#this is sort of random but it's been billowing in my head for a while so. here you go 😂

[happyk44]

Having written yet another Percicobeth drabble (or ficlet? Probably? Like the difference is in word count, right? And I'm idk how long that one was but feels long-ish), I'm thinking about comments I've gotten (and ignored) on my other Percicobeth stuff, people complaining that Nico is gay so he can't be in a relationship with Annabeth and ofc my first instinct is to go "I was here long before Nico was gay, and shipped this ship, I'm not gonna abandon it just because the owner of the boats made up something new. I've been in this boat for over a decade. You think I give a shit if the owner suddenly says my boat isn't made for the deep waters I've been taking her into this whole time?"

And that of course is totally valid. I don't think people need to give up ships or headcanons or whatever else they've had for a long time just because something changed or became official in canon. But I also don't think it matters what people ship, irrespective of canon anyway. Like, yeah, in the heydays of fandom, shipping canon gay characters with female characters was really frowned upon because there were so little canon gay characters, it was annoying to see them scrubbed out for a m/f ship, but it's not really like that anymore. But also, tbh, as annoying as it was, I never really gave too much of a shit because fandom is fandom. People like what they like. And most of the time they retconned them to be bi, not straight so who gives a shit 🤷‍♂️ just block that person if you want and move along

But that also reminds me that I did get a comment complaining that by making Nico "bi", other people will feel like it's okay to make him straight, which a) that's not how that works and b) I'm not making him bisexual, I'm saying Annabeth is his exception.

In all my years of being in the PJO fandom, the only two girls I've ever shipped Nico with was Thalia (whooo, go early days PJO!) and Annabeth. And Thalia/Nico was never a big ship to me tbh. I think I may have actively shipped it for like a few months, and even then I didn't really seek it out. If I did read it, it was usually because they were a secondary relationship in a fic with a really fascinating plot. Like the only two fics I can remember reading with them as a pairing was a time travel kidfic, and this fic where the gods faded due to lack of belief so the kids had to take their spot as gods. And both fics had an ensemble cast and a plot I wish I remembered more.

So basically - it's really just Annabeth.

And truly and honestly, and this is just for me, I don't care how you guys approach it, but I never write Percicobeth with intention of Nico being bisexual. Even in the way back, when canon gay Nico was just a dream, I always just saw Percicobeth as "Nico is really gay, but Annabeth is hot so it doesn't matter for her". And I think a lot of people saw the ship that way too.

And for all that people talk about sexuality being fluid, it's really baffling to me that some people can't wrap their minds around a fictional relationship where a gay male character hooks up with a girl he really likes, but otherwise isn't attracted to other girls.

It happens in couples where a person transitions but their partner stays with them because they love them too much. Would they look at that gender on other people with the same vibrant romantic/sexual attraction? No. But on their partner it looks good, and that's all that matters. And all the jokes about gay men kissing twinks that turn out to be lesbians thinking they were kissing another lesbian.

Also I swear when I was, like, thirteen or so, people used to use the label homoflexible/heteroflexible, which basically meant "I'm gay/straight, but if you're hot enough, I might be interested". I wonder what happened to it 🤔 but yeah, anyway - sexuality is fluid, people kiss and date and fuck who they want, and sometimes who they want is not always what their label says, and it's really up to them if they want to change it.

So in summation. Yeah, I know Nico is gay. But I've shipped Percicobeth for over a decade, and I'm gonna keep shipping it because it makes me happy. And when I write the ship, Nico is still gay, but either Annabeth is hot enough that he doesn't care, or they end up having a really deep connection and friendship outside of their relationship to Percy, that they end up hooking up anyway.

Also sometimes I write Percicobeth as "she fucks Percy and he fucks Percy, but they don't fuck each other, they just scheme together different ways to fuck with Percy", because sometimes that's what polyamory is! Sometimes it's "I'm dating X, and X is dating me and Y, but I'm just good friends with Y, and Y is just good friends with me" and that's okay too. It doesn't always have to be everyone is in love and dating each other.

The world contains multitudes.

And at the end of the day, I write what I want.

[paradlselost]

CRIMSON.

JOHN SEED X FEMALE DEPUTY

Sort of a dump, I was really debating on just publishing this as a WIP but I was halfway through the smut and decided to just finish it. Not my best, but I tried to go for a more canon accurate John, which means he’s a major freak in this sorry :/

I mentioned it in the fic but didn’t go too deep, I kinda love toying with the idea of a more selfish deputy - humanizing them. If I were to ever write a longer fic with more of an oc-ized version of the deputy would anyone read? Let me know.

I probably won’t post about John Seed or FC5 for a little while after this. I have ideas for a Black Noir (my bbg) fic and then a Father Paul Hill one from Midnight Mass cause I love religious trauma as y’all can tell. I do also like indoctrinated!deputy so maybe maybe eventually I write about that.

2.7k words

content warnings: mentions of cutting into flesh. smut — dubcon, choking, blood play (John being a freak sorry), dryhumping, oral (m receiving), fingering, debauchery in a house of God.

She should’ve known from the start, when the crackle of her radio sounded, interjecting her music with his voice; that this request was nothing but trouble. But rage had blinded her, wrath seeped into every pore in her body, selfishness.

It was never the Deputy’s plan to become the symbol for the resistance, even after the blades of the helicopter stopped, and smoke and fire billowed out from the engine. Even after Dutch saved her and enlisted her help, and despite the stories from countless other resistance members, she only really had one prerogative; save her friends. 

Hudson, Pratt, Whitehorse. Trapped in the claws of the cult, it was her duty to get them back, and despite the help she had been giving to the resistance, those were the only three people she cared about.

He knew this, stalking her like a cat preparing to pounce, he watched every facet of her life from the moment she ventured into Holland Valley that he could. A selfish little thing, ripe for his obsession.

John Seed was a proud man, bold and brave as he had so eloquently begged Jacob to put in his song. His pedestal as a Herald inflated his ego, the knowledge that without him Eden’s Gate wouldn’t have prospered nearly as much fueled his narcissism, which is why he surrounded himself with only the peggies who would do anything for him.

He isn’t sure whether new members are supposed to pledge their lives to him and the cult, but it sounds so sweet when the floor pools with the blood of their atonement and he coaxes those little words from his new followers' lips. His tongue is coated in silver, he loves this new power, and she threatens to take that from him.

He knew she wouldn’t be as proactive if he crooned to her that he had a resistance member or two, and she would swing in guns blazing if he claimed to have Hudson right beside him. So, instead he played on her curiosity, that little nudge in the back of her mind that forced her to seek him out whenever he called. Like a moth to a flame.

“Fuck you, Seed!” Voice so filled with venom it might’ve burned a hole in the floor, he tilted his head at her profanity, a sadistic grin playing on his face.

Hope County was filled with little white churches, chapels with steeples that attempted to reach to the heavens above. She assumed they were much more lively before, now most were barren except on Sundays, when the peggies who could not fit onto Joseph’s compound would listen to him under random roofs of God.

This. He chose to be under the white ceiling specifically, to call her into the thing she had been fighting against. To hear her screams echo against the chipped painting that decorated the walls, for her blood to be stained on the old wooden floorboards.

Curiosity killed the cat. She was stupid enough to venture into his trap, falling to the ground when hit hard enough over the head, and now she was stupid enough to attempt to fight off the peggies that held either arm.

“Such profanity. You’re in a house of God, Deputy, mind your tongue.” He scolded her as if she was a misbehaving child, as if everything she had ever done could be chalked up to that. A spoiled rotten brat.

His fingers danced over the tools he had brought with him, his trusty tattoo gun being at the top, but an assortment of knives he also deemed fit for this occasion. Oh, the blood she would spill for him, he became giddy at the thought.

“Get off of me-! Woah woah woah- hey stop!” Yelping, she still attempted to fight off the peggies that held her arms, she shied away when he advanced toward her, tattoo gun in his hands. He had tried this before, she knew what he was doing.

“No one here to help you now, Wrath. Don’t try and fight, your atonement will hurt much less if you cooperate.” He was too calm for this situation, a practiced art he had been through hundreds of times. It was a skill, making people spill their most intimate secrets, a skill he had perfected.

The Deputy was a fighter, through and through, though John could understand Jacobs words. She was weak without her companions, without pastor Jerome stealing her from her atonement, or Nick Rye strafing his armed convoy, she was nothing now - and it was almost endearing to him.

With her hands bound, she resorted to spitting that same venom that she held in her words, marking his perfect face with her saliva. He grimaced, wiping it off his cheek before it trailed down to his beard, pretty blue eyes flashing with that same bloodlust that dictated his every waking moment.

It was shocking to even the peggies that held her when he grabbed her by her throat, pinning her to the ground and straddling her hips. His hands shook with anger - the same wrath that he deemed consumed her now making an appearance in himself. Two sides of the same coin, two heads of a snake.

Her head ached now, body feeling as though it was echoing. A second blow to the back of her head that surely would’ve knocked her out if the pain of his tattoo gun wasn’t keeping her grounded. She didn’t know how fast he had ripped her shirt, or how long it would take for him to carve her skin, but she was reduced to pained whines and pleas for him to stop.

And he relished in the noises she made. The blood that covered his hands and trickled down her chest wasn’t an unusual sight for the herald - but her being the one under him made it all the more exciting. His Deputy, his wrath, his perfect rival. The peggies that stood above him now didn’t matter, and what are they to him anyways? Expendable followers he could use, the Deputy was everything.

“Yes yes, c’mon, keep pleading…” How could he help it? Her eyes half lidded as she looked up at him, hands no longer bound by the peggies now loosely grabbing the wrist that held the tattoo gun in an attempt to stop him. She looked so pathetic under him, so why shouldn’t he grind himself against her when his pants were so uncomfortably tight?

Her words didn’t quite reach his ears, not as he waved his followers out - who hurriedly scrambled in embarrassment. The old church was silent, save for her soft sobs and his intense breathing. His hand still placed over her neck made her choke on her words, which only fueled his desire. He could crush her windpipe, her life rested in his hands, and maybe he would’ve if the nagging reminder that she was the only way he was getting into New Eden wasn’t playing in the back of his head.

His ticket, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun with her.

He removed his hand from her neck as he finished carving into her pretty skin. WRATH, her own personal scarlet letters. He hummed, looking down at her with lustful eyes, fluttering between hers and the blood that pooled on her chest and trickled down her body to the wooden floor below.

She hated the feeling that bubbled in her chest as the pain subsided, now only a dull ache danced with the look he gave her, how he rubbed the tent made in his pants against her. No doubt, a mark had been left on her neck - his handprint, a reminder. The world felt silent at this moment, when she should've pushed him off.

Selfishness. Prioritizing that small ache he gave her over what she should be doing. Finding anything to act as a weapon against him.

But she didn’t, not as his head lowered and she was greeted with his perfectly slicked back hair, shaking hands reaching to play with a strand. A soft grumble came from his throat, tongue lapping at the blood that trickled down the valley of her chest, tasting what he had drawn out of her.

“What are you doing-?” Her voice was soft, he barely heard it over the ringing in his ears. Too long had he been subjected to resorting to his hand when he thought about her, or messing up his silk pillowcases with his pretty ropes when she teased him over the radio. He had her under him, he wasn’t going to let her go now.

“Shh.” His voice was more scolding then he meant it to be, his tongue traveling from the blood he lapped at down to her budding nipple. He wasn’t gentle, and why should he be? After everything she had messed up for him, he felt it justified to bite down on her pretty flesh, pulling at the bud as much as he wanted.

He relished in the pretty, pained moans that fell from her lips, how her back arched into it. Two sides of the same coin, both reveling in whatever pain was brought to them.

The Deputy’s head tilted back, allowing him a chance to latch onto her neck as a vampire would, smearing the blood on his lips all over her pretty skin. He bit, marking her with his teeth over the forming bruises from his handprint. His hands, decorated in the crimson from his hold on the tattoo gun traveled down her body, painting her in her own red.

He slipped his hand below the rough fabric of her jeans, being met with a contrast, soft and delicate and slightly damp. A soft grumble left his lips at the feeling; which were still pressed against her pretty neck. He felt the way her breath hitched as he ran digits over her most delicate areas. Being so close to her neck, he felt how her muscles tightened and how her breath hitched in her throat.

Lifting her hips to meet his tattooed fingers, a small admission of need. She bit her bottom lip to suppress the noises that tempted to fall from her lips - not wanting to give him the satisfaction. They were still enemies, still rivals, at least to her. 

John on the other hand seemed to be on cloud nine, relishing in how she moved against his hand, grinding herself through the fabric of her underwear. He bit down once more, slipping her out of her jeans and grabbing her hips, sitting up and pressing his pelvis against hers.

“John- John cmon…” Head thrown back, panting as she grabbed at the blue silk of his top. He tilted his head down at her, a sadistic smirk playing on his features.

He always took what he wanted, no matter who it was, and the Deputy was no exception to this. To him, it was God's Grace that placed them both here, that gave him the opportunity to rut his hips against hers.

The bulge in his covered jeans met her underwear, fucking himself against her covered cunt. He leaned down overtop of her, panting against her ear. Hot breath on her neck, the sounds of his soft moans mixing with his heavy breaths, and of course his restricted cock grazing just over her clit every couple of thrusts, it was enough to make any girl's eyes roll back.

He stopped, only for a moment, but long enough for her to let out a needy whine, lifting her head to see what he was doing. Tattooed fingers worked the EG belt off, letting his pants pool at his ankles. He wasted no time once they were off, underwear meeting underwear as the outline of his dick was much more pronounced.

“Fuck fuck, put your head back. Fucking-… good girl.” He groaned out, one hand leaving her hips and grabbing at her pretty hair, pulling her head back against the cold wooden floor of the church. She ached, head pounding and echoing from the injuries earlier - but the feeling of him fucking himself against her needy cunt kept her grounded.

In this moment, she needed him, needed this feeling to not pass out.

He tilted his own head back, sweat casting a slick sheen over his skin. A hand dipped against the drying blood on her chest, gathering what he could over his fingertips before bringing them to his lips, sucking on the bloodied digits. He groaned around his fingers, muffling the moans that threatened to fall.

The head of his cock strained against the blue fabric of his boxers, hips thrusting sloppily against her as his hand tightened on her hips, leaving pretty marks in his wake. One thrust, another thrust, and finally another before white pooled at the head, spurting out of the tiny holes in his underwear.

Panting, he finally moved his fingers out of his mouth, cleaned off the blood and tilted his head down at her almost mockingly; he got to finish, the cum that leaked from his underwear dripping down onto hers, and she didn’t get to. He relished in that, that power he had over her.

“H-hey! Not fair!”

“Oh, Deputy. Come here, maybe I’ll let you get off.”

He grinned as he stood up, fixing himself before moving back onto one of the pews, watching her scramble over to him. He had her eating out of the palm of his hand as she kneeled in front of him. Her head pounded harder, eyes a little woozy.

“Poor baby, rest your head, sweetheart.” He teased, a sadistic grin on his face as she nodded and rested against his thigh, looking up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He couldn’t help himself, not if she looked so pretty right there in his grasp. 

He tangled his fingers in her hair, watching her confused expression as he moved the blue fabric off of his legs, dick springing up as it was freed from the confinement of his underwear. Guiding her head over it, watching her part her pretty lips to suck on his leaking tip.

Milking his cock, swallowing the spurts of salty seed that spilled onto her tongue. She drained him for all he’s worth, looking up at him as he ran his fingers through her hair. He was soft and gentle in this moment, noises falling from his lips that told her how good she was doing. She shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be sucking off John Seed of all people.

He grinned as he watched her, once he was satisfied with the way she suckled on him, he grabbed her chin and pulled her off of him. Guiding her up to her feet, he let her loom over him. She wasn’t intimidating like this, he didn’t know if it was because he had just fucked her over their clothes or because she was relying on him for an orgasm, but she seemed almost adorable.

His lips found her neck once more as she leaned against him, nuzzling her head into his shoulder. He forced her to stand, to spread her legs to allow his fingers to feel the now wet fabric of her panties. He hummed in satisfaction, moving them aside and tracing a finger over her slick folds.

A soft gasp left her lips, grabbing onto his shoulder and attempting to move back to look him in the eye. He grumbled, forcing her in that same position as he bit down on her neck, pushing a finger inside of her at the same time. He loved the moans that fell from her lips as he pumped a digit deeper inside of her.

Another finger stretched her out, deep enough to hit those nerves that made her legs tremble. She whined, shaking against him and propping herself up as he continued to pump in and out of her. He pulled away from her neck for only a moment, watching the way she buried her face against him and laughing softly.

He added one more finger before her legs fully began to tremble, grabbing onto his shoulder. Pumping more, fully reaching those nerves, which caused her to spasm around him, her orgasm flooding around his fingers. She rocked against him once or twice, chasing her high.

“Look at you, Deputy, needing me. Did I make you feel good? Use your words.”

[marivoid]

Entry 27

Day 204

Guess who was heading NORTH instead of SOUTH. How could one mess up this bad? Well, apparently the sun's direction has flipped! It rises in the west, and sets in the east! The earth has done a full turnaround on how it works! That asteroid really screwed us over.

Although I only learned that fact with the help of a man named Keralis. I just happened to see the smoke billowing out through a forest of Evergreens (Still shocked that those trees are even alive) and followed it to a rather lovely wooden cabin.

I would love to say I turned tail right there and left while I still could! (-Random buildings with smoke means people and I would rather not want to find out if they are deadly-) But my plans were foiled when my foot got caught in a snare trap and left me dangling like a pinta!

And just to make matters worse, guess who happened to walk out at that time!

(Spoilers, the owner of the cabin!)

"Are you alright? No broken bones?"

"A slight head rush! But nothing too awful!"

Now, one may think the most sensible way to untie somebody hanging upside down is to undo the rope around their ankle and lower them down. That would be a perfectly sane, reasonable option.

Not taking an axe and slashing just a few centimeters above your foot and sending you falling head first into the ground.

(My neck still hurts as of writing this.)

"You really need to watch out for those traps! Scavengers and bandits love to use those sorts of things to rob people blind!" The best way to describe his voice was Swedish. (I think. I've only ever heard Swedish accents in old TV shows in the G.U.I.D.Es)

"I'll definitely try harder in the future?"

After I had managed to collect myself from that little mishap, the man explained to me what he was doing out there. Apparently Keralis had been living in the woods for a few years now and had rigged it full of traps in case any wanderers (like me) or Stranglers got a bit too close to home.

He seems like a nice enough man. Brought me inside, got me a couple glasses of water and was overall very hospitable. Asked a few questions about where I was going and... Well.

"I'm trying to find the Demon and Heavy-Body Builder. I should get there tomorrow but I haven't really seen... Anything, really."

Keralis had fallen silent at the mention of the names. However... Back then he just sounded like he was holding in his laughter the more I think about it. "And are you sure you're going the right way?"

"Yes? The sun rises in the east, sets in the west. Work off of that and you're fine."

"Switch those two around."

"... What do you mean, switch those two around?"

And thus began a minute of the loudest, heartiest belly laughter I've ever heard. This poor man may have died from his laughter if he had not collected himself!

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry! But goodness-" A wheeze and another laugh. "-I haven't met anyone who didn't know that! Of course you haven't found them, you're going the wrong way! Come, come, I'll show you something that should help!"

Keralis showed me a room that would have been any mapmaker's dream come true. There were so many maps pinned up on the walls, feather quills laying about on a cluttered desk, and a huge window that just made the room feel SAFE.

I hadn't realized I had been staring at everything for so long when he set a compass in my hand. "This, my dear friend, will get you where you need to go." He had said with a twinkle in his eyes. (His HUGE eyes, mind you.)

"I... Are you sure? These things seem hard to find."

"Oh nonsense! Nonsense! I can make another one if I really need it. But you, mister, are running around like a dog trying to catch its own tail! In circles!" His hand had fallen on my shoulder at that point and something about it... Just seemed off. His hand was unnaturally firm and felt colder than a normal hand? "Where you need to go is Comparator City! I have a map just for it as well- I know a few people there myself!"

The man kept rambling about something (I can't tell you what) because I had seen something off with his neck. Why was it darker on one side than the other? And what was up with those lines? They looked so much like...

"Sweet face? You are staring!"

"I-I'm sorry, who?" That shocked the ever loving stars out of me. Even now, I have never met anyone who calls a stranger 'Sweet Face.'

"You silly! Sweet Face! Since I still don't know your name after all!" He dropped a rather heavy roll into my arms while I was still in my state of shock. "Those are for you! One map straight to Comparator City, and a few slips of blank paper to make your own maps." Before I could even thank him for his kindness, Keralis was pushing me out of the room. "I have a spare room you can stay in for the night. It's the least I can do for you getting strung up like that! There is also a river nearby, if you need to take a plunge. I've already tested, no flesh eating bacteria in it! Just... Don't drink the water. To be safe."

And... That leads us to now. Me writing in this journal after being able to actually soak in water for once (No more ten minute rushes) and a soft bed for the night. It's really nice here. But unfortunately I can't stay. I need to find The Doctor. And now...

Now I'm just one step closer to finding him.

-MLW

-G.U.I.D.E 67

[2af-afterdark]

Gosh I keep messing up the request let me start over

356”come sit in my face ,let me show you how much I missed you” for Beelzebub from WHB

Sorry for messing ,this is my first request and I’m new to tumblr

You did well, Nonie. Everyone starts somewhere and you tried. Heck! Your first ask was already decent. But I applaud your efforts 👏 Also, I did see the other ask where you requested M4F, so I assume you meant F!MC? Please keep in mind that the game is still not out, so when you ask for this you are asking for a bunch of random headcanons sort of put together in a way.

Content: F!MC x Beelzebub (whb), cigar smoking, oral sex (female receiving)

The air is shockingly cold in Avisos, where freezing rain, hail, and snow dyed black by all the gun powder in the air is constantly falling. Even though Beelzebub doesn't go back to his kingdom anymore, it's clear that he still carries the mark of it with him as he wears his usual thin outfit in the chilly air of Niflheim. He looks at ease as he sits with a fat cigar held decadently between his teeth and not a care in the world other than to savor its taste and enjoy the slow, calm pace of the land of sloth.

It's not unheard of for them to run into each other, especially given Beelzebub's penchant for traveling the entirety of hell in a single day, everyday, but it is rare that he waits for her so calmly. It's as if he'd been expecting her, despite the fact that they weren't planning to meet today.

The way his green eyes locked on her with a sultry glance accused her of being late. His eyes continued to stay transfixed on her as he tilted his head to motion them closer, took one long drag on his cigar as she stepped forward, and blew out a billowing plume of sweet and musky smoke in her face as she finally drew near.

Her expression soured as he laughed.

He gave a cat-like grin and shrugged, opening his arms to invite her even closer still.

As if by habit, she fell into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his sides. She buried her face into the crux of his neck and simply inhaled all the scents clinging to him from all over hell.

"Did you miss me?"

The only answer she gave was a small grumble against his neck.

He wrapped one arm around her waist while his other hand continued to hold onto his cigar.

"I missed you," Beelzebub said in a voice clearly dripping with double meaning as the bulge in his pants pressed between her legs. "Wanna see how much?"

She wanted to call him a pervert, but the deep melodic lilt of his voice left her speechless in voice and weak in the knees.

"Abaddon has the best rooms."

They weren't near Abaddon, but she knew that meant nothing to him. He knew every shortcut in hell, even the ones that didn't exist and he would make use of them if he really wanted to bring her to bed. And he could make use of those nonexistent shortcuts without her even noticing. As long as it didn't make sense, he could do anything he pleased.

That's why she didn't react as he motioned her face away from the junction of his neck and began to kiss the sides of her face. It's why she didn't say anything as the frigid air around them turned into sweltering heat. The natural cool darkness of Niflheim transformed into manufactured lights and unnatural colors from lamps bolted into the walls. She could feel the seat underneath them give way as they sunk slightly into the soft mattress that appeared below.

"You smell amazing," he purred as he cupped his hands underneath her ass, slipping his fingers under her skirt and into her panties, and inhaled her natural scent as deeply as he could. "This is the best place to catch up."

Her expression was still doubtful toward him, especially given his lackadaisical attitude.

"I really did miss you. Don't you believe me?" He fell back against the soft bedsheets and raised his fingers in a 'V' shape against his lips, licking between them in an obvious lewd gesture. "Come sit on my face and I'll prove it to you."

He really was a pervert, but she already knew when she saw him what he'd ask of her and she went with him anyway.

His hands pushed against her ass, guiding her further up his body than where she currently sat. She went along with his guidance, crawling over him until she was sitting directly over his face.

She reached between her legs, grabbing the fabric of her underwear and pulling it to the side so he could see her pussy already getting wet for him.

He licked his lips as he stared up at her glistening folds.

"C'mon. Waving a treat in front of a starving dog is abu-"

She lowered her hips against his mouth, cutting off his words as she ground her pussy against his wagging tongue. She rested her full weight on top of him, silently telling him to prove everything he'd said.

Maybe after he made her cum on his tongue, he would be able to tell that she had missed him too.

[robynmizore]

Redemption Chapter Four

A Little Salt and Budding Trust/The World of Binding

Evening fell, and still caught up in her war planning, Robyn realized she had once again missed dinner. 

That’s strange.. and I don’t even feel hungry either..

The random thought from earlier flitted through her mind. 

I need miso soup..

While she couldn’t recall any specific memories of her past life, she somehow knew that style of food was common in her world. It was strange not remembering who she was or her life before this, yet she knew about her world’s food and music like the back of her hand. And no one would be in the mess hall. She could relax a bit. 

Throwing up her hood to conceal her face, Robyn strolled down the halls, her cloak billowing out behind her. She paused briefly to glance at Takumi’s door, which was firmly closed.

I wonder if he’s still awake.. I don’t want to bother him..

Turning away, she headed towards the staircase. 

“Why did I have to lose track of time..” Takumi muttered under his breath. 

The sun was now just a faint sliver in the sky as he marched through the archery field, his Fujin Yumi slung over his back. He knew the Summoner had said he was the best archer in the army, but he still felt out of sorts if he didn’t practice every day. So even when the other heroes had turned in for the night, still the Hoshidan prince remained, firing arrow after arrow at the targets. The hallways were dimly lit by the candles as Takumi stepped into the hallway, stifling a groan. 

I guess I missed dinner.. he thought ruefully, noting the silence. I’ll have to settle for some rice balls I guess.

He wasn’t the best cook, but those were easy enough to make. He just wished he had something more substantial, but most of the kitchen ingredients were foreign. A warm, familiar scent stopped him in his tracks as he neared the mess hall. 

Is that.. miso soup?

It was a common Hoshidan dish that happened to be his favorite, and a frown crept upon his features. As far as he knew, no one from Hoshido had been summoned there, otherwise he’d have recognized them. Curious, he made his way into the kitchen to see a familiar black cloak, humming softly to herself as she hovered over a simmering pot. 

“..Robyn?” he called softly, as if not to scare her as he leaned against the wall. 

She jumped a little and turned, relaxing when she noticed him. 

“Ah.. Takumi! You startled me..”

”Sorry..” he mumbled, averting his eyes. There was a brief, awkward silence, and the prince found he couldn’t resist blurting out. “I didn’t know you were familiar with Hoshidan food.”

”Hoshidan food?”

The Summoner titled her head for a moment before she glanced back at the pot and her tone suddenly brightened, catching him off guard. 

“Wait.. you make miso soup in Hoshido too? No one here seems to have heard of it. In fact, Ricken said it sounded weird.”

”Really?” 

Takumi found himself relaxing as the words flowed easily from his lips. He loved talking about his country and knowing he and the Summoner had something in common piqued his interest. Was her world just like his?

”It’s a common food where I’m from. My favorite actually. My siblings and I would have it in the morning with rice and fish. Sometimes daikon too. Or omelette.”

”I see.” 

Was that a smile on the Summoner’s lips as she turned back to the stove. 

“Were you coming here to make some?”

”Ah.. no.”

A faint flush of embarrassment crept up the prince’s neck and into his cheeks. 

“I couldn’t find any of the ingredients here. Everything here is just.. different. I’m surprised they even have seaweed here for making rice balls.”

”Ah.. you’re making rice balls?”

”Y-yeah.”

Why does she sound so excited..?

”..Mind making me some too? I’ll make you some miso soup.”

”R-really?”

Another rush of embarrassment engulfed him at the childish note of excitement in his voice, and he quickly regained his composure.

”Um.. sure. I can do that.” he said, and a faint smile made its way to his lips. 

Robyn smiled to herself as she threw more ingredients into the pot. Takumi seemed so standoffish at first, but now? She snuck a glance at the Hoshidan. His shoulders were relaxed, his reddish hazel eyes calm as he prepped the rice. His silver hair swayed gently as he worked. He looked so.. gentle.

Is this what he’s like under the tough front he puts up?

Despite his strength, he always acted as if he had something to prove. But why? Was he truly blind to his own talents? He stole a glance at her, and Robyn froze as she realized she was caught staring. 

“Um.. is something wrong?”

”No.. I was just thinking..”

She turned back to the pot, giving it a stir. Gathering her courage, she looked up to meet his eyes. 

“..Tell me about Hoshido?”

He was quiet for a moment, a hand suspended over the steaming rice as it cooked, and she wondered if the question had been insensitive after all, and a soft sigh escaped his lips and a distant, almost dreamy look crept into his eyes. The rice simmered gently as he began to tell her about his homeland. Of the castle where he lived with his older brother King Ryoma, and his sisters Hinoka and Sakura. 

“My birth mother died when I was young, so I don’t really remember Ikona.” Takumi explained as he started to mold the rice into triangular shapes. 

Robyn found herself joining him, and a small smile graced his lips briefly as he went on. 

“My father, Sumeragi later married Mikoto. While she wasn’t related to us by blood she.. she was a good mother to us.”

”Was..?” Robyn’s voice crackled, picking up on the tremor in his voice. 

Takumi nodded slowly, his downcast face hiding his eyes under the shadow of his silver bangs, and his lips quivered slightly as he murmured 

“One of my long lost siblings, Corrin, was kidnapped at a young age by this enemy kingdom called Nohr. Mother was devastated, and even though years passed, she still held hope. One day we were able to take them back, and Mother called everyone to the town square to make the announcement. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. My siblings were sharing spiced potatoes and rice dumplings. Corrin was standing next to Mother. The sword they brought with them started glowing like crazy before it flew into the hands of this hooded cloaked figure. They.. stabbed the sword into the ground, causing a huge explosion, killing many of the town’s people in an instant. Some of the explosion flew towards Corrin.. then..”

Robyn covered her mouth in horror, the massacre bringing back some memories of her own that she tried so desperately to hide in the deepest corner of her mind. Takumi took a moment to collect himself, drawing in a shuddering breath as he braced himself for the next part of the story. 

“I.. I saw Mikoto throwing herself in front of Corrin. It.. it all happened so fast. I couldn’t stop it. She.. she died within seconds. I can still hear Sakura’s scream so clearly…”

Takumi shut his eyes tightly, as if trying to block out memories, and before Robyn could even think about what she was doing, her arms encircled around the prince, pulling him into a tight embrace. She heard Takumi gasp softly and tense up, but he made no move to push her away as she pressed her face into his shoulder, tears streaming down her face. 

“I-I’m sorry..” she whispered. “I know what it’s like to lose someone close to me too. It hurts.. It still does.”

”So that’s why..”

The realization in his voice stopped her tears in their tracks as she let him go and swiped the tears off her cheeks. 

“What do you mean..?”

”N-nothing!”

Robyn titled her head in confusion as the prince turned and finished forming the rest of the rice balls. 

“Do.. do you ever have nightmares?” he asked abruptly.  

She nodded, but didn’t elaborate. She wasn’t ready to delve into her past yet. 

“I have nightmares like you wouldn’t believe..” he murmured. “I wish I knew how to make them go away.”

”Mine too..” Robyn agreed quietly, when a sudden thought occurred to her. “Is.. there anything I can do to help? Maybe I can make you soup or-“

”..Will you sing?”

The words stopped her in her tracks, and she looked up to see Takumi gazing at her, his eyes burning with intensity. 

“Will you sing?”

The words impulsively left the prince’s lips before he had a moment to think, but unlike the other times when he blurted the first thought that came to mind, he didn’t immediately want to snatch it back. Instead, he gazed at her intently, taking in her frozen figure as he desperately wished to see her face so he could know what she was thinking. Finally, she gave him the tiniest of nods. 

“O..okay..”

Takumi turned back to the rice balls he was setting up, a faint smile on his face as they exited the kitchen and settled alone at one of the tables. 

“Thank you..” he mumbled and she nodded again. 

They ate in silence, and Takumi felt oddly relaxed as he breathed in the familiar scent of the soup. It reminded him of home, but didn’t make his chest ache, but instead filled him with thoughts of his siblings and Mother. He glanced over at the Summoner. It was hard to tell what she was thinking, but the relaxed slope of her shoulders indicated he was unbothered by his company. 

“..Do you like Shogi?” he asked suddenly. 

She nodded, finishing the last rice ball. 

“The strategy board game, right? I got a board in one of the villages, Ricken and I have played it a handful of times, but he isn’t very good at it. I wouldn’t mind more of a challenge.”

Rising to her feet, she started to clear away the empty bowls, plates, and chopsticks. Takumi rose to help her as she asked 

“Do you play?”

A competitive grin made its way on Takumi’s face. 

“I’m the best Shogi player in my family.. why?”

The Summoner finished cleaning up, and in the shadow of her hood he swore he could detect a hint of smile. 

“I’ll meet you at your room in the early morning for a quick game before the final war meeting.. deal?”

”You’re on!”

”Damn it, we’re late!” Takumi panted, jogging alongside Robyn as they raced down the halls, her trademark cloak breezing out behind her. 

She’d had met him outside his room in the early morning, Shogi board in hand, and also miso soup and rice dumplings with sweet soy sauce glaze. She’d been so happy that they had so much in common, they’d lost track of time. Game wise they were tied and given how competitive the Hoshidan prince was, she could sense another string of games happening in the near future. 

“At least we had fun.” she teased back as they ran. “I didn’t realize you were so good. Warn me next time.”

”In a battle there’s no time for warnings!” he shot back. “The enemy certainly won’t!”

”Fair.” she responded as they finally reached the long staircase. 

Takumi was only a little out of breath, but Robyn found she was still bursting with energy as they reached the stairs, and a sudden thought came to mind. 

“Let’s slide down the banister!”

”Do.. what?” A frown crossed his face. “Isn’t that something kids do?”

”What’s wrong, you scared?” Robyn countered mischievously, earning a scoff. 

“Me? No way! Just watch me!”

Without a second thought, he launched himself onto the banister and began to slide down. Shaking her head in amusement, Robyn followed suit. As she sailed down the railing behind Takumi, she heard a startled yelp from Ricken as they shot past him and Niles who were heading downstairs.

”What the- Robyn?!”

She heard the mage’s voice as Niles chuckled. Takumi landed on his feet on the ground below, and quickly moved aside as Robyn landed gracefully beside him. 

“That was awesome!” Takumi exclaimed, a glow in his eyes, then noticed Niles and Ricken staring, and his expression shifted quickly to a nonchalant one, coughing as he tried to compose himself. 

“I mean, that was fun. I guess.”

”It’s okay to have fun sometimes.” Robyn murmured quietly to him. 

“Is.. sliding down the banister safe though?” Ricken questioned as Niles sidled up to him from behind and leaned in close to whisper seductively in his ear. 

“I’ll slide down it with you if you want.. we can even hold hands~”

Ricken’s eyes widened and he squeaked out 

“No thanks!” as he darted behind Robyn. 

Niles just snickered as they made their way to the meeting room. Alfonse was already there, checking supplies and doing a headcount. Him, Shareena, Commander Anna, Cherche, Fredrick, Laslow, and Gregor were leading the charge. Takumi, Niles, Ricken, and Henry would support from the back with distance attacks. Jakob and Flora would heal, and Robyn would give directions safely behind them. Seeing that the final preparations were made, Alfonse called

”Let’s move out!”

The soldiers responded with a resounding cheer and they headed out. While their army seemed small, a single hero could easily take on a group of Emblian soldiers, as Alfonse liked to say. The war against the World of Binding lasted several days, the first battle being against the army’s leader, a man named Roy, while the rest were against Roy’s soldiers. Robyn knew in order to break Binding from the contract, they would have to defeat him for good. She hoped that was soon. She could see the toll the string of battles was having on the soldiers, especially Takumi. He often looked worn, his hazel and amber eyes haunted, and Robyn couldn’t help but wonder if he was being plagued with nightmares again. But it didn’t stop the prince’s deadly accuracy. Finally the final battle came, and Roy looked impressed as he twirled his sword. 

“Wow, Askr’s army is no joke.” he said with a grin. “If you win this final battle, we’ll be free from contract!”

Robyn felt a pang. If they weren’t forced to fight, they could have been friends. Roy raised his sword, and the clearing exploded into battle. 

“Takumi and Niles, clear the skies for Cherche! Ricken and Henry, cover her from archers!” Robyn ordered. 

They nodded, but not without a sneer from Niles.

”Ohh yes! Let’s see how many times I can penetrate them with my arrows until they submit..”

”..Can I shoot him?” Takumi asked, glancing back at her. 

“No.” Robyn sighed. “Unfortunately we need him. The Order of Heroes is short of heroes as it is.”

”Just admit you love me.” Niles taunted in between firing arrows. 

“No, we do NOT!” Takumi and Ricken yelled at the same time, then glanced at each other in surprise.

A desperate wail rose above the sounds of the battle, diverting their attention to the sound. Cherche had been knocked out of the sky, her wyvern Minerva’s left wing stained scarlet. Cherche was desperately trying to shield her wyvern from the onslaught of attacks that were aimed at her. Fredrick heard the cry, and was furiously battling through walls of enemies to get to her side. Tears streamed down the rider’s face, and she was doubled over in pain, her armor full of nicks and dents, but she refused to leave her wyvern’s side. 

“Takumi, Niles, and Ricken: help Fredrick! Flora and Jakob, get Cherche out of there. Watch for arrows!”

The trio quickly complied, and even Niles’s usual smirk had stiffened into a thin line. With their attacks all concentrated in the same place, Robyn could see a gap opening up in the enemy ranks, and Flora and Jakob hurried through, daggers drawn. By then, Fredrick had reached Cherche, who leaned against Minerva for support and was mowing down her assailants like they were made of feathers. Jakob rushed over and draped Cherche’s arm over his shoulder, helping her stagger away while Flora guided Minerva. Cherche’s head hung limply as they approached, murmuring incoherently. 

“Minerva.. have to.. pro.. tect..”

”Minerva is safe too, my lady. Be strong now.” Jakob’s normally gruff voice was unusually gentle as he lowered her into the grass, and the maid and butler got to work assessing her injuries. 

Relieved that Cherche was being attended to, her eyes shifted back to the battle, and she let out a gasp. Alfonse had Roy pinned to the ground, his sword thrown clear and sticking out of the ground a few feet away. 

“Give up.” the blue haired prince panted, the tip of his sword pointed at the commander’s throat. 

Roy struggled for a moment longer, then sighed in defeat. 

“Alright, you’ve got me.”

Alfonse let him go and stood up, raising his voice so the gathered soldiers could hear him.

”Askr has won. As of now, the World of Binding is freed from their contract with Embla!”

The soldiers cheered, including many of Roy’s men. It was clear they were not happy about being forced to fight. Roy dusted himself off, grinning as he picked up his sword and held out his hand to Alfonse, giving him a firm handshake. 

“Geez, you Askrian soldiers don’t play around do you? Especially that Summoner of yours. Next time we cross paths, hopefully it’ll be on the same side. 

Commander Anna nodded in agreement as she flicked the dirt and grass off of the front of her armor. 

“We wouldn’t want to fight you again, that’s for sure.” she puffed. 

“Well then, until next time.” Roy concluded, and with a wave, him and his soldiers were off. 

While the other soldiers chatted happily amongst themselves ,Robyn hurried to where Cherche lay, Flora and Jakob hovering over her.

Takumi sighed in relief as Roy and soldiers made their retreat, his silver bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat. While he didn’t want to show weakness in front of the other soldiers, he was absolutely exhausted, his breath coming in shallow gasps, and he longed for something to lean on. His tired eyes scanned the field, resting on the Summoner as she hurried over to where Cherche lay. She had sustained the worst injuries out of everyone in the group, and he slowly ambled his way over to listen to what they were saying. 

“Her injuries are severe, but she’ll recover with a few days of rest in the infirmary.” Jakob told her as Laslow and Niles lifted her gently. 

“When I said I wanted a beautiful woman in my arms, I didn’t mean like this. Poor thing.” Laslow sighed wistfully, brushing Cherche’s hair away from her face, and the two maneuvered her carefully through the portal. 

The others followed, until it was just him and the Summoner, who was holding open the portal with Briedablik. 

“After you.” she said and he nodded his thanks. 

When he had cleared through the portal, he found himself waiting for her. Waiting to make sure she made it through safely. And when she did, he fell into step beside her as they walked through the field to the castle, an amicable silence between them. Robyn’s steps were light and carefree, her cloak breezing out behind her. It made him smile, just slightly, and her words spoken only days earlier echoed through his mind. 

It’s okay to have fun sometimes!

The memory of sliding down the banister in front of everyone normally made his face heat up, but now he felt differently when he recalled the exhilaration that had flooded over him in that moment, moving at a speed that felt like flying. It reminded him of childhood, full of wonder and innocence far from the cruel nightmares of war. Was this emotional freedom what the Summoner was fighting for all along?

What’s wrong, you scared?

Me? No way! Just watch me!

Suddenly, Takumi realized he didn’t care if the others thought it was childish. He wanted to do it again. 

AN: Omg the fluff in this chapter was too much.. in a good way. Next chapter will be a beach chapter, since I think our heroes deserve a little break after this battle. The war from Embla is far from over, so stay tuned for many more chapters to come! 

[coeurdastronaute]

Nerd 14

Previously on Nerd

There weren’t many things considered as decorations in the house on the corner of Inglewood Street. The old stone house, with its black shutters and manicured lawn hid behind a stately oak and the polished Porsche in the driveway, glowed as a beacon in the neighborhood, of perfection and wealthy modesty. Inside, it was less populated than one might expect, never fully lived-in, at least not to the casual observer. 

Clarke moved her way down the stairs as she balanced the bag on her shoulder, fully prepared for work and then studying with her girlfriend on a fairly boring Saturday night. For the first time in a long time, she looked at the sparse frames of pictures of her family. 

Unsure of what made her pause, she furrowed, pushing her eyebrows tightly together and leaning into the image of her mother and father on a random date when they were together in college. They were carefree and at some bar trivia night. Abby hugged Jake’s bicep and nearly hid in his shoulder as he leaned forward, other arm lifted to interject an answer. He was smiling wide despite his eagerness, the flash ricocheting off part of his large glasses. His hair was floppy and fully, swept to the side and neatly arranged, while Abby was brimming with life. Clarke loved the candid picture because sometimes she looked at it, and these were two people who had entire lives and experiences and she forgot that. They probably got butterflies like she did when Lexa smiled at her. They probably spent hours excitedly waiting to see the other. 

In that picture, her mother wasn’t the person she was now, though both seemed insanely far away from Clarke. This college-aged person was alive, vibrant, in-love, awake, eager, and not cheating on her husband. The body language alone showed how much she adored him. 

In that picture, her father was the funny, charming man she remembered, not the angry, frustrated man who was skin and bones, who couldn’t eat, who couldn’t swallow, who had difficulties moving most days and remembering his own daughter others. He was alive as well. He was the man everyone wanted to sit beside for some reason, for som inexplicable reason he had this… he had a spark that drew those to him like a moth to a flame, except he was that flame, and he shared his light eagerly with those around him. 

Clarke relaxed her face after a few moments of looking and seeing and trying to find some kind of detail in that picture that would indicate that the couple in it would know what their life would like like two decades later. There wasn’t a single indication, and that terrified her. 

“Did you finish you math?” her mother’s voice called from the hallway, hearing her daughter shift and move to look at the next picture without seeing her first. 

“Yes.” 

The next image was a very tiny Clarke on her father’s shoulders and her mother hugging his waist as they all stood beneath a redwood tree. They had hiking gear, shorts, sunglasses, hats and sunscreen. They were all smiling. They were a family. 

“Did you email me that draft of your personal essay for applications?” 

Clarke gave up perusing, no longer feeling the yearn for that family unit that was far away. She rolled her eyes and stomped her way down the steps to find her mother sorting through envelopes and mail. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” Abby didn’t look up as she flipped.

“Because I’m a junior, and I have five months before applications are due.”

“That’s no excuse not to be prepared. Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time chasing after some gir--”

“Who am I chasing after?” Clarke scoffed, crossing her arms and peering at her mother. “Do you mean helping Lexa on her submission for film school? Do you mean tennis practice? Do you mean working part time? Do you mean having a social life?” 

“Considerate that you can help someone else get into college.” 

“It’s going to take her months to edit, which I can’t-- I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

That did it. Clarke knew it would. Clarke new an overt expression of her own independence would trigger her mother. She knew arguing and not appearing to care about college would give her the satisfaction of a righteous fight. She wanted it. It’d been brewing for about a week and a half, ever since Clarke said she was going prom dress shopping without her. Ever since Clark forgot to tell her about spending the night camping with Lexa and the film crew while the powered through the project. Ever since Clarke didn't’ come home for dinner last Tuesday and then raved about Mrs. Woods’ garlic chicken. Tiny things Clarke did with spite because she didn’t know what else to do, because she couldn’t do anything else. 

Abby’s nostrils flared and Clarke jutted her hip, shrugging to herself as she dug for her phone, ready to go to work and escape the house and the persistent smell of medical equipment and cleaner that haunted her until she was about two blocks from the house. 

“I’ll be home around midnight.” 

“Like hell you will. You’ll be home right after your shift.” 

“No,” Clarke paused as she turned to leave. “I’m going over Lexa’s to study. We’re watching a Cary Grant movie.” 

“You’re under the misconception that you get to make your own schedule and plans without asking permission. But that is not the case, Clarke.” 

“I’ve been doing fine.” 

“You’ve barely been home. Your father is--”

“Right there, in that room, asleep. I know this because I spent the morning with him. We made pancakes and played a game of cribbage. We talked about school and Lexa and I showed him pictures of the past week of my life. And I helped him with his meds because he’s having a bit of a flare. I told him I’d see him in the morning for omelettes because we’ve been watching cooking shows together and he wants to try the french style. I know exactly what is going on with my father.” 

She hadn’t meant to, but her voice began to raise as she spoke. Clarke felt her fist shake. She felt her muscles tighten and her jaw clench. She was okay with being considered lazy and unmotivated, but to be accused of negligence was uncalled for, especially from someone like her mother. 

“Don’t you raise your voice! You are greatly mistaken as to the nature of our relationship. I am your mother, and I am sick of your attitude, and your priorities not being your father and your family or your education.” 

“Lexa has nothing to do with any of that. Are you just mad I’m dating a girl? Or that I don’t care what you think anymore?” 

Slightly taken aback by her daughter, by her words, by her actions, by her entire demeanor over the past few months and frankly just sick of dealing with being the bad guy. 

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Abby shook her head. 

“I could say the same thing.” 

The two stared at each other before Clarke shook her head and adjusted her bag. She toyed with her keys in her pockets before checking her phone again. 

“I’m going to be late for work. I’ll be back tonight.” 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Abby insisted again. “You’re grounded indefinitely.” 

“Except I’m not,” Clarke sighed and shook her head. “I’m not because I don’t care anymore. I genuinely don’t.”

“You’re going to. Give me your keys and your phone.” 

“No.” 

“I’m not joking, Clarke. You’re going to need to readjust your priorities and attitude.”

“I think you should take your own advice,” Clarke insisted as she reached the front door. “Or are you too busy fucking Kane to realize that there is no more family here?” 

With a satisfying slam, she yanked the door shut. The anger that was stationed in her shoulders dissipated with the noise and movement. Clarke stood there in the quiet of her perfect neighborhood, the flapping of the flag lazily moving in the spring breeze was all she heard at first. Then the birds came. Then a lawnmower started in the distance. 

Clarke felt lighter than she’d felt in a long time. She also felt emptier than any other time in her life. It was officially the end, and now she had to deal with that because the anger and the hurt and the betrayal was all she’d had in her for what felt like months. It hadn’t made anything better, and it certainly ruined everything, but Clarke took some solace in the fact that now she could try to fill herself up with something else. 

XXXXXXXXXX

The party at Bellamy Blake’s house was in full swing by the time Lexa made her way up the winding driveway and into the belly of the beast. She wasn’t sure how she ended up there exactly, except that her girlfriend texted and said to show up. That seemed to be enough of a reason, though Lexa wasn’t particularly prepared. They’d had plans. Quiet plans. Private plans. Movie plans. 

And now Lexa was going to her girlfriend’s ex’s party. 

She shoved her hands in her pockets as she moved through the crowd, clearly not getting the memo that jeans were not entirely good enough attire, and in fact she seemed to be extremely overdressed. Her eyes bugged slightly as she watched a girl from her physics class walk by in a very tiny, very teeny lime green bikini. Lexa became suddenly aware of the appeal of such things, as if she hadn’t noticed them before, but then MIchelle who sat diagonally in front of her third period looked like that and she gulped. 

The music thumped loudly. The beats were rattling the walls and shaking the windows while the screams and giggles of her classmates sought to shatter glass. It wasn’t like the other parties she’d been to with Clarke. It wasn’t even like thrones Anya dragged her to when she visited. This was a night of debauchery and she hadn’t had time to prepare. 

And as much as she saw everyone else wearing bikinis, she hadn’t thought about Clarke wearing one. She’d seen Clarke’s boobs before. That was nice. But there was something to her girlfriend in a bikini that was… good. Very good, even. 

Lexa pushed her glasses up slightly on her nose and stared. 

“What are you doing here?” Gus asked, approaching quietly. She didn’t move or say anything else, just stared from across the pool, the steam billowing upward to ward the sky while everyone seemed to glow blue and green and red, the lights alternating around them, the flames of the fire pits dancing to keep everyone warm. The warm glow of the lights inside were lost on the white-blue shade to the water. 

“Lexa, focus,” he snapped his fingers in front of her face. “What are you doing here? Your sister would kill me if she knew you were at a Blake party.” 

“How is it different than any other party?” 

“It just is.” 

“Because of the pool? I’ve been to pool parties.” 

It hadn’t been since seventh grade and didn’t look like an episode of a CW show, but still, she’d been to a pool party with many of the same cast of characters that were currently on display. It was before puberty, but still. 

“We need to get you home.” 

“Clarke invited me.” 

“It doesn’t matter. This isn’t your scene.” 

“I can be in any scene. I’ve watched every John Hughes movie.”

“This is more of an episode of Euphoria than an 80s teen flick,” Gus sighed and took another swig from his cup. “And I fully believe you would fit in fine with Molly Ringwald.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Lexa nodded. “I’ll be fine.” 

She took her eyes off of her girlfriend long enough to assure her friend that she was perfectly fine now. She was dating the head cheerleader. She’d been to parties and seen--

“Gus-- is that cocaine?” 

“Okay, yeah, we have to get you out of here,” he shook his head and tossed his empty cup into a flowerbed. 

“Is it really?” she asked, craning her neck as he pushed her forward. “I’ve never see that in real life before. People actually do that thing with the credit cards and dollar bills? Astounding. Where does one get cocaine?” 

“You don’t need to know that.” 

“I’m not going to do it. I’m just curious.” 

They only made it a few steps before the ran into a sopping body. A tall, muscular, tan, perfectly chiseled and dripping body. It was the body of an actual god. It was the body of the perfect specimen, with biceps and the long swimmer cuts that pointed firmly toward his… his-ness. 

“Gus, long time, man. How you been?” Bellamy Blake grinned before slipping his cup in his teeth as he hugged the other football player. 

“Not too bad. Heard you’re heading to Oregon in the fall?” 

“Yeah, partial scholarship. We’ll see what happens,” he shrugged. “Staying close?” 

“Yeah, St. Johns, about three hours away.” 

“Full ride?” 

“Yeah. I got offered half to OSU, but would rather not have to pay anything.” 

“No, that’s smart.” 

The whole time they spoke, Lexa watched Clarke’s ex intently. She frowned to herself and wondered how her girlfriend broke up with him. He was effortlessly cool. He was huge. He looked like he knew how to go down on a girl, and Lexa was still apprehensive. She wished she could fast forward in life until she was really good at sex. 

She watched him grin and sip from his red cup, meeting her eyes curiously as Gus explained something about his college recruitment process. 

“I don’t think we’ve ever met before. I’m Bellamy.” 

He held out his hand. And though she didn’t want to do it, she sighed and shook his hand. 

“Sorry, I should have introduced you. This is Lexa.” 

“Lexa… Lexa…” He mulled. 

“Anya Woods’ sister.” 

“Wow, you’re Anya’s little sister?” 

“Yeah.” 

“How is she? I forgot she had a little sister. I remember her little brother died-- oh shit.” 

“Yeah.” 

“We were just heading out,” Gus interrupted. 

“I was actually just going to go talk to Clarke.” 

“Why would you--”

Before anything else could be said, before anything else could transpire between the two of them, before Gus had to interrupt again, Clarke appeared, launching herself into her girlfriend’s arms, wrapping her own around her neck, her body still slightly damp from the pool she must have just climbed out of during the awkward introduction. 

“You’re here. I’m so happy,” Clarke hummed against Lexa’s warm neck. She buried herself there, suffocating herself happily, slightly tipsy. 

“I told you I’d stop by.” 

Clarke kissed her girlfriend’s neck. She leaned most of her body against her there and giggled, oblivious to the eyes, too drunk to care about anything else happening. 

“I am have the worst day. Maybe the worst week. Maybe the worst year ever. No, wait. Definitely the worst year, and today I finally told my mom everything and then left. So Yeah. It’s been terrible. I got drunk.” 

“Not the healthiest coping mechanism.”

“Not a bit,” Clarke grinned, agreeing eagerly and with a wide grin. She leaned forward and kissed her girlfriend despite her words. 

“You can be healthy tomorrow,” Lexa offered. “You okay?” 

“As okay as can be.” 

There was some throat clearing that happened behind them, and Lexa felt a burning in her ears and chest at the display, unaccustomed to it all. 

“So this is your new girlfriend?” Bellamy asked, looking at the pair. 

“Lex, I suppose you’ve met my ex,” Clarke gestured. 

“Kind of.” 

“Is this party a little much?”

“If I remember correctly, this was exactly the kind of thing you liked. We went to many a party in our tenure,” Bellamy shrugged, lazily leaning against a counter. “Things changed since I left, I guess.” 

“I enjoyed not thinking,” Clarke offered. “You were great for that.” 

Gus and Lexa looked between the two and then at each other. She was almost certain she didn’t know what was happening, but that certainly, something was, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. 

“You moved on quick, huh?” 

“Hey, step back,” Gus interrupted as Bellamy took a single step. “This is Anya’s sister.” 

“Woods?” he furrowed. “You’re dating Anya Woods’ kid sister?” 

“Yup,” Clarke nodded. 

“I heard she was--”

“Standing right here,” Gus finished. 

Lexa felt Clarke’s hand move into her own and she smiled despite the fact that she was picking up a drunk girl at her college guy ex’s party. There was a lot in that sentence she wasn’t happy about, now that she thought about it. 

“You ready to get out of here?” Lexa asked innocently, ignoring the rest. 

“I think we still have a few more shots lined up, Clarke,” Bellamy smiled and Lexa understood the need to punch. 

Noticeably torn, she looked at her girlfriend and back at her ex before realizing that she was actually drunk, and that wasn’t good. Lexa smiled softly and rubbed her girlfriend’s back. She kind of imagined how it must have felt to implode and take her mother down with her. Lexa remembered the feeling of telling her father she was gay and sad. Clarke’s implosion didn’t seem as successful as her own, and Lexa was more than happy to try to help in whatever way she could. 

“Can I stay at your place tonight?” 

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded quickly. “I’ll text my mom to let her know.” 

“You’re seriously leaving?” The college football player and terrible ex scoffed. “The night is still young. It’s barely after eleven.” 

“Thanks for getting me drunk, but I should probably go do something better.” 

“Thanks for showing me around,” Lexa offered nodding her head slightly toward the host before he could argue. “Have a good night. I’ll see you on Monday, Gus.”

“Get home safe,” the linebacker warned. 

Slightly dumbfounded, Bellamy Blake stood there, hands on his hips as he watched his ex weave through the crowd of people and disappear. As much s everything stayed the same, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling of change, and how averse he was to it. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“Here, you can, uh,” Lexa quickly moved through her bedroom, leaving her girlfriend standing by the bed. “I have some old sweats if you want.” 

Already, Clarke began taking off her pants, and Lexa quickly looked in the drawers of her dresser. She felt the tips of her ears burn slightly as she looked over her shoulder, her girlfriend slumping into the bed, pants lost to the floor. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone to that party. I knew it,” Clarke sighed, rubbing her face with both hands to ride herself of the spinning. “But I didn’t care. I just wanted to… you know…”

“You had it out with your mom. You just anted to go far away. I get it.” 

“Don’t be nice to me. I knew better than to go, especially to anything involving Bellamy Blake.” 

“Why?” 

“He doesn’t care about any of it. Just has drinks. I should have called you or like done something else.” 

“You’re allowed to want to take a night off from a giant secret after a huge fight. And you don’t need my permission,” Lexa reminded her girlfriend, offering an old shirt. 

“It was stupid.” 

“Do you feel better?” 

Gingerly, Lexa tugged at Clarke’s shirt, pulling it over her head until she flopped back down on the bed, her hair fanning out against the pillow. Agitated at herself, at her clothe, at the unfathomable uncontrollability to the entirety of her life, Clarke growled to herself as she tugged off her bra, tossing it to the side and gracelessly pulling on the shirt Lexa offered. 

“I don’t feel better at all.” 

It was certainly a pout, and Lexa did her best to ignore it. Instead, she slicked off the light beside the bed, and slid between the sheets next to Clarke. Lexa laid there until Clarke turned to face her, until she placed her hand on her neck and cheek. 

“I’m sorry you had to pick me up.” 

“It’s okay,” Lexa whispered. 

“It’s not. I’m not like this… I don’t mean to be… I mean--”

“It’s okay.” 

Clarke leaned forward, shifting beneath the blankets until their knees were touching. She moved to only push the hair from Lexa’s forehead and she paused before kissing her lips. She tasted the warmth of the tequila there and she didn’t care. Lexa signed. 

“Please don’t give up on me anytime soon,” Clarke murmured. Stunned from the kiss, Lexa blinked in the dark and shifted closer. 

“I wouldn’t ever.” 

“I know you wouldn’t. I just had to say it out loud.” 

“Okay.” 

Lexa was certain she was going to get another kiss, but instead, Clarke dug her forehead under her girlfriend’s chin and pressed their bodies together, hugging her tightly and disappearing, being overwhelmed, anchoring herself to a steady force. Lexa rubbed Clarke’s back for a few moments until she fell asleep, and then she allowed herself the option of sleep.

NEXT

[free-pancakes]

Dreams and Nightmares

Summary: LeviHan Canon-Divergence fic

Hange barely survives the final fight against Eren, and is saved by inheriting the Beast Titan from Zeke Yeager in the end. However, the Scouts soon find that this would come with a heavy price--particularly at Levi's expense.

Chapter 5/? Chapter 4 Chapter 3 Chapter 2 Chapter 1

crossposted to ao3 here: link

Notes: ahhh sorry for the wait! hope you like the new chapter!

CHAPTER 5

“Hange-san, are you ready?” Armin yelled.

Hange stared at the small blade in her right hand, then gazed over to her left palm. She looked back at Armin and Mikasa, standing off at a safe distance. Hange and Armin sat all night trying to think of any way she could enter paths, and figured a good way to start would be to try shifting into titan form. They’d take this one step at a time, and hopefully they’d have some better idea of what to do next. Hange was a little worried about going through the transformation for the first time, but she called Mikasa there just in case she didn’t have a good handle over her titan.

But overall, she was excited. She could become a titan!

She wondered all night what form she’d take as a beast titan—she wondered especially if it would be the animal Levi had always likened her to.

She smiled in excitement, and held her breath as she cut into her hand—yellow light flashed and smoke appeared around her.

Armin and Mikasa braced themselves as Hange shifted, they fell backwards as the ground shook beneath them, and their jaws dropped.

“Never thought a titan could be so... beautiful,” Mikasa breathed out. She was a large dog—a wolf, really—standing on all fours, with messy brown hair, the ends giving off a golden sheen in the early morning sun. It gave a huge shake, shaking off all the branches and leaves from the trees that broke around her as the titan expanded. Armin called out to Hange, but she did not emerge. Mikasa stood in front of Armin with her blade drawn in case the titan decided to attack—since Hange didn’t come out, it was safe to assume she didn’t have any control over her titan form. The wolf titan lowered its head, its teeth bared as it faced the two.

Suddenly, the titan happily stuck its tongue out, licking the two, leaving Mikasa and Armin in a mess of slobber.

“What in the world—“ Armin said out loud. He was quite surprised at the result, that Hange’s titan on her first shift could be so... docile. And it seemed to recognize him and Mikasa.

Mikasa used her ODM gear to launch herself right upon the titan’s nape, calling out to Hange, but again, there was no answer. She cut into the nape to find Hange, asleep inside. She pulled, ripping her out from the titan’s flesh and jumped back down to Armin, steam building as the large wolf titan body slowly began to disappear.

“Hange-san?”

Mikasa and Armin held on to Hange, gently shaking her to make sure she was okay. Hange slowly blinked her eyes open, and when she came to, her eyes lit up.

“That’s what I looked like?!”

Hange jumped with joy running over to her titan form, running her hands over its fur and teeth as it gradually dissipated from beneath her fingers.

“Wow... AMAZING!” she squealed with delight. Mikasa smiled, happy to see Hange back to her happy, curious self, even if it was just for a short moment.

Armin sat and stared at Hange in awe as she gushed to Mikasa, asking her for every detail about her titan form. Armin thought it to be quite fascinating, Hange’s titan able to recognize her loved ones even while she was unconscious. And on the first try.

He thought it was pretty special. Maybe there was hope that Hange could enter paths. He began to think over it all, debating all the ways they might be able to get her there.

————————————

Two weeks in, Levi began to get restless. Jean had been taking good care of him, keeping him busy as he accompanied meetings, doing what they could to help out Historia. But Levi was antsy—he was worried about Hange, about all of it.

Jean kept a close eye on Levi, and noticed. He sighed, having to use Hange’s plan this early on their trip. Before they left, Hange had given him a list of errands to finish for her to keep him busy, and Jean figured it was time to task him with that now. After sending Levi off, Jean headed towards another meeting, though his mind was somewhere else.

Last night, Levi was oddly talkative, and they chatted about a multitude of random things. Or well, Jean was mostly just listening to Levi talk his head off. Maybe it was because Hange was absent—he must have been used to someone filling the silence and just… took it upon himself. All he could think of was how Armina and MIkasa wouldn’t believe it if he told them. But at some point, Jean had mentioned that Armin would try having Hange shift into a titan while they were gone. So Jean began to think out loud about what animal her beast titan form would take on, but Levi had cut him off, adamantly sure that Hange would become some sort of dog, or related creature. Jean wondered if Levi was right, and was itching to return and find out.

————————————

Levi walked into town, his third stop being a tiny sweets shop Hange had loved. He didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but he did like the little fruit tarts Hange would bring back for him if she had some meeting in Sina. Of course Hange would put some fun little task like this on a checklist to get him to let loose a little. . He grabbed a few things for Jean and headed towards his last destination: Hange’s old lab.

Levi kicked through the door of the old Scout barracks, a thin layer of dust billowing as it came down. After patting himself down to clean himself off, he walked down the old corridors. They brought back many memories, and Levi just tried focusing on the good ones. It was almost as though he heard Oluo and Petra arguing around the corner with Eld and Gunther trying to calm them down, Hange talking Erwin’s head off in his office, Mike and Nanaba coming up behind him to tease him about something stupid. He made the familiar turn towards her lab, and opened the door, the hinges creaking loudly. A box, Hange had written, to grab from her top drawer. He walked in, touching her old microscope, running his hand over the desk he had always sat on to interrupt her from her work, nagging her to go to sleep already.

He almost smiled seeing a pile of small journals she had piled haphazardly on her desk, and grabbed them all to put in his satchel—she’d probably jump with joy seeing them again. He proceeded towards the first drawer, wondering what could be in the box. But he didn’t want to invade her privacy, so he didn’t plan on opening it.

He grabbed the handle of the drawer, pulling to no avail. It was jammed shut. Levi yanked at it a few more times, laying a foot on the lower drawer for support, until it launched out in his grip, the box inside hitting the floor, contents spilling everywhere.

Levi sighed and stopped to wipe the sweat off his brow, and reached to grab the objects off the floor, but he paused—his hands shaking as he looked at everything that fallen out. An empty box of tea, a small yellow hair clip, a seashell, a small used tube of wound ointment, a framed photograph, and a baseball. Levi’s eyes began to water as he ran his fingers over the objects, his mind racing with beloved memories of Hange.

A knock on the door interrupted the moment, startling Levi. He quickly put everything back in the box, securing it.

“Come in.”

“Captain?” Jean asked. “Did you find everything you needed?”

Levi bit his lip, holding back the tears before facing Jean. He nodded, and the two left to return to their quarters for the evening.

—————————

After the month finally passed, Levi and Jean returned back to Marley. Levi made every effort to suppress his excitement, but Jean having to speed up his horse to keep with how fast he was going.

Levi wondered whether it would be a good idea to see her right away, but he couldn’t help it. He and Jean asked Onyakopon where Hange and Armin were, and he pointed them towards where they needed to go. Levi nearly ran, Jean once again sighing trying to keep up with him. They made their way out into an open field, and Levi laid his eyes on Hange.

His heart leapt with joy, simply to see her again, but his smile quickly faded away as he looked closer. Hange stood, her skin filled with bruises, scrapes, scars all over. She looked completely exhausted, heaving as residual bouts of titan steam swirled around her. She was sustaining injuries faster than she could even heal them.

“Hange-san, please, I think you should stop! You’ve overdone it again!” Mikasa yelled out.

Hange continued to heave, but her eyes only lit with determination. She was so close, she could feel it—she would reach paths. She just knew she would, a month of all their training and ideas bounced back and forth between her and Armin. There was just some key missing, and they hadn’t figured it out yet.

“Oi, you should listen to them.”

Armin, Mikasa, and Hange turned to see Levi and Jean standing off into the distance. Hange looked at Levi, locking eye contact for the first time in God knows how long. Too long. Levi stared back at Hange, and there was no flinching, no fear, no nothing—just his Hange, her eyes kind and bright, pools of honey in the afternoon sun meeting his gaze. He wanted nothing but to run out towards her, but he restrained himself to a smile, waiting to see what she wanted.

“Awwwww Mikasa, Armin! One more time, please?? So Levi and Jean can see my titan form!”

Armin worriedly looked towards her, but gave in. What was one more try? He’d make her rest for awhile after anyway, at least a few days.

After nodding his approval, Hange looked back towards Levi again with a smile that made his knees weak. “Levi! You wouldn’t believe what my titan form looks like!” She exclaimed. He folded his arms and nodded, waiting. She gave him a thumbs up, smiling and staring at Levi happy as ever to see him again, and slashed a blade at her hand. Yellow light flashed, almost electrifying. Steam puffed out from where she stood, but there wasn’t a titan—there wasn’t a large figure looming in the smoke as usual.

Something was wrong. Jean and Levi looked at each and rushed in, finding Armin and Mikasa already at Hange’s side. She was on the ground, unconscious. Levi sprinted towards her, gathering her up in his arms.

“What happened??” He yelled angrily at Armin—he knew it wasn’t Armin’s fault but he didn’t know how else to direct his anger. They had just been reunited again, and somehow she was lying limp in his hands.

Levi shook, unashamed this time, tears streaming down his face as he repeated Hange’s name over and over again like a mantra. Armin held his fingers over Hange’s wrist feeling for a pulse—thankfully it was there, and they all felt a wave of relief. But Armin noticed something else.

“Her pulse… it’s not like she’s fainted or something. Her pulse was racing, as though she was awake.”

Armin paused.

Mikasa stared wide-eyed at Armin and back at Hange. “Do you think she…?”

Levi knelt in the grass and cradled her body close to his, rubbing his thumbs gently over the titan marks on her face, his hands shaking uncontrollably in worry.

Armin stared in shock—“I think she made it into paths.”

Levi ran his fingers through her hair, and pulled her chin over his shoulder, holding her head close next to his. His tears spilled over her face, running down her skin as he tried wiping it away with his sleeve.

“Hange, I’m right here,” Levi whispered into her ear. Jean, Mikasa, and Armin stood behind Levi, staring dumbstruck as he held Hange in his arms.

——————

Hange woke up, as though she was rising from a deep sleep.

How long have I been out?

She blinked her eyes open, staring at the starry sky above her.

“Levi, did you see?” She whispered, excited to hear what he thought of her titan.

But, she turned, to find no one next to her.

Sand?

She raised her hand, grains of sand falling gently from her palm.

She sat up to find herself…

“I’m in, paths?” She thought out loud.

“Yes.”

Hange whipped her head around at the familiar voice.

A man stood behind her, his glasses glinting in the starlight and green glow of the paths realm, blowing smoke as he pulled his cigarette away from his lips.

“ZEKE!” Hange yelled in a rage. She jumped up to tackle him to the ground, quickly threw her fist towards his face, intending to make him pay for all the pain he caused her, and especially Levi.

Zeke caught her fist in his hand, shaking as he tried to hold off her strength.

He gritted his teeth as he faced her, anger etched in every inch of her face.

He said in a strained voice as he fought off her strength—

“Hange Zoe.”

[botwstoriesandsuch]

Heya!! Kip here! The @memorabiliazine preorders have just shipped, which means we can share our pieces now! I wrote this piece back in February, after theorizing about the presence of Robbie's Telescope being present in the Royal Tech Lab in Age of Calamity. So without further a do, here be my little essay/fic on some old ruins, or more specifically, its:

Cause of Destruction

The storm had come too late. Thankfully, it was all devastated.

She continued to run from the screaming.

The Sheikah woman headed for the hills, brittle trees littering the eastern side of the Lindor mountain side. If she hurried, she could meet up with the others who had—

A distant crack of thunder melded with the collapse of stone; she makes the mistake of glancing back.

In the greater horizon, the shadow of Hyrule Castle looms over a conquered dusk. A shrill cry—something between a roar and a whine—escapes from the cloudy malice beast that enshrouds the Hylian monument. But that was just the backdrop, the canvas for contrast. Closer still, in the billowing grass of North Hyrule Plain, the stormy winds cut through fog and smoke like a dagger.

In the opened wound, the faint silhouette of a building glows.

Blue.

Blue.

Blue.

She keeps running.

The color might have at one point been appealing—the symbol of the Royals, the pleasant hue that cloaked a perfect morning. But tonight it just haunted her...chased her...reminded her of the terrible deed that was done.

A horse came over the hills.

“HEY!” a man shouted, mounted on a grey horse. “MA’AM! HALT, PLEASE!”

Crap. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, clutched her limp, burned arm, and kept moving. I just need to reach the trees.

But the chase seemed over before it had even started. When she had first started running from the blue, some wandering captain had stopped her to ask what was wrong. There was a strange kindness in his striking eyes, a forgein concept in this land now stricken with grief, death, and paranoia. In her haste—and possibly shame of what she had done—she had just pushed the captain away and fled. Very inconspicuous…good job me.

Now it seems he had found her again. Any other day she might have commended him for his kindness in checking with some random Sheikah, during the end of the world no less.

But tonight, well...there’s a sliver of her that might have preferred death.

The woman tripped on a divet in the earth, crashing down on one of her badly burned legs, and hissed at the pain. The rain had muddied the path, and was staining her once white clothes a disgusting marron. The pounding of hooves grew closer, until they halted right next to her ears.

A pair of leather boots crashed into the mud.

“Ma’am, don’t get up. You’re injured. Please.”

The clang of metal armour accompanies the voice. Oh he was a captain alright, equipped well for the apocalypse. His metalspear and armour adorned in—

She looks up.

Blue.

A slight frown.

The man tries to help her to her feet, watching to not clutch on the wounds on her right side. “Whatcha doing all the way out here? The nearest settlement is a ways away.” The captain lifts up one of her arms, and his eyes widen just a bit. “Dammit...those burns look bad. We might getcha some aid...there’s a laboratory place nearby that I’m heading by, just due east and—”

“...Lab?” The woman can’t help but wonder aloud. No...you idiot, you can’t be serious.

The captain smiles again. “See now, that’s why I was so eager to catch your attention. You’re running in the wrong direction.” He points in the direction she was running towards. “Up where you’re going is just mountains. There’s a fancy smancy lab a bit south that could help patch you up better than—”

“If you head to that lab, you’ll die.” She lets the words linger for a moment. “Unless, of course, that was the desired plan for the evening.” The woman laughs to herself, but the sound is empty and dry.

He frowns. “...What?”

She’s silent, gears turning in her head. Goddess...how do I say this without—

She points east, the rain pattering on her outstretched sleeve. “Tell me, Captain. What do you see over there?”

The man pauses, his face contort with confusion. He follows her hand and stares at the blue.

“...North Hyrule Plain. Some building glowing blue over there…I’m assuming that’s the techno-wizz from the L—”

“Lab, yes. That would be the Royal Ancient Lab. Though I’m afraid it’s not glowing from ‘techno-wizz’ or anything of that sort, dear captain.”

She crosses her arms, turning to look away from the blue and hugging her knees. “It’s currently burning to the ground.”

An ugly pause, as the man seems to take a moment to digest this. He flickers his gaze between the Sheikah and the distant blue building.

“I-It’s...It’s raining though—”

“Blue flame, I’m afraid, is a bit more resistant. Plus, it’s been burning long before the storm came through.”

“What...I…” The captain sits next to her, plopping into the mud in disbelief. “I was really thinking that...why would…”

He turns to her, his eyes are stormy grey, with faint specks of blue, like embers. The captain’s tone is gravely serious. “Miss, why was that lab destroyed?”

The question catches her off guard. Her jaw’s clenched, but she breaks their staring contest and hides her surprise with a shrug. “Same reason as every other disaster today. Calamity Ganon destroyed it.”

There’s a crack of thunder, and the ground shudders at her lie.

“...No.” the man mumbles.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to process—”

“No, I mean,” he stands, hand reaching for his back, “that’s not what actually happened, is it ma’am?”

Crap. The Sheikah holds her hands in the air. “If this is about me shoving you earlier, I was just a bit—”

“Aw now don’tcha worry about that, I took no personal offense.” He scratches the blond stubble on his chin.

“Now the thing that I do find some mighty fine offense to, is the fact that there’s a good lick of a chance that I’m currently speaking to an arsonist traitor.”

There’s a BOOM, and in the distance, another large piece of the Royal Lab collapses into the earth. The blue grows brighter.

“Me? What in the name of Hylia are you—”

“Let’s not play dumb, ma’am. Trust me, I’m a sucker for some pleasantries and small talk, though I’m afraid addressing the fact that you burned down the nearest safe haven for miles is gonna take priority here.”

The Sheikah woman just fumes, attempting to get up in the captain’s face. “How DARE you accuse me of—”

She’s cut off by the shing of metal cutting through air. The captain twirls the spear on his back and points the end right at her neck, resting just below her chin. She scowls, but puts her hands in the air.

“You just don’t understan—”

“That’s a mighty fine torch you got there…” He clicks his tongue.

Both hands grip his spear steady, ready to pierce flesh at any moment. The captain gestures with a wink to the torch attached to her waist. It seems to still smolder slightly with faint blue embers.

The captain looks between the torch, and the blue fire in the horizon.

“Yes, a mighty fine torch indeed.” He presses the spear tip a bit further forward.

“And it’s glowing a familiar color.”

Cause of Destruction

An Analysis of the Destruction of the Royal Ancient Lab

By Dr. J Kippers

(But please, Kippers was my father, call me Kip)

So heroes are a thing, huh? Who’da thunk it! One minute, I’m continuing my travels, studying some cool rocks and bricks in Hyrule Field. Then the next, a giant malice pig appears and fights some teenage boy wielding a glowing stick. I definitely wasn’t cowering behind the ruins of a garrison bathroom while that all happened, and I definitely was doing some cool badass fighting moves with my...pen, to help that knight and save the world and stuff. Makes for a pretty cool story, yeah? HA, Traysi would kill for it…

But enough of my daring, slightly exaggerated, exploits. It’s been a few weeks since the world’s settled down from the Calamity’s defeat, which means I had prime time to settle back into my hometown, and put my years of travel and research to paper!

I spent the majority of my life studying the history of Hyrule as it fell to the Calamity 100 years ago...and with the world now revitalizing, it’s just prime time to get myself out there! Research wise, that is!

At first, I didn’t really know what to write, cause WOW there’s just so many topics to choose from. Plus there’s a lot on the line here, gotta make a good impression for whatever new kingdom that Princess Zelda’s got planned. She seems the scholarly type, yeah? I’m thinking I could snag some Hyrule history teach’ position at a rebuilt university or something… Princess has got an awful lot of focus on the reconstruction of different village ruins. Which is fair, cause who better to know how to rebuild these places than the people who were alive to see them in their prime!

And you see, that’s where my journey of knowledge began! People with first hand knowledge of the events of distant past are alive? OH a historian’s dream…my soul swells in happiness. Plus, I also got my researcher brain a-tingling. My dad’s friend’s cousin’s neighbor’s grandma’s dog’s breeder knew Dr. Robbie back in the day, so Sheikah tech is basically in my blood.

With these passions rejuvenated I had my goal! Publish some revolutionary new theory that combined my awesome knowledge for history, archeology, and tech! And what better place to see that than, (duh) the Royal Ancient Lab Ruins.

Now, there doesn’t seem to be much in these ruins…it’s absolutely barren. No weapons or treasures to be seen. Just your run-of-the-mill ruined ruins, destroyed long ago by the Calamity. And that was the end of the story.

At least that’s what I thought until I did a little more digging. See, as I was doing some additional research, I stumbled upon this old history/research book stored in the Kakariko archive. I have no idea where it came from...it’s titled...C-Caa...Creation? Creating? Creating a...Cham...it’s kinda faded and hard to read. But anyhow, this weird little history book was written by some guy named “Nine-tendons.” If someone out there has a copy feel free to hit me up, but for today’s sake title and author don’t really matter. The point is, one of the quotes in that book describes the ruins like this:

Royal Ancient Lab Ruins

It is thought that these ruins represent the ancient relic research facility that was under the direct rule of Hyrule Castle, but only the outer walls remain. There is no trace of the building’s interior, let alone any research materials.

The thoroughness of its destruction feels intentional. [Page 396, Cr_ating a Champ___, Nint__do.]

Now I’m not too familiar with the work of whoever Mr. Nin-Ten-doves is, but I strangely trust their word on the topic wholeheartedly. Call it a feeling from the divine if you must, but they’re right! It seems so much more obvious in hindsight.

My adventures into the other various ruins across Hyrule always gave me something to work with. The world is just crafted for exploration. Old treasure chests, weird rocks with a tiny talking tree fairy underneath. Hell, even a monster or two was always happy to inhabit even the smallest of ruins I’ve entered. Yet, there is absolutely nothing of prominence to be seen at the ruins of the Royal Ancient Lab. And I’ve double, triple, and quintuple-checked!

Why are there no rusted weapons...or treasures...or any records or evidence of anything, other than some crude stone walls and a rock? That kind of destruction is just unnecessarily absolute, even for the Calamity.

According to detailed drawings/notes I have in my records of Historical Works during the Age of Calamity (HW AOC for short), the Royal Ancient Lab was nearly three stories tall, with a royal blue ceiling, complete with a basement level, and an upper telescope! With even the smallest of structures (like simple ranch and village ruins) still standing today with plenty of artifacts, why is as great a structure as the Royal Lab so desolate?

Intentional, intentional, intentional...that word ran through my head for days, weeks, months even. Why would the Royal Ancient Lab be destroyed intentionally? Did the Calamity see it as that major a threat? No, that wouldn’t make sense, the movements of Calamity Ganon that day clearly show his intention to use the Sheikah power against the people of Hyrule. An Ancient Lab would be a major benefit, if anything…

So, surprising as it may be, the current prime suspect for the destruction of this lab would actually be…

The Sheikah just glares. “Well...what gave it away?

He shrugged his shoulders with a half smile. “Deductive reasoning, with a hint of some good ol’ luck perhaps.”

“Listen, I know this looks bad, but you have to understand—”

“Oh I understand quite well alright.” The captain gives a wink. “I try to be humble, but Mama always did say I was the smartest cookie she knew.”

He rests the end of his spear on her collarbone, the threat clearly still present, but it gives him the freedom to pace and wipe rain for his soaked blonde hair.

“See I know that Calamity Ganon’s corrupted every bit of Sheikah tech from here to Lurelin. I know that he’s been targeting Hylian settlements. ‘Seen it myself when some monsters and Guardians destroyed my regiment and post at Maritta Exchange, just a bit north from here. I know that the only reason the other settlements, like the Rito and Zora, are still standing is because Ganon’s focusing all his forces on finding and killing the Hylian Champion and the princess. And finally I know that because of that, there is not a Guardian or monster around for many a mile. I mean, just lookie over there.”

The woman turns her head, and sure enough, the plains are barren of all life. No movement of machine or beast or person.

“And now my assumption was—and do pardon me if my monologue is redundant to your traitor ears—that the nearest place of safety would be this royal laboratory of technology. It’s Sheikah run, so it wouldn’t be immediately targeted. Plus the last thing the Calamity would want is for his personal army of destruction to be...well, destroyed. Ifs I was them evil cloud demon thing, I woulda wanted the lab with all my corrupted techno babble soldiers to be kept in peak condition. However…”

The captain turns to the right, staring at the blazing blue building in the distance. “...That does not seem to be the case.”

The Sheikah opens her mouth to speak, but he holds up the spear again. “Now I’m thinking, the only reason someone would go about destroying that lab, would perhaps be to kill some people, no?”

“We didn’t—”

“Getting rid of the people who could possibly reverse the Guardian corruption...now I suppose that might be a good evil plan.”

“It was for the be—”

“Ma’am I’m all about looking on the bright side of things, but,” the captain flicks his head in the direction of the blue, “This ain’t exactly the light a’ hope I was wanting.”

“Maybe not, but—”

“So,who are ya? Yiga?”

“No, it’s—”

“Solo treason then. You getting revenge on someone ‘round here? A noble? The King? Or perhaps you’re just the sadistic type with the whole—”

“NO!”

The outburst surprises the both of them, and he hold the spear to ner neck firmly. Another crack of thunder reminds them of the silence that’s endured. The Sheikah finally sighs.

“Perhaps by definition I am an arsonist and a traitor, but for one thing, I wasn’t alone.”

The man’s eyes shine curiously, but she continues.

“I will gladly die alongside them, as my actions have only been for the benefit of Hyrule.”

The rain’s tempo quickens as she gets on her feet, but the captain doesn’t strike. She stares him down, eyes hidden behind strands of white hair.

“My name is Atsuko, a devoted researcher at the Royal Lab, and you may kill me if you think it just.”

Ok, now I know what you’re all thinking. You’re thinking “Kip! Why are you writing this official research paper like some drunken bar rant? How the hell are you gonna get noticed at this rate?” or “Kip! The hell are you thinking?? Sheikah destroying the Ancient Lab makes absolutely no sense?!”

So to that I say, firstly, uhhh you’re welcome for not being a boring posh, snobby lecturer.(Learned to value a personality over fancy words; lessons my granddad).

As for the latter, you are quite wrong my dear friend, quite wrong indeed. It makes an absolute butt-load of sense, and I’m gonna prove it was them, here and now! I mean that’s...kinda the whole point of an essay, yeah?

My fellow archeology, history, and tech lovers, not only do I know who is responsible for the Royal Lab’s destruction, but I know the true reason why and how! Let us start at the beginning!

What exactly is the lab, and what was its purpose? Well, as the name implies, it was a Sheikah-run laboratory under the hand of the royal family that researched and experimented with Ancient technology. Again, looking at references in HW AOC, I can place not only Guardian models and Ancient weaponry at the lab, but also the existence of blue flame lamps that seemingly powered the facility.

As we all know, it’s tough to mess around with Ancient parts without blue flame, which is the prime energy source for the Ancient Sheikah. Such are the existence of today’s Hateno and Akkala tech labs, located near blue flame furnaces. However! This brings into question exactly why the Royal Lab was constructed where it was…

There are only three places in all of Hyrule with natural blue flame deposits, or otherwise called “Ancient Furnaces.” That would be in Hateno, Akkala, and within Hyrule Castle itself. So why is the Royal Tech Lab so far from these Ancient Furnaces?

To answer this question, might I direct your attention towards explosions. That’s right folks, I’m talking bombs! (Please take this moment to imagine me creating an accompanying explosive sound effect with my mouth)

Some time ago, as I was analyzing the blue flame lamps in Deep Akkala, I ran into that hero of legend face to face! Nice guy, quiet and charming type. Smelled strangely like apples and burnt guts.

Long story short, I traded my entire supply of Hot-Footed Frogs and arrows for a chance to mess with his Sheikah Slate for a bit.

So during that brief period of research, I discovered that while Sheikah tech is usually well controlled—with bomb runes only going off on command by the push of a button—there is an exception! Bomb runes instantly react with blue flame, just one touch and they’ll instantly explode! Try it out yourself! Er, well. Ok, maybe not. Don’t do that, legally I’m not responsible. Plus, it’s not like any of you folk out there have access to bomb runes or a Sheikah Slate that you can play around and test it out for yourself like it’s some virtual game that you can switch around in your hands.

Bomb runes are giant bundles of compact Sheikah tech. When in contact with a pure blue flame, they go boom. The process with the Sheikah Slate must simplify this process with a remote button, but as I’ve discovered, the process can be hastened by chucking a torch around.

I call this phenomenon of blue flame reacting destructively with Sheikah technology a “blue combustion!” I’m creative, I know.

I imagine, any experimentation with weapons that harness, compress, or just generally mess with Sheikah tech and lasers, must be conducted in an environment that prevents blue combustion. You don’t want pure blue flame touching stuff. Otherwise you go kaboom.

Now I couldn’t get a hold of Dr. Robbie or Director Purah myself, something about how they “don’t know who the heck” I am, and “you’re trespassing please get off it’s private property,” or something of the sort, I’m not really sure. But even without their testimonies, you’ll notice that their large tech labs are constructed a distance away from the actual Ancient Furnace. They aren’t right beside it. If they were, you risk losing a limb to a blue combustion. That is also why blue flame lamps exist: to stagger the distance between the flames. And thus is why the Royal Lab isn’t nearby an Ancient Furnace.

Yet even so, the distance the Royal Lab has from an Ancient Furnace might still stump you, because even compared to the Akkala and Hateno labs, it is very very far. But here’s the kicker, my dear curious readers and poor editor, the reason for this extreme distance is because during its prime, the Royal Ancient Lab housed a large portion of the Guardian army and weaponry. It needed more distance because its contents accumulated a much larger space. I can prove this not only by descriptions shown in HW AOC, but also by notes/drawings shown in the archive called the Backgrounds of Technological Wonders, or BOTW for short.

Both these sources show that while Guardians were tested and stationed in Hyrule Castle, the number of Guardians at the castle was probably only in the one hundred mark or less. Now that may seem like a lot, but remember, hundreds of Guardians were dug up, as especially shown in the famous Sheikah tapestry of 10,000 years ago. Arguably even thousands, considering that tapestry is a simplification.

So if we can only account for only a portion of the Guardian population at Hyrule Castle, where are the rest? Scattered across different garrisons perhaps, sure. But they’d mainly be in the facility where each of the Guardians were constructed and given power, the place full of the most talented Sheikah researchers, a location that would still be in decent proximity, but still a safe distance from the castle should an emergency arise: the Royal Ancient Tech Lab. That’s where most of Guardians are.

Now, why is this important? Why did I just spend a few paragraphs talking about blue flames and Guardians and locations when this is about the lab’s destruction and demise?

It’s because this is my sure fire way to prove to you that the Calamity did not destroy the Royal Lab.

The Royal Ancient Lab was constructed specifically to create the best Guardians and technology to beat the Calamity with.

It would have been constructed specifically to avoid any fatal blue combustion accidents.

And it sure as hell wouldn’t have been purposefully destroyed by the Calamity, the one entity who would benefit from its existence.

The lab was decimated by a blue combustion, no question. There isn’t anything as powerful as it that could destroy a place so completely. And now knowing the factors surrounding the lab itself, we know that if it was destroyed by a combustion, it was not because of an accident.

It could only have been done purposefully, by the only people who would know the Royal Lab’s weaknesses.

It could only have been brought down by the Sheikah researchers.

So now, the questions of exactly how and why remain.

The captain just stands and ponders.

“Ma’am, I must confess that I don’t find the science of the destruction nearly as interesting as exactly what made you decide to do it.”

“It’s like I said,” Atsuko clutches her burned arm, “It wasn’t just me. Really, now, you’re too kind to give me so much credit.”

The spear end moves closer to her neck. “Alright alright alright, sorry, pal. Look I have no idea if you’re even believing all this right now, but you have to trust me that our actions were of the best intentions.”

The captain smirks. “Do tell?”

According to BOTW, the Ancient Arrow was developed by Dr. Robbie as one of the most powerful means of combating the Calamity itself. In fact, according to research I’ve found in that CAC book by Mint-en-do, I can place the exact time for the development of this weapon, which I can use to glean information about it’s properties.

Ancient Arrow

Perhaps forty or fifty years after the day of the Great Calamity Robbie, the lead Guardian researcher, created the first weapon that was effective against the mechanical monsters: the ancient arrow... Flames come out from the burner like bit [of the Ancient Arrow] and form a blade. [Page 388 and 178, Cr_ating a Champ___, Nint__do.]

The arrow instantly vaporizes whatever it comes into contact with, tearing apart the subject by the molecule, and sending them to non-existence. The description of the weapon implies that it is the pure energy of a blue flame, and built quite differently than other Sheikah weapons.

And the difference definitely shows. I’ve handled a few of these puppies myself, and let me tell you, they get the job done. While an Ancient sword or axe will certainly do some damage, a single Ancient Arrow can take out a Guardian, or even a Lynel in one hit. I heard that they could even do major damage to Dark Beast Ganon itself!

Now, why do I bring this up? Because this Ancient Arrow proves that the Sheikah 100 years ago knew about the dangers of blue combustion.

An Ancient Arrow is clearly the result of intensive research into blue combustion, it is literally a pure blue flame on a stick pumped up with some Ancient Tech. It vaporizes whatever matter it touches and it ceases to exist.

Hmm...would be a fine explanation as to why the nearly three stories worth of stone and ceiling in the Royal Lab no longer can be found.

And why wasn’t the Ancient Arrow developed sooner? It’s because no one thought to purposefully cause an event that would destroy everything until they were forced to on the actual day of the Calamity. It’s because it took even the most brilliant of scientists half a century to even contain a feat of destruction into a single arrowtip? Yes...when you lay out the facts like that, it seems to make sense on the timeline.

Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to the question of “why?” Let me rewind to an earlier point. Where are the thousands of Guardians in Hyrule?

Yes, a good hundred or so could be found in Hyrule Castle, and the majority were in the Royal Ancient Lab. But today, where are they? Records in BOTW cite only 157 Guardian remains in all of Hyrule. 157. How? That’s impossible. Witnesses and notes in HW AOC prove that much, much more existed. And what’s more is that we know that the majority of those Guardians were at the Royal Lab, but there are no Guardians, active or otherwise, to be found there. There is nothing.

It’s almost as if all those Guardians were vaporized, they ceased to exist one day.

And you know what.

They did.

(Please take this time to imagine me winking)

There’s some theme or metaphor here about the Royal Ancient Lab, constructed in the blues of the Royal family, ironically being destroyed by the blue combustion—but what do I look like, a writer? Find your own secret to life, here’s the blunt of it.

The Sheikah knew about the dangers a blue combustion could do, but on the day of the Calamity, they used that knowledge for the better. Seeing the corrupted Guardians in the distant castle, it is my belief that the researchers there purposefully brought the blue flames—that they had so carefully separated outside in the lanterns—in contact with Ancient Technology. Things not only went kaboom, but the actual matter ceased to exist. A giant Ancient Arrow.

Thousands of Guardians, hundreds of blades and weapons, and honestly, probably even lives, were gone in an instant. The only remains of the carnage would be the aftermath of blue flames that spread across the remains of the outer walls.

The Sheikah did this because it would save the most lives. That’s hundreds and thousands of Guardians and machines that wouldn’t fall into Ganon’s clutches, hundreds of souls saved. Did you know that today Hyrule Ridge, the home of the Royal Lab, has zero Guardians? Did you know that the lands near it, Hebra and Tabantha, have the lowest Guardian sightings in all of Hyrule? Even less than the Gerudo Desert. And I cite this all based on my hours of research and facts laid out by BOTW, HW AOC, and the divine work by Mr. Nin-ten-do

But even beyond that, how do I know, in absolute 600% certainty that the Sheikah were in complete control of this destruction? How am I so sure that the Sheikah that day had fully planned the intentional obliviation of their lab?

It’s because...I lied earlier.

There is actually one relic that survived. One little monument of the Royal Ancient Lab Ruins. One object giving physical proof of this theory.

One artifact that would have been impossible to preserve if the Sheikah hadn’t planned it all. I mentioned it briefly before, if you paid attention. Yes! This object is present in both the Royal Lab, and a tech lab of today. You could see it for yourself, if you pay a visit to my dad’s friend’s cousin’s neighbor’s grandma’s dog’s breeder’s Sheikah researcher pal...

“Dr. Robbie’s telescope.” Atsuko pointed to the scattered trees in upper Lindor, “Some other scientists took it up there to preserve it. It’s the only reason we were able to see the initial Guardian corrupting in the distant castle, and how we were able to adapt to the situation and act so quickly.”

The captain glanced at the western mountain. “So you were running up there to meet with them?”

“The wilderness is pretty safe at the moment. And we’re hoping eventually we could take the telescope to another lab where we could possibly continue research. I mean just today from the combustion, Dr. Robbie had this idea for some fancy Sheikah dagger to kill Guardians.”

Silence.

“OK listen, that’s...that’s all I’ve got. You can head up there and confirm the story, or just kill me now, take your pick. Waiting for judgement here.”

More silence. The rain falls harder.

“...I’m—”

“You can call me Cian.” The captain does a little bow. “Captain Cian Kippers, at your leisure.”

Atsuko raises an eyebrow. “Like the color—?”

“Sp-Spelled differently! There’s an “i” in there, and perhaps it’s ironic to the situation, but I figured if we’re gonna be traveling up there together you should have the courtesy of knowing my name.”

She just sputters for a moment. “So...you—”

“I trust your heart—I like to think I’m good with character—and I believe you’re a good person doing your best in the world. As unfortunate as circumstances may have been.” He twirls his spear before fitting it on his back. Cian extends a hand to her which she takes. “People like that are getting rarer by the hour, so I don’t think I should be adding to the death count.”

“So…” she gets on her feet, cocking her head, “You...you believe me then?”

He chuckles. “Well, I didn’t kill you did I?”

Atsuko laughs quietly. “Your mistake…”

“...No.” Cian places a reassuring hand on her shoulder and smiles, as if to say that somehow everything was gonna be alright.

“My intention.”

[shebeafancyflapjack]

Little Blue Eyes

A brief follow-up to this. Eleanor visits Michael during his reforming.

.

She had to hand it to Jason. If anyone had told her that it was possible to break a Janet out of Hell and get her away from an army of demons using just a Molotov, a single demon exploder gun, and a bag of weed, she’d have been very sceptical. But somehow he managed to bring their not-a-girl home, riding back in that hand-cart, grinning away as if he’d gone to a Jaguars game with her.

That was one problem dealt with. Now only a billion others to sort out.

As overjoyed as she’d been to see Janet back, safe and sound, she hadn’t been looking forward to reliving the most awful night of the year by explaining to her why their tall, dandy dressed demon wasn’t at her side, or hadn’t gone to save her.

It was easier to hand her the note that Michael had wrote (or possibly snapped into being after she slammed the door as she was sure even he couldn’t write that fast) before he’d pulled the trigger on himself.

I’m sorry.

I don’t want you to be worrying about how I might betray you or let you down again. If I’m locked up, you’re just going to worry that I’ve escaped. Just leave me in a tank on the other side of the map, or in Janet’s void if you bring her back, or just leave me in the Bad Place. If anything I just wanna ask that you make sure I’m all in there as I’d rather not come back shorter. Also if you can make sure no dogs are around to lap me up, I’d appreciate it.

I only ever wanted to save you all. I’m sorry I did nothing but screw up. I understand if you don’t want me back in the group after I’m back to normal. Please just get Janet back safe, even if it does mean going to the Judge. And give my best to Chidi when he wakes up.

I wasn’t lying about one thing; I really do love you all so much. I’m sorry it could never be enough.

Michael.

Reading the goo-stained letter with shaking hands, she’d struggled not to burst into tears of anger or throw up. Standing in the middle of the empty room, her friend dripping all around her, she’d wanted to scream at him for this being his best attempt to make things up to her - to forking leave her! To take the cowards way out. 

Being angry was so much easier than accepting the guilt of what she had said to him before that moment. Of questioning if she had gone too far...if she’d just taken a moment to listen to him...Usually the dude had trouble shutting the fork up but that night, all he’d done is stand there and take everything she threw at him...until there was nothing left standing. Literally.

If she’d had any idea he would do something so reckless and stupid then of course she would never have said...

But you did know. You knew exactly what he was prepared to do to help you, if it’s what you said you needed. What you wanted.

She never wanted this, she admits to herself, barely a couple months later.

Running this experiment basically single-handed was...not overly difficult. In fact, she was pretty confident in saying they were doing okay, considering the circumstances. 

But it still sucked. She was alone. Again.

Obviously there was no way she was going to have Michael’s goo abandoned in some random, isolated location. She was mad at the guy but she wasn’t a monster...so she told herself. At the same time, she couldn’t give up the role he’d thrusted upon her by suddenly taking up the role of nurse-maid, as hot as she might have looked in the uniform. He’d chosen to do this so she could work without distractions. Without a liability. 

“He sacrificed himself to save me. We’re on our own now. Let’s make it count.”

Just get the fork on with things, same as before. No point in looking back.

Tahani is the one who volunteers. She’s able to separate herself from the other humans without causing too much suspicion, claiming the need for a private getaway up in the hills, deep in the valley, a hidden fancy lodge by a stream, surrounded by peaceful deer and mountains. Definitely not Eleanor’s scene, anything involving the wilderness or even resembling camping.

By the time Eleanor sees her off on a private car Derek conjured up, Michael’s goo already reached its first form. The blind, helpless demon larva showed no signs of awareness of his surroundings, curling up as small as possible, malleable as Tahani swaddled him in her fluffiest blanket. Eleanor was almost impressed at how quickly the sexy giraffe had overcome being grossed out at the slimy, squidgy creature, able to look almost maternal as she carried him into the car. And she made sure to say as much.

Tahani’s heavy hearted response would stick with Eleanor for the next few weeks; “I didn’t reassure him when he asked us if we could ever be friends with a gross monster. Best I can do is show him how much we truly care.”

Ouch. Way to kick her in the girl-nads.

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ve helped out in multiple animal sanctuaries and used to fly out to work with deprived children with my dear friend Angelina...But this is definitely new territory for me.” She’d said as she looked over the larva demon, making the tiniest cooing noise in his sleep (or what they assumed was sleep). “I’ll try my best.”

That was all any of them could do. She’d contemplated attempting to speak to the larva Michael in her arms. What could she possibly say? Could he even understand her?

She was still angry. And yet it was difficult to connect the anger towards the one who abandoned her to the pathetic looking being in the blanket. Best to save all those harsh words on the tip of her tongue for when he was back to being tall and slappable. 

Is he really the one you want to slap?

The question comes back to haunt her more frequently each night that follows, whenever she thinks back on that night, or wonders how the two of them are doing. She and Tahani send letters often via the birds who are happy to act as messengers. They just have to be careful none of the humans intercept them. She lets her gorgeous friend know how the experiment is going and Tahani offers her tips on how to improve John, in particular. Every time she goes to write ‘how is Michael?’ she erases it, chest tightening. Tahani tells her anything important.

The slug monster form that follows the larva is a lot more challenging, she reports. He’s now the size of a Tibetan huskie and just as hungry.

I just let him roam the fields and eat what he can find. Sometimes I have to pull him in on a leash if he doesn’t tire himself out, otherwise I worry he’ll slither off in the night. I try to talk to him but he just grunts or roars at me until I tell him off. I was a little worried he might try to eat me but I found playing music - 80′s classics, mostly - calms him down and makes him rather docile. I don’t think he knows quite who I am or remembers anything. Perhaps it’s like when Janet is rebooted? He may need time to restore his memories, as she did.

Oh, darn, I must finish - he’s in the rose bush again!

Sometimes the image of her prim socialite friend trying to restrain a two-hundred-pound slug monster is so hilarious she can’t help but laugh. Other times she feels more guilt tugging at her soul to go lend a hand.

Is Michael really little more than an animal, in his head, right now? She’s hardly proved herself the best at pet care, though it sounded like Michael overeating was the least of their worries. It pained her to imagine what his head must be going through right now. Is he scared? Confused? Lost? Does he have any emotions other than the instinct to feed?

Does he still blame himself? Does he miss her as much as she...?

The more she sits in that chair in the office, the smaller she feels. It doesn’t belong to her; she’s merely filling it in while he’s gone. She has lunch in silence, remembering the jokes they used to share, the games of trying to aim food in the others mouth across the desk. She remembers him snapping a margarita for her when he knew she needed it most. She remembers his hand on her shoulder. She remembers him finding her at her lowest point, when everyone else had doubted her, turned their backs.

She remembers him, always there. And now she’s lost him.

Was wanting him gone over a stupid lie really worth all of this?

When Jason returns with Janet, on the same day she’s hesitating whether to jump on the nearest unicorn and head towards the mountains, she takes it as a sign. She has no excuse to stay away now - not with Janet back to watch over things, though she’ll probably be paying Michael a visit soon too.

She rides up on the train Janet conjures for her, saving her from trying to figure out how to ride a unicorn without breaking her neck. Something tells her she might have more luck at taming a slug monster than her British friend, not that she has any experience, just a few encounters with the grosser men in Arizona. Besides, it was Michael, at the end of the day. Their Michael.

The same Michael willing to sacrifice himself to help a bunch of cockroaches.

It’s such an idyllic landscape she arrives at. A total holiday card photo, without the snow. Nothing but grass and trees for miles before a backdrop of purple mountains. She looks around, seeing the evidence of devoured flower gardens and broken fences. At least the solid, oak cabin by the stream stood in tact, smoke billowing from the chimney. 

Eleanor is so focused on keeping her eyes peeled for a rampaging slug monster that she almost fails to spot the little person sat on the front step of the veranda.

She frowns. That has to be the whitest child she’s ever laid eyes on. Granted most kids growing up in Phoenix were smothered in fake tan before they were three by their moms, but this is something else. The kid has long white hair, half-plaited, down to the shoulders of the cream dress she’s wearing. Her skin is so pale it’s nearly translucent. Fork, is she looking at an actual ghost?

Wait...She’s a ghost. That really shouldn’t freak her out.

There’s just something so eerie about the little girl, from her sickly appearance to how weirdly quiet she is for...However old she is. Six? Seven? Thirteen? Eleanor really knows nothing about kids, just that they’re usually much louder than this one, sat alone, playing with a set of shining...

Oh.

“Michael?”

The kid looks away from the chain of a paperclips they were linking, gazing up at Eleanor on the gravel path. As soon as she sees their eyes, she has her answer. Even without a pair of glasses, she’d recognise those sparkling blue eyes anywhere. It’s only then that she remembers the third form.

Spooky little girl.

Though far less spooky than she imagined. More...sad.

Despite her surprise, she tries to smile, not knowing how badly she needed to see those eyes look at her again after this past month.

“Hey, buddy. How’re you feeling?” She starts to approach.

The kid drops the paperclips and jumps up to their feet, beginning to tremble terribly, eyes wide as saucers. 

Eleanor stops. Is he afraid? Of her?

“Michael? D’you remember me? It’s Eleanor, dude..”

“‘Hani!” The child cries turning and running inside the cabin. Fork, she knew was bad with kids, but shirt! Eleanor rushes in to follow, unable to hold back.

She enters the cosily furnished cabin to see the pale girl run up to the leg of the six foot beauty standing at the stove and cling to her skirt for dear life.

Tahani looks over from the pot of spaghetti, face fearful at first before lighting up when she spots her friend stood in the foyer.

“Eleanor! What a lovely surprise.” She beams, turning the stove off; “I’m so glad you decided to visit.”

“Wow...You’re kinda rocking the whole rustic single mom look here, babe.” Eleanor says, looking around the place, everything making her feel so warm and comforted from the open fireplace to the heavy air of recently baked bread. 

Tahani looks down to her charge hanging onto her dress, reaching down to pick the little fingers off carefully.

“Well, it was rather nice to have a project to myself, and Derek was surprisingly helpful. Everything else I acquired myself, having learned to survive in the wild from a well known ‘Bear’ friend of mine.” She holds the kid’s hands and bends down to their eye level; “Michael, sweetheart, look who’s come to visit. Remember Eleanor?”

The demon child whimpers, throwing their arms around Tahani’s neck and hiding in her luscious dark hair.

Eleanor bites her lip; “He’s a lot more shy than the slug monster, I take it.”

“Oh, I don’t understand. They were fine with Jason this morning, they were playing video games for hours - he and Janet teleported over briefly to check in on us. So glad they got back safe.”

So Jason gets a teleport but she takes the train? The first time she’s not an immortal being’s favorite to spoil.

Eleanor shuffles her feet, trying not to feel wounded at how terrified her friend currently is of her, when apparently there was no issue with Jason. But then, Jason makes it difficult for anyone to dislike him. Eleanor makes it an open invitation. 

The kid whispers something to Tahani that causes the woman to pick them up.

“Oh, darling, don’t be silly.” She responds, rubbing their back; “That was just a nightmare.”

“Nightmare?” Eleanor asks. Is she the stuff of nightmares?

Tahani eventually convinces the pale kid to go back outside to continue playing while she catches up with Eleanor.

Questions Tahani has about the experiment and the subjects get quickly brushed aside. Eleanor is unable to focus on anything but the image of Michael’s eyes looking at her with so much fear. When Tahani hands her a fresh cup of cofffee, she wants to stick her hand in it, just to scold herself for the sake of it.

“He’s having nightmares? I mean...she’s having...” Eleanor frowns.

“I find it easier to use ‘they/them’, which Michael seems to prefer as well, currently.” Tahani explains; “Most of the time, they’re a calm, affectionate child. Such a welcome change from the beast I was putting up with a fortnight ago, as much as they grew on me. It’s just at night, while their brain is still reforming and all these memories are flooding back...It can be rather distressing. Trust me, it’s heart-breaking just to see them crying and screaming...”

She can’t imagine that recalling centuries of brutally torturing innocents along with the knowledge of why that was wrong is easy for anyone, least of all in the form of a small girl, creepy or not.

“Honestly, the creepiest I’ve encountered so far is them levitating at the end of my bed - and that’s usually when they’re just looking for a cuddle.”

Eleanor smiles a little, Michael never was the best at being a truly ‘frightening’ demon.

“And I’m in these nightmares?”

Tahani sighs; “I suppose the memories of their last night are mixed up with everything else. They just...were worried you were here to say something mean or...you wanted them gone.”

Fork-sake. 

“I never wanted this, Tahani. I never wanted him to...Shirt, I didn’t even think he could, but...” She struggles to hold back tears; “I shouldn’t have come. I’ve just made him...Them more upset. Fork knows what I’d be in for if I stayed for the Teenage Boy phase. He’d probably set my hair on fire as payback.”

Bratty Michael in his fully grown form had been enough to handle. A hormonal one with amnesia was a whole other level.

“Eleanor. Just go talk to them.” Tahani presses; “This whole distancing thing you two are doing to deal with your falling out is dangerous. You’re not going to fix anything by staying away from them. As I kept telling my good friend Courtney when she had a row with my other friends, Lisa and Jennifer - you just need to communicate!”

“Babe, they’re afraid to even be alone with me.” She’s the monster under the bed now. All because she took one sin he committed to heart and forgot about all the good he’d done for her that outweighed it.

“Then stay, there’s plenty of room. Even if it means we swap and you stay here and I return to help with the experiment. Either way, this needs to be sorted out. I don’t believe demons are supposed to be this upset during their growth...You could help with that.”

Can she? She’s not the nurturing type, like her hot friend. She melted her own doll in the microwave as a kid. And she unwittingly talked her own demon bestie into exploding himself.

Tahani’s hand squeezing her wrist gives her some strength. 

“...Okay. I’ll try.” she meets her eyes; “Is Michael the only one allowed to snuggle in bed with you when they’re scared?”

Ten minutes later, she goes to find the creepy girl outside, this time sat among the flowers, being far more gentle with them than her previous slug form was. 

Eleanor approaches slowly.

“Michael? Buddy?”

The kid gasps, standing up again and flinching back. Eleanor raises her palm.

“Please don’t run away. I promise I won’t hurt you...and I won’t be mad.” She says, soft as she can manage, getting down to the ground; “And I’m not gonna make you go away anywhere. I just wanna chat...That ok?”

Michael doesn’t look too convinced, glancing over at the cabin. Looking for the one constant they’ve had, who’s been here for them, caring for them. Where Eleanor should have been, at least sometimes.

Okay. Time for the trump card.

“I got you something. Tahani said you have trouble sleeping. I thought maybe this guy could help?” She produces the minion toy from behind her back.

Michael’s eyes sparkle and he instantly reaches out to take it.

“So ugly!” They cheer, hugging it to their front.

Eleanor chuckles. Still so easily impressed.

“Can’t argue there...Also, I picked up those paperclips of yours. Did you know you can do this with them?” She holds up the chain; “Gimmie your wrist a minute.”

Michael frowns, hiding behind the toy a little.

“I won’t bite, dude. Kids are way too gross to eat. You’re too stringy and bony.” She wrinkles her nose.

They blink at her before slowly holding out their wrist. Eleanor takes the paperclips and links them around Michael’s arm, forming a bracelet.

The child gasps, clearly thinking they’ve seen it for the first time; “Holy motherforking shirtballs.”

“Damn, you kiss Tahani with that mouth?” That must have been another residue memory tucked away.

Michael sneers; “Kissing is gross.”

“It’s pretty weird if you think about it, yeah.” She concedes, glad they’re at least talking, as much conversation as she can have with a billion year old immortal that’s lost their mind as they regrow in the body of a haunting little girl; “...What about hugs? You like them, right?”

The kid nods, eagerly.

“...Maybe I could have one, someday? If we can be friends? I’d like that...” More than they could know right now. More than anything else, even having Chidi remember her. This...This is just as painful, because she can’t be sure if this is fixable. 

Eleanor crosses her legs as she sits, facing her friend.

“I’m so sorry, Michael. I know...you don’t understand that right now but...I’m sorry for why you’re scared of me...I wouldn’t ever wanna hurt you. Please believe me.”

Trust me? God, she’s such a hypocrite. 

The kid eyes her, up and down, before turning to the flowers. They bend down, picking a few up into a small bouquet of daisies. Michael turns and hands it out to her.

“Oh...Uhh....Thanks...” Eleanor reaches for them.

Michael’s blue eyes flash red. The flowers burst into flames.

“Forking shirt!” Eleanor jumps.

And still the kid holds them out; “Pretty, right?”

A heartfelt laugh tumbles out of her; “...I can tell Jason’s been here.” Or maybe that was part of her friend’s demon nature. Either way, it was adorable. “Thank you, Michael.” she says, taking the flaming daisies. “You know...if you want, I could show you how to make chains out of these? We could make a crown for Tahani?”

“And ones for me and you?” Michael asks, hopeful.

Eleanor’s lip quivers, a sudden lump in her throat. She reaches out to run her palm over her friend’s white hair, soft as it’s always been; “Yeah...Me and you too, bud.”

[kaitoujokerscans]

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH7

<7> Joker Breaks In!

Around the same time, another phantom thief — Joker — was hard at work on another caper. This particular caper was...

"Huuuh? A... recipe?" Hachi asked as a stiff breeze blew against his face. Joker, similarly buffeted by the wind, forced a smile as he answered.

"Yep, exactly! Sounds interesting, doesn't it?"

"But that's not important right nooooooooooooow!" Hachi said, screaming. They were falling rapidly. They were in the sky, several thousand meters above the ground. It was cold, and the air was extremely thin. Furthermore, the two of them were freefalling without any open parachutes. It was enough to make him envious of Hosshi, who was staying at home today. "W-What are we s-supposed to do here!?"

"We'll be fine. We've got this." Joker pointed out the thin layer of fabric between the arms and torso on the bodysuits they were wearing. "This is called a wingsuit. It's used to glide through the sky. We can land at our destination without attracting attention this way."

What Joker said reached Hachi's ears over the radio. But it was pitch black all around them, and the only things he could see were the city lights twinkling far below. The sheer terror got the better of him and he could hardly think straight. It was a far cry from how they usually flew with Balloon Gum. All Hachi knew at the moment was that they were headed somewhere Joker had sent an advance notice to.

"What's this recipe supposed to beeeeeee!?" Hachi yelled. Joker answered as he normally would.

"Hachi, you've heard of the soft drink called 'Riviera', yeah?"

"I-I know about it, but...!"

"The recipe for it is one of the world's best-kept secrets, and it's only known to a handful of people!"

"I-Is that so?"

Joker and Spade both love Riviera, the drink of choice enjoyed all over the world. It's served in restaurants everywhere and can be found in any vending machine. It tastes like a mix of sweet syrup and tangy tonic. It's excellent for chugging, and Hachi likes to drink it on occasion himself.

Hachi was quite the cook himself, but true enough, he had no idea what made Riviera taste like that.

"After all, if the recipe got out and suddenly anyone was able to make it, they wouldn't be able to sell their drinks, right? So only the top members of the company that makes Riviera know the ingredients and their ratios."

"T-That makes sense...!"

"Word is that the secret recipe is kept at the company's innermost level, strictly guarded in a safe."

"Joker-san, don't tell me the reason why you're trying to steal the recipe is because you just want to drink a limitless supply of Riviera?"

"Heh heh, it's a secret♪"

"That doesn't tell me anything!"

The duo continued to drop rapidly. Hachi took a glimpse down and saw right below — well, probably still a few hundred meters away — the lights from houses and tail lamps of cars driving on the road. The color drained from his face.

"All right, it's about time for us to start gliding. Spread your wings!"

"Okaaaaaaaay!"

Joker and Hachi unzipped their wings. While they were still falling at the same speed, suddenly they were zooming at an angle. It was like they were slipping down a playground slide. Their untethered bodies skimmed through the air like gliders, and a blast of wind hit Joker and Hachi's faces from the front this time.

"I see it! Over there!"

A large building blurred into sight. It was conspicuously distinct from the other structures around it. The whole building was curvilinear and shaped like a bottle. A bottle of Riviera, in fact. It was already nighttime, so there were no lights streaming out of the windows.

"We're gonna land on the bottlecap!"

Joker made it sound easy, but from where they were, it would've been like placing a speck of dust on the tip of a toothpick. If they weren't attentive and precise about it, they'd fall headlong into the ground instead. Even so, Joker didn't drop speed. Confidently, he plunged straight toward the Riviera bottlecap.

Joker had the courage to dive right into things without hesitation. Hachi admired that. It used to be that Hachi thought about every possible consequence and would often end up not doing anything at all because he was afraid of failing. But Joker typically took action as soon as he came up with a plan. He had once asked Joker about it before.

"Joker-san, how are you so brave?"

"Well, you never know what'll happen until you try, yeah?"

"But isn't that even scarier if you don't know how it'll turn out?"

"It's the other way around. There's only so much in the world that people can imagine. Most of what actually happens is stuff you never would have expected. So don't you think it's better to just do it?"

"You might have a point..."

"Master once told me that 'knowledge can't beat experience'. Which means that right now, I'm no match for Master. But if you flip your thinking, that means that if I get all kinds of experience, one day I'll be able to win against Master. If I'm too scared to try anything, I'll never be able to beat him," Joker said with a smile, and started writing the advance notice for his next target.

When he heard the reason why Joker had so much motivation and the things Silver Heart had taught him, Hachi felt like he understood. It was exactly because Joker didn't know what was going to happen next that he was always able to act immediately.

"Okay, we're almost there, Hachi!"

Joker's yell brought Hachi back to the present. The Riviera bottlecap roof was coming up to meet him. The rooftop seemed to function as a small heliport.

"Drop your speed on the count of one-two-three!"

"Roger!" Hachi acknowledged and gripped the cord on the side of the wing. He had been told that when he pulled it, he would slow down.

"All right, on your mark! One..."

Hachi tightened his grip on the cord and adjusted his timing.

"Two..."

Hachi was ready to pull on "three", but then Joker said:

"...and..."

"WHAT!? 'And'!?" In his surprise, Hachi pulled the cord on instinct. A tailored parachute billowed out and he slowed down dramatically. At that speed, he was going to drop down before he made it over the bottlecap.

"Oh shoot! Hachi!" Joker pulled his cord. Losing speed, he changed orientation so that he was now facing Hachi. He caught him in both arms.

"Joker-san!"

"We'll be fine! We should be able to make it, just barely!"

But Joker was just saying that to calm him down. The duo stalled in the air as they were almost to the bottlecap roof. Just out of reach, they slowly dropped down. Without anything supporting his weight, a chill ran down his spine.

"Agh, and we were so close, too~" Joker commented laxly. "That's the end of that. My Balloon Gum's in a pocket underneath my wingsuit..."

"Whaaaat!? Please, that's not funny!" Hachi exclaimed. He promptly pulled one of his ninja tools, a grappling hook, out of his pocket and tossed it up. The hook caught on the rooftop fence with a clank and the two of them stopped in midair.

"Whoa! Thanks, Hachi!"

The two of them climbed up the rope and finally made it onto the rooftop.

"What was that about!? You said to pull the cord on the count of one-two-three! What was 'one-two-and' supposed to be!? You didn't tell me there would be an 'and'!"

"Ha ha ha, it just looked like the timing wouldn't match up. But we had a pretty exciting experience thanks to that, don't you think?"

"That was an experience I didn't need to have!" Hachi exclaimed, squirming. It was important to do all sorts of things and gain experience. But there were some things that he really didn't need to experience. Hachi was sure of that now.

The duo ran silently over the empty rooftop and crouched down close to the entrance. Since Riviera HQ was home to the secret recipe, security was always strict. It didn't even overlook anyone coming from the sky. Flying in slowly would take too much time and was more likely to trigger the defense system. That was why Joker had opted for this method to get in rather than using Balloon Gum.

"Though it's strange that there aren't any security guards on the roof."

"Yeah, it might be a trap to lure us in. Sounds like fun. I'll take the bait."

Joker unlocked the door, entered, and quietly stepped into a dark stairwell. He took a look at the map on his phone and pulled up the route info. "The recipe is in the safe on the top level. Usually nobody goes on this floor. There are three obstacles standing between us and the safe."

"Three obstacles?"

Joker approached the door to the top floor. "The president of this company is a bit eccentric. The defense system's set up so that the safe won't open unless you solve three puzzles. If you can figure out the answer, then you can move on."

"Puzzles?"

"Yeah. So the obstacles are like a test for anyone who wants to open the safe," Joker said, and opened the door leading into the top floor. A long, dim corridor lay ahead. Joker and Hachi put on goggles that let them see infrared sensors and wriggled their way along. Soon enough, they reached a large door.

"All right, this is the first obstacle." Joker turned his gaze up to where a huge sign with a puzzle written on it was hanging on the door.

 [Question]

8            1            6

1            5            9

8            3            4

"Enter the number equal to the eight."

 There was a numerical keypad underneath the sign. They were probably supposed to input the correct number with it.

"So this is the puzzle..." Hachi looked at the numbers and tilted his head. "I wonder why these numbers are in such a random order? And it says 'equal to the eight', but there are nine numbers in all, so I don't get what it means by 'equal to'."

"You don't? The numbers aren't exactly random, either." Joker looked at the numbers and smiled a little.

"Joker-san, you figured it out already?"

"Of course I did."

 What does "equal to the eight" mean? Let's all think about it with Hachi!

Hint: Try adding the nine numbers up horizontally, vertically, and diagonally!

The correct answer is coming right up!

 "Hmm~ I don't get it at all!" Hachi put up his hands in resignation. He had given up.

"Yeesh, fine. This number arrangement is called a 'magic square'."

"A magic square?"

"Look closer. If you add up the three numbers in a horizontal, vertical, or diagonal line, they all come to the same sum."

"Huh? They do?" Hachi looked up and tried adding up the lines. 6+7+2=15, 8+1+6=15, 6+5+4=15... whichever direction he added them up in, they always came to the same total. "You're right! That's weird!"

"This magic square has 3 horizontals, 3 verticals, and 2 diagonals, which makes for 8 sums in all, right? Since they're all the same number..."

"Oh, I get it! 'Equal to the eight' is asking for the sum of the numbers, which is 15!"

"Right on!" Joker punched "15" into the keypad. The door unlocked with a clang. "Okay, let's go deeper in!"

Once they went through, the door closed behind them, and they came before the next door. There was another puzzle on this one. This was the second obstacle. The following was written on the sign.

 [Question]

Assume:

0 > 2

2 > 5

5 > 0

Given {2, 5, 5}, which one wins?

 Just like before, there was a numerical keypad underneath the sign.

"I don't get this one at all either..."

"It doesn't look like these arrow-like marks are supposed to mean that the left number is bigger. If they did, the first two expressions wouldn't be possible."

"That's true..."

"It asks 'which one wins', so maybe this mark just means that the number on the left is 'stronger'."

"Can a number be 'strong'?"

"Maybe these aren't numbers in the first place. Maybe they represent something else." Realizing something, Joker stroked his chin.

 Which one wins? Let's all think about it with Hachi!

Hint: Try counting on your fingers and see what it looks like.

The correct answer is coming right up!

 Hachi folded his arms, tilted his head, and stared at the question. It looked like he still didn't have a clue, so Joker gave him a friendly suggestion.

"Hachi, if you don't know, try counting on your fingers."

"On my fingers?"

"Yeah. Use your fingers to visualize the numbers. Try doing it with both hands, starting with the first expression."

After being told this, Hachi tried counting with his fingers. For 0, he balled up his fist into a rock-like shape, and for 2, he stuck out two fingers, forming scissors.

Wait. Rock... and scissors...?

"AAAAAAAH!" Hachi exclaimed. "I've got it, Joker-san! These numbers represent rock-paper-scissors!"

"Exactly. Now you know." Joker flashed a scissors sign.

"Yes! The numbers are the number of fingers sticking out. So 0 is rock, 2 is scissors, and 5 is paper."

"That's right. 0 wins against 2 because rock beats scissors. Likewise, when you have 3 against 5 — scissors and paper — scissors wins. And lastly, when you have 5 and 0..."

"5, which is paper, wins!"

"You see? Which brings us to the question written below. When you have 2 and 5 and 5..."

"It's scissors against paper and paper, so scissors wins! Which means 2 is the right answer!"

"Right on!" Joker said and punched "2" into the keypad. The door slowly opened. At the end of the hallway, they saw a massive door.

"Oh, that must be where the safe for the recipe is!"

"Yep. In order to get there, we'll have to clear the final obstacle."

The door leading to the safe was stout and didn't look like it could be broken through easily. This one, like the others, had a sign hanging from it with one last puzzle.

 [Question]

5            2            2            2

0            5            0            5

0            2            2            2

0            5            0            5

Push the button for the number that doesn't lose.

 Unlike the previous ones, there were buttons on the sign itself this time. This meant that one of the above numbers was correct, and when it was pressed, the door would open.

Hachi took a look at the numbers and tilted his head yet again. "Is this... rock-paper-scissors again?"

"Yep. It's only 0 and 2 and 5, just like before, so we can probably assume that's the case..."

"But I don't really understand this arrangement or what 'doesn't lose' means..."

"Hmm, maybe it's like the magic square we first encountered...?" Joker studied the numbers closely and brainstormed.

 Exactly which number is the one that "doesn't lose"?

Think about it in terms of both the "magic square" and "rock-paper-scissors" you saw before! Hint: you don't have to add up the numbers this time. Just think about it horizontally, vertically, and diagonally!

The correct answer is in the next chapter!

While Joker and Hachi were racking their brains over puzzles, Queen, Roko, and Purple were having tea at a late-night cafe. The train had arrived in town without further incident and they had the secret file in hand. Purple had some spare time before she had to turn the file over to an ally, so now she was going to talk about Noir over tea.

The three sat facing each other in the back corner of a small cafe. Purple leisurely began to speak. "Silver and Noir are complete opposites."

"Opposites?" Queen asked, taking a sip of her honey latte.

"You already know that Silver is a man as lively and bright as the sun. Everyone takes a liking to him. His roguish personality just captivates people. He has luck and natural ability. All of this made him an extremely talented spy. On the other hand, while Noir is also talented, he has to put in effort. He gathers all the intel he can before a mission, analyzes it with a cool head, and executes his plans without a single hitch. Noir goes in thoroughly prepared — that's his style. Noir stayed active even after Silver quit being a spy, and some people even call him the 'legendary spy' now..." Purple dunked a cookie in her black coffee and munched it. "But Noir has a grudge against Silver."

"Huh? Why?" Queen asked, confused. If they had gotten along as spies, there was no reason for him to hate the phantom thief Silver Heart.

"Well. Once Silver became a phantom thief, he started to get a lot flashier. He had always been a daredevil with an affinity for showing off. As ostentatious as his capers were, there were more than a few occasions where he failed spectacularly. Noir got tangled up in those spectacles quite often."

"Noir was involved with Grandpa's work?"

"It'd be more accurate to say that Silver always barged in when Noir was on covert infiltration missions and made a mess of everything."

"What...?" Queen and Roko's faces clouded over.

"The success of our spy operations hinges most of all on not being spotted. We infiltrate without alerting the enemy, do our work, and leave without attracting attention. The longer it takes them to notice that they've been breached, the more likely it is that the operation will be a success. In that sense, as soon as there's any uproar, the operation is a failure."

"Sounds like unforgiving work..."

"I can see why a spy wouldn't want their presence to be known, though," nodded Roko understandingly.

"Right. That's why Noir carries out his missions in secret, never letting anyone know he's there. But Silver Heart was completely different."

"Ah..." Queen realized something. "I get it. A phantom thief sneaks in, but not without anyone's knowledge. They send advance notice."

"Precisely. Phantom thieves boldly proclaim that they're breaking in, reveal themselves when everybody's looking, and steal the treasure dramatically while they're all in shock. Isn't that what Silver always says? He was always a showoff, so that suits him," said Purple. She exhaled and gave a shrug. "Besides, Silver tended to go after the treasure of money-grubbing crooks. Noir would receive a directive, plan everything down to the finest detail, and then once he got there, advance notice from Silver came in. What do you think would happen then?"

"The enemy would be on alert, and it'd make espionage that much harder..."

"That's exactly it. Silver was probably using the same network he had used as a spy to locate treasure. Silver threw a wrench in Noir's work on more occasions than he could count."

"That many times...?" Queen was surprised. Now she understood why Noir would be angry. But wouldn't Silver Heart have realized...? When she asked about it, Purple shook her head.

"...Unfortunately, Silver Heart is clueless about the whole thing. That's his greatest fault. Silver had no way of knowing that Noir was at work behind the scenes. Noir couldn't afford to have his mission be compromised, so he couldn't even say he was there. He had to give up, knowing that his mission had failed because of Silver..."

"So that's the story..." Now that she knew Noir's circumstances, Queen sympathized with him a little. Silver Heart's capers were indeed grandiose affairs and would definitely have interfered with any espionage going on. And since the man himself was completely oblivious and stole without a care in the world, she could understand why that behavior would incur wrath.

"I feel sorry for Noir..." Queen murmured. Purple snorted.

"Well, if you ask me, Noir's at fault too. Of course it'd annoy me to have someone get in the way of my job. But a real spy works around it. If a phantom thief appears and you take advantage of the confusion to accomplish your goals, you might be able to have an easier time of it. He could have even set it up to make his deeds look like Silver's handiwork. Noir just didn't exert himself."

"Oh, I see..."

"You've got high standards, Purple-san."

The pair voiced their respect for her.

"Oh, also, Grandpa is going after a treasure called the Lachla Crown. Apparently it's something he and Noir were looking for back when he was a spy..."

"The Lachla Crown? That explains it. You could say it ties Silver and Noir together."

"What do you mean?"

"Silver fell asleep, and because of that, the two of them weren't able to locate the hidden treasure. I remember Noir was really infuriated about it."

"Then when Noir learned that Grandpa was going after the Lachla Crown..."

"He quit being a spy and took matters into his own hands, it seems..."

"Huh? Noir quit his job?"

"Yes, just recently."

"Oh..." Queen pondered this. If Silver Heart targeting the Lachla Crown really had prompted him to quit being a spy...

Making up her mind, Queen stood up. Purple spoke to her.

"You're going? In that case..." Purple handed her a slip of paper. "Noir has been frequenting this place since he quit his job. I already looked into it."

"Thank you, Grandma." Queen took the note with gratitude.

"Don't mention it. Anyway, Queen, you were quite sensible back there. Would you be interested in doing some spy training under me?"

Then Queen answered with a little smile. "Thank you. It's not a bad offer, but I'll never be cold-blooded enough to be a spy."

"Ha ha ha, you really are Silver's disciple. And you're headstrong to boot. Just like me when I was younger."

Roko paled for a moment at this, but Purple gave a wink and smiled.

"Hee hee, thank you. Until next time, Purple-san!" Queen said. Then she and Roko ran off like the wind.

Several hours after their conversation...

Silver Heart was at a chic open-terrace cafe in Paris. The aroma of his espresso lifted his spirits. He took a hand mirror out of his pocket and fixed his appearance.

"Heheh. Hello, good-looking..." He couldn't stop grinning. Silver Heart was about to meet up with Her Majesty, the Queen of the Kingdom of Pandora for a date. She was busy with her official duties, but had a sliver of time available. The two of them had planned to take that opportunity to go on an incognito date. Her Majesty was going to escape the castle using Balloon Gum that Silver Heart had given her.

Just the words "incognito date" made Silver Heart giddy. "Heh heh heh, just like in Roman Holiday." Dropping the title of a vintage film in which a princess snuck out of her palace all alone and got to briefly enjoy the city of Rome, Silver Heart's already mellow expression melted entirely. If Queen saw how he looked now, she would probably slump down in disappointment.

But just then, his melted face hardened back up.

"..." Silver Heart's eyes were drawn to the coaster in front of him. He could see a small "N" written in the corner of the coaster.

This is... It was a familiar sign. It was how spies sent each other secret messages...

Silver Heart's mind flashed back to decades ago. He flipped over the coaster to see familiar letters that he had read often in the past.

 To my sworn enemy, Silver.

To have it out with you once and for all, I have crept out of the world of darkness.

I will steal your treasure.

 P.S. Your girlfriend isn't coming. She should be in the custody of the castle guards by now.

 "..."

Silver put the coaster down and took a breath. So Noir really does hate me... The sudden cancellation of his date with Her Majesty was a shock in and of itself, but not knowing the reason for this grudge left Silver feeling ill at ease.

What's the matter with him...? Silver Heart took another sip of his espresso, just as he heard a screeching voice come from the TV set up outside the cafe.

"This is your host, DJ Peacock! We've just received an advance notice from Phantom Thief Noir!"

"What...!?" Surprised, Silver Heart listened closely.

"I'll read Phantom Thief Noir's notice out loud. —Tonight, I'll steal the 'Lachla Crown' which Phantom Thief Silver Heart has targeted from the passenger ship Urban of the Sea. Phantom Thief Noir. —That's all! This is sure to be a heart-pounding and stimulating develop..."

Not even listening to the report till the end, Silver Heart got up. "..."

As Silver Heart faded into the bustle of Paris, he no longer had the same look in his eyes as when he was waiting for his date. His eyes were quietly ablaze, in a manner befitting the legendary phantom thief.

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

How about 1. (Guess I’m a Parent Now) with Logan as the parent and a side of your choice as his newly adopted person for the random prompt fics :)

Title: Rest Your Head Close to My Heart

Summary: In a world where humans are the practically extinct ones and dragons freely roam and rule the skies, Logan is a young draconic adult in search of a human to decipher the knowledge lying within the books of his hoard. He just didn’t expect to find a crying human hatchling by itself all alone.

Pairings: Parental logicality

Word-Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Crying, Language Barrier, Death Mention, Blood Mention, Hurt/Comfort

Heh, this could easily be applied to the most recent fic I posted, but this sparked another idea which nearly ran away from me in the process.

-

Once upon a time, there were humans. They were small, squishy beings. Not equipped with spikes or thick-plated scales to protect them from harm. Oh, but they were magnificent, fearsome beings. In the midst of their biological shortcomings, they had intelligence that rivaled even the smartest of dragons, living or dead. They crafted their own spikes and armor out of rock. They were very good at making all sorts of things in fact. Good enough that dragons from across the lands coveted their things.

 At first, it was peaceful between both dragonkin and mankind. The dragons would trade the humans materials in exchange for their craft. But then, a war broke out. And in the billowing, heaving smoke and ash that resulted, the humans vanished completely from the world. As far as all dragonkin knew, not a single human sighting has been reported in half a millennium.

Logan thought this to be a great shame. His hatching had taken place one-hundred and seventy-nine years after the war’s end--far too late to have personally seen a human. Several elders in his clan had.

“They were dangerous, conniving vermin,” A Clan Elder scoffed, “as wondrous as their things were, it’s better they stay gone.”

Perhaps this was true, but Logan couldn’t help the ineffable curiosity that ignited his inner flame so. Humans were the creators of the things he found worthy of coveting. 

Things like rocks molded into impressions of humans, beasts and forestry. Furs and skins humans took from others and remade to fit over their own like shells. His favorite were the things called books. Rectangular objects filled with leafy material that contained black markings on them. Knowledge was stored on them, though no dragon alive could decipher its meaning.

Knowledge was what Logan coveted most. He wasn’t likely to give up easily unless another could offer something of equal or greater value for it. Knowledge rarely manifested in physical objects, thus making his hoard easily transportable. This was good, because Logan traveled aplenty in his years following maturity.

He wanted to find a human. He needed to know what his books contained and only humans held the key to the knowledge he was so close yet so far to absorbing into his hoard. Humans had to be out there somewhere. And he was determined to be the first dragon in half a millennium to see one.

He just did not expect it to be a hatchling. Or what he presumed to be a hatchling because while humans were small, this one was very much small. Only just the size of a newly hatched whereas adults were described to be three times that. And wailing. It had to be wailing, a high-pitched cry for a caretaker not present.

Logan stared at the hatchling for a long while, hidden away from its view. It’s golden floppy not-quite fur hung over its head. It strangely did not cover the rest of it’s body. Just the head. It wore a blue-and-grey covering over its skin. Its’ strange talon-less forepaws covered its head as it shook. All curled up like a hatchling trying to disguise itself like a rock. Poorly, he might add with the aforementioned shaking and wailing.

He did not know what to do. He was never one to take care of hatchlings even back when he lived with his clan. He did not covet them like his hatchmate had. He also did not dislike them. He felt very neutral towards them. But this was a human hatchling--a being that had not been sighted in so, so long. Perhaps this hatchling still knew the knowledge that laid within his books.

So very cautiously and very, very silently, he coiled himself around the human hatchling. He did not want to spook it away, as he heard tales of humans being fast when fleeing perceived danger and able to wiggle themselves into spots full-grown dragons like himself couldn’t reach. Then he let out a soothing warble, one his parents used whenever Logan or his hatchmate had a nightmare. This quieted the human hatchling. Not because it was consoled by the action; startled would be the better word for it.

The human hatchling lifted its head upwards, limbs folding away from its body in the process. It was then Logan saw it. Dark red stains soiling its skin covering. Logan leaned his head towards the hatchling to inspect it closer. His inner flame trembled at the tinge of copper that wafted into his nose. Humans’ blood was not like dragons. It didn’t glow the color of a dragon’s inner flame, boiling to the touch. Their blood was known for a bright red color that turned brown in time and its coppery scent.

The hatchling had to be injured. No wonder it was crying. Only, that in and of itself presented another complexing problem; he did not know how to care for injured humans. The knowledge out there about humans was very bare on the subject. He knew a plethora of ways to harm a human. But not a single one on how to go about caring for an injured one.

He did not have much time to ponder this. For the human did something unexplained. It latched its cold, soft forepaws to his snout. Logan’s neck frills flared out in surprise but he did not move. An incomprehensible gurgle emanated from the human hatchling. A puff of smoke exited his nostrils, intriguing the human hatchling further. It stuck a forepaw closer to the opening, as if trying to discern what caused it.

Carefully, he eased his snout away from the human hatchling. This seemed to upset the hatchling, making a distressed noise as it reached upwards for him. He hesitated, dropping his head back downwards. Instantly the human hatchling latched on, running its cold forepaws against his scales. The human hatchling’s blue eyes widened as it made an inquisitive sound.

“Curious, aren’t you?” Logan rumbled, keeping his maw closed as much as possible. The human hatchling stilled for a second. Then it squealed back in its own language, its forepaws resting on the ridge of his snout. He hadn’t quite realized that of course, if dragons hadn’t seen humans in centuries, the same in reverse had to be true for humans. Not until now, with a living human hatchling touching his scales with the same reverence he held for a book or another thing touched by humans.

“I know you can’t possibly understand me, but are you injured? There’s blood on you and unless I’ve been misinformed, that generally remains inside of humans just like it does for dragons. Also, I wonder, where are your parents? Surely humans are just as protective of their young as dragons and other species.”

The human hatchling predictably did not understand him. Or if it did, it could only respond in the lilted, melodic odd noises that made up human speech. It was fascinating to hear even if Logan couldn’t understand it. None of the stories talked about human languages and what they sounded like. It was something lost to dragonkin after the war.

The human hatchling chattered on and on as it stroked his scales. At first it started out bright and happy-sounding. But then an odd choking noise came from the human hatchling. This alarmed Logan who presumed it was a sign of the human hatchling’s injury. It alarmed him further as it continued as the human hatchling attempted to speak through it, its chatter stilted and stifled.

He pressed his snout closer to the human to reassure it. And this time, unlike before, it seemed to work. For the human flung its forelegs very clumsily around his snout. It couldn’t possibly envelope him. It tried its best though as the choking noise continued intermingled with the first cries of before.

It was then that Logan realized something. There was human blood on the human hatchling, yes, but it wasn’t their own. It belonged to a different human with a different scent. A scent nearly identical to the human hatchling but not their own. Most likely their parent’s. And if the human hatchling had been all alone, crying, with its’ parent’s blood on them...well.

A strange feeling stirred in Logan’s inner flame. As much as he previously sought after humans and their knowledge of books, all of that paled considerably to this new feeling. It wasn’t exactly a new urge to covet something but it was quite similar. It was a “Oh dear Agni, I presume that I’m a father now” feeling.

He hardly knew how to care for hatchlings, much less human ones. But this didn’t matter, for the human hatchling chose him and denying a rite of parentage would be grievous. He would care for the human hatchling to the best of his ability. Above all else, he’d see that the human hatchling would never meet the same fate as their bloodparent. 

“There, there,” He awkwardly crooned, easing gently the human hatchling underneath the protection of his wing, “for as long as I can fly swiftly and breathe fire fiercely, you will be safe.”

And while the human hatchling couldn’t possibly understand him, he almost believed they could as they clung tightly to him, their sobs dissipating at last into a few final quivering hiccups.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Crew of the Omen.”

A little bit from the other new alien species aboard the ship, as requested. I hope you like it :) 

Tesraki

The Tesraki had all worked with humans before, but when they mean they had worked with humans, it was more like they had been around in the area where humans were working and mostly tried to stay out of their way. Between the two younger Tesraki Captio and Subit, they talked a lot about how the soldier Tesraki,  Etium had been involved in the Drev war..

They weren’t entirely sure if that was true or not seeing as there were very few Tesraki who had actually survived an encounter with the Drev, but the chunk missing from his ear, and the way he seemed to show so much deference to the humans when they first stepped aboard the ship.

Than and he didn’t seem as afraid of them as the two younger Tesraki were.

And there was a lot to be afraid of

Stepping aboard the human ship, it became very clear that they were entering a different world.

They huddled together behind Etium, their ears drawn back to their heads, their tails tucked together as they stood before the massive room watching as large machines and hovering trucks rolled by. The human voices were raised, yelling up over each other in their guttural chattering call. They had been on the ship before of course, but this would be the first time the doors would be shut behind them.

A group of humans stepped past them, their large armored feet clattering against the ground, their bodies moving like lithe snakes.

There was a lot of money being moved here, and a lot of money being moved very poorly, though none of them were quite sure how to bring that up.

“New meat!”

They turned on the spot to see a human sitting cross legged atop a cargo crate. It showed them his teeth. The two younger Tesraki squealed and backed away hiding behind the older as they looked up at the grinning predator above them.

Etium seemed to be the only one who wasn’t concerned.

“M-meat.” One of them whispered 

He wasn’t aware the word accountant meant something different in their culture… that being that they were going to get eaten.

The human slipped down from where he was sitting to land on the floor.

The Tesraki squealed again and backed away.

“Fresh meat is a figure of speech. Just means you are new on the ship. We don’t eat sentient lifeforms.”

They couldn’t help but notice that he left out the non-sentient lifeforms. When the humans looked at them, they looked at them hungrily, like maybe fresh meat had not been some sort of figure of speech like it was claiming. Still, they kept relatively quiet unsure of what to believe.

“Don’t listen to them, they just like to mess with people.”

The Tesraki turned in a sharp circle watching as another human came marching up through the ship long fur billowing about their head.

“They don’t mean any harm. It's just a social hazing ritual they like.”

“I am familiar.”

The two younger tesraki glanced at Etium ears pulled back.

That would have been nice to know earlier.

They looked back, watching as the doors receded into the distance, and knew they were walking into a den of predators.

Celzex 

Everything here was big, very big, and it sort of managed to make them very angry. They marched onto the ship, though their marching didn’t get them more than a few feet onto the human ship before they almost got stepped on by a marching column of humans. They froze in place led by their leader who stood tall before them, the very real son of lord Celex, Lord Avex.

He waited, and they waited, for his great stature to attract the attention of the humans. 

Of course, it did not take long until his presence stopped another column of humans bringing cargo in from the other side of the hanger. They drew to a halt just before the Celzex, their eyes widening in fear. A few of them made vocalizations of confusion and intimidation, that manifested as very high pitched squeals for a human. They lifted their hands before their faces and chest as if to guard themselves from the danger that the Celzex possessed.

“Lord Avex, we were told of your imminent arrival.” One of the humans announced bowing his head, “There was an…. Extensive briefing about how to treat your eminence.” They bowed their heads in that way humans tend to have to show difference towards their betters.

“Please, allow me and my comrades to escort you to your quarters.” The humans lowered themselves slightly towards the ground, dropping onto one knee, “As a sign of difference to your great status please use these men as your mounts, for the ship is large and we have a long way to go. 

There was a silence as Lord Avex waited eyeing the humans with some concern.

They were a proud race.

From the corners of their eyes, the Celzex could see the humans shifting nervously, probably out of fear and awe to how great and terrible the Celzex truly were in such numbers. 

“We will accept your offer, human.”

The humans prostrated themselves even further, lowering towards the ground so the Celzex could blimp aboard, first onto their knees and then onto their backs, and then onto their shoulders as they took back to their feet. 

From the back of a human they were very high up, and very impressive.

Lord Avex was sure that their group cut a very imposing parade across the ship. The Celzex atop their human mounds, two of the most dangerous species in the galaxy.

And they did turn more than a few heads as they went, with wide eyes and open mouths the other humans stared and made similar sounds of awe and fear as had the others.

The humans on which they rode appeared more than smug, their head lifted pridefully clearly pleased at those they were able to carry.

It was a great honor after all, and who could blame them for thinking so.

The other humans must have been jealous to ferry along such important figures as the Celzex.

And of course they were eventually brought to their quarters on one of the middle decks. It had all the things that they requested, and promised access to a human 24/7 if required.

One of the humans bowed their head to lored Avex, “My lord, Admiral Vir was sorry he could not be here to witness your glorious arrival. He sends his deepest apologies and an invitation to a meal tonight as a human show of good faith. Also, due to his laxness and improper greeting he would be more than willing to act as your steed whenever you wish for his insolence and penance.

Lord Avex found this to be an agreeable apology.

Somewhere Adam Vir was quite pleased with himself for coming up with such a smooth reason to hold a Celzex, while continuing to maintain interspecies relations with one of the most powerful species on the planet.

Burg

Maverick was surprised to find people in the chapel when she walked aboard, less of people and more of an alien and a few people when she stepped in. She was even more surprised to find that this particular alien was not a Tesraki, or a Celex, but a bug-like creature with sharp mandibles, and an array of colorful wings.

“Burg!”

She said the phrase out loud, surprising herself and the burg, who nearly leaped out of it’s own carapace as it turned to look at her. Its wings were a pleasant blue color shot through with little streaks of brilliant green. 

It rested a few of its front hands together and bowed to her as she pulled to a stop, “Greetings, I am Miran, religious scholar of the burg and a social envoy of the new king and queen of the burg homeworld. I am here to foster a mending of relations between our two species and contribute some of our knowledge and culture to your endeavors.”

Maverick lowered her hands.

“I see, I wasn’t aware that the Burg were part of the GA.”

The creature sat on one of the pews, “We are not, formally, but we have since updated our status as a protectorate of the GA while we attempt to mend things between ourselves. Forgive me for startling you so, but I had hoped that you might accept my help in your religious gathering room. During our time of war, the old queen tasked me with learning about your species, and in so doing I fell upon your thriving religious culture that reminded me of the stories of our own before the queen abolished much of our tradition.”

“A burg who is a religious scholar…. I would not have assumed that.”

“And what denomination do you frequent?” He wondered looking at her with expectant eyes and a surprisingly open face for a creature she had once thought to be hideous and gut churning. The butterfly wings helped she supposed, “A random flavor of Christian, though it’s not really important.” She walked over to sit next to the burg who was looking around their little chapel with great interest.

“Do you have a religion?”

The burg’s antenna twitched, and it clicked it’s mandibles, though the way it performs the action was less worrisome than the way that she had seen it in the past, “I do, I do. I follow the old religion, in a time where the burg believed in many gods. I Believe mostly in the gods of the east, the ones that frequent the tops of mountains and are connected with the ideals of honor, adventure, and scholarly pursuits.”

“Honor?” She asked in surprise 

He sighed, “I understand it will take a while for your species to see us for what we really are rather than what our queen has led you to assume about us. But once upon a time we had a rich culture that was perpetuated on the ideals of honor and loyalty, though that loyalty was soon corrupted into the ability to hold grudges for a very long time and that bravery crossed a line into stupidity that nearly had our nation destroyed, but…. I had honestly hoped to talk about more enlightening subjects. Please, tell me more about your great culture and religious traditions.

Maverick smiled, “Where to begin…”

Finnari 

The humans were so nice to them. At first they had assumed that the humans would be scary, and they had been right. The fins on the sides of their heads had flared in agitation as they saw the humans, and they had backed away in concern and worry as soon as someone had approached.

But as the humans stopped and bowed, they were surprised and the gentle way in which they moved, and even reached ou  to touch the finnari in a kind way.

They were welcomed aboard the ship with open arms, and it was quickly accepted that here is where they would be safe.

Here they would be accepted.

The finnari are very trusting like that, and so had no problem when their quarters were proven to be situated right in the middle of the human quarters away from the other aliens at the center of everything. This had something to do with their role on the ship, working specifically with the psychological team (They were expected to be needed quickly) Two of them were healers, nurses by trade, and the other two worked with psychological issues, one of them was certified in a cuddle clinic as it was shown the Finnari ahd a similar impact on other creatures as the humans did.

They would be comfortable here, surrounded by all the humans where they would be safe. WHen you are friends with the wolves, there is nowhere safer to be than in the midst of their den.

And so they got to meet and to know their human comrades very quickly, invited to play games and to sit and chat, A few of the humans, less affable than the others might have attempted to be snappish or aggressive towards them, but they were quickly cut off by other humans who would not allow that sort of behavior.

They were going to get along very well aboard the ship.

Conn

There were more voices here than there ever had been before, and threw as a lot of work for him to get done. Conn had been pleased to learn that he was one of the reasons others were forced to sign a waver when boarding the ship. THey had to acknowledge his presence and tell the GA and the UNSC that they were not liable if Conn decided to share any of their personal secrets. They had to make sure that the UNSC or the GA could not be sued if Conn decided to do something stupid.

He was even more pleased to learn that many potential candidates had dropped out when hearing that he would be on the ship.

He was not, however, particularly pleased about their new mascot, a white Leviathan emblazoned on the side of the ship. The Admiral had argued that the thing had saved his life and Conn had argued that that thing had tried to eat his people in the past.

However when the Admiral pointed out that conn didn’t really care about them he hadn’t really been able to argue, and shut up despite his grouchiness.

Now he was fulfilling a role that the Admiral had given over to him rather silently.

The man hadn’t exactly asked him to do it, in fact he had specifically tried to avoid thinking about it when conn was around because he didn’t think the idea was particularly ethical.

Honestly, it was the whole reason why conn had decided to do it in the first place. If the Admiral didn’t want him to do it for ethical reasons, he was totally going to do it. In a way, Conn was sort of the defacto police force on the ship, monitoring thoughts and the minds of others as he went through trying to determine who was going to be a a problem and who was not though he didn’t mention these to the admiral just yet.

He sort of wanted to see what they were going to do, besides, the Admiral still needed to be punished.

He flated up the hall, reaching the familiar mind of the animal waffles, who he had come to familiarize hismelf with. She was very nervous when it came to leaving the commander now, worried that he was going to vanish for no good reason only to leave her alone like had done not so many months ago.

The Admiral did not plan on it, so he tried to sooth her animal mind just a little.

He floated onto the bridge and behind the man’s seat.

He knew when Adam sensed him.

And they both acknowledged each other

“Conn.”

“Admiral.”

‘Everything goes well?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

The Admiral seemed pleased conflating the fact that Conn would do something if anything was ACTUALLY WRONG.

Conn was annoyed to realize he was right. 

[ckneal]

So, I’ve had this idea kicking around in my head for a little while now, based on this premise: What if, due to some wire crossing that Chuck never anticipated, because he never anticipated Jack, or his powers, or that Jack might use his powers to tear open a portal to one of his cast off-worlds, allowing a scrapped draft of Michael to waltz over into the main canon universe, the OG Michael experiences some side effects? Such as, perhaps, his grace syncing up with the AU’s, causing his appearance to change for seemingly no reason, unaware that it’s corresponding with the other Michael changing vessels?

And as this is going on, Michael and Adam are at different stages in processing how they view one another. Adam’s just at the tail end of digesting the fact that he might be bisexual. Sure, there might be times when he and Michael are talking, and Michael says something, or—god forbid—laughs, and Adam feels this warm rush of affection, but that could just be something that happens when you’re part of a friendship that’s gotten this close. And, so what if he occasionally thinks about what might happen if they kissed, doesn’t everyone have that thought from time to time? That’s probably normal. And anyway, Michael looks just like him. Maybe he’s just getting vain.

But then, right in the middle of a conversation one day, Michael’s grace suddenly goes haywire. There’s this blinding flash, and Michael’s human form changes to that of the AU Michael’s apocalypse vessel. Dark hair, long coat, delicious beard, and neither of them have any idea why.

And this change is jarring for Adam. But it’s even more so for Michael, because, firstly, why did this happen? But also because, when he separated himself from Adam in the cage, for the sake of “privacy,” which Adam had made a big to-do about, Michael might have glossed over the fact that he couldn’t actually separate their minds completely. And, to a certain degree, a large part of maintaining their agreement, unbeknownst to Adam, involves Michael pretending that he doesn’t hear the odd fragment of a thought trickle over from Adam’s head. So, when Michael looks down at himself, at his hands and his new clothes, and then asks Adam what he looks like, he hears:

Holy shit—gorgeous—fucking hell—take me now. . .

“. . .Different.”

And with time moving more slowly in Hell than it does on earth, even though AU Michael only briefly wore this vessel after he crossed over, this new look sticks around for a little while for OG Michael and Adam. Which initially changes their dynamic a bit. Michael begins to wonder if he should tell Adam that his thoughts are not as infallibly private as Adam had been led to believe. However, there’s only so much entertainment in the cage, and there is something unspeakably gratifying about the fact that now, when he and Adam get into a debate, and Adam has a really solid argument going, Michael can stretch his neck like he’s trying to work out a kink, and hear Adam’s train of thought come to a screeching halt as he helplessly imagines what it would feel like to nuzzle into the expose skin. The thought generally only lasts a second or so, but inevitably costs Adam his footing the conversation every time, as it’s usually followed by Adam chastising himself for upwards of twenty minutes.

On one occasion, while discussing something called Kohlberg’s stages of morality, Michael evidently said Adam’s name in such a way that made him excuse himself to the far side of the cage, where Michael knew for a fact Adam spent the entire time scowling at the ceiling and thinking:

Creep—Stop staring at him—Not his fault he looks—sexy—gorgeous—fucking get it together. . .

Michael is aware that he has no business finding the whole situation as amusing as he does. After all, if Adam were to ever act on his errant thoughts, Michael would have to tell him that, as an angel of the Lord, entertaining any kind of relationship with a human would be utterly inappropriate. Angels simply didn’t do that sort of thing. . .

That said, a week or so later, Michael can hear Adam telling himself not to look at the dip in the V created by Michael’s new button-down shirt (it had arrived with the top two buttons undone, and Michael had refrained from altering it). Michael is getting ready to throw Adam off his game, again, when his grace flares. When the light subsides, Michael looks down at himself and sees that his human form has changed again. He looks up at Adam to ask what he looks like now, and Adam says. . .

Like an asshole.

“You look like Dean now. What happened?”

“I don’t know. . .”

Sadly, this change lasts significantly longer than the last one, and the awkward shift it causes in their dynamic is a lot less fun (for Michael). The second Michael’s face changes, Adam’s inner turmoil shifts from untoward appreciation, to a running loop of reminders that he’s looking at his brother’s face, which does not have nice eyes, and even if it did have nice eyes, the person looking out of them is a divine being with no interest in—in anything, and that the whole train of thought was sick, and redundant, and Michael didn’t mean to listen in, but he was already in the habit by this point.

Nor could Michael contradict Adam’s inner monologue, because of course Adam was right. Michael certainly wasn’t interested in—well, if anything, Michael was relieved that temptation had been taken out of Adam’s path. If Michael excused himself at one point to quietly explore the possibility of snapping himself back to the mysterious form from before, it was purely out of curiosity about the strange glitch in his powers, not for any other reason.

And, finding that, having never possessed or even seen the body in question, his attempts to revert to past vessels only brought up John Winchester’s form, Michael certainly didn’t feel disappointed. Nor did he spend the better part of an hour contemplating whether Adam’s father’s face would be an improvement over his brother’s, before remembering that he is not supposed to know or care about whether Adam is repulsed by his appearance.

Their rapport recovers, but nonetheless, they are both secretly relieved when Michael’s grace flares of its own volition once again. This time Michael is standing when the change happens, and the first thing he notices after is his height. This vessel was taller than Adam, or so it initially seemed, until Michael realized it was equipped with footwear that bolstered its natural height by a few inches. It was wearing fewer layers, and accessories securing its hair and dangling from its ears. Michael studied them with his hands.

“You look great,” Adam says before Michael has a chance to ask.

Obviously, Michael doesn’t care. By this point, Adam’s rush of lustful imaginings has become a relatively distant memory. Which made it all the more surprising when Michael was teaching Adam to speak Enochian sometime after the newest change. Michael was leaning forward, speaking slowly to show Adam precisely how he moved his lips and tongue around the syllables, but Adam’s accent was abysmal and distorted one word so badly that it threw off the entire sentence he was trying to say, and Michael briefly forgot himself to the point of actually laughing out loud—at which point, he heard the word Beautiful resonate through Adam’s mind.

Adam seemed to like this face. Words like “regal” and “stunning” crossed over from time to time, but, more significantly, Michael feels a surge of warmth come from him whenever Michael smiles—sometimes so intensely that the affection takes up residence in Adam’s eyes while they’re talking, and Michael can’t seem to look away.

After experiencing that, feeling his grace billow out of his control once again filled him with dread. Michael struggles to resist the change this time, but the flash of light comes nonetheless. Running his hands over his jaw afterward, and noting the familiar set of his legs, Michael knows before Adam says anything that he has changed into Dean Winchester again.

Adam chuckled when he saw Michael’s face. “You almost look disappointed.”

“Of course I’m not. I. . .I just wish I knew what was causing this.”

Once again, Dean’s face stays longer than it had any right to. To himself, Michael carefully thinks back over what he had been doing at the time of each change, wondering if he could possibly trigger another randomization. He had been talking each time—could it have been a key word or phrase, perhaps even a gesture or. . .thought?

Adam humors every experiment that Michael suggests, always with the same amused expression on his face. After the fourth or fifth failure, he says, gently, “You know, Dean’s face kind of suits you. Is it that bad?”

Michael retorts that this was not about vanity.

After all, Dean’s face is a reminder of their abandonment in the cage, and precisely what turn of events had led to Adam’s residency in particular. Michael would not force Adam to live with it peaceably when he should be capable of less offputting alternatives.

He’s overjoyed when the the now familiar surge of power finally courses through him again, and Adam has to bite his lip to stop his grin when Michael immediately begins running his hands over his new face. This vessel is the shortest to date; even with heels, Michael only stands as tall as Adam’s shoulder. This one also came with the most elaborate accessories. One of Michael’s new rings catches in the pins restraining his hair, necessitating the removal of both, and releasing a mane of shining red curls.

Adam helps him with the hair pins. And promptly grins when Michael’s thanks comes out in the cadence of a lilting Scottish accent.

Adam’s reaction to this one is easily the loudest since the first change. However, the words that Michael overhears run the gambit of Spitfire, Adorable, and Spritely—words that Michael is not accustomed to hearing in relation to himself, and not certain if he approves. He finally takes offense at the term pixie, and in the midst of a conversation about Purgatory, detours into a tangent about how angels and pixies are in no way similar to one another, regardless of humanity’s affinity for portraying the two specifies as humanoid beings with wings.

During this spiel, Michael fails to notice Adam raising an eyebrow at the abrupt segeway. He spends a minute, leaning against the side of the cage, half listening to Michael, while also trying to deduce how pixies came into the conversation. Then suddenly realization hits, and the fact that he is able to keep his face completely neutral is nothing short of a miracle.

Adam’s rather proud of the fact that he’s managed to get himself under control since coming to terms with his attraction toward Michael. Being around Michael after the first body swap had been difficult, and then confusing, after the second change put Michael in the shape of a blood relative, and not exactly a fondly remembered one at that. Self-control had become a matter of sanity for Adam, and, once he’d acknowledged his feelings to himself, vital for maintaining their friendship as it was. He hadn’t imagined making out with Michael against the side of the cage in ages. But now, with Michael’s tangent, with his fussing after each vessel change in mind, he had a hypothesis to test.

Michael was still talking when Adam’s fantasy hit him: Adam pushing away from the wall, three steps to close the distance between them, and then tilting Michael’s pixie-esque face upward to kiss him breathless. It was. . .very vivid. Michael could almost feel Adam’s arm slip around his waist, and the ghost-like caress of his tongue along his lips, requesting admittance. The fantasy cut short before request could be answered.

Adam bit back a grin watching Michael trip over his consonants. Even before he walked over, he could see the blush spreading out on Michael’s face. Michael doesn’t move back as Adam approaches him, coming in closer than he would normal go. Instead, Michael seems to lean into the closeness, tilting his own head back as his lips parted, eyes on Adam’s face. Adam’s tempted to run a hand along Michael’s jaw. 

Then. . .

“.. .I’m sorry, I got distracted thinking about something. Can you repeat that last part?”

“W—Yes, of course.” Michael practically flies three steps back. “As I was saying—”

“Wait, Michael. . .”

“Yes?” When Michael, flustered, finally looks at Adam again, Adam is giving him a look that normally means a joke has gone over his head—though what the joke could be is beyond him. Michael tries to listen into Adam’s mind, but all he can detect is vague confusion.

Meanwhile, Adam is not sure whether he’s being rejected, or if Michael had honestly just missed the part where Adam caught him listening in on his thoughts red handed, and maybe caught him in something else too. Judging by the look on Michael’s face though, Adam was going to have to ask the question outright. . .

“You know, I think we got off topic. Let’s take it back to Purgatory.”

. . .But he cops out.

Shortly after the pixie incident, Michael experiences the opposite of the power surge that marks the onset of a change. His grace seems to short circuit for a moment, and when the riotous flickering subsides, he’s reverted to Adam’s form. What this means, neither of them know. They carry on, neither of them saying it, but both secretly braced for the next change. Instead, the next time Michael senses an unexplainable rush of power, the cage door swings open, and the two of them sit there gaping at their freedom for an embarrassingly long amount of time before either moves to step outside.

When they do, Michael is wary. He doesn’t know of many beings that could simply open the cage, and he can’t dismiss the thought that this might be a trap of some sort. He pulls the two of them back into one being and ventures out cautiously. He knows where the doorway to earth is, and can get there as easily on foot as by wing. . .but then they happen to pass by the new queen of Hell, seemingly out on some kind of procession. Which is unusual enough for Hell, since festivities are not typically done there, but more importantly, Michael gets caught on the queen’s appearance.

“Michael? Why are we stopping?”

“That woman.”

“Yes?”

“Doesn’t she look familiar?”

“Um. . .I don’t know? Why, is she some important bible-y character?”

“First, we are not characters, Adam, but also—” Michael struggles to articulate his thoughts. He’d seen that woman in Adam’s fantasy! She was attired differently, in red and gold, with her hair arranged in waves woven through with braids, but it was her. He knew for a fact that Adam had once gazed at her in amazement that he could find anyone so unreservedly endearing while they were in a “mood,” as Adam had put it, yet now he hardly seemed to notice her. To think that Adam could be so offhanded with his affections was disconcerting.

Michael sets it aside, but the thought cycles back when he and Adam are at the diner later.

“You really didn’t recognize that redhead?”

“Jeez, Michael, did you?” Adam shoots him a look as he takes a bite of his pizza. It’s the one that usually meant there was something humorous going on that Michael didn’t see.

One thing that had slipped Michael’s mind when he bound Adam and himself back together in Hell, was that their proximity would make Adam’s thoughts significantly easier to overhear. As Adam chews, Michael distinctly hears:

Go on, say it—You’re not going to say it—Say it, I dare you. . .

“What’s with the frown?” Adam says after swallowing and wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin.

“I’m still figuring that out.”

Adam chuckles as he picks a french fry off the plate of his first entrée. . . .Yeah, you’ll get there. . .

[kikoqueenofrats]

@toastraccoon​ the next part of this madness is here!

It had been a few weeks since the duo had got back to looking for Cels game now and they had still got no where. They had asked every sentient being, looked under every rock and searched every web browser, no matter what they did they still ended up as well off information wise as when the duo had first met.

Currently they were making their way through another flash game website, hoping to bump into someone who could give them any sort of information on the whereabouts of Cel's game.

Cel was partway through telling Mari about the time a random stick figure had stumbled into their game and decided to try and fight the protagonist when they suddenly looked sad.

"...He managed to beat em'....but...I-I still don't understand why he ran off when those two other new sticks came an...and destroyed my home-" Cel muttered looking away guiltily "maybe he was trying to get everyone to evacuate?" He smiled, though it seemed forced.

"Mhm" Mari nodded slowly "or maybe protag is just a coward" they muttered. They looked over at Cel, expecting them to explode on them for insulting their protagonist like that, but Cel only looked really sad and unsure.

 Mari huffed "alright! Let's forget about your game for a bit!"

Cel looked up at Mari in shock, about to protest.

"You need a break!" Mari stated firmly "we'll get back to looking for your home after this, I promise!" They added before quickly running over the the scroll button and scrolling through the games listed. After finding what they were looking for they ran back, climbed up to the games icon and clicked it.

Soon enough the duo were standing next to what looked like a cooking sim menu. Cel looked at Mari in confusion as they began happily bouncing on the soles of their feet.

Before any questions could be asked Mari pressed the start button and quickly made their way over to the neatly laid out table that had suddenly appeared.

Cel continued to stare, until Mari began beckoning him to come join, with that he shrugged and slowly made his way over. If Mari had decided to take what they had said a couple weeks ago back, then Cel didn’t really have much of a choice but to go along with whatever Mari wanted.

What ensued after that could only be described as organized chaos.

Despite following the recipe given to them by the game, Maris way of adding each ingredient was creative to say the least.

Instead of putting the flower through a sieve Mari just dumped the entire bag into the bowl, causing a large cloud of flour to come billowing out of it.

Most of it ended up covering poor Cel, as he coughed and spluttered in an attempt to clear his assaulted lungs Mari looked over and began quietly chuckling at Cels predicament.

Cel couldn’t help but feel a slightly familiar twinge of embarrassment as Maris laughter reached his ears. Though that disappeared slightly at Mari’s next two words.

“Sorry about that” Mari chuckled looking around for something the help clean Cel off, when their search proved unfruitful they turned back “Probably should’ve warned you about that” 

Cel had brushed most of the flower out of his eyes at that point and was now looking at Mari with an annoyed look on his face. Mari didn’t notice though as they had gone back to haphazardly throwing ingredients into the bowl in front of them.

After throwing almost everything into the bowl whole, including the eggs, Mari turned to Cel, looking quite proud of themselves. Cel did not return Maris jubilant expression but they didn't really notice, quickly handing them the blender.

"Here!" Mari smiled grabbing Cels arm and pulling them so he was standing in front of the bowl "I can't do all the work now can I?" Mari's smile turned playful and Cel couldn't help but smile back.

He looked down at the mess in front of him and sighed, before turning the blender on and slowly mixing the ingredients.

After a while Cel was done, the mixture looked...better than it was previously which confused Cel a bit at first. But he figured it was probably due to the games mechanics.

Soon enough the cake was in the oven and the duo waited for about ten seconds before it was completed.

Mari pulled it out, surprisingly not getting burned as they used their bare hands to do so.

"Wh..." Cel stared at the almost perfectly baked cake in shock as Mari took it out of the tray. "Now!" Mari turned to Cel smile still on their face "on to my favorite bit!" With that, the ingredients, along with the mess they had made, disappeared and was replaced by frosting pipes, pieces of candy and rainbow sprinkles.

Before Cel could fully take in what was happening Mari had already grabbed one of the pipes and was messily decorating the cake.

Cel watched this for a few moments before Mari turned, "you gonna help?" They asked, not really meaning any malice by it but Cel took it as such and nervously nodded.

Slowly grabbing the rainbow sprinkles

Cel looked at Mari hesitantly, unsure if he was grabbing what they wanted but Mari's smile only grew warmer and they continued to cover the cake in icing.

Cel smiled back, carefully adding the sprinkles on top of Mari's icing. He was nervous at first, seemingly waiting for Mari to snap at him, but soon began to relax as time went on.

Soon enough they had completely covered the cake in the different sugary toppings.

"Mmh, this smells good" Cel muttered, his stomach rumbled and Mari looked at him in shock. "What was that?!?" They asked worried.

"Uhm..." Cels face flushed red in embarrassment "I'm sorry I'm just...hungry.." They muttered hesitantly. Mari still looked confused "what's hungry?". It was Cels turn to look at Mari in shock "Oh!...uh...well it's when your body tells you that you need to eat..." Cel rubbed the back if his neck as the nervous feeling began to spread across his chest.

Mari looked even more confused now "what's eat?" They asked, Cels once shocked face quickly turned into one of concern. "Y...you don't know what eat is...oh..." Cel muttered thinking for a few moments before getting an idea. He grabbed a chunk off of their sugary mess and held it up to Mari.

"Eat is when you put food" Cel pointed at the cake "into your mouth" he pointed at his mouth "and chew, then you swallow it...and that pretty much sums it up-" he chuckled continuing to hold out the chunk to Mari.

Getting the hint Mari took the chunk and quickly stuffed it into their mouth. After a few moments of chewing they swallowed.

"Mmmmhm" Mari mumbled as a look of complete bliss washed over their features. Cel chuckled again, "I can't believe I never tried this before!!" Mari gasped before beginning to devour the rest of the cake.

Cel just stood there watching in amusement, before he could even say anything the cake was already gone.

Mari looked up from the now demolished creation and smiled sheepishly "I'm sorry did you want any?". Cel shook his head " I'm good" he lied, in fact he was starved. But since Mari had only just found out what food was he figured they needed to eat more than he did.

Mari didn't look entirely convinced for a few moments before another smile spread across their face "Okay then! Let's go find more of these games!" Mari announced running over to the recommended games corner "I wanna try some more of that food stuff!" They tapped the game just as Cel joined his side, smiling as well. 

The duo spent the rest of the day playing multiple different cooking sims. Gorging themselves on the many delicious and creatively made foods in each game as they went.

After having to move computers because a user spotted them. Cel and Mari were currently sitting on the monitor bar of the game. Cel was curled up next to Mari his head leaning gently next to Maris knee.

"Hey Cel?" Mari asked looking down at him. He looked so tired, but also sad. Mari had a feeling they knew why.

"Yeah?" Cel asked looking up at Mari to the best of his abilities.

"You wanna check out those communities in flameit.com after this? I'm pretty sure those older sticks were hiding something...who knows, maybe it'll get us closer to finding your game" Mari's once pondering expression turned into a warm smile as they watched Cels once confused look turn into one of muted delight.

"Okay" Cel smiled before laying his head back onto the floor. Mari didn't seem as bad as he first thought they were.

Part of him felt glad, the other part confused.

Cel figured he would find out why the much stronger stick was being so nice to him later. Right now however he just wanted to lay here until Mari decided it was time to search for more clues.

[wandas-sunshine]

The Good Side

Summary: Steve made a mistake, but at least you got the good side of things. He just never imagined that it would hurt so badly.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (sorta)

Word Count: 2222

Warnings: Angst, there’s no happy ending here, cheating

Flashbacks are in italics

You were nervous sitting there in the same little cafe that the two of you used to meet at almost daily. You were tucked into the back corner at your usual table, gazing out the window with your back to the door. Your cup was steaming in front of you. You hadn’t touched it yet. See, sitting there, and sipping your coffee, and watching people passing by on the busy streets while you waited for him to come...it felt too much like when things were okay between you. It felt too much like those days when he’d come and press sweet kisses to your lips, and apologize for being late. But he was always late, and it was always okay, because he was always sorry, and you could never stay mad at him when those big blue eyes looked so guilty.

The little bell over the door jingled in the way that used to excite you. Now it filled you with an anxious sort of dread. It had been over a year since you’d last seen Steve in person, and it hadn’t exactly been the most pleasant parting of ways.

You were shaking as you packed up your things from Steve’s apartment. Neither of you had said a word to each other since you’d walked through the door. He was just following you around the apartment, standing in the doorways. Your chest ached from the crying that you didn’t want to admit you’d been doing all night long.

He stood there with crossed arms, brooding silently as you erased every trace of yourself from the apartment the two of you had shared for the past year. You folded the flaps of the box together, and he stepped towards you so he could carry it to your car. Before he could, you’d scooped it into your own arms and brushed past him.

“(Y/N), let me help.” He pleaded. You glared at him. His voice was hoarse, you figured yours wasn’t sounding much better. You had cried yourself to sleep and hadn’t stopped crying since you woke up.

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that you don’t need me around. I don’t need you to usher me out of your life.” You snapped. The words stung you to say, but they sunk into Steve’s heart like venomous fangs. You’d been together for three year. Of course you’d had your fair share of fights. But never had he heard you sound so...over him.

The chair across from you was pulled out, and Steve sat himself down in front of you. He looked different. Less like the all-American boy-next-door you’d been in love with. His blonde hair was shaggier now, and he’d grown his beard out. You expected it to sting looking at him now, but it didn’t. Maybe you’d fallen out of love with more grace than you’d initially realized. Betrayal would do that to a person

“You look good, (Y/N).” He spoke after a moment. Hearing your name from his lips was strange after so long. It didn’t sound like music to your ears anymore. His voice was wavering, the way it used to after he’d been crying. Part of you wondered...You shook off the thought. It wasn’t fair to guilt yourself like that.

“You do too. The beard is a good look on you.” You looked down at the steam billowing from the cup tucked carefully between your hands. You just barely caught his forced smile. “So...how are things? We haven’t talked in…” You knew that he knew just how long it had been. You were the one to stop answering his 4am texts, after all.

“Nothing’s really changed. I moved in with Bucky.” He informed you. He didn’t mention that it was because he couldn’t exist in his apartment without thinking about how much colder it felt without your light in it, without remembering that you were never coming back to him. You nodded, completely unsure of what to say. Then he pointed to your hand. “You have a...that’s...that’s new.”

Your eyes drifted down to the sparkling engagement ring nestled on your finger. Your face lit up, and the knowledge that someone else’s love made it brighten that way made Steve sick. How could he have been so stupid as to let you go.

“Yeah. It’s new. His name’s Thomas. He asked me last month. It was a little fast, but I know he’s the one.” You beamed at your ex and brought your cup up to your lips, finally taking a drink. “What about your love life? You and Sharon still…” You weren’t sure how to word it. You didn’t even know what they had been before.

“No. We...It didn’t last.” He sighed and scratched at his jaw. You should have felt worse that he’d lost her, but how could you after everything?

You were curled up to his chest in absolute bliss, the thin white sheet being the only thing between your skin and the cool air of your shared room. Your chest was sticking just a little to his, both of you still heated from your celebration of your engagement. Neither of you minded one bit. His arms were still wrapped around you, one hand stroking through your hair while the other traced lazily against your back. He always got that way after sex. Soft and touchy, like you’d disappear if he wasn’t holding you. It had become your favorite thing. A reminder that he loved you and wasn’t going to let you slip through his fingers.

“I love you so much, (Y/N).” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your head.

“I love you too, Stevie. Why else would I say yes?” You teased, waggling your finger at him and showing off the ring he’d slipped onto it only hours ago. You brushed your fingertips against his jaw and leaned up to press your lips together. The kiss was slow and sweet and didn’t last nearly long enough as he pulled your hand to his lips. A soft kiss was laid against your palm, then against the ring he had chosen.

The both of you were nearing sleep as you curled up, basking in the afterglow. It was all barely-there kisses and feather-light touches until the sound of a phone buzzing against the bedside table drew you out of it. You whined and stretched to pick up the offending device from where your two phones lay together. You glanced at his screen, expecting it to be Bucky or Nat asking how the proposal went. But when you opened the message, you were greeted by something exponentially worse.

“I’m sorry, Steve.” You met his gaze again. His eyes were still clouded with the same guilt from before. You wondered if they’d ever shine as bright as they once had. But Steve knew they never would. He would never be able to wash away the weight of losing the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“So you’re engaged. What else did I miss?” He asked. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what to say now. He’d asked to meet in your old spot for a reason. He’d hoped it would bring back something, memories or buried feelings for him. It was naive really, but he had come with every intention of begging you to come back to him. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected you to be just as miserable as he was without you at his side. You’d always been good at looking on the bright side of things.

“I moved out of Nat’s place. I got my own apartment a few blocks away from her. Tom is moving in soon. Oh, and we got a dog!” You unlocked your phone to show Steve a picture of you and your brand new puppy. “And I got that promotion I was trying so hard to get.”

In complete honesty, your break up had brought out a side of you that you’d never expected. Instead of sulking around Natasha’s apartment, you’d dove head-first into making your life better. You socialized more with newer people, worked your ass off to get where you wanted to be. You’d become a brighter version of yourself. And as much as it hurt Steve to see you happy with anyone else, he was proud more than anything else.

“Looks like you got the good side of things” He couldn’t help the heartbroken chuckle that came after he spoke. Natasha had nearly killed him after you walked the three miles to her apartment, heartbroken and completely alone in the middle of the night. Then again when she found out why you had done it.

Your eyes scanned the screen like you were misreading it. A new message from Sharon Carter. It read “missing you Captain” with a series of very flirty emojis strung behind it. If that wasn’t enough to completely shatter your heart, the picture that loaded would. It was a mirror shot of the stunning blonde in America themed lingerie that was far too reminiscent of Steve’s suit. You slowly looked away from the phone to your fiance’s face.

“”(Y/N), what’s wrong?” He asked, blue eyes scanning your eyes while his brain thought through a million awful scenarios. Not one of them came close to the terrible reality.

“What…” You blinked back tears. “What is this?” You asked, sitting up and letting the sheet fall away from your body. You handed him the phone with an unsteady hand. You didn’t sound angry, or even upset. Just a little shocked.

“Let me explain.” He stated immediately. You shook your head, shifting to climb off the bed you two shared. The weight of the tension in the room was too heavy, too hot. You needed air. It felt like your lungs were caving in. All you could think about were his hands, the hands that had just pushed you to pleasure more times than you could count, all over her.

“Nothing to explain.” You countered. You were already pulling your clothes on as he sat up. “You slept with her, didn’t you?”

He gave you a look, a silent plea. You did your best not to look at him, but a whisper of your name shattered your resolve. You met his gaze, those sparkling eyes that once gave you so much comfort, a sense of home, were now clouded with guilt.

“When?” You settled your hands on your hips and trained your eyes on a random wrinkle in the sheets. Anything to keep you from looking at him.

“Once a few months ago.” You gave a slight nod at his answer, still at a loss for words. There was a long, heavy silence before he spoke once more. “Then again...three weeks ago.”

That was all you could take. You felt like you’d be sick if you stayed any longer. You buttoned up your jeans and shoved your feet into your shoes. Neither of you spoke as you gathered the most important things. Phone, keys, the overnight bag you usually kept packed in case of emergencies. Everything else could wait.

“(Y/N), please talk to me. Where are you gonna go?” He begged as your hand gripped the doorknob with a strength you didn’t even realize you had, your knuckles fading to white under the force. You looked down, and a gling caught your eye. What had you beaming with pride five hours earlier now just made you nauseous. “Baby?”

You squeezed your eyes shut to force back your tears. Your fingers made quick work of pulling off your ring. You tossed it onto the bed in front of him.

“Have a good life, Steve.” You turned to leave before pausing. “And tell Sharon thanks for me. It’s good to know who you can trust.”

“I guess I did get the good side.” You looked down at your cup again, but it wasn’t out of guilt or anger. “You know, I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

For a moment, Steve brightened, and his heart didn’t feel so entirely full of lead.

“I don’t think I understand.” He confessed. You smiled, a genuine smile that lit up your face and made your eyes twinkle. Oh, how he missed being the cause of such radiance.

“You taught me how to be myself. You taught me how to love, Steve. You taught me how to love, and then you destroyed me.” Your words weren’t meant maliciously, they were just honest. Steve was sure death would hurt less than hearing you say things like that. “And that’s how I learned how to survive. I didn’t let myself wallow in self pity and I’m better for it. So thank you.”

Steve released a shaky breath. This had been an awful idea. Almost as bad as letting Sharon seduce him not once, but twice, all while he could have been reminding you how much he loved you. He could have been reminding you just how badly he needed you to breathe, but instead he tore apart your relationship. He hadn’t expected to lose you, but you walked away and took every good thing in his life with you.

“I’m sorry.” When Steve gave you a confused look, you elaborated. “I’m sorry that I got the good side of things.”

[creative-type]

wake from death (and return to life) v

AO3 Previous  Summary:  Zoro had always been told that Kuina died falling down the stairs. But she didn’t fall, and she wasn’t dead.

...

Port Tolouse was on fire. Thick black smoke billowed in the air, choking Kuina’s lungs and stinging her eyes as they drew nearer to the island, the heat pulling her skin taunt. At random intervals explosions would rocket in the distance, followed seconds later by low rumbles that would carry over the ocean.

In comparison, Belo Betty’s ship was deathly silent. As silent as a group of over a hundred sailors could be, anyway. But somehow, the random coughs and creaking wood stood out as all the more unnatural, devoid of the usual hustle and bustle of life that Kuina had grown accustomed to. Hiding behind her mask, she stayed near Dara, not willing to lose her on the crowded decks. Together they joined Elizabeth, Lyudmila, and Aria de Gris at one of the ship's lifeboats. Other groups—individual squads in Betty’s army, Kuina supposed—likewise found themselves huddled near the small vessels, but the bulk of the Revolutionaries remained right where they were. They were going to fight their way in.

If de Gris thought anything of Kuina’s presence or strange apparel, she didn’t show it. Over half the Revolutionaries Kuina saw had their faces covered in some way or other. While de Gris and Lyudmila chose not to change out of their everyday clothing, Elizabeth had a bandana tied around the bottom half of her face kept her backward ball cap low on her forehead, and Dara had spent most of their time approaching Tolouse painting her face to look like a living skull. Vibrant clothing was exchanged for a loose-fitting outfit made of greys and blacks that reminded Kuina of the stories her father told of kunoichi assassins.

“There’s a story on my home island,” Dara had explained as she put the final touches of black to her cheeks, “of a death god who steals the shadows of the wicked and weaves them into a fine cloak, leaving them to whither to dust in the sun.” Her skeletal grin widened. “Who am I to deny these bastards the opportunity to see the face of god before they die?”

She had paused then, as if waiting for Kuina to tell the story behind the blue and red oni mask, but as far as Kuina knew there wasn’t any. It was just something her father had hanging on his wall that she had taken on a whim, something the swordsmen of the old country wore into battle, just as she prepared to do now. Kuina could only shrug and follow her above decks, waiting for their next orders.

“Is everyone ready to depart? Chances are we won’t be able to come back for a second trip,” de Gris said in a low tone. She eyed each of them critically, gaze lingering on Kuina a shade longer than the rest. Kuina shrugged her backpack higher on her shoulders in response, all her worldly possessions contained within. De Gris nodded once sharply to herself, as if confirming a fact she already knew.

“Alright. First objective is to meet up with the rest of the crew and see what shape our boat’s in. We still haven’t been able to reinstate communications, but our job will be a hell of a lot easier if the enemy doesn’t know where we’re at. Dara?” she asked.

“Ready, Boss.”

“We leave once Betty gives the signal.”

Before Kuina could ask what that signal was, Belo Betty emerged from belowdecks. Revolutionaries parted before her as if she were a drop of water in a quart of oil as she strode to the raised quarterdeck, voluminous skirts billowing regally behind her. She moved with such grace Kuina wouldn’t have been surprised if she were floating on air, and didn’t flinch as a cannonball fell just short of the ship, splashing harmlessly into the water. It was the first attack, and in the haze Kuina couldn’t tell if it came from land or sea.

Acting as the Revolutionary’s herald, Belo Betty stood with a familiar red and black flag in hand. It was much bigger than the one she’d used against Kuina, and the sight of it made her sick. Betty slammed the ferruled end against the deck as if she were trying to stake the blunted metal into the thick wood. The resulting silence was deafening.

A moment passed as Betty appraised the resolute faces of the men and women under her command. Then another, and another. Then suddenly, Belo Betty thrust the flag into the air and shouted, “ For freedom! ”

The Revolution roared . Kuina barely turned her back in time before Betty swept the blood-red field in front of her. Without being able to actually see the flag, the effect of her devil fruit was dampened, but Kuina could still feel the effect it had on everyone around her. Gooseflesh went up and down her arms as an unnatural electricity sparked from person to person, spreading like a deadly contagion across the decks.

Kuina had wondered why the entirety of the Revolution’s fighting force gathered together in one place making themselves vulnerable to enemy attack, and now she knew. Less disciplined soldiers worked themselves into a frenzy, their hysteria so great they had to be held back to prevent them from jumping into the sea with the intent of swimming their way to Tolouse. Some beat their rifle butts against the decks in savage rhythm, others screamed war cries or shouted profanities at the enemy.

But most seemed used to the flag’s intoxicating effects. In a way, they were more intimidating than their less-disciplined brethren, maintaining rank and awaiting orders while the blood boiled in their veins, whole-hearted desire for war mixed with the soundness of mind to do so effectively. Kuina could even sense it in her small group--the quickening of their heartbeat, nostrils flaring as their breathing deepened, pupils blown wide-open in punch-drunk anticipation.  

“Alright, ladies. That’s our cue,” de Gris said. A tight, savage grin belied the calmness in her voice. Her naked sword gleamed in the sun. “Mila, Kuina, you’re on rowing duty. Elizabeth you stay back, and Dara you take middle.”

No one had said anything about rowing, but Kuina didn’t argue. Though the lifeboat could easily have seated over a dozen people they remained clustered in a diamond formation, with Kuina, Lyudmila, Elizabeth, and de Gris forming the four points and Dara square in the center. As soon as they were boarded they were quickly lowered into the sea, hidden from the shore by the broad side of the brigantine.

“Sorry, but I need to touch you for this to work,” Dara said, grabbing a hold of Kuina’s backpack. Her other hand wrapped around Lyudmila’s shirt sleeve, while a still-standing de Gris lay a hand on her head and Elizabeth had a fist full of the back of her shirt. “And if you need to puke, try not to get any on me.”

Without giving Kuina any time to question what she’d just said, Dara activated her devil fruit. With a sickening lurch that made Kuina feel like she was a metal wire being stretched through a drawing hole she, her four companions, and their little boat they were sitting in was laying flush with the water, all-but-invisible from the shore.

Behind her, Elizabeth retched, loudly and copiously into the back of the lifeboat. Dara sighed.

“And this is why she never gets rowing duty.”

Kuina decided right then and there that devil fruits were not meant to be understood, only accepted. After recovering from the initial shock of suddenly existing in two dimensions instead of three, Kuina nearly threw herself into a panic thinking that Betty’s ability had made the Revolutionaries collectively go mad, and that the tiniest wave was going to capsize their boat.

Except, somehow, it didn’t. Despite their flatness, the lifeboat still had gunwales. There still, somehow, was depth, because Kuina could discern that de Gris was standing above them and that her feet were firmly planted below. It made no sense, and trying to wrap her mind around it only raised more questions Kuina couldn’t answer.

“Don’t just sit there, girl,” de Gris hissed. “ Row. And keep those oars as close to the water as possible.”

Hastily Kuina did as she was told, trying her best to ignore her paper-thin arms by focusing on her oar. It, at least, was somewhat flat under ordinary circumstances and didn’t look quite as unnatural as the rest of them as it skimmed across the surface of the sea. Behind her, Elizabeth groaned.  

“How far?”

“We need to get behind the first line of defenses.” De Gris scanned the sea and pointed to a jetty farther up the coast. “There. Betty will draw the majority of the fire away from our position, and once we ground we can hit them from behind and hopefully give her a chance to land her people.”

“Strange that communications haven’t opened,” Dara said.

De Gris hid her scowl behind a hand as she lit a cigarette. “Whole turn of events is strange. I don’t like that we’re walking in blind, so stay sharp. Something is very wrong here.”

“Besides the fact that everything’s on fire?” Elizabeth said before being overtaken by a harsh, brassy cough. “What sort of king does that to his own people?”

As they drew closer to the jetty, Kuina could hear the alarm of fire brigades over the sounds of fighting, but it seemed like a lost cause. The cityfront nearest the docks was already a blackened ruin, the greedy flames having moved on in search of more fuel, carried by the favorable wind that had brought the Revolutionary Army so quickly east. Whatever they were fighting over was already gone.

De Gris stared resolutely ahead, her eyes never leaving the flickering red-orange skyline. “I’m not so sure he did.”

xxx

There was no practical way for Dara to maintain her power once they reached the jetty. They quickly disembarked, and it fell upon Kuina and Lyudmila to secure the line while the rest hurried to cover. Smoky haze mixed with mist rolling off of the sea, obscuring them from any eyes that might have strayed from Betty’s distraction.

Kuina’s teeth were already on edge when Lyudmila paused to peer at Kuina through her thick glasses. There was a faint, perplexed expression on her face. “What will you do once the fighting starts?”

“You’re really going to ask me this now? ” Kuina asked. “I told your boss already: A swordsman pays their debts. Nothing good would have happened to me if I’d stayed at Lougetown. Even if I think you all are a bunch of two-faced bastards, I owe you for getting me out.”

“You would fight for the people you hate.”

It wasn’t a question, and something about her tone made Kuina want to squirm. She finished the last knot, and together they hurried to join the others. “Hate’s a strong word. Most of you have been...hospitable. We just see things differently. You know, on an organizational level. I mean, you haven’t tried to shoot me even once . I’m almost insulted.”

For the first time since they had met, Lyudmila smiled. Like all of her expressions, it was barely noticeable, a twitch at the corner of her mouth that was gone almost before it had arrived. “Even if we are a bunch of two-faced bastards?”

“The way I see it, most people have a little bit of bastard in them, myself included” Kuina said with a shrug. They ducked into the hollow of a burnt out warehouse where de Gris waited less-than-patiently, bloody sword in hand and a pair of guardsmen laying dead at her feet. “Some just happen to have more than others.”

Lyudmila made a noise that was suspiciously like a laugh, and Kuina didn’t miss the questioning look de Gris shot her way, or the subtle nod she gave in return They were still watching her, testing her fragile allegiance.

Kuina’s pride rankled that they thought she might break her word, but she looked away and pretended that she hadn’t noticed the exchange. There were more important things at hand.

Like the fact that Port Tolouse was on fire.

“I’ve already sent Dara ahead to start wreaking havoc along their cannoneers,” de Gris said. “Mila, I want you to find someplace high where you can start harassing the enemy. I remember there being a belltower at the square that looked like it would offer a pretty good view.”

“Could be conspicuous,” Lyudmia said.

“Right.” de Gris lit a cigarette. “I leave it to your discretion. You got a mini on you?”

Lyudmila held up her wrist, where a baby den-den mushi slept.

“Don’t how good your signal’s going to be, but I want to know what’s going on at sky level. Don’t worry about being overheard, Trini set me up with a ghost before we left.”

Lyudmila nodded once sharply, and disappeared into the street. Kuina and Elizabeth shared an uneasy glance as de Gris turned her attention to them, frowning around her cigarette like she didn’t quite know what to do with the last two members of her team.

“We need to rendezvous with the troops we left behind and find out what the hell’s jamming our snails,” she said finally. “Last report had them dug in in the Oldtown neighborhood, but with the fires that could have changed.”

“I thought we were backing up Betty,” Kuina said.

“We have. Any enemy ship that gets close enough to board is going to have Betty’s devil fruit to contend with, and neutralizing the land-based defenses will allow them to land safely on the island. The greatest threat to our people is the fact we can’t talk to one another.”

More arguments spring to the tip of her tongue, but Kuina bit them back. If de Gris thought sending one person to take out some cannons was all that was needed for Belo Betty to dock safely, that was her problem. She was obviously confident in Dara’s ability, and the unbidden memory of the other girl’s opinions on the quality of East Blue wars compared to the Grand Line swirled in Kuina’s mind.

Then she remembered how Dara had managed to sneak behind her without notice and wondered if maybe she hadn’t had a point.

“I’ve never heard of anything that can block a den-den mushi signal before,” Elizabeth said slowly, interrupting Kuina’s thoughts. “Do you think it’s some new World Government tech?”

“Probably. More important question is why deploy it here , in the asscrack of the East Blue?” A shadow flashed over de Gris’s face, something dark and ugly fighting its way to the surface. She turned her back to both Elizabeth and Kuina. “We’re wasting time. Weapons out, ladies. Where we’re going, things are going to be hot.”

Kuina drew her sword and followed her out of the ruined warehouse, mulling over her question. Because of its relative peacefulness, marines and Government agencies in the East Blue were notoriously underfunded. Military compounds received less money for training, research, and development. Its Cipher Pol branches had fewest agents in the entire world. Anyone with even a modicum of talent was poached by divisions in the Grand Line that offered incentives that made the more dangerous placements desirable. She had spent enough time working within the judicial system to hear sailors complain about their meagre salaries and how bounty hunters like her stole all the glory of the hunt, while they spent their lives wasting away at thankless tasks.

But the truth of the matter was it was cheaper for the Government to give a one time handout of a few thousand berries to a headhunter than it was to feed, equip, and pay a full-time naval recruit. As long as the number of pirates in the East Blue was manageable, the penny pinchers at Mariejois weren’t likely to change the annual budget anytime soon.

So what was Grand Line tech doing out in the East Blue?

They skulked deeper into the city, stepping over mounds of rubble and skeletonized buildings. To Kuina, the destruction seemed greater than a mere fire—it looked like a bomb had gone off. The streets were littered with the broken glass of a thousand shattered windows, the streets pockmarked and smoldering, grey smoke making the air shimmer and haze. A terrible stench rose from the city, testing Kuina’s intestinal fortitude, and making Elizabeth have to stop once more to retch.

Then they turned a corner, and somehow it got worse.

There, in out in the open, were the bodies of the dead stacked into piles, bloated and rotting in the midday sun. They lay in front of a mangled corpse that had been nailed high on a surviving concrete wall like a martyred prophet of some terrible deity. Even at a distance Kuina could see the melted gold encircling the forehead of the displayed body. Written below the remains in red letters a foot high was the message: Death to tyrants.

“Is that...Is that their king? ” Elizabeth gasped.

Cautiously de Gris approached, not caring that her two subordinates stayed well back. With clinical detachment she made a quick study of the bodies before turning her attention squarely to the crucified corpse.

The desecration of the dead left Kuina horrified and numb, and she had to turn away. She wasn’t naive enough to be ignorant of the horrors of war. She herself had killed dozens of men, and sent dozens more to their deaths. But there was no honor or glory in such mutilation. Kuina doubted most of them were even combatants. No one with a shred of warrior’s pride would condone the slaughtering of innocents.

Beside her, Elizabeth seemed equally perturbed. Between her hat and bandanna it was impossible to gauge her expression, but her hands twitched spastically as she stood rooted in place. Her eyes never left the bodies, and every few seconds she would make a strangled noise, as if trying to speak, but was unable to form any coherent sentences.

“Can’t stomach your own dirty work?” Kuina muttered.

Elizabeth swung toward her. “You think we —”

In the distance, Kuina heard the soft click of a hammer being pulled back. She moved on instinct, grabbing the front of Elizabeth’s shirt and pulling her to the ground. Her indignant yelp was drowned out by the crack of a pistol shot striking the rubble behind them, followed by a second and a third, sending up a cloud of dust where they had been standing just a moment ago.

Belatedly, Kuina remembered that Elizabeth was carrying bombs. An entire backpack full of highly flammable, explosive, homemade bombs of questionable quality. Twisting as they fell, she cushioned the smaller woman from the brunt of the impact with her own body. As soon as they hit the ground Kuina rolled on top of her so an errant shot couldn’t set off an explosion that would blow them all to pieces.

At the first shot de Gris whipped from the body of the king, firing her pistol once in the direction of a hollowed out factory. For a moment Kuina didn’t move, but no further shots came.

“ Geooff, ” Elizabeth said, her voice muffled. Slowly Kuina obliged, scanning for more enemies with her sword in hand as the other woman struggled to her feet.

“Out of the street,” de Gris barked. “We’re sitting ducks out here in the open.”

Hurriedly, they did as she said, hiding behind the cover of charred beams of timber and mounds of rock and rubble. There were more bodies, more splashes of rusty red, but these it seemed had been left undisturbed. If there were any survivors, they didn’t stay long enough to find them.

After a minute or so of silence, Elizabeth said bluntly, “You’re bleeding.”

“Huh?” Kuina looked down, and sure enough, she had cut through the sleeve of her jacket, causing blood to trickle from the back of her arm. She hadn’t even noticed the wound, but now that she did it began to sting, not deep enough to cause any real concern. “Must have been all that glass.”

“Bind it,” de Gris ordered. “Don’t give the enemy anything to track.”

Before Kuina could do as she said, Elizabeth was by her side with a roll of linen bandages taken from her bag. Wordlessly Kuina rolled up her sleeve and let her wrap the wound with shaking hands. Elizabeth took a moment to judge her handiwork, nodding once sharply to herself, before looking up at Kuina. There was no word of thanks shared between either of them, but Kuina thought for the first time Elizabeth saw her for who she really was, instead of some random stowaway brat she happened to be traveling with.

“That wasn’t our work back there,” she muttered, before looking questioningly at de Gris. “Was it?”

Aria de Gris pulled a small metal disk from the inside of her coat, holding it up for inspection. The silver metal was scorched black and warped after exposure to extreme heat, but Kuina thought she could see the faintest outline of an insignia etched upon it.

“That’s Callen’s mark,” she said, before adding for Kuina’s benefit, “he’s the one Betty put in charge while she was gone.”

“So he’s dead,” Elizabeth said.

“Not necessarily. It’s possible someone got ahold of his uniform, just like it’s possible that man wasn’t the king.” de Gris tucked the metal back into her pocket. “That message was made to look like it was written in blood, but wasn’t. Someone has gone out of their way to make the Revolution look like butchers. Wholesale destruction like this benefits no one—no sane ruler destroys the economic center of their country without exhausting every other option available to him, even when attacked by outside forces. Tolouse won’t be blamed for the fires.”

“We had their king captured anyway. Someone else must have ordered the bombardment.” Elizabeth said. “The marines, maybe? I haven’t seen any of their ships.”

De Gris shook her head. “The local marine base has been tied up with unrest on the Venn Islands and pirate raids to the north. They shouldn’t have the manpower available to overthrow the Army once we dug in, especially with civilian support. That’s why Betty decided to attack now in the first place.”

“Then who—?”

De Gris held a hand up for silence. Kuina’s grip around her sword tightened, but she didn’t hear anyone approach. Beside her Elizabeth slunk closer to the wall, hands more twitchy then ever.

Suddenly de Gris’s head shot up, and a moment later Kuina sensed the presence of someone above. She moved to strike, but de Gris’s hand clasped against her wrist, her grip like iron.

“You found someone to replace me already, Captain?”

Elizabeth yelped as a head popped over the edge of the roof, face smeared with grime and dirt looking down at them, a dozen braids swaying lazily in the breeze. With a laugh, she flipped down beside them, landing lightly on her feet.

She was a dark-skinned woman of about twenty, with the compact, powerful figure of a gymnast. A short spear was strapped to her back, the only weapon on her person. She gave an appraising glance at Kuina and grinned. “Nice mask.”

Kuina nodded, not having the slightest idea what was going on. The woman acknowledged it and turned back to where Elizabeth was half-cowering behind Aria de Gris, lazy grin growing even wider at the sight of her. “How’s the weather down there?”

“Fuck you.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Liz.”

“Enough,” de Gris said, stepping between them. “How did you find us?”

The woman shrugged. “The Army saw Betty’s ship sailing into port and sent a group of us to make sure she made it in okay. I happened to see Dara doing her thing with the cannons, and she told me what direction to go in from there. I heard the shots by the massacre site and figured it was probably you.” She jutted a thumb in Kuina’s general direction. “Who’s the new kid? Did you pick up another stray?”

“Less ‘picked up’ and more ‘had foisted upon’,” de Gris said. She let out a stream of cigarette smoke to cover her sigh. “Camille, meet Kuina. Kuina, Camille Salyor. And now with those pleasantries out of the way, would you kindly tell us what the hell is going on on this island? Where’s the rest of the crew?”

Camille grin faded. Now that the surprise had faded and Kuina had gotten a better look, she noticed that it wasn’t just Camille’s face that was dirty. Her shirt, which looked to have been white at one time, was stained a uniform greyish color, marred by scorch marks and accented by darker splashes of dried blood. There was an ingrained smell of smoke that cut through the acrid city air, and despite her cheerful air her eyes were bloodshot and tired.

“They baited us, Captain,” Camille said. “They let us take the city, feigned weakness until Dragon left, then bam! ” She punched a fist into her open palm for emphasis. In the distance was the rumble of cannonfire, causing Camille to anxiously look skyward.

“I need to get you to Oldtown,” she said. “Come on.”

De Gris let her take lead, and together they left their meagre cover. Kuina followed last of all, not sure what she was supposed to think or how she was supposed to feel. It was clear the Revolution was just as shocked and appalled as she was by the devastation, but did that mean that they weren’t the ultimate cause? De Gris said herself that no sane king would set fire to his own country, and no army would string up their own nobility for all the world to see. With the navy occupied elsewhere, who did that leave? And what, if anything, did the metal de Gris found prove?

Instincts honed by a decade hiding in the shadows told Kuina to run and never look back. This was not her war, and the citizens of Tolouse were not her people. She couldn’t become the world’s greatest swordsman if she got herself killed in some backwater East Blue town no one had ever heard of.

The rest of her, the part that was stubborn and bullheaded enough to defy her father’s wishes to continue her path as a swordsman, needed to find out who was responsible. What she would do with that information...Kuina didn’t yet know. But there was a pile of unavenged souls howling in the back of her mind, men and women who she’d never met, but could never forget.

They had walked maybe a quarter of a mile dodging patrols in military garb and guardsmen when Camille suddenly stopped. With a quick glance to make sure they weren’t being watched, she walked to the edge of the street and kicked in a sewer grate. Without a second thought, she jumped inside.

Beside Kuina, Elizabeth blanched. “You can’t be serious…”

But obviously she was. Pausing only to douse her cigarette de Gris followed, leaving Kuina and Elizabeth looking down into the darkness. They shared a skeptical look, Elizabeth saying what they were both thinking:

“Well fuck.”

Without any further complaint, she clambered down into the hole, Kuina following shortly behind, taking care to replace the grate. The sewer wasn’t high enough for any of them except Elizabeth to stand upright, and the only light came from the grates and the meagre flame of de Gris’s lighter. Filthy water came up over the tops of Kuina’s boots, and for the first time she was grateful that they were waterproofed.

“The trouble started almost right after you left,” Camille said in a low voice. “We received a message that the army had arrested prominent members of the dockworker’s union as suspected traitors for helping the rebellion, and unless we came willing to trade the king they would start executing people.”

De Gris grunted, “They weren’t wrong. Betty said her first contacts came through the unions, and the dockworkers were how she stockpiled supplies. But a king for some laborers isn’t exactly a fair trade.”

“That’s what we thought, but there was no harm in trying to negotiate a better deal, or at least that’s what Callen thought. He took a group to parlay with the army, and decided to bring the king along as a sign of good faith—”

“ Idiot, ” de Gris said under her breath.

“—and that’s when someone decided to just bomb...everyone. Us, the general negotiating for the army, the bloody king ...the whole block, just up in smoke.” Camille shook her head. “I knew it was a bad omen when the wind shifted. Felt like the air before a Grand Line squall, I knew they wouldn’t be able to put out the fires.”

“Sounds like a firestorm. No wonder the whole city’s gone to hell,” de Gris said. “I take it that’s when they cut communications?”

“Yes, and by the time we were able to organize, rumor had spread that we were the ones to start the bombings. We’ve been fighting the citizens who oppose us, trying to evacuate the ones who believe, keep the fires down, and delay the army all at once. It’s like...it’s like they know what we’re doing before it happens. They’ve anticipated all our moves and had counters ready before we have even decided a course of action.”

De Gris mulled over her words. “The king wasn’t popular. Do you think Tolouse officials did it?”

Camille looked up at her captain helplessly and shrugged. “At this point, I’m not sure what to believe.”

xxx

They emerged from the sewers into chaos. The streets of Oldtown bustled with activity from Revolutionaries and civilians alike. It lived up to its name well, ramshackle old buildings pressed together between too-narrow streets, with shacks and shops squeezed in wherever there was room. Dogs, chickens, and pigs roamed freely, rooting through piles of trash for food. Many of the children Kuina saw went barefoot.

The smell of smoke was stronger here, but it seemed that the combined efforts of the Revolution and their allies had fought back the worst of it. The dividing lines were clearly marked—streets blocked by barricades of furniture and debris cut Oldtown off from the rest of the city, the army on one side and the Revolution on the other. The only safe way in or out was through the sewers. With the help of urchins and criminals who knew those waterways as well as they did the streets above, the Revolutionary Army had managed to defend them well enough to make any government force think twice about using them for an attempted sneak attack. Not when it was easier to simply starve them out.

De Gris was immediately summoned by Revolutionary leadership, leaving the rest of the group to their own devices. For a brief moment Kuina realized she was free. Without de Gris’s sword or Lyudmila’s crossbow hanging overhead, there was nothing to keep her from fleeing. It would be child’s play to get lost in the chaos and leave the Revolution behind her once and for all.

Kuina was immediately ashamed of herself for even considering such a thought. A true swordsman didn’t break a promise freely given, no matter how distasteful they found it to be. She wouldn’t tarish her honor by running now.

Besides, everything about Tolouse stunk like two-day old fish left out in the sun. If she hadn’t seen it with her own two eyes, she wouldn’t have believed the mass of destruction had been done by anyone other than the Revolutionary Army. But seeing their surprise firsthand, and how hard they worked to protect a city that at this point mostly wanted them dead, was something she couldn’t ignore.

It was an uncomfortable thought that distracted from the task at hand. Kuina almost didn’t notice Elizabeth and Camille whispering fiercely to one another. Shaking her head a little to clear it, Kuina edged closer so she could hear what they were saying.

“You’re going back out there?” Elizabeth said. “ Now? ”

“It’s not that bad, Liz. If this were the Grand Line, we’d be done for by now, but these are still East Blue troops, and bad ones at that. I’ll be fine.”

“If they’re so bad why are we getting our ass kicked?” she spat back.

Camille didn’t have an answer for that. “Look, the rest of the crew is hanging out at the market, I’m sure the captain will go looking there after leadership is done talking with her. I’ll be back with Dara by sunset, but I’m not going to let myself be trapped in some prison made of stone and wood when there’s fighting to be done.”

“I can fight,” Kuina said.

The both looked up at Kuina as if just remembering she was there. “I like your spirit, friend, but I’m not going to take responsibility for the life of someone I’ve literally just met,” Camille said with a weary smile. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Captain would literally murder me, and I enjoy living too much to take that risk.”

“She’s pretty good with that pig sticker of hers,” Elizabeth admitted grudgingly.

“All the more reason to stay in case Tolouse forces try something underhanded. And if not, you’ll be fresh for when the fun starts tonight.”

“What’s happening tonight?” Kuina asked.

Camille shrugged. “No idea, but I’m sure the captain and Commander Belo will come up with something fun. It’s not in their natures to take a defeat like this quietly.”

With a quick wave, she bounded back to the sewers. After a moment, Elizabeth sighed and turned away. “Boss is going to be pissed . C’mon, let’s go make ourselves useful.”

They pushed their way through the crowded streets. It was shocking how many people were out in the street. Despite everything that was happening, people still needed to get food and find water. Men and women hauled chunks of wood and rock to add to the barricades, or stockpiled ammunition while children circled underfoot playing games and running errands. Shops were open for business, often bartering with goods instead of money. Hanging at the edges more predatory thieves and criminals hovered like vultures, waiting for a chance to swoop in.

There were hollow-eyed men in bandages, disabled beggars holding their hands out for charity no one could afford. Women whose clothes were stained in blood and screaming children separated from their parents.

The injured grew in number the closer they got to the market—a massive open air structure of wooden columns supporting a tin roof. Some were laid out in the street, their feeble moans echoing through the air and making Kuina shudder.

“I hate this,” Elizabeth muttered. She seemed to shrink in on herself, hiding her tiny frame in her oversized coat like some sort of turtle.

“Hate it?” Kuina said. “Isn’t this what you people do? ”

“Not us. Not de Gris.” She shrugged her backpack higher on her shoulder. “We’re more of a...I don’t know...strike force, I guess. Get in, do a job, and get out. We don’t work much with the regular army. We don’t have enough people for that.”

“And what was your job here?” Kuina asked, curious.

“Capture the king. If our ship hadn’t been damaged, we would have stuck around for all this.”

Elizabeth kicked a piece of rubble for emphasis. It bounced across the threshold of the market, and they both came to a slow stop. Individual shops and stalls had been cleared out and been replaced with dozens upon dozens of cots upon which the injured lay. A handful of men and women went from bed to bed with stethoscopes or bandages or little cupfulls of water. The smell of blood and death and burnt flesh radiated outward. Kuina could taste it in the back of her throat every time she took a breath.

One of the women making rounds caught sight of them. Her eyes lit up in recognition and she carefully made her way over. Kuina looked down at Elizabeth questioningly, and she said, “That’s Clara. She’s our ship’s doctor.”

Clara was a heavy set woman of about thirty-five with a wide, guileless face that seemed made for smiling. Her most striking feature was a head full of bright copper hair she had tied back in a short tail. Despite wearing surgeon’s robes that were smattered with blood and gore that was not her own, she somehow managed to look delighted at the sight of Elizabeth.

“Welcome back! Oh, you have no idea how much I wish I could give you a great, big hug right now. How are you doing? Where are the others? Oh, bless my soul, I’ve forgotten my manners,” she exclaimed, turning to Kuina. “My name’s Clara Cross, it’s so good to meet you. Are you traveling with Aria or Betty? Have you been hurt? I could—”

“I’m fine, thank you, Doctor,” Kuina said, taken aback by her determined cheerfulness. “And, um. My name’s Kuina.”

“She’s with us,” Elizabeth added. At the prospect of being hugged she had taken a large step backward. “As for the rest—”

“Dr. Cross, we need you!” a man shouted from the other side of the market. “Jal’s hemorrhaging and we can’t get it to stop!”

Clara’s head snapped to attention. “I beg your pardon, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“How can we help?” Kuina asked, feeling suddenly help less at all the pain and destruction that surrounded her. But Clara either didn’t hear the question or chose to ignore it as she hurried back into the makeshift hospital. Beside her, Elizabeth seemed equally lost.

“I fucking hate this.”

And at that moment, Kuina couldn’t blame her.

xxx

Kuina quickly realized that the worst thing about war was waiting. Waiting for the fight. Waiting for news. Waiting for orders. She had been on Tolouse for only a few hours, and she was sick of it. Elizabeth was at least able to be useful , handing out her stock of explosives like they were candy and ushered away to where she could make more. As members of Belo Betty’s ship trickled past the barricade in twos and threes, word got out that Kuina was not actually a Revolutionary. Because she was not one of theirs, the Army wanted nothing to do with her, and the locals shunned her for the same reason.

Her hands itched for the chance to fight, to take her frustrated, impotent energy on someone who truly deserved it, but at this point Kuina had no idea who that was. And without solid proof one way or the other, she was stripped of her most useful skill when it was needed most.

In the hospital tent, at least, no one cared who Kuina was or where her allegiances lay. She knew nothing of medicine past basic first aid, but that was enough for Clara to put her to work fetching water, washing soiled linens, seeing to minor wounds so the limited medical personnel could focus on the more seriously injured.  

The burn patients were the worst. At least a sword killed swiftly; a burn could leave it victim in agony for days before killing them, and with pain medicine in short supply they would often feel every minute of it.

Kuina was joined by yet another member of de Gris’s crew, a grim-faced girl who introduced herself as Danielle before asking for Kuina to call her Danny. She had the heavy, calloused hands of a workman and a hachimaki around her head that identified her as the shipwright who stayed behind to make repairs on the ship. With those repairs now complete, she was just as stuck as Kuina, waiting for her next job.

“Didn’t they want you building up the barricades?” Kuina asked as they went out for more water to boil. “Seems that would be a good place for a carpenter.

“You’d think, but the locals told me to get lost. Half of them blame us for what’s happened, the other half think they can do better. Last thing we need right now is more infighting, so here I am meeting my new crew mate instead.” Danny smiled down at Kuina. “You wear that mask all the time? Doesn’t it get uncomfortable?”

“I’m used to it,” Kuina said. She paused a moment as she stepped around two men arguing over the price of rice. “And I’m not really joining the crew. I’m just traveling with the Revolution until I can get to the Grand Line.”

“Smart woman.”

Kuina looked up in surprise, but Danny kept going on as if she’d made a comment about the weather. There was no bitterness or anger in her tone to indicate she regretted her own decision to join the Revolutionary Army, or any disgust that Kuina didn’t want to stick around. Only the simple statement of fact.

Smart woman.

She noticed Kuina gaping and raised an eyebrow. “Look at the hellhole we’re in. Only a crazy person would dedicate themselves to this day after day. I’d jump ship myself, but I was dumb enough to tagged for a bounty.” Danny tapped the edge of Kuina’s mask. “Shoulda wised up like you. Now I’m stuck.”

“I am...so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I made my choice of my own free will. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but no one forced me. That’s more than I can say for some.”

Kuina slowed to a stop. “The Revolutionary Army forces people to join them?”

Danny snorted. “Let me put it to you like this: Do you think any of the people here can ever go back to their normal lives once this is done?”

Given her own experience the words shouldn’t have been a surprise, but they somehow left Kuina dumbstruck. All around her were hundreds, if not thousands of men, women, and children. Most were not actively fighting. Most had been trapped by the barricades and the fires. Most had not wanted...this.

Even if the Revolution was somehow victorious, what did their futures hold? Even if they could fight back against the Justice of the World Government, the rest of the city were turned against them.

It would be a bloodbath.

Calling back behind her as she walked back to the hospital tent, Danny said, her voice a dire warning,

“Be careful they don’t get you, too.”