does anyone smell that?" he asks to test the waters, but you and his brothers shake your heads.

There were times he wanted his untrained nose back- this was one of them.

He sighs as he keeps up the façade.

I think I might meet my end here, he thinks.

=====================

why was kuai liang hard to write for LOLOL

no yapping today, still trying to finish my requests

see y'all in the next fic!

[babyblue711]

Loyalty

Aemond Targaryen (HOTD) x Alys Rivers - Part 2 Including the conclusion of its sister story, Little Dragonseed Summary: Aemond, in his quest for vengeance, torches the Riverlands while Alys is but an unwilling passenger with a burning secret of her own. Meanwhile, back at Harrenhal, the little maid waits for her rescuer, but war-torn Westeros may have other plans in store for her. Words: 3.6K

Chapter Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content 18+, Canon Divergence, War things A/N: As noted, there is canon divergence in this story; there is no Sabitha Frey, and, for the purpose of this tale, the timeline may be a little wonky. Perhaps it's just me, but I broke my own heart writing this. I hope you all enjoy. Comments, reblogs, thoughts, opinions are welcome and appreciated 😘 💙 And, thank you, to my amazing beta reader and incredible gif maker, @myfandomprompts who made the Aemond banner for me.

<<< Part 1

They flew.

And the realm burned.

And on they soared upon ancient wings… 

And burned. Burned. Burned.

Any settlement in the Riverlands sworn to Queen Rhaenyra met their downfall, becoming kindling for Aemond’s wrath. Nothing could stand against Vhagar’s flames as she left ashes and despair in their wake. 

Riding on dragonback was a breathtaking experience; there was an exhilarating power in soaring through the sky, close to the heavens, far removed from the hellish war-torn realm below. But she could not enjoy it, her awe was constantly overshadowed by Aemond’s unyielding anger.

He had brought her along purposefully, but for all the notice he took of her, she might as well have been invisible and her attempts at calming his relentless rage were futile. He seemed interested in one thing and one thing only: her visions of the future and the path he should take forward. When she couldn’t summon an immediate answer, his response was simply to enact revenge on the supporters of the Black Queen. Unable to sway him, she remained silent, an unwilling passenger caught in the storm of his vengeance.

They did not return to Harrenhal and, instead, survived off the land. Luckily, she possessed a deep knowledge of edible plants and fungi and they had no trouble catching game. They bathed in a freshwater river and, in the evenings, Vhagar’s fiery breath cooked their suppers and provided warmth against the chill of the night. 

Aemond barely spoke to her, his mind consumed by grief and rage, his ego shattered by Daemon and the black faction at the insurmountable loss of King’s Landing. The once prideful, arrogant young man was becoming a shadow of the fierce prince she had known, his calculating eye now vacant and haunted as he worried obsessively about what had become of his family he left behind.

During one of their many silent nights, as they sat around the fire, the urge to speak to him gnawed at her. She knew she should tell him the truth, but the timing felt impossibly wrong. 

She needed to tell him that they had succeeded. She had suspected for a little while now, but wanted to wait to make absolutely sure. Now that time had passed, it was hard to keep this knowledge to herself.

But how could she share this revelation when his heart was still so torn? She watched him from across the fire, his face illuminated by the dancing flames, feeling the weight of her secret press down on her. 

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the inevitable. “My prince,” she began softly, her voice almost swallowed by the crackling fire. He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “There’s something you need to know…”

“A vision?” he asked, immediately perking up, his interest piqued. She pressed her lips together as she moved around the fire to sit on his good side; Would that be all he would ever care about? Is that all she meant to him? 

She chose not to voice these thoughts, instead gently taking his warm hand into her own. Her touch seemed to surprise him, a flicker of emotion crossing his face; they had not been intimate since they left Harrenhal. He turned to look at her fully for the first time in what felt like ages and she felt breathless under the intensity of his gaze, as if he were truly seeing her again.  

“No… not quite,” she replied, trying not to feel discouraged as she saw his face fall. She decided to get it over with quickly, the words tumbling from her mouth. “I…I am with child. Your child, my prince.” She placed her free hand over her lower belly for emphasis, giving him a small smile at this precious news, waiting with bated breath for his reaction.

Aemond's gaze hardened, his eye narrowing as he processed her words. His nostrils flared, and a tense silence hung between them, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she waited for him to speak.

“Ar– are you not pleased? Your bloodline will endure…” she started to say, her voice faltering.

“A bastard. That is what we have made together,” he interrupted, disappointment etched into every line of his exquisite face as his frown deepened, twisting his sensuous lips into a grimace as his words cut through her like a knife.

“Aemond,” she began again, her voice more determined, “this child is part of your legacy. The blood of the dragon flows through his veins. Does that not mean something to you?”

He pulled his hand away from hers, standing up abruptly and pacing by the fire, his mind clearly torn.

“Legacy…” he mutters, almost to himself. “What legacy do I leave in this world of ashes and betrayal? My family doesn’t even know about you…what would my mother say– ?”

She rose to her feet, moving towards him, needing him to understand.

“Their opinions matter little now, what’s done is done. A child is a blessing, Aemond, no matter who its parents are,” Alys said softly but firmly, running her hand over his arm and feeling relief when he doesn’t pull away. “I implore you to listen to me. I carry the child of Aemond Targaryen, Prince Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and Dragonrider of the mighty Vhagar. If it bothers you that we are unmarried then do what’s best for the sake of your son, Aemond. Marry me,” she pleads, her eyes shining with sincerity. “I long to be your loving wife, to stand by your side. I will help you achieve greatness, and ensure our child not only endures but thrives, following in your footsteps to rule the Seven Kingdoms. Together, we can end this war.”

Aemond looked lost, his gaze still fixed on the dancing flames of the fire, the light flickering across his face, highlighting the lines of worry and doubt etched into his features.

“How do you know I will rule?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with uncertainty.

“I have seen it, my prince,” Alys replied, her tone filled with conviction. She leaned closer, her hand still resting on his arm, drawing strength from the contact.

“Daemon is your one last, true foe. You will defeat him, how could you not? He is old and well past his prime. Caraxes is no match for the might of Vhagar. I have seen your victory in the clouds when we fly high on Vhagar’s back. There will be a battle above a great lake; I have seen him fall into the water and be swallowed by their depths.” Her voice gained a fervent edge as she continued, painting a vivid picture of the future she envisioned. “You will rule and be a mighty king, my prince, and I already carry your son and heir.”

Aemond's expression remained conflicted, but there was a spark of something in his eye—hope, perhaps, or a glimmer of belief. Alys could see the battle within him, the struggle between his self-doubt and the destiny she foretold. She pressed on, her hand moving to gently cup his scarred cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“You are destined for greatness, Aemond. Together, we can shape the future of the Seven Kingdoms. After Daemon is finished, we will go to King’s Landing and rescue your mother and sister within; they are still alive, I know it. Trust in me, trust in us.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air, the only sound the crackling of the fire. Then, slowly, Aemond lifted his hand to cover hers, a sign of his acceptance as his eye finally softened. His grip was firm as he bent to kiss her sweetly on the lips, which she immediately deepened, starving for his touch and affection. 

“Alright then…for our child,” Aemond said with conviction as he pulled away, his singular violet eye alight with fire once more, alive with passion, fueled with purpose.  

With only Vhagar as their witness, they stood beneath the open sky and recited the ancient marriage ritual of House Targaryen, their voices steady and resolute, echoing the vows of his ancestors. 

For a moment, war and destruction, heartache and pain seemed to fall away as they found solace in each other’s arms. Aemond's touch was gentle, his fingers trailing softly over her skin as if memorizing every inch of her. He made love to her with reverence, with such a tenderness it was as if she was suddenly made of glass. The world outside ceased to exist as they lost themselves in each other, their bodies entwined in a rhythm of love and passion.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, Aemond allowed himself a moment of happiness. His usual mask of sternness and determination melted away, replaced by a genuine smile as he thought of his son. He looked at Alys with true affection, his hand moving to rest on her still flat belly. She could see the wonder in his eye, the silent imagining of her swollen with his child, a symbol of their union and the future they hoped to build together.

Basking in his tender affection, her heart swelled with love and gratitude. She returned his caresses, her hands moving over his strong back, tracing the contours of his muscles. As Aemond placed a gentle kiss on her abdomen, she sighed with deep contentment, enjoying his bare skin on hers, the feeling of his seed leaking from between her thighs, the burning of the fire in her lower belly as the blood of the dragon nestled within. It is the most loved and cherished she had ever felt in her entire life.

Back at Harrenhal, the little maid waited anxiously. A few days before, the Prince Regent and the witch had fled together after news of King’s Landing's fall reached them. Ser Criston Cole had taken the green army south to join the Hightowers, leaving Harrenhal unguarded and eerily quiet. Now was the most opportune time for Daemon to rescue her, but she had no way to send word to him; she wasn’t even sure of his whereabouts.

So she waited and prayed fervently that her father would come for her. But her prayers were laced with a growing worry.

She worried because her moon's blood was late and she was never late. Despite drinking the tea the witch had given her, she had only had that one cup and now questioned its effectiveness. Was it enough? There was no one left to ask or to make more for her.

She worried because she felt cramping in her lower abdomen without any sign of bleeding. She worried because ordinary smells now made her nauseous, her breasts were constantly sore, and still, her blood did not come. 

One evening, unable to hold back her fears any longer, she broke down and confided in the matron, her surrogate mother that she loved dearly and who she had failed miserably by letting Aemond take advantage of her. The matron listened intently, a deep frown etched between her eyebrows, but she wasn’t angry or disappointed in the maid’s confession. She was only terribly upset for what her young adopted daughter had endured at the hands of the Prince Regent.

Discreetly, the matron arranged for the maester to examine her, and he confirmed her worst fears. She was indeed pregnant; the witch’s potion had failed. His confirmation did not surprise the little maid in the slightest. She had known, deep in her heart, that she was carrying the child of the One-Eyed Prince. A child conceived not out of love, but out of revenge and hatred, shattering her innocence, leaving her to pick up the pieces alone.

The realization weighed heavily on her. What would her father say if he ever found out? Daemon Targaryen was fierce and proud, he would surely be enraged, would surely put her babe to the sword as soon as he was born and the thought horrified her beyond measure. And so she vowed never to tell him the truth. If he came for her, she would have to hide her condition, pretend to have been foolish with someone else…anyone else. 

Not long after her discovery, the haunting shriek of Caraxes pierces the silent night, announcing the return of the Rogue Prince, as he had promised. She rushes to meet him, excitement bubbling in her chest, but also a twinge of fear, knowing she now has to play her part.

Daemon looks tired and worn, the toll of the war evident in every line on his face. But when he sees her, his expression brightens.

“Little one,” he greets warmly, reaching out to embrace her in a father’s hug she has never known before. She inhales the scent of dragon and smoke clinging to his clothes, feeling a fleeting sense of safety.

“Are we leaving? I can pack my things…” she begins eagerly, her voice trailing off as she notices the sadness in his eyes.

“I’m afraid, my little dragonseed, that we cannot go,” Daemon says softly, his voice filled with regret. “I must stay here and cannot be distracted…the Queen and the realm depend on it.” Tears spring to her eyes, and he gently lifts her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Little dragon, you must get away from here. Leave Harrenhal, this place is cursed, probably from that despicable witch,” he growls as a flicker of anger crosses his face as he remembers Alys. 

“She’s gone now…with Prince Aemond,” the little maid tries to explain, her voice trembling. “Alys is not here to make you suffer as she did before.”

Daemon frowns slightly at this unusual piece of information, that Aemond would flee with the witch of all people, but quickly returns to his original point.

“No matter. Run, flee. Do not go to the Riverlands right now; it is not safe,” he says urgently, taking her face into both of his hands and bowing his forehead against hers. His desperation is palpable and she can see the pain in his eyes, the sorrow of knowing he cannot keep his promise to take her with him.

“But how will you find me again?” she whispers, her voice breaking with emotion.

“Do not worry, my child. If I survive, I will come for you,” he promises for the second time, his voice filling with determination. Yet she can’t bring herself to believe him entirely. She knows he is here to await Prince Aemond, and the prospect of either of them surviving a battle against one another seems slim. Daemon is choosing to sacrifice himself for the good of the realm and she cannot even begin to understand how incredibly brave he is.

Her tears start to flow at this realization and she hates the thought of leaving him behind to await his fate alone, but knows she has little choice. “Where should I go?” she asks, her voice small and fearful.

“Try to avoid any large settlements on your journey. They are currently being targeted by the one-eyed welp. Head south, towards Dragonstone….those loyal to Queen Rhaenyra will help you,” he instructs.

“I don’t want to leave you,” she sobs, her hands clutching at his tunic. “I’m scared.”

Daemon’s heart breaks at her words and he strokes her hair gently, trying to soothe her. “You are strong, my little dragon. You have the blood of Old Valyria in your veins. You will survive this. You must.”

The next day dawns cold and gray, a fitting backdrop for their departure. She and the matron join a gaggle of other inhabitants all intent on fleeing the cursed castle. The little maid is glad to be free of these dark and haunted halls at last.  

Before she leaves, she embraces her father one last time. His arms around her feel strong and protective, but there is a sense of finality that she cannot ignore. She clings to him as he whispers, “Be safe,” his voice rough with emotion. 

“I will,” she promises, though her heart aches with the knowledge that this is a promise she may not be able to keep; the road is dangerous and fraught with peril. She pulls away, wiping her tears on the back of her hand, turning away from him and forcing herself not to look back.

As they leave Harrenhal behind, the group moves in silence, each lost in their own thoughts and fears. The matron walks beside her and the little maid finds herself reaching for her hand, needing reassurance just as if she was a child again. 

She wonders about their journey ahead, hoping they will settle someplace safe; she has already decided that she and the matron will raise her son together. They will find a quiet place, far from the war and destruction, and he will grow up being loved, fiercely and unconditionally. Her son will know the stories of his heritage, even if he never knows his family, and she will be certain to tell him about his brave grandfather and the legacy that flows through his royal veins. 

Alys managed to convince Aemond to delay for a day, to celebrate their union before his incessant need to return to burn the Riverlands once more. They settled in a faraway meadow, a place untouched by the war, where the air was fresh and the sounds of conflict were but a distant memory. It was a brief respite from the carnage, a stolen moment of peace. 

She devoted herself to Aemond, worshiping him with her mouth, savoring, sucking, treating him as a king should be treated. They made love countless times in the soft grass and, as before, Aemond was exceedingly gentle, his touch soft and caring as he suckled her engorged breasts. He didn’t rut into her viciously as he had been known to do in the past, instead pleasuring her with long, slow strokes, bringing her to peak with his tongue.

In those moments, he was without his eyepatch, bare and vulnerable, and she saw the man he might have been had violence not scarred his soul. If the war had never started, she thought, this was who Aemond would be. She wished with all her heart that she could bring peace to the prince’s troubled spirit. 

As they journeyed back to the Riverlands, she estimated they had been gone from Harrenhal for nearly a fortnight. Reality hit her hard as she gazed upon the war-torn realm once more and for the first time in a long while, she was hit by a multitude of visions, many which did not make any sense. She could feel the Rogue Prince’s presence, hear the shriek of his dragon in her dreams. She confessed to Aemond that they must return to Harrenhal, that they were being sought by Daemon.

While they flew, her thoughts drifted to the little maid they had left behind. She fervently hoped the potion she had given the girl had worked; the maid did not need to suffer any more than she already had. Alys could not bear the thought of another child contending for Aemond’s heart….or his legacy. She resolved to check on the girl as soon as they returned to the castle.

As they neared Harrenhal, she felt the unmistakable energy of Caraxes well before she even saw the castle, confirming her fears and driving away any other thought. She knew that this encounter was fated, that the impending clash between Aemond and Daemon was inevitable.

She kissed Aemond for good luck, her prince, her king, the father of her child. His singular eye looked at her with a fleeting softness before hardening into the mask of determination she knew so well. He mounted Vhagar with practiced ease and took to the skies in pursuit of his uncle, so sure of his victory.

High above the God’s Eye she watched their fearsome battle, fear striking deep into her heart as the dragons danced.

And then he fell…she watched in horror…no, it couldn’t be… this was not as she foretold… her beloved prince and his mighty dragon… 

Irreparably broken…

And her world shattered. 

Epilogue

A few years later, along the tranquil banks of Riverrun, a young woman walked with a woven basket in hand, occasionally bending to gather an assortment of mushrooms or plants. She hummed a light, cheerful tune, her bright blonde hair hanging loose and flowing in the warm summer breeze. Here, she no longer had to hide her true self, her bloodline, or her past.

She and the matron had made it back to Riverrun just in time for her to give birth; their journey had been long and arduous as the war raged on, but she had been relieved to finally return home. 

“Mama!” came a small voice from the riverbank. “Fish! Mama!” He pointed excitedly as she drew near and she smiled at his enthusiasm. 

“Yes, Daemon, fish,” she confirmed in a gentle, motherly voice, as she approached him and smoothed his bright blond hair.

The boy turned to her with a radiant smile, his cherubic face and round cheeks a picture of joy and health. His violet eyes always pierced her soul whenever she looked at him, the shadow of his father already prominent in his young face. He was a living, breathing reminder of Aemond, the last trace of his lineage to walk the earth. 

She watched her son affectionately as he splashed in the shallows, his laughter loud amongst the soft sounds of nature. He giggled in delight as the small fish swam around his ankles, seeming just as interested in the little boy as he was in them. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the river, she held his small hand as they walked back toward home, the basket filled with the day’s harvest, her heart content. 

She hoped her father would be proud of her.

[nyctophiliq]

young agents in love:

the first time you went over to deal business with solomon reed as the newest consultant of his and the fia, you came across a girl who seemed to be lost in her own world, or rather the network, judging by the netrunning chair she settled in during most of your visit. you were quick to learn however that she could push your buttons faster than any kind of higher-ranking agent who was trying to get through to you before forcing your hand and making you join the agency.

“reed will just take a moment.” you nodded at her words, one of the few times that the two of you actually exchanged words and you didn’t just stare at her like some freak. you stood to the side, letting her walk past you with ease and get back into her chair. but you couldn’t ignore how you didn’t hear the click of her gear so you turned back to face her and noticed she was staring at the box in your hand.

“what’s that?” it took her a second to build up the courage to ask, but sure enough she did and even a blind person could see that you were once an animal from dogtown with the way your chrome glowed with the neon streaks under the dim lights of the room. dead giveaway, you couldn’t even deny it.

you shrugged, “a gift, where i come from we don’t arrive without a little something.” yes, dogtown had its own little traditions, so to speak, that is to mention that most of the time the gifts back home were bombs or other lethal objects that were made to harm the receiver. everyone jumped to conclusions about what your intentions were when you stepped outside of dogtown, but in reality, they were all harmless.

you could bet she was thinking you were here by mistake, looking to score a deal with the wrong people, or a chrome up that you wanted to cheat the system to get. the look on her face told you though that she wasn’t satisfied with your answer at all, so you followed it up just to get her off your ass, “it’s a shard, something reed has been looking for and i got it for him.” she hummed after you explained then you heard the click and she was gone.

every time you visited you were interrogated by so mi (you also learned her name over the course of your many visits) about your ‘gifts’ and why you turned up in the hideout time and time again. you always told her, you were here because solomon reed asked you to be and little details about the shards and other kinds of gifts that you brought.

today was probably the last time you visited the hideout after months, getting wind of that the fia is sending solomon on his way to take on another mission. your only quest was to get enough information and maybe ‘bribe’ your contacts (as once you were thought by kurt hansen himself) for intel, telling them that you were still with the barghest but in reality, you were dropping the wire on how to infiltrate various points of interest.

“this is my last visit here, thought i would bring something for my favorite netrunner.” your walls slowly crumbled down, all assumptions getting lost in the fog of your mind and heart growing closer to the netrunner.

so mi was hesitant of accepting the wrapped gift from your offering hand. “trust me it wasn’t easy to shit something like this out, you wanna take it.” she didn’t have to know how hard it was to gather just one little shard with all the stuff she wished for, this is when you need to thank reed before never seeing him ever again for helping.

“i… um…” her voice shook with uncertainty, gazing at the shard between your fingers. “i don’t know what to say.” so mi breathed.

“then…” you start, biting your tongue to slow yourself down before muttering some nonsense. “what if i ask the big guy to let you out? for lunch or dinner, we could make it a date…” you made a mess of your feelings at the end there, slipped up but it could have ended a lot worse than it actually did.

“a date sounds perfect.” so mi said, not having too much luck with trying to hold back the smile that crept up on her face as she stepped up to you. her hands landed on your shoulders, tip-toeing up so your faces were right in front of each other, just inches away. too fast…

she quickly pulled away, muttering an apology for her sudden moves. you assured her she didn’t do anything wrong. “kid, come on inside.” you heard reed call out. you looked over your shoulder before looking back at so mi and leaning in to press a gentle kiss on her rosy cheek.

“something to make sure you won’t stand me up.” you turned on your heels, and now the composed and serious ex-barghest walked inside the office she knew very well. you could jump out of your skin over so mi saying yes to your date later, and work out some other details (like how you two are both agents and the guys on the eighth floor didn’t really find that a good idea) even after that.

a/n: i always wanted to write something for songbird and now that I am easing into this blurb or drabble style I got going on right now I thought why not cook up something for the best netrunner in the world? i hope you guys liked it and thank you for reading !!!

[suzyblue0292]

Rewatch - Dead Boy Detectives S1E1 - The Case of Crystal Palace

We are introduced to Edwin guarding Charles or the boys guardian each other

The bickering

They are time cards not library cards.

Does the show often say one thing and show another? REVISIT

“Death will take us” v Death asking Wilfred if he is ready

The boxing scene is interesting given everything we learn about Edwin later - getting out of hell couldn’t have been easy he has to have more skill than Charles gives him credit for - or they want the audience to give him less credit

You are the brawn? - I feel like they want us to doubt the narrative. 

We are presented with Crystal as a good person. (Aside from being American apparently). Again we are being told one thing so we are blindsided by the other. 

The looks on the boys' faces when they observe Crystal. 

We never see them as relaxed looking as they are in the office again. 

Edwin knows how to knit.

Was there a debate over the disguises?

She has her purse and phone. Does the memory loss prevent her from reading her contacts/ID?? 

Charles does not hesitate to call Edwin on his BS - he also knows that Edwin is jealous (just not the exact nature of said jealousy) - but he said it himself during the boxing scene - he knows Edwin hates change - and the very first thing we see him doing in the next scene is defending Edwin to Crystal

This is also how we learn about the “Clerical error” - is this the extent of Charles’ knowledge or the best way he has to explain it?

We start to see the meaner side of Crystal but Charles' good nature still acts a deterrent from following that to a conclusion.

Charles’ admits that part of the reason its so good to talk to Crystal is because she’s living and his age - they probably don’t meet a huge amount of teenage ghosts - although I would guess they might have more unfinished business than most - I have a feeling its the living part that’s the biggest appeal

What is Edwin doing with the coffee??

Why are you warning Edwin about the cleaver, Charles? 

Crystal is carrying a considerable amount of cash - but no cards?

Edwin gets them a clue quickly through mirror travel. - The Cat King and his little bracelet are quite the plot devices. 

Why so rude to the cat Charles?

Also did the Crow not tip off the whole witch thing?

Crystal seems so young and vulnerable when she realizes the girls are staring.

Crystal’s mind is so desolate - all the broken picture frames - empty memories - the three eyeballs should have given it away though - “the third eye”

We know they can travel by mirror, and the normal way, but can ghosts travel through ether? How do they get in front of Crystal?

Poor Charles, no it’s not a competition but Crystal and Edwin are both terrified in their own right.

Every demonic case must be a nightmare for Edwin and now he realizes they didn’t get rid of the demon. He only knows how to express his fear in terms of case work though. 

The flashback: Simon is so clearly reaching out, but Edwin is so clearly expecting to be bullied. And the shot of him marching against the flow of other students, bless.

Its also so heartbreaking that Edwin is terrified BEFORE there is any sign the demon sacrifice will work. God only knows what he thought those boys would do. 

Five other boys died with Edwin and it seems like Sa ’al obliterates their bodies. Was there anything for the school to give the parents to bury? Just ashes? No wonder it was deemed an act of God. Six boys either vanished or reduced to ashes. 

And no wonder the memory drives Edwin to recklessness. 

Jenny laying down the hard truth. 

“I get angry. It's like knowing you have a home but being unable to get there.” Poster child speaks to poster child.

Yeah, I totally thought Niko was going to be the love interest.

Why never tell Edwin? Because he really can’t go home?

I try to be extra happy for all of us. - Oh Charles.

And now the boy who was dragged to hell learns that Crystal chose her demon. Ouch.

Edwin isn’t just yelling at Crystal. He’s reminding Charles too. “You are sharp and fun, but this isn’t a game.”

They are such vulnerable children, and then so cute as they plot.

Poor Jenny. She doesn’t doesn’t even get paid teacher’s wages for this shit.

Edwin does a good job of actually telling Crystal the stakes with the plastic girl bit. She  might be cottoning on. 

Charles is comforting Crystal, but holding Edwin.

Note that Charles doesn’t roll his eyes or dispute “and we’re punishing you.” After Edwin’s outburst and Crystal’s confession his loyalties seem to have tipped back a bit.

Why doesn’t it trip Edwin that Esther left her kettle on? It worried me from word go.

Again, Charles is the brawn but Edwin is the one checking out the weird witch’s lair.

So many fucking shoes.

I love Esther. I know I shouldn’t but….

Can Charles actually understand the Crow?

Edwin has such poor form, but he does as well as Charles when it comes down to it.

Round 1 of Esther underestimating Crystal

Edwin goes straight to help Crystal, despite his concern for Charles possessing Esther. 

Okay was anyone else expecting that kid to get mowed down crossing the street?

Oh Charles, counting your chickens to soon is a bad idea.

It’s interesting that Charles possessing someone sets off an alarm for them both - this must not be the first time they’ve tangled with the afterlife for them to have a joint file.

[catamaurrr-star]

YANQING MASKED FOOL THEORY!!

[CHAPTER 1: WATER]

so yanqing has a Bunch of secret water motifs, such as this moment in his trailer and this entire post i made

plus generally being near water in many of his scenes (his trailer, myriad celestia trailer Cloud Knights Martial Doctrine, On Swords, fighting dhil + blade)

there's also his clothing! his sleeves have a wave pattern

swirlingish designs like water mixing with something else on his Whatever's at the end of his clothes i dont know the name

also i might just be reading too hard but his hair drooping down feels a little bit like water flowing down

misc motifs: his boss's skill names being "CASCADING laceration", his bp pfp being named "yanqing: ODYSSEY", the story where they go on a ship in the SEA, ult name being "amidst the RAINING bliss", swallow motifs and swallows being commonly found near water (source)

[CHAPTER 2: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT]

so why am i telling you all this on the masked fool theory? well the path of elation does have some ties to water! such as:

s: masked fools databank

s: mourning actors databank. this is a bit of a stretch but Bare with me

s: "inquiry into the gods: the sacrosancts" readable

plus, two of our confirmed masked fools have fish/water motifs [feroluce made a great post on sampo and the elation's fish/water motifs go check it out !!!!] and while yanqing doesn't exactly have fish motifs, he sure has a lot of water details on him. and both of them dont really have anything in common in terms of gameplay so its fine if he also doesn't really fit either of their playstyles.

[CHAPTER 3: BUT WOULD HE REALLY]

but now we gotta ask ourselves. WOULD he be a masked fool? he is indeed smiling in almost every picture of him, but it wouldn't really fit with his personality sadly… he has a strong sense of justice and even though he's playful, he never breaks it just for fun. there is a chance that in his backstory, he could've been a masked fool that just happened to forget all his memories. but considering how young yanqing is and was when jing yuan first found him, its highly unlikely unless hes some sort of rebirthing species like the vidyadhara.

(side tangent you can ignore this) an npc does talk about (qingzu) this but i really do not think she is being serious about it. however she does also say jing yuan spent the first 500 years of his life as a crosstalk comedian and yanqing only stayed with him to learn it so it does tie in to the theory a bit. i still really do not believe her since even the trailblazer doubts her words, and they sound really outlandish with little evidence.

the idea of yanqing not being a xianzhou native is really easy to believe though. there's the whole six phased ice thing, but id like to bring something else up to the table. all human character bosses have physical weakness such as bronya, argenti, kafka, etc. cocolia doesn't but your encounter with her in the storyline wasn't actually her, it was a fragmentum echo of her, and even then her echo of war doesn't have physical weakness. so this implies that yanqing isn't human, unless one of the other bosses is also not human. also nobody knows where he came from or who his parents are, even himself.

[CHAPTER 4: CONCLUSION]

so basically: theres proof that he could be a masked fool but unless we know his age or know what his backstory is if he just suddenly got amnesia we will never know. he's probably not one and im just smashing puzzle pieces that dont fit together but im going to tell everyone hes secretly a masked fool though anyways because its funny

[deaddee-anime-brownfanlady]

TOP 10 personal Favorite Manga.

Here's just a couple of manga that I love & just think are top-notch.

NUMBER: 1 : TOKYO GHOUL

A series that means a lot to me in many ways. When I first got into Tokyo Ghoul it was by the very first season of the anime during 2014 and upon hearing the opening theme of Unravel and seeing the first episode, I was hooked and went into the manga series right after. A nuanced morally compelling storytelling with an array of so many cool and great characters and narratives, incredible art progression from Ishida Sui, and overall just a satisfyingly great conclusion to boot.

NUMBER: 2 : J NO SUBETE

On the surface, looks like a regular BL series, but underneath an emotional-roller-coaster and pretty heavy story about a transwoman named J. Set in the 40s /50s, you fellow J childhood and the awful, rough bullshit she deals with in life as well as her love & massive admiration of Marilyn Monroe. Really such a good story that deals with some real heavy shit...but still so good.

NUMBER: 3 : MONSTER

Not only one of my favorite anime adaptations but also equally as wonderfully engaging & just as well done as a manga as well. Monster is such a captivating, intense story and truly one of my favorites from Urasawa's works. Following Dr. Tenma, a talented neurosurgeon who has grips with the moral dilemma of either saving the Mayor or saving a young boy who was shot in a murder. Tenma chose to save the boy instead and while it costs him being demoted he still believes he did the right thing. Unfortunately years later discovering the boy he saves...turns out to be a killer. This series is such a banger from its storytelling to the characters and just one of the best from Urasawa's.

NUMBER: 4 : GOODNIGHT PUNPUN

At first glance of this manga, you might think of it as something of a cute slice-of-life story about a cute cartoony bird. But actually when reading it...IT'S WAY MORE DARKER and GETS A LOT MORE FUCK UP! For real Goodnight Punpun is one of those series that's start-up pretty light-hearted and a little bit goofy with Punpun being a cartoony-drawn bird amongst very average-looking humans as a young kid in the first volumes of the series. But as things move forward within the story as Punpun gets older and his family situation gets more unstable as well as his life, the tone gets more depressing as a whole. Love the dark psychological storytelling, although it definitely the type of story you can only read once in awhile or in a good headspace because it definitely can be a hard read.

NUMBER: 5 : BERSERK

Seriously, what can I say about Berserk that already hasn't been said on some level. But this manga is seriously, I feel one of the most top iconic series within manga as well as one of the most engaging, moving, fantastic, epic storyline I've read thus far. I know the series itself is still ongoing, and I've been keeping up-to-date with this story since reading the very first chapter. Hearing about Kentaro Miura death....was tough, I knew he had serious health issues, which is why volumes would tend to go on pretty long hatiuses... but man. Another influential iconic figure in manga gone, Berserk is definitely a series any manga-lover or anime fan should read once in awhile.

NUMBER: 6 : SHOUWA GENROKU RAKUGO SHINJUU

Not only one of the most beautifully mature, well-written, compelling storytelling I've seen thus far in an anime series. But as a manga, even more so, a well-crafted story on the life and times of a sad, burden-ridden, slightly bitter, depressed, old man known as Yakumo Yurakutei, who is a highly skilled and experienced master of Rakugo, which for those who don't know is an traditional Japanese verbal form of entertainment. Think of it as something like a form of Improv done by only one person playing different characters to tell a story, This series has many layers to its storytelling that's is done so well dealing with Yakumo and those in his life that has impacted him as to the type of pained almost broken old man he is within the present time. Just a overall good & bittersweet but fantastic story that's deserves to be check out more.

NUMBER: 7 : INNOCENT

It is one of the most beautifully drawn manga series that I have read so far while also being equally gruesome as well. Innocent is a fictionalized historical manga set during 18th century France about the story and legacy of Charles Henri Sanson (actual real historical figure), who is the fourth generation of a family of Executioners known as the Sanson family who are the royal Executioners of Paris. The story follows Charles rough journey towards his path of becoming the Monsieur De Paris. This absolutely such a fantastic piece of work, both in terms of the visually amazing stunning artwork and along with the historical storytelling of Charles coming to terms with his hated lineage and becoming Executioner of Paris but also showcasing the societal/political chaotic changes and upheaval of France slowly leading up to the French revolution. Although some historical aspects are obviously fictionalized, but still such a good series.

NUMBER: 8 : THE PROMISED NEVERLAND

While my feelings on the anime are highly mixed due to really, really, really not caring for the way they handled parts of the storytelling from season 2 of the anime series. But the manga, on the other hand, is a totally different story. Seriously, reading this series was a blast and just an enjoyable experience from beginning to end, as well as seeing Emma and Ray also Norman grow & and develop throughout each arc was great to witness including seeing the rest of the kids thrive and survive the outside world. For this manga was a great read, and definitely, I'll say at least personally to me was done far better then the second season flimsy adaptation.

NUMBER: 9 : HOMUNCULUS

Truly an mindfuck of a manga in more ways than one. But still a pretty damned good and wild story, Homunculus is a story about a homeless man named Susumu Nakoshi who ends up meeting a seemingly antagonistic young medical student named Itoh Manabu to do a little experiment on him by drilling a actual hole in his skull for a total of 700,000 ¥en. Itoh, who is very fascinated with studying the human minds and amongst other things such as ghosts and the occult, but ultimately he thinks he can unlock the hidden psychic potential of Susumu brain. Nakoshi goes through the process, and at first, nothing seems to happen after going through the the operation. Until he closes his right eye and starts seeing otherworldly nightmarish monsters and shapes with his left eye when he looks at other people. This series is truly a weird but also such a highly intriguing and fascinating psychological read while at the same time being a bit of a downer, but still an excellent but messed-up good story.

NUMBER : 10 : ATELIER OF WITCH HAT

Okay, so I just recently started reading this manga series not that long ago, about a couple of weeks ago, and now I'm so freaking hooked. Atelier of Witch hat has truly captured my heart and mind with its engaging and creatively fascinating world-building involving witches and magic to the just as highly interesting characters and storytelling. Which centers around our young protagonist Coco ( the girl on the cover) who is this super adorably passionate girl who has such a huge love for all things magical /witches and deeply wishes she could become one as well, but unfortunately normal people or "outsiders" can't become witches, you have to be born into it, but that's doesn't stop Coco from trying her hardest to still wanting to be a witch. One of the things I love most about this world and how it handles dealing with magic and witches is that magic is really normal within this world and how witches tend to uses it to help and serve regular people in need or even for lighting up a cobblestone pathway also I really like how the magic system is structured in this series, such as instead of casting spells or any from of magic with words or a phrase, magic is casted by drawing, Coco here ends up in a pickle with accidentally casting magic that ends up turning her mom into stone & thus Coco journey towards witchood begins.

Seriously, even though I've just recently gotten into this manga & and its ongoing tale it's already has captivated me on so many levels and I just can't get enough of it so far wonderful storytelling and amazingly beautiful drawn artsy apart of it which really adds a lot of this series fantastical elements. Definitely a must to check out!!

Wanted to do a list of a couple of some of my most top favorite manga series and ones were I feel other's should give them a shot at checking out if there into any of these stories. (^ _ ^)

[reds-skull]

BLOOD||HUNGER

[PREV PART] [AO3]

This is it! The last chapter before the epilogue!

It's also the end of a sort of riddle I've been leaving between chapters... I wonder if anyone even noticed, haha

I decided against splitting this chapter, so it's extra long!

Its name is "Famous Fate"

Page 59 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 16:

My brothers, who endured the agony of exile, Who suffered many winters in the cold cage, Were once knights, only to fall, They too, were called Beast. The young maiden, who left your companion, A pure heart, was her only sin, To not pray for a daemon’s death, only for her to live, She too, was called Beast. A man, fallen in battle, Abandoned by all but Death, but by worms of the earth, He too, was called Beast. The hunter, the knight tells, Who chases monsters, who alleges to be righteous, He calls himself, a hero. He is no better man than us, the knight says, One who declares himself justice, one who proclaims to be above the word of God, Is one we, as oath-bound knights, Must send to be judged, by the only true measurer, By the only arbiter still by our side, by Death itself.

“I know I won’t be able to understand, probably never will, but… I have to ask, Simon. Why didn’t you reach out? You knew how to contact me. I could’ve helped.”

“I didn’t think there was enough of me left to save, Captain.”

“...What changed then?”

He looks away for a moment, to blue eyes that never knew fear from him. To arms that refused to hurt him. To a man that showed him more kindness than he ever deserved.

“I met Johnny.”

Ghost watches Soap sort through the supplies the 141 brought with them, wondering what kind of new contraptions the Sergeant’s vivid mind is imagining up right now. He’s grown sickly fond of them, just like everything else Johnny does.

Compromised, a voice growls in the back of his head. You’re only worsening a future pain, only making the inevitable betrayal more torturous.

No pain would make this any less worth it, another voice answers. It doesn’t matter if their destiny only holds blood and ruin, Simon would stay with Johnny as long as he’s wanted. And even then, maybe just a little more.

He senses the presence of another person a moment before Gaz speaks up, “Ghost.”

“...Gaz.” he answers, curious.

The Lieutenant shifts in his place, shoulders taut and squared, “since we’re going to work together, for this mission at least, I figured I should… apologize.”

Apologize?

Gaz continues, his eyes finally landing somewhere on his mask, “Soap explained to me, you never tried to hurt him, after that time we caught you two. I shouldn’t have jumped into conclusions.”

Ghost tilts his head, “I’d doubt your capabilities if you didn’t.” he looks back at Johnny, huffing when the Sergeant grumbles in Scots, “I’m glad he has someone like you on his side.”

Gaz’s mouth hangs open in surprise. He shakes it off to say, “It’s- of course.” Ghost can tell he’s hesitating at his next sentence, “I still have a hard time comprehending you were Simon Riley all along… You’re a bloody legend in the SAS.”

“I suppose they had an easier time making my death seem heroic than trying to actually save me.” Ghost mutters lowly. Gaz just nods slowly, eyes dropping to the ground.

And that’s a kicker, isn’t it? That apparently, the SAS made him a myth, someone for the rookies to look up to, a glamorized shell of a man that no one, including himself, will ever live up to. The same men that left him to die, now say his name with fondness and admiration.

Funny, how those same men now fear him enough to send the 141 on him. Ghost wants to grin with the twisted satisfaction it gives him.

“What’s your name, Lieutenant?” Ghost eventually asks.

“Huh? Uh, Kyle Garrick.” Gaz raises a brow.

Soap gathers up the last of his creations, face turning to his to nod, “Garrick. I know we started on the wrong foot-”

“Understatement of the century.” Gaz offhandedly remarks.

“-But you can trust me with Soap’s six. And I hope we can trust each other on ours, as well.”

Garrick blinks, expression growing serious. He then nods, offering a hand to shake, “enemy of my enemy is my friend, and all that?”

Ghost hums, taking the hand and squeezing. He can feel, even from their short interactions, how Johnny and Gaz were cut from the same honest cloth.

He takes off his mask, “affirmative. Let’s move.”

Price’s eyes mellow, the hand on his bicep squeezing gently, “that lad is something else, isn’t he?”

Simon’s scars stretch with a small smile, “I thought he was an idiot, at first. Saving me, giving me another chance again and again. No matter what, he refused to kill me.” he breathes out slowly, the numbness of his limbs ebbing at last, “whoever discharged him was a goddamn moron.”

The Captain sighs, “I tried convincing Shepherd to let him off the hook, but the bastard was mental. He had Makarov in the palm of his hand, wanted to show off how he locked up the worst criminal of the decade, only for MacTavish to choke him out on exfil.”

It was Shepherd, then? Of course it’s that bloody wanker. Ghost can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from his chest, “and here’s Johnny, fucking everything up for the higher ups yet again.”

God, what did he do to deserve meeting this man…

Konservy warehouse is a large building, surrounded by silos and containers. At least they’ll have some cover, besides the shadows of the night. Ghost can tell the offloading garage is blessedly open, even from the road their vehicle has parked in, meaning infiltration will be easier than they originally thought.

A thunder makes them all look up to the sky. A heavy storm is brewing, threatening to cover the stars and moon. Good. The darkness is their ally.

They jump out of the truck, gathering around the trunk, doing final checks to their gears. His hands move automatically, in the same way all of them were trained in the SAS. Some part of him is unsettled, the one that labelled himself a lost cause, a monster, a sinner with no salvation.

But as he looks up, at the masked faces surrounding him, Simon can’t call the position he’s in anything but atonement. 

He’ll carve forgiveness from the Hunter’s flesh, write amends with their blood. Untie the last knot on his self-made noose.

The poison in Simon’s body makes itself known at all times now – an uncomfortable buzzing tightening around his knuckles, weaving through sinews and leaving little pinpricks of pain. He looks towards Johnny, his blue eyes a silver grey in the moonlight.

Price wordlessly nods to him, a silent check. Simon schools his features and nods back.

They begin making their way to the garage door, the tall grass their only cover. The Captain motions to the left, where two guards stand under a weak light. Garrick pulls out his EBR, and not two seconds later, both soldiers fall dead with silenced shots. Their group continues pushing forward.

Soap stops walking in front of him, struggling with something. He stops besides him, watching for a moment as he tries to get something out of his pack.

He leans in to whisper, “what are you trying to get, Johnny?”

The Sergeant freezes, “I made some proximity mines with the C4 Price brought, but they’re stuck down there-”

Simon reaches into the pack, gently moving Soap’s hand aside. Their fingers wrap around the bomb at the same time, “you ought to organize it better, what would you do if you were alone?” he admonished.

Johnny’s eyes widen a little, before they crescent in a hidden smile, “but I’m not alone, am I? Ah got ye.”

Soap pulls away, quietly catching up to Gaz and Price. Simon, for his part, stays motionless for far too long, his brain looping Johnny’s words again and again.

It strikes him then, a sudden stab to his heart, that Soap trusts him. With his weapons, with his wounds, with his six.

Johnny trusts him. Simon fights down a smile, happiness overflowing him. He trusts him.

The others send him a confused stare, when Simon doesn’t move. He finally unsticks his legs and sneaks in, eyes instantly drawn to Johnny strapping his unhinged bombs under each vehicle, his “gifts” for any hostile trying to get reinforcements in the future.

Simon can’t force down the smile that his lips form then, when the Sergeant turns around and gives him a thumbs up, almost child like and so at odds with the amount of potential destruction he just planted in the garage.

The others return from clearing the area, Price readjusting his bucket hat over the mask (which looks as daft as it sounds, but Simon can’t help but feel fond of that stupid hat), giving Simon one last look, “how are you feeling, son?”

“Solid.” he flexes his hands, testing the numbness. It’s not enough to inhibit his performance, not yet at least.

Price places a hand on his shoulder, patting it, “good, keep it that way. Our mission may officially be to eliminate the Hunter, but finding an antidote is no less important.” Price’s face darkens, “don’t take unnecessary risks, Simon. I… I don’t want to lose you again.”

Simon swallows thickly, unused to this amount of people caring for his fate. It was far easier to accept a bloody end when no one was there to mourn him, “...I’ll do my best, Captain.”

Price’s moustache lifts with a smile, “good lad. I’ll see you when it’s all over.” he gives him one last pat before drawing away, “let’s move out, Gaz! We need to clear the way for our boys.”

Gaz gives Soap a fist bump and comes by the Captain’s side, “we’ll radio in when you have a way through.”

“Solid copy.” Soap responds, finished with the mine setting, “give ‘em hell, mate.”

Garrick grins, “as always.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to fight?”

Simon scoffs, “I don’t ‘ave a choice, Captain.”

“I am giving you a choice right now. If you think you can’t fight… We can take the Hunter down without you.” Price says, expression severe.

He thinks about it. It is not only a matter of what he wants. When working with a team, he must take into consideration that his inability to fight will endanger the others.

“The poison gives me enough warnings to know a few minutes ahead when I’ll be incapacitated. If I fall while we fight, I’ll be able to secure myself beforehand.” he rolls his wrists, muscling through the pain of regaining feeling, “you’ll need every help you can get. Don’t do my mistake, do not underestimate the Hunter.”

“We won’t, I just need to know-”

“I’ll be fine, Price. Been fighting my whole life with much less.”

“...I know, son. That’s why I would prefer you didn’t.” Price’s brows pull down in sorrow, “but I trust your judgement.”

“...Can’t ask for more than that, John.”

Johnny is silent beside him, eyes glued to the exit he’s overwatching. They’ve been waiting for Price and Gaz’s go-ahead for several slow minutes now, each trickling more sluggishly than the other. The pinpricks on Simon’s hands are growing – he doesn’t have much time.

“Ye think they need backup?” Soap eventually breaks the silence.

“If they’re compromised, we won’t be able to save them now, Sergeant.” as much as he hates the idea of leaving Price and Gaz to fend for themselves, they all knew the risks of splitting up. “For now, assume they’re still solid.”

“Aye, LT- shite, uh-” Johnny fumbles through the words, turning around to give Simon an apologetic look.

He huffs in slight amusement, at how much Soap seems to care if a word hurts him or not.

“It’s alright, Johnny.” he stops the Sergeant from continuing to backtrack.

Johnny’s teeth click shut, and he frowns, sheepishly asking, “...ye sure? It seemed to really bother ye, before…”

‘I wasn’t willing to lay my life for you, before’ he wants to say.

‘I didn’t have your trust, before’

‘I didn’t have trust in myself to lead you, before’

“You’ve earned it, Johnny.” he settles on. It seems to be the right choice, when Soap’s eyes almost close with how wide his grin must be. Simon hates the mask covering his face, for hiding that smile from him.

Their comms choose this moment to start crackling, and Price’s tinny voice comes through, “CCTV room is under our control, haven’t located the Hunter just yet.”

Simon radios back, “have you been spotted?”

“We may not be the Ghost, but we’re still professionals, mate.” Gaz joins in.

“Have ye professionals spotted any potential spot fer the Hunter to hide in?” Soap asks, his eyes still squinting with a smile.

“Still looking, this place is massive.” Price grumbles, “start making your way to the machinery room at the center, take out anyone on the way. I’m seeing a lot of equipment there, but no soldiers…”

“Copy.” Simon clicks his comms off, motioning with his head for Soap to take point.

The halls of the warehouse are eerily empty, little mementos of past life barely clinging to the barren concrete walls. Not for the first time, Simon wonders why the Hunter chose this city, out of all of them.

Soap’s careful steps thump behind him, a calming presence at his back. Simon is not used to trusting, but trusting Johnny feels… natural.

Not for the first time, Simon thanks whatever brought him to Soap. Fate, destiny, a God he doesn’t truly believe in, it doesn’t matter.

He shakes off those thoughts. If it was important for him to be at his best before he met Soap, now it matters a thousand times over, because he’s not alone anymore.

Their fates are interlinked now. And Simon refuses to be the reason they all fall.

He won’t fail his team a second time.

“After all of this is said and done… What will you do?”

Simon grunts as he sits up, finally able to move his torso. He stalls his answer for a moment, the truth so simple it scares him. “...I don’t know.”

He may have been lost many times in his life, tossed between his father’s cruel hands and the cartel’s, but he always had a goal.

‘Get out’

Now, though? The only thing he wants to run away from is the shell of a monster he was before meeting Johnny. A weapon, to be picked up and discarded as needed. 

Price must’ve seen a conflict twisting his expression, because he starts talking again, “I’d have you back in our ranks in a heartbeat, you know. But I don’t think that’s what you need.”

Simon frowns at the ground, hands massaging his aching legs, “and what do you think I need?”

“Someone to ground you. Make sure you don’t forget yourself again.”

“Someone like Johnny, then.”

“Another hostile on your 3, Simon.”

“Copy.”

Simon steps around another stack of crates, every move calculated and muted. The unsuspecting soldier walks right past him, arms relaxed on his weapon.

He waits for him to reach the end of the hallway, and the moment the soldier starts turning, Simon claps a hand over his mouth and slices his neck in a well practiced motion. He catches the body and shoves it into a nearby storage room. “Anyone else, Garrick?”

“You’re clear for now.” Gaz responds. He continues guiding Simon through the mess of halls that lead to the main room of the warehouse, alerting him to enemies. Soap has separated from him about ten minutes ago, taking the other rooms and making sure no one will be alive to raise any alarms.

Even if Price is keeping an eye on Johnny, Simon would’ve much preferred if he was in his sights. But he trusts the Captain.

“Any sign of the Hunter showing on CCTV?” Soap radios in, voice steady and calm.

Price sighs, “negative-”

“Wait-” Gaz cuts him off, “next to the main conveyor belt, right in the middle of the main room, is that…”

Simon holds his breath in anticipation as the line goes silent, Price and Gaz likely attempting to verify the ID.

“Skull mask, that’s them. Soap, Simon, PID on the Hunter!” Price nearly shouts.

Gaz’s voice is far more tense than before when he adds, “it seems like they know something’s wrong, prepare for combat!”

Shit, “Johnny, where are you right now?” they can’t be separated if they’ve been discovered.

“On my way to ye- fuck!” grunts and muted punches fill the comms, the sounds of struggle a sinking feeling in Simon’s chest.

Simon starts running. “Price, where is he?!” these bloody hallways all look the fucking same! He retraces his steps to the point he and Johnny split ways.

“Turn left, he’s straight ahead from there!”

He almost slams into the wall with how fast he turns, but the pain is barely registered when he spots Johnny.

Johnny, whose chest is heaving, three dead soldiers at his feet. His bright blue eyes meet his, “Simon?”

He’s capable. You can trust that he won’t die on you.

He blinks a few times before asking, “what’s your status, Sergeant?”

Soap wipes a bloody knife on his pants, “solid. Let’s move.”

“Your cover is blown. Soldiers are making their way to you!” Gaz tells them, “they’re going to the trucks to the front exit, might be trying to get reinforcements!”

He doesn’t need to see Soap’s mouth to know the way it curves into a dangerous grin, “they won’t get far.”

Simon slings his rifle around, toggling the safety off, “time to go loud, Johnny.”

Soap does the same, “with pleasure.”

The sounds of shots line up with his heartbeat. In a fast-paced melody of war, Simon and Johnny continue pushing hostiles back, headshot after headshot.

Heavy drops of rain shake the roof, thunder booming so close to them, Simon feels it in his heart.

Somewhere amidst the battle, several far away explosions rattle the warehouse, the soldiers in front of them taken by surprise. Simon thinks he can hear Johnny chuckling darkly under his breath.

Red paints the walls, brushstrokes of blood and fallen soldiers of the Hunter. It gives Simon newfound strength to push through the growing pain in his limbs, a blinding rush of adrenaline that lies to him sweetly, convincing him he could resist the poison in his heart.

One second, he’s shooting down enemy after enemy.

The next, he falls.

His gun clatters to the ground, legs convulsing uncontrollably. Simon uses the last of his powers to drag himself around the corner, to cover.

“Simon?! Fuck-” Johnny appears a moment later, attempting to scan him for injuries between shots, “poison?”

Simon groans, “affirm. Sorry, Johnny.” shame bubbles in him. He should be right beside Soap, helping him fight, and the poison decides to take it away from him.

He should be stronger than this.

“None of that, mo chridhe.” Johnny says softly, taking down another hostile, “I’ll clear this wave, and we’ll get ye to a better spot.”

How could he be so gentle while killing people? Simon lays back down with a smile, loosening his muscles and letting the poison have its way.

Soap gets the last of them and returns to his side, looping arms under his shoulders and heaving him up, “steamin’ Jesus, ye weigh as much as a baby elephant.” he complains under his breath.

Simon chuckles, hissing as the jostling shoots pain up his limbs, “you’re just short, Sergeant.”

“Away an’ bile yer heid, bastard…”

Soap drags him to one of the side rooms, a storage unit that seems like it hasn’t seen the light of day for decades. About this time, Simon wishes he had his mask on, if only to filter all the bloody dust in this room.

Johnny fusses over him for a few seconds, until Simon stops him, “I’ll be fine, Soap. Once I regain movement, I’ll come to you.”

Soap stops, hands frozen on his shoulders. He frowns like he wants to argue, but he rises to his feet all the same. “I kept yer comms open, so if ye hear anyone gettin’ close-”

“I’ll radio in. Don’t worry.” Simon smiles, “go.”

Johnny opens the door, hesitating. Simon is about to order him again when Soap unexpectedly turns around, takes three loud steps towards him, and rips his mask off.

“What are you doing, Johnny-”

Warm, shaky hands cup his face, tilt it up. Johnny bends down, and softly kisses his forehead.

In the space between them, he whispers, “I’ll come back for ye, Simon. I promise.”

He puts the mask back on, and leaves.

Simon’s heart burns, his cheeks surely bright pink. He doesn’t know if it’s from the poison, or from…

No, the tight grip around his heart is definitely from the poison. An agonizing ache wraps around his chest, heavier than 6 feet of dirt. Simon’s lungs shudder for a breath.

He can distantly hear the others talk on comms, but the blood rushing through his ears prevents him from deciphering what they’re saying. Simon understands then, that this might be the end. With the poison gripping his lungs, and the lingering warmth of Johnny’s lips, Simon closes his eyes.

His last thought is of regret, that Johnny won’t be able to keep his promise.

“-The Hunter, they’re going after-”

Simon groans, unimaginable pain thumping at his head. Couldn’t death have at least taken that away from him?

The rain beats in incessant song in his head.

“-Wait for backup, MacTavish-!”

MacTavish… Johnny….. Simon remembers the kiss, his promise, and smiles. 

“-Can’t-”

“-SOAP-!!!”

Garrick sounds frantic. What are they shouting about?

Gunshots make his brows crease. Fighting someone… Where is he?

The warehouse. Price, Garrick. The Hunter.

“Johnny…” Simon rasps. A loud static is buzzing on comms. He pays it no mind.

He needs to get up. His limbs don’t shake anymore, but his lungs hurt like he breathed in sandpaper. Simon whimpers, pushing himself forward.

His rifle is laying right next to him. Trembling fingers wrap around the weapon, and with gritted teeth, Simon manages to take it with him as he gets up. He stumbles through the door, blearily noticing the trail of bodies leading deeper into the warehouse.

Simon follows the paths of blood.

He doesn’t know how long it took him to walk all the way to the central room of the warehouse, time slipping between the cracks in his mind. It’s so hard to breathe, dark spots take permanent residence in the edges of Simon’s vision.

The lights went out before he woke up, plunging the building into shades of red, the emergency lights making the blood appear black.

Only one light remains, a spotlight encompassing two figures. A crimson skull makes Simon’s steps falter.

The Hunter.

Their gun pointed directly at Johnny’s head.

It takes everything Simon has left in him to lift his gun. His lips move around a prayer, a plea to whoever is out there listening.

His fingers shake around the trigger.

He takes one last heaving breath, his eyes wide with fear.

The Hunter’s head moves from Johnny to him.

Simon shoots.

His bullet hits the Hunter’s arm, the rifle in their hands getting knocked away and sliding under a conveyor belt.

Johnny turns around, blue eyes shining in the light.

Simon smiles.

“...Simon…?” Johnny asks.

He falls unconscious not a moment later.

Several minutes earlier

Soap closes the door on the storage room. He takes a second to roughly scrub down his face. What the fuck did he just do?! Did he bloody lose it?!!

“Soap, what’s your status?” Price asks over the radio.

“Solid. Poison got Simon, left him in a storage room.”

The Captain sighs, “we will keep an eye on the door, son. He’ll be safe.” Soap exhales shakily. “More hostiles your way, keep pushing Soap.”

“Copy.”

No time to consider his fuckin’ action. He needs to focus.

He hears the rumbling steps of soldiers echoing through the empty halls, and pulls out a flash grenade. Now that he’s alone, he can start using some of his more… lethal equipment.

Soap huddles behind a filing cabinet, throwing the flash over his shoulder. Even though he covers his eyes, his vision is still painted bright red for a moment. He pops out of cover, noting the disoriented soldiers clutching at their eyes and ears, and methodically dusts them.

From here on out, it is total chaos.

Drill charges, Semtex, frags, every explosive in Soap’s arsenal gets thrown at seemingly endless waves of soldiers. He moves on instincts, hands shooting at targets his mind didn’t even register yet.

It is only when he gets to the main machinery room, that he comes back to himself.

Sentry turrets have been set up at the entrance, waiting for him.

Soap rolls away not a moment too soon, the floor he just stood on turning to shattered bits of concrete in seconds. 

“Captain, they have sentries!” Gaz yells, “Soap is pinned!”

Soap scans the room he’s in, noting the snaking cables wrapping around the sentries legs. Following them, he spots a large electrical enclosure. If he could create a shock, the sentries will stop working…

A thunder rattles the windows around them, soldiers spreading out in search of him. “On your 9, Soap!” Price informs him, and he shoots two soldiers getting too close to his position.

The rain… if he can get it to drop on the enclosure…

Soap scans the roof for any weak points. There!

“Captain, Gaz, are there any hostiles around me?” he growls into his mic.

Gaz answers, “Negative, what are you-”

“Ah’m gonna drop the power to take the sentries down, might take out the CCTV.”

One beat passes before Price replies, “understood. We will come back you up if it goes.”

“Solid copy, Captain.” Soap lines up a shot at a precariously placed piece of the roofing. With only the iron sights on his rifle, it takes precious moments to aim and finally press the trigger. The hairs on Soap’s nape raise as he hears soldiers close in on him.

Time slows as he watches the water spill down, flooding the electrical enclosure.

“He’s here! Get him!” A soldier shouts to his left.

The warehouse instantly falls dark. The electric hum stops, making Soap’s surroundings eerily silent.

He ducks away, sneaking around crates and containers, moving position to the soldiers’ flank, and just as the red emergency lights turn on, he strikes.

5 shots, and they’re down.

“The CCTVs are out, we’re making our way to you. Do not engage the Hunter alone, Soap.” Price orders through comms.

Soap lifts his hand to press the button to answer, but a new group of soldiers appears, shots wild as they spray the area he’s in. He jumps back, searching for his attackers, tracking the glint of the gunmetal. He shoots them, bodies falling, and for a moment he believes he’s in the clear.

Pinpricks at the back of his neck make him turn.

Soap’s eyes widen as he comes face to face with the Hunter.

They stare at each other for a second, before the Hunter simply walks away.

Back towards the way he came from, towards… Simon!

“Soap?! Soap, give me sitrep, now!” Price yells, snapping him out of shock.

“Price, the Hunter, they’re going after Simon!” Soap doesn’t have time to figure out how the Hunter knows that, no time to figure out how he knows that.

“Wait for backup, MacTavish! That’s an order!”

“I can’t let Simon die, Captain!”

At those words, the Hunter snaps their gaze to him, and with near inhuman speed, lift their gun and shoot.

Pain shoots through his right shoulder, making him drop his gun. Soap bites down a scream of agony, the burning of the gunshot spreading down his arm.

“SOAP-!!!”

The butt-end of a gun comes at his head, Soap falling to the ground on his back to avoid it.

A single light turns on above them, the sharp shadows casted on the grotesque red skull mask hiding the Hunter’s eyes.

The commander circles him, Soap crawling towards his gun. If he could only-

The Hunter kicks it away, the firearm clattering when it hits one of the metal support structures keeping the warehouse’s roof up. The reverberating sound bounces on the barren walls.

“I’ll never let ye kill Simon.” Soap snarls, desperation clawing at his chest. He frantically searches for an exit, a way to stall the Hunter, before they line the barrel of their rifle with his head.

He’s going to die here, Soap realizes.

He won’t be able to fulfill his promise to Simon.

A shot from behind him makes him jump, the bullet hitting the Hunter’s hand, making their gun fly off and land under a conveyor belt.

Soap turns around, heart beating out of his chest.

Simon stands behind him, his form shaking, face even paler than usual, standing out against the red lights.

“...Simon…?” 

Simon crumples, body falling heavily to the ground.

“-NO-!” Soap rushes to him, when a blade unsheathing makes him freeze.

The Hunter is flexing their injured hand, a knife held tightly in the other. Soap growls.

So this is how it’s going to be, huh?

Soap searches Simon for a moment, unsheathing his knife. The blade is long and cruel, one he’s seen take so many lives in the short time they’ve known each other. It’s only fair it will take one more.

Soap gets his feet under him, grunting at the pain from his wound.

They start circling each other, waiting for the other to strike first. The Hunter’s head moves for a second away from him, to look at Simon.

That’s when Soap rushes in, knife in his left hand, slicing at the Hunter’s other arm. He jumps away before the commander can retaliate, and they start trading blows.

Soap manages a cut at their wrist, bright red blood mixing with their uniform. The Hunter slashes at his injured shoulder, making Soap yell.

He disengages for a moment to catch his breath, watching the Hunter do the same. He feels doomed for a moment, when he realizes he’s fighting a soldier that bested even the Ghost.

How could he win?!

Another blow to his torso that Soap barely evades. He tries to go for the Hunter’s neck, only for them to block it, shoving Soap away with frightening force.

Think, MacTavish! You’ve always been shorter, weaker, younger than both your squad mates and your opponents!

Take those disadvantages, and make them work!

Soap inhales sharply, dodging another lethal attack. The Hunter is far stronger than him, if they managed to get a stab in…

A sharp grin stretches on his lips. Soap twirls around the Hunter, their knife predictably following with immense speed.

He lets it sink into his left shoulder, and he pushes towards it, snarling as it sinks in further.

The Hunter attempts to take it out, but it sank far too deep. Soap locks eyes with the red skull.

In a wide arc, Soap swings his knife, and slices the Hunter’s neck.

Blood sprays on his face, as the commander clutches at him, a pathetic attempt to keep themselves standing.

Soap freezes when he hears the Hunter talk.

Their voice is startlingly old, decrepit, as they whisper, “You are nothing but a Blind Man… a Beast… following… a Beast… you will not be more than that… you will die… monsters…..”

The Hunter’s grip slips from his biceps, and they fall to the ground, dead.

Soap stares at the blood spreading on the floor, as an unsettling sense that this has happened before washes over him.

He shakes it off when his eyes drift away towards Simon’s still form.

Soap falls to his knees, frantically searching the Hunter’s body, “Fuck, c’mon, c’mon…”

His fingers brush over a set of vials and syringes at their hip, and he yanks them off, trembling fingers slipping while he tried to get the liquid in the syringe.

Once he manages to fill one, Soap throws away the rest, crawling to Simon and tilting his head to access his neck. The poison has blackened his veins, the injection site the epicenter. Soap stabs it and pushes the liquid from the needle into Simon.

He sits back, arms pulsing pain from both of his wounds, the Hunter’s knife still in his shoulder.

“Simon… Mo leannan, please.” his eyes start to water, uncoordinated hands pawing at Simon’s chest, “please, wake up…”

He places a bloody hand over Simon’s cheek, tears now streaming down his face, “I kept my promise… I told you I’ll come back, right?” his voice cracks, “now ye just have to come back to me… Please…”

Soap feels his adrenaline waning, leaving him tired, so fucking tired. He rests his head on Simon’s chest, sobbing at the stillness of it.

“I…” Soap closes his eyes, “I wanted to tell ye…” his exhales shudder out of him, “I love ye…”

Ba-dump

Soap stills. Did he imagine…?

Ba-dump

Ba-dump

Ba-dump-Ba-dump-Ba-dump-Ba-dump-Ba-dump-Ba-dump-

“Fuck…” Simon groans. Soap’s head shoots up, and his brown eyes soften, “Johnny?”

Soap barks a laugh, blinking away tears.

Simon’s eyes trail down, to the knife in his shoulder, “fucking ‘ell, Soap, how did you manage that?!”

“The Hunter…” 

“Is he…” Simon stares behind him, at the growing puddle of blood, “fuck, Johnny, you took him out by yourself?”

“You and me, Simon.”

Simon smiles up at him, dark eyes breathtakingly deep. He sighs a moment later, slowly getting up to walk to the body of the commander. Soap follows.

Simon takes hold of the red skull mask, staring intently at it before taking it off.

Beneath it, was a face Soap feels he’s seen before, yet in the weeks following, he could not remember. The only feature burned into his memory were the four scars slashed across the Hunter’s face.

The claws of an animal.

Simon examines the mask. It looks similar to Ghost’s, but the red skull is sculpted to look furious, a permanent frown on it.

Simon offers it to Soap, who gives him a confused look.

“You’ve earned it.”

Soap stares at Simon, before taking the mask. 

The two of them swivel their heads back when a pair of footsteps sound through the hallway behind them. Simon slides a knife down his sleeve, ready to fight, when the source is revealed to be Price and Gaz.

“Soap, bloody hell mate, we told you to-” Gaz’s brows slowly rise as he registers Simon, and then the mask in Soap’s hand.

Price approaches them, “the antidote…?”

“Administered.” Soap says, “it’s over.”

The warehouse falls silent as they process the words.

The Hunter is dead.

It is done.

Page 63 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 17:

And the Beast attacked, cruel claws reaching the hunter, His eyes blinded, by blood and rage, And the Beast says to the Blind Man, you will fight as equals. The Blind Man, the Fallen Knight, Takes a sword, and strikes the hunter down, And as his blood became one with the dirt, the hunter tells, You are not but a Blind Man, not but a beast following a beast, You will not be more, you will die Monsters. And the hunter falls silent, forevermore belonging to death.

[vigilskeep]

do you have a preference for bethany as a grey warden or circle mage? or does it depend on your hawke?

all bethanys are good bethanys but i’ve come to the conclusion that circle mage bethany will always be first in my heart and i’d LOVE to discuss why

act 1 bethany feels powerless and lonely. she hasn’t had a fellow mage at her side since her father died. she’s caught between guilt at what her family has had to sacrifice for her sake, and resentment that it’s a sacrifice she never even asked them to make. she didn’t choose to be an apostate like her father did. nobody ever gave her the option if she wanted to spend a lifetime on the run, endangering everyone who loves her, rather than accept the world she lives in. she’s a twenty year old who just lost her home and half her family; is it really any wonder that she’s as drawn to the relative stability of a life in the circle as she is afraid of it? a life where she wouldn’t be marked out and isolated, but among people like her, who understand more than even the most well-meaning non mage sibling ever could? why does being born a mage make it her job to fight this, instead of take the life she’s given?

a bethany who goes to the wardens is pushed there by her desperate sibling; a bethany who goes to the circle personally agrees to come willingly, despite hawke’s protests. it’s a minimal but very defining change in agency. her experience in the circle, too, is what she makes of it. we see little of the life she builds there, but she is clearly able to excel and be recognised for her own merits; even if it weren’t mentioned in her dialogue how impressed they are with her training, and in her letters how she has taken on the role of helping with the young initiates who also in game clearly look up to her, we constantly see her at the first enchanter’s right hand. bethany’s circle mage dialogue in the dlcs—some of the best dialogue in the game, imo—makes it clear that not fighting the circle is a choice she’s made. she tells anders, “i’m not leashed”, “i can pretend to be miserable if you want, but i’m not”. she tells aveline, “life is what i need it to be.” if hawke offers to help her escape, she says the circle is comfortable... for now. she’s smart, she’s capable of defying and deceiving the templars when required, and she’s making her own decision to do her best within the circle and see what comes of it. maybe it’s not healthy for her to give in to her imprisonment. in protective older sibling mode, i hate to see her talk like that about the mistreatment and danger she faces, as if it’s acceptable. but what both hawke and bethany can get from the circle mage route is that her life outside the circle can’t really be freedom either until it’s her choice

in the circle mage route, bethany can’t be badgered into learning her own self-worth by well-meaning lecturers. she has to learn from her own experiences, and choose the mages’ fight on her own terms. thematically, i think it’s one of the most compelling thoughts on the topic of the circle that da2 has to offer: someone with an open mind experiencing it, being grateful in some aspects for what it offers, exploring that it may not be as bad as some apostates fear and it may be possible to salvage a life from it, but still absolutely ultimately learning from it that mages deserve more. she says so outright: that her time in the circle is what she needed to “see the need to free my fellow mages”. not just learning the value of the life she once had and her own freedom, but taking up an active purpose that also brings into play the community she gained from the circle. it’s a brilliant, nuanced arc for her and it makes me so so proud. it also makes you see the chantry explosion with a distinct perspective and in, i think, its best light: as a call to action that sharpens the battle lines into focus, and acts as the final catalyst to let mages see what’s necessary past their fear. for me it’s hard to imagine what i couldn’t justify, watching my little sister finally believe her freedom is worth fighting for

narratively, it’s my favourite route for hawke’s overall story as well. bethany going to the circle defines the stakes of da2, with meredith’s sword permanently at your little sister’s throat, creating a desperate tone no other type of playthrough can offer. the warden route on the other hand distances her from the story, making her cameos feel sudden and stilted. the conclusion of da2 is very much about circle mage bethany, both her life and her way of life on the line, hawke finally able to defend or take up arms against the last of their family. by contrast, when grey warden bethany shows up to take whatever side hawke does, it gives the impression to me that she’s only talking like she’s completed a character arc during the last straw because, well, the writers know this is where the game ends. we don’t see or earn her progress. the circle mage bethany route also feels like hawke’s choices are really challenged, rather than hawke making an executive decision to “save” bethany in yet another way she didn’t ask for, and then basically waiting until she comes around to it and apologises for being mad

that being said, i adore bethany getting to fully express her bitterness and anger as a warden, and i think her hatred of that path makes her one of the most interesting warden characters in the entire series. it also involves her unlearning her repression of her negative feelings, a repression which absolutely continues to be at play in the way she defends her life in the circle and downplays its horrors for the sake of those that love her. the warden route definitely has its merits. also her warden staff does fire damage which is LITERALLY her thing why tf does her circle mage staff do nature damage i hate it here genuinely

[the-mandawhor1an]

The present

Chapter 7 – Guided by the stars, connected by the force

Masterlist

⇐ Previous chapter | Next chapter ⇒

Pairing: Din Djarin x original female character

Chapter summary: Having to deal with a Dragon is hard as is. Dealing with feelings at the same time makes things more complicated for Maia and Din. Who is the real monster? 

Warnings: 18+ content, MDNI! Steamy thoughts; a little awkward talk about relationships; touch-starved Din; violence (more graphic than canon, sowwy); new character introduction; A little heartbreak;  

Words: 7k 

A/N: Switching the Mando'a translations to be in text rather than by the end of the whole chapter.

Due to last night’s occurrences, their night had been cut short, especially so as they were to get up at sunrise. Luckily, Maia fell asleep fairly fast after she had listened to her companion’s even breathing and Grogu’s sleep-babbles for a while. It was peaceful despite the situation they had found themselves in, out in the open and dangerously close to a giant creature. Mando must have groaned or made some kind of noise while sleeping, possibly due to having to sleep in his full set of armor. It couldn't be comfortable to sleep while having metal poke you constantly.

How she came to the conclusion that he made some kind of noise? Well, her brain, fueled by all kinds of chemicals after that kiss, registered his whines and blessed her with some very pleasant dreams, perhaps even visions, about them taking things further. 

She felt his rough hands discover every part of her body, gently caressing her skin. His lips would ghost over her neck, her shoulders, her chest, to land on her lips. They’d kiss greedily, his groans guttural and primal. She couldn’t see him, but stars, it felt so real, especially when he’d whisper sweet nothings into her ear, that she felt so soft and warm underneath him, caged by his body – submissive but safe, protected. His fingers were buried in her hips, hard enough to probably leave bruises, holding onto her while taking her like it was the last thing he’d ever do. When she woke up she swore she could feel him everywhere. 

Maia’s head slowly rose from the tented blanket, blushing and hoping she didn’t make any noise in her sleep that would tell Mando what they had done in her dreams. She glanced over to find both him and Grogu still soundly asleep, gently snoring in unison. Part of her wished she could just cuddle up against that wide frame of his and pretend she was cold, but she needed some fresh air and distance. The memories of him clouded her mind and the last thing she now needed was him asking questions. She stood up, making as little noise as possible, and left the tent some time before sunrise. She felt surprisingly fine for getting so little sleep, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep much longer anyway. They had to leave soon and all of her thoughts raced around him. 

Some of the camp was also awake already. As Maia didn’t have any means of communication, she opted to spend some time with the children. Just outside of the camp, they waited with her. Waited for? While the shadows of the tents were still over the red sand, small creatures scooted around on the lookout for water or small insects. The Tusken children showed Maia how to hunt womp rats. While the first attempt to catch one was futile and caused a fit of laughter with the young ones, the second rat met its unfortunate fate when Maia subtly waved her hand at it, causing some confusion so she could grab the rodent. Now with the small creature on her arm, calm and allowing the kids to pet it, one of the kids tried to tell her something. »I’m sorry I don’t understand,« she said. They kept making one sign over and over, growing more frustrated with every time. Finally, one grabbed her free hand and led her back inside the camp. To Mando. 

When faced with the Beskar clad bounty hunter again, it felt a little awkward at first. »I guess we have a pet now,« she said with a smile and pet the womp rat on her arm. Grogu, who had seemed a little sleepdrunk upon her arrival, locked eyes with the animal and was suddenly very wide awake. Insatiable little booger. »Be careful,« Mando said. His voice was a little deeper and raspier than usual, surely from just waking up. A pain surged through her body as she was reminded of her dream, where his voice sounded just like that. »They have sharp teeth and claws.« The animal was calm, almost asleep on her arm. It wouldn’t hurt her. »The children taught me some hunting. I can take on the dragon now,« she joked a little awkwardly, hoping he didn’t register her change in behavior, or the fact that she shifted her weight from one leg to the other nervously. 

Maia, why do you have to make things so awkward? she asked herself. But he didn’t pick up on the awkwardness, it seemed. »In that case I’ll kick my feet up, relax and watch you.« His helmet dipped just a tiny bit. That familiar sting appeared in her neck and she cleared her throat. »The children kept making this sign,« and as best as she could, she imitated the movements with one hand, all while the rat rested on her other arm. 

»Yeah, well, um,« he stammered and shifted his weight to one foot, bending one knee slightly. »They think I’m your husband because they saw us sleep in the same tent.« Maia instantly regretted asking him, as she was certain she started blushing again. 

MY HUSBAND? 

One of the children approached them again and signed something to him. All he signed back was his index, pointed upwards as he moved it in front of his visor. It looked to her like it could mean ‘that’s my secret’ or something in that sense. She wondered what the kid asked, as it chuckled and left them to join the other children. She let her eyes follow the child in hopes this distraction would make her blush disappear. »That explains their laughter, at least.« It was awkward, more so because he was clearly embarrassed as well. It sounded like a perfect opportunity for a corny joke. 

»I must’ve missed something yesterday,« she said with a smirk. »I don’t remember being proposed to.« And as much as she wanted the joke to land, his response choked her for just a second. »Mandalorian proposals aren’t super romantic,« he stated with a shrug. Wait. That just came out wrong, right? They didn’t… what? 

»How did you sleep?« he asked her when he picked up on the return of the awkwardness. Needing a second to take a breather, Maia sat down the small rat and bit her lips when her face was out of sight. »It was okay,« she replied while she slowly rose to her feet, watching the little rat regain its senses and running to hide behind the next small dune. »I’m just … plan M anyway. You won’t want me to interfere and in the end I will do it anyway.« She turned back to face him. 

»I don’t like the sound of that,« he said and leaned his helmet to the side, as she would sometimes do. He wanted to protect her, of course he didn’t like the thought of her stepping in and possibly getting hurt. She felt the dragon after all, it was massive. »I can take care of myself. I’ll be careful, don’t worry,« she reassured him. Slowly, she bent over to stretch out her back, her spine cracking in the process. »And how did you sleep?« 

»Fine. But I’m not the one with the cracking bones,« Mando’s gaze practically burned into her skin as she bent down. When she straightened out her back again, Vanth stood beside them. »I never thought I’d sleep in a Tusken camp, to be honest. Wasn’t as bad as I thought.« A sudden bout of nausea rolled over her when she thought about what Vanth could see when he approached them: Her bent over. 

She exhaled and closed her eyes for a second. This was not the right time to freak out. »We should get moving,« Mando insisted after Vanth shot him a grin. Men… 

»I’m curious what you’ve planned,« Maia explained while they were walking towards the speeders. »The Tusken children are quite the hunters… when it comes to womp rats.« The same, broken down, rusty speeder greeted them and she was hit with the realization, that she’d have to cuddle up to Din again. 

She sat behind him and exchanged a look with Grogu back in his carrier bag. The little one was excited for the new day ahead. With a soft smile on her lips she turned around and held on to her companion. 

»They are great hunters, but the dragon is a different story. It’s big and hard to hunt due to it being under the sand,« Mando explained when they dashed across the dunes. While one hand held onto him by his waist, Maia’s other hand snaked up to the shoulder that was hidden from Vanth’s view. With every time Vanth would shoot her looks, she’d squeeze Din’s shoulder softly. Deep down she wondered, and she was a bit embarrassed by her own thoughts, what it would feel like to touch him without all the fabric separating them. If his skin felt as warm and soft as she imagined. 

Maia was unsure of how she would call whatever she shared with Din. She obviously liked him, but his point of view was completely unclear. He kissed her, but did that mean something to him? Seeing the two like this made it easy for the Tuskens to mistake them for husband and wife. They shared a tent, she was practically glued to his back, and the Mandalorian seemed extremely comfortable with the closeness. And at least from what they could tell by the little sparkle in her eyes when she looked at him, there must’ve been something. 

She wasn’t opposed to the thought of being with him. As a partner, not necessarily as his wife. 

They reached the den after a short trip. A large tunnel led deep into a mountain, pitch black on the inside. Din, Vanth, a few Tuskens and Maia sat behind a rock, watching the tunnel entrance with binoculars. Vanth scanned the tunnel and scoffed. »This is where it’s supposed to be?« and without thinking, Maia practically blurted out, »It’s sleeping.« A low rumble echoed from the tunnel if one paid attention to it. The dragon’s breath. 

»The Tusken said it lives in an abandoned sarlacc pit,« Mando explained. Vanth lowered the binoculars and handed them over to him. »Ridiculous, there are no abandoned sarlacc pits on Tatooine.« Mando shrugged. »They’re empty when you eat the sarlacc.«

A Tusken approached the cave with a bantha in tow. They shouted into the cave, the scream echoed for quite a while until the low hum of the dragon’s breath stopped and a low growl emerged. The beast made its way forward and instead of eating the bantha as intended, it went for the Tusken and ate them in one bite. »They usually sacrifice banthas to make the dragon sleep for longer. They’ve studied it for generations,« Mando explained after the failed attempt. Vanth scoffed »Well, that worked just as planned, huh?« He crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

Mando straightened his back and sighed. »Maybe they’re open to new ideas.«

They assembled around a replica of the scene before them, bones representing the dragon and pebbles to symbolize the men that they had to work this out. Maia watched from a distance, Grogu on her arm. She didn’t want to interfere with the actual plotting, so she stepped back. 

Vanth tilted his head and seemed to calculate something in his mind. »The scaling is off,« he commented. Maia wasn’t sure she agreed, the dragon was gigantic. Din exchanged a few signs and grunts with a Tusken before speaking to the marshal. »The scaling is right. What we’ve seen is just the head.« While they debated whether or not the dragon was in fact this big, Grogu extended one of his hands, maybe to force-pull one of the bones towards him. Maia shielded the small green hand with hers and softly whispered to the child »not now.« He sighed and turned to look her into the eyes, pleading with her to allow him to nibble on the sun-bleached bones. 

»Maybe we should retreat, then,« Vanth proposed. Maia looked down at the hand full of pebbles and commented »Maybe we should, we’re not enough, especially if bantha is off the dragon’s menu.« After a short exchange between Mando and the Tusken, more pebbles fell from the hunter’s hand and plop into the sand. Vanth appeared delighted. »That looks a lot better. What did you say?« »I told them your people will help us.« Maia looked over to Vanth, then back to Mando. She was certain the marshal would not agree with that plan at all. And as expected, he was far from delighted. 

»They attacked us less than a year ago. Killed half a dozen of us by the mining camp. I'd say I took down about twice as many Tuskens,« Vanth spoke with a clear irritation in his voice. As expected, kind of. But Mando wouldn’t give up so fast. »All of you want the dragon gone. You killed some of their people, they killed some of your people. This can put an end to the fighting, once and for all. Talk to the settlers. They listen to you.« 

Vanth wrinkled his forehead, but ultimately saw that was the only way. If he could actually convince his people, that is. »Guess that means: back to Mos Pelgo.«

The next few hours were a blur to Maia. The men handled the convincing, the plotting, and ultimately managed the travel back to the cave. The young brunette could not put her finger on it, but something felt uneasy to her. Maybe she was just anxious because of the sheer size of the beast. Maybe she held onto Din a little tighter when they returned to the cave. 

Maybe she was overthinking the feelings that emerged when she felt Din’s lips on hers. Maybe she warmed up to the realization that Raymond might have been right about ‘the stranger’ after all. This connection she felt meant something. She couldn’t quite put a name to it yet, but the suspicion she had made her heart jump whenever she thought about it. 

Din overlooked the Tuskens and Settlers as they dug out trenches in the sand to hide the explosives they had collected in Mos Pelgo. The plan sounded easy enough, although not foolproof. Lure the dragon out and then blow it up. 

Maia busied herself with Grogu, hiding from the glaring suns beside the speeder bike. Every now and then, though, she caught herself staring at the Mandalorian, thinking back to what she had said about plan M. There was some mutual sympathy no one could deny, but with that the fear grew. The fear he'd do something stupid to save her. 

Grogu could sense her inner turmoil and made a questioning noise. That snapped Maia back into reality and she gently pat his head. »Let's hope their plan is good enough for a 200 ton dragon.« Grogu agreed with a coo. She smiled at the child. The little troublemaker had really grown on her, she liked spending time with the child. From her peripheral, Maia could see Din approach them and her eyes rested on the black visor. 

»Maia. If anything happens to me,« he sighed and extended his hand to rest it on her shoulder, thumb caressing over the fabric of her cloak. Din was worried about this dragon and while he hoped to come out of this unscathed, he had to make sure some matters were taken care of. »Will you take care of Grogu for me and help him find a Jedi? I trust you.« Maia turned her head to watch his hand, until she gently laid a hand of hers on his glove, turned back to face him and nodded.

»I promise to look after Grogu until he’s in safe hands.« A smile formed on her lips as she felt his fingers squeeze her shoulder gently. »Please don’t risk your life to kill the dragon, though. No one wants you to play hero just because you know that someone can take care of Grogu. I know I don’t.« 

»I won’t play hero if you don’t implement plan M,« Din retorted, a smile audible in his voice. »It’s – just in case. Ret’lini.« »Ret’lini,« she repeated, the word rolling off of her tongue surprisingly easy. She glanced over to both of their hands, her thumb smoothing over the worn leather of his glove. Despite being out in the open, this little gesture felt so intimate – so significant. Touching him felt good. It felt natural, despite this being the first time they touched like that. 

The urgency he suggested with his approach just now made her worry. Was is in the realm of possibility that he would meet his fate today? There was a chance, and if he wanted to make sure his matters were addressed, maybe she had to talk about something as well. Ret’lini. 

»Let’s hope it all turns out alright. It’s obvious that I don’t want you to die and I doubt you want to die, either. But there is a slim chance it happens and I …« I won’t let you die. »Something has changed. I’m not sure what it is yet, but what I do know is that I like you, Din. I like you and I would like to repeat what happened yesterday. and maybe more. Some day.« 

It was like he was frozen. His hand twitched ever so slightly under her fingers, but it took a moment for him to gather his thoughts. »That… would be nice,« was all he could muster up at first. She felt his eyes burn on her skin as he found the right words. »You’re right. Something has changed. I like you too, mesh’la.« 

Mesh’la? What did it mean? She knew it was something in Mando’a and not a name-slip, and she felt heat rush to her cheeks. He liked her. Din’s hand slowly let go off her, something both seemed to dread. »We’re almost ready,« he announced. 

Positioned behind the speeders, Vanth, Mando and the two non-jedi watched as the dragon did not run into the trap they had set up. While the head came out of the cave and the detonations hit something, presumably its throat, it was not enough to fatally wound the beast. Instead, they angered it. It didn’t hesitate to let its anger known, spitting acid over the settlers and Tuskens that were unfortunate enough to stand too close. They screamed as their bodies dissolved into the sand, all while the dragon retreated back into the cave and vanished. While the first attack had been short, the casualties were high and they knew: it wasn’t over. 

Maia felt the giant creature burrow underneath the sand and working its way through the mountain before them. If it managed to break out somewhere at the top and spit acid again, they would lose more people, too many to make it worth all of this. One thing was certain: she was only person that could save them right then and there. If she didn’t interfere, they would die. Despite her agreement with Din to not make haste decisions, she had to act: That calls for plan M. She jumped over the speeder and sprinted forward, faster than Din could even register what was going on. Fast enough so he couldn’t stop her. 

She felt his gaze burn into her as she stumbled across the sand, more jumping than actually running. Surely enough, the dragon emerged from the rock and rained more acid over the people in the valley, without any chance of evading their certain end. Maia raised her hands to shield the others from the acid with a force barrier, which Vanth and Mando took as an opportunity to attack the creature from the air. It got annoyed enough by the shots that it burrowed in the mountain once more, allowing her to catch her breath. Using the force was exhausting, causing her to sink into the sand beneath her. 

Child of the force, I can feel you

a voice echoed in her mind. She looked around, no one was around that this voice could have belonged to. What was going on? Both Vanth and Din landed back in the sand a little away from her, but the dragon was still under them, still alive, still very angry. She couldn’t make out what the men said, but suddenly Vanth flew a few meters away from Din, plopped down into the sand. All the marshal and Maia could do was watch the Mandalorian grab the Bantha with the remaining explosives and get swallowed whole by the dragon. 

She stared into the pit in the sand with utter disbelief. That was it? »Din, please don’t do this to me,« she whispered as tears formed in her eyes. She felt a pain form in her heart, when suddenly the dragon re-emerged from the sand, blue flickers of light shining through its skin. A scream disrupted the grieving silence as Din flew out the opened mouth of the beast. The remote for the explosives still in his hand, he activated them and the dragon blew up into pieces. the shockwave knocked all over who were too close, including Maia and Vanth. A cloud of sand got kicked up and obstructed their view for a moment. Mando landed a few seconds after the detonation, covered in saliva and other gunk from the creature’s mouth. 

He landed close to Vanth and helped him back to his feet. They exchanged a few words, Vanth nodding her way, until the helmet turned to her and the sting returned. »Maia…« his voice was soft when he saw the dark trails the tears had left on her sand-stained face. His right arm flexed and she saw his fingers bend. He wanted to touch her, she could tell. »It’s okay. The dragon is dead, we can leave.« The green goop on his armor could have been more of the acid, but the urge to embrace her was palpable. He was so tense, frozen in place unsure what to do. She felt the same way, and when she stood up onto unstable legs, before he could approach her to steady her, sand got thrown his way. A lot of sand, hitting him with enough of an impact to almost push him over. The sand stuck to every last bit of moisture on his suit, practically drying him in an instant and rendering any bit of acid not dangerous to the fabric on his or her frame. 

As mad as she was about his actions, the relief she felt when she saw he was unscathed made her forget that she almost lost him so fast after finding him. With wobbly steps, she ran towards him and crashed into his chest and hugged him tight enough that it hurt her. For a moment she feared he’d push her away, until one of his arms carefully wrapped around her. A display of mutual feelings, of what they had talked about before this went down. Maia felt conflicted: She liked him, it was obvious. And he liked her. But as quickly as they found each other, they could lose another just as fast. 

The voice still lingered in the back of her mind. 

I can feel the dichotomy in your heart. Let me help you. 

She lifted her face to look into that visor. A small glare lingered in her eyes when she warned him »don’t you ever do that again.« She wiped her face with her sleeve, not cleaning it but drying the tears. He just stared at her. At least that what it felt like when the helmet didn’t move, he just breathed, his chest armor pushing into her. Maybe she crossed a line when she hugged him. Maybe he didn’t want her to display her feelings so publicly. 

Reluctantly, she let go off him, sighed and walked over to the speeder to check on Grogu. The child looked at her with confusion. He felt her conflicted emotions, and also the feelings that plagued his bodyguard. As a child not much made sense to him yet, the adults behaved weird in his opinion. 

It didn’t take long for Din to follow and Vanth also approached the speeder to hand over the armor. Din had taken a part of the dragon’s flesh as payment. »Thank you for your help, Mando,« the marshal addressed him first, before turning his head to the brunette. »Thank you for protecting my people. I’m sure they’re glad you risked your life for them.« Not one word fell about her powers. Perhaps he knew it was better not to mention it. 

»Let’s go back to Mos Eisley,« Mando said to his companion with a nod. He and Vanth shook hands, as men did. The silver-haired only winked at the young woman, earning a warm smile in return. This time Maia sat down in front of the speeder. She didn’t want to be close to the other armor nor to the chunk of still warm meat. 

Din sat behind her, holding onto her waist with one arm when she revved the engine. As soon as they were out of sight, she felt his arm tighten around her body. It’s as if he wanted to hug her, again, for longer this time, now that no one could see them. She relaxed and practically melted against his chest. His thumb stroked along the curve of her waist. Part of her wished he could take that helmet off to kiss her neck. She couldn’t see him, neither could Grogu. 

She lowered the speed of their vehicle to release one of her hands from the handlebar. Her fingers grazed over his biceps, feeling the muscles flex under her touch. »You really scared me,« she complained, but softly. She squeezed him gently, earning a grunt from underneath the helmet. »I’m sorry,« he replied. »I had no time to explain.« 

The speeder was now slow enough that no one had to fear falling off, gliding over the sand like it was an undisturbed water surface. Soft, almost like a caress. She leaned the side of her head against his helmet and closed her eyes just for a moment. »I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t utilize plan M either. I know, you rescued a lot of people but now they know.« She opened her eyes but looked straight ahead. Her hand wandered upwards into the back of his neck. Her fingers dipped underneath his helmet to run through his hair. »Can’t say I’m not impressed but both of us risked a lot today,« he whispered. The sudden sensation of her finger in his hair made him whimper softly. He scooted closer to her, his body molding to hers to be as close as possible. 

»I couldn’t let them die. There was only one person that was capable to save them: Me. They won’t tell anyone.« His second arm moved so he could place a hand on her thigh. He squeezed her gently and rested his helmet against her head and shoulder. »Where are we going next?« she asked. »I don’t know yet. We have to find another clue.« Din most definitely was distracted by her touch, so she pulled back. They needed to be back in Mos Eisley by dawn.  

Maia accelerated, the dunes flying past them and a cloud of sand following them. Slowly, the terrain changed, more and more rocks surfaced through the sand like islands in an endless ocean of red sand. The suns were slowly setting, their shadows turned longer and longer. As much as she would’ve enjoyed watching another sunset with Din, they needed to be in Mos Eisley by night. 

While they looked similar, the canyons they transversed were not the same ones when they encountered the Tuskens first. Smaller lizards hid in the crevices as they zoomed past, disturbed in their basking ritual. 

But lizards were far from the only living beings they would encounter on their way back. In a particular rock formation, bandits had set up a trap and Maia was running right into it. When the speeder was close, they lifted a steel wire to trip the bike, sending all passengers and the cargo flying through the air. 

While Din could catch his fall with the jetpack, Grogu and Maia were less fortunate. The child landed somewhere off to the side and the brunette hit the sand and tumbled, at least one of her bones making a cracking noise in the process. There was no time to be in pain, they were under attack and Maia’s first instinct said that these were bounty hunters. Either tasked to grab Grogu – or her. Whatever the case, the child couldn’t protect himself, as opposed to the two adults. She unhooked one of her lightsabers from her belt and activated the lavender-colored blade. 

Her eyes scanned the area to look for the foundling and when she saw one of the bandits draw close, she pushed forward. All regards for Din were forgotten in this moment, as he was capable to fight alone.  

You’re treading on a fine line. A dance on a tightrope above an endless abyss.

With one effortless swipe of her blade she felled the first bandit while sprinting over to Grogu, a second bandit approaching. With a force-push, she threw the attacker against a rock, not caring if she had knocked him unconscious or killed him in an instant. There must’ve been at least 4, maybe 5 of them, as Din was fighting with one as well. When Maia had almost reached Grogu, a shock went through her body. »Jedi!« one of them barked. She had been tased once again, the shock making her muscles spasm and forcing her to the ground. Her saber deactivated as she let go, but the hilt now laid in the sand next to her, up to grab by anyone. 

She curled up into a ball, crying out in pain as the memories of her capture resurfaced. It drove her mad.

Don’t let the darkness enter your heart.

The bandit that had shot her with the taser picked up Grogu and retreated, allowing the one she had previously thrown to get up and approach her. His eyes darted to the metal hilt in the sand right next to her. It would be easy to kill her with that, one swipe and her pretty head would lay in the sand.

As right as the unfamiliar voice in her head was, she saw no other way in this moment but to let go. Even if it was just for a moment, she needed to keep them safe. For that she had to be alive.

So she let go.

If you lose yourself, you’ll lose him too.

She flexed the muscles in her lower arm as best she could, curling her fingers in an attempt to form a fist. Neither her ears nor her brain registered she was screaming in agony, as was the bandit, as his ribs gave in to the pressure, one after another. Maias eyes were closed, welling up with tears as she gave into the pull. 

You have to learn to control yourself.

The bandit collapsed next to her and in his fall hit the cables of the taser, pulling the electrodes from her shoulder. Disoriented and on the verge of throwing up, Maia toppled over on all fours and took a few breaths, heaving once, but nothing came out. Everything around her was like a blur, but the noises of fighting had stopped. In fact, it was dead silent. 

I will help you. Wait for me. 

Maia sat back onto her knees and grabbed her saber, taking in a few deeper breaths as her vision cleared up. She was now so aware of the voice and she should have been concerned, but all that she felt was an undeniable aura of good. It radiated empathy, for her situation, for her inner conflict. The brunette looked up to see Grogu back on Din’s arm, safe and visibly unharmed. Still, her heart felt heavy as Din didn’t dare to take a step closer to her. 

You will hurt them sooner or later. 

»Are you alright?« she asked Din as she carefully got back to her feet. She knew she messed up, showing Din a glimpse of what she would’ve preferred to keep from him forever. For a second time today, she felt the urge to run over to him and hug him, but the stiffness in his body suggested he would not accept it this time. Running wasn’t possible anyway, as the leg that had been affected more by the shocks felt numb, similar to the numbness she felt on Nevarro. The dull thumping in her chest didn’t mean anything good, either. »We’re fine,« Din replied. Finally he came closer, but he approached her carefully. 

Maia gathered the last bit of strength she had to not start crying. His trust was gone, it was clear with the way he approached her like she was a wild animal. »You’re hurt,« he continued. »Can you walk? We have to walk the rest, the speeder is broken and come nightfall things will get ugly out here.« As if things weren’t ugly already. 

»It’s not as bad as it looks,« she lied, unconvincingly as she let out a whine when hooking her saber back onto her belt sent a sharp pain through her ribcage. One of her ribs must have broken when she landed in the sand earlier. But she was very much alive and not on the brink of death like last time. Who knows what consequences her outburst would lead up to. 

Taking as much of the cargo as possible, they made their way back to Mos Eisley on foot. Din carried most of the heavy stuff, the armor, the meat, the second jet pack; while Maia carried Grogu and some of the smaller items. It wasn’t much and she felt bad for having him carry so much, but she didn’t dare to say anything. Neither said anything. The emotion that radiated off of the Mandalorian was hard to decipher for the young woman. She knew a bit of disappointment was in there, but the exhaustion after the fight and her injuries made reading him all the more difficult. It hurt her deeply, knowing she had let him down after he had lowered his guard around her. It hurt worse than her physical wounds. Grogu was mostly asleep while they walked, lulled to slumber from the exhaustion and the rhythmic, gentle sway of his carrier bag around Maia’s body. 

I’m so sorry for disappointing you, Din. I hope you can forgive me until we meet again. 

Back in the city, it didn’t take long to find Peli. Basically, all they had to do was follow the noise. The mechanic ushered them back to the hangar, where she could prepare the dragon meat and maybe help Mando with some intel. Grogu watched as the meat was slowly roasted by the droids, the two self-declared bodyguards stood close to each other, but not as close as Maia had wished. »Don’t get too close,« Mando warned Grogu as the small green paws dared to reach out to the flames. The helmet turned towards his brunette companion, and suddenly the air got heavy. 

»Maia, we have to talk,« he announced and they both retreated further away from the droids, Grogu and Peli. His tone was firm and pained, like he forced himself to do this now despite feeling resentful that it had to be done. Peli complained about her speeder bike in the background, but the noise was easy to blur out when one’s heart was racing. 

»You lost control,« he stated. Instantly, Maia wanted to say something, defend her actions, but he lifted his glove. Din wasn’t done and sighed heavily. The tears that welled in the beautiful green eyes opposite of him didn’t make this any easier. »Don’t think that I’m scared of you. Because I’m not. It’s … I …« he stammered and sighed again, rested his hands against his hips in frustration. »I’ve considered taking the helmet off. The kiss occupies my mind ever since it happened and I want to kiss you again.« 

It was hard. Hard not to show much his words hurt. Yes, she was on the verge of crying, but hearing that made it so much realer. This was a farewell, she knew it. »You make me consider bending rules I never thought about breaking before. Maybe we should go our separate ways.«

There it was, the truth. His codex was important to him, she understood; more important than some feelings he had for a woman he’d known for barely three days. But the words he spoke sounded familiar. She had heard these before, but where? 

»I understand,« she replied and bit her lower lip. Her voice was quivering and she felt pathetic for being so weak in this moment, but maybe he had to witness what he did to her, what pain he caused. Crying only made it worse for the both of them. »I don’t want to hurt you or Grogu just because I can’t control myself. We’re … not good for each other. As much as I want to promise you that I can better myself, this is nothing I can do while being with you. It’s for the better if our journey ends here.« She blinked a few times, hoping it would make the tears disappear without pushing them down her face. 

»Someone or something calls for me. I’m not sure it’s not a trap, but it feels like it’s someone that genuinely wants to help me. I will answer that call and see where it leads. Whatever happens to me, I don’t want to be responsible for you losing your ways.«

As soon as these words left her lips, she remembered why his sounded so familiar. The vision they had shared when she healed her wound, in the cargo hold of his ship. Did that also mean, the last vision she had seen, that couple embraced in a kiss, was also them? Some time in the future? 

Din nodded. Again she wished she could see his face, only to see if this affected him as much as it did her. But that was the main issue. She made him want to take the helmet off. She wanted him to take it off. »I’m forever grateful for your help,« he said, his voice slowly warming up again, getting softer. »Our paths might separate here, but maybe we’ll meet again.« 

Part of her wanted to tell him. Maybe he knew, deep down, even if he couldn’t remember the visions. She smiled softly, as best as she could with still fairly tear-filled eyes. »I hope our paths lead us to a better place. I hope there are some valuable lessons waiting for me, to make me a better person. Perhaps there will be revelations in your future as well. If you realize that you need me, I won’t be far away, I promise. As long as my heart beats,« she laid her hand on her chest, right on top of her heart. »You and Grogu won’t be alone in this galaxy. It’s your choice if you want to call me or not.« 

It was hard to beat the Jedi allegations when she spoke like that. But maybe she was sick of trying so vehemently to not be something that was… her. 

»Be careful, mesh’la,« he spoke with a heavy heart. Again, he called her mesh’la. She could’ve asked him what it meant. She should have asked him what it meant, but maybe she liked to be in emotional limbo, not sure if she should feel flustered or insulted. Her instinct told her it was positive, in fact, it made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. »Try not to ‘Plan M’ your way around the galaxy.« 

»I’ll try. I’ll tell you about it when our paths cross again. I’m sure they will, when we’re ready.« She was certain they would meet again, but when and under which circumstances hadn’t yet revealed itself to her. »Take good care of Grogu and yourself, Din.« This might have been the last time that she spoke his name for a while. She looked into that visor, resisting the urge to touch the helmet, to pull him into a hug, to get any kind of last contact, because she knew, it would hurt more to let go. She turned on her heel, and every fiber of her being screamed at her to not do it. Please don’t let me leave like that, she begged him in her mind. 

As if he had heard her silent plea, he grabbed her hand. »Wait.« He pulled her back, turned her in the same movement and gently leaned his helmet forward. She knew the gesture and inched closer, until her forehead felt the cold metal of his helmet. It wasn’t the kiss she had wished for, but it was a display of affection nonetheless. »Ret’urcye mhi,« Din mumbled. There was no need for a translation. The way he said it told her enough. A single sob escaped her as she closed her eyes. »May the force be with you.«

They could have hugged, let the touch linger for longer than necessary, but Maia pulled back fairly quickly. It was inevitable and waiting it out helped no one. She left the hangar, telling Peli goodbye in passing. 

The last she heard from the hangar was the mechanic’s shrill voice, asking Mando what he had done to chase the girl off.

[bohemiandeer]

Day 1 Viktober: Toy Boat

It was the first thing he woke up to, and the last thing he expected. Hell, it was in pieces when he last saw it, from when the one day, he dismantled it in anger. Yet the little toy boat in nearly all its glory sat perfectly content right there on his desk, as intact as the day he packed it into some of his bags and ran away. Even if Viktor could tell that, it wasn't his work that put it back together again. He could tell some of the more damaged plating had been replaced, with little bits of bronze and other pieces of scrap metal intricately worked in where the exterior otherwise would've missed gaps thanks to Viktor's frustrated dismantling of the thing. There were parts of the boat that he didn't remember being there originally, and parts where the originals simply went missing over the years.

A part of him was actually impressed in his bafflement as he stared at it, inspecting every single little inch of the toy as if it was one of his more advanced creations. He didn't dare pick it up, he wanted to resist the urge, but eventually it wasn't long until it sat, cradled in a metal hand, spinning one of the rutters tentatively with a finger. How did he or whoever was responsible for this, even get the parts? He thought he threw them out. Yet here he is, staring at one of his oldest creations, in awe with it just as when he was when he first finished it as a young boy. Viktor was simply at a loss for words over it as he stared and rotated the little boat around in his hand to stare even more at the craftsmanship. It was about as big as his hand now, resting in his palm as he tipped it up a little to see that even the horn and the little balcony, they were still there. He wondered if it still worked.

But first, he wanted to know where it even came from and how his toy boat all the sudden came to be gingerly sat up on his desk so that it was right in his face the moment he woke up from his sleep. Yet, he couldn't come to any conclusion as to how, until he looked over in the corner of the house by the windowsill. Viktor wanted to know if she was still there, but, it wasn't long until that question answered itself. He couldn't see the girl by the windowsill, but he could hear her, tinkering away at, something, somewhere his desk. A groggy scan through of the lab provided nothing, it was as if she had disappeared like a ghost, even when he could sense her presence. Viktor knew she was small but surely not so small as to be practically invisible. It wasn't until he leaned over his desk to look at the other side, however, that he got his answer. There she was, the child. A small, dark skinned little thing safe for the thick web like patches of buckskin coloured skin that took up half her form, hidden from his angle even further with a head of messy dark brown hair. Her mismatched eyes more intent on the little metal bird in her hands that she had been tinkering with than the man leaned over the desk, regarding her with golden eyes. That was at least until the youngster eventually figured out she was being watched, and gradually, tilted up her head to stare back at him with big eyes as he carefully came to cradle the boat in both hands.

“Did you- Build this?”

He asked pensively with a soft nod towards the boat, as if gesturing to it. His demeanour was calm yet stern, hiding his astonishment. As if the adolescents' eyes weren't big enough already, they were almost as big as saucers as he spoke.

Though out of fear or surprise Viktor couldn't discern all that well as of yet. He could try as hard as he could but Einin overall was never quite the easiest to read, especially for one who spoke best the language of silence. The silence between them was thick but, when wasn't it? There's always been quiet around them yet, it wasn't a tense one. Instead, he got his answer as Einin slowly put her things down and signed in response. Through what little Viktor could understand from the sign language, he got his confirmation.

I fixed it, yes.

Einin signed slowly. Her head tilted to the side a little to regard him better with her natural eye as he put the boat down, handling it still like a fragile arte fact that could break in his hands at any moment now, too afraid to damage it.

“Why?”

He mused softly, wondering out loud more than actually asking the question. To which, the adolescent's lips parted and after a long moment of contemplation, she finally spoke in a voice soft and light but raspy, tinted in an accent much the same as his.

“- I couldn't bear to see it broken apart. So I fixed it for you.”

“It’s pretty…”

She uttered quietly in a voice barely used as she picked up her tools and contraption, tilting her head down timidly to resume her work. There was something child-like in that response, that made him think even more of himself when he was a boy in the sheer flustered timidity of it. Overall, it wasn't long until slowly, his more calm yet aloof exterior gave way and he couldn't fight the urge to smile anymore. Just this once.

A small, nostalgic yet melancholic smile tugged at the corners of his face as he gave a soft sigh. His tall, large frame receded back over the desk as he sat back down, crossing his arms over the expanse of metal and wood as he rested his chin in his arms, playing once again, with one the boat rutters in thought.

“-Thank you… I never thought I’d be able to see it again.”

[blackrosesandwhump]

Treasure Planet AU, Part 5

Part 4

June of Doom 2024 Day 20: “I can handle it.” | Scrape | Panic Attack | Neglect

CW: captivity, panic attack, inhuman whumpers, talk of killing him

Your skin and blood. Harvesting. The Hunter’s words echoed in Jim’s head, over and over, tormenting him. The Hunters wanted to kill him. Just like the first alien said.

Panic rose in the boy’s chest, tingling in his arms and legs. If only he hadn’t gotten separated from the first alien. If only he hadn’t slipped and fallen. If only his mask hadn’t been destroyed. If only—if only—

He started to hyperventilate. Fresh pain shot through his lungs as the liquid entered them fast and hard.

I have to get away—have to escape—I don’t want to—I don’t want to die here—

He shut his mouth tight and held his breath, clenching his fists in their restraints. The pain subsided, and gradually, so did his panic. His heart churned in his ears, its rhythm slowing just a little. Enough for the lump of fear in his throat to retreat back to his stomach. Seconds passed. He let his breath out in a burst of bubbles, then inhaled. Still uncomfortable, but not as bad as the first time.

Dang it, I’m a space pirate! I’m not afraid! I can handle it—

“Human is afraid,” observed the Hunter’s voice in his ear.

Jim started, his chains swooshing through the liquid.

Okay, yes, I am, he thought, inwardly still squirming at the idea that the Hunters could read his mind. I don’t want to die.

“And you do not want us to kill you.” Again, that apologetic tone. This Hunter seemed just a little friendlier than the other one. The one that didn’t want to wait to harvest him.

Of course I don’t! I don’t even understand why—

“Our princess is sick,” the Hunter interrupted aloud. “She needs the skin and blood of a human to live. And you, young human, are strong and healthy. We need you to save her.”

As the Hunter’s explanation sank in, Jim grew still, floating motionless in his tank. They need me to save her. I could save a princess’s life. It wasn’t an unpleasant thought, in itself. Heroes were always saving princesses in the stories his mother used to read to him.

But to save her, he would have to die.

His mind racing, Jim stared at the empty tanks lining the opposite wall. There must have been others, other humans that the Hunters had captured and tried to harvest. Other humans that had died here.

The thought made him feel sick. He swallowed hard.

Maybe, just maybe—the idea felt like a monstrous kind of hope—there was a way the Hunters could harvest him and not kill him. Just maybe. And of course he would never tell his mother. If he ever got home.

And then everything changed. Before he could think his idea toward the Hunter on the other side of the glass, a commotion erupted into the chamber. The other Hunter, surrounded by several similar aliens, all wearing the same armor and weapons. Fear rose in Jim’s throat again, fresh and terrible. He could sense it even in the tank: something was wrong.

“The princess!” growled the Hunter, charging forward. “She is dying!”

The one who’d been conversing with Jim stepped abruptly in front of the tank. The boy couldn’t see its face now, but its tone sounded grim and resigned. “Not yet. He cannot survive outside—”

The other Hunter drew its weapon, a wicked-looking, otherworldly short sword. As the alien brandished it, Jim saw its blade was discolored with dark stains.

“Now. The princess will die. We harvest the boy now, before it is too late.”

Without a word, without a glance at Jim, its comrade stepped aside, exposing the tank. The other Hunter rushed forward.

Terror. Jim had never felt such terror before in his life.

@forthetaintedsorrow-whump @whumping-to-conclusions @whumping-out-of-time @painful-pooch @kawhump

@briars7 @theelvishcowgirl

[moriartyluver]

FALSE LOVERS CHAPTER XIII

“EVERYONE..” William spoke as he stood at the front of the basement room

The entire Lord of Crime groups was currently in the London Moriarty Estate, gathered in the basement full of a plan for a recent operation that both William and (name) had been working on recently. As promised, william allowed his wife to work a lot more by his side, and as a result they had been working together at any opportunity possible: The office (which had become a lot more of a shared space nowadays), the basement, the lounge, either of their bedrooms.

Although (name) had a lot to work on already, she enjoyed working with William a lot more than running the Marquis' business for him because he was too incompetent to do it himself, or helping her parents with (home country)'s affairs. She and William had similar minds. Yes, they were still different but if they swapped brains for a day, most would not be able to tell anything had changed.

(Name) was, physically, a little more powerful than William and in a better state for fighting considering her parents had been training her from a young age,and her intuition was certainly alot stronger, causing her problem solving skills to be faster, but when she would have to retrace her steps in her thought process, it wasn't as easy as coming to the conclusion. Both of them had equally strong memory, but when it came to remembering certain events from when she was nine years of age, it became difficult for (name) and all she would see was a blur whereas William didn't speak of his childhood because he chose not to.

Still, they're thinking was still identical, and that's what made it enjoyable, although (name) wouldn't admit it, to work with William. It was the main reason why she had chosen him out of all her fellow students in university to compete with on the regular. That sense of competition was still there, although it had slowly faded as (name) had also started to give up on becoming a professor. She wanted to do so, but it was as if the ladder she had been climbing had been pulled out from under her and now she was falling. That was the worst part about being successful. When you go so high, the fall becomes worse.

"We've been thinking long and hard about the deep-seated corruption of this nation.." (name) continued on as she stood beside William.

William nodded "On that fateful day, Albert granted Louis and I a new life.." he said with a determined glint in his eye "Now it is time we repay him for that. I need not repeat, but I shall...There is a tumour in this nation known as the aristocracy, which seeks to infest its corruption into the rest of the world. They exist because of peerages in the empire..." William said as he turned around, facing a large map drawn on India paper (a type of paper which from 1875 has been based on bleached hemp and rag fibres, that produced a very thin, tough opaque white paper). On the map we're the blueprints for the Noahtic ship, which (name) had recently been heavily researching. She had received the plans using her uncle as if he were a puppet and managed to take them to William for the next act.

"There's that, but what're we meant to do 'bout it?" Moran interrupted "who do we fight?"

(Name) sat in her chair and crossed her legs "The peerages cannot disappear overnight, but there are a few things we can do as a start, isn't that right, William?"

"A start..to turn the city of London into the lowest pit of hell itself," He spread his arms out as if he were a now free bird about to take flight. "A city of crime"

Everyone else, apart from Albert and (name), had seemed surprised by this statement. Surely they wanted to improve the world, not worsen it? What was William thinking?

"Woah now..do you even know what you're sayin' ,will?" Moran questioned as he leaned back in his chair "What's the bloody point of that? I thought you wanted to fix England, not destroy it."

William turned to face his subordinate "Crime is just the means, Mr Moran."

"A necessary evil, if you will," (name) added with a tilt of her head

The blond smiled "Precisely. The end justifies the means. Like (name) said earlier, changes cannot simply happen over night. What we can do now is change people's minds."

"Their minds..?" Fred repeated in a whisper

(Name) nodded, expanding on her husband's point. "We humans act and think according to our emotions. You must have witnessed this in Durham with both the death of Miss Frida and the Baron's control over the townsfolk." She clasped her hands together "So the best way to strike these emotions.."

The atmosphere had changed instantly along with William's tone. He finished her sentence with a devilish glint in his eyes "-Is through 'Murders' "

The room went silent once more until Albert spoke up with a smirk. "I approve, will...murder has its usefulness..its very useful indeed."

'It's odd hearing that from someone who murdered his entire family..' (name) thought as she raised a brow

"In this city of London we will find countless of crimes and murder tailored to our purpose." William continued as he explained his plan. He wasn't above murdering people or using them as puppets for his ultimate goal and nobody could question it. "This city is our stage, and it's people are our audience."

Albert hummed in amusement, resting his face against his fist "All of London a theater.."

"through the theme of murder..we shall reveal to our audience the corruption which has infested this society.." William put his hand to his chest and spoke as though he were a determined leader, guiding his soldiers into battle "As the directors and producers of this play, we shall create murders full of meaning, in order to open our audiences eyes to the truth of this nation!!"

"So we get to pull the trigger?" Moran grinned "sounds fun."

"I understand your plan, Lady (name), Lord William," Fred stood up from the little stool he was seated at "But this sounds like a bigger job than any we've undertook before..I don't think we can.."

William gave an understanding smile "don't worry Fred, we've made all the necessary preparations. Not only do we have access to the noahatic via the Marquis (last name), but the secret intelligence service which Albert is in charge of will lend us their aid, so have faith that no matter what mission we shall undertake, we shall have MI6 under our control."

"Indeed. The section 6 under my control will operate from the shadows," Albert said "To them, a mission from William is no different than a mission from William. Their loyalty is guaranteed"

"Sounds like those blokes don't consider themselves apart of the army..." Moran scowled as Josephine retorted

"If being apart of the army is getting drunk and doing nothing all day apart from visiting brothels then I'm sure you fit right in." She smiled.

Moran turned to the girl and glared at her "Why you-!"

"—As I have said, the time has come, Colonel Moran." William said before moran could start cursing at the 18 year old. "It is time for us to raise the curtains. This stage is bigger than any we have ever performed on so failure is not an option."

Moran's expression of annoyance melted into a smirk "You're finally in your element!"

(Name) stood up and held up a photograph, turned away from the others. "We'd like you all to meet someone. It's time to introduce our first puppet," she tossed the photograph towards the others. In the little monochrome photo was a young man with light hair and a rather attractive smile.

"Our main character, Earl Blitz Enders."

The noahatic was to be boarded in Southampton, a 2 hour trip from London by carriage. From the line where both William and (name) were stood, they could see from the corner of their eyes Earl Enders speaking to a disguised Fred.

"Is that Lord Blitz?" (Name) heard a couple of women say. She had recognised one of them as Lady Isabella Montgomery, someone she was acquainted with. This would be easier than expected. She took this as a cue to use her socialite charm and left william to board, signalling her continuation with her role

She approached the man with a smile to hold up her facade "Lord Blitz!"

"Such an honour to meet you my lord! We didn't think we'd see you here." Lady Isabella said before turning to (name) "Isn't it, (name)?"

(Name) flashed Enders an innocent smile. Her job now was to ensure he boarded the ship properly and perhaps got irritated by a commoner on his way there. "Indeed!"

Lord Enders tipped his little bowler hat towards the three "Ladies, you must have had a rough time amongst all these peasants!"

(Name) nodded, maintaining her facade "You can't imagine, my lord!"

She turned to see William watching them and smiled as if to say 'I have this all under control'

His red eyes narrowed into a glare at the Earl but smiled back at his wife.

'The target, Earl Blitz Enders, a young lord amongst the nobles of London who has recently inherited his family's wealth and estate. Arrogant and showy, yet with a good looking face to have a good reputation among the high born ladies as well as a voice in upper class society.' He thought 'His hobby is deer hunting, a typical thing among the aristocracy, however...it is said that his hunting ground has a 'werwolf' so he warns people to not approach it if they value their life. Yet, that very story caught the attention of vagrants and children from the city. Some say that whenever someone wanders into his hunting ground, he would hunt them like animals and blame it on the werewolf.'

"Right, time to go ladies!" Enders grinned as he wrapped his arms around the shoulders of the women "let's board our ark!"

(Name) felt disgusted for a moment, but for the sake of William and his plan, she endured. It wouldn't last much longer anyways.

The rest of the afternoon, William and (name) had spent time together, promenading through the ship whilst keeping an eye on Enders to ensure everything was going to plan. They had remained, practically glued to one another until they had arrived near the entrance of the dining hall where they had heard the Earl complaining aloud.

"I don't have a reservation for the dining hall?! What is the meaning of this?! I have proof of the reservation right here!! Blitz Enders!!" He yelled with an entitles tone, expecting others to unquestionably be at his beck and call

The waiter stuttered nervously "P-Please forgive our carelessness my lord! The system is still new so there are some who may be unfamiliar with it-"

Enders leaned towards the man, a vein ready to pop out of his forehead "I see, so in other words, you're telling me, an Earl...to dine whilst sitting amongst cattle, are you?!"

(Name) felt disgusted even hearing his voice. He may have been attractive but that didn't seem to make up for his awful personality.

"N-No such thing, my lord!" Exclaimed the terrified waiter

"I do not want anyone other than the distinguished to interrupt my meal, is that understood?" Enders said as he stood up

"Y-Yes my lord, I understand! I shall get you a table right away-!"

From her peripheral vision, (name) could see a little girl running towards a working class woman near the 'gentleman'

"Mother!" The little girl called out as she held her icecream in the air, which had ended up on the back of Ender's tuxedo. He looked over his shoulder and gave the girl a deadly glare "Ah-"

"I'm so sorry, my lord!" Her mother apologised.

The nobleman laughed it off "H-Haha..do not mind it ,Madam.." He kneeled down to whisper in the girls ear "If you run into me again, I'll throw your mummy off the ship~"

The girl instantly ran away, clearly afraid as she clinged onto her her mother, sobbing into her dress "Uwahhhh, mummy!!"

Instead of helping Enders clean the stain off while the girl's mother repeatedly apologised, (name) went over to the pair and offered to treat the girl to another ice cream in an attempt to calm her down. Although she had no younger siblings, nor any younger cousins, she somehow managed to work well with children. There had been the occasional visit to an orphanage or aiding a lost child but that couldn't explain her natural talent to instantly calm a child. She had brought the mother along to the top deck, buying her a meal along with the ice cream.

She hadn't felt like having dinner that night and instead remained up at the top deck, seating herself at a small round table with a pad of paper and pencil, gazing at the masts and enjoying the sound of the waves crashing against the sides of the ship. It was a fine distraction from her thoughts, which were now consumed by various equations and theories, instead of worries of motherhood and lack of an heir.

(Name) had been doing various calculations for a while, enjoying the tranquil atmosphere until she saw a group of people making their way up to the top deck. A man surrounded by multiple women.

Narrowing her eyes at them in curiosity, she eavesdropped on their conversation while they walked about.

"..that gentleman was just as skilled as you were, Mr Holmes!" One woman spoke in awe

"We still haven't finished our bet though, you need to guess a few more professions before we can end it." Another woman reminded.

The ravenette surmounted by the ladies looked around for a muse for his deductions, not finding anyone particularly interesting. The noblewoman heard him say something about not finding anyone nearly as intriguing compared to the man form earlier.

'What man from earlier..?'

(Name) turned back around, focussing her eyes on the calculations. Unknown to her, the detective was watching her closely whilst his acquaintances tried to suggest different men to guess the professions off.

"That one" he said, pointing to (name) who had the bottom of a pencil held to her chin, tapping it thoughtfully, then scrunching up the paper after tearing it from the notepad and begun drawing.

"Lady (last name)?" One woman questioned "But she doesn't have a profession, she's a woman, of course.."

"I'm not one for gossip but I heard she may be infertile," Another chimed in "Poor soul.."

Sherlock Holmes was not listening though. Instead, he was approaching (name) who was so deep in though she hadn't heard his footsteps getting louder. He sat down on the chair opposite her.

"Mind if I sit here?" A voice with a cockney accent spoke to her. (Name) raised her head in surprise as she continued twisting her wedding ring around her finger. There were other seats throughout the top deck. Was she the one he wanted to make deductions about?

"Not at all," she smiled 

"Cheers mate," he sighed and pointed his finger at (name) who looked at him in surprise of his casual nature. She noticed a little skull ring, which seemed to have been hand crafted "You're a mathematician, aren't you?"

"That's quite the assumption, sir." (Name) smiled before smirking at the man before her "Pray tell, how did you come to such a conclusion?"

The women she had seen earlier had followed Sherlock, standing behind him as he made observations. "Another mathematician..?" One whispered curiously

"That was a deduction, not assumption. There's a difference between the two, although I'm assuming you know that," He said "I've been down there, watching you for a few minutes before I came over 'ere..An upper class woman, clearly of well birth and upbringing considering not only your attire, but also your mannerisms."

(Name) raised an eyebrow, listening as the detective spoke of his observations, still fidgeting with her ring. “So how did you deduce I had an interest in mathematics?”

“I noticed you were looking up at the mast..a well crafted piece, ain’t she? Perhaps you were just watching it while thinking about your husband—“

“—And you realised that based on my wedding ring.” (Name) interjected. “Not the most advanced observation, I must admit.”

“But you were also fiddling with your ring, meaning you were worried about your marriage, not exactly your husband.” Sherlock smirked as he lifted his left arm and rested it on the back of the chair “You came up to the top deck and watched the mast flowing in the wind to distract yourself from this problem in your marriage, possibly an issue of offspring, you did briefly look over to a child earlier with a seemingly sad expression..I digress. If you were simply admiring it, you wouldn’t have stationary with you…Could this woman have an interest in art? No, you could’ve been painting the sunset instead, not to mention, your sketch isn’t very artistic..” he continued as he watched (name) expression shift momentarily into one of anxiety yet frustration then back to a smile.

“Architecture, perhaps? But if you were, there were multiple other parts of the ship to view better architecture. An engineer? Again, there are better opportunities for musing over such things around the ship.” The detective stated “Looking closer at your sketch, the masts you were drawing were quite different from the ones on the ship and look like they’ve been drawn from memory.” He took the scrunched up paper beside (name)’s elbow and uncrumpled it “There are equations on this, which points to only one possibility..”

(Name) interrupted “That’s not exactly fair to use as proof though, is it? You hadn’t seen that paper before now.”

“Is Euler familiar to you?” Sherlock asked

“..Euler..?” One of the women beside him repeated in a mumble

“The drawings and the indents on the sketch from the first piece of paper both align with each other.” The ravenette smiled “Euler participated in a challenges from the Paris Academy of Science back in 1730 ish-“

“1727.” (Name) corrected as Sherlocks smirk widened.

“Yeah whatever,” he sighed as he leaned back in his chair as he shut his eyes “The challenge was asking what the best way to arrange masts on a ship was. He answered it using maths instead of practical engineering. Most mathematicians nowadays wouldn’t care too much for it, but you seem to have an obsessive passion for the subject. And yet, as a woman, you are unable to peruse your passion properly..”

“I’m impressed.” (Name) smiled once he completed. “How about, in exchange for you humouring me, I make a few deductions about you, Mr..?”

Sherlock opened an eye. Another challenger, today was his lucky day “Sherlock Holmes, Mrs..?”

“Lady (name) Moriarty.” (Name) leaned forwards, engaging in the conversation a lot more than earlier. This was possibly the first time she had found another like minded person since William, and yet he seemed completely different. “ Mr Holmes, do you have a brother by any chance?”

Sherlocks expression soured. “Unfortunately I do, you know ‘im? Don’t tell me you’re friends with mycroft..”

“Friends would be a lot more..affectionate than our actual relationship. We’re merely…acquainted. Not exactly for positive reasons.” (Name) trailed off. Mycroft Holmes was certainly not her friend. More like a man who had to suffer from all of (name)’s schemes, the moment she entered the country. “Allow me to make a few observations?”

“Please do,” The man said. He seemed bored after his last encounter and now his interest has been piqued yet again. Not to mention, this woman seemed to know Mycroft yet not be affiliated with him. That made her all the more intriguing.

“You have a rather frequent drug usage habit, you were born and raised in Yorkshire but were likely moved to London in your childhood.”

“You were raised in a foreign country, but moved to England in your adolescent years for education purposes, your accent is still there slightly but not that strong.”

“You have oxbridge level education, and work as a freelance detective. You speak with a working class, cockney accent despite this, and I must apologise for bringing up your brother, but with him in mind, you choose to speak like this, showing you have little care for the social hierarchy or basic etiquette.”

“You were one of the top in your class during university and likely received a degree despite being a woman. You adhere to etiquette because you come from a prestigious family, and not just any noble family but you are likely the only daughter of a duke or even royalty”

The two geniuses began firing various observations and deductions at one another, letting their competitive spirits shine through.

“You’re hobbies consist of violin and martial arts, aswell as engaging in chemistry experiments, all observed through your hands, your build and flexibility and that stain on the hem of your jacket.”

“You’re trained in sword fighting as well as hand to hand combat. You have a passion for reading, Shakespeare specifically but also gothic literature. You write frequently, and likely study to the point of overexertion as you have a callus on your finger. Your hands frequently are stained with ink but are currently clean despite the greyness on your palm”

“You aren’t married or engaged nor are you in a serious courtship, which I observed based on your casual interactions with the opposite sex.”

“Your current relationship with your husband is complicated despite having feelings for him. You worry about infertility and your capability as a mother.”

(Name) glowered at Sherlock, and uttered one final observation.

“Finally, you relied heavily on your mother as a child land your father was likely absent or deceased for a part of your life. You have no female siblings either. Because you relied on your mothers so much, and dare I say, you had a mother complex, you find it difficult to take basic care of yourself, whether it be in your attire or unruly hair.” She said as Sherlock looked defeated. “Perhaps ‘Mummy’s boy’ would be a perfect term to describe you.”

“Mummy’s boy..?!” The detective seemed taken aback. (Name) stood up from her seat and bowed her head.

“Farewell, Mr Holmes. I hope to see you in the future, and perhaps become your friend too, considering you likely have none yourself.” (Name) gave an innocent smile “Now, I am off to the lounge.”

Sherlock looked surprised but laughed “Haha! You’re a funny one, ain’t ya? Well, bye then, friend!” He waved as (name) walked away.

One of the ladies sighed.“I suppose he won the bet then..”

A/N: someone please praise me for my dedication. the amount of research I had to for this chapter omg. Also eulers identity was mentioned in the kidnapping chapter from the manga so I thought it’d be funny to add his mast theory too. There was a parallel between Sherlock and William’s first meeting with (name) btw. I like how this chapter turned out although it was dialogue heavy but whatever. I’m sorry for not adding the fl getting drunk but this chapter. I couldn’t really fit it in and I’ve been working on this all day. It’ll be good tho I promise

[yandere-fics]

FUCK IT. Alpha Darling meeting Selene at a bar. I almost died several times trying to write this.

Fuck the day had been long and you were happy to be nursing a drink at the bar, you took a swig and looked at your glass. Thankfully tomorrow was a day off so you could at least rest and relax instead of having to dread more work. "Well hello there little dove." You looked up to see a smiling face looking down at you, you wondered how tall she was to pull this off. "I couldn't help but notice such a beautiful looking thing sitting at the bar, all alone." You watched her circle to the empty seat beside you and boy was she stunning, she was the tallest beauty you had ever seen from an alpha before. "Hey little dove, are you perhaps waiting for someone?" You shook your head, you never really had time nor did anyone yet catch your eyes. "No? Its hard to believe such a little dove like you would be all alone, but it gives me a chance to talk with you without worrying about interrupting something."

Wait was she hitting on you? "I hope I'm not coming off as too aggressive with my advances." She was hitting on you, she absolutely was. "You know I'm an Alpha and not an omega right?" She smiled and gave a nod at your question. "Of course I've noticed you're an Alpha, little dove..." You watch as she leaned in closer and cupped your chin as she spoke in a whisper. "Such a thing isn't a deterrent at all, I enjoy the company of cuties like you. Its also not like two Alphas can't enjoy each other and have fun together. I won't lie though, you smell absolutely divine." Fuck, she must really want you. You probably look like a delicious meal to her and she's more than likely to pounce. She slowly pulled away and brought her hand back.

She seemed to look around the bar before looking back at you with her smile. "I'm sure the other here don't notice your mouthwatering scent but I sure do. Those delicious little pheromones you're releasing... They do all kinds of things to me..." Oh gods she was going to devour you, you began to squirm a bit in your seat and she seemed to pick up on it slightly. "Poor little dove, you have nothing to be nervous about, I'm just teasing you... Unless you want to have some fun with me back at my place." You looked up at her and you couldn't tell if you should run or not, especially since a part of you was actually considering her offer. After all, you were curious what she'd be like in bed.

"I like that look in your eyes, little dove. You seem curious but you're also quite visibly nervous." You felt her place a gentle hand on your cheek and stroke your face with her thumb. "Don't worry my little dove, I won't force it if you don't want it. I know a giant woman can be quite intimidating for a beautiful girl like yourself... Again, I just wanted to chat you up and see if it goes anywhere. You rarely see such a lovely Alpha like yourself after all. I'll be staying here a while if you change you mind though, little dove."

You watched as she left you alone to ruminate on what she said and how she made you feel. Were you seriously contemplating letting her fuck you into the mattress? You looked to your drink and took a swig as you thought about her more and more. How gentle of a giant could she be? Would she even bother being gentle with you? It wouldn't be easy to come to a conclusion, and certainly not before you finished your drink. You'd have to face the music eventually, might as well get it done soon.

You can't believe you were doing this. You spotted her again and slowly walked over, when she noticed, she couldn't help but smile. "Hey little dove, I was wondering when you'd come join me. How about you sit with me so we can have a drink together." You looked up to her, tilting your head. "Are you sure?" She could only chuckle at the possibility of being eager for her. "I insist little dove, the night is still young so we have no reason to rush anything. I know there aren't any seats left, but my lap is feeling kind of empty... I'm sure a cute little dove like you will have enough space." You decided to oblige her, taking a seat on her lap. "Good girl."

You leaned back in her lap and relaxed into her a bit, though you heard some giggling before a low growl registered in your ears. "Hey you lot... She's an Alpha and you will give her the respect she is due..." You watched as the other girls seemed to shrink in fear, having gone silent under her gaze. You felt a nagging sensation in the back of your mind and decided to ignore it. You wondered if she was only like this with you when you felt her hand on your thigh, slowly looking up at her inquisitively.

"Don't mind my hand little dove, it just loves to caress the thigh of cute little doves that sit in my lap." You bit your lip, her hand was massive and you began to wonder what it was capable of. "If you dislike it I can stop, but by the way you're biting your lip I don't think you want me to. So tell me little dove..." She leaned down so she could whisper to you. "Have you ever been with an omega?" The question caught you off-guard and you began to flush and squirm. You've never had time for such things. "Oh, what a cute an innocent reaction you have Little dove."

You began to focus on her hand and she cupped your chin to make you look at her. "Don't focus on my hand creeping up your leg Little dove. Focus on my voice. You know... I can smell you little dove, I've noticed you're unable to control your scent of arousal and fear... I'm also certain you've noticed how my cock is pressing against your cute little ass, straining to be released from my pants so it can pump you full of my cum..."

Fuck, you were trying to be polite and not mention anything. She must really want to fuck you if she was playing along for a good while. She began to laugh slightly, and you had an idea why. "The scent of arousal got stronger... And look at this, such a cute little cock you have poking out of your panties." You felt her brush the tip which sent a shiver down your spine, fuck she knew how to tease you. "All hard and leaking, desperate to breed a lucky omega and someone who'd submit to you." Fuck, she was partially right. The reality is you didn't care any more, you wanted her.

She returned to her whisper as you saw her smile creep wider and wider, you'd likely be leaving with her tonight. "But you don't want that, do you? You are much more curious and desperate to feel my cock inside of your pussy, aren't you? You want to know what a real Alpha's cock feels like inside you, don't you Little dove? If you want, I can bitch you and make you mine... You'd never have to worry about anything ever again as I mate you and claim you as my Omega..." You began to consider it... It'd be so nice and easy to just be hers...

You felt her caress your cheek with her thumb. "I could tell from your scent you'd be much better an Omega than an Alpha... No need to work or pay bills, just following the orders YOUR Alpha gives YOU. Would you like that little dove? Do you want to become a breeder for me? Become MY omega?" You whimpered at her and she gave you a chuckle. "I take the scent of arousal and your cute whimper as a yes. Wait for me by the entrance as I take care of some last few things before I take you home."

You reluctantly left her lap before you felt her give you a slap on the ass, causing you to yelp. "Oh my, what an adorable little noise you made, little dove. It might have been a gentle little spank, but I promise you it won't be the last you receive before the night is over. Now get going little dove, I'll be with you soon." You wanted to be obedient for her, you wanted her to bitch you so badly... You perked up when you saw her walking towards you, placing a hand on your back as she led you out. "Come on little dove, lets go home and make your desires a reality."

You were almost certain she could smell your growing arousal as you got closer to her place. Fuck you honestly could barely wait for her to claim you. When you arrived, you watched her open the door and guide you in. "And this is my place, now soon to be OUR place." You looked up at her, hopeful to her words. "I'd never let my sweet little dove live alone. What if an Alpha were to pounce you as you were leaving your apartment? Or decided to break in? Or if you went into heat, I'd doubt you'd get here so easily." She was right about a lot of it, you'd be a lot more vulnerable once you we her omega.

"No... You will be staying here with me. I have so much space here and it gets quite lonely here without a second person to enjoy it all with. Its also not like you'll want to sleep alone after I'm done with you." Fuck, you really needed this woman. "I'm Selene by the way, I might have forgotten to mention it back at the bar Little Dove. Now why don't we get into the bedroom, I'm barely holding myself back from taking you right here and now. I'd much rather be a bit delicate with you at the start though, especially since I don't want to hurt you too much."

When she mentioned the possibility of hurting you, you remembered exactly how bitching worked. She'd be knotting and filling your pussy full of her seed, and biting down into you to mark you as hers. "I can smell your fear little dove, but I promise to be gentle. It might hurt at first since your little pussy normally isn't meant to take an Alpha's cock, let alone mine." She rubbed your back slightly and you began to lean into her hand. "But I promise you'll be able to take it as best I can, I'll help you prepare for it okay?" You gave a slight nod as she took you into the bedroom.

"Let me help you undress little dove." You let her help you take off your dress and leggings, and she couldn't help but salivate at the sight before her. "I love the pink little lace an silk set, and that cute little cock of yours peeking out from the top... But don't worry, soon you can wear sets meant for Omegas. Now, lets remove this last little bit, an Omega is at their prettiest when they're naked after all... Actually, a pretty collar might ad a bit but we'll get you one later."

She gave you a quick peck on the cheek before helping to to remove your lingerie, you swore she had a crazed look in her eyes like she was about ready to pounce. Once you were fully naked, she let her hands wander a bit as she got in close and sniffed you. "You smell so perfect... Now... Lay on your stomach and spread your legs, I'll use some lube to get us started." You did as you were told by first getting on the bed, your raised height would also give her much easier access to your needy hole.

Her touch was cold from the lube and it actually surprised you a bit. "I know its cold, but I really don't want it to hurt more than is necessary." You felt her stop in her tracks as she fell silent for a moment before chuckling. "You're already quite wet here. Maybe your body knows whats about to happens and is adjusting accordingly. You'll be my little omega before the morning it seems." You felt her fingers slowly rub into you and it felt good to finally feel her. You wanted, no, NEEDED more of her. You raised your hips as best you could as you began to grip the sheets tightly, moaning for her, you needed her cock and soon.

"You're such a needy little dove aren't you? You're responding so well and giving me such wonderful reactions and noises. You're making me so fucking aroused my little dove, I can't wait to mate you. Now... I'm going to insert a finger..." You felt her finger enter inside your pussy and you couldn't help but clench around her, everything was massive including her fingers. You bucked your hips into her hand as you felt her curl and move her finger around. You'd probably be cumming just from her hand if given enough time.

"Keep making those wonderful little noises, Little dove. I'll add the second finger in a bit." You felt her against your back as she began kissing along the back of your neck and making you whimper. "You taste so sweet, little dove..." You felt her tongue take a slow and long lick along your neck and face. "I bet you'll taste even sweeter once you're finally my Omega. This slender neck of yours is so delicious, I can't wait to bite into it when I mate you and make you mine."

You felt her slowly slide in the second finger while adding a bit more lube to it. "There we go... Slow and steady my little dove. I'm going to start moving them to help you spread wide open for me, okay?" You gave a quick nod, you needed her to hurry up and mate you. You needed her to make you hers. Then you felt her begin to spread you open with her fingers and you couldn't help but whimper. "Don't worry little dove, you're already so fucking wet. Your body is preparing to be bitched and I find it quite exciting. I wonder when it was you realized you weren't suited to be an alpha, was it when you met me? Did you feel destiny's call as you realized you were meant to be my omega?"

FUCK! She spoke just the right words to make you squirm and want her to bitch you more and more, you whined at her in the hopes that she'd give you what you needed. "Oh don't worry sweet dove, I think you're ready about now. Just let me remove my clothes and I'll be thrusting deep into you in a moment." You felt her leave you, and especially leave you empty as she went to remove her clothes. But it was all worth it to look upon her divine body, perfectly sculpted to make you her omega.

"Like what you see, little dove? Once we're done with tonight, you can see this every day all day. This is the body of the one who will claim you and make you feel pleasures beyond belief. I'm going to mount you now, little dove." You felt her press up against you, and her cock slowly lining up as if ready to enter into you. You couldn't help but push against her as she shoved her fingers into your mouth. "Suck on them my little dove, thats your taste and slick on my fingers. Now... I'm going to FUCK you."

You yelped as she entered you and she began to slowly stroke along your back. "I warned you it would hurt a bit. Just relax yourself, don't tighten up or I can't go deeper." You slowly relaxed into her touch, it was comforting and soothing for you to feel her care. "Good girl" You felt her place a few kisses along your neck which helped you melt into her even more. "Thats my good little dove, relax and enjoy it. I promise you'll be my omega before the sun has risen." You wanted her words to be true, fuck you needed them to be true. You shoved yourself back into her hips, helping to spear your pussy on her cock.

"I never thought my soulmate would be so eager to be bitched by me, but who am I to deny my dove's wish?" Soulmate? Fuck it you didn't care anymore, you'd be her anything as long as you could be HERS. "Fuck you look so beautiful my dove, tongue hanging out, your eyes glazed with pleasure... Your womb waiting for me to fill you full of my children... I hope you're ready little dove, because I'm not stopping."

You began to slowly tighten and clench around her cock, you'd be her omega after tonight and you could feel it. "Bet you can't wait for your first heat, let alone for me to go into rut and just fuck you until you're knocked up. I'll be able to use you to relieve all that frustration that comes with my rut... I can also smell you're becoming my perfect little omega, its seems like you only needed the one session..." You were so close to orgasm and you absolutely needed to cum.

"Fuck... I'm about to..." You felt her shove her knot into you and you let go, cumming on her knot as she filled you with her cum and bit down into you. She claimed you as hers, finally you were hers. Your body began to relax more as you started to go limp. "Hold on now little dove, I got you. You feeling a bit tired?" You could barely give a nod as she leaned back and pulled you with her, holding you close. "Don't worry little dove, you can rest now. Tomorrow morning we have a full day, but for now you can rest." You slowly closed your eyes and drifted off s she rubbed your back. Selene was your alpha and your soulmate now, and you were hers. "Sweet dreams, little dove."

holy crap, uhm just wow great job

[codabound]

Rating Leasebound Characters #1: The Main Cast

Just woke up a few minutes ago, so I decide, I'm gonna talk about the Leasebound characters, my personal opinions on each of them, and give them a rating of some kind. These posts will be broken into seperate postings for each set of characters.

Starting off strong, we have Jaden Anderson. I'd honestly give Jaden a solid 7/10. What really saddens ne about Jaden's character is that she is easily the most interesting and actually developed character in Leasebound when Rusty isn't revolving her character around being visciously brutalized by trans women, yet really nothing has been done with her in the areas that there should be. Jaden has so much about her and her lore that are actually interesting that Rusty has sort of just shoved to the side in favor of portraying her as a victim of violence at the hands of "evil trans women". Her father's death, and the subsequent guilt that follows that motivates her to go to medical school and become a doctor in his memory, only for her to end up dropping out because she couldn't handle what medical school actually entails, as well as her devastating breakup with her first girlfriend Alexis because of Alexis' homophobic mother, her relationship with the people who work at Yonique, especially Violet and Faith, her vaguely present mommy issues due to her mother's unintentional parentification of her at a young age and implied favoritism of Jacob. All of this is good avenues for story-telling, but nothing has been done with any of it. The closest we get is the little behind the scenes segments Rusty occasionally posts. And that really sucks. In conclusion, Jaden would be a much more interesting character if she was being written by somebody else and was in a better comic.

Second on our list, we have Riley Zhou. And I give her a 3/10. Yeaaah, I think its a little obvious from my previous posts that I am not a huge fan of Riley. With my first reason being the obvious, I find her "blossoming romance" with Jaden (if you can even call it that, given this "slow-burn" romance is burning so slowly that I doubt Rusty even lit the candle) kind of off-putting given she has a girlfriend, has actively expressed being attracted to Jaden, and is still subsequently dating her girlfriend who she seems to be losing feelings for. Emotional cheating is not it, people. But as for my other reasons, Riley kind of just gives me nothing. Probably because Rusty also gives her nothing. There's very little that we seem to actually know about Riley, she's overwhelmingly underdeveloped in comparison to Jaden. We very vaguely know that she seemed to have come from some sort of a conservative or religious background, and that because she left her mother doesn't talk to her anymore, but Rusty has never exactly come back to Riley's past like... Ever. And really, other than that, there's really nothing to gleam about Riley that actually makes her interesting. She's just really boring.

Third on my list is Blaire Hopburn, and if you've been on my page for longer than 4 seconds, I think you already know what I'm gonna say. 10/10. I absolutely adore Blaire as a character. "Oh, but her strawmannish activities and her targeting people with her pushy gendie beliefs" doooon't caaaareee. It's still hard to believe that this is the character that we're actively meant to be rooting against, with some of Rusty's fanbase treating her like she's the Shou Tucker of the comic, when she's literally such a sweetheart. She's a supportive girlfriend, she's accepting of other people, she's implied to be kind of protective, and she's drop-dead gorgeous. It's like Rusty realized that she didn't actually write anything about Blaire that would warrant Riley to want to leave her, so she just last minute threw in "gendie supporter" and hoped that would be enough. Spoiler alert, it wasn't. Love Blaire, she's my lifeline.

And last but not least for the main cast, is Muddles the cat. 10/10. She's a cat. She's done nothing wrong. She's just kitty.

That's it for the main cast, but I'll be back later with the rest of the characters.

[sloshed-cinema]

The Piano (1993)

The gothic romance, it would appear, has an uncanny valley. Shipped off by her family from rainy Scotland to muddy and rainy New Zealand, Ada McGrath is forced into the arms of her arranged husband Alisdair Stewart. Finding herself in a strange land with her young daughter Flora, Ada is forced to deal with harsh terrain and unfamiliar people, all while needing to communicate through either her daughter’s fiery translation of her sign language, written notes, or rigid and firm body language. She cannot speak, expressing herself instead through her piano playing, and she is stuck between two men. Alisdair is controlling and distant, and local handyman George Baines is coarse and blunt. Both men desire her, and she wants none of them. In its unfolding, The Piano manages to fall directly into the gulf between romance which is transgressive and charged, and that which is intended to be such but just comes across as creepy. Alisdair expects that his chosen spouse perform her duties because that’s her role and generally skulks around; not much needs to be said of him for that part. He is the patriarch incarnate. But George, in his game of exchanging sexual favors for the 88 keys of the piano that he’s holding hostage in a bid to garner her favor, is no better. The relationship blossoming between them seems to be prodded along because the film desires it to go in a direction rather than it happening in an organic sense, coercive that it is. That’s not to say it’s not without wit: writer-director Jane Campion finds indulgence within this, having George finger a hole in Ada’s stocking in an obvious innuendo, and later matching the handyman going down on the landowner’s wife to said landowner peeping in while having his hand eaten out by the family dog. Cue the train entering the tunnel. But the relationship between George and Ada isn’t love borne out of shared suffering, it’s some variation on Stockholm Syndrome. Ada’s position is unenviable, and the film leans into that, but it’s hard to buy that in the grander scheme of things. It just comes off as another case when I have to walk away scratching my head and wondering why movies seem to find these dynamics so sexually interesting. This has all of the trappings of a Wuthering Heights type situation but in its execution cannot balance transgression with coercion.

But perhaps this viewing was colored by my aversion to films that feel the need to hammer in the messaging or symbolism of their narrative. This is more Nathaniel Hawthorne than Haruki Murakami. Early on, we establish that the piano is Ada’s voice in the world. Indeed, her playing is anachronistic in its lyricism and fluidity, commingling freely with composer Michael Nyman’s lyrical and flowing score. People notice and comment on this. But needing to draw attention to something which is already clear is the least of the worries of the film. Throughout, conscious parallels are drawn in the most achingly obvious manner: the church pageant features a pantomime of the Bluebeard tale, a jealous man beheading his wives with an axe. Cue Alisdair with an axe. Ada removes a key from her precious piano, intended as a gift and love-affirmation to George, but it is intercepted by the vengeful Alisdair. By chopping off Ada’s index finger, he deprives her of her pre-stated voice. All of this would be fine, but for the fact that a play within a film literally tells you an idea you’re supposed to pay attention to, and the finger-severing is commented on obliquely when a Māori worker notes that the separated key no longer has a voice. All of this would be poetic but for how sweatily intentional is the presentation of it all. When the parallels are clear by implication, it starts to feel insulting when they get pointed to time and again by characters within the film. To that end, the conclusion of the film feels a little mixed: Ada finds a new life with George, and yet comments on her soul through her piano still binding her to its watery grave. Well, which is it gonna be, Jane? Just drown your character and put this to its watery grave, as you said you wanted to do so later.

The handling of the Māori was… not great. They’re present within the world of the film, as would make sense for the time period of the story. But at no point does the film look their way and think about the effects of colonialism inflicted on these people. Instead, they are largely presented as simpletons who cannot understand theatre effects but are useful when it comes to rowing canoes or carrying cargo.

All said, the ratio of loss from piano keys to human fingers isn’t exactly equivalent. SUCK IT, METAPHOR!!!

THE RULES

SIP

Someone uses a synonym for 'silent'.

Ada starts to play piano.

Close-up of piano hammers.

BIG DRINK

Flora tells a lie.

A number of keys is named in the piano ownership bargain.

Obscene amounts of mud.