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whateverisbeautiful · 3 months ago

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♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#21: The Getaway Plan (1.03)

gif cred: @nat111love

I love how Rick is the only man Michonne happily lets take over. He’s the only one she’ll ever defer to and trust to go with his way over her own. It’s why she never even second-guessed his escape plan. But then, y'all, Rick's getaway plan threw Michonne and me for a loop😢...

So once he’s alone in the apartment, Rick gets right to work laying out everything he needs for this getaway plan. I like how he always keeps all his secrets in the couch cushions. And both times the stuff he has inside the couch has so much to do with Michonne.

Rick is thorough with it laying everything out like paddles, wire, and a consignee jacket, going over maps, writing out stuff, and drinking to numb the fact that he’s also making a plan that means he may never see Michonne again after this. 😢 But I love this scene of seeing him so determined to figure out how to save his wife and get her safely home.

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Then we see Michonne sitting at lunchtime with the consignees and it is a drab set up I must say. Like the area was giving prison yard. And it makes me sad to think this is how Rick spent so many lonely lunches for years.

As Michonne eats, she sees Rick coming over in his CRM uniform, which is all she’s seen him wearing thus far. I feel like it illustrates how the CRM has a constant hold on him.

Since Richonne can always communicate without words Michonne immediately knows Rick is coming over here to give her a note.

She puts her plate away and then casually walks pass him as he slips a note in her hand and of course, they do the pass off smoothly because they’re just a well-oiled machine like that. 👌🏽

Part of me was like wouldn’t it sorta be odder to the other soldiers if the two don’t acknowledge each other at all when they pass each other considering their story is she saved Rick from an attack? But they’re not taking any chances I guess. And the way Richonne can’t be subtle about each other it’s probably for the best they just walk on by. 🙂

gif cred: @nat111love

When Rick walks off after passing the note he takes a breath and even looks teary because if all goes according to his plan that really was his last time being able to see and feel his wife - another final hand moment like how their last real moment side-by-side in TWD was a hand moment. 🥺

I know right now Rick thinks this is for the best but it also has to be so painful for him knowing that he’s about to be without her again. And knowing Michonne doesn’t even know that this technically would be their last moment together is just...☹️😢

Michonne reads the letter as we hear Rick’s fine voice say what’s inside it. He starts by saying, “This is it, tonight. We gotta move fast.” And I love Michonne’s little smile as she reads that. She fully trusts Rick to get them out of here and so she’s ready and willing to follow his lead with this…which is why what comes next is so heartbreaking.

gif cred: @nat111love

But first, we see everything Rick did to ensure Michonne would have the smoothest escape possible. It is so sweet that despite Michonne being super capable, Rick still wanted to take care of everything he possibly could for her. 😊 That’s a good man, Savannah, a good man. 👏🏽

As Rick’s walking in a tunnel he sees writing on the floor that says ‘Tell them I’m sorry I lied’ and it’s very intentional showing that because I feel like that is essentially what Rick will want Michonne to tell Judith (and RJ) after he lied to get Michonne out of this place.

Also, I once again need to note - Rick in all-black. ❤️‍🔥😋

gif cred: andy-clutterbuck

It’s interesting because while those words written on the ground should have been a clear sign to us viewers that a lie is afoot right now, eye fully believed Rick was really intending to escape with Michonne with this plan. So Michonne and I were very caught off guard when that wasn’t the case.

Rick tells Michonne all the details of where to go and what to do to escape, laying it out step by step to make it as easy as possible, and she’s following what the letter says.

And then my favorite part of this letter moment arrives when he says, “I love you.” 😍 Rick is gonna earn that Ultimate Loverboy title every chance he gets. It’s also sweet cuz he knows this could be one of the last times he gets to tell her. ☹️

gif cred: richone4life

I love that he always wants to be sure that if nothing else she knows he loves her. While his decisions right now are going to upset Michonne (and me 🙋🏽‍♀️), it is all being done because of how much he loves her.

And then I absolutely adore Michonne’s response to reading her husband say I love you in the letter. The sweetest. 🥰And that smile was an 'I love you back' from Michonne. Again, it really is so clear that he makes her feel so safe and loved and like they can truly pull this off together.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

(Side note: I love the softening of Michonne over the seasons in TWD and that Rick brought out her softest side. Like it makes so much sense that she had a rougher exterior when she was introduced in season 3 because being a woman in that world is so dangerous, especially a woman traveling alone for a long period of time. I can legitimately name about 8 woman characters in TWD who were SA'ed or at risk of that. and so as women, it probably feels like you have to hide any part of yourself that is softer just to stay safe. But as each season progressed, Michonne got to tap back into that part of her, especially as she found a true safe space in Rick. She knows how to be fierce and intimidating when she needs to be but with Rick her heart just melts like when she reads his letter with the escape plan and she sees that he wrote I love you)

Then I absolutely love the cute flirty delivery of Rick saying “...and I left you a little something” as they then do a perfect cut to Michonne slicing a walker with her katana. 👏🏽

Y’all, of course, Rick 'Man of the Year' Grimes would make sure Michonne didn’t leave here without her signature sword. The best. 😊

Once again I love Michonne’s proud smile as she’s about to take out more walkers only to realize Rick has already got it covered and tied them up for her. The world might be riddled with dead but chivalry is alive and well cuz of that man Rick Grimes. 👌🏽

And I’ll forever appreciate that Rick never treated Michonne like a weapon with a weapon. As the woman he values, he wants to take it upon himself to handle everything to make her escape and travel a smooth and successful process.

gif cred: @richonne4life

Rick’s also walking through the same spots Michonne is and it was clever to have his scenes intercut with Michonne’s because they really had me fooled, thinking they were both headed to the getaway boat - not realizing all his scenes are actually occurring ahead of time as he sets everything up for Michonne’s escape.

Normally I would be suspicious that something is up, especially cuz when is a plan ever that smooth but idk, me and Michonne just really believe in Rick Grimes i guess, so like her, I didn’t question anything lol.

gif cred: @nerd4music

I thought the complications might come once they got to the boat and tried to escape together or something, however Rick had us in for a sad surprise.

I honestly feel like had this getaway plan been given to Michonne by anyone other than Rick, her intuition would have sounded a few more alarms that maybe something is suspect with the plan. It was so smooth to get out, and I know part of it is because Rick sweetly made sure Michonne could walk right through with little to no hurdles but with how easy it seemed, Michonne might have been inclined to wonder how it could be this smooth to escape and yet Rick was trapped for years.

Cuz the way her getaway was going, it was looking like Rick should've been able to escape in time to be there for RJ’s birth lol. But Michonne trusted his plan wholeheartedly because she wholeheartedly loves and trust Rick more than anyone. That’s another reason why it’s gotta be so hurtful knowing that he knew she’d trust his lead and he used that to try to get her to leave alone. 😞

But still, I really like this whole escape scene and the intercut between the two. It felt like the way an escape scene should be executed in an epic love story because it was all still so rooted in Richonne’s love. And the parallel shots of their silhouetted selves walking through the tunnels with red and blue light were nice.

gif cred: @chaoticroad

So then Michonne makes it to the designated destination and seeing her smile in anticipation to see Rick makes me so sad rewatching and knowing he’s not coming.

gif cred: @richonne4life

She was really looking forward to reuniting with Rick here and heading home together. Her smile was giving....

But then that happiness just gets crushed. 😔

She calls out for Rick but he’s nowhere in sight. She looks suspicious when she notices a walker in a consignee jacket, which little does she know Rick planted there to fake her death.

Then, as she searches through the boat she finds another letter that just makes my heart break. 💔

gif cred: @nat111love

Rick's letter says, “I’m not coming. And if you don’t go, you’ll never get away and we both die here.” It’s painful knowing he’s basically like 'I’m the only one that should die here.'

Then I like that he mentions getting Michonne back to their daughter specifically when he writes, “The only way to get you back to Judith is that I stay here to make sure.”

gif cred: @nat111love

You can hear the sadness in the way Rick is talking out what’s in the letter, he knows Judith needs her mom and so even tho he needs Michonne too he’ll always try to choose his kids needing Michonne above himself. And then you really feel his emotions as he tells Michonne, “I love you forever.” 🥺

First of all; I absolutely love that he wrote that to her and that we now get to add Rick saying “I love you forever” to the many romantic things he’s told Michonne. It’s so heartwarmingly worded for him to want her to know that while this is essentially goodbye he will forever be in love with her even as they're apart.

gif cred: @nat111love

Then the most problematic part of the letter is Rick saying “If you love me, you’ll go.” 😓 And for so many reasons...

I know Rick means well but it’s weaponizing love to say something like that. He knows she loves him. He knows how hard it would be for her to leave him here hence why he had to lie to even get her to go along with the plan in the first place. And now he’s essentially attempting to make her feel like she doesn’t love him if she stays. When deep down Rick knows full well Michonne doesn’t leave people behind let alone the love of her life.

And if the roles were reversed Rick would never just leave her someplace that has her clearly trapped and miserable. But it’s been a minute, so maybe Rick got a little foggy on just how much he and Michonne are cut from the same cloth which means she would never leave him either.

gif cred: @nat111love

And just the 'if' gets to me cuz there is no if, Richard. That’s exactly why she can’t go. Because she loves him.

Saying that line puts Michonne in an unfair position. She either goes back home, just having to live with the knowledge that Rick is out there and hurting and her kids will never get to meet their dad who is alive and she’ll never even get to tell Rick about his son. Or she stays and has it be deemed a lack of love for staying. When again it’s the ultimate act of love for her to stay in this place and still fight for Rick even when he doesn’t think he’s worth fighting for.

I remember one of my thoughts when I first heard this letter was "What did Rick want Michonne to tell Judith?…like should she say 'yeah, I found your dad. He’s alive but he’s never coming home so let’s just move on and live our lives??'" That was never gonna be an option. But I guess he’d want her to tell Judith and RJ what he saw in the tunnel - “I’m sorry I lied.”

gif cred: @taiturner

I also had this moment of wondering - why does Rick seem to think leaving him or moving on from him is so doable? And then it hit me that it might be because he’s had it happen before. 🥺

He was in a coma for just a few months and by the time he saw Lori again she was pregnant with his best friend's baby and his best friend was fully playing house with his wife and son.

But Michonne cannot be compared to the wife and BFF of Christmas past.

No, now Rick has a wife and bff rolled into one who hasn’t moved on from him for almost 8 years so she’s def not about to move on from him now.

It’s almost like Rick doesn’t think this relationship is an equal win. An equal gift. He understandably feels extremely lucky that a gem like Michonne is his wife. She’s the ultimate treasure to him and brings his life so much value. It’s harder for it to hit him that he is a special treasured gift to Michonne too. That she needs him and feels safest with him and can’t ever move on from him the same way he feels about her.

Plus, this isn’t just a wife's mission, it’s a mother's mission for Michonne. She’s doing this for her kids too. Which takes this to a whole other level. What Rick doesn’t know is when he tells her to go, Michonne also hears the voice of their sweet daughter saying mom go get him and bring him home.

She hears the adorable voice of RJ confirming that Michonne would do anything for them and their dad.

And she hears Carl on his deathbed saying she has to be strong for Rick and Judith.

That’s running through her head always I’m sure and motivating sacrificing time with her kids to bring their father home. She’s not letting her kids down.

When Rick tried to get her to leave without him he didn’t just get in the way of the mission she has for herself and for him but for their kids and that’s when you’re going to get a pissed Michonne because now you’re interfering with what the kids need which is both their parents.

And no one stops this mother from doing what needs to be done for her kids, not even Rick. It reminds me of The Distance and how that also was Michonne on a mission to provide what her kids needed.

So it was already so sad to see Michonne alone realizing she’d essentially been duped into leaving without Rick after trusting him and his plan wholeheartedly - but then to see her have to be confronted with this idea that Rick thinks the way she can best show her love is just to leave him behind was just such an added layer of painful.

Michonne makes my heart hurt seeing how sad this all is making her. She truly looks shocked, hurt, and heartbroken over this. And understandably so. After everything she’s been through there’s no way it ends like this.

The acting Danai does is great at this moment as all Michonne can do is stand teary-eyed and repeatedly shake her head with silent bewilderment that Rick would even pull something like this when the Rick she knew would never.

gif cred: @nat111love

I think something important to note is that while Michonne is the first time Rick’s had a wife who can protect herself, Rick still absolutely feels like it is his job to protect her. Like yes her competence and capability means he can rely on her and lean on her more than his former partner but that doesn’t mean Rick ever would take a backseat to being his wife’s protector. He still wants to keep Michonne safe just as fiercely as had she been someone more defenseless.

We see this throughout the main series in the way Rick always looks out for and checks on Michonne and panics whenever he thinks she’s in danger.

Again, she’s not a weapon with a weapon to him. He loves and respects that Michonne is strong and a leader, and he also knows that doesn’t mean she’s incapable of being harmed, especially around the CRM. So it is one of his biggest goals to protect her and keep her alive even if she’s capable of doing that herself. As competent as Michonne is, she does need him and feels most safe with him and Rick takes that seriously.

The way it caused conflict in TOWL tho is Rick became so hyper-focused on protecting her that he almost started to treat Michonne like a fragile sculpture that could break at any moment and he started acting like it was only up to him to keep the sculpture intact even if it means leaving her out of the loop and breaking her heart. Which seeing him pull this just had me like...

Rick knows Michonne is strong but he stopped believing that her strength and his strength and especially their strength together could be a good thing - it just makes them a target hence his actions that were so steeped in fear.

It’s like he overcorrected and while many just see Michonne as some powerful force rather than a person with vulnerabilities, Rick started mainly seeing her as potential vulnerable prey for the CRM rather than a person who also should have a say in how the two of them proceed.

With Rick's beautiful letters that he’d been writing to Michonne the whole time he'd been away, it’s almost like in an innocent way he got used to one-sided communication with his wife. But when Michonne reenters his life he has to relearn that this relationship is very much a two-way street where she can now weigh in and step in as well and he can't make executive decisions like this for her. Just like Rick...

And her choice is him and their family.

But also thinking about how he’ll later admit how scared he was seeing her return into his life, it hits my heart because I think part of Rick felt scared because he doesn’t think he’s still the same man who could protect her like before. He no longer fully believes he’s the fighter he knows she fell in love with. So he’s still going to try to save her of course, but he's doing so by sending her away rather than figuring out how to break away with her.

Fortunately, Michonne has enough belief for the both of them. And since Michonne went on this mission to find her Rick, she can’t possibly go home because the job is not finished. She found Rick but not her Rick yet, and so she knows she has to stay. And she also has to give Rick a piece of her mind without even saying a word. 👌🏽😅

#richonne #towl #reveling in richonne #1.03 #RIR (21)#the ones who live #twd towl #michonne grimes #rick grimes #rick x michonne #twol #michonne #rick and michonne #twd: the ones who live #twd #richonnefandom

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lemon-russ · 4 months ago

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-trips- ah fuck no I spilled character development juice all over him oh god oh no--

throwing out there this is pre-warped but post guilliman Cato, so I'm not using vanilla flavor character development I'm making my own bastardized concoction

Part 7/ ???

1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 7.5 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10

Cato Sicarius x F!Reader

(Cato POV 3rd person though)

CW: Vague alluding to sex and mild injuries, not much going on this time

Summary: Cato has to go talk to Dad about almost killing the family pet mortal Guilliman's favorite diplomat

word count: 2,041

He froze as she pressed her lips to his. This… was not like the other kiss. That one was frustration and need and honesty a little trying to make her stop talking. This was…. confusing.

He tentatively kisses her back, putting a hand on her hip. She tastes like salt from her tears, but also… sweet? And her lips are very soft. He didn't notice all this when he was just focused on getting inside her earlier.

By the throne, it is getting very hard to ignore the feelings strangling his dual hearts. He is above these distractions, he doesn't need to be doing this- not to mention he was directly going against the codex. So why isn't he stopping?

She pulls away and he follows her mouth for a second, leaning in before she gently puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He frowns. His face felt hot and strange, and his hearts felt like they started beating out of sync from each other. She was smiling at him, cheeks streaked with tears, and dirt and dust from the day.

The thunderhawk lurches a bit as it landed, and he held her steady- he was going to scold her about not buckling in but he remembered he was the one who unbuckled her. Whoops. He composes himself, standing and affixing his helmet quickly to hide whatever was happening to his face as the doors to the ship slid open to the hangar.

Guilliman stood there, looking concerned, face etched in a deep frown. “Ah, Captain, Ambassador- thank goodness you’re well,” he said, relief in his voice. The Ambassador looked a bit flustered, and he realized she’d forgotten they were landing soon. He almost forgot she was a little empty headed for a moment.

She smiles awkwardly, tugging his cape around her neck and shoulders a bit tighter. Emperor, she looked a mess. He grimaces at the bite marks he could see her trying to hide. Whoops again. He's not even sure how she could explain those, and hopes she can get into high collared uniform shirt quickly.

Guilliman reaches out a hand to help her down the ramp, leading her gently away. Cato follows a step behind, mind whirring and heart pounding. He still had the matter of having to make up for this mess to his father. He had only recently been returned to them, a miracle and savior to the Imperium. Cato was lucky enough to be an ultramarine and a legendary fighter, so he was often around him, and he dreaded disappointing his Primarch. He frowns nervously, watching his lord carefully lead the diplomat by a chivalrous hand, making sure she doesn't misstep in those ridiculous heels.

His father was particularly fond of the ambassador, hand-picking her for the role. When not off on a mission, she was usually somewhere near him, acting as an assistant- not like a serf, but like a secretary of sorts? He's not actually sure what she does outside of talking to people, he realizes. But she's always doing something, and orbiting Guilliman while she does it.

That's the whole reason he was sent to guard her, after all. As much as it was to force Cato to do something besides pestering him, Guilliman also wanted the renowned Cato Sicarius to guard his pet mortal.

And he'd failed. He supposes technically she did get home alive, but she was a bit battered, and she was taken prisoner and put in danger on his watch. He feels his stomach sink as he watches how his Primarch is fretting over the small woman, inspecting her injuries and looking like he was one stumble away from just picking her up and carrying her to the apothecary himself.

Fuck, he sighs to himself. On top of it all, he lost his mind and slept with her in a cave, while she was in mortal danger, and marked her up doing it. He prays to the Emperor that she covers for him about the bites and hickeys. She would, right? She likes him. He thinks. He thinks he might like her, maybe? He doesn't hate her as much as he thought he did.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, thankfully muffled by his helmet. This was the worst. All of this is why astartes aren't supposed to form relationships. Another rule he'd broken because of this stupid woman. And what did it get her? Pampered by his father, while he watches and dreads and feels like he might vomit with nerves.

They reach the apothecary and Guilliman leads her in, talking with the workers and then talking softly to her. She looks so tired. How long since she slept? He scowls at himself, he forgot baseline humans need sleep constantly. The apothecaries take her inside and Guilliman turns to him. “Sicarius. Shall we talk in my office?”

Cato lets out an anxious breath. “Of course, my lord.”

__________________________________

He stands in a clean uniform before his father's large desk, at attention. Guilliman stands behind the desk, frowning at him a bit. Emperor, he knew it, he knew he'd be punished for this-

“I'm sorry, Cato.” His father says softly. Cato blinks at him a few times. “M-my lord?” He asks, expression tightening in confusion.

The Primarch knits his brows and looks pained. “I put you in a situation alone that could have been very dangerous. Three men and a thunderhawk lost, and you had to handle it all alone. I should have sent backup, or sent her normal guards- I wasn't thinking and I endangered you. I'm sorry, son.” He said, walking to him and putting a large hand on his shoulder.

Cato's mind races. His father was… apologizing to him. That's so wrong- it almost feels blasphemous. “My lord, please, this was my fault-” he started, but Guilliman shook his head. “I won't hear it, Captain. You did well today, I'm impressed she only came back with superficial injuries. I'm thankful you both came back at all, after hearing the reports.”

He steps in front of Cato and holds his shoulders, smiling apologetically. “You have shown why you are the best the ultramarines have to offer today. Having you here gives me hope for this Imperium yet.” He smiles down at him warmly.

Cato is… well, flabbergasted. He swallows hard, blinking away something in his eyes- dust or dirt from that damned planet, of course- “Thank you, my lord. I… I live to serve.” He says nervously. Guilliman smiles and pats his shoulder, letting him go and walking back to the window. “You'll be allowed to spearhead the attack in the rebels, of course, and after that, I've decided to let you pick your next excursion yourself. No more babysitting, don't worry.” He chuckled, smiling back at him.

Cato smiled back, hearts feeling lighter with the dread lifted. Then it falters. No more guard duty. Which is of course what he wanted. Especially now that the ambassador made it weird. Then why did it make his chest tight that he wasn't going to see her more? He smiled a bit anxiously at the primarch. “Ah- it wasn't so bad. I got to play hero, and fight a lot, and bring your little diplomat back to you…” he says, shuffling a bit.

Guilliman chuckles, “You are a good sport, Sicarius. I appreciate you taking all your duties seriously, but don't worry, her normal guards will be back on duty. And for special occasions, I'll return to having Commander Titus accompany her.” He says with amusement.

Cato forces a smile. “Ah, Demetrian. An… interesting choice.” He says in a tight voice. Uhg. Demetrian Titus, one of his commanders. Always playing loose with the codex, but oh, everyone loves Titus. He grimaces internally. What does he care, it's not his problem now who watches her. Commander Titus is certainly capable enough of keeping her alive if he has help at least. Not that he cared. Ok, well, he did care a little, he'd already accepted that part. He swallowed, holding in a sigh.

Guilliman watches him and raises a brow, but as he opens his mouth to speak, Cato is spared by someone knocking on the office door. Guilliman smiles, “Ah, ambassador, come in.”

Cato tenses a bit. Should he just be professional around her still? Pretend everything is normal? Probably.

She smiles at the primarch, walking in and giving a small nod of respect. “My lord.” She greets, then glances at Cato, and her expression flashes with confliction too. She gives him a small smile though. “Captain.” She says softer. He nods back, keeping his expression professional. She's cleaned up, her hair fixed back into a neat style, unsurprisingly opting for a normal uniform and not a dress or some nonsense, as the collars hid the neck. Her face has some bandages and she's bruised, but she seems fine otherwise.

He sighs a bit, trying to focus on his father instead. Guilliman grins and walks up to her, patting her tiny shoulder. “I'm so glad you are safe. I am so, so sorry I put you in danger like that. Don't worry, from now on you're never leaving without at least 2 guards, preferably 3.” He says seriously. She smiles nervously up at him, “Ah- it's fine, really my lord, Captain Sicarius handled things, I was totally safe the whole time. Don't apologize…”

The primarch smiles warmly at her. “You are such a forgiving spirit, little one. Why don't you take the next few days off, get some rest and heal up a bit.” He offered gently.

She smiles, “I appreciate the offer, my lord, but I have appointments I can't reschedule. I'll be just fine.”

The primarch sighs, smiling and shaking his head. “Always dedicated to your work. Very well, but I don't want to see you lifting a finger while you're here otherwise.” He chuckles, patting her shoulder again and letting her go. “That's all I had to say, Captain Sicarius. Go, get some sleep and relax a bit.” He says kindly, taking his seat at his desk again.

Cato nods, turning to the ambassador once more before heading out. She gives him a tight, awkward smile. He returns it, then sighs and heads out.

She's going to be watched by Titus. He doesn't know why that bothers him so much. He dislikes him, sure, he's a pushover who bends rules for his benefit. But there's something else upsetting him. He feels that far too common lately knot in his stomach, frowning at himself. No, it's fine. He's better than these baseline human complications. He's Cato Sicarius. He doesn't care about who some mortal woman spends time around.

He takes all the swirling thoughts in his brain- a mess of complications that always haunt him when he's around his father- and shoves them all back into a mental box in his mind labeled WEAKNESS. He takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders back, and walks straighter down the corridors. He's Cato Sicarius, he does not get jealous about women. He does not get anxious about disappointing his father. He does not dwell on issues of the heart, and he definitely does not picture how important state diplomats would look sprawled in his bed. Box, box, all of you, in the box.

He takes another deep breath and puts on a cocky smirk. He runs his hands over the Talassarian Tempest Blade, marching to the hangar, ordering a serf to prepare his power armor and another to alert his men that they are going planetside to wipe out those rebels, right now, they have 5 minutes to be here or they'll be disciplined.

He lets out a deep sigh, smiling a wide, relaxed grin to himself, posture prim and aura confident. He is The Cato Sicarius, and he is simply the best at everything he does.

#hahahaha get anxiety NERD #warhammer 40k #wh40k #cato sicarius #cato sicaruis x f!reader #cato sicarius x reader #my work #wh40k fic

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gingerlurk · 1 year ago

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Lovers' Crest | Chapter 1: The Heiress

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian is off-kilter. This was an unusual job from the off, but it kept getting stranger.

He thought he would be picking up a spoiled little heiress. How she had ended up in the middle of an unsanctioned and bloody conflict, been taken prisoner, and held at an old empire sprawl, didn’t interest him enough to look into, frankly. But he was at least expecting a supplicant and willing thing that would fall to her knees and be grateful to be getting taken home.

Instead, it’s you.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), canon-typical violence, eventual smut/filth, post season 3, Reader is a rich runaway, also a badass, canon-typical violence, brief mentions of creeps with ill intentions, uhhhh please advise if there's more to add here thank you

A/N: Hi! I am completely new here. This is something I've been writing for myself to get out of a dire writing slump. But here, please enjoy. I thought it was going to end up being 12-15 chapters long, but nope (shocker). Completed on A03, I just got encouraged to share here. Also please note - to keep it low pressure for myself - I have taken almost no effort to research or fact check Star Wars canon, technical terms for ship mechanics, or space flight. But I think it still hangs together like the fun story it is meant to be (much like its inspiring text). Also I'm Australian, so the spelling is what it is. Thank you for reading!

Everything is blinding whiteness. White walls, white floors. Harsh white lighting strips disappear down endless corridors.

You wonder to yourself what it is about totalitarian thought that demands such sterility. It is colourless and uniform, you suppose. Even for a decommissioned military base, repurposed as a prisoner of war camp, the cold lonely veneer of the empire shines on.

The heavy restraints chafe at your wrists as you raise your arms, trying to shield against the glare. A rough hand tugs them back down.

‘Hey, hands in front, princess.’ The spittle-licked voice grates on you. Fine. You just want to get to a cell where you can think. Have a minute to figure some next steps. It can’t be much further.

But the hair has started to rise on the back of your neck. For some time now, your little party made up of you and your four-guard escort hasn’t passed an occupied cell. It’s like you’re in an entirely unused part of the facility. A tense inevitability settles in your gut.

One more turn and the spit-lick calls halt.

‘This place is as good as any, lads.’ He swipes his wrist against a random cell and you expect to be shoved in. But the four of them move with you.

‘What the fu—,’ you say as a hand cracks over your face.

‘It’s a lucky thing,’ the voice grunts over the sting ringing in your ears. ‘No timestamp was logged to the manifest for your release from processing, so you won’t be missed for a spell. This is a nice quiet spot so we can get to know you a little, princess.’

A white-hot rage simmers in your spine and you let it filter up into your brain to focus your senses. Hatred coils in your chest. You channel that to your limbs, breathing into the spaces where you’ll need strength and speed. Feeling prepared, you let the four of them crack gags and wait for a good moment.

A loud thump, five heads whip around, a laser blast turns the white shining walls red for just a moment, and chaos erupts.

‘Wh--!’ One of your scrubs drops to the floor, dead. The self-appointed leader stays in front of you, yelling at the other two to do something. They draw blasters and point as a dark and imposing figure swings around the doorway and, without pause, starts to take them apart. Fists and headbutts and a knee kicked in sends one sprawling. The other manages to get a shot off but it just plints off this… this knight’s armour? You’re not sure what you’re seeing.

The ‘leader’ has his blaster drawn, watching the fight, but is holding a rough hand to your shoulder, as if to keep himself between you and this attacker. Taking the opportunity, you swing the brace on your wrists around and clock him right under the jaw. As he reels, in one unified movement, you sweep a foot to help his descent to the ground and make to jam three rigid fingers into each of his kidneys, hoping to incapacitate.

But you’ve been thrown off by this turn of events as well and just miss the second sweet spot. He manages to lunge to his feet again and grabs you by the throat to hurl you to the floor. You scramble to your knees and look up at the asshole staggering about in front of you. He squares up. Fear snakes through you as you sit back onto your heels. He rubs at his jaw while swinging the blaster around to point at you, face thunderous.

‘Waste of a fuckin—’ But he’s cut off by the large hole that appears in his chest. He makes a ‘wuh?’ at it before toppling sideways, revealing behind him the strange figure, who has a gauntleted hand pointed at the space where your would-be killer’s chest used to be.

On your knees, you gaze up at your apparent saviour.

He’s dazzling. He seems to be built entirely out of armour, weapons and munitions. A large, angular helmet completes the look; its dark T visor regards you while fingers absently punch at the other wrist’s bracer.

‘Are you hurt?’ A deep, modulated voice questions you.

You reach up to poke at your tender cheek.

‘Nothin’ serious,’ you confirm, moving to your feet. When he steps forward, you work to not shy back, letting him lift your restrained wrists and scrutinise them.

‘I will be able to remove these on my ship. Come with me.’ Your knight turns away, beckoning you to follow.

‘Ah, afraid not,’ you say. You rock on your toes, waiting for him to turn back.

‘What?’ A voice like flint.

‘That’s not happening.’ You sniff.

He doesn’t turn but he doesn’t keep walking.

‘Do you want out of here or not, girl?’ A snag of anger but largely calm, like he kind of doesn’t care about your answer one way or the other but it has been quite an inconvenience getting here.

‘Of course I do.’

‘Then come with me.’

‘Can’t.’

Now he whirls and, hell, why is that so satisfying? He stalks toward you.

‘I am being paid well to bring you in alive and unharmed, but also by any means necessary. So, I am not above a use of force.’ That voice is doing specific things to your chest, and belly, and the apex of your thighs. ‘Come. With. Me.’

You push the dry mouth and racing heart to the side and lift your arms up, awkwardly showing him the underside of your restraints.

‘Afraid not,’ you repeat.

To his credit, he shuts up and looks, broad shoulders dropping some as he registers the issue.

‘Proximity lock,’ he mutters.

‘Proximity lock,’ you confirm. ‘Alive and unharmed, you said? Don’t reckon getting my hands blown off would count to that. Only getting these bad kids off via a control room or processing cell.’

‘These are outlawed.’ You stare at him.

‘This is an illegal pri—’

‘Yes, fine.’ He engages a holo map of the floor plan on the chunky piece of kit on his arm. Scanning.

‘This way,’ he brushes past you and strides on.

You take a moment to stare at the bodies littered on the floor of the cell, then lean over one of them. It takes some doing but you get what you were after and stand to turn down the corridor. You give a small yelp of surprise before almost bumping straight into the stranger’s chest. Hells how did he sneak up like that?

‘What are you doing?’ he says, teeth obviously gritted tight under that shiny helm.

You hold up your prize.

‘These bracers should open most of the general control rooms, if we get lucky enough.’

You want to believe his mouth has fallen open in surprise, eyes widened, impressed with you. But you can’t see a thing, not even your own smirking reflection.

You make a ‘let’s go’ gesture and the two of you move on.

You stroll along beside the hulking figure, glancing sideways every minute or so.

So, he’s being paid well to retrieve you, is he? That’s interesting.

Your earlier observation of the rows of vacant cells seems to extend to a lot of the base. How much of this place is actually in use? It increases your chances of finding an unattended control room, which is a bonus. You can’t wait to get these horrendous restraints off. Not designed for human wrists, the edges cut into your skin and inner divots scrape your bones. After using them just to take a swing at that leech, you’re pretty sure there’s bleeding.

You push the discomfort away and decide to say something.

‘Empty, isn’t it?’ That’s the best you got, is it? Hells.

‘It is at a little under a fifth capacity,’ he responds quickly.

‘Right.’ You fall quiet again. You’re almost grateful when the two of you round yet another turn and six guard helmets swivel toward you. Less awkward.

‘Hey! Stop!’ one yells. They each push off the wall they’d been lounging against and reach for sidearms.

Your companion gives you a hard shove back around the corner.

You stumble against the wall but right yourself. At first, you think it best to stay put. But the sounds of grunts and blows raining down draws you to the edge of the wall. Leaning around the corner to look, your mouth falls open in awe.

The man is a cyclone.

One goon has barely started reeling from a punishing blow when the next is being pulled into a deathly throw. Limbs are jerked and snapped back and forth and any blow one of them happens to land is shrugged off with so much ease.

It’s incredible to witness.

Fortunately you’re not so distracted that you don’t spot one of them, conveniently close to where you’re crouched, hurriedly trying to get a shock prod started. The poor sap is panicking as his brethren get decimated.

This is foolish, but you’re doing it anyway. You check that your ally is not looking – he isn’t, focused on driving a vibroblade somewhere soft and fatal – and sneak up to the guy’s back. You raise your arms and whip them down across his shoulders, wincing at the impact; it’s mostly ineffectual and you slink back.

He starts, turns, sees you trying to duck out of sight, and makes his advance.

‘Come ‘ere, little one,’ he spits as he rounds the corner, leering at you with some relish. You take timid little steps back until he’s fully in the hallway, and then you give him a devilish grin.

You wait for his lunge to grab at you and slide to your knees, ducking his pawing hands and spinning to make a 180 to finish behind him. As you pass his centre of gravity you shove your shoulder hard into his hips and he slams into the wall. Hopping to your feet in one fluid motion, you have your foot high and burying itself in his chin before he rights himself. In a stroke of luck, you manage to kick his helmet clean off in the same move.

His neck whips back and he gives a cry of pain, slumping on the wall. Just as he surges back to his feet, you’ve spun another pirouette and have the heel of your other foot ready to meet the bridge of his nose. It connects with a satisfying crunch matched a second later by the back of his skull smacking the wall again.

He wilts to the floor, moaning. You drop a knee onto his exposed neck, pull his sidearm from the holster and release one quick blast. He jolts and falls still.

You drop the pistol and listen. Grunting and crunching metal still echoes around the bend.

Now think, idiot. Get rid of the body.

These old places have those floor level garbage units, right? For the old, tiny droids that would roll around, hoovering up whatever. You edge along the wall, toeing at gaps and latch-looking things. Ah ha. Damn, what luck. The door pops open in one smooth motion. You drop to your knees and shove the dead weight with all your strength. He slides along the floor and flops into the space in the wall. You kick the blaster, broken helmet and abandoned shock prod in after him and nudge the door closed.

The sounds of fighting have stopped. You flop back against the wall and try to look meek and afraid. Either he rounds the corner and you’re safe, or one of the guards does and you’d like to try the same trick again.

It’s him to walk into view, taking in your stature. You put on an air of relief and peer back around the corner.

You whistle low.

‘Five against one, huh? You said you were being paid well and I sure hope that’s true.’ You dash off, eager to get out from under his watchful visage.

After a moment, he follows.

The Mandalorian feels off-kilter. This was an unusual job from the off, but it kept getting stranger.

An obscenely wealthy broker had approached looking to hire him to rescue a niece. Din Djarin did not do rescues. And he had said as much. But the price was something else, and the Razor Crest wasn’t getting new tilt suspension on his present takings.

Instead, it’s you.

He thinks back.

She was on her knees when the little skirmish ended. He hadn’t noticed the girl shift from the wall he’d first clocked her pushed back against, but when he dropped the third guard and spun to the head honcho, finishing him without grace, there she was. The bootlick he’d run through had tipped sideways to reveal his quarry seated against the gleaming white floor, looking up at him with a fading fear and emerging astonishment.

It was a sight.

Quarry is not exactly the right word, he reflects. Just another thing pushing him out of alignment. What does he call her? How does he think about her?

She’d understood the nature of those cuffs of hers, where had she picked that up? And she didn’t seem to shrink at all from his taciturn demeanour.

Then that second fight with that sorry lot. He would have sworn on the sacred forge itself there had been six of them. But when the fifth body dropped and he’d reared back to take the last to a blunt-force grave, the hall was still. He found the girl tucked around the corner where he’d shoved her, curled into the wall, hands awkwardly shielding her face. He was good at reading people and the act she was putting on dropped the moment she looked at his handiwork. Then it was nothing but amusement in those eyes.

She’d scrambled to her feet and hopped over the bodies, carrying on. Din had stared hard down the hall she’d apparently cowered in, nothing but blank walls and empty air.

Finally, finally, your wrists are released with a soft hiss. You look in dismay at the lacerations and bruises littering your skin and pull the jumpsuit sleeves over them quickly.

Your present company makes no indication he’s noticed, focused on the holo hovering over his arm.

‘There is an entrance to disused tunnels in the next section over. From there, it is not far to my ship,’ he says. ‘This way.’

This time, you follow without hesitating, eager to get away from this abysmal place.

Despite saying it wasn’t far, it is a silent, awkward walk out of there. You attempt a few turns at conversation, but each time he gives you a concise unpunctuated sentence that concludes questioning.

You’re mulling over the long, boring journey back to your home system – the ramifications of which you staunchly push to back of mind – when your terse rescuer’s ship comes into view.

You halt in your tracks, gazing up at the lovely, old gunship. Battered, bruised and brimming with elegant age. ‘Wow…’ you say softly.

He’s taken a few steps beyond you before registering your pause and turning back. You sense puzzlement and a strangely earnest pride radiating from the armoured visage. ‘Never seen one of these before?’ he asks.

You speak before you can stop yourself, ‘Oh I have,’ you breathe, and he startles a little. ‘Just not, not out in the world like this.’ Ah, shut up now. You look over at him and can sense the feeling of being deeply scrutinised. You shake off your reverie. ‘Well, shall we?’ You march with a light step past him as best you can.

You sense him following and, after a moment, hear light module beeping behind you as the Razor Crest opens itself for you. You temper giddiness and slow down so he can overtake to move into the hold first. You follow, looking around curiously, but keep it level before matching his path into the cockpit.

As you enter, he reaches up into a storage bin and pulls something down before turning to you.

He hands you a small med kit.

‘For your arms,’ he says simply. Ah, so he did see. Sees everything apparently. He says no more and moves to take the pilot seat, jabbing at controls.

You think nothing for it and drop down into a rear chair, using the console beside you to start laying out the contents of the kit, eyes lighting on the salve. You snatch it up and squirt a portion to lather over your cuts and grazes. You let a long sigh escape your lips as the miracle cream does its work.

It feels incredible. You even moan a little at the sensation.

Mind clearing, able to think a bit. You continue to clean and dress your hurts, deciding to just out with it.

‘Can I ask,’ you say with as much casual air as you’re able. ‘Just who did pay you to find me?’

Your escort doesn’t turn but lifts his helmet some. ‘I believe the job is from your uncle,’ he says.

Your mouth falls open before you can stop it. He’s actually done it, you think in wonder. But why now?

Thoughts tumble upon themselves in your head. You register that your companion hasn’t made any move to say more.

‘So who are you?’ you ask. The broad silhouette stops his work for a moment. He seems to be considering.

‘I’m just a bounty hunter,’ he murmurs. ‘You can call me Mando.’

MNext

#the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin #grogu #mandalorian and grogu #razor crest #mandalorian fanfic #pedro pascal #i dont know what im doing here #i just love the space tin man #and his green kid

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dolphin1812 · 1 year ago

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Cosette still plays! I love that her childhood is still present and respected; the image of Cosette making and wearing flower crowns while Valjean watches is so cute.

Unfortunately, this isn’t a happy chapter. That we start with Valjean being sad, then imprisoned in his own mind, is bad enough, but then the chain gang appears.

It’s telling that these men either look like corpses or are only vague impressions; the chain gang strips them of their personhood, making it seem as though they’re all part of a machine-like structure instead of individuals. Even the ill are cruelly bound. And the guards aren’t better, with none of the grandeur of idealized soldiers (or even nicely uniformed ones, like Théodule earlier). Their clothes are a mix of several outfits and are in horrible shape, and their authority is equally terrible. It’s a repetition of the parallel between Valjean and Javert, in a way. The guards aren’t materially well-off, but they have no sympathy for the prisoners. Instead, they revel in the little power they have.

It hurts to read, but I love how the light of dawn becomes menacing here, illuminating the horrors of the chain gang. On the one hand, the light reveals a deeply disturbing practice. It’s technically better than a lack of light for the men (sunlight being preferable to damp and rain), but that means that Cosette and the other bystanders are seeing this in detail, which is scary for them. On the other, that’s part of the point of the procession. It’s a spectacle, cruel to those involved and awful to bystanders. One person even uses it as a chance to threaten a child into behaving, implying that he will end up like them if he isn’t obedient. That horror is meant to scare the populace into obedience and make them feel better about themselves, as they at least aren’t at the level of those men.

And poor Valjean. It specifically isn’t a spectacle for him; it’s a memory. The detail that this route was meant to avoid royalty is so telling, underscoring how this was a show made to project authority to the people and not the rulers. It also keeps the rulers from seeing the worst of their policies, making their governing more comfortable.

And in case this isn’t sad enough, here’s the French for when Cosette asks if these are men and Valjean answers:

“—Père, est-ce que ce sont encore des hommes?

—Quelquefois, dit le misérable.”

This may be the most painful use of the book’s title.

And then when Cosette adds that she wouldn’t survive looking at one of those men in the face! And that Valjean prioritizes distracting her over his own distress, but Cosette’s actually trying to help him instead! This chapter is just so distressing.

Cosette’s question at the end still hurts because we know how difficult it would be for Valjean to answer, but I like that she wants to learn. It offers hope of change.

#les mis letters #lm 4.3.8 #jean valjean #cosette #this is so sad :(

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mommyofkittens · 7 months ago

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A Court of Fallen Heroes: Chapter 10 - The Bloody Blade

" What do you know of the Deadly Nightshade? " Aoife's voice echoed in the basement room where most of the palace's laundry was washed.

It was a small chamber, barely big enough for the five of us who gathered to change in the smelly uniforms of the palace guards. They reeked of fermented sweat and rusted iron, and the metal cuffs pinched your skin as you pulled them on. Kallus had the idea, thinking it would be much better if we covered our own scent not only with what was left of my potion, but with the unwashed stench of fae men.

" What would a blonde like you want with the Nightshade? " Nimue cringed, her thick lashes framing her lilac pupils perfectly. " It's deadly. "

The witch stood with her back straight as if it was nailed into the wall. Her lilac and herbs perfume wafted through the room like an aphrodisiac, overpowering the other, more disgusting scents. I move a little closer to her, the nothing in my stomach ready to spill up my throat at any moment, and take a deep breath. Not only did these clothes stink, but they were sticky and stained with God knows what.

" Did you touch it? " I ask her worriedly, looking at her smooth palms. " I hope you didn't put your hands in your mouth afterwards. "

Niven raises her eyebrows and leans into a corner, her oversized black shirt half unbuttoned, straining to tie a cord around her waist. Kallus is silent, only poking his head out from behind the curtain we have improvised to change in as much privacy as possible. The man looks at her questioningly, as if guessing what she's thinking, but his mouth remains tight.

" I didn't touch it. I was just asking about it. " Her plucked eyebrows rose up to her unwrinkled forehead, scolding us. " I happen to have it in my garden, I want to know if I should use it in my tea or not. "

The young woman looked like a deity poured down from heaven in the light provided by a few bitter candles. Even tired from a full day's work of washing the stinking clothes of the castle's inhabitants, her hair, tucked under that ugly hat, looked just as shiny, her complexion just as clean, and her blue eyes darkened by a few shades.

" We're breaking into a prison and you want to ask about tea? " Niven's smile spreads across her sweaty face. " Are you nervous? "

Aoife is silent for a while, looking at me, threatening me not to open my mouth, not to explain more than necessary. There was a glimmer of hope in her sky-blue eyes, a glimmer that I didn't want anyone to extinguish. I suspected that the maid who had witnessed the humiliation during dinner had already informed the blonde that Draegan had asked her back to his bed, but I didn't know that she knew I had been there and that I was technically supposed to take her place tomorrow night. The real problem was that she had no way of stopping him other than letting him fall asleep and sneaking out of the room untouched. I didn't even know what I was going to do tomorrow night, the thought left me completely cold and empty. I hoped he would see my naked body and squirm and then let me go. But Aoife might have a much better idea, one that we could both do in secret.

That pain in my chest comes back, as if my heart is detached from the surrounding organs and falls into an endless void. Both men looked at me tonight like a zoo animal: one with a pair of eyes that had killed me so many times, and one with a hope that brought me back. Eris had sacrificed another human for me. I had sacrificed someone else for my own goals, which I put above all else. That's not what I was supposed to do here, I wasn't supposed to kill them, I was supposed to save them. And yet the first innocent life had just been lost because of me.

" I'm stressed when we have to steal from the most dangerous, unpredictable, mad-man in the continent, yes. " Aoife puts her hands on her hips, perfectly hiding the fear she knows she wears on her body like a coat.

" Atropa Belladonna is deadly, in the right dose. " I explain, pulling those huge, man-made pants up my thighs. " If you use too little, it can cause paralysis, pain, vomiting, muscle cramps, all sorts of horrible symptoms. "

Nimue throws her fierce eyes at me and crosses her hands on her chest. " You finally made your homework? Is it from those books you've been stealing from me? "

" I borrowed them and yes, I learned from them. A lot actually. "

The witch's smile spreads like a serpentine river across her thin, almost proud face. " I knew you were a good thief. But I wonder how you got that map. I wonder what you paid. "

Even though we had become close in a very strange way, there was this... awkwards connection between us, laced with bitterness, a hint of animosity and trust. Nimue still looked at me like I was about to grow a second head. But the good things had come after she'd saved us from Thaibar that day, when all the guards were looking for Aoife. I still wished I knew the limits of her powers, what kind of witch she was, if there was such a thing, what she could do, and if I could learn more from her than just potions and rituals, if I could steal some raw magic.

Niven glares at me, holding the huge helmet under her arm, then drops her head. She knew about Eris, about him catching me with the map in Draegan's bedroom, and she also knew that I'd met him to take it back. She also knew what he'd asked for in return, and she knew that I approved. But I gained so much more: crucial information. Eris had told me that the prison still wasn't on very good terms with Draegan, and that they didn't approve of his leadership over the kingdom, which is why it would have been easy to get in, based on the fact that they wanted to get rid of certain prisoners he had also sent there. In addition, Eris had secretly stamped the letter Kallus was holding, requesting the release of a prisoner for a short period of time.

Little did he know that the ultimate price was a woman's life. Outrageous or not, part of me was glad that someone had gone to such lengths to keep me out of Draegan's fingers. The other part felt a dark cloud over her head, like an impending curse about to break in her temples: she would pay for the death of an innocent life. I would have gladly paid anything if I knew it would have saved me a quarter of this suffocating feeling.

I don't know what I was dreaming about, I don't even know why I had such high expectations. Whenever I read romance novels and the protagonist mentioned that she was breathless when she saw him, I preferred to roll my eyes and say that she was easily impressed. I had a bad habit of thinking that I would be harder to surprise, that I wouldn't be so easily struck by the beauty of anyone, male or female. All my life I have been firmly convinced that there is no such thing as a perfect human being, that this concept is really in the eye of the beholder, the one who describes or paints a muse who for him or her represents the sum total of subjectively excellent qualities.

That's what I like to think about all these characters I read about in fantasy books. From the first day I started working at the palace, I had noticed how flawless these supernatural creatures could look: fine complexions, shining like porcelain, pointed ears, silky, shiny hair, dazzling eyes, full or thin lips, tall, athletic, well-shaped bodies, with roundness where it belonged and an appropriate amount of muscles, with a slightly icy aura about them, as if they refrained from blinding us with their natural light.

I got used to all that. Then came Eris Vanserra. Nothing but cool and cheeky flirtation, wide grin, fiery brown eyes full of promises, high cheekbones with thin, tight lips, slim waist with just the right amount of muscle in the places that mattered. He smelled of nutmeg and the fires we made in the forest of Thaibar, and he dressed exactly as an heir to the throne should. He was unexpected in every way. The misunderstood anti-hero turned pale when he returned the map to me and I told him I trusted him enough to explain why I needed the map. I don't know if it was the fact that I had the courage to put my trust in his hands that shocked him the most, or if it was my idea to break into Hybern's prison to free one of its most dangerous prisoners. But I could feel his temper change, as if for the first time someone had placed their life in his hands and he was afraid not to break it.

Well, I was impressed with Eris and what he did to protect me as best he could. But the winged one had me head over heels after I saw him once. And my infatuation cooled as quickly as it came.

If I had butterflies in my stomach seeing Eris so close, Azriel made me hold my breath. No, literally lose it. And with my breath I lost my logic, my train of thought, forgot where I was and what I was doing, what I was saying. I felt no dopamine coursing through my bloodstream, just a tremendous desire to impress. A blanket of silence had settled around me at that moment, my ears were completely sunk in and all my attention was focused on him, my body was painfully numb and any emotion had been silenced. It was as if I was in that oasis I had fallen into for the second time a month ago, completely calm and at peace. Yet I had been as dumb as a virgin in front of the most beautiful man I had seen in two worlds. He spoke to me, but I ignored him. I didn't have a good enough sentence to say to him. I could have given him a sign, pulled him aside, asked him to help me.

I couldn't even look him in the eye. And I didn't want to. They melted and froze me in the few seconds I allowed myself that luxury.

He was so tall and imposing, so grandly contoured, painstakingly carved as if by two right, expert hands, merciless to those who might see him and be blinded by his beauty. He had a strong chin and a sharp jaw, lips full enough to be kissed if the opportunity arose, with a Cupid's bow cut roughly to perfection. All framed by wide, slightly arched eyebrows and thick, glossy black hair that grew slightly over the ears and high forehead. The piece de resistance were undoubtedly the eyes: hard, enigmatic, surprisingly gentle, yet agile and unforgiving, quick to take in every detail, like whiskey through a glass in a smoldering fire, like amber unraveling in the sun's rays.

Not to mention that I shuddered at the sight of his famous shadows. They weren't just shadows, they were more than that. They were like slippery tongues of darkness, rising and dissipating like smoke, concentrated at a particular point on his intensely forged body, playful and subtle, the more you looked at them, the more you realized that they were living elements, with a consciousness of their own, capable of inflicting wounds like any sharp knife. I could feel them studying me closely, as if they wanted to take a close look inside my mind. They sniffed at me like guard dogs, eager to protect their master from any threat. Fear gripped me as I noticed them moving around my waist, where I held the dagger I had stolen in my dream. Fortunately, I retreated in time, or I fear they would have shreded my clothes there to see what I was hiding and how deadly it was.

I had decided by then, however, that I would not be approaching Azriel anytime soon. I didn't have the courage, not after seeing his monstrous wings rise like mountains from his back: black and violently muscled, with scars and bony fangs piercing painfully through the shiny wing membrane.

I don't know what I expected from him. The same protection Eris had offered me so quickly and without question? More attention? If I was the main character in this story and had to help this world, that didn't mean I was a beauty, that such an imposing man with so many other options would notice me. I sighed inwardly as I realized how ridiculous I was, trapped in my own fantasy with him. But I already knew he was taken. I knew his heart belonged to someone else, and there was no way I could compete with a beauty like Elain, even though I hadn't seen her yet and didn't know if I ever would. So, with an empty heart, I put aside whatever love subplot might have happened during my journey here and moved on.

Then, during dinner, when he looked at me so disappointed, so silent and angry, like a father who disagrees with his daughter's actions, I felt like the sky was cracking in my head. It was as if he was expecting me, a mere servant to do something, to save them. Did he realize that I didn't belong in this place?

I had still hoped that he would somehow save the day, as he had at the meeting of the High Lords, when he defended Feyre, or when he freed Elain, or when he saved Gwyn from Sangravah. I had waited for him to intervene when Draegan slapped the first handmaiden, when he invited the second into his bed, when he kissed me disgustingly, or when he killed the fourth. But none of that happened, and I returned his gaze just as sourly, allowing myself to watch him as disappointedly as he had studied me for minutes.

" Nimue, it doesn't make any changes to the plan if we know how Cyan got the map. " Kallus talks slowly, pulling me violently from the thoughts that had gripped me like ivy. " We should go over the details again if we want everything to work. "

" I have another, I'd say good question, if Kallus allows me to make assumptions: how much can we trust the information that you heard from Eris Vanserra? " Nimue helps me strap something to my arms, the same suspicion lacing her words. " They say their lineage is descended from foxes. How much can you trust a fox? "

" It's all the information we have in a time that's running out too fast. My father has heard the gossip from the continent: that Cyan's landing has brought anomalies to the surface that others consider the end of the world. " Niven mumbles worriedly, tucking her map into her armor. " Many say the Devourer rebels in his tomb between worlds, others that a Dark King stirs the forests and lakes between the continents. "

" It means they felt it too. " Aoife whispers, staring into the flame.

" The Night Court also sent his Spymaster here. " Nimue spoke again, considering me. " It means they might suspect something is wrong too. "

" The Shadowsinger is the one we should fear, not Vanserra. " Kallus concluded, not taking his eyes off Nimue. " He hears and feels things no one else can, he might have sensed the change in the atmosphere and it took some time to find the place the energetic charge came from. It won't take him long to find us, to find you, Cyan. "

" The one from the other world surely knows your fate. " Nimue concluded, clenching her fists. " Amren. "

Amren, of course, how could I forget her. She had been... something, something very powerful before she died and was brought to life in the books. An angel, most readers in the other world suspected. She should have been the first to figure out what was going on and how to find me. That's exactly why I shouldn't have been afraid of them, especially if they were trying to find me, maybe they wanted to help me.

" We must find this woman and save her. If there's anything left to save. " Kallus rubs his overgrown beard and looks sternly at Nimue, a whole conversation unfolding between them. "I looked some more and managed to find her name: Malou - the Bloody Blade. "

" That Bloody Blade? " Nimue asks sternly and it's the first time I see her shocked by something.

We all look at each other, dazed, as if a ghost had suddenly came among us, as cold as a raging winter, entering our bones. The candlelight dances and I can feel the strands of hair that washed over my face dancing in front of my eyes. I stare at the door, expecting some huge creature to enter and crush us all. For minutes we are silent, aware of each other's presence, but no one steps through the door.

" The temperature has dropped, do you feel it? " Niven asks, pulling the sweaty armor closer.

" There's a spirit with us. " Nimue concludes, closing her eyes and extending her palms. " It's harmless, but she wants to listen. "

" Who is it? " Aoife asks, drawing a piece of cloth over her shoulders.

" The last true, living Valkyrie is with us. " Kallus sighs, happiness filling his features.

" Is she the one we're going after? " I ask, overcome with adrenaline and excitement. " Why is she a spirit? "

I feel her surrounding me, like a curtain fluttering in the wind, almost suffocating me. I feel her unpleasant eyes on the back of my neck, sniffing me. I feel compelled to stand as straight as a tree..

" One of their most important powers was their ability to cultivate different elements around them to improve their own strength. It's called Cultivation, it's a sub-power of Thriving, something only an extinct cult could do. It gives the wielder enough power to astral project. The Valkyries and the Eyes of the Mother were closely related, being the protectors of the Mother herself. But a group of beings brought their downfall far too many years ago. " Nimue explained as she looked around, as if she could see the silhouette of the one walking freely among us.

" If she is Malou and still has this ability, it means -" Kallus was interrupted by Nimue, who smiled triumphantly.

" That she's still in contact with one of the Eyes. It means one more is alive and waiting. "

" Do we have to find her too? " I ask enthusiastically.

" Only Malou can lead you to the last of the Eyes. They share a bond that allows them to use their co-dependent magic. " Nimue explains, equally excited as she looks at all of us. " That's how she survived all these centuries... It's wonderful... You were right Kallus, there is hope for us. "

" After everything is over, we'll celebrate. " Kallus allowed himself to chuckle softly in that darkness, and with that, I allowed myself to feel joy as well.

We can do it. We can get out alive.

With that hope still imprinted in all five of us, we quickly recapped the plan we were supposed to follow. Aoife had been another important part of it, bringing us another item we couldn't have gotten into the prison without: the key. It was a single one, made of a hard, black material that would open all the cells. There were several sections in the prison, categorized according to the danger level of the creatures imprisoned there. So all the wardens had one. The problem was that we didn't know exactly at which level we could find Malou.

Kallus suspected that she was in section 'S', the highest level of security, where the walls were carved with runes on the inside, preventing any magic, designed to weaken the inmate himself. They fed off their life force, their energy, their powers, so they were always on and they never failed. That's why we had Nimue, who had been working for days on a symbol and the ink we needed to use. It was a diamond with elongated corners cut by a straight line in the middle. I'd seen it before in the other world, used by self-entitled witches on the internet. I'd used it myself, but it never worked.

Kallus was to provide transportation from the prison to the palace and then to the farm. Then, right after all that, we were to run away with Aoife's uncle. That evening. Malou was supposed to be one of the most important prisoners Hybern had kept forgotten in a dungeon for so long, and her absence the next day would set off a lot of alarm bells.

" May we not shrink from our purpose. " Kallus whispered, looking at Niven with his sad, green eyes, now shining like emeralds in the candlelight.

" May we not falter under darkness's terror. " Niven goes on, grave as a tombstone, looking at her father as seriously as if she felt this was the last road.

" May we finally rest when we are claimed. " Nimue seemed to end, placing the palm of her long-nailed hand over her heart in a final prayer to anyone who would listen.

Aoife lowered her head, respecting the silence and the prayer they had said for all of us. There's no stopping us now as we sneak out the door, finally ready to finish what we started a month ago.

After everyone has left the laundry room, I stop Aoife with a hand on her shoulder. " Brew this tea tonight and put a cup in his wine. It should kill a man in less than ten minutes. I don't know what effect Nightshade has on faes, so you might want to add another cup just to be sure. And whatever happens tonight, don't let him touch you or the other girl. " I whisper and hand Aoife the most precious thing I had with me, the black leather sheathed dagger I had stolen in my dream.

" How do you know I have it on me? " Aoife looks at me puzzled and taps her apron pocket.

" No offense, but you smell like dead rats and you have pink stains on your shirt. Nimue know you have it, too. So don't falter tonight. " I place my hand on her cheek, encouraging her, and walk away.

As if she didn't know us, Nimue quickly sneaks back to her hiding place on the ground floor of the palace, where the doctor's office is. Her purple velvet gown covers her hips, swaing them as elegantly as a proud cat. Kallus and Niven retrieved their swords and set off in that robotic way we saw the guards walk.

A sudden pull binds my legs and stops me in my tracks. For a few seconds I am unbalanced, pulled down by the weight of the armor. Tingles spread across my shoulders, as if thousands of butterflies had flapped their fine wings against my cold skin, and suddenly I realize why.

" I've seen you before. " A deep, deadly voice speaks a few steps behind me.

I turn a fraction of an inch and see him again, the same man of my dreams, the same man I had lusted after not only in the other world, but here too. He grabbed Nimue harshly by the arm and demanded answers. Azriel was a few heads taller than the brunette, broader in the shoulders, and this time he was clean, his Illyrian skins now washed. He felt me watching him like a hungry animal and turned his head to me far too slowly, defiantly. Azriel had something murderous written all over his face, and he focused all his attention on me.

" In your dreams, maybe. " Nimue answers proudly, unnafected by the Spymaster.

My legs are racing, and with them my heart, as if they were competing to see who could go the furthest. All this infatuation mixed with disappointment and hatred and anger, and even though I knew that I shouldn't blame him for the girl who lost her life, but myself, my expectations demanded more and more from someone I didn't know at all. Azriel had his reasons for being here, and the way he was looking at me right now, I had a feeling it wouldn't be long before he realized who I was.

Once we reach the stables, Kallus uncovers the imperial carriage the guards used to transport the prisoners. " I have been looking for one of these all day. Get in, I'll talk if anyone asks too many questions."

Outside it was raining heavily, loudly and violently, like a bad omen, and suddenly I felt the need to be held, to be protected and to hide.

" Wait! " I shout, stopping them before they get into the pitch-black carriage. The two horses whine and kick their hooves, but I don't hesitate as I throw myself into their arms like it was the last time. " No matter what happens tonight, I have the utmost respect for your family, Kallus, you have helped me more than others have in a lifetime, and I will forever cherish what you gave me: another chance. "

" Don't say goodbye. " Niven whispers and I can feel those tears straining her soft voice. " This is not a goodbye, Cyan. We'll make it. "

" I know. But I feel like I never had a chance to thank you and tell you that you have a place in my heart forever. " The hole in my stomach grows bigger and I regret that I can't say 'I love you' to these people, but I hope they read between my words.

" I love you like my own child and I would do anything for you, Cyan. We'll make it through the night. " Kallus says in a final tone, sucking back his own tears. " Now hurry before someone sees some guards bonding in the barn. "

As Niven and I go to close the door, someone calls after us. " Chief Carambian, head of palace security. Identify yourself and your purpose in taking a royal carriage. "

Kallus presents a paper, torn and signed, then speaks in a deep, dark voice I have never heard before. " The king requests that a prisoner be brought to the palace. Tonight. "

Through the open window of the carriage, I watch the other man carefully read the letter and then approve it. " You have clear path. "

We stop stalling and set off at a fast pace. The horses gallop furiously through the backyard, stopping only for a few seconds, while Kallus is forced to show the false letter to the guards at the gates. The prison is a few miles away, in the opposite direction from Thaibar, hidden in the woods. At this late hour, only the lanterns attached to the cart illuminated the beaten path. The trees seemed taller and more menacing than those in the forest near Thaibar. Many of them had no leaves at all, just twisted trunks, as if they were in pain and had no one to comfort them. Outside it was still pouring heavily, soaking the path and making it slippery as Kallus turned. It smelled of wet leaves, cold and muddy, and the silence was so ingrained among the long branches that we were the only ones to break the seemingly sacred silence.

We had that hope that we would make it tonight, that the first step of our plan would happen without anyone getting in our way. Even though my breath came in short and quick, like an asthma attack, even though the feeling of impending doom seemed to creep over my skin, the adrenaline I felt was more alive than anything else, burning my body from the inside out. I don't know how Kallus was able to stay out in the pouring rain, but he assured us that it was better for him to drive alone; too many people would have drawn attention to us.

Sleep soothed my eyes, but I couldn't close them, I was too full of conflicting feelings. I don't even know what time it was, one, two in the morning? By now Aoife must have been in the imperial bedroom, pouring poison into glasses. The thought provokes a physical reaction of nausea in me, so I glance at Niven out of the corner of my eye to reassure myself. She's asleep, head down on the opposite couch, mouth open. She slept the entire twenty minutes we'd made it from the palace to the middle of this wilderness.

There is a knocking on the metal roof of the carriage and Kallus calls from outside: " It's time, girls. "

" Wake up, Nivy, we're here. " I shake Niven gently, pulling her hair away from her face and helping her out of her dream's grip.

" I'm up. I'm up. " She mumbles, wiping the saliva from the corners of her mouth and pulling her hood over her head. " How long have I been out? "

" Barely twenty minutes. " I answer as I open the door and jump onto the earth. A wet sound comes from the impact and I dive a little into the mud.

" Here, take the declaration and Nimue's ink. You remember the sigil, right? " Kallus jumps out of the driver's seat as well, pulling all the tools out of his pockets, then continues when I nod. " Whatever you do, whatever they ask you, just say that Draegan sent you and that if they have anything to say about it, to come to the castle for answers. Malou might be in the last cells, just ask them to show you the Valkyrie. I'll wait for you in the carriage and keep an eye out. You have to understand that if you reach the basement level and something bad happens, you'll most likely be trapped down there. Move quickly and stay alive. Let's hope our Valkyrie is holding strong. "

We both nodded, then poured what was left of my potion down our throats, then added a second one that Nimue had made to glamorize us. We needed to sound and look like men, not two twenty-year-old girls, so Nimue had prepared two extra bottles. I don't know how long her magic lasted, but I guessed no more than an hour or two, so we had to move very quickly.

As far as I knew, there were two parts to the prison, the above-ground part, where the humans or not-so-dangerous prisoners were kept, and the underground part, where all the creatures and nightmares we were supposed to run away from were trapped.

" May we not falter... " Niven whispers as we step out, away from the cover provided by the trees, and thousands of crossbows are aimed at our heads from the outer wall of the prison.

" Amen!... " I mutter, already frightened.

We advanced robotically, with the spears we had obtained from the palace in full view and with our backs straight. There was no turning back. The rain pelted down hard and furiously, seeping through the seams of our armor and soaking into the sweaters we had put on underneath to make us look more massive. Huge drops of water made a disconcerting sound as they made contact with the obsidian on our shoulder blades and helmet crest. The boots, five sizes too big, were playing havoc with my legs and the soles of my feet were already getting wet from the puddle that was forming beneath us by the second. Niven was no better, only a head taller than me, but much, much skinnier. She'd needed two pairs of pants and two blouses to fill the armor to the brim.

" Legitimize yourself! " A voice shouts out of nowhere as we reach the huge gate. On the outside, it is lit only by two massive torches, which illuminate the rusty and bleeding spears coming out of the gate.

I could feel the magic sweeping over me, from my ankles to the top of my head, raising my temperature and sharpening my vision. I felt more massive, as if I had grown a few inches taller, but also heavier, as if I had gained weight. I could feel my jaw tingling under the balaclava, and was surprised to find that I had grown a beard, and my ears were painfully pricked by the roundness of my helmet. We had already transformed.

" General Charon. " I scream as loud as I can, feeling the witch's brew constrict my lungs.

" Chief of the palace servants, General Carambian. " Niven shouted back, raising her head to be heard.

A few horrible seconds of waiting pass, then a deafening screech almost makes me duck. The gate opens painfully, creaking on all sides and dragging heavily on the ground. Five fae await us at the entrance, shining swords, seemingly freshly sharpened, lying murderously on their arms, torches in their hands.

The man who looked at us questioningly could not have been more than thirty years old, though he was a fae, which could mean he was easily five hundred years old. He was bald, his pointed ears protruding past the edge of his occipital bone, and his eyes were small and wrinkled, set in the center of his hateful face. He didn't smile, but his lips were thin and parted in a harsh, implacable line.

He walks toward us, with his torch blowing in the wind and shows his sharp fangs. " It is past midnight, Lord Charon, what does His Highness desire at this obscene hour? "

" We are not to judge King Draegan's orders or desires, so read for yourself. " I reply with how much coldness I am capable of, considering my underwear is shaking on me, and hand him the same sheet that Kallus had shown the stableman.

" You wish to escort an ' S ' classed creature to the palace?! " His voice sounded hoarse, as if he had eaten forks and knives all his life, and his throat was not in the best shape. " I have to refuse. I can't let such fae out. It's dangerous. "

" Sire. " Someone speaks behind him, and the man turns his head to the side. " Sir Lisko, if the Master wishes, we must obey. "

" The prison still does not answer to its own self-appointed leadership. " Sir Lisko spits, obviously irritated, then stares at us for a second in silence. " Why would he want such creature free inside the palace. "

" The creature must be bound and gagged. " Niven's words come out with a raspy, purely masculine timbre, and I smile under my mask, begging to get inside faster and get it over with. " King Draegan wants a spectacle for a guest - The Autumn Court's Heir and The Night Court's Emissary. "

" You see, sire, he already has connections across the continent. He'll free us soon. " The same voice speaks, changing Lisko's mind.

" Fine. You have one hour to take whatever you need. " He turns and gestures for us to follow.

We obey without comment and the joy begins to grow in me. I hope that luck will be with us all the way.

First, we crossed the small courtyard, where it seemed that the prisoners were allowed to go outside from time to time, judging by the number of tables and chairs arranged one on top of the other, balls and obstacle courses, probably made for training. Lisko, as the other man called him, lifts the latch on the huge, tree-covered building and invites us in. We enter the above-ground prison without much fuss, only to be bombarded with moans and groans.

Darkness reigned over the smelly, cold cells, and for a second I wondered if anyone was alive in those cages. Not even the moon shone through the holes in the prison stone. At this late hour, everyone was probably fast asleep. Only the few candles in the walls lit the way for the guards. Niven looks around too, and I can feel the tension in her muscles and her disgust. There was an overpowering smell of closed air and unwashed bodies, feces and rotten food. All I could see were limbs: crippled hands half covered with blankets eaten away by rats, legs with gangrene that looked like they had been eaten by bugs. I almost vomited when I saw a man relieving himself between the sheets that should have been his bed. Someone screams above us, and I jump, stifling a scream of my own.

Was it a prison or a sanatorium?

" Don't be so scared, Charon. They're as good as dead and doped up. " Lisko says proudly as he grabs a set of keys from nearby and unlocks some doors.

" What did they do? " Niven can't help but ask as she watches a woman write in stone with her fingernails melted and bloodshot.

" You may think we put all people in jail, but there are real criminals here. " He answers, then we stop in front of a cell where a man is fast asleep with his back to us. " He killed his entire family in a manic episode, then he ate them one by one. " We walk a few steps and stop in front of another cell where a child was lying in rags. " Don't be fooled. He raped his aunt and hung her in the attic, then stole her money and lost it gambling. He paid whores to please him, then cut out their tongues when he wasn't satisfied. He's barely fifteen. "

The boy's sardonic grin is all the confirmation I need as he bares his razor-sharp teeth like a hungry shark.

" So you don't have innocent humans here. " I ask as I watch another man satisfy his needs under the covers.

Lisko's wrinkled face turns toward us, cold and emotionless. He opens an obsidian door that leads to a staircase.

"I'd say it's too late to seek your penance, General Charon. Freeing one prisoner doesn't make up for all the innocent lives you've taken. " He doesn't wait for me to answer, so he rolls his eyes and speaks again. " If you want to expand the cells under the palace, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the prison is full. I thought you'd put all the people you torture in there. "

I try not to be too impressed by the way Sir Lisko, the last fae I would have expected, spoke with such disgust of the things Draegan and Charon had done to the humans. As if he really cared about the innocent lives lost within the palace walls. I look at his disheveled hands and my eyes widen when I notice the gold band that marks him as married. Could his wife be human?

" We do. " Niven agrees for me and steps in front of me. " We need to find the Valkyrie. "

"I don't know if she's still alive in this pit. You'll find her remains in the last cell on the left. Just stay in the main hall and you will be fine. I don't get paid enough to go into that hole with you at night. If you have what you need, I'll be waiting upstairs. " Lisko announces, and before he closes the door, he tells us one more thing. " Don't listen to the voices. "

When the door behind us was unlocked, the silence washed over us, broken only by our intertwined breaths. It was hard to carry armor that weighed half as much as you, so I was out of breath every few steps. I picked up a torch leaning against the stone wall and stared tensely at Niven. Her helmet was turned toward me, as if she, too, was watching me in confusion.

" We'll manage. " I speak and the echo answers me with the same words.

We make our way down the spiral staircase, descending for minutes as if driving into the center of the earth, and at the bottom we would find the lava boiling. Occasionally we'd come to a window that once let in fresh air, but was now covered over. I looked down, careful not to slip on the broken steps that were missing large chunks of material. Not even the spiders lived here.

Niven stops abruptly, both palms pressed against the narrow walls of the stairs for balance. " Did you hear that? "

A shiver ran down my spine and I suddenly became much more alert. This was everything I didn't want to hear while I was buried in a grave. I frown from behind my metal helmet and sharpen my ears. Too bad the potion didn't give me their fine hearing as well, just the sharp look, maybe I'd hear the thing Niven was talking about. My heart raced, pounding so hard that I could see my chest heaving under those powerful beats.

" I don't hear anything. I'm only really cold. " I say as we walk down a few more steps, then she stops again.

" Strange, I'm really, really hot. But I hear them talking. "

" Don't listen to them, Nivy, you heard the guy. "

When we finally step onto level ground, the fog engulfs my ankles, and with it, panic settles in my chest, sinking its insatiable claws into my heart. Pitch black. A deep blackness, as if I could cut it with a knife, surrounds us and with it the smell of decay. I refrain from any sarcastic comment and just clench my jaw, trying to find the courage to continue. I swallow dryly and raise the torch even higher, trying to shed as much light as possible into the wide corridor. I would never have dared to venture into an underground graveyard alone, filled with creatures that had magical powers and probably loved the taste of human flesh. I probably reeked of fear, a smell I'd always heard creatures of the dark loved, as if it were an aphrodisiac for their nostrils. I look back and am relieved to see the stone wall, it meant we could start somewhere, that this was the main corridor Lisko had told us about and we didn't have to wander lost through this cursed place.

" Do you still hear them? " I ask skeptically with a sigh as we walk down the muffled corridor.

The cells were hidden in the darkness, and I didn't dare bring the fire near them, not wanting to disturb whatever was in that darkness. It was enough that I felt thousands of pairs of eyes in the back of my head, watching me far too closely for my own liking. I was sure that, unlike the inhabitants upstairs, those down here were not sleeping, but hunting at these hours. I stayed as close to Niven as I could, the same distance from the cells, to reduce the chance of being grabbed by one of the tentacles. Sometimes I even felt ghostly touches on my back and forearms and forced myself not to look back. I had heard that it is not good to look back when someone is calling you, whistling at you, or when you feel unseen touches, so I preferred to stick to my earthly teachin

" Yes, they want you to set them free. They promise to obey. We both know they won't. " Niven encourages me not to listen to them either..

" What if they're innocent? "

" I don't trust anything that thrives in the darkness. "

When we finally reached the end of the haunted corridor, it took me a few seconds to work up the courage to put my flame in front of the cell. I knew the underground prison wasn't empty, not by a long shot, even if I didn't hear any voices. Niven probably heard them because she was one of Mother's benefactors.

" Maybe is on another hallway. " Nivy whispered manfully from behind me, turning her head. " But there's no light anywhere, we could easily get lost in this labyrinth. "

" It can't be. " I say, waving the torch back and forth as desperation begins to overtake me. " She can't be dead! She's here, she's close, my intuition never lies to me. "

But as I searched for the uninhabited piece of land, staring in shock at the perfectly made bed and the unused dresser, hope seemed to leave me as quickly as it had come. I could feel it inside, the certainty that I would find it here, still alive, that reality seemed to be playing tricks on me.

" You finally came after me, mighty Benefactor? " Someone is talking, and for a second I think the fire is casting shadows on the walls as I see a pile of clothes jerking around, trying to turn around. " I died long ago. Buried in my own grief. "

" Are you?... " I ask in a whisper, as if I could wake the dead. " You were the one listening, back in the palace? "

Niven comes closer, mouth agape in shock and hope and triumph, and before I can stop her, she lunges for the iron bars, clenching them into tight fists.

" Malou? Yes, but I'm not a Valkyrie anymore. " An endless sadness poured from her timbre, which seemed so, so old. " I could never be one again, after what I've done... You seemed quite thrilled to come and die here for my sake. "

We had come this far and planned how to get in and how to get out, and we were so blinded by the idea that the woman might be dead that we hadn't thought about how to convince her to come with us. I wasn't being absurd, I had considered her mental situation, but I hadn't prepared any emotional speech about life and death, I had relied on her desire to be free again. But what if she didn't want to be free? I knew from my experience with my father that a conversation with a traumatized person is a constant back and forth, and that it is very difficult to reason with them.

" Please, I need your help. We need your help. " I manage to speak slowly, as if the woman was deaf. " Something bad is happening outside, and we need you by our side. "

The woman laughs, jerky, hoarse, then coughs as if her lungs are filled with pus. In this cold place, I wouldn't be surprised if the creatures ended up with bronchopneumonia from these precarious conditions. I wasn't even sure if they were being fed or even offered a glass of water.

" Oh I know. I've heard about you're coming - Ves-per-tus. " She takes a long pause, then continues. " I used to guard and train women like this. Tragic miracles... The world may need you, but it does not need me. The world has been nothing but cruel to me and my sisters. So why should I make another sacrifice for something that erased me? "

" The world has changed, some parts have been rebuilt by people with hope. Kind people. They fight for the minorities, they try to help, they try to dispel the darkness. " I try to convince her, not knowing if what I said was the truth or a lie, but thinking of Prythian, I knew some of my words were sincere. " You've been locked up for too long and the world has moved on, but you don't need to be caged just because you're afraid of the outside. You deserve freedom. "

She fully turns and for the thousandth time tonight I allow myself to be surprised. An old, chocolate, wrinkled face looked back at me as if I had insulted or slapped her. I could see how her white hair framed her bony face, how it accentuated her glassy eye, crisscrossed by a deep, still reddish scar. Her cheeks and chin were adorned with tribal tattoos, now faded to gray marks. The real, healthy one, however, betrayed so many emotions in the blackness as deep as the one in prison: grief, regret, and such low self-esteem. Her lips were still round, fleshy, and well-defined, but they had become discolored with age.

" The prison is sucking the life out of you. " Niven explains, still gripping the bars. " You are not alone. You are a legend, Malou. My family and I have waited centuries for this glimmer of hope, please don't say no. "

" I do not need the mercy of the Benefactors. You have chosen to wait and be crushed by the ever-growing forces of darkness. You never fight, governed by that pathetic law of not harming anything that moves. We lost the battle once because of you. I let myself be captured. I don't deserve freedom. I deserve to rot in this cell. " Malou spits angrily and approaches us. " Now get the fuck away from me. Every glimmer or nice word you tell me will make me vomit in my mouth. "

Niven squirmed, apparently shaken by the old woman's words, but I didn't have time to ponder all that had been so casually thrown in her face.

" Malou, I know you may feel hopeless and alone and tired, but you are a warrior at heart. I was alone too, I was dead inside too, but there's a way home for all of us, even for you. You have to fight again. We have to fight again. Don't let your potential be lost in Hybern's hands. "

" My home is lost. I don't want to be a blade again. No one came to help us when we needed help. I lost the most important battle - the war. "

" No, it's not. You can find it again. Home is not a place, you can find it in someone else's heart. And I know for sure that you still have a piece of what you call home that is lost somewhere in this world. Fight by my side, let's rebuild what was lost. I beg you, I will give you all that you need, all that you desire. But I need you, the Mother needs you, everyone needs you. You may not feel like a Valkyrie, but you're a strong woman. You have the power to begin again. I'll be beside you in this war. "

She puffs, then a wry smile spreads across her dry lips. " It's easy to throw words, child. Wars are not won by a handful of trained warriors. War means blood, colossal losses, dying loved ones, strategic battles, and sacrifice. Are you ready to make that sacrifice when the time comes? If you had to kill ten people to save one important man who has all the advantages over the enemy, would you do it? When you find out what I've done, what I've had to give up, you won't need me anymore. And more than that, you're just a human now. You're still not a Vesper. You don't have anything I want or need. "

" That's why I need you. You can teach me everything you know. "

" No. " Malou almost screamed, snarling at me with her sharp teeth. " It takes years, years! Even more, to train one fucking soldier. But a living Vesper? That takes centuries. All the arts you must master to fight the darkness are no child's play. You won't be able to save anything. We will die under your clumsiness. "

" You have to give me a chance. " I say, her words tearing the hope out of me piece by piece, slowly killing me. " Don't die without putting up a fight. Don't give up. Stop running from the past, stop hiding in the darkness, you are a creature of light, a symbol. You have a chance to right your wrongs, don't kick it away! I'll go out there and do my best, even if I die. But I'd like to have at least one small chance of winning. "

Malou looked at me with her healthy eyes and frowned so hard that the wrinkled skin between her eyebrows formed a deep crease. Obviously I've pushed all her buttons, because I see something change in her hard look. The 'no' becomes a 'maybe if...' inside her and I feel her change as she stands on her two feet and stares limply at us and back at the greasy cell. I feel the frustration seeping out of me, my patience wearing thin.

" The Mother calls your name into battle and you refuse? Your comrade, your Carranam is still alive, still suffering, Gods knows where, waiting for you, and you choose to be nothing but trash to Hybern. Their punching bag. You are no longer a Valkyrie, indeed. "

" Nivy... Don't say that. " I place a hand on her shoulder, trying to stifle any harsh words, but she shakes away from my touch.

" Don't stop her, she's right. " The old woman stands on her emaciated feet, dressed in a long robe, sweeping the stone floor. A new light appeared in her eyes, as if the thought of her Carranam had restored this last hope. " If you become a Vespertus, if you manage to survive the literal heartbreak, I would want one thing, but you must do it with your hands. No one else. If I protect you with whatever power I have and train you in the old ways, you owe me one thing. "

" Whatever you need. " I promise, feeling in my gut that I was making a colossal mistake.

" My word is law, and so shall yours be. When the time comes, at the very end, my life will perish under your sword. You will sacrifice me so that I may finally be with my sisters. "

" What? " I look at her in shock, overcome with horror. " Why would I kill you? "

" Because she can't kill herself. " Niven concludes nervously. " The Mother would never allow such a sacrifice. It's an insult to her for you to take your own life. So if her work on the material world is not done, the Mother will not call her to the skies. The only creature that can end their misery is the Mother herself, or... "

" The Mother's own daughter, blood from her blood. " Malou smiles, satisfied, knowing she had us trapped, we couldn't refuse when her agreement to come with us was depending on this bargain.

Niven's words settle in my head and I look at Malou, her cunning face still strong. That's why I couldn't kill myself, because my life was in Mother's hands and she wouldn't let me go.

" That's why you couldn't do it either. " Mallou approaches me and smiles sadly. " That's why you couldn't kill yourself. "

" Have you... " Niven turns her head, and I refuse to look at her, overcome with shame.

" How did you know? " I ask her with all the emotions churning inside me.

" I'm almost as old as time, I know a lot of things. Accept my offer or I won't come. "

I look at Niven, who is as dizzy as I am. I realize that I'm running out of time when my skin starts to tingle and my facial hair starts to fade.

" Tic- tac. " Malou whispers, covered by the shadows.

" I'll do it. " But I will decide when the time comes.

Malou slips her hand through the iron bars like a snake and steals a dagger from Niven's armor, which makes Niven fall on her ass. She cuts her palm, then hands me the bloody blade. " Seal the deal! "

I don't think too far ahead as I throw down my glove and follow her gestures, feeling the sharpness of the knife nick my skin. Pain shocks my shoulder and almost immediately dark blood spurts out, spilling everywhere, running through the cracks in the stones on the floor. Malou grabs my hand aggressively, digging her unkempt nails into my blouse. A cold thunder rumbles in the distance, as if what we are doing now is against nature, as if we have broken the laws of the universe. I feel the clap of thunder as if it had struck me, a strange energy coursing through my whole body, invigorating and exhausting me at the same time.

I refrain from screaming, the pain from the cut pumping through my muscles. I feel her dry skin rub against mine, our blood now bound together for what seems like forever. Tongue of darkness climbs up our arms, marking the bargain. Malou just grimaces, apparently gripped by this strange, piercing pain as well. Time stops for a few seconds and I watch silently as the black ink sprouts in my palm, closing the cut. A snake blooms from under my skin, while a bird, a raven, entwines itself on Malou's old palm.

" I am the eye of the crow that watches over the head of the mighty serpent. " We say in unison, our voices possessed by thousands of ancestors.

Niven stares at us dumbfounded, but doesn't linger long and begins to draw the seal on the cell door. Something crackles in the walls, disabling whatever was keeping Malou exhausted. The woman gasped, as if a pain had been removed from her soul. She quickly opened the door with the stolen key, then hurried to support Malou, who was barely holding on.

" I won't always be like this. " She admits when I position myself on the other side and we start walking down the corridor. " I just need time to recover my strength and youth. "

We'll wait for you here, when you need us the most. We'll feed from your blood, your sacrifice and we'll live. We won't forget your taste.

I turn my head back when I hear the voices speaking to me. Malou looks at me with her different eyes and warns me not to pay attention to them. And so I do, throwing the voices out of my head, ignoring this warning and promise. Climbing the stairs with such a heavy weight becomes even more difficult. The magic begins to wear off when I notice that my height is beginning to decrease, Malou's shoulders are now suspended at different heights.

Lisko opens the door when I knock on it with my boot and has Niven sign the register, leaving proof that someone had released the prisoner, then slips the King's letter into a file as well. He accompanies us to the gates in the torrential rain, along with five other guards, but he doesn't say much, as if satisfied that we've taken a nuisance off his mind. The gates close roughly behind us and I can hear the locks turning. The torches outside die before my eyes, extinguished by an unseen magic, leaving us alone in the woods.

" Father! " Niven shouts into the night once she reaches the carriage. " Father! We're... here. "

Her voice trailed off as she opened the door and saw the horror. Blood. Blood everywhere and Kallus nowhere. The red liquid was dripping from the horse's neck, their life stolen from them. I turn my head from the scenery, unable to witness that cruelty.

We were trapped here.

" He's not dead. " Malou shouts over the pouring rain, leaning painfully on my shoulder. " I would've smelled it. But he's far away from this place and I think he's hurt. Badly. "

" Kallus! Where are you? " I scream, shaking violently, surrounded again by that doom.

The emptiness in my stomach grows, and I feel like banging my head against a tree as I watch the desperation with which Niven surrounds the carriage, shouting wildly through the forest. Angrily, she throws her helmet to the ground and falls to her knees, screaming again and again, calling her father. I see her shoulders moving convulsively, as if she can't catch her breath, as if she's crying and laughing at the same time. I don't even dare look into her eyes. I am afraid it will break me, so I hide my eyes when she turns to look at me.

" He is gone. " Niven says, crying, and as I watch the night creep through the wicked trees, I know the truth: Kallus was the price I had to pay.

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bagelrites · 10 months ago

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Have you ever had a fanfiction idea you knew was great but didn't have the time/courage/patience to write ? What would be the backbones of it and what scene in particular would you still like to see written one day ?

So my problem is that when I think of a fan fiction idea even if I have 20 other wips I still somehow think I will do it someday. There is one big fic idea that I had that I have pretty much given up on though, and that's the Squid Game AU. Obviously I thought of it when the DTeam were playing in the Squid Game tournament, and the premise would be that George and Sapnap are contestants who very early on become friends and form an alliance, and Dream is a guard who keeps somehow ending up in situations where he has to talk to George, and they start falling in love. There'd be a lot of complicated feelings, but in the end George escapes with Dream because in that final game he doesn't actually get shot when he loses (I think Dream would have gotten some of the other guards on his side,) but he plays dead until the field is cleared and then Dream comes and whisks him away and they escape on a boat together. George is kind of sad about leaving Sapnap behind, but he has a feeling he's going to win, and he's right of course.

I don't think I'll write more or a shortened version or anything one day. I had so little of it written, in fact, I could actually share everything I wrote here right now, so I'll put it below the cut :)

This was the opening:

George liked the blue hue of his jumper. He’d been told it was turquoise, actually, but it looked a grayish blue to him, cool and muted, like the still face of a lake reflecting the sky. The white stripes could be clouds, perhaps. The numbers over his heart the ripples of a fish flipping from the water, or perhaps the pearly feathers of an egret in flight.

And yes, technically it was a prisoner’s uniform, but George felt it was important to find comforts even—or perhaps especially—in circumstances such as these.

The dormitory was spacious, in its own way. The beds were stacked three layers high, but the mattresses weren’t terribly thin, and there was a wealth of free space opposite the bunks, plenty of room for all two hundred competitors to mingle together, or else find some corner to sulk in alone. The white walls were bright, too, and the ceilings were high.

George supposed if this was the room he was destined to sleep his last night in, at least it was clean and airy. Better than rotting away in a cramped prison cell, right?

He rolled from his side onto his back, staring up at the cross-beams holding up the mattress above him. It had been about an hour or so since they let the competitors into the dorm, and so far there was no word as to when the games would begin. George had been trying to nap in his bunk to wait it out, but everyone else was being far too talkative, and the din of voices kept him awake. Finally, he got antsy enough to get up, deciding to take a stroll around the room and scope out his competitors.

Not that he really thought it would help him win. He didn’t quite plan to do that. Didn't see the point in trying, if he was honest. If he won, he won. If he didn’t…

Then I had a few scenes of dialogue jotted down. First George teasing Dream:

“Why did you say that?”

“Say what?”

“That you trust me.”

“Oh. I don’t know. You’re fun to mess with.”

Dream looked away.

“George, you don’t even know me.”

“You could change that.”

“George—” Dream sputtered, and George giggled. He sounded so cute when he was flustered.

“You’re already talking to me. That’s a step in the right direction.”

Dream froze, and didn’t make any reply. George wished he could see behind his mask, see if he was angry, or scared, or just flushed from embarrassment. He was betting on the latter. “Oh, now you’re all quiet.”

And then here's George seeing Dream's face for the first time:

“Wow, you’re—” George paused, face flushing. “Nothing.”

“I’m nothing?” Dream chuckled.

“No, I mean—I mean you’re, um…” his mind raced for the right word, the least embarrassing word. “Handsome?”

“Oh, I am?” Dream leaned closer, smirking, and George covered his face with his hands.

“No, I meant hot! You’re hot!” he said, muffled into his palms.

Dream just laughed, the sound light and lovely and adoring, and George melted under the warmth of it.

And finally some George + Sapnap dialogue:

“Why do you think you’re gonna win?”

“Because I have to. I have to think it,” Sapnap said. “If I don’t think I can win, then I know I’ll die. You know?”

George hummed.

“I think you might actually do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I just… have this feeling that you’re gonna go all the way,” George said.

“Well, then I want you to go all the way with me.”

George smiled and couldn’t help snickering a little at that.

“What? I mean it.”

“Oh, c’mon. You know what that sounded like.”

#fic wip #my writing #dream team #dnf #answered ask

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freedoms-per-eagle · 2 months ago

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A black limousine typically used to transport the Joint Chiefs of Staff during visits to the city of Alamogordo stops at a fenced gate. The driver rolls down their window and waits as a soldier walks up and verifies their identity. When it’s clear, the vehicle pulls into a parking lot.

A man in a suit steps out of said limousine, flanked by some other people in suits and two executive protective agents.

In front of him is the former Alamogordo National Guard Armory- and several Army soldiers tasked with maintaining exterior guard greet him as he and his small congregation walks to the front gates, presses a buzzer, looks at a boxy security camera and pulls the door open as the door magnetically opens with a click.

He walls through. The other people in suits fan out as they enter a small intersection lit with fluorescent lighting, with offices on one side and a large command space on the floor beneath, with radio and satellite operators tuning and checking satellite feeds from various satellites the Eagles have access to. A tattered CIA flag is hung in the operations room. As he walks into a small office and gets settled down, a secretary walks up to him.

“Good morning Director Nichols. We’re making headway in extracting information from the captured Frumentarius.”

“Very good. How many techniques did the team have to use on him?”

“They’re using electrical compliance strategies instead of simulated asphyxiation, combined which various pharmacological techniques pioneered in the pre-war MKULTRA program. Which technically makes it two. It’s in the file.”

The secretary produces a manilla folder stamped in faded ink “TOP SECRET” and hands it to him. He opens a drawer and takes out a pair of reading glasses, wears them and reads it over for a couple minutes, then looks up.

“I’d like to see the new electrical compliance technique in action.”

“Alright Director. I will warn you-“

“Mr. Fowler, I am fully aware. I’ve attended my fair share of compliance strategies already.”

“Follow me then.”

They walk down corridors, past offices, then briefing rooms with agents inside looking at whiteboards, they pass a radio broadcasting office with racks of tapedrive servers and a single operator sitting in front of a microphone, a small laboratory and reach a door labelled “HVD ANNEX.”

The director then presses a button, holds his ID card up to a security camera and walks in as the secretary walks back to less classified areas.

Inside are brick rooms with what appears to be prison doors firmly attached to them.

Some people sit inside these cells. They look terrifyingly diverse- some wear NCR uniforms, some wear Legion uniforms and look like Vexillari or scouts, some are in plain civvies. A member of Whiskey Team is hunched over sobbing. Some are hunched down. Some seem to be filled with despair, others are pounding at the door screaming in rage.

“LET ME OUT OF HERE YOU DEGENERATE!” screams a Vexillarius as the director walks by, only for a guard to walk up and hold out a can of pepper spray.

The director walks through and pulls the door open to a door labelled “HID INTERROGATION.”

“I WARNED YOU FOR THE LAST TIME!

Sounds of the can being shoved into the food slot and sprayed can be heard.

“No- no no AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH-“

The door closes behind the director.

He walks up to an observation window and looks inside.

A Frumentarius dressed in a Whiskey Team uniform with some other things in an attempt to look like an Eagle sergeant sits looking drugged out of his mind.

On a table, an active tape recorder, some open ampoules of methamphetamime and pentobarbital and an empty syringe sit adjacent to a crank generator. A Lieutenant General cranks up the generator, then seizes two metal rods by their rubber handles, holding them in each hand.

A female second lieutenant is right beside them, patiently speaking to them.

“You’re just lost, aren’t you? Not sure how you got lost in the archives room with a folder on a small PWR nuclear reactor on your hand, but we need to make sure you aren’t a spy.”

The frumentarius simply shouts back in a drugged stupor.

“FUCK YOU AND YOUR NICE GUY GUISE! THE LEGION WILL INVADE THIS PLACE AND ENSLAVE WOMEN LIKE YOU! YOUR MILITARY CANNOT SAVE-“

A harsh electric sound crackles across the room as the Lieutenant General holds the rods close enough to arc.

“This is 50 thousand volts of pure electricity, enough to make you wish you were dead, but low enough in amperage to not kill you.”

“You’ll feel like Jupiter struck you with a bolt of lightning.”

The Second Lieutenant splashes the frumentarius with water.

“You aren’t going to scare me with your little trick. I’m not one of those unedu-“

The general rips the clothing of the Frumentarius off and presses the prongs against his damp skin.

The Frumentarius howls in agony as the electricity courses through his body.

“Wanna talk? We can make it stop. Tell us what the Legion knows about the nuclear reactor.”

“NEVER YOU GORDO BAS-“

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH”

“Well?”

“I’M GONNA HAVE VULPES STRING YOU UP ON A CROSS-“

“AAAAAAAARRRRRGHHHHHH”

“Alright then. This is going to keep happening, so confess.”

“Tell him. I can’t make him stop.”

“NOT A WORD OUT OF-“

*bloodcurdling scream*

This repeats for a couple cycles. The second lieutenant and first lieutenant play good cop bad cop while electrocuting him every time he utters some insult or obscenity.

Eventually-

*deep agonized breathing* “fine, I’ll fucking tell you- just make it stop, make it fucking stoooopppp….”

“Alright then. Tell us what you know.”

“The Legion is aware the Eagles are working on some sort of project to alleviate their resource shortages which could jeopardize the war. Nobody has found any concrete evidence or shit, and they tried to send us here to try to find files. Until your military police found me and shit.”

“How many spies came with you?”

“There’s two of my squad in the White Sands motel. They’ve tried SIGINT, but nobody’s been able to get any comms other than some weird fucking numbers, police or base chatter.”

“How hard was that?”

“Just don’t hurt me anymore…..”

The Frumentarius is unrestained and placed back into cuffs and walked out. They’re too confused, terrified and drugged to resist.

The tape recorder is turned off by the Second Lieutenant on the way out.

The Lieutenant General walks out and notices the interim director of the CIA standing there.

“Good morning Director Nichols. Everything went well.”

“I saw it. Clever technique, keep it up. I’ll make sure counterintelligence is aware of the spies in the motel.”

“Thank you Director.”

what the armory looks like (looks like this)

what the radio operator center looks like (minus the computers and flat televisions, but with more typewriters, radio sets and the wall is covered in large CRT television sets from NASA with satellite feeds)

#i legitimately could not find when the alamogordo NG ready center was made so i’m making one up using a site near me #fallout rp #director nichols #THE LORE POST #CIA real #this is a reference to the MGSV quiet torture scene #oc tribe #screaming eagles

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toonqueen · 1 year ago

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Duckvember Day 11: Cowardly Duck

To get to Cowardly Duck I have to explain some backstory for a headcanon I had for Posiverse like 15+ years lulz. I had a story for different chars I was writing back then. Back then it was an OC that was Launchpad’s son Ornithopter and OC that was Splatter’s son Author. Author was technically a villain but ultimately became goodish to work with Orn to save the world and stuff. HERE IS ART OF THEM BY @fluxchix I always like to show off:

My idea for their Posi-verse version was set in a posi-verse that was TOO perfect. Everything is super clean, no crime, and everyone seems cheery and happy. But some people also seem a little on edge. Things aren’t quite right. The vague idea for that Posi-verse being that any crime would get you locked away for life. Be it vandalism or murder just life for it all. Even having a temper or being sad would be reason for suspicion. EVERYTHING HAS TO BE PERFECT. IN this universe, Author is locked up but in a sleep stasis because of his powers being a threat. (Anything he writes becomes true kind of thing.) However, over time he is able to affect peoples dreams and gets in contact with Orn.

Now, Posi-Author is much more evil than his prime counterpart. He deserves to be in jail even those this society is very unfair in other respects. Orn in this universe is a quiet nerdy librarian and not an adventurer/hero like his prime version. Posi-Orn is easily influenced by Author though to do some tiny tasks here and there that aren’t even bad or against the law. They are minor things that start a domino effect that would ultimately in the long run cause Author to be able to escape. (stuff like having Orn get his coffee at a different shop and it causes one of the prison guards that also gets coffee there to be 5 minutes late which causes a distraction so Author is mentally able to manipulate one of the jail cameras to be off by inches which sometime in the future will somehow help with his escape ect ect.) But what he needs Orn to do starts to get increasingly more dangerous until he is finally free.

So while in Prime verse Orn make Author on the good side, in Posi-verse Author is making Orn lean a bit to the bad side. DUN dun dun. But what is the ‘bad’ side when SOCIETY IS SO EXTREME WANTING PEOPLE TO BE PERFECT. Anyways back when I had this was my main song I had for Orn and Author in Posi-verse haaa.

SO BACK TO COWARDLY DUCK. With this idea of this posi-verse from 15+ years ago I’ve had this idea rolling around for awhile for what Darkwing and Gos would be like there. THEN WE FINALLY GET TO COWARDLY DUCK.

Drake Mallard wouldn’t have his superhero alter ego at all. He is a Care Officer. Pretty much a cop on this universe. I picture the uniform looking like a boy scout lol. He’s a very nervous guy, who has a hard time saying no to being given extra work and extra shifts. So he kinda gets walked all over by coworkers. MIND YOU YOU CANNOT BULLY IN THIS SOCIETY SO THEY DON’T PICK ON HIM. Just give him their work because they know he won’t say no???!? I guess that's how it works?!?!

This version of Drake is very much following the rules and crossing his t’s and dotting his i’s. He worried about breaking some rule and getting in trouble for it. Though he had been behaving perfect in work and public, he did have a secret. While at work if someone was caught doing something minor and it was their last offense before being locked away for LIFE he would let it slide. Like littering or looking sad at the park he’d just let that person slide. In some instances of other officers there he had to even take more a risk. He would then have to alter records in the database to show the suspect had maybe one less minor offense then they did so they wouldn’t be locked up forever right at that moment.

Of course one day Officer Mallard gets a call to the Waddlemeyer residence. In this universe Gosalyn’s parents and grandpa are very much alive. My idea for this Posi-Gos I would say starting out wasn’t really any more wild than prime Gos, but in a world with everything having to be perfect, being spirited stuck out a lot more. Her parents know she’s on her last strike but are the ones that actually called an officer on her. This puts Drake in a position that he can’t fake that she had one more pass.

Drake does not report in the system. He pretends he’s arresting her since that is what her family was expecting. As they’re driving away he starts to tell Gos something like, “Hey kiddo I’m not really turning you in. We have to figure something out though-” but Gos has already somehow broken out of the back seat of the car and running, making Drake have to go after her. He explains he is not turning her in. He’ll hide her until he like finds some resistance contact and then they can take care of her or something.

Anyways, long story short Drake really can’t find any resistance to talk to him because he’s a cop and it seems suspicious. So she ends up staying with Drake for the time being. Gosalyn ends up going by Lynn. Drake kinda home schools her because, well, don’t want her to get in trouble again any time soon. Lynn then starts to do some vigilante stuff under the name Pretty Poison. She ends up swooping in and stopping arrests for minor stuff to allow the suspects to run off before the officers can catch them and arrest them and stuff.

Drake finds out about this but doesn’t stop it. Eventually he even lets Lynn know when one of his coworkers has a call the can’t get to, and to have Lynn break it up since he can’t get there do help in any way.

Lynn thinks Drake is a coward because he’s super smart and has access to do more but doesn’t. While Drake is not being outwardly confrontational by being a vigilante, he is using his position to help as much as he can, and a risk to himself. She does get to see him as her dad over time, and gets he has a good heart and is trying his best. Drake would gradually help fight against the whole perfect society situation more and more. Maybe don a costume at some point himself when he’s off duty. I would think at some point Lynn would get contacted by some sort of resistance. She would be willing to help them with whatever missions they need her help on. However, she wouldn’t take the opportunity to leave Drake though.

SEMI RELATED DETAIL, Drake would fight Darkwarrior Duck. He would be pissed about there being a version of him that seems to be a whole embodiment of the society he came from. He would take out all his frustration about that on one guy that looks like him EASILY. Darkwarrior won’t know what HIT HIM. This Posi-Drake has some bottled up rage he was needing to release on someone. And it will be twice as bad if Darkwarrior had kidnapped Lynn or something. For some reason when I picture it I see Drake being in that fork lift mech suit Ripley used to fight the Alien in Aliens. Lolol.

#duckvember 2023 #duckvember #darkwing duck #posiverse #drake mallard #gosalyn mallard #gosalyn waddlemeyer

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fish-popsicle · 5 months ago

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i’m so curious about rainbow hair and blond guy. what’s the meaning of their uniforms if not that they’re a cop and prisoner?

SVOHODYVLYDVSHOV IVE BEEN WAITING FOR AN ASK ABOUT THEM…

They’re both stuck inside some place that acts/works similar to a dream. When they first appear in the “dream” they have the role of a cop and a prisoner. They aren’t actually a cop and a prisoner in real life tho.

(Blonde guy technically isn’t a cop but a prison guard,,, but cop fit better on his ref)

#dreamescape #ask #I love answering asks tysm for the ask!!!!!

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mollysunder · 6 months ago

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I love your analysis! Personally, I think these are easter eggs for the audience to find, to clue us in on Jinx's current/future relationships with champions she is/will be deeply affected by in the narrative and vice versa. From what I can tell Jinx's 'X's likely doen't exist in-universe for the characters to see or associate with Jinx.

For example, whenever a prison guard or Caitlyn calls out Vi's number, no one ever reads out the 'X', they just say "Prisoner 516". Other prisoners like Mek, Silco's tattoed henchmen that got sent to Stillwater, doesn't have the 'X' on his uniform. I even tried to comb through all the runes in-show and in other Runeterra related media, and no, this symbol was only ever used in Jinx's champion debut.

I largely agree with you on the what the orientation of the 'X' could mean on Vi, tho I want to note that Jinx's 'X' is on both the front and back or Vi's prison outfit. With Ekko, more than one person has commented that Ekko's example just looks like his hourglass, and I think that was on purpose. The artists could have made it more distinct and visible like with Vi and Viktor, but they went with ambiguity.

It makes sense thematically, Ekko is the champion that technically knows Jinx the best right now. He's been witness to Jinx's change the whole time, he's got the clearest picture, but it's not a completely accurate depiction of her. He has his own bias about Jinx and the nature of her and Silco's relationship, so the 'X' is less straight forward in turn.

For Viktor, the 'X' is less a broken infinity on his tarot card, and is instead rotated to resemble the symbol fish, ∝, which means 'is proportional to' in math. We use fish, ∝, to balance proportions between two quantities. For me, the use of Jinx's 'X' as a placeholder for a math symbol to represent a form of balance, could foreshadow that Jinx and Viktor will balance eachother out. Each could possibly provide the other the stability and affirmation they need.

I'm back to thinking about Jinx's champion tag again. I can't not think about where each of champion (Vi, Ekko, and Viktor) have their tag placed on their person.

Vi has Jinx's tag on her prison uniform, it's placed right at the start of her prisoner ID number. Once Vi's freed from Stillwater Prison by Caitlyn, she quickly gets rid of the prison uniform and thus Jinx's tag for the rest of the season. Then Vi spends the rest of the show chasing after a version of Jinx that doesn't exist anymore. It goes on that way until Jinx decisively ensures that neither of them can return to an impossible ideal past.

With Ekko, you can find Jinx's champion tag on the bottom left on the front of his jacket. It's difficult to see the actual tag because the canvas of Ekko's jacket is visually dominated by the Firelights tags over Jinx's, possibly expressing how the Firelights have become a fundamental part of his life. But Jinx's tag is still there as she still has a present (negative) impact on his life. It's only until the last quarter of the show where he doesn't wear his jacket anymore, and then he soon fights Jinx, where they nearly killed eachother.

Viktor is the odd one out. Jinx's tag never appeared on his clothes, instead it was inscribed in Viktor's tarot card, The Magician. Not only was it on a card with a design to fit his future look instead of his current clothes, it was presented by another character, Sevika. If we apply the way real world tarot works we can see that Sevika is showing the audience the future (foreshadowing) the story of these two on the plot and with eachother.

Jinx's tag is not only in the center of Viktor's card, but it's practically cradled in his grasp within the hexcore, something he'll probably NEVER part with by next season. And I can only wonder, "What kind of insanely unhealthy relationship dynamic will these two have?!?! I need to see it now!!!".

#arcane #arcane meta

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raymondebidochonlifechoices · 3 years ago

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To summarise:

“A new age of wonderment is upon us.”

Cheryl Blossom, 2021(possibly)

6x06 is called Unbelievable. For once, the title is apt.

It’s all about superpowers in the Dale. But don’t be fooled: it’s not an au. Even Jughead couldn’t be bothered to narrate this one.

Other people’s bombs merely explode. Hiram’s also gives you superpowers. A true legend.

All the characters of the show (core and secondary) are informed about the bomb in separate scenes because this episode is 42 min long and has no discernible plot.

Archie’s superpower is becoming dens(er than usual). We’ve been knew.

Betty’s super power is adding visual effects to her already established knack of sensing danger/serial killers.

Jughead’s superpower is suffering. He’s an author after all, and the only artist worth his salt, is the tortured one.

You know you’re down on your luck when your girlfriend didn’t pay her business insurance to take care of her employees but you had already quit working at Pop’s, so now you don’t have health insurance.

Tabitha’s super power is not being given her own plot line. She was, however, briefly shown without her Pop’s uniform, so points for that at least.

Ironically, Bingo’s superpower is getting a plot line. More trauma for Bingo-of-the-illegal-dog-fighting-ring.

“What is happening to us, Betty?”, asks Archie. “What is happening to me?” he soon after corrects. To the woman with the two cracked ribs spending the night in the hospital for observation. So thoughtful, that Archie lad.

Only Cheryl can string together the phrases “scholarly research” and “for realsies”. And because she can, she does.

She persists that she put Abigail’s curse on her “school chums” *insert eyeroll* although it is clear from the curse’s wording that it pertained to all descendants of Jedediah & co. That is so season 5 though: in season 6 Nana Rose burnt the og curse, so now the wording is open to interpretation.

Kevin takes his remaining kidney to Broadway: part deux. Kevin is flabbergasted by Tangs getting together, probably because this means even less screen time for him.

He later decides to postpone his musical career to play Mrs Doubtfire to baby Anthony. He will guard the baby with his life, says the man who 2 episodes ago was not ready to have a baby at all. Kevin’s superpower is flightiness.

Betty and Veronica talk. It’s not about Archie but it’s about Hiram, so they still don’t pass the Bechdel test.

The FBI is making Hiram’s capture an immediate priority, says Betty i.e. the FBI agent who let Hiram walk away in the previous episode in spite of having condemning evidence of him committing a murder.

Betty acts as if she’s in charge of Riverdale’s F.B.I. office. Having read Glen’s dissertation on the “Varying displays of the serial killer gene in the Cooper family tree”, the rest of the agents decide to play along.

Veronica’s casino must be doing really well in the newly reinstated town of Riverdale. Babylonium opened its doors the previous(?) week and Veronica already has 2 million dollars, that she invests in paying an assassin to off her father. That she let walk away in the previous episode in spite of having condemning evidence of him committing a murder.

Veronica also has a little neon sign spelling “casino” over the wall at her office at the casino. So as not to forget she is at the casino, one presumes?

FP II and FP III might have been Serpent Kings but the real heart of the gangs were the women: Penny, Gladys and, now, Twyla Twist. Did Toni get pregnant solely to join the Milf Club of Southside Gang Wars?

Hospital orderly Trevor Collins, who has been moving around the country, has done time at Shawshank. There IS really only one prison in Riverdale! (well, technically two: there’s Hiram’s prison too – unless they merged behind the scenes?)

Archie takes justice in his own hands, vol. 6.347.289.273. He intervenes at a gang war and makes things worse for the Serpents: A Fresh Story.

When Britta is not playing football, she becomes a whole different person. No, really. She’s now Abigail.

Nana Rose’s superpower is getting up from her wheelchair. You can’t do a banishment sitting down. It lacks gravitas.

Cheryl’s superpower is being possessed.

Percival Pickens, exuding really strong Patrick Bateman vibes and rocking a similar haircut and wardrobe, wants to buy Archie’s blown-up house. He’s offering good money, which is highly suspicious.

“You’re just going to spend your entire life living in the same house?” asks Mary Andrews who doesn’t know yet that Varchie’s downfall started when Archie refused to move to the Pembrooke.

Mary gets rid of her wreck of a house by selling it to her son. Mary’s superpower is lawyering.

Archie, it turns out, had quite the egg nest. Wasn’t he going around asking the Riverdale ladies for twenty grand to fund the Bulldogs?

Archie who was told by his girlfriend that she already handled Glen, decides that he has to handle him himself too. So respectful, that Archie lad.

Archie and Betty show zero interest in Jughead -the third person hurt during the explosion. This is the writers’ way of telling us that they’re still good chums. Because in Riverdale the rule is that, when you’re friends with someone, you don’t share a second thought about them.

TBK’s super power is changing his m.o. He went from torturing and killing young women and children to offing those who disrespect Betty (in this case: Glen). 1 Riverdollar says Archie’s next. We should have known this storyline would be garbage: they do call him The Trashbag Killer after all ....

While Hiram was alive, Veronica’s story line was about daddykins. Now that he is dead, Veronica’s story line is about daddykins. Veronica’s super power is having the same plot line for 6 seasons.

Toffee is still in the Vale. Because Toffee’s superpower is knowing when a universe is wonky.

#yes I caved and watched #don't judge #Riverdale season 6 #Riverdale season 6 spoilers #riverdale recap

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oreoambitions · 3 years ago

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Previous Draft // Ao3

The courthouse doors open with a bang, and the sound of conversation tumbles out of the atrium and onto the courthouse steps. Security flanks Lena on either side, two uniformed bodies ahead to break the crowd, two behind to keep it from closing in around her. Lena keeps her head up, confident in the knowledge that she will appear to take this all in stride. In truth, she crosses the atrium in a sort of daze.

There are moments in a person’s life when time sticks and stutters, moments that linger beyond their natural boundaries, that creep and haunt and niggle at the mind. As she steps out through the courthouse doors, she understands that this is one of them. Time hesitates for her even as she passes into the chaos of lights and cameras outside, towards the waiting crowd of journalists shouting over one another in a fashion not conducive to anyone’s questions ever actually getting answered.

For an instant she’s back on the witness stand: the defense is demanding Supergirl’s name, and the judge is not intervening; the words I plead the fifth are heavy on her lips. That moment has passed, and it hasn’t. There will be ripples. All Lena can do about it now is try to keep those ripples to a minimum, for Kara’s sake; she must say nothing to anyone until they’ve had a chance to talk alone.

“Ms. Luthor.”

The officer at her side encourages her forward, not quite touching her back with one hovering hand. Lena realizes with a start that she’s paused halfway down the courthouse steps. At the bottom, Supergirl drops out of the sky in a dramatic, press pleasing fashion. That soft warm smile is another echo of the courtroom, and Lena is reminded that Kara intentionally slipped out of the courthouse another way and circled back for the cameras. Lena has, rather uncharacteristically, committed a critical error in a critical moment, and now Kara is covering for her with theatrics.

It’s working. The cameras turn on Kara as Lena makes it down the last few steps and into her waiting embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she begins, half stumbling as Kara pulls her close, closer than usual, one hand hot at the back of her neck.

Kara turns her shoulder to shield Lena from the bulk of the cameras. “Not here,” she murmurs, so low that Lena is almost not certain she’s heard it. And then Kara pulls back, not quite far enough, and Lena is acutely and self-consciously aware of the sound of camera shutters snapping all around them, the closeness of Kara’s body, the gut wrenching feeling that the eyes of the nation are on them and the stage lights are all lit up and she doesn’t know her lines.

The judge should have intervened. Her mind keeps catching on that point, on the heavy pause in the courtroom, Kara’s expressionless face, the pounding of her own heart, the irrelevance of the question. It feels as though if she stays in that moment long enough, pictures it clearly enough, the judge will step in and this story will play out another way.

Time, of course, does not work like that. It stutters and sticks only in her mind, while in the real world the press clamors and Kara’s cape flutters in the quickening wind.

“I’m so proud of you,” Kara is saying, her voice pitched so that the waiting journalists might catch words that, God willing, sound hollow to Lena’s ears only. “You were amazing in there.”

Lena is thinking about what the headlines are going to say tomorrow. Luthor and Super: Partners in More Than Crimefighting. Or perhaps, Luthor Makes False Marriage Claim on Witness Stand, Investigation to Follow.

Kara cups Lena’s face with one hand, and she snaps back to reality. She has about half a breath to catch up with what’s happening before Kara is closing the distance between them, and she hates to be a walking cliche, but oh. This is not how she has imagined their first kiss might go - not that she’s ready to admit to anyone except maybe Sam that she’s imagined their first kiss at all - and for a sickening second she feels nothing but regret. But then Kara’s lips are on hers, softer than her imagination has ever accounted for, and Lena is melting into her, kissing her back just at the edge of what might be considered chaste.

It’s an act, of course. If Lena’s heart flutters where she knows perfectly well Kara can hear it, can feel it, that’s just the nerves of the whole situation. Kara is, after all, kissing her on the mouth right there in front of God and everybody, shutters clicking all around them, reporters laughing and cheering in the background. It’s not unreasonable to feel a little something; her secret is still safe.

When Kara breaks the kiss, Lena chases after her mouth, and not for show. There’s that soft smile again, lipstick a little smudged, and perhaps she’s imagining things but Kara’s eyes seem warmer than they did before.

Kara drops a second kiss onto Lena’s forehead. “Can I take you home?” she asks, her voice still pitched for the journalists on the steps.

“Please,” Lena replies.

She tucks herself back into Kara’s chest as strong arms close around her. If anyone asks, it’s for the cameras. There’s a car waiting for her, and a driver who will have to be well compensated for the waste of his time, but it’s better if the press sees that she and Supergirl are leaving together, isn’t it? And nothing could be more memorable, more pressworthy, than flight.

And, Lena thinks, it’s better because, selfishly, she wants to prolong this moment of closeness. She wants to soak it all in: Kara’s smell, the brush of her hair across Lena’s cheek, the preparatory breath before takeoff. This is the moment Lena wishes would slow down for her, just this last moment when she can imagine to herself that what happened in the courtroom was a bad dream of little consequence, and that nothing between her and Kara will ever have to change.

///

Kara does not take Lena home. They fly instead over the wide arc of National City’s suburbs and into the foothills, and from there a little further still until they’ve reached the mountains above the city. Kara deposits them in a valley on the leeward side of a low peak dotted half with shrubbery and half with scraggled conifers, the names of which Lena has to admit she does not know. She rubs feeling and warmth back into her arms and resists the urge to ask where they are while Kara paces, the agitation and anxiety in the lines of her body a clear departure from the soft warmth on display outside the courthouse. When she rounds on Lena, it feels like the inevitable fruition of Lena’s mistakes.

“You told them we were married? Lena!”

“Technically I didn’t use those words.”

“Oh okay, so between my wife and my priest, which role did you think the court was going to assume you were alluding to?”

“What was I supposed to say? They had me backed into a corner.”

“It wasn’t relevant to the case! This was about Lilian. It had nothing to do-”

“It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t relevant, because the judge wasn’t intervening. I just- I panicked. I had to say something. I wasn’t going to lie under oath, and even if I were willing, what could I have said? Should I have thrown out some other name, thrown someone else under the bus? And what then, when it became obvious to the nation that I’d lied-”

“Oh, and you thought this was better? What are you going to say when they want proof? There’s no documentation. There was no wedding to document. Supergirl doesn’t exist as a legal entity, you can’t just-”

“Kara, I-”

“It’s just not like you not to think things through.”

They stand there staring at one another, Kara’s jaw clenched, Lena’s arms crossed tight across her chest. The sun is going to go down soon; Lena is already shivering a little in the shadow of the mountain. This is a mess, and it’s a mess of her own making, and she doesn’t know how to unmake it out here in the gathering dark.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I could have - I should have refused to answer. But then they’d have held me in contempt and thrown me in prison. And I’m willing to go to prison for you, Kara, believe me, but then you’d have broken me out because you’re a beautiful idiot, and where would that leave us?”

Kara’s mouth twitches up a little at the corners, and then she laughs outright. “I would have,” she admits. “What a mess that would be.”

“I know I messed up,” Lena offers.

“You were trying to protect me.” Kara scuffs one boot in the dirt. “They’ll try to hit you with perjury charges; you know they will. You might wind up in prison at the end of this anyway.”

Lena nods. She does know this. Some part of her knew it the moment the words I plead the fifth left her mouth, and yet, everything she’s protested to Kara is true. Those words were the only road open to her so long as that judge remained silent.

“Well,” Lena says, “You don’t grow up in the Luthor household without learning a thing or two about the loopholes of the legal system. Burden of proof lies with the prosecution; it would be very difficult to prove that a wedding didn’t happen.”

Kara tsks and turns on her heel to stare out over the valley. “Supergirl isn’t a legal entity. They could challenge you on the grounds that you can’t be legally married to someone who doesn’t legally exist. And if they found a judge more sympathetic to Lex than to you….”

“Not a difficult thing to find,” Lena admits. She stands in the fear and the evening chill for a long moment “I meant what I said, Kara. If I go to prison over this, so be it. Anything to protect you.” Anything for the woman I love, she wants to say, but Kara isn’t ready for that. Might never be ready for that. And neither, truthfully, is Lena.

Kara’s fingers have found the edge of her cape, and now she’s worrying at it in the fading light. She doesn’t look back at Lena for what feels like a long time, and when she does her expression is guarded. “I want you to promise me you’re going to hear me out before you say anything.”

“Okay….” Lena says. She tries to wrestle down her questions, her curiosities, her reservations. Anything for Kara, after all.

Kara takes a deep breath, looking for all the world like she’s readying herself to make a national address. “I have a terrible idea.”

#fake marriage au #redraft!#oreo writes

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fandomwriterstuff · 3 years ago

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Getaway Car

Another plot-filled Rick Flag fic from me! I might add another chapter if this goes over well so let me know your thoughts!

~2.2k words

Rated T

You're the Suicide Squad's getaway driver and you're got a serious crush on their commanding officer, Rick Flag.

You were what one might call a liability in the operation. You weren’t a soldier under Amanda Waller’s thumb, and you weren’t a prisoner that she could threaten. You were purely there for the thrill at first. But you kept coming back for him. Rick Flag. The commanding officer of your dreams, a real hero. You weren’t sure if you idolized him or wanted to fuck him. Maybe it was a bit of both.

But as you sat in the car and eyed up the team sprinting out of the building, you skipped to your getaway song - Brianstorm by Arctic Monkeys - and revved the engine.

“Punch it, Baby!” Harley cackled as the three prisoners (plus Rick) slammed themselves into your vehicle.

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You thought it over as you narrowly evaded enemy trucks and sped down a dirt road. You were technically working for the law, so they shouldn’t need a getaway car, but they always were getting themselves into tight spots so you supposed it made sense.

It was a few minutes of beating drums, wild guitar solos, and Harley’s cackles as the playlist continued (House of the Rising Sun by the Animals came on just as you dared to slow down). You finally looked over to your right, and raised an eyebrow.

“You doing alright, Colonel?” You took stock of the dark, wet blood covering the left side of his face and the way he was cradling his right fist.

“Never better, darlin,” he offered you a signature smirk and you gave a nod before turning back to the road. You were on a main stretch now, paved and full of other vehicles. You’d likely lost your pursuers but it was your job to get away from them, so you kept an eye on the horizon behind you.

“How you always seem to be in the right place at the right time blows my mind, kid,” Boomer huffed a relieved laugh from the backseat.

“That’s sort of my job,” you replied in kind, smirking into the rearview mirror as you pulled onto the highway that would take you straight back to Belle Reve.

“You don’t talk about your job much though, I noticed,” he pushed and you rolled your eyes. You didn’t talk about yourself, and you didn’t talk about how you got into the getaway business.

“I like to have an air of mystery,” you caught the amused smile Rick tried to hide and brushed your hair back out of your eyes.

“What I’m wonderin,” he continued as if you hadn’t spoken, his accent coming through as he leaned forward through the gap between you and Rick. “Is how a pretty young thing like you got involved with a cold hearted bitch like Amanda Waller.”

You tightened your grip on the wheel (hopefully imperceptibly), and offered a light smile over to him.

“We’ve all got a past, Boomerang Man. Mine didn’t land me in prison, but I’m still here working for you weirdos,” you laughed and signaled your exit towards the Louisiana based metahuman prison.

“I’ll get your story some day, sweet cheeks, you’ll see,” he leaned back as you showed your identification to the guard and pulled into the penitentiary.

After you let the three prisoners off at their dropoff location (like a bunch of kindergarteners going to school), you pulled up to the employee parking area.

“You sure you’re alright?” You were quieter this time, worriedly glancing over at Rick again now that you were alone.

“Don’t you go worrying about me, pretty girl,” he pulled out all the stops with the cute pet name and the thousand megawatt smile, eyes warm and inviting. You were a goner, and you immediately dropped the subject. “I’ll see you in the debrief room,” you sighed after he’d closed the door and pulled the vehicle into your spot.

Another day, another debrief with that fucking psychopath Waller.

You smoothed down your jeans and t-shirt, you might work for the (wo)man, but you weren’t about to dress like a stuck up business person, or like a prison guard. You were too young for that bullshit.

“Baby,” Amanda Waller greeted you as you passed her into the meeting room. You hid your smirk, as you always did, when you took your seat. You’d forged all of your documentation upon taking this job, knowing that you didn’t want this woman knowing anything about your personal life. She didn’t know your real name, hell, she might not even know that Baby was your pseudonym. You sort of felt bad that you hadn’t ever told Rick your name, but you couldn’t risk it.

The debrief was a mess. You’d gotten out with the information the team went in for, but two out of the four of them were injured. Including the Colonel.

“Seems like the only person doing their job here is the fucking chauffer,” Waller spat before turning her eyes on a still-bloodied Rick Flag. “You can do better than this,” she spoke quietly before walking out. The others emptied out, leaving you leaning back in your chair, cotton candy pink Barbie™ t-shirt nearly glowing in the fluorescent lighting.

“I think you’re going to give her an aneurysm. She doesn’t know your identity and you don’t follow the dress code,” Rick had his eyes closed at the end of the long table, but he somehow knew you were alone in there together. You bit your lip. So she knew ‘Baby’ was a pseudonym. Good to know.

“She can’t get rid of me, she needs me,” you shrugged, nonchalant, but this was the wrong answer and you knew it immediately. You’d been working with Rick long enough to see the telltale signs of stress. Tightened shoulders, biceps bulging in his uniform, that vein struggling at his throat.

“You should be out there living your life, Baby,” his eyes shot open, darker than you’d ever seen them. “You shouldn’t be working yourself to death for Amanda Waller. Not like me and these guys. You don’t have a reason to be here,” you looked down, picking at the skull ring on your middle finger. You did have a reason. You were addicted to the feeling of being near Rick. You were obsessed with the way he spoke to you, the way he leaned in close when he was joking around with you, the way his eyes lit up when you made him laugh.

“I’m not about to tell you my life story in an audio and visually recorded meeting room,” you finally spoke, tone harsher than you intended. You stood, turned away from him and towards the door, your voice carrying as you exited. “You’re gonna have to buy me a drink if you want to get anything out of me.”

You didn’t look back to see the slack-jawed look on his face as you sauntered out of the debrief room.

You were in the deep swamp lands of Central Florida this time. Not your favorite place to be. You were blasting the air conditioning in the car as Stick Up by grandson blasted through the car stereo, your favorite angry song to listen to. This wasn’t a job you wanted to be on, but you had a contract and you were making money, and you got to work with Rick again, so it was alright. But it was a new team. Harley was out of jail and Boomer was injured from a prison fight. They were the two people you normally worked with other than Rick.

You had a gut feeling that something was going to go down, but you didn’t know what.

“Start the car!” one of the new members shouted and you frowned. The car was on already. But whatever, you shifted into Drive and waited for Rick and Co. to make it to the car. Only it was just the one guy. He hopped into the backseat and stared at you with wide eyes.

“What are you doing, get us out of here!” He was shouting but you aggressively put the car into Park.

“Where’s Rick? Where’s the rest of the team?”

“Dude, get us out of here!” The man was clearly panicking, and you glanced over at the building the team were supposed to infiltrate, biting your lip.

“Baby, why aren’t you moving?” Waller asked in your ear.

“It’s just the circus freak dude, no Rick, and no team members,” you replied calmly. “What are my orders?”

“Get us out!” The circus freak dude in question (you didn’t bother to ask his name), was bemoaning your existence from the backseat and you snapped. You jerked the center console open and pulled out your gun, pointing it back at him.

“Shut your mouth, or I’ll shut you up myself,” you put all of your fear, rage, and contempt into your glare, staring down the psycho prisoner just enough to put the fear of a woman into him, and he backed down.

“Colonel Flag is alive in there, but he’s the last one. Get in there, pick him up, and get out,” you grinned, shark-like at Waller’s voice. You could do that. You revved the engine, put the car into Drive, and hauled ass towards the building. You tuned out the moaning and wailing from the backseat and flicked the switch that activated your enhanced shields. With that in place, you drove straight towards the brick building at full speed. You could do this. You could do this. You hyped yourself up and didn’t flinch when the car made impact with the wall, immediately breaking through and skidding into a large open room. You looked around, assessing the group of men with guns pointing towards a closed door. Rick must be in there. You flipped another switch, this one with a gun sticker above it, and pulled at the steering wheel to aim the guns that came out of the front of the car. When all of the men finally turned towards you, you opened fire on them.

You’d killed for Waller before, usually by hitting people with the car, and while this was thrilling, you’d never had to actually use a gun on someone before. When they were all down, you pulled the car up, trying to ignore the crunching of bodies under the tires and opened the passenger side window.

“Get in the fucking car, Flag,” you screeched, and the door creaked the tiniest bit open. Rick peeked his head out, looked around for a hot second before locking eyes with you, and walked over before putting his ass in the passenger seat.

“I didn’t know the car had a gun in it,” he muttered, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Oh she has several,” the circus dude piped up from the back, and Rick side eyed you before promptly yelling at the other for leaving him behind. You took that as your cue to get the fuck out of there.

“You haven’t said anything in two hours,” Rick finally said as you entered Louisiana. He’d been on the phone with Waller for a while and then writing his debrief up on his phone.

“I’ve never shot anyone before. It’s a tad stressful,” you didn’t let on how nerve-wracking it had been to think you’d lost him, but you especially didn’t let on how freaked out you were about opening fire on a group of over a dozen men. You shrugged and kept your eyes on the road. He nodded in understanding. You didn’t want to talk about it. You appreciated his silence. When you finally dropped the circus dude off you had about six minutes before making it back to Rick’s dropoff.

“Baby?” He asked as you slowed down for a stop sign. You hummed in question, but he put his hand over yours, and you kept your foot on the brake as he shifted the car into park. You looked over at him, a frown on your face until he reached out and cupped your jaw with one calloused palm. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip and it felt like time wasn’t passing anymore.

“Thank you for coming back for me,” he murmured, and damn you thought he might kiss you. He didn’t, though. He tucked a stray piece of hand behind your ear, the feel of his fingertips caressing your neck made you shiver, and he smirked at the sight. It suddenly dawned on you.

He knew exactly what he did to you. He knew exactly how he was making you feel. That turned you the fuck on. He was teasing you.

“I think I’d like to take you out for that drink tonight, darlin. Maybe you’ll give me a good story. Maybe I’ll finally get your name,” he was so close to you, and god but you wanted to kiss him. But as you leaned in, he leaned back with a growing grin.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll get what you want, too,” he whispered before sitting back in his seat. “I’ll grab you after the debrief,” and that was him dismissing your advances until a later time. So, you put the car into Drive and pulled up to his drop off location. Luckily it had taken all day to get back to Belle Reve, so you’d only have to wait for the debrief to be over and it would be around eight at night. You’d finally get a drink with Rick tonight. You smiled to yourself as you pulled the car into your spot. Things would be changing.

#rick flag imagine #rick flag x you #rick flag imagines #rick flag x reader #rick flag #rick flag x female reader #baby driver inspired #dceu fanfiction #rick flag fanfic #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag dc #the suicide squad #getaway car

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