#to be honest i originally wanted to properly clean up the interaction

[hey-hey-j]

I'm just gonna keep ping-ponging back and forth between plot lines as the inspiration strikes me. That last interaction isn't necessarily 100% canon to the AU but I think Floyd should be allowed a little frustration. As a treat.

(★ my Kofi)

[marshmurmurs]

hey. hey psst. grian & purpled friends au is a banger. you um, you got any more? mayhaps?

Ok so you're gonna have to bear with me for aa few moments since this au is made by someone who hasn't watched Evo in a hot second and someone who I believe hasn't yet finished watching it, so we are mostly working off of fanon and my terrible memory for Watcher stuff

With that said, you've heard of Watcher!Grian, now get ready for Watcher!Purpled too :D

So you’re probably wondering how in the world we got here. It started with Peggy mentioning that Purpled got a clean view of both Tommy’s duel with Dream and Phil taking out Wil. That’s enough for me to start the Watcher propaganda babey!!!

“They watch but cannot be seen”

I'm pretty sure I yoinked this quote from a sign that showed up in some Watcher thing at some point. Purpled sure does watch. I also believe he has done some messing around with replay mod to see inside the prison or something? So yeah, Watcher boy be looking. And the “cannot be seen” part? He’s constantly falling into the background, almost forgotten, and maybe it's in his very nature.

Grian and Purp were both Watchers, though their time as Watchers only briefly overlapped. Purpled was already a Watcher during Evo times, having been picked up by the Watchers while traveling the void in his spaceship. They had promised him he would become something greater than himself, he would be part of something important, he would have a legacy. Purpled went along with them, at first, it wasn’t like he really had anything better to be doing. Besides, the magic and wings he got out of the deal were pretty cool.

It was when the Watchers started looking to recruit Grian that Purpled started to question why he was there. That legacy they promised him, he wasn't sure if they ever delivered on that. If anything, it was the Watchers that were benefiting off of him. The Evolutionists were the only people who were confident in their existence, and even then, they only knew of the group as a whole. They had no idea how many of them there were or of any of the individuals within. He doesn’t think that was ever what he wanted out of joining the Watchers... He wasn’t actually sure what he had wanted out of them.

Purpled noticed the Watchers focusing their attention on Grian, he saw how they worked to break down his will to rebel. Sure, he had joined them, but it wasn't like he had been told all their rules upfront. Naturally the guy who had continuously tested the limits of their patience when they had been some unknown power wouldn’t stop that just because he was one of them now. Grian would push the limits of what he was allowed to do, finding loopholes, dancing around the rules, and even outright breaking them at times. The two interacted a few times and Purpled liked the guy well enough. He liked him enough to break the rules himself and not report Grian when he caught him breaking some rules, he even pointed out a few spots in the rules where the phrasing could be exploited. Still, he recognized the opportunity Grian’s presence provided him. Purpled was no longer the newest Watcher, no longer constantly under their gaze. He could just leave, and if he was smart about it, he could get away and have plenty of time before anyone noticed.

So he did. With a final o7 to Grian, Purpled left. Their final encounter within the Watchers domain went something like this:

Purpled: Hey do you want some advice?

Grian: Sure

Purpled: *walks away never to be seen again within the Watcher’s domain*

It was only later that Grian realized what the advice was, long after he began sneaking out, began testing the limits of what he could do. It was long after he figured out that an eye couldn't really look within itself and he could use the very powers the Watchers had given him to hide himself from them, long after he'd made his own domain, long after he'd slipped away to a land he created specifically to stay out of their sight and reach that he realized what the advice was. Purpled had left. His advice was to leave. Grian had—albeit unknowingly—followed that advice.

Purpled had taken a much different method to getting away. Instead of making himself untraceable, he hid in plain sight. He went to Hypixel and made a name for himself playing Bedwars. With each game he won, with each game he clutched, he amassed supporters. Players, believers and doubters alike, began to bet on the outcome of his matches. Purpled had made himself seen. He knew the Watchers knew he was there, but that was the point. They couldn’t reach him, not without breaking their own rules, at least. Unlike the two Players turned Watchers, the original Watchers cared deeply for and were bound by their rules. Even if they had tried anything, Purpled managed to create his own legacy, making for himself what they never could. Beyond that, he'd found friends, he'd built a community, surrounded himself with people who would look for him and make themselves a problem for the Watchers if they tried to make him go back. They were forced to sit by and do nothing as he continuously broke their most important rule.

Purpled didn't need the Watchers, he never did.

Grian didn't really know how he felt about the Watchers. He didn't think he hated them, not really. The Watchers had given him a taste of true freedom then immediately began to restrain him. They'd given him wings and the power to create worlds in mere seconds, something which would not only take a regular Admin a much longer time, it would require a significant amount of preparation. He was given the world at his fingertips but was limited by the long list of rules the Watchers enforced. He doesn't regret joining them—he wouldn't give up his wings for the world—but they just weren't enough. The more they tried to make him fit their mold of a perfect little Watcher, the more sure of that he became.

It was almost funny, the Watchers had become stricter in order to prevent another Purpled situation. They were trying to ensure Grian wouldn’t leave them too, but in doing so, they had given him reason to. He was a bit curious though, he wondered what Purpled was up to now. Grian hadn’t gotten news about him since he’d left the Watchers.

So Grian went to Hypixel, he wanted to see if he could track down Purpled. He knew the other was there, judging by the leaderboards, but he couldn’t seem to catch him around the hub. He managed to track down gamblers betting on Purpled's victories. Grian followed that lead, tailing the person who was updating them on the results of Purpled's matches. Somehow that person continued to find intel without Grian catching where Purpled was. It made no sense, and if he was being honest with himself, it had long since reached the point of being frustrating. Eventually, after an infuriating amount of dead ends Grian decided he may as well play a few games before calling it a day and heading home. He tried a few solo matches of bedwars and while PvP wasn't really his thing, he had to admit throwing fireballs at people was pretty fun.

Grian finding Purpled wasn't even intentional on his part. At that point he wasn’t even actively looking or playing the game properly. He’d simply started building houses after politely asking people to leave him alone with varying levels of success. After a few games, he received a friend request from the person who had won the last match with a message inviting him to join them for some doubles. Grian accepted after a moment of thought, they seemed polite enough. They had left him for last when it would’ve been way easier and much more convenient to just continue their clockwise sweep.

It didn’t take Grian long to realize that his new companion was nicked, though to be fair, he was too. It’s not that he particularly cared when someone was nicked, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. There was something about this person, the way they held themself, the general energy around them, something that just felt so familiar. Try as he might, though, Grian couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

It was when he noticed the absolute confidence and ease in which his companion threw themself into the void that Grian finally gave in to his curiosity. Players usually avoid the void, and even if they did jump into it for strategic purposes, he's never seen anyone

recover as fast as his companion did. While they ran off to go stab someone who was getting too close to their area for comfort, Grian tried to look past their disguise. He was met with resistance, surprisingly. Usually looking past a Player being nicked was no issue. He pushed harder, it was more than just curiosity at this point, he needed to know who this was, why they were able to resist him. Somehow the results were worse this time. Grian realized with increasing bewilderment that he could no longer even see his companion. His teammate was just gone, there one moment and gone the next.

Grian blinked away the purple in his eyes, focusing on his surroundings. There were no new bridges leading away, his teammate was still in the game, and they hadn't died. Where could they have gone? He continued to scan the island when he was suddenly hit with the overwhelming sense of being watched. There, standing beside him was his teammate, eyes glowing the same purple Grian's had moments before.

"Something wrong, Grian?"

It all clicked for him then. His nicked companion was the guy he had been looking for the entire time, he’d only just now decided to reveal himself. Of course Grian’s Watcher abilities hadn’t helped, Purpled had way more power here than he did. He was just a guest in the other’s domain, he never had a chance of finding him if he hadn’t wanted to be found.

“Y’know, you could have been a lot clearer.”

“Rule 7. Besides, you figured it out, didn’t you?”

Once they reunited, the two realized they still got along well. They agreed to keep in contact, and they did. Grian would sometimes hop onto Hypixel to join Purpled for a few games—always nicked, they didn’t want the Watchers to realize they were in contact— and other times he'd drag him off to a creative world to challenge him to a game of build swap or various flying courses he’d created. The two often swapped tips and tricks for things they were good at. Grian would give Purpled lessons on building, block palettes, and flying (he argued the other only ever really using his wings while voiding didn’t count). In exchange, Purple would try to give him advice on various things he’d picked up from playing bedwars: block clutches, speedbridging, and general PvP.

When Purpled was invited onto the DreamSMP, he was fairly excited. He loved what he had going on with Hypixel and his friends there, but part of him had always wanted this. Ever since he was with the Watchers, overlooking everything on Evo and worlds before that, part of him had wished to be on the other side of things. This desire only grew stronger as he heard the tales of what Grian got up to on Hermitcraft.

The Dream SMP was nothing like he expected it to be. It turned out to be a hardcore world, only 3 “lives” allowed per player. There were also seemingly infinite respawns, though, which made no sense. He wasn’t sure which was more annoying: the unclear respawn rules or the fact that he was never told about them before he agreed to join.

Besides that, there was also some entity with a great amount of power, even more than the admin himself. Purpled had noticed their presence fairly quickly upon joining and he was immediately on edge. He had no information on the being, their power, their motives, nothing. And that felt dangerous. Purpled had unintentionally ended up falling back into old habits from working with the Watchers as he tried to establish himself in this world. He claimed land for his own, carving out his own domain within that of the unknown god while trying to avoid catching their attention. Eventually, once he was comfortable enough within the world, he began trying to reach out, trying to get involved in the things that were happening. He heard there was a war brewing, and if he learned anything from Grian, things were about to get really fun.

They didn’t.

His attempts to involve himself mostly failed, so he went back to doing what he had before. He claimed more and more land and continued watching over events from the sidelines. Things got serious, conflicts got personal, and unless he was directly pulled in by someone he considered a friend, Purpled just watched.

Anyway my excuse for whatever is going on with their designs is that Watchers can control how they are perceived. This is my city and I want them to have cool wings. Also Peggy was supposed to be my impulse control but the memo got lost in the mail and she never got it, so she enabled me instead. Now we have both funky dragon/parrot vibes on Grian and vague alien/phantom/vex vibes on Purpled

[barbenheimer-core]

AUDERE EST FACERE !

하나. chanel : part four — 3k words

Wangja crossed the street with a bag of two steaming bowls of ramyeon and red ginseng, speeding up his pace to prevent the noodles from getting too soggy while he walked the path over to his shop where he had left Ahyeong at, sighing as he thought about the new addition to the cast.

When he had walked into his store last night, he was not expecting a stage to commence immediately upon entering the lounge.

Thank the writer (this was the first and last time he was going to say that) that their conversation and actions had already been written out, or else the shop owner would've been gawking at the new girl for the entirety of the stage.

He had been immensely startled back then; it was unusual for him to not know the timing and plot of every stage because he always made sure to check the comic that permanently resided in a small, hidden corner of his shop every single day.

But when he had browsed the comic as soon as Ahyeong had left, he had been bewildered at the sudden shift in the book's contents.

The cast page had been altered to feature four main characters instead of the original trio, and as he had turned the pages, he had noticed the new stages being inked with interactions that had never been present as of before.

To think that an already complicated web of troubling relationships had not been enough for the writer, they had proceeded to add a love square to the mix.

Wangja grimaced at his creator's choices in life. They had definitely been influenced by someone to do so if it had been so last minute.

But one thing was for sure; out of all the stories that the writer had put him in, this was by far the most interesting.

"Ahyeong-ah! I'm back!" he yelled into the air as he stepped in, his voice echoing in the shop.

The silence was his only response.

Confused, he stepped through the streamers that decorated the lounge's archway, eyes searching for the girl while he set the food down on the coffee table next to the abandoned copy of Shiver.

"Ahyeong, are you here-"

He stopped abruptly, gaze finding the peach cover of True Beauty toppled upside down on the floor in front of a shelf he swore no one would notice.

With dread in his mind, he picked it up, turning it around, only to be faced by the drawn version of the person he was looking for.

Oh no. She'd seen it.

If Gilyeong had to describe his sister at that moment, he would've said she looked like she'd risen from a grave in a zombie apocalypse movie.

She looked dead. Alive, yes, but dead.

Like someone had told her whole life was a lie.

When Ahyeong had arrived back home from wherever she had dashed off to during the morning, she had looked like she'd gone through the five stages of grief, questioned the meaning of life, and ran a marathon through the streets of Seoul by how hard she was breathing.

He had almost asked her if she was okay, but that would've come off as him being "concerned for his dear sister," as Eunjung had so uselessly put it, and he hated proving people right. And besides, Ahyeong was clearly not okay.

"Oye, grinch," he called out across the table after seeing her actions.

She looked as if she hadn't even heard him. No annoyed flinch, no irritated twitching of her eyebrow; no reaction at all. Just her mindlessly trying to eat soup with chopsticks.

Eunjung looked at her with an extreme amount of concern.

Gilyeong almost puked at the feeling of worry in his gut.

Ahyeong was functioning on auto-pilot, her consciousness having taken a backseat as the only thing that moved her was sheer muscle memory.

She couldn't even remember how she had come back to her house, however, the stinging in her legs informed her of how she had deserted the shop and ran all the way back home, much to Driver Kwon's horror.

Her head felt empty.

Being in a comic? As a bully? That had to be the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard, or read, about herself.

It did not make sense. She was quite literally a model student, with a record as clean as glass. Being reduced to the likes of a bully? Impossible.

And then the derealisation came in.

This probably wasn't real after all. Maybe it was just one big practical joke blown out of proportion.

Yeah, that was it, she concluded as she finally became aware of her surroundings, dropping the chopsticks in her hands with a confused look and picking up a spoon to continue eating her soup, unaware of the small breath of relief from across the table.

That weird paralysis thing hadn't happened since the other day anyway, so she was probably going to be okay.

TURN.

What a fucking lie, you're kidding—

The doors to the house banged open, harshly knocking against the walls and startling the occupants of the dining room.

Song Hwayoung came inside the house, immediately making Eunjung receive her in a hurry and assist her with taking off her coat and setting her a pair of slippers.

Ahyeong was panicking. Why now? The universe was being unnecessarily cruel. Her body felt like a rock, cemented into the ground. The air got colder, the lights felt different, brighter somehow, as if someone was shining a spotlight down on her family, as if a grim situation was about to ensue.

Ahyeong almost got up to greet her mother, but sat back down after seeing the subtle shake of Gilyeong's head, who hastily looked down at his empty plate after Hwayoung came to sit at the head of the table.

Her mother looked like she had been trying to bottle up her anger the whole day, and the cap was finally about to burst.

Ahyeong felt unsettled at the sudden change in demeanor. Her mother had never gotten this furious before, ever. She attempted to stand, but she was glued to her seat and could only watch as Hwayoung glared daggers at Gilyeong.

She threw a stack of papers in front of Gilyeong, who shrunk into his seat when he saw its contents.

"What is this?" Hwayoung inquired, trying her best to appear calm.

The young boy mumbled a reply in a voice so small that it was barely audible.

Hwayoung flared her nostrils, "Say it louder!"

Both siblings flinched at the volume. "My report card," the youngest said shakily.

Why was her mum flipping over a simple report card? It's not like grades mattered—

"Even I know that it's a fucking report card. What I want to know is why your grades dropped to C's and D's and why the hell you're failing in math?"

Ahyeong's eyes widened, either involuntarily or of her own free will, she didn't know. Hwayoung cursing at her brother and raging over his academic report? That was quite literally the opposite of how her mother was. Hwayoung was supposed to be the sweetest person she'd ever known, understanding and supportive through every endeavor.

For a moment she considered if her mother had been replaced by a clone of a crueler version of her. With the bullshit that was happening to her right now, the theory did not even feel that far-fetched.

At Gilyeong's silence, Hwayoung scoffed, "All of this was happening and you didn't even bother telling me? I was in a phone call with your friend's mother who told me her son had scored first place but when she mentioned how you weren't even in the top ten do you know how humiliated I felt?"

She stood up abruptly, throwing her chair back, which was immediately caught by Eunjung, and scowled at the boy, not a single trace of warmth in her eyes that her daughter was familiar with, "What an embarrassment to the Song name. At least your sister fares better than you."

With that, she stalked away, heels clicking against the marble floors as she retreated to her room.

TURN .

Ahyeong got up as soon as she could control her movements, rushing over to Gilyeong whose eyes had become red and puffy as he sniffled.

She pulled him in between her arms, and he shook uncontrollably, Eunjung watching the ordeal with downtrodden eyes, wishing she could help.

This was far beyond what she thought would happen. No, that woman could not have been their mother.

As she put her brother to sleep that night, she came to a solution.

Stepping into the elevator to reach Cloud9 Officetel's terrace the next day, her resolve strengthened.

This nightmare was ending, one way or the other.

Jugyeong was quite possibly living the worst nightmare she'd ever had.

The world was too cruel. Beauty was only on the inside, they said. What a horrible lie.

She had been humiliated beyond measure. All she tried to do was convey her honest feelings to quite possibly the only person who had ever been genuinely kind to her. She would've been fine if Wang Hyunbin had simply rejected her and decided to stay as friends. But for him and Semi to destroy her pride and self-worth like that? Because of how she looked?

She felt her eyes burning with warm tears before they cascaded down her cheeks, the cold wind at the top of the building harshly biting at her skin and rattling her bones.

She shivered.

Cold, it was too cold. What a day to die.

Jugyeong's hands hovered over her phone's screen as she stared at her mother's contact. Would her family even mourn her? Good riddance, they would probably think.

But she had to tell someone, and even if her mother was harsh with her words, she still loved her. She had to tell her the reason why she was about to jump off of a building.

Just as her finger leaned down to press the call button, the door to the rooftop opened, and Jugyeong jumped in shock, turning around to see who had come in.

She did a double-take.

Was God personally consenting to her taking her own life? Because she was pretty sure he had sent down an angel to escort her soul into heaven.

Her glasses had been abandoned on the bench she'd been sitting on from when she had been trying to wipe her tears, so she couldn't really see the person properly, but even with bad eyesight, the stranger looked almost ethereal.

They were dressed in a black dress and heels, as if they had gone to a funeral, or were planning to go to one.

They stopped upon seeing Jugyeong's disheveled self.

Was God finally being kind to her in her final moments?

Mind in a haze and not thinking straight, Jugyeong broke down yet again.

Ahyeong was startled at the girl crying in front of her. She didn't think there was going to be someone else up there other than herself.

When she looked closer at the girl who was sobbing uncontrollably in front of her, she noticed who it was, immediately taking a few steps back on instinct.

Moon Gayoung? Why was she in a school uniform— oh.

You've got to be kidding me.

What luck she had, walking right into the girl this world literally revolved around.

She felt something pulling away at her in the back of her mind, sending warning bells down her spine, saying she wasn't supposed to be there. But why?

Ahyeong's heart almost burst out of her ribcage when Jugyeong threw herself at her, clutching almost painfully at her waist and sobbing into her dress.

She froze at the sudden contact, arms awkwardly hovering over the girl's shoulders.

Jugyeong had probably not recognized her yet, because there was no way she was hugging her future tormentor just like that.

"Th-thank y-y-you for c-coming," the girl said between choked breaths, "F-for being- for being here in my—" she struggled to say the words, "—my final moments."

Ahyeong stilled at that.

By the time her words had registered, she already knew what was happening.

This was the scene from the drama, she remembered, when Jugyeong had tried to kill herself because of the incident at school.

How ironic. Ahyeong almost laughed at her situation, they were here for the same fate for almost the same reason. Both didn't like the world that they lived in.

But for the Song girl, this was a test, really. A theory she came up with in the dead of the night.

The sensation of falling, that knee-jerk reaction, and the feeling of finally waking up from your dream. That was what she was hoping for. She wasn't here to die, she was here to go back to living her own life.

But the girl who clung to her was dead set on ending things, and frankly, that was a dreadful thought.

Ahyeong had no intention of leaving her as she was, be this a fictional world or not, Im Jugyeong was a human being who deserved a lot more than she got.

"Were you going to jump?"

Jugyeong's thoughts came to a halt as the Angel asked a question, the oddly familiar lilt of her voice bringing a strange mix of foreboding and warmth in her gut.

Still shaking, she only nodded against her shoulder.

"Why?"

"Because-" she sniffled, tightening her arms around them, "because everyone hates me," her voice faded at the end, and her wobbly knees gave in, making her sink into the hard floor and dragging the person along with her.

This time, the Angel wrapped her arms around her, rubbing soothing circles into her back.

"Jugyeong, things may seem horrible for you at the moment, and you have every right to be upset over what was said and done, but it is impossible to know answers to such questions when you're so overwhelmed."

The words cut through her haziness, her cries slowly stopping as what they said registered in Jugyeong's mind.

"You don't really want to die, do you?"

It felt weird, being told such things by a stranger.

Maybe deep down she had already known, but her despair had overtaken her senses and disregarded her common sense.

"Why were you really about to call your mother?"

Because she was hoping someone would stop her. To make sure someone really did care about her despite appearances.

The Angel patted her back, and slowly pulled away, only to firmly place their hands on Jugyeong's shoulders.

"Your family's waiting."

She didn't need to be told twice.

Maybe God was kinder than she thought.

It was getting dark now.

The cold evening air nipped at her skin as Ahyeong stood on the edge, heels digging into the concrete as she gazed down below.

What a hypocrite she was, telling all those things to Jugyeong.

She'd sent her home with a taxi after their ordeal, and Jugyeong had not even looked at her once through the whole thing.

She didn't know why.

The road was buzzing with activity, cars zooming past on asphalt, people walking home on the footpaths, vendors selling seasonal goods by the side.

It seemed to be a normal day.

She wondered how the rest of their day would go if her body suddenly flopped down there.

Gooseflesh rose on her arms. All of this was too real.

She slapped herself, the stinging spreading through her numb skin and making her wince in pain.

What was she doing? Was she really about to jump off a building just to test a theory out?

What if it failed? The pain in her cheek would pale in comparison to what would happen should she fall.

And the people waiting for her back home, thinking she was off paying her respects to an old friend. Gilyeong and Eunjung would be destroyed.

Ahyeong stepped back. No, she couldn't do this. She wasn't planning on dying today. Or anytime soon really.

She'd just have to get used to living here—

TURN.

Song Ahyeong stepped closer to the edge of the building, awaiting her doom.

What the fuck!? She didn't want to die, shit, shit, shit—

The LED screen behind her lit up in hues of pink and purple, colorful shadows falling on her dress that did nothing against the frigid wind.

Jung Seyeon's face graced the billboard in the distance, an ode from the people to celebrate the day he was born, and an apology for being the reason he died.

One more step and she would fall. No, no, one more step and she'd fall—

Ahyeong leaned forward closing her eyes for the last time.

NO!

And so, she fell backward.

Wait, backward?

TURN.

Ahyeong barely registered the iron grip on her wrist before it was tugged hard, her stiletto losing its balance and twisting her foot at an unnatural angle.

She widened her eyes as her vision blurred, surroundings moving too fast, and braced herself for the impact on the rough concrete.

It never came.

Instead, she fell on the person who had taken the liberty of pulling her back, and subsequently saving her. Groaning, she raised her head, squinting against the bright light of the advertisement.

"What a relief," Suho breathed out.

The ColorBeauty commercial cast the glow of its neon colors over their faces, and as the faint melody of Seyeon's voice filled the silence in the air, Song Ahyeong knew that somehow, she had fucked up.

masterlist

© 2021 Alfia Sheikh, All Rights Reserved

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Seventeen ~ Split

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1482

Warnings: None

A/n Hello hello! I know it’s not one of my normal update days, but this one is short, so enjoy this angsty bonus chapter!

Cosima

Weeks pass in routine. In the mornings I research with Alex or study Sindarin alone, sometimes venturing into the garden or library to occupy my time. The lunch hours are typically spent in the company of friends, and Lavandil and I have been passing many of our afternoons together in her shop. As the summer continues, business only grows, and I can see why she asked for the help. Her art is quite popular! She tried to teach me how to weave and, unsurprisingly, I’m terrible. So I mainly help clean and work with the customers.

Three nights a week, Alex, Baranor and I meet in the library and continue our lessons. On that, I actually am making progress. It’s allowed me to converse with Lavandil’s customers in their own language. It’s also helped me feel much more self-sufficient here. No longer must I have to rely on Lavandil or Rumil to translate when we go out. Ellyn I speak with still have to slow their words and repeat things several times, and sometimes I must ask for clarification, but the progress really is liberating.

Two days a week, right after breakfast, Alex and I meet Elrond in his study.

Lord Elrond insists on using the power in his fæ to attempt to aid us in recovering our memories. I hate to admit it, but his efforts are wasted and, on my part, not really wanted. Besides the memory of Mara and Nonna, I don’t remember anything, and at this point, I’m not sure I want to. I’m already too attached to the people here, and I’ve seen where that’s gotten me. I don’t want to remember people from home — love them, miss them, and then realize I can never return to them.

I don’t make much progress, anyway. Most days, Alex and I have nothing but headaches and exhaustion to show for our work. Every now and then, one of us will remember something small — a passing event or an aquauntaince from childhood — but nothing of real interest. Elrond agrees that the headaches and exhaustion are signs that we are not yet healed from whatever ordeal resulted in us arriving in Arda. He’s been keeping an eye on our fæs — apparently they are somehow injured — and says that the original wounds are all but healed.

Alex’s progress is less encouraging. His old wounds are healing, but nearly every time Elrond or Baranor checks, there’s a new injury. They don’t know what’s causing it, but privately, I have a theory. While Alex says he’s accepted this world, knowing him, there’s a part that’s still hanging on to our homeworld. Maybe that’s causing too much stress to allow him to heal. Because I’m healing, and I’ve fully accepted this world for what it is — impossible, different, but real.

And then at night time, training continues with Haldir.

I am careful to keep distance between us except when absolutely necessary. By the way he does the same, he’s recognized the urgent precariousness of our situation. As much as I want to confess the feelings I keep so tightly bottled up inside, to fall into his arms and ask him to love me forever, I cannot.

Because my forever is abysmally different than his.

So I keep my distance.

My effort to avoid excessive contact or time with him is helped by the fact that, not long after our first training session, he became incredibly busy. Though relations between him and Glorfindel are still tense, the two work tirelessly to train the newer guard. Often, by the time I make my way down to breakfast, Haldir is long gone, off to lead drills.

The distance between us hasn’t helped my internal predicament.

Too often, I catch myself following the line of his jaw, remembering the feeling of his arms wrapped around me, wanting to return to that excitement of just the two of us under the stars.

I don’t act on these thoughts, nor communicate them to anyone, though Lavandil certainly tries to break that resolve. She’s adamant that, even with my lifespan to consider, it is better to spend the time we have together in happiness rather than holding ourselves back from something that could be great.

I forcefully disagree.

I’d rather cause myself a little pain now than put Haldir in a position where he could be broken later.

Surprisingly, Rumil, once my tormentor, has become my closest ally. Any time someone attempts to bring up the subject of me and Haldir, Rumil promptly shuts it down, usually changing the subject to something outlandish enough to properly distract everyone. He kindly occupies my newfound free time and we go riding together at least once a week. Since Rumil has Roch, Haldir allows me to take Faervel out, and, where the horse used to be indifferent towards me at best, he now whinnies in greeting the second I set foot in the stables.

My life in Imladris is nice. It’s peaceful. It’s filled with wonderful friends and so much to discover. And I’m happy, there’s no doubt about that…even if something is missing. I caught my feelings early and took preventative action by distancing myself from Haldir, which is good…but it’s…unfulfilling, in a way, to stay far from him. I miss eating meals together and talking about our days before training sessions. I miss constantly having him around. I miss him teasing me and moments where it’s just us.

I miss him.

But I won’t lose my resolve.

If my sadness can save Haldir pain, then I will bear it.

{***}

Haldir

Summer in Imladris passes quickly. My days revolve around training the newer guard, and they show promising progress. Lothlórien’s borders are much more extensive than that of Imladris’, and I am confident adopting some of the techniques I use with my wardens at home to fit Elrond’s guard will help them be more prepared when the orcs attack again. My brothers have been indispensable, kindly offering their help and allowing me to use them as examples for the other soldiers. Orophin, of course, plans his schedule around Lavandil’s, but I have him with us about three days a week. Rumil joins nearly every day, only disappearing on Saturday mornings to take the horses out with Cosima.

Cosima.

My mind has been consumed by her for weeks.

If I am being honest, it’s been consumed with her long before then, probably up to the moment she arrived in this world. I now understand that my desire to keep her near me after the attack, and every moment after, was not only a preventative measure to make her feel better — it was my need to keep her close. To keep her safe. To have that reassurance that she is alright, and, if we were to be attacked again, I could defend her myself.

I really do owe Rumil an apology.

Turns out my brother knows me better than I know myself.

But despite the startling realization that I want to be with a human woman—not just any human woman, Cosima—the days continue.

Not of small concern is Cosima’s health which, mercifully, is improving. Her sessions with Elrond to attempt to regain her memories must be helping — though her memories have not returned, the scars on her fæ are nearly completely healed.

Aside from my monitoring of her health through Elrond and Baranor, my busy schedule prevents me from seeking her out. We continue to train together three times a week — she is making vast improvements — but our interactions are hesitant, a little awkward. I worry I overstepped my bounds that first night, or perhaps, even before that — maybe the night under the stars — for she certainly keeps her distance now. No longer do we eat together or talk in our free time. It’s a strange feeling, but it causes me stress not to see her during the day. Even a quick interaction would be enough, just to catch a glimpse of her smile or hear the approval of her laugh, but those are few and far between.

But, as much as it pains me, it is for the best.

I hate to think of it this way, but Cosima’s life is short and her future uncertain. Were she an elleth, there would be no issue — I could tell her of my feelings and she could return them and we could spend the rest of our never-ending lives together.

But Cosima is human. Even if she does choose to stay in Arda forever, her forever and mine are vastly different. If I give in, do as I so desperately want to and build a life with her…

She does not know it, but she has the power to break me.

And, while I still hold a sliver of the ability to keep that from happening, I must seize on it.

A/n Thanks for reading, and happy weekend! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day! See you Monday with a new chapter :)

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[adifferenttime]

Honest Hearts: A Rough Rewrite

Hey! I’ve been working on an Honest Hearts rewrite-type-thing for a bit and figured I’d solicit feedback/assemble a post to store some of these ideas.

A detailed explanation of the premise is under the cut, but I’ve made this as a more interesting reintroduction to major locations, along with the characters who live there. I also have some lore consisting of letters, scripture, and holotapes that’s still in the early stages, along with a complete companion wheel for Salt-Upon-Wounds (he’ll follow you around for a little if you decide to help him out). Endings are now finished as well. I’m not planning on expanding this into a full mod, but I’m assembling everything in Twine so I can utilize branching dialogue and mimic skill checks.

I want to keep adding to and editing this because I’m having fun with it, so if you have any input, let me know!

Essentially, the story proceeds as written up until the point where Daniel sends you to either kill the White Legs or destroy their war totems. You quickly realize that their camp is deserted, at which point Salt-Upon-Wounds ambushes you, convo-locks you, and tells you that there’s an entirely different side to things here that you might not have considered.

Factions

The Mormons have established a theocracy in the Utah called Deseret, with New Jerusalem - what was once Salt Lake City - as its capital. Large numbers of them survived the initial apocalypse due to their pre-War focus on strong community ties and disaster prepping; over time, they have returned to the model of self-sufficient agrarianism that characterized the historical Mormon state of Deseret that existed in Utah in the 1800s. Their President, who wields supreme executive power, is also their Prophet. The Mormons believe he communes directly with God, but there’s some discontent in New Jerusalem over his hands-off approach to foreign policy and unwillingness to assemble a standing army. The Elders of the Priesthood are pushing him to allow for some kind of formal military to oppose what they see as revived versions of their ancestral enemies: America, Rome, and the “Lamanites” (this is what Mormons call Indigenous Americans; the “Lamanite” idea has historically been used as a justification for racism, and I’m reflecting that here because it’d be kind of heinous not to). In more than a few respects, Deseret serves as a mirror to the Legion and an exploration of the other side of the coin re: the tactics utilized by colonial empires to present themselves as legitimate while still claiming territory and steamrolling the opposition.

The White Legs are now more explicitly Shoshone, and I’m relying most heavily on the Timpanagos Band for names and historical inspiration (apparently the question of whether they’re Ute or Shoshone is pretty controversial, but I’m sticking with what the Timpanagos have said about it until someone corrects me). After migrating south in the wake of the Great War, the White Legs eventually settled in Ogden, about a day north of New Jerusalem. Initial interactions with the Mormons were friendly, but as New Jerusalem grew and its need for farmland and resources increased, tensions rose before culminating in open violence in around ‘76 or ‘77. Deseret’s party line is that the White Legs conducted a “raid” on one of their settlements and had to be driven away from Ogden; the White Legs claim the violence was not a raid, but a revenge killing after a Mormon killed a young man and was found not guilty by Mormon legal authorities (this is a theocracy, so “legal authorities” here can be understood as indistinct from “the church”). The Mormons established a new settlement on the ruins of Ogden, which they called New Canaan, and the White Legs fled to Salt Lake, where they have been dwindling in number ever since. Salt-Upon-Wounds’ plan to seek entry to the Legion is a last-ditch attempt to save his people from eradication when their neighbors and the land itself seems intent on killing them (not that that makes all the war crimes ok, which is a sentiment you’ll be able to express to his face if you engage him in conversation).

The Dead Horses are a pastoral society from out of Dead Horse Point, and are split almost down the middle along political lines. The more conservative, religious side opposes intervention in Zion. Graham desecrates the corpses of his enemies as an intimidation tactic, and because the Dead Horses’ religion is so eschatological and heavily focused on properly cleaning, preparing, and interring the dead, a big chunk of the religious leadership opposes him on that basis - they think his tactics are ungodly. They’re also worried that any Dead Horses who die in Zion and are interred there will be severed from their connection to Dead Horse Point and doomed to a separate, lonely afterlife. The younger, more progressive elements of the tribe are less traditionalist, sometimes less religious, and overall not as concerned about Graham’s treatment of the dead because of the potential benefit they might be able to derive from him. Follows-Chalk is their de facto leader, and while the Dead Horses don’t formally allocate political power, he’s among the most influential people in the informal tribal leadership. Most of the Dead Horses who’ve come to Zion have done so either because they support Follows-Chalk politically, or for practical reasons - namely, Graham’s access to a dizzying number of guns and his willingness to give them to anyone who’ll fight for him.

The Sorrows are now a terrace-farming agrarian society instead of hunter-gatherers (Zion has a lot of agricultural potential, and there’s already a few farming plots in the Sorrows camp you see in-game, so it’s not a huge departure from the canon). I’m keeping their Mexican heritage, but I’d like to give them some Ainu influences as well - partially for selfish reasons, but also because bears are extremely important to our culture and theology, which gels well with the elements of Sorrows culture and religion that appear in the canon. I’d like to keep the Survivalist because I like him, but I want to expand on their faith. One of the ways I’m doing that is by deciding they can still read English, even though they no longer speak it; it’s basically their equivalent of liturgical Latin. They’re also rigidly matriarchal and in contrast to the Dead Horses (who eschew formal political hierarchies) or the White Legs (who elect a chief who serves until he dies, is deposed, or voluntarily abdicates), leadership positions are allocated through matrilineal primogeniture; Waking Cloud inherited her position from her mother. Religious leadership, likewise, is only available to women. You’ll be able to talk to Waking Cloud about some of the ways this framework is incompatible with the Mormon perspective, and can appeal to her desire to retain power.

Characters

Canon Characters

Joshua Graham and Daniel are largely unaltered except through the addition of lore that gives insight into their cultures, motives, and pasts.

All three tribal leaders (Follows-Chalk, Waking Cloud, and Salt-Upon-Wounds) are either given new backstories, a different set of motives, or different approaches to one another/Graham and Daniel. They’re also explicitly leaders now - what power Graham and Daniel have, they derive from whichever tribal leader they’ve managed to attach themselves to. Of those three, I’m altering Waking Cloud the least and Salt-Upon-Wounds the most. Like I mentioned, I have a companion wheel for him so far and the bones of two other conversations - one, where you meet him for the first time, and the second, where you speak to him before the final battle. Will link as I finish them.

Original Characters

Each tribal leader now has a rival or right hand within their tribe so I can reflect the different ways the values of a specific community can express themselves.

Follows-Chalk’s primary rival among the Dead Horses is a man who refuses to tell you his name. That’s because using someone’s name in casual conversation is considered unspeakably rude, and the fact that Follows-Chalk is willing to share his own with you is, to Mysteriously Named Old Man Character, yet another sign of how disrespectful and laissez-faire Follows-Chalk is about their shared traditions. Old Man Character is suspicious of you initially, but if you speak to him more he starts to warm to you. The goal is to give you a sense that this he’s pretty xenophobic but for good reasons, and despite his political conflicts with Follows-Chalk, has a lot of love for him. He just wants what’s best for his family, and Follows-Chalk is part of that, even if Mysteriously Named Old Man Character thinks he’s making the wrong choices.

Kiiki is Salt-Upon-Wounds’ right-hand woman and intended as a contrast re: the approach to war and its costs. Salt-Upon-Wounds has done some horrible things and gets a fair bit of dialogue about that, but Kiiki is willing to go even further than he has with very little prompting. Her chief copes with what he’s done by trying to assure himself that the ends of war are worth the cost; Kiiki deals with it by trying to convince herself that the means weren't so bad, actually, and that anyone who isn’t nailing corpses to walls is being naive. All of that makes her sound pretty shitty, but she’s nowhere near as devoted to the idea of a Legion alliance as Salt-Upon-Wounds is. It only takes one very low Speech check to convince her that going Legion is a bad move, and one of the paths involves assassinating Salt-Upon-Wounds and installing her as the new leader as a way to stop the White Legs from joining Caesar. I haven’t added this path to the ending Twine because I’d like to finish Kiiki’s dialogues before I do that.

I’m replacing White Bird as the Sorrow’s spiritual leader with a woman named Imekanu. She’s incredibly old, savvy, and knowledgeable - she’s never been outside Zion, but has a store of books in English, Spanish, and Japanese that have allowed her some insight into what caused the war, if not the current state of the world. She’s also aware of the Survivalist’s origins - not because she’s entered any of his hideouts, but because she’s read over the scriptures and has correctly identified them as letters. Her perspective is that the Father in the Caves was a human being, but that doesn’t diminish his religious value. She sees him as analogous to the Buddha or a Catholic saint: human, sure, but still with access to some deeper truths about the purpose of man and the nature of human goodness. You’ll discover that this idea (that the Survivalist was a holy man rather than a literal god) is the most common perspective among the Sorrows, and you can talk to her about how this departs from Daniel’s perspective that the archetypal Father is divine, not human.

Quests

Each tribe has a specific quest that will either lower or bypass some of the penultimate checks that will determine your ending (people are more likely to believe what you’re telling them if you’ve already won their trust).

The Dead Horses: Joshua Graham has been putting the heads of the fallen up on pikes across Zion. The Dead Horses’ religion is deeply concerned with proper treatment of the deceased, and Graham’s decision to desecrate the corpses of his enemies goes against virtually everything they believe. The old man who won’t tell you his name asks you to take the heads off of the pikes and bury them deep in Zion, and to bring Follows-Chalk with you so you’ll have someone to tell you how to treat them properly. Over the course of the quest, Follows-Chalk will share some of his own beliefs about death, and you’ll have the opportunity to share your own. If you complete this quest without sabotaging it, Follows-Chalk will be willing to betray Graham to the White Legs before the final battle.

The Sorrows: This is basically just Ghost of She, but after defeating the Yao Guai you’ll discover a holotape revealing that the girl wasn’t killed by the bear, but by one of the murderers from Vault 22. Waking Cloud will speculate that maybe the Yao Guai wasn’t the ghost of the little girl at all but some other force that wanted to push you to discover the truth. If you wait until the end to tell Waking Cloud about the death of her husband, you’ll have to pass a Speech check of 75 to convince her you’re telling her the truth; completing this quest drops the check to 50.

The White Legs: Salt-Upon-Wounds will ask you to help him sabotage the Mormons’ preparations for the battle. If you help him with this, it’ll drop the Speech check for you to convince him to leave from 100 to 80. It’s not necessary at all to get the tribal confederacy ending, but a new note will appear in your inventory if you finish it and meet a couple other requirements (asking him certain questions, not attempting that one Speech check about religion, etc).

Endings

I’m trying to incorporate as much variety as possible, but there are three main ending paths: siding with the White Legs, siding with the other two tribes, and peace. The basic idea is that the outcome is predicated less on your direct intervention, and more on how other people act based on the facts they have available to them. Most of your influence is through your choices to hide or reveal key pieces of information, and the skill checks you need to access certain endings are less you convincing a character to do something and more convincing a character to believe you’re telling them the truth. There’s one major exception to this, it requires maxed Speech, and the ending it gives you is markedly bittersweet because you’re trying to get a guy to act against his own best interest. I’m writing all the endings up here, and will probably edit them as things change. The post where I explain them in more depth can be found here.

And that’s the story so far! Thank you for reading, and again: if there’s anything here you think is poorly-conceived, let me know. Thank you to @baelpenrose, who’s a grad student in the history of the American West, for helping me workshop a lot of this stuff. If you’ve got expert knowledge on any of the concepts I touch on or are personally a member of any of the groups I’m describing, please feel free to hmu: anon is on, and you’re always welcome to DM me. I’m just doing this for fun, but I still want it to be as not-shit as possible.

[outrebanx]

Dragonfly - Chapter 4

JJ Maybank x female!reader series

Summary: Y/N is invited to her first kegger, where she has lots of fun but there’s a fight which turns her night upside down (a shit summary i’m sorry)

Word Count: 3.5k 

Warnings: swearing, fighting - hasn’t been proofread so most likely bad grammar

A/N: I enjoyed writing a lot of this chapter, and I canny look forward to the next one which is going to be very angsty hopefully

Chapters 1 - 2 - 3 -

You had fallen into a routine these last few days, getting up, going to work and then coming back home to have a meal with your dad before going surfing at night. Not that you minded too much, routines had always helped you cope with stuff, originally when your mum died all you wanted to do was carry on your days as if nothing had happened but your dad always thought this wasn’t coping - more just ignoring the issue.

This routine wasn’t like that, it was just the routine of a new life, which you were beginning to enjoy, in the Outer Banks. You had seen Kie most days at work, chatting whenever there were less people to serve in the restaurant, but you hadn’t seen the boys since the boat trip - even though they pretty much told you you were now part of their group, you couldn’t help but think they were avoiding you, especially as Kiara had said they normally come into the Wreck when they’re hungry, which they are most of the time. Any time these thoughts came into your head you quickly pushed them out, you had enjoyed being with them and you really didn’t want to try and push them away or make assumptions before there was any evidence - something you had done lots growing up, always thinking you were hated when you weren’t, and ruining friendships because of this. A new life meant you had to stop making old mistakes, especially ones like those.

The Wreck was emptier today than you’d seen it since you began working there, only a few groups of people had come into the restaurant for food, most people probably staying in the sun for as long as possible as the weather was amazing today, not a cloud in sight, just the hot sun. Not that you could really enjoy it when you were working, but your shift finished soon so you’d be able to do something then.

You were cleaning up a table of a couple that had just left when you heard your name being called out from the door.

“Y/N!” John B shouted, Kie behind him trying to tell him to shut up.

You waved at him, and began to head to a table, Kie, JJ and Pope all following closely behind him.

“Hey, how are you guys?” You asked

There was a chorus of “great’s” before Kie got up, saying she was going to search for some food as the guys were hungry

“What are you doing tonight?” JJ asked once Kie had left.

“Surfing probably, why?”

“We’re having a kegger at the beach later and we want you to come.” John B answered

“Yeah it’ll be your first time drinking properly with us and probably the first time since you moved here as well - so you basically can’t refuse.” JJ smiled at you, waiting for your answer.

“Okay, yeah I’d love to.”

All three boys whooped at this, and as Kiara came back to the table, she asked, “I’m guessing you’re coming then?”

“I am indeed, been a while since I’ve gone to a party though, I feel like I could be out of practice.” You laughed

“Bullshit, we all saw you drink on the boat the other day and I’m sure you’ll somehow show us all up again tonight.” Pope responded, the others just nodding their agreement.

“Good point - when abouts should I get there?”

“We usually set up around 9 so probably then, this means there’s some time before everyone else gets there just us.” John B said, oblivious to Kie muttering under her breath, “Yeah and then you guys will get into a fight like always.”

This comment set you on edge a little, you had never been a huge fan of violence, if need be you could protect yourself but it was seeing people you care about being hurt which upset you, and the way Kie made it sound, that could be a possibility.

“Okay I have to finish clearing up then I need to go home, so I’ll see you guys later.” You said, smiling at them as they all said bye.

—————

You looked around your room, there were clothes everywhere from you changing your mind on outfits to wear tonight about 100 times, you didn’t know whether to keep it casual like during the day or put a little more effort in, both options needing you to decide on how much cleavage you wanted to show. Getting ready was always so stressful.

You collapsed onto your bed in defeat, still not sure what to wear before you heard your phone ringing, looking at it you saw Kiara’s name on the screen so you quickly answered it.

“Hey”

“Hi,” her voice came from the phone, “you alright?”

“Great other than the fact I don’t know what to wear, please help me.”

She laughed, “I felt like this could be something you’d have an issue with - my advice is shorts and a nice top, it’s my go to every time and it never fails.”

“Okay that’s narrowed it down slightly and I think I have an idea now, so you’re officially a life saver Kie.”

“I know,” she joked, “shit - my mum’s calling me so I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Okay bye” you said, ending the call as you stood up, ready to go through your clothes again, now knowing what you were looking for.

It didn’t take you long to find the outfit you were gonna wear, an off the shoulder black crop top and some black denim shorts - the whole outfit making your figure look great, filling you with confidence. You quickly put on some mascara and eyeshadow, then made your way downstairs to say goodbye to your dad for the night, only to find out he’d already crashed out on the couch.

Instead of waking him up, you just decided to leave him a note saying you’d be back later, grabbing some vodka from the kitchen you started making your way down to the beach to meet up with your friends.

They were sat round a fire when you arrived, JJ smoking a joint and the other three all focused on the conversation they were having. They didn’t notice you until you sat down next to JJ, quickly stealing the blunt from his hand and taking a hit before giving it back to him, a shocked and offended look on his face as he muttered, “the audacity.”

“You love me really,” you say nudging him, a smirk on your face that you knew annoyed him, he just shoved you off the log you were both sitting on, “you’re wrong there Y/N.”

You pouted at him as you climbed back onto the log, turning to look at the others, who had witnessed that interaction, Kie now having a smug look on her face, knowing she’d been right about there kind of being something between you guys.

You decided to ignore this, and instead began talking to Pope about what he wanted to do at college. Forensic pathology was the thing he was passionate about, you wish you had the same idea of where you wanted your life to go, but you still didn’t know, and at this point you just wanted to enjoy life for a little while so that’s what you were going to do.

The easy conversations lasted a little bit longer, then as more people began arriving at the beach, John B and Pope went off to man the keg and JJ had gone off to, in his words, “find his fun for the night.” You and Kiara had both made a disgusted noise at this, before deciding you’d rather drink some vodka and then go and dance together. So that what you did.

You didn’t know how much you’d had to drink by the time Kie had dragged you into where other people were dancing, shouting how she loved the songs that were playing tonight, but you were starting to feel the alcohol going to your head. This, of course, only made you enjoy all this more, being so relaxed and happy with others was not something you felt often, and you were going to love every second of it.

You turned to Kie, “Hey, I’m going to go and get some beer, do you want anything?”

She shook her head, then turned back to the group of touron girls who had joined your dancing as you began heading over to where John B and Pope were.

They spotted you and waved as you made your way closer, already holding a cup out to you, you sped up for the last little distance to reach them, taking the cup and saying your thanks.

“How’s your first kegger going then?” John B asked.

“I’m really loving it, I’ve had lots of drink obviously but the whole atmosphere is great, like there only seem to be good vibes, not sure what Kie meant by there being lots of fights usually if it’s like this.”

“Well I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, but I hate to break it to you, there’s still a good chance of there being a fight, the kooks almost always start something, or at least act like dicks, which then starts the fight.” Pope said, patting you on the shoulder as he ‘broke the news’ to you.

“Oh great,” you sighed, “but at least I can handle myself and if you guys need it, I can always help you.”

John B laughed, “You in a fight would be something I’d pay to see to be honest, but please be careful and try not to get into a fight, I mean you’ve only known us a week, that’d be like the biggest sign that we’re bad influences and we don’t need that.”

You smiled at him, “I’ll try my best.”

“Good, that means there’s only JJ to worry about now.”

“Does he get into a lot of fights then?”

“All. the. time,” Pope said, taking a sip from his cup before continuing, “but in fairness, it’s usually to stick up for once of us which makes it slightly better, even if he’s still a pain in the ass.”

You chuckled, “I’ll keep a look out as well then, stop him before he does something stupid.”

It was silent for a few seconds, you all drinking and lost in thoughts, and just as you were going to return to Kie, John B said, “Hey, Y/N, I’m glad you’re in our group now, you make it better.”

You couldn’t contain your joy when he said this, so with a very wide smile you pulled both him and Pope into a tight hug, saying, “Thank you, it’s because I’m amazing.”

They both were still laughing as you made your way back over to where you last saw Kie, but when you got there, she had since disappeared. You sighed, wondering where she’d gone and when you turned back round, you were blocked by a muscular guy, who when you saw his face, you knew was Rafe from the restaurant the other day.

“Where you going pogue?” He sneered

“What’s it to you?”

“Just wondering, anyway I came over to tell you that you look good, and I could put aside the rivalry for tonight if you wanted to have some fun.”

You scoffed, “only if by fun you mean me hitting you with a golf club, but if not I don’t have much interest.”

He moved forward, grabbing you forearm in a tight grip, “You can’t talk to me like that you little bitch, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“Take your hand off me.” You say, ignoring his threat.

“You heard her man, get off her.” You turned around, seeing JJ now behind you, already looking like he was prepared to fight, he looked at you in question to see if you were alright, you just nodded before looking back to Rafe.

In response, Rafe’s grip just tightened, you winced slightly, knowing this would be leaving a bruise on your arm.

Without thinking, you lifted your other hand up, and punched him straight in the face. In shock he let go of you, stumbling back holding his nose and swearing.

He looked up to you, blood running from his nose, “you’re gonna pay for that you bitch.”

As Rafe moved forward, JJ pushed you behind him, ready to take the brunt of Rafe’s anger. Before you could even try and argue for JJ to not get involved, both him and Rafe were on the ground, JJ currently on top of Rafe and punching him in the face repeatedly.

This commotion attracted the attention of everyone else on the beach, you saw John B, Pope and Kie all running over trying to see what was going on and how they could help.

Just as you shouted for JJ to stop, obvious Rafe had had enough of a beating, Rafe’s other goons appeared out of nowhere, pulling JJ off Rafe and whilst one held him in a headlock, the other kicked him in the stomach, causing JJ to bend over in pain.

“NO! GET OFF OF HIM.” You shouted, Kie had a hold on your arms so you couldn’t move forward and get involved.

Pope and John B had now moved in on the fight, John B getting in front of the one who was kicking JJ, pushing him away, and Pope punched the other one, making him release the hold he had on JJ.

They retreated, hands in the air in defence, knowing they were outnumbered, and they had seen that Rafe was still on the floor, maybe even unconscious, you thought, a little happy at that outcome. All of that happiness vanished when you saw JJ, keeled over in the sand, grabbing his side in pain.

Both you and Kie quickly ran over to him, you knelt in front of him, his head moving to look at you, “Holy shit JJ are you alright?”

“I’ve had worse.” You scrunched your eyebrows, slightly confused how this wasn’t a big deal to him, or how anything could be worse, I mean he was covered in blood and was clearly going to have lots of bruises- but before you could say anything he looked up at you again, “how’s your hand?”

“Throbbing slightly but literally nothing to worry about, especially when you look like this.”

John B and Pope lifted JJ up by his arms, “Let’s get you cleaned up man.”

Kie reached her hand out to you, helping you up so you could follow the boys, who were now trying to convince JJ to let them help.

You couldn’t help but slow down, it was your fault he had been hurt like that, you should’ve kept your anger in check, then maybe Rafe would’ve gone away without any issues. Kie nudged your shoulder, “I know what you’re thinking, and this isn’t your fault - Rafe could’ve done something bad to you so its good you stuck up for yourself and JJ was there to help you out.”

When you didn’t answer, she grabbed your hand and squeezed it, “Trust me, this isn’t your fault.”

You nodded, not saying anything as you removed your hand from hers and tried to catch up with the boys who were now arguing who’s house was closer to clean him up.

“I can take him to mine,” they turned to look at you, a bit shocked at your offer, but understood why you wanted to help him when they saw the guilt on your face.

“Are you sure?” Pope asked

“Yes, I might as well clean him up as it was my fault he got into the fight, and I need to ice my hand anyway, so you guys can stay here for a bit longer if you want.”

“Okay, can you carry him on your own?” John B said, interrupting Kie who was ready to say it wasn’t your fault again.

“I can walk on my own man,” JJ muttered at John B as you went to put your arm around his waist, allowing him to put his over your shoulder, and supporting his weight.

“Okay then, we’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry I ruined the night,” you said, looking down at the floor in shame.

JJ squeezed your shoulder as the other three moved towards you and engulfed both you and JJ into a hug, Kie reassuring you that you hadn’t ruined anything, except maybe Rafe’s nose - this earned a laugh from everyone, you included, and when you stepped back, there was a small smile on your face again.

The walk back to yours was slow going, JJ struggling to stay upright and you having to support more of his weight, there was a silence between you, neither of you really knowing what to say to one another, but you used the time to try and sort out the thoughts rushing through your head.

Once back at yours, you unlocked the door, checking the sofa, which your dad had now left, obviously to go and sleep in his bed where it’s more comfy, and leading JJ to the bathroom nearest your room.

You patted the counter, indicating for him to sit on it, which he did whilst letting out a small grunt of pain. Quickly searching through the cabinet, you found some bandages and some saline solution, which you put on the counter before running to the kitchen to get some ice for his hand.

He had zoned out in thought by the time you got back, only coming back to the present when you were standing in front of him, tapping his shoulder.

“Is it alright if I step in between your legs? it's easier to reach the cuts.” You asked

“You can stand between my legs whenever you want Y/N,” he joked, as he opened them for you to step between, you still weren’t sure how he can keep acting like his normal self when he was obviously in a lot of pain.

You stopped thinking and just started cleaning out all of his wounds with the saline solution, feeling awful whenever he winced underneath your touch, but this needed to be done to lessen the pain tomorrow and to make sure no cuts git infected. You had fallen into a concentrated silence, making sure you were hurting him as little as possible, not even noticing how intensely he was looking at you, entranced with how your eyebrows scrunched together in concentration and how you bit your lip, wincing whenever he did.

You were almost done when he spoke up, “thank you for doing this by the way.”

You looked up at him, making eye contact with his intense blue eyes, “I don’t like seeing you hurt, especially when you got into that fight because of me.”

Looking back down at the area on his stomach you were trying to clean, you noticed that there were a lot more bruises and marks than just from tonight, you were going to say something but if it was something he wanted to talk about he’d tell you when he was ready, so you just stepped away from him, washing your hands in the sink.

Only now you were washing your hands did you realise how red the one you had punched Rafe with had become, and that there was now already a bruise from where he grabbed you. JJ had noticed you pause, and looked to where your eyes were focused - he couldn’t stop way his stomach lurched at the idea you were in pain, he was used to it and even though he hadn’t known you for long, he didn’t want you ever to be in pain again.

He grabbed your hands, the water from the tap flowing over both your hands, “That fight wasn’t your fault, it was Rafe’s, and I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

You turned to look at him, a tear escaping you eye, which he quickly wiped away with his thumb, “well if it’s not my fault, then you’re not allowed to be sorry either, deal?”

He let out a small laugh, “Okay that works for me,” he went to open the bathroom door, “anyway I should probably get going, don’t want your dad seeing me.”

You grabbed his arm before he could move any further, “Nope.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you walking on your own when you’re in this state, so you’re going to stay here, you can share my bed with me, obviously without any funny business though.”

His mouth had gaped into an ‘O’ in shock, “Are you sure?”

“100%, and then we can make our way together to see the others tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay then.” You led him to your bedroom, throwing him a pair of your dad’s old joggers for him to get dressed into, turning away from him as you changed into a large shirt and shorts, before getting into bed next to where he had already settled.

You could feel his eyes on you, so you moved onto your side so you were facing him, before smiling at him, “Night JJ.”

He smiled back, “Night Y/N” and you both drifted off into sleep.

Taglist: @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @tangledinsparkles​ @k-k0129​ @jjsbxtch​ @outerbankslove​ @obx-beach​ @emerald-xcd​ @danicarosaline​ @belledutchess​ @teamnick​ @justcallmesams​

[hellstenglow]

Fiveya Meta: they need to talk

Endure me, I am on a fiveya-train and my thoughts don’t shut up.

After watching the most recent behind the scene videos of TUA season 2 we can conclude that they did make senseless choices in the plot because in some cases they had to. For example in the case of the snow storm created by Harlan in the final episode, that was added to the script because suddenly there have been a snow storm on the outside set the days before the scheduled filming and they couldn’t clean the place enough, in time for the recording. The snow was added.

I also think they could have written some of the characters better and given them real development (*cough* Luther, Ben *cough*). I wasn’t even a fan of the whole “Vanya lost her memory” thing, but I’ve read that Steve Blackman (the showrunner) doesn’t want to diverge from the original content too much (which is a bit silly to say since they did make major changes since season 1, but okay). I guess that’s why Vanya’s amnesia was still there, although they treated it differently. In the comics it was Mom-Grace who helped Vanya to find herself again and her own value, in the show it was Sissy who did it. I thought it was kind of a hint to the comics the fact Sissy resembled Show-Grace a bit (blond, kind and a mom). Did I think it was unnecessary to have a love interest for Vanya right after season 1? I did, but I justified the choice by thinking that the show wanted to give Vanya a taste of what real love (not like Leonard’s manipulative and abusive love) is supposed to be. I also thought it was a way to show how Vanya needs to stop clinging to the first person who gives her affection, attention and treats her with kindness. I hope she’d realize that and work on herself and family in season 3, first and foremost.

Even with the evident flaws I enjoyed season 2, especially because I decided to treat it as a passing by (detour/digression) chapter in a longer story. All Hargreeves siblings in the ‘60s tried hard to make a new life and ignored their actual life (Allison, Luther, Klaus) or had a convenient amnesia (Vanya) or focused on something too much to lose track of what matters (Diego). Everyone except Ben (who was not treated once again as a full character despite the apparent level up the PR promoted) and Five (who once again was running around in panic mode to stop an apocalypse). Remember Vanya saying, “New timeline, new me.” And Five replying “That’s NOT how it works.”? I may give the writers more credits than it is due, but I hope those two lines were some kind of meta messages for the more attentive viewers. Those two lines can explain perfectly season 2 to be honest.

Nobody can know how long a tv show would run, a fact that expose us to uncertainty. It’s always a gamble trusting writers and showrunners to deliver a good story, but all it’s fair game and one has only to accept it. I do not trust any of them, but I cannot help myself and still hope that they will not ruin everything. With all this said, let’s talk about something I think the show has to tackle in next seasons: Five and Vanya are two points of a theme that needs to be addressed and solved. They need to interact, talk and close their open theme together.

This is not a cohesive meta and I probably will lose myself in too many details, but I hope the message I am trying to convey will arrive. This is only my reading of the show and theories, so you can disagree. I just hope you’d find something interesting and maybe help someone to have a different perspective on what’s going on and where (I pray) the show will go. Here the points I will talk about, if you are in for a very verbose essay, please click on the “keep reading” button. Meanwhile I’ll wear my tinfoil crown and sip some margarita.

Five and Vanya are a theme

It was mean to be Ben

Why the Fiveya’s tension in S2 EP 7’s iconic scene is a symptom of something

I dare to hope in fiveya (at least until proven wrong)  

1. We have a theme: Five wants to stop the apocalypse and Vanya is the apocalypse

It’s a twisted joke of the universe that the very thing Five is obsessed about in season 1 (the apocalypse) was caused by the person he trusted the most (“I’ve decided you’re the only one I can trust” - Five in S1EP1). The red thread that linked Five and Vanya can’t be more evident, that’s one of the reasons why I started shipping them. The family’s dynamic, the siblings’ relationships and bonds are equally important, they add layers and motivations to the story, but if we strip everything else and look at the core, we all know Five and Vanya are at the centre of it.

It’s not a simple coincidence that Five said “I’m the four horsemen”. At first, it’s just a funny line, because Five is drunk and he described himself as those fearsome figures (because he is the best assassin of the whole world and time. Death incarnated in his humble opinion). You don’t take him seriously when he said that line, you don’t pay attention to it.  

However, later it gains a certain degree of truth. Subtly the show tells you that indeed Five is linked deeply to the “apocalypse” (Vanya), as much as the four horsemen (they are the prelude and the bringers of the end) are linked to the apocalypse (in the biblical sense). He lived it. He was trapped there for 45 years. He is obsessed with it. The Apocalypse is his business.

Timid little Vanya is the first person he looked for in the middle of the doomsday’s ruins and arguably his closest friend. On the first day of his return Five only have meaningful talks with Vanya. Five sought her to confide the horror of his memories and share the burden of the truth. He trusted her above everyone else. Then the universe made a laughingstock of him when it was revealed that Vanya caused the Apocalypse. Five didn’t know he was running towards her, despite wanting to go back to his family (her) all his life. 

In the first two episodes of season 1 they made clear that Vanya and Five had an intimate bond in their childhood and still cared for each other after so many years, then the show proceeded to separate them until the finale. They tried so hard to keep them far away from each other during season 1 and we all know everything would have been different if they had time to properly talk, process their situation and find a solution together. Of course, the show didn’t give them that chance, otherwise the show would have ended in episode 3 and goodbye drama!

They did not confront each other in the end of season 1, they let Allison take that role because the show built up their connection as sisters and I didn’t dislike the choice. Did it work thematically? No, Allison has no connection with the apocalypse. That’s Five’s business. He didn’t confront Vanya, he let others take the lead in the most crucial moment and with no surprise the apocalypse still happened.

The other apocalypse in season 2 was still connected to Vanya and again Five ignored the cosmic signals and focused on dead ends. Despite knowing perfectly that the butterfly effect can come from any source, he didn’t even think about Vanya’s being the cause of the apocalypse again. Five should have listened Klaus when he suggested that Vanya might have been the cause. Funny how Klaus told him in S1 that he has an addiction and Five aggressively denied it. Funny how saving his family and stopping the apocalypse are always his top priorities, but Five still deny himself (for a reason or another) the time to confront Vanya (the apocalypse).

We have a theme waiting to be resolved: Five wants to stop the apocalypse and Vanya is the cause of the apocalypse. If Five does not confront Vanya the theme will never have a closure. It’s still open right now. It is still there, waiting to be picked up again. There is no resolution.

2. Vanya and Ben’s goodbye

The scene between Vanya and Ben was one of my favourites from season 2 and after pondering for a while I concluded that it couldn’t have been anyone else but Ben the one who helped Vanya in that moment. My theory is that the show will walk backwards the breaking points of Vanya’s life: Ben’s death, Five’s leaving and Reginald’s abuse.

Vanya is not fixed. How could she when she was barely Vanya in this season? “New timeline, new me” she said, but that was just a convenient escapism mechanism. Years and years of mentally and emotionally abuse don’t disappear in one week. The Hargreeves have still a lot to process and resolve, individually and as family. That’s why I hope the show will progress the story in the right direction and actually work on them in season 3. Especially Vanya, who needs to confront her trauma. That’s why the scene with Ben in episode 9 was necessary.

From Vanya’s book:

[…] Our everyday existence was full of evidence that Dad had [...]-pped into treating us like experiments. Not as children, but like animals. And what happened to Ben was the last straw that finally shattered the illusion for the others …

Ben died long time ago and his death was the last straw that shattered the illusion (for the others) that their father cared about them (even in his own messed up way). Everything changed from that moment and each sibling drifted away from one another after that. Ben’s death was the moment Vanya and the rest of her siblings stopped being a family. The definitive step of Vanya’s alienation from her siblings.

There was no place in the group for her. With Five’s absence and Ben gone (he is a caring brother, with Klaus is like that and I can imagine him being kind to Vanya in their childhood too. Although, Ben is not Five and we have seen him being harsh to her in the flashbacks in S1EP10), Vanya was truly lost.

The tearful and important moment between Ben and Vanya was a reverse moment in my opinion. Vanya needed that from Ben, his death heavily influenced the course of her life (everyone’s life) and it was only fitting that Ben should have been the one helping her to start again. It’s symbolic in a sense, but also very factual.

“Sorry that I left without saying goodbye” – Five, S1 EP2

“At least this time I can say goodbye.” – Ben, S2 EP9

I’m using my fiveya-goggles, but we all thought that what Five said in S1EP2 (when Vanya tried to find him at Hargreeves’ mansion) wasn’t just about him leaving her apartment. It’s a very specific line that works on double levels: text and subtext. The subtext of course refers to the day he run out the house and time jumped. I highlighted these two lines from Five and Ben because I think they share the same theme: leaving her without saying goodbye.

Vanya wasn’t on mission with the team when Ben died, and I doubt she even saw his body (or whatever remains were left) when the Umbrella Academy returned. She didn’t even see his manifestation during the Icarus’ fight, too focused in her own power. The scene between them in Vanya’s mind gave both the opportunity to make amend of untold words and missed moments.

Ben is dead, he is the one he cannot return. His departure is permanent, there is nothing they can do about that. However, they can have a closure. Ben needed to be the one first patching to mend Vanya’s relationship with her family, to remind her that she does belong. This sort of second death (finally move on into the Light) has more meaning than the first one, this time Ben completed the mission. He saved someone he loved (he couldn’t stop Klaus from destroying his life with drugs and alcohol) and could trust his siblings to take care of the rest.

I still think Ben didn’t need to die-die, but in a sense it was time for him to move on into the light. He was afraid to go on, but if he could move on so his siblings. It is time for Vanya to move on her own trauma.

(Yeah, I know. I still have problem with the scene because they erased canon in a way and Ben could do a lot more as character. They erased the fact drugs stop their powers like in Klaus’ addiction and Vanya’s pills, so how Vanya was able to use them under LSD? I tried to explain that to myself by the fact “they needed to bs that canon fact in season 1 and ignored it”.

We can also argue that Ben could have prevented the apocalypse in 2019 by doing the same thing, but in their defence S1-Ben didn’t know he could possess a body. Yeah, how did he do that without Klaus’ power help? No idea, that doesn’t make sense to me either. Ahah. I just swam with the flow at that point and accepted it as it is. Call it the power of superpowered siblings’ love. I’ve seen worse plot holes in my life. I can live with this).

3. Pass me the knife, there is some tension here!

From Vanya’s book:

Though prone to arrogance and outbursts, even more than the average preteen, Five was my sole confidante in the years before he disappeared. It almost seemed fitting […] the siblings to leave us, it would be him who [I fully?] […] who fully trusted me.

I said that Vanya’s walking backwards her life’s breaking points. So, after Ben’s death, she needs to address Five’s leaving. Five was her only confidante in the years before he disappeared, as she wrote in her book. Five was very important to young Vanya (and old Vanya needs to remember that) and I bet when he left, that was a scar never healed.

Vanya missed him and hoped for his return, for a while she kept the lights on in the house every night and prepared for him his favourite sandwich. When Five did come back Vanya couldn’t process that fact properly in season 1, all she could think of was that she didn’t want to lose him again. Five on the other hand decided that he would save everyone on his own and for that choice he made a bunch of tragic rookie mistakes.

Miscommunication is their kryptonite and right now Vanya and Five aren’t able to fully communicate at the same level. Reggie did such a good work at parenting that they’re so unfit to deal with their emotions and relationships, that will always be the root of their mistakes.

Same story in season 2, meanwhile Vanya is on the verge to provoke another apocalypse (although indirectly), as usual Five was too obsessed with his own plans and was not even aware of the situation. He knows nobody is insignificant when it’s about altering the timeline, but he always ends to focus on the wrong lead. The show again did incredible summersaults to avoid the two to interact properly and when they interacted things still didn’t work for a reason or another. She didn’t remember her past, he was not entirely sincere with her. She wanted to start anew (having a family with Sissy, easy-peasy), he is trapped again in a run against time to save his family. They are still not at the same page and for the show that is convenient. They still can play with their open theme (my point number 1 in this meta).

I don’t blame Five in S1 for thinking that if the worse happens, they would need to kill her. I think he was in a very delicate state of mind in that moment, he didn’t have time to process the fact Vanya (his favourite sibling and we all know she is his favourite) caused the end of the world. It was disappointing and cynical, but time was ticking fast, and he had been in his “maniacal-panic” mode for almost eight days. I also think he wouldn’t really kill her; he was the one who convinced the others that they needed to take her with them in the time jump. They need to “fix her” (aka help her to never feel alone in the universe and prove her we do love her) or they’re going to make the same mistakes again and again.

Just to be clear I think if Five wasn’t one day from the end of the world and in a rush to stop Vanya, he would had had the same reaction as Old Man Five in S2. His 14-days younger version take it very well “Fair enough” he said and then proceeded to tell Luther how to save Vanya, no mention about killing her whatsoever. Old Man Five had time (10 days more than our current Five) and a direct clue on how to stop the apocalypse (thanks Luther). Nobody was going to kill Vanya.

“Vanya will always be the cause of the apocalypse, unless we fix her.” - Five S1EP10 

“Vanya is the bomb. She will always be the bomb.” - Diego S2EP8

Vanya is the bomb and she will always be the bomb unless she heals. A fact that can be added to my number 1 point in this meta, there is an open theme and they need to tackle it. Five and Vanya need to confront each other and resolve it.

This takes me to S2 EP7: the iconic stare-power stand between Five and Vanya. THE TENSION was real, and you could cut it with a butter knife. The first time I screamed at my screen, I felt like Gordon Ramsay in one of those episodes of “Kitchen Nightmare US” when someone finally serves him good food.

Of course, the immediate reading of the scene is that Five needed Vanya to come along and Vanya didn’t want to go because at that point these Hargreeves are still strangers to her (amnesia is so convenient), Sissy and Harlan are the ones she knows and loves in that right moment.

They were still able to cut each other with sharp words and hostile glares though. Five let her have what she wanted, not because he feared her, but because as usual he cares more about her feelings than what he would ever admit. It’s the second time in S2 he let her go, his soft spot and favouritism for Vanya was showing once again! *fakes surprise*

I think the tension shown in this scene is a symptom that Vanya and Five are on the verge of something they will (they have to) confront soon or later. This is the subtext reading I came out with.

Even if you don’t look at it with shipper goggle, you feel there is something going on. They let the viewers feel there is a sensitive something whenever these two have an alone scene together. All their alone scenes have a specific grade of intimacy, they made it clear since the scene in front of Five’s portrait. They care for each other, they love each other (sibling love, platonic love, we-could-have-been-something love etc…) and it’s there. However, Five left and Vanya never truly recovered from that. They didn’t process that fact and I truly believe they can’t move on until they heal that scar.

Basically, S2 EP7 Fiveya’s scene = We have to talk, but this is not the moment because the show is only on its second season! THIS TENSION IS HERE FOR A REASON.

4. Hope is the last thing to die

I shouldn’t trust a show, I’ve been disappointed so many times in the past years and showrunners of popular shows tend to be unoriginal and cowards. However, I am an optimist at heart and until season 3 I dare to hope anyway. If proven wrong, there are always fanfictions who can do better job than canon.

If all was lost they could have eliminated Alluther too from the universe because of certain fans screaming “harcest is incest you weirdos”, but Allison and Luther’s situation still exist and still work on the parameter “will they or not”? I imagine for their shippers it was annoying to have such a regression in season 2, but they didn’t destroy it and they still gave them scenes.

Fiveya had even a more subtle situation than Alluther but they’ve been granted the same level of intimate interaction whenever they have an alone scene together. Until Five (the character) will gain an older body (which he can) the whole thing is suspended. However, I think they wouldn’t have been open about the possibility of Five changing back to an older body and spoke about in season 1 if they didn’t have an idea for that.

I brushed off the line Five said to Old Man Five about being forever trapped in his 13-years-old body. It’s canon that there is a way to gain an adult body for Five, the Commission has the technology and even if it’s not the Commission they can mambo-jambo the thing in a way or another. That would never work. The actor is a growing up teenager and from season 1 to season 2 he has already changed. I imagined he will change even more before season 3 will ever start recording (maybe very late due the COVID-19 situation).

Aidan is a fan favourite and I am one of those who can’t see anyone else playing Five, with this said there are still ways for the show to give us fiveya. Young fiveya flashbacks will be always an option to explore the idea of “they had a crush on each other when they were young” and make other viewers understand that it wasn’t all “sibling” love between them. Endgame in a distant season can always have an epilogue with an adult Five (another actor I mean) having a very non-platonic (let adult Fivey kiss please) moment with Vanya, meanwhile building up the longest slow-burn (kinda, deep down I believe those feelings for each other are there) of the century.

Maybe I am wrong, maybe my tinfoil crow is too tight, and my brain doesn’t breathe. Maybe the show will succumb to easy paths and angry bullies. I don’t know, but until proven wrong I dare to hope.

PS: This is a monster of a meta and it probably doesn’t make sense? I hope someone will get what I’ve tried to say. I hope you survive, brave readers. Here a glass of margarita for you. I’d love to hear what you think

[babyspacebatclone]

Again, no Beta, barely proofread, gotta go to sleep! Stupid work! I want to start Chapter 3 so I can finally get working on dialogue! lol Anyway....

Beast and the Princess - An Entrapdak AU

Chapter 2

Kadroh had lost all track of time. It was still easy enough to count clicks, of course, but without a Horde data pad to perform the necessary calculations it was too difficult to convert the planet’s light cycles to Imperial reasoning. He had been within the castle walls for five darkening periods, but in his current state he had no way of understanding exactly what that actually meant.

The Beast had offered what appeared to be a modified native data pad, but he found it too confusing to even contemplate. When provided with analog marking materials he attempted what he could remember, but gave up after it only produced tears.

Kadroh was not proud of himself in this time, but at least could take solace in the fact that none of his Brothers would ever know of his shame.

The Beast, incomprehensibly, had been nothing but gracious to him. It had taken the time to request what native foods he found palatable and had by some magic procured them.

By Prime’s light, the situation was so terrifying that he had come to believe in the native magic. No logical process could properly explain this castle, nor its Beast, otherwise.

The bizzare creature had, in general, a sensible form - two lower limbs, two manipulator limbs, a standard exemplified by Prime and the Brothers and seen replicated often throughout known space. But Kadroh hesitated to use the terms “legs” and “arms,” for the creature rarely used them as such; instead, most interaction with the world appeared to be through the Beast’s vast amount of purple - again, “hair” seemed too wrong a word to apply. Whatever it was that flowed dozens of paces in length from the Beast’s head, fine strands that seemed stronger than titanium yet infinitely flexible, capable of far too much independent movement for Kadroh to comprehend. Its face appeared featureless, no mouth despite the creature’s ability to verbally communicate, and while in other circumstances he might have found familiarity with the glowing eyes in context their unblinking nature was unnerving. Compounded with the lack of ears, it was utterly impossible to imagine what the Beast was thinking at any moment.

Its actions were no less reassuring. One hectoclick, it was pleasant, proclaiming the Brother a guest within the castle and free to roam as he pleased. All he had to do was make a request of the primitive mechanical servants throughout the halls, and they would serve him to the best of their limited ability.

But the Beast also clearly stated a refusal to allow Kadroh to leave. It seemed quite unconcerned with the very literal traps that spanned every hall he had thus discovered, merely reminding him that if he had trouble the servants would aid him.

Kadroh had spent as much time as he could attempting to find a logic to the castle, a means of exit. This became harder as time passed, as no logic could be found. The same door, from a room he had not left, would open at different times to different hallways. While a few rooms possessed windows to the outside, all of them were out of reach to the Brother and too small to be used for escape even if accessible. All they could do was mock him with the passage of time and light from the outside world, while he remained trapped within a labyrinth that changed every time he turned around.

The servants brought him plenty of clear water, which was good; he would have been in danger of dehydration, from the amount of crying he had come to do.

The Beast had offered him clean clothes at one point, which he had initially refused; the white Horde uniform with the familiar brand was the only comforting thing he had within this building of horrors.

But when he woke from an exhausting sleep after this request, a clean facsimile of his uniform lay beside him. The materials were strange, neither Horde nor what he had encountered from the natives, but of a surprisingly close texture to his own, and visually it was perfectly identical.

The next time he awoke, having changed into the offered clothes, he found his original uniform provided refreshed and folded neatly.

Kadroh briefly suspected the Beast was performing so illogically on purpose, alternating useful and obstinate, but even that did not appear consistent with its actions. It seemed honest in its offers of kindness, and strangely pleased every time he appeared to accept them. The Beast just seemed - unable to comprehend why Kadroh would wish to leave, or why the castle itself pained him. It also seemed to spend most of its time enthralled in its own projects, which it readily - if confusingly - explained to him at length if he happened upon the Beast while working upon one.

In truth, he was becoming strangely fond of the Beast, in a way. Its fixations and enthusiasm towards its projects reminded him painfully of his brother and Hordak’s never ending experiments.

This did not change his frantic desire for freedom, however. Nor made his slowly growing resignation to remaining trapped painful and horrifying.

Kadroh had begun to contemplate if he would go insane first, or simply die, when the halls of the castle boomed with a familiar voice in a familiar cadence.

“I wish to speak to the master of this building, and the captor of my brother.”

Author’s Notes

More timekeeping! One click is one millionth of a Revolution; this brings it to about half a second. A hectoclick is 100 clicks, a little under a minute. Kiloclick is also commonly used in the Horde, about 10 minutes. There is no hour equivalent; you just measure kiloclicks until you get to a Revolution.

None of this matters in the slightest, it just didn’t make sense for Kadroh to be doing all his time keeping with a solar-based cycle.

And if anyone’s noticed the use of pronouns, that will be addressed in the future! I had a bit too much fun creating headcanon for this silly little AU, if you haven’t already noticed! :P

[yurimother]

LGBTQ Manga Review – ‘Eve and Eve’

Reviewing an anthology presents unique challenges. Each story must be considered as a standalone piece able to present a cohesive and engaging narrative (or not) by itself. However, being bound together intrinsically adds something greater to the works. They are no longer independent pieces but contribute to the book as a whole. I will admit this is the first time I have had the pleasure of reviewing an anthology but given the current trend of Yuri anthologies in Japan, and with the many English adaptations looming on the horizon, I figured I best get used to the prospect.

Eve and Eve is a mature Yuri manga anthology featuring six stories by Nagashiro Rouge. When I say mature, I mean it! the stories contain explicit (although not pornographic) depictions of intercourse. Two of the stories were originally published in Yuri Ninshin, a hentai publication, all explicit genitalia or nipples were edited out in re-printings in Japan. These edited editions are the ones which appear in Seven Seas’ Eve and Eve. Given these alterations, Eve and Eve is actually one of the few Yuri works in English I classify as an adult piece containing sex that is not pornographic, a classification I rarely make outside of visual novels, such as Kindred Spirits on the Roof. However, as this review does discuss the explicate content in the manga I am warning that you should read the following at your own discretion.

Now that the long-winded introduction is finished, let’s go over the universal aspects of Eve and Eve before I break down each of the six stories. Nagashiro’s artwork is clean and detailed. With each panel being full of detail except in a few circumstances to accentuate a character, object, speech bubble or interaction when white space is used. Their character designs are extremely impressive, with almost every character having a distinctly different hairstyle, face, and body type that mesh properly and make each individual feel distinctive. This is especially important for an anthology, as the short stories leave little room for individual personalities, so a lot of what has to be memorable is the design.

On the note of the characters, none of them are extremely complicated, often only having one distinctive personality trait. However, this lack of sophistication is to be expected and helps cut down on needless fluff. None of the personalities or dynamics between the characters feel overused or played out. Instead, they compliment the story well and allow for engaging short narratives. An example of this is Eko, in the second story, whose timid nature is the main conflict of her romance.

The content of the stories varies but there are shared elements. Half of them are science fiction stories with elements of aliens, robots, artificial intelligence, and the apocalypse. Additionally, unlike many of Yuri titles, those presented here are about adults (save one exception) who have consensual sexual encounters. Many of the pairings in Eve and Eve are women in relationship with each other that have a life together, which is tragically rare in this genre.

As previously mentioned, Eve and Eve has more than a few moments of intercourse. While these are certainly lewd, I did not find them disgusting as I do with so many instances of sex in Yuri. Part of this may be due to the omission of genitalia but mostly it is in the way sex functions in each story and how it is depicted. I will examine the former aspect later, but in the depiction, the intercourse itself, it is universally well done. While it is explicit and salacious, the sex does not contain gross moments of overly exaggerated orgasms or uncomfortably manipulated breasts. It feels mature and thoughtful, at least most of the time, something I greatly appreciate.

Finally, I need to talk about the “Summary of Stories” page that appears at the end of the book. This glorious spread gives me precious information about each of the six stories including when and where they were originally published. Alongside each story is a blurb from Nagashiro Rouge describing each story and their thoughts on it. I subscribe to Barthes’ “Death of the Author,” so I usually care little about the creator or their intent when evaluating a text. This belief is especially useful as an English teacher; that’s right, we know Fitzgerald may not have intended to put that much symbolism into The Great Gatsby, we just do not care! But I am also a hypocrite so I will on occasion use Nagashiro’s summaries to contribute to my thoughts and arguments about each story.

The first story, I Want to Leave Behind a Miraculous Love is about Sayu and Nika, the last two survivors of the apocalypse. They do not speak the same language, with Nika’s limited dialogue being written in Russian (only a few lines, even if you do read Russian it adds almost nothing to the story). Despite this difficulty, the two of them grow incredibly close and eventually become lovers. Through narration and effective visual storytelling, this story actually does an effective job of communicating how close the two are and how they care for each other despite the women's’ inability to talk to each other. This is seen in scenes where the two wander the dilapidated remains of a city and during their sex.

The intercourse here is the best that Eve and Eve has to offer, both in is salaciousness and the deeper meaning. The sex is a physical expression of their love and the way in which the two can communicate their feelings and devotion to each other. It is more than two characters smashing into each other to achieve climax, but an act that physically confirms their love. I applaud this depiction.

I Want to Leave Behind a Miraculous Love, is one of the stories originally published in Yuri Ninshin. To remind you, this is a hentai work and thus contains a lot of sex (although again, this is the edited version). It is also worth mentioning that “Ninshin” translates to pregnancy, Yuri Ninshin is a fetish work about pregnancies occurring between women. I will admit, I LOVE stories about women having and raising kids together, typically not biological kids, although I have done some quack reporting on the real world possibility (something I am in no way qualified to talk about. However, pregnancy fetishizing is absolutely not my things. It is easy for most people to dismiss this story because of its inclusion. I, however, will take a different approach.

Sayu repeatedly mentions her worries about one of them ending up alone if the other were to die. The pregnancy produced by magical science shenanigans produces children to keep them company in the isolation as survivors of the apocalypse. They are physical results of their love which shall endure beyond either of their lifespans, demonstrating the strength of Nika and Sayu’s devotion to each other. Additionally, they are a symbol of life returning after the tragedy of the apocalypse. The final panel of the story depicts life in both their children and returned plant-life surrounding the two female figures, mothers to the new human race, Eve and Eve.

The second story, The Case of Eko and Lisa, is about an artist, Eko, and Lisa, a sexbot that she uses to pose for drawings (but not for her intended purpose). Lisa malfunctions and begins to develop feelings for Eko, who spurs her advances.

The two characters struggle to confess their actual feelings for each other because of Eko’s anxieties about their possible relationship. During the climax of the story she reveals the source of her trepidation in a very human moment, she is scared that if they were to have sex she would be disappointing or that things between the two might change. It is a fear that many people in the real world have and Nagashiro is able to use it so well in this story, complete with some of the best art in this book. Equally as incredible is the response of Lisa, “just be honest with yourself and love me however you like.”

The relationship between Eko and Lisa is easily the best in the volume. Each of them struggles because of Eko’s anxiety around their relationship and trying to figure out how to best express their feelings. The resolution to their conflict is also one of the sweetest and healthiest things I have seen out of a Yuri relationship.

The third story is Top or Bottom? The Showdown! As the title suggests this story is comedic. It begins with a group of female students arguing about which of them is a “top” or a “bottom.” All the girls agree that protagonist Anzu is a bottom because of her small stature, something which she is outraged by. Anzu enters into a contest with the tall but passive Emi to decide who would be the better top. Hilarity and some (non-lewd) service occur.

I am on record as not easily crying but I am an easy laugh and Top or Bottom had me rolling in whatever the homosexual equivalent of “the aisles” is. The premise is ridiculous, as it should be which leads to some great jokes. The side plot of the girls “shipping” their male classmates together also ends up with one of the best twist punchlines I have read in a long time.

While it is easy to enjoy this story given what is presented in the book, it also invites some deeper analysis. Nagashiro plays with the expectation of the assertive and submissive, bottom and top, roles that often define relationships. The comedy comes from the characters struggles to fit into these defined roles, each possessing one of the traits of a “bottom” Anzu’s small size and Emi’s passive nature. Anzu eventually says, “deciding [roles] like that doesn’t feel right.” It becomes evident that deciding who should be the top or bottom is not something that needs deciding before a relationship begins but something more fluid which, if they are formed, are done so during the relationship.

While I thoroughly enjoyed the first half of the book that amusement ceases with the fourth story, An Infidelity Revisited. Two women, Azusa and Midori, who are former classmates run into each other on the street and cheat on their girlfriends with each other. When Midori suggests that they break up with their partners Azusa declines saying the only reason the sex between them is so good is because they are cheating. The two women begin to leave but stop walking away at the last second.

I really did not like this story for numerous reasons. First, cheating is such a lazy and problematic way to make sex feel scandalous and exciting. Secondly, because the characters never face any repercussions or consequences as part of their infidelity that we see. This could make for an engaging narrative if done properly and in a longer format. As it is, all the reader sees is their cheating, no fallout, no resolution, and no redemption. Some stories are able to present such a small window into the lives of characters without these aspects but An Infidelity Revisited does not have the literary chops to pull off such a narrative.

Nagashiro wrote that “I hope I was able to convey that way in which logic eludes us even as adults, and the incredible impact that our feelings can have on us.” While the mangaka succeeds with that first point, the total lack of logic, they utterly fail to deliver on the impact. The only effect that this story has on me is leaving me mildly exasperated and bitter. As I previously said, there may be an engaging, albeit unhealthy, narrative here but begins so incomplete robs it of the chance to deliver.

Continuing with the theme of stories I did not like is Heir to the Curse. This is a second Yuri pregnancy story and the third to feature explicit sex following I want to Leave Behind a Miraculous Love and An infidelity Revisited. However, while the first story is a tale of love and eternity between two women this one is far more manipulative and disgusting. The beginning and ending are both fine, a girl is cursed because she is born from two mothers and can only reproduce women and she ends up living happily with another woman.

It is the middle that I take issue with. The cursed girl, Ichika, forces herself onto her childhood friend Yui to implant her child. This is so absurd that I almost threw the book across the room, the only reason I did not was that I had an ebook which I was reading on a very expensive laptop. Moreover, this assault feels so out of place with the rest of the anthology which features (mostly) thoughtful and wholesome depiction of same-sex relationship where women have consensual and mutually pleasurable intercourse.

Sure, eventually Yui realizes that she loves Ichika and wants to be with her but this epiphany coming immediately after an assault is a whole other can of worms that I do not want to eat because they are freaking worms. Ichika displays some remorse and it becomes clear that she is doing what she has been raised and abused to know how to do. In the end, Yui “saves” her and brings her away from the village that labels the woman as cursed. I actually like this part, but I wish the action she had taken against her friend was not assault. Even a pained but consensual sexual encounter would have been preferable. Ultimately what I can say is “cool story, still rape”.

Nagashiro wrote that this as “a story about friendship and love.” I call horse dung on this description. If you only read the beginning and ending sure, but when you include blatant assault in the middle of the story that becomes a central element to the story which again, because of the short nature of the story, was not properly addressed.

The anthology ends with Eternity 1 and 2: Eve and Eve. This is the only work by Nagashiro Rouge I had read before this, having browsed the issue of Comic Yuri Hime it was published in, and it is easily my favorite story in the book.

In this tale, two lovers, Eternity 1 and 2, have their brains put into satellites and to act as the watchdogs of humanity. The artwork and symbolism are stunning! By itself, this chapter would easily earn a nine or ten rating from me in that department. One standout moment is in the opening pages, a display of the two women sitting in wedding dresses about to undergo the operation with a wedding officiant standing behind them. This scene replicates the themes of legacy and eternity in love seen in I Want to Leave Behind a Miraculous Love but furthers them even more.

The women, torn from their flesh live together only as minds and spirits. While this story is devoid of sexual intimacy between the two the emotional connection of having their minds work as one is so strong and transient. I will not spoil the stories climax but the actions of the women to display and finalize their love are so intimate and powerful that I was blown away. Nagashiro also does a great job of tying in the other science fiction stories, chapters one and two, to Eternity 1 and 2: Eve and Eve making these three works feel like one continuous world, an excellent shared world anthology.

Eve and Eve has its ups and downs. While many of the stories are spectacular they are bogged down by a few inferior ones. However, I did not outright hate any of the stories and find myself earning for continuations of the inadequate ones so that their potential could be realized. If you are willing to overlook a few questionable chapters Eve and Eve is a wonderful and salacious Yuri anthology with surprising depth and humanity. I definitely recommend that older readers give it a look.

Ratings: Story – 7 Characters – 5 Art – 9 LGBTQ – 9 Lewd – 8 Final – 7

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[blazingopus]

Easy Lover - Golden Wind

This took me longer than I had originally anticipated. But I am very proud of my work. I drew some inspiration from Cowboy Bebop with this one. I hope you enjoy this strange romance I crafted for Giorno. Please enjoy.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6SuSQ2hXZzLbulO8T0FF20?si=02Auyy_fRjqA_uGb3COERg

After being undercover as the target’s ‘girlfriend’ for several months, your character is ordered to finish the job.

We stepped into the hotel’s ballroom, golden light coming down from the glittering chandelier above. The voices echoing off the walls filled my ears. Some of the most powerful and dangerous people in Italy were gathered here tonight. To the more romantically inclined, this would seem like a magical night of dancing and merriment. In reality, it was a chance to meet, network, exchange information, and plan with new and old allies. All this while glaring and scoffing at enemies and rivals from across the room. 

Giorno lifted his arm, an invitation for me to take it. I gingerly wrapped my arm around his. His touch was warm and reassuring in a way. He was wearing his signature black suit with gold trim, something he did to distinguish himself from others. I matched him in opposite, wearing a gold dress with black detailing. We had planned this out very carefully, wanting to signal to others that we operated as one unit. Some were convinced that we were a true power couple, the two of us both dangerous and beautiful. Others hated how close The Don of Passione seemed to rely on a ‘girlfriend.’ What people didn’t know is that this was a clever trick on our part.

You see, we make it appear like we are in a romantic relationship together. We made an arrangement many months back, after I had spent some time in his inner circle. Giorno made it clear that he did not want to pursue any sort of romantic or sexual relationship. His offer was simple. Any event he went to, I would act as his date. I would pretend that I was his comare, interacting with the people and mingling in the crowd. This would serve two functions: The first is a bit of intel gathering on my part. Two sets of eyes and ears is better than one, and the two of us can get a more cohesive picture of what is going on within the different ranks of Passione and other rival mafias. The second is more covert. I am a trained assassin, deadly in my craft with a long resume of confirmed kills. While Giorno has a very powerful stand, he doesn’t like to use it very often. He prefers to keep it mysterious and secretive. I am his first line of defense should things get dangerous, which has been a few too many times already.

We walked into the sea of people. I took a quick look around scanning the faces as they passed. Lucky for us, we weren’t alone this time. A few of Giorno’s men were watching from within the crowd, keeping an eye on everything. I spotted Mista across the room. His lax and chill demeanor hiding his wandering gaze. Bruno was politely chatting with some ladies not far from us. I didn’t see anyone else, but that I didn’t need to see them to know that they were working diligently. Many of the others gathered here had their own bodyguards and spies placed carefully throughout the room. It was expected at this event, and neglecting to do so always ended in disaster.

People moved aside as we moved through the room. Eyes followed us, so many different expressions on their faces. Some were of awe, others of hatred and anger, more were smug or curious. Giorno continued on, his head held high and confidence oozing from his form. I matched his energy, carrying myself tall and straight. I had to play the queen to his king, elegant and powerful. That is what we arranged, after all.

I had spent two years in Giorno’s inner circle. He took me in after he heard of the work I had been doing in the lower ranks of Passione. He needed someone like me close to him. So I was promoted and instantly got to work. After all this time, I came to know his team, and I regarded a few of them as friends. I would give my life for them if the time should come. Just as I would for Giorno.

 It was my job, of course, but that wasn’t the only reason. Giorno trusted me, more than most other people had before. I found it strange, considering he had only met me a little while before. Living by his side over the months let me see into his world and learn much about him. He would sometimes give me small stories of his life, though nothing before he exposed himself as the boss. He didn’t talk about family or relatives. It was almost like the mafia was his family, his team the only people he cared for. He was so passionate about them in his strange introverted way. Over time, I began to respect him. Maybe even care for him. 

That didn’t matter now. I had a job to do, and he had made it very clear he was not wanting any sort of close relationship with me. He was respectful and friendly, but that was the end of it. Nothing more. It didn’t matter what I wanted. I had made my decisions, and I had to deal with the consequences. All I could do was pretend I was content in being next to him, protecting him, masquerading as his lover.

“Scusa,” a voice calls out. Giorno stopped us and looked around. One of his capos elbowed his way through the crowd to meet us. I instantly recognized his face.“Pardon me, but I must speak with you. It is an urgent matter.” He glanced over at me. “And quite private.” His voice was laced with hatred and disdain. He was making it painfully clear he didn’t want me to be here. This wasn’t the first time he had done this to me, but it didn’t make it any more annoying.

Giorno didn’t falter. “I don’t like to repeat myself,” he said sternly. “My business is (Y/N)’s business. Anything you have to say you must be willing to say in front of her.”

The look in his eyes changed ever so slightly. He leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. “Are you sure that is wise, Don Giovanna? You never know who you can trust. Many members of Passione have died by the hands of their lovers. Anyone could be bought into betraying the people they love.”

“Do not question my judgement,” Giorno’s voice was stern, his eyes full of warning. “If you want to keep your position as capo, I suggest you not make such accusations. I will not tolerate you insulting me or my team. Besides, if I cannot trust the people I choose to serve by my side, how am I supposed to trust you?” The capo’s eyes slanted in anger.

I squeezed his arm. It was too early for him to be getting so aggressive. He was acting a little strange, to be honest. “It’s all right, Giorno. Let me get us some drinks,” I glared up at the capo. “Some alcohol will make the night easier, I think.”

“Don’t be too long,” Giorno looked over at me. Despite the lack of emotion on his face, I could feel a smile in his eyes 

I smiled and nodded, letting go of his arm. “I’ll do my best, love,” The word burned in my mouth and in my heart. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I don’t want to clean up any messes when I get back.” I turned and walked away, looking this way and that for a place to get something to drink. Hopefully they had something strong enough to kill the feelings that had suddenly swept over me.

Slowly and carefully, I weaved in and out of people. There had to be a table or something around here somewhere. I saw too many people with drinks in their hands. I moved to where I thought I saw some sort of bartender. As I did, my shoulder bumped into someone. I looked over to apologize, and looking up I recognized the face.

“Fugo!”

He looked at me with a slightly puzzled expression. “Sorry, (Y/N). Do you need something?”

I looked between him and Giorno. I made a slight motion with my head, leaning in close. “See that man talking to Giorno?”

“Him again?” He sneered a bit when he saw who it was.

“Yeah. He’s being his usual asshole self.” I looked back to Fugo. “I am running to grab some drinks. Would mind watching him while I’m busy?”

He gave a small nod. “Leave it to me. If he tries anything, he won’t live very long.” With that, he ended the conversion. He slinked off into the moving mass of people, off to do his duty. Sometimes I forgot how dangerous he could be. His stand was terrifying and hard to control, reflecting his temper. He had gained some mastery of it, and when he focused it properly, he was a sight to behold.

I continued my trek to find the bar. After asking a few people and bumping into a few more, I made my way over to a large bar manned by three different bartenders. Each was busy pouring and shaking drinks for the eager guests. I pushed my way toward the front. One of the men noticed me and gave me a trained smile. 

“What will it be, ma’am?”

“Champagne for two.” I held up two fingers. Quick and direct, the best way to talk to people when they are busy. He gave a quick nod, reaching under the bar for what he needed.

“A fine choice,” a  familiar voice spoke from beside me. “I would expect nothing less from the Lady of the Don of Passione.”

I whipped my head over to see who it was. Henri, my main link to the organization and my supervisor in the field. Of course, Henri wasn’t his real name. I didn’t need to know his real name. His brown hair was slicked back and his suit was neat and pressed. No different from the last time I saw him. He gave me a small bow, his eyes looking into my soul. I didn’t expect to find him so soon. Well, that’s not entirely right. He found me.

It took me a few moments to collect myself. “I wouldn’t get anything else for Don Giovanna. I want him to have the best experience possible here.”

“What a nice sentiment,” his face a mystery to me.“But the night is still young. Much can happen in the span of a few hours.”

The bartender handed me two flutes of champagne. I gave him a nod of thanks. “You speak as if you know something. Something I don’t.” I said this without looking at him.

Henri took a drink from another bartender. A strange darkness swirled behind his eyes.. “I know many things, some of which people kill to learn. But I hate talking over people. Why don’t we head to a place a little more secluded?” Without waiting for my reply, he walked away, moving with ease though the mass of bodies milling about. I followed close behind, knowing I didn’t have much of a choice.

I was led to a set of armchairs that had been left abandoned in a lone corner. No one had wandered over quite yet; people weren't quite drunk enough to need them. Henri sat in one and gestured that I sit in the other. 

“I can’t say your message came as much of a surprise,” He said as we sat down. “Most operatives ask to leave at least once in their career with us.”

I placed Giorno’s flute on the table between us. I adjusted my dress to cover my legs. “Then there must be policies in place for times like this. What did the higher-ups say?” Henri took a sip of his drink. “While you are right about the policies, things will have to be handled a little differently with you. You have proven to be a unique case.”

I felt my brows furrow. “What do you mean? Most of my assignments have been pretty standard operations. Nothing I needed special security clearance for.”

“This last mission has complicated things.” He placed his glass down, becoming very serious. “We don’t retire operatives while they are on mission. Such things draw more attention than they’re worth.” His blue eyes bore into mine. 

“Then end the mission. I must have collected enough information to satisfy the client.” I could feel my pulse quicken under his gaze. Damn, I couldn’t let him get to me. “They have to by this point. I’ve been doing intel for two years.”

He sighed, a little too dramatic to be authentic. “That’s the problem, (Y/N). If you had sent us the information like we asked, this wouldn't be an issue.”

I swallowed. My mouth was so dry. “I don’t understand. I sent you everything I could get my hands on.”

His eyes struck me like ice. “Don’t play dumb, (Y/N). We know what you did. We have our suspicions why you did it. The fact of the matter is that you're lying. You’ve been lying for months.”

I felt my blood run cold. It couldn’t be. There was no way they would have figured it out. There were no spies at my level of access in Passione. No would be able to disprove the information I sent back. Right? I dropped my gaze, fiddling with the glass in my hand. Don’t let him get to you. Don’t let him get to you...

As much as I tried to hide it, Henri must have read my body language. His voice cut like a knife. “At first, you did as you were ordered, feeding us sensitive information about Passione and the upper levels of organization. The client was very happy with what you were sending us. But at some point, you started giving us misinformation. Most of it was original and accurate, of course. Little dates and time changed here and there, inconsistencies that would happen in any sort of job. But you got brave, and that bravery made you sloppy.``

Knots started twisting themselves in my stomach. Panic flooded my veins, but I knew I had to stay calm. I had killed many people, gotten myself out of worse situations than this. I could think my way out of this. I couldn't let my emotions get the better of me.

He continued. “Your attempts at misinformation became more and more blatant as time went on. We were able to catch on to what you were doing when your information started contradicting what other lower-level operatives were sending in. Things that anyone would be aware of and have access to.” He leaned in, earning my gaze again. His eyes felt like glass cutting into my soul. “The long and the short of it is this: You royally fucked up, (Y/N). You caught feelings for your targets, and those feelings caused you to betray us. You were found out, and now you will pay the price.``

I swallowed, gazing into his ice blue eyes. Nothing he had said I could deny. He had cornered me. I had to say something. “What do I have to do?” I commanded myself to sound more confident that I felt.

Henri smirked. “Luckily, we won’t terminate you. We will allow you to leave the organization quietly like you asked, but you must carry out one last mission.”

“That’s offly generous,” I said in a low voice. “What’s the catch?” If I held one piece of advice above all else, it was ‘There’s always a catch.’ I slowly spun the flute in my hand.

He bore his teeth to me, a nasty snarl masquerading as a smile. “It’s very simple, really. It’s nothing that should be a problem for you. Assassinate Giorno Giovanna. I don’t care how you do it, but our client will be very angry and disappointed if you don’t.”

No. Not that. I do anything to get out. Anything but that. I had eliminated people I had worked beside for months, people I had considered friends.  I couldn’t kill Giorno. Not someone I cared so much about. 

The wheels and gears turned in my head. Things I had been wondering about for years suddenly began to make sense. “This is why you made me take this assignment in the first place, isn’t it? You knew that I would be ordered to kill him in the end. That’s why you pulled me out of assassination to do intel.”

Henri took a sip of his drink. “It’s a shame you figured it all out too late.You could have saved us all a lot of trouble.” He stood up, smoothing out his suit and tugging on his jacket. “Be aware that we will be closely monitoring you from this moment on. If you fail in this last mission, both you and will be terminated. If you try to run away, you will be terminated. If you attack us, we will hunt you down and terminate you. Another operative will take over the mission and see it to completion if you do." He gave me a small bow. "Don't let your champagne get warm. Its flavor comes through better when chilled. But of course, you already knew that." Without another word, he stood straight and disappeared into the crowd. If I hadn't known firsthand what he could do, I would have sworn he was some kind of phantom.

I sat in my chair, letting his harsh words sink in. I started cursing Henri, cursing the organization, cursing this mysterious client. But most of all, I was cursing myself. I shouldn't have let things get this out of hand. I shouldn't have taken this mission in the first place. We both knew I was out of my depth doing intel. If I had known this was how it would turn out, I would have never taken this assignment. How could I have done this to them? How could I have done this to the people I call friends? Most of all, how could I have done this to Giorno? If I had grown to care so much for him… No, be honest with yourself. If I loved him as much as I did, I would never have let this happen.

No, stop it. How many times had I been injured in the field, how many times had I seen teammates die? If I had known the troubles ahead, it wouldn't matter. I had a mission to complete. And when things did get bad, it was my skills and ingenuity that pulled me out alive. There was no point in worrying and wallowing in my misery. I had to act. 

But what could I do? 

Henri most likely had operatives scattered throughout the ball room. Eyes and ears everywhere, all ready to attack at a moment’s notice. Not only that, but so did many other people here. Some who would take any chance to end Giorno. The best thing to do was to leave the area to regroup and strategize, and that was a task unto itself. With so many people watching, there would be no way to get out quietly. 

That only left one viable option. We would have to go out with a bang.

I stood up, grabbed the other flute of champagne, and entered back into the commotion of the party. Gazes followed me, wondering why I had been by myself, why I was talking to a strange man, what he had told me. Rumors would probably start about me, vicious ones. But that was the least of my worries. It took me some effort, but I managed to find Giorno still talking to that horrid capo. Fugo was hanging around close by, watching the conversations while trying to not bring much attention to himself. 

“I still do not understand why you are investing so much of Passione’s money into restoration projects. Why should we be concerned about old paintings and gaudi architecture? The museums can handle that, can’t they?”

Giorno was doing his best to stay polite and calm. “You forget that museums need funding in order to stay open and maintain the exhibits. Exhibits that display some of the most valuable pieces of Italian art. If we let those go by the wayside, we will lose part of what makes us Italian.”

“I see I missed out on an interesting philosophy lecture,” I said to get their attention. Giorno’s face relaxed some as he saw me. I handed him his champagne flute. “I’m sorry I took so long, the bar was busier than I expected.”

“It’s not a problem. I appreciate you going through the trouble of getting this for me." He smiled at me, his understated charisma coming through. Focus, (Y/N). You can't let your emotions interfere. You have to pull Giorno out of this alive.

As gracefully as I could, I wrapped around his free arm. "I have something to discuss with you. Something that just can’t wait.” I gave a knowing look up at the capo. “And is quite private.” At my words, his brows furrowed in annoyance and anger. How easily the tables turn.

“Of course,” Giorno gave a polite nod to his capo. “If you would excuse me.” Without waiting on his reply, he led me away, leaving the man to jabber furiously to himself. 

“Finally,” Giorno sighed. “If he wasn’t so good at running his territory, I would have demoted him a long time ago.”

“He's going to be the least of our problems tonight,” I said in a low voice. I didn’t want others around us to hear.

“What do you mean?” He raised an eyebrow, knowing I had learned something.

“Someone’s out to clip you tonight.” It wasn’t the entire truth, but we didn’t have time for that. My eyes met his, both of us knowing the danger in those words. He stopped walking.

“Who, and how many?” He asked simply.

“A hired organization, outside of our jurisdiction. I don’t have exact numbers, but if my suspicions are correct, more than enough to do the job.”

His eyes roamed over my face, carefully thinking over things. “You seem to know more about this organization. Do you have a plan to get out of this?”

I took a deep breath. “More like a loose collection of actions we need to take. We need to find the others. By then, I should have something more to work with.” I looked into his eyes, doing everything to make my next words have impact. “I can’t stress this enough, Giorno. They are very dangerous, and will do everything they can to make sure you don’t leave this room alive.”

A strange look crept into his eyes, like hearing such words strengthened his resolve.“I knew the risks involved when I became Don. Something like this was bound to happen eventually.” He looked around at the faces chattering around us. “I saw Fugo near me when I was talking to that capo. We should find him and get to work.”

Giorno tugged on my arm and led me across the ballroom. The entire time, I was running different scenarios through my head. We would have to get out while avoiding the main exits. We would need to be quick about it too. Time was not on our side. The different stands at our disposal would be necessary if we were going to get out of this. Bruno’s would be essential, and the other’s would be beneficial as well. 

My stand Maneater only manifested as a small pocket dimension that could open within a meter radius of me. It was good for transporting objects like weapons, ammunition, and the occasional dead body. Living things didn’t survive long in there. Getting him out that way would only result in a dead Don.

“There he is,” Giorno whispered to me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I was puzzling out the main parts of my plan as he brought me over to Fugo. He instantly knew something was up when he saw the looks on out faces. 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?" He was doing his best to mask the concern in his voice.

“We’ve got trouble,” Giorno said calmly. “Someone’s got a hit out on us, and we need to get out of here.”

“What?” Fugo’s eyes grew wide, his mouth falling agape. It took him a few moments to collect himself. “How? Who’s trying to kill us?”

“Keep your voice down,” I hissed .I instinctively looked this way and that for signs of danger. “They have eyes and ears everywhere. I think I have a plan, but I am going to need you to relay some information for me. Get in touch with the other members of the team. If this is going to work, we have to be coordinated on this.”

Fugo absorbed my words, thinking over everything as I said it. “Alright, tell me this plan of yours.” I leaned in and quickly explained the plan I had cobbled together.

Patience is not my forte. I had to learn early on when I trained as an assassin. Waiting for your target to walk into range of your sniper scope was aggravating, but necessary. I was always better in close quarter combat because of that. Your results were obvious and right in front of you, and the whole affair was over quicker. Now, watching the clock’s hands slowly move around its detailed face was agony. Everything could end in a second. 

Death was a bitch like that. It came suddenly, without a warning, and fucked everything up. I should know. I was trained as its instrument, its dedicated disciple. How ironic that it would be this hand of oblivion would be Giorno’s saving grace. If everything worked out, that is.

The hands of the clock crept ever on and on around its face. All I could feel was anxiety. All around me, eyes watching, ears listening. Weapons not yet drawn. Blows not yet struck. I knew they were waiting for me to make a move. They must have anticipated that I would defect. If I was lucky, it would all come down to the stroke of twelve.

I clung to Giorno’s arm. I couldn’t let him out of my sight. It was my fault we were in this mess in the first place. If he was concerned or panicking, I definitely couldn’t tell. As we slowly moved into position, he continued to politely converse with other partygoers around us. I did my best to match him. No matter how hard I tried not to, I kept glancing around us, watching the people, looking back at the clock. Every second was agony.

From what I understand, there are some powerful stands that could manipulate time in some capacity. If there was one in that ballroom, it must have been messing around with me. And I hated it. If this was Henri’s doing, I would have no way of knowing. He was the kind of man to keep most of himself a secret.

Slowly, finally, the hands met as they do twice a day, lining up at the intricately cursive number twelve. It was then when all hell broke loose. Just as I planned.

It started with an explosion on the other side of the room. It wasn’t anything big, but it was enough to get people’s attention. Screams erupted among the ladies, heads turned towards the smoking pile of whatever was on fire. A few meters above, Aerosmith circled as it geared up for its next movements. 

I tightened my grip on Giorno’s arm. Both of us tensed up, getting ready to act. Fugo appeared out of the crowd, watching people for signs of danger. It wouldn’t be long now. I reached under the slit of my dress and pulled out the pistol I had strapped to my leg. The black metal reflecting the golden light coming from above.

Aerosmith took a sharp turn, firing into the crowds. People ran this way and that, doing everything they could to avoid the rain of miniature bullets coming from above. Miraculously, all the bullets seemed to miss their targets, hitting the floor, walls, and various furniture around them. Panic took hold in the room, and chaos erupted around us.

“Come on,” I pulled Giorno toward the other side of the room, Fugo close behind. People swarmed around us, going in every direction to escape. My eyes scanned around, knowing full well that we were not the only ones who would take advantage of this. 

We made it to the wall, watching as Aerosmith continued to rain hell onto the unsuspecting partygoers. I watched the people swarming around us, bodies rushing past each other. I watched the faces as they went by. Every so often, I would see the face of Henri in the crowd for an instant, The mischievous darkness in his eyes, a crooked smile on his face. Then it was gone. All that was there was an empty space where he could have stood. 

The glint of a weapon caught my eye, the calculated movement of an assassin aiming his silenced pistol at me. I whipped my head around on instinct to face him. The focused intent of murder was in his eyes. His practiced motions were so familiar to me, because they were exactly like mine.

I raised my gun, knowing how high it would need to be to land a killing blow. Just as he did, I fired a few shots at him, not concerned about the innocents rushing around us. For an instant, the world stopped as the bullets flew by each other. 

My bullets hit their target, nailing him in the head. Blood and brains spayed behind him, and his lifeless body ragdolling to the floor. A pool of blood formed around him. 

Two more appeared out of the crowd, aiming their guns at me. I quickly turned to meet them. I saw Fugo next to me, a menacing purple cloud forming around him. Not waiting to see what he would do, I pulled the trigger on my pistol. Sounds of gunfire bounced off the walls around us and echoed into the large empty space of the ballroom. For a moment, I didn't know what happened.

“(Y/N)!” Giorno’s voice cut through the night. Then I felt it.

Hot searing pain erupted in my arm, forcing me so far back I nearly lost my balance. I clutched the two oozing holes in my flesh, blood dripping down my arm. It took everything I had to not drop my gun. Something important must have been damaged, because I had lost some control in my hand. I felt familiar hands catch my shoulders, keeping me from falling over.

I looked over at the men who attacked us. Blood blossomed in the starched white shirt of the first one, just above his heart. Another lower, deep into his abdomen. He clutched his wounds and fell to his knees. The other was a pile of goo, an empty capsule on Purple Haze’s fist. 

“What the hell happened?” Mista appeared beside us, his own pistol drawn. He pointed at the assassins on the floor. “Who are these guys?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Fugo dismissed his stand before he could cause any more trouble. “Let’s just get Narancia and get out of here.” 

I felt a hand over my bullet wound. A different kind of pain set in, a burning itching pain. I looked down as I sucked a breath in through my teeth.. Giorno had summoned Gold Experience’s powers, using the bullets to reform the broken tissues. I always forgot how much it hurt to heal that way.

“We can’t do anything until Bruno gets here,” he said as he healed me. “ We will just have to stay put for now.”

“So we’re just sitting ducks?” Mista fiddled with his gun, the Sex Pistols becoming restless and poking thier heads out.

“Don’t you have any faith in me?” A voice said from behind us. I turned my head over to the wall. There he was, a hand pulling back the long zip in the wall that let his head peak in. A small smirk making the whole situation feel just a little better. 

“You were almost late there.” I smirked back. “Let’s move. We don’t have a lot of time.” I nodded at Mista. “Do it.”

He nodded back, the Pistols sliding back into their places. Mista raised his gun, pulling back the hammer. A few seconds ticked by. Then he let three shots fly, Pistols riding by as they traveled up and up to reach their target.

One. Two. Three. The bullets hit their mark. The chain broke and shattered. Sparks scattered into the air. The chandelier fell, lights flickering out until they shattered on the hardwood floor. Glass shards fractured and slid as the metal bent and warped. The last distraction to make the night complete.

“Move!” Bruno shouted. He pulled the wall back, letting Fugo discreetly slip out, followed closely behind by. Mista jumped out behind them, looking over his shoulder to get one last look at his work. I crept over and slid out with a little help from Bruno. Before me, the black limo we had arrived in, its engine alive and roaring, Abbacchio sitting in the driver’s seat. The others began to pile in the back. So far, so good.

Bruno reached out and took my arm. “Where’s Narancia? He should be here by now.” His voice stern to hide the concern in his voice.

“He’s coming,” I tried to reassure him. I looked back in. The sprinkler system had gone off, soaking the remaining guests in cold water. Not a sight of the orange wonder could be seen. 

Something shot past my head, the movement of air and the whizzing sound to accompany it. Crack. Something had lodged itself deep into the wall next to me. I jumped back, and the sound echoed in my ears. It was a sound I was all too familiar with. That was a sniper round. Bruno’s eyes went wide, knowing full well that I could have just died a second before.

Abbacchio rolled down the window and yelled at us. “We need to go, or you are two going to get your asses shot!” He shouted angrily. “Get in the car, I’m driving off without you!”

“We’re not leaving Narancia!” Bruno yelled back. I watched as Abbacchio’s face morphed to show his annoyance. He didn’t argue, though. Just glared.

“Wait for me!” A familiar voice called out. Narancia almost slid through the hole in the wall. He hit the ground, stumbling on his feet for a few steps. He was drenched, covered in water and blood. Whether it was his blood or someone else's, I couldn’t tell. He was battered in some places like he had been in some sort of scuffle. 

He turned around and beamed at us, hands triumphantly on his hips. “I did a pretty good job, didn’t I?”

Mista poked his head out above the open limo door. “Just get in the fucking car!”

Without any hesitation, Bruno let the zipper disappear. The three of us dashed into the car, Bruno sliding in the passenger seat beside Abbacchio, Narancia and I in the back with the others. Everyone seemed on edge and irritated, except Giorno. He was taking this very seriously, but he sat under the back window with a calm demeanor, strapped in for the drive. I sat down next to him, Mista on his other side. The glass window between us and the front seats had been left rolled down.

“What took you so long?” Fugo demanded, sliding the seatbelt over his shoulder. The car changed gear and quickly drove forward.

Water was pooling in the leather seat Narancia was sitting in. “I was distracting everyone, just like you told me to. That was the plan, right?” 

“Watch out!” Bruno yelled from the front. The limo barely missed some of the partygoers running to their vehicles, and narrowly passed other cars trying to pull out of the parking lot.

“I know what I’m doing!” Abbacchio yelled as he jerked the steering wheel around. Everyone swayed as the limo moved this way and that. “Don’t tell me how to drive. Just tell me where I need to go. I can’t drive and navigate at the same time.”

“Damn it,” Mista muttered to no one. He hadn’t put his seatbelt on, and was using his hands to keep him still.

We finally hit the road, bobbing this way and that between other cars. I used Maneater to open my pocket dimension. Reaching in, I pulled out more ammunition and some clips I had already filled. I wished I had brought something more powerful than my pistol, but I didn’t think I would be needing anything else tonight. I should have come more prepared. 

Mista took my lead, reloading his revolver. Both of us knew that this wasn’t going to be over until we made it back to the villa. I made sure I was still carrying his ammunition in my pocket. He tended to run out when it was most inconvenient.

We turned off the main road, speeding away towards the darker and less traveled part of the city. Bruno must be wanting to lose anyone that might be tailing us. Every so often, he would point out a street or tell Abbacchio to turn this way or that. The entire time, Fugo was watching out the back window.

“How long is this going to take us to get back home?” Narancia asked as we turned down another street. He picked up his arms to show the dripping sleeves of  his jackets. “I want to change out of these wet clothes.”

“As long as it takes. We can’t rush these things,” Giorno said softly. One leg was crossed over the other, his hands clasped in his lap. “All things considered, you should be happy that you got out in one piece.”

Narancia put his arm down with some dejection. “I guess. I just wish the smoke from that bomb hadn’t set the sprinklers off.”

With that, we fell into intense silence. No one said a word, the only music was the ambient sounds of the car. There was a heavy tension in the air. No one was willing to break it. I continued my work, taking inventory of everything I had sitting in my pocket.

“Guys,” Fugo said hesitantly, trying to get our attention. “I think someone’s following us.”

I whipped my head around to get a good look out the window. There was a black SUV trailing behind us, its headlights turned off. It was nearly invisible in the urban darkness, the passing streetlights the only reason I could even see it. A feeling of dread was starting to settle in.

“What the hell?” Mista asked. He was turned in the seat watching the car with me. “How long have they been following us?”

“I don’t know, I just noticed them.” Fugo came over, leaning over my shoulder.

 Narancia walked over and draped himself over Mista. “What are they doing?”

“Dude, get off!” Mista pushed him away. “You’re getting my clothes all wet!”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

As they continued to argue back and forth, I watched the car behind us. The dark tinted windows rolled down, and a figure emerged leaning out. In his hand, the familiar glint of a weapon. 

“Get down!” I grabbed the back of Fugo's and Girono’s heads, protecting them as I slid down the smooth seat. Mista and Narancia threw themselves to the floor.  A moment later, glass rained down on us, the sounds of bullets whizzing over our heads. The seats in front of us nearly exploded, leather and fluff floating in the air. 

“What the fuck?!” Abbacchio yelled at us. A few bullets had made their way to the front and lodged themselves in the windshield. Cracks radiated outward. A beautiful display of death. The car swerved back and forth to avoid getting hit, but it was obvious it was not helping much.

“What’s going on?” Bruno looked into the rear view mirror to get a good look at us.

“We’re being attacked!” Narancia yelled from under the seat. Or, as far under the seat he could get. All there really was the small lip of plush material.

The shooting stopped. I let go of Fugo and Girono. They cautiously sat up straight, brushing dust off themselves. Mista peeled himself off the floor, glass falling off his body, and collapsed in his seat again just under the window sill. His revolver was poised for action.“We’re taking care of it, Bruno! Just keep driving!”

I shook the glass out of my hair and pulled my pistol out again. “How many do we have, Mista?”

He took a small look over the edge. “I can see three of them. Can’t tell what kind of weapons they have.”

Giorno took a quick peek at the car. “Are there any stand users?”

“Get down!” I grabbed his shoulder. “They’re after you, remember?” I took a deep breath. That was only half true, but he didn't need to know that right now. "If they are stand users, we'll deal with it as it comes up."

"An excellent idea," Fugo said sarcastically as he sat on the floor and shook out his clothing. Some glass had fallen into the holes of his suit. "That has always worked out for us in the past."

I gave him a mean glare. "Shut up, Fugo. It's not like we have much of a choice right now."

It looked like he was going to say something, but he was cut off by a hail of bullets coming overhead. On instinct, we all ducked and covered our heads, waiting anxiously for the shooting to stop again. The room filled with sparks and fluff as bullets destroyed upholstery and circuit boards alike. 

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. They’d shoot the limo apart if they kept this up. That is if they didn’t kill us first. I took a small look over the edge of the window. From where I was, I could only see one of the shadows we called enemies. I brought up my pistol and took careful aim, focusing intently on what I needed to do. I took a deep breath, pulled the trigger. One. Two. Three.

The shadow collapsed and crumpled onto the asphalt below. There were the sickening sounds of bones breaking and flesh shredding. If the hot lead didn’t kill him, the fall probably would. I felt the adrenaline fill my veins. It was the familiar thrill of the kill.

“Nice shot,” Mista nodded at me. He had to look over Giorno, who was still stoically sitting between us.

“Thanks,” I slid back down the seat. “But taking pot shots like this won’t do us much good. We have to get rid of them somehow.”

“Hold on to something!” Bruno yelled from the front seat. Without another second to spare, we were in one of the hardest turns I had felt in my life. 

I felt myself slide down the seats. I tried to stop myself, but there was no way I wasn’t going to collide with something. I hit the wall with a thunk, my arm getting jammed under me. Before I could move, I felt Giorno ram into my shoulder, pinning me down against the hard interior. That wasn’t bad enough apparently, because Mista slammed into Giorno’s shoulder, the G Forces keeping all of us from moving. While all this was happening, Fugo and Narancia were thrown to the door, the glass and the fluff flying around them. 

The limo pulled out of the turn and continued on. I no longer had the full weight of two grown men on my frame. The two of them sat up without a word.  I eased myself off the wall. Both my arms and my chest hurt. But it was just something I would have to deal with for now.

“How about this,” Mista continued my thought, “You take out the guys shooting at us. I will need you to cover me while I take out the tires. If I do that, they will lose control and crash.”

I gave him a nod. “Good idea. Let’s do it.”

We didn’t have time to lose. Without another thought, I threw myself into the open and began to unload bullets onto out pursuers. From the corner of my eye, I knew that Mista was lining up his shot and the Pistols were communicating to each other. I emptied my clip. I watched another figure fall and die against the black road under us.

Maneater opened the pocket, and I quickly switched out the clips. I loaded a bullet into the chamber. I felt the recoil as I pulled the trigger. Another victim caught half out of the window. It was all so familiar, I had done this a thousand times. Years of training had prepared me for this very moment.

Another figure appeared in the window, brandishing a rifle in his hand. Before I could get a good handle on his position, he had lit up the darkness with flashes of gunfire. Bullets bounced off the road and the limo. I fired off some shots, doing whatever I could to take him out before he hit me. But I was a little too late. 

It felt like I had been punched and stabbed at the same time. I fell back out of the line of fire, clutching bullet wounds in my side. I could feel my blood start to seep into the dress. A moment later, another hand joined mine. The familiar burning itching pain started again. I looked over to see Giorno again. His face was focused in concentration. Mista beside him was wearing a similar expression.

Mista let off two shots into the night. A moment later, the car was swaying this way and that. One of the front tires was instantly deflated and was barely holding on. It ground to a halt, flipping over and sliding across the course asphalt. Sparks lit up the night and the metal screeching filled the air.

“Nice work,” I gave him a tired smile. I was already getting tired of getting shot.

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Giorno said. He pointed out the window. “They didn’t come alone.”

Mista and I turned. Elegantly sliding forward was another SUV, just as imposing and dangerous as the first. They must have been waiting behind in case something like this happened. 

“Shit,” Mista hissed between his teeth. “They don’t stop, do they?”

“No,” I said quietly. I dropped the clip in my gun, readying to replace it. “Let’s keep going. The same plan should work for this car well.” The next clip slid into place with a satisfying click.

“Wait.” Giorno’s eyes intently watched me. He leaned over, placing a hand over my hand holding my pistol. I felt his chest against my back.  His face was situated right next to mine, eyes trained on the black metal beast following close behind. I could feel the signature warm feeling of Gold Experience under my hand, along with a slight flush in my face. 

“You’re using that trick again?” Mista smirked. 

Again? What did he mean? I didn’t get a chance to ask before I felt Giorno lean in a little closer.

“Shoot at the car,” He whispered in my ear. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. He knew I understood. I brought the gun level to my target, and took a deep breath. I settled into the moment. Muscle memory took hold. Pulled the trigger. 

Bullets flew into the night, seemingly moving on their own accord. They struck the grill of the SUV, shattered the headlights, burying themselves into the metal shell. For a moment, nothing happened. We waited in strange silence. Then, faster than what would seem natural, what looked like tree roots sprung out of the car. They grew and wound themselves into the working parts. Tendrils worked like fingers reaching under the hood into the engine and wrapping themselves around the axel and wheels below.

Loud grinding and screeching tore at my ears. I watched as the wheels locked up, sliding across the asphalt and tearing apart the tires. The car ground to a halt, now a strange mangle of metal and tree. It flipped, rolled, windows shattering and doors being forced off. The frame caved in on itself, and parts broke off and were lost in the darkness. If anyone was still alive, they were in terrible pain. 

I exhaled. Giorno let go of my hand, but he didn’t leave my side. He watched the carnage as it unfolded in front of us. 

“Damn,” Mista muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning out the window. “I’m glad I’m on your side, Giorno. Sometimes I forget how terrifying you can be.”

I made my way down the hall, my bare feet pressing into the soft carpet below. I still had some bruising from the night before, but I had come out in worse shape on past assignments. I was happy to be alive, and that I had managed to keep everyone else alive. A few bruises were well worth the price of living another day. 

The large wooden door stopped me in my path. It was the door to Giorno’s office. He had asked me to come by. I raised my hand and gave it a knock. 

“Come in,” his voice carried through elegantly carved wood. I took hold of the handle and opened the door.

He was sitting behind his desk, one hand holding a document, the other pressed against his mouth in thought. He hadn’t changed his clothes from the night before. His suit jacket was draped over the chair he sat in, his dress shirt half unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up. The braid down his back had been undone. Blond locks snaked and curled around his shoulders and down his back. The mid morning sun did nothing to hide the tiredness written on his face.

My eyes met his as I closed the door behind me. He laid the document on top of one of the many stacks on his desk. “(Y/N), thank you for coming to see me.”

I crossed the room and sat down in the chair set up across from him. “It’s not a problem.” I took another moment to look over his form. I gave him a concerned look. “Giorno, I’m not going to sugar-coat this. You look terrible. Have you slept at all since we got back?”

Giorno quietly sighed, closing his eyes. “No, I haven’t. Bruno and I have been working all night trying to get information on the people that attacked us last night. It has been… Difficult. This organization is very good at covering their tracks.”

“From what it sounds like, you must need my help,” I said calmly and quietly. 

He opened his tired blue eyes. “You seem to know a lot about them. Your information would be invaluable to us. While we were able to survive their attack last night, I doubt they will give up so easily. We need to get ahead of them before they can make another move.”

I took a deep breath. “You are right about that.” I carefully considered what I was about to do. “Giorno, before this goes any further, I need to tell you something. It’s important to what happened last night.”

His eyebrows raised slightly.

I fiddled with my fingers. I didn’t want to do this. It would ruin everything that I had worked for the past two years. Probably end the relationship between me and Giorno. But I had no other choice. If I truly loved him like I thought I did, I would tell him the truth about myself, about everything I had done.

So I told him. Slowly and carefully, I told him about my time in the organization, my assignment to gather intel on him, the inevitable change of heart. I told him that I met Henri at the party in order to get out and end the assignment, and how I was ordered to kill my target, Giorno. The entire time, he never changed his expression, only listened.

"So, to make a long story short, I am the reason you were attacked last night," I solemnly dropped my head. "I'm so sorry. I never meant for it to go this far. I never meant to put you in danger."

Giorno closed his eyes again, thinking over what I had said. "Well, that answers some questions we’ve had for a while." 

I furrowed my brows. "What do you mean?"

He gave a tired smile. "We've known what you were up to for a while. I have to admit, you were good at avoiding the security system. But no matter how hard they try, no one can escape the power of  Moody Blues."

I sat there stunned. "What?”

He opened his eyes. "You are excellent as a bodyguard and assassin. Almost too excellent. It would be a mistake to let someone with your talents go to waste. So we used you to send disinformation to whoever you worked for. I started switching out some of the documents with fakes and telling you lies about what we were doing. That way, you would stay working for us longer without compromising our safety. But like you said, you started doing that on your own after a while. We didn't need to worry about you as much after that."

His words weren’t sinking in properly. “So, Abbacchio was spying on me the entire time?” I asked quietly

“He’s not the most trusting person.”

I buried my head in my hands. This was terrible. All that time, I had been lying for nothing. It just made me feel even more guilty and stupid about what I had done. All of this could have been avoided if I had told them sooner. 

 “I could have killed you at any time,” I said without looking up at him. “Why did you trust me? Why did you let me go on like this for so long?”

For a few agonizing minutes, Giorno said nothing. I heard him take a slow breath in. “Because you have a good heart. I could see it from the very beginning.”

I looked up at him, feeling tears behind my eyes.. “I have killed many people over the years, Giorno. I’ve lied to you and everyone else here. I betrayed the organization I dedicated years of my life to. Do you call that the actions of a good person?”

His blues eyes gazed deep into my soul, the intensity making me want to look away. “Like you said, you could have killed me at any time. But you didn’t. You did quite the opposite in fact, saving my life on many occasions. And in the end, you betrayed that organization to protect your new teammates, whom you grew to care for over the years you worked with them. That sounds like the actions of a good person trying to make the best out of a bad situation.”

A few tears ran down my cheeks. I brushed them off with the palm of my hand, trying to avoid his gaze. It was becoming clear why I had fallen so helplessly for him. For all the people here. They had touched my heart in a way that no one else had. What a fool I was. 

“While we are on the subject of confessions,” Giorno continued, “I have one of my own.”

I gave a half-hearted chuckle, a hand still clutching my face.. “What kind of secret would you have to confess to me, Don Giovanna? You don’t keep them lightly.”

He looked away for a moment, eyes trailing to the floor. It was almost like he was trying to decide what he wanted to say next. His blue eyes slowly wandered back to my face, a strange confidence giving them light.

“I have to admit, stuff like this is not what I am good at. I have never had to do something like this.  Being vulnerable goes contrary to everything I have done to get to this point in my life.” 

I felt my face scrunch up in confusion. “Giorno, you’re not making any sense. What’s going on?”

He gave a tired sigh. “I have grown to care very deeply for you, (Y/N). More deeply than I should have allowed to happen. I… kept this from you because pursuing any sort of relationship would violate our agreement. I never intended for things to escalate to this point…”

Without another thought, I bolted from my chair and circled around the desk. His face tilted up to watch me as I approached him. Confusion and concern was written all over his body language. There was pain behind his eyes. It hurt for me to witness him in such a state.

I threw my arms around his shoulders, burying my face in his neck. I stood there awkwardly, the bottom half of my body still in the standing position.. I felt him freeze for a moment. I must have startled him. Very slowly, he reached up around me and pulled me down. He let me settle into his lap, settling into his chest. He held onto me like the world was ending.

I moved my head over and kissed his cheek. “Fuck the agreement,” I whispered. “I love you, Giorno.”

[sister-ruan]

Smallpox and Voodoo

“We found a voodoo doll in Lady Ye Xiu’s room with Imperial Noble Consort Nian’s name on it,” the eunuch held up the doll carefully.

“What?!” Ye Xiu’s face contorted in shock, “My room?!”

“How dare you!” The Imperial Noble Consort scolded, “What have I ever done to you?!”

“Silence!” The Emperor snapped, “I will not tolerate this behavior!”

“Indeed,” Meili-Jin mused, “What a silly trick.”

“Pardon?” The Empress asked, arching a brow, “You seem knowing.”

“Nothing special,” Meili-Jia said before taking the doll, “It’s just a silly trick. This isn’t a real voodoo doll, but some makeshift rush job someone made to scare us and divert our attention.”

“Oh? How do you know it’s fake?” Nian asked, brushing a hair from her face.

“In the village I grew up in, there was a local witch who liked to tell the children her tricks,” Meili-Jia explained, “To properly perform voodoo, one must make the doll using the target’s hair and or blood.” She took a pin out of her hair before looking at the doll.

“W-Wait! If it’s real-!” Meili-Jia didn’t wait for the Imperial Noble Consort to finish, using the pin to cut open the doll. Everyone held their breath, looking between Consort Virtue and the Imperial Noble Consort.

Meili-Jia pulled out the stuffing, no more than wool.

“Anyone would be foolish to harm Imperial Noble Consort Nian,” she said, tossing the doll at the woman’s feet, “Especially with her being pregnant. Ye Xiu is childish, but no fool. If she did make this, then she was forced and given a time limit. She didn’t have the time to look into how to make a proper doll. This is a poor attempt at scaring everyone and diverting our attention.”

“Divert?” The Emperor asked, “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it a bit odd? Beiyu comes down with smallpox and in the same day his mother is accused of voodoo?” Meili-Jia asked, “Ye Xiu is being set up, and so is her son.”

“This is all speculation,” The Empress sighed, “Why would someone set her up?”

“You tell me,” Consort Virtue asked, “With your First Prince Beiyan dead, Beiyu is the eldest son of His Majesty. And even with Imperial Noble Consort expecting, it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine Ye Xiu receiving enough favor from His Highness to rival even you. But if Ye Xiu is disposed of, even if Beiyu survives both you and Imperial Noble Consort will maintain your positions.”

“You’re saying this is a ruse, but isn’t it strange that you have knowledge of witchcraft?” Nian asked, trying to calm herself, “Who’s to say you didn’t do it?”

“Why would I bring forth my knowledge if I were guilty?” Meili-Jin countered, “Ye Xiu is my sister, and even if we disagreed, I cannot stand idly by as she is tortured.” There was a moment when no one spoke. Meili-Jia went to where Ye Xiu knelt, sobbing into her hands. She gently helped her up, straightening her hair. “The inner robes were made with material originally owned by the Empress and then given to me. I’m sure between when I made the robes and now, they were tampered with. After all, Beiyu is a few months old, children wear clothes more than once,” she spoke softly, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “If I had done something before I gave Ye Xiu the robes, both she and Beiyu would be sick.”

“Beside being grief stricken over her son, Ye Xiu seems fine,” Daijia observed, “Being around Beiyu, shouldn’t she be sick?”

“She and whoever else handled the clothing,” Meili-Jia nodded, “But I’m not knowledgeable of viruses besides smallpox being contagious. How could someone transport something like that into a place like here?”

“If someone were to put the bodily fluids of a person with the virus into a container, it may make it easy to transport,” the Imperial Physician said, “If the container is clean, the person can transport it without being sick.”

“Of course!” Guard Liwei exclaimed, “We were taught that biological warfare is often how battles between foreign nations are done quietly. Such a thing has been done before.”

“How convenient,” Meili-Jia smiled, “Imperial Noble Consort Nian, isn’t your brother one of the leading generals in the Emperor’s army?”

“What are you implying?” Suyan asked, “By having the virus here, I could be infected too! My brother wouldn’t want my baby to die!”

“But you’d benefit the most from this,” Ruyan agreed, “With the first prince dead and Beiyu out of the way, all you’d need to do is have a prince.”

“Your Highness, they’re picking on me!” Suyan looked the the emperor, “I came to check on my sister and nephew and I get accused of!”

“Be honest, you came to watch Ye Xiu be destroyed,” Daijia looked coldly, “Between having the means of transporting a deadly virus and a false voodoo doll with your name on it, how could you not be seen as the culprit?”

“That’s enough!” Lingchen snapped, “We’re spending too much time pointing fingers and not enough time finding a cure! My son’s life is on the line.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Meili-Jia said softly, “I apologize for leading this. I just feel for Ye Xiu, no mother should go through this.”

“That’s very compassionate of you,” the Empress nodded, “Despite you two not getting along, you stand up for her.”

“Well, let’s not linger much longer,” the Imperial Noble Consort decided, “We don’t want the virus to spread unnecessarily.” With a murmur of agreement, the group left.

“Sister Ruan, wait,” Ye Xiu said, grabbing Consort Virtue’s sleeve, “Why…? Why did you stand up to me? When Consort Peace was alive, I was nothing but cruel to you.”

“Like I said, we’re sisters,” Meili-Jia said, “We may bicker and sometimes treat each other poorly, but we must stand together when others put us in danger.”

“But I wouldn’t have done that for you…” Ye Xiu wiped her tears on her sleeve, “I would have just watched.”

“Then let this be a lesson,” Meili-Jia offered her handkerchief, “In this world where we all struggle to stand out to the Emperor and kingdom, sometimes our greatest weapon is kindness.”

“I am in your debt… sister…”

Authors Notes:

WOOOOOOOOOOOO! I’ve been wanting to write something with Meili-Jia for a while! I’ve always felt badly that Ye Xiu was punished while her son was left as a ransom tool. And the male plot shows a good scenario to mess with!

For those who are wondering Liwei is Ling Ruo and Yilan’s brother. He’s actually pretty quiet and doesn’t talk very much. Not because he doesn’t have anything to say, but because he likes to observe more than interact. Unlike Meili-Jia who jumps in whenever something is amiss (well... not all the time.) Also, Meili-Jia’s thoughts about Suyan protesting against opening the doll? “It’s probably not real so whatever. And if it is? Eh, you dying wouldn’t be so bad. It’d be worth being killed.”

So, yeah! I hope you guys enjoyed!

[rockpapertheodore]

A Toast to Trouble

Bonnie of Braugh, the Goliath of Chapel Bay, is the personal bodyguard of Lady Remadia Seneca, the Countess of Chapel Bay. For a year, she has served faithfully and happily under Her Ladyship, having to do little more than be an ear for Lady Seneca’s machinations and withering observations of the nobility, and serve a towering wall of iron-clad muscle and stand there with her fuck-off heavy warhammer to intimidate anyone who starts getting too disagreeable towards the Countess.

Lady Seneca has seen fit to reward her loyal service with a night off. Unfortunately, she has also seen fit to commission the ethereal twin couturiers, Artemis and Apollo, to fit her for a very fancy dress, for a very fancy party. 

Bonnie was under the impression that she was supposed to rewarded for her loyal service, not damned straight to her own personal hell.

Tags for Content: Explicit, Low Fantasy, Original Work, Casual Sex, Bisexuality, Love and Affection, (a very brief scene of) M/F, (4.5k words worth of) F/F, D/s dynamics, Alcohol, consent is sexy, sober consent is even sexier, a rather unprofessional development in an otherwise professional relationship. WORD COUNT: 11,561 words

Quick note: I’m a queer cis man writing a wlw story, and I’ve tried to portray everything to the best of my ability. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and, please, i implore you, correct me if I’ve gotten anything wrong, particularly with the romance scene. Thanks <3

Quick note 2: Getting this to format properly for Tungles dot Bungles was hell, I apologize profusely if there’s anything hideously goofy with it

A Toast to Trouble

“Lady Seneca, may I speak frankly with you?” Bonnie of Braugh sputtered, standing stiffly in front of the mirror as the twin couturiers, Artemis and Apollo, went about their business cleaning up her appearance - perfecting the make-up on her face and making her suitable for the public.

Lady Remadia Seneca, Countess of Chapel Bay, lounged on the gilded divan near the door, idly swirling a glass of wine as she gleefully watched the twins struggle to do their work with the colossal woman, who dwarfed them considerably. “If I said no, would you hear it?” She asked, taking a sip of her wine that was the same deep red as Bonnie's dress.

“Absolutely not.”

“Then why bother asking?”

“Because it bothers you, my lady,” Bonnie said, as she felt Apollo begin to tighten the girdle over the dress. Artemis was making her way around Bonnie, smoothing out the fabric under the girdle where it had started to bunch up.

“Speak away, Bonnie.”

“Why must I wear this horrible outfit?”

Lady Seneca rolled her eyes. “Bonnie, you do a terrible disservice to yourself. You look absolutely stunning. Does she not, Artemis? Apollo?”

“We agree with you, Lady Seneca,” Apollo said, standing on a stool so that he could work at the top strings of the girdle, tying them into place.

“We do, indeed. Bonnie. You look beautiful, love.” Artemis said as she reached up, gently poking Bonnie's nose. Bonnie's face scrunched up in response. Artemis winked up at her and went about her work.

“Please, you two, not this. Why can't I wear my armor? How am I supposed to do my job like this?”

“It is a party, darling, worry not! The only things you should concern yourself with are dancing and being merry.”

“And should there be trouble? You very well won't let me carry my hammer with me.” Bonnie looked to the twins, hoping they'd agree with her, at least on this. Instead, they were busy packing away their tools.

“Bonnie, my beautiful brute, how I do adore thee.” Lady Seneca rose from the divan, her dress flowing behind her, and opened the door.

“That's not an answer.”

“I'm already going out to the party! I can't hear you!”

“Lady Seneca!”

“See you amongst the rabble, love! Ta!”

“Remy!” Bonnie shouted, desperate, to no avail. “Damn it.” Crestfallen, she stared at the door, hoping that Lady Seneca would come back through and tell her it was all some hilarious joke. She sighed and sat down on the stool Apollo had been standing on, slouching as far as her dress would let her. “I really have to go out there, don't I?”

Artemis and Apollo nodded, moving to Bonnie's sides to encompass her in a compassionate hug. “Trust us, love. You'll do fine,” Apollo murmured into her ear. Artemis laid a gentle kiss on Bonnie's cheek. “You are lovely.”

Bonnie sighed dramatically, wrapping a powerful arm around the two of them and forcing them into her lap. “I don't give a shit about that! What I'm terrified of is having to interact with these high-society types as something other than their hired muscle! I don't know how to hold a conversation with these people beyond, 'yes, m'lord,' or 'no, your grace!” She pulled them in so she could rest her chin on both of their heads as they each hugged an arm. “Do any of them know anything about smithing? Perhaps some steel merchant or a jeweller? My hands are too big for such delicate work, but perhaps we'd have some shared appreciation for craftsmanship.”

“You'll never know until you go out there,” Artemis said, resting her cheek against Bonnie's bicep. Apollo muttered, “and you're never going to get out there until you get over yourself. Ow!” Bonnie had dug her chin into the top of his head. “I'm just saying, love, you're going to have to let us free at some point and go.”

“But what if I don't want to let you go? What if I want to smuggle you two in my bustier?”

“Bonnie.”

Bonnie whined and loosened her grip on the twins, allowing them to slip out from her arms. The twins turned, offering their hands to help her up. Though Bonnie didn't need it, she appreciated the gesture, taking their offered hands and offering a sarcastic curtsy to them in thanks. They rolled their eyes and began to push her towards the door. Bonnie laughed, shooing them away. “Leave me alone, you two, I've got this.”

-The Party-

I haven’t got this, Bonnie thought as she tried to navigate the social seas of high-society. Mumbled half-attempts to strike up conversation left her lips time and again, only to be ignored or met with shocked stares. I have no idea how to talk to these people. She could feel every glance being cast her way as she stood easily head and shoulders above those gathered for the Countess's party, too much attention being paid to her scars and her height. She felt her face beginning to flush in panic as she grabbed a carafe of water and found herself a seat on an isolated chaise lounge. On a nearby table sat an unattended glass of wine, which she commandeered, dumping its contents into a potted bush of some sort and refilling it with cool water. She downed the glass and poured herself another, putting the carafe down so she could nurse the glass in both her hands. Contemplating the ripples of the water, she lost herself in thought as she tried to wrap her head around everything going on.

“I'm proud of you, you know.”

Bonnie snapped to attention, the Countess's lips a hair's breadth from her ear. She could smell the wine on the Countess's breath.

“To be quite honest, I thought that I had pushed too far by insisting you attend as my guest, rather than as my bodyguard.”

“I am out of my league here, my lady.”

“Oh I do so love it when you call me that, dear Bonnie, but tonight you don't have to be so formal.” Lady Seneca finally leaned away from Bonnie, and Bonnie felt herself relax. “Come, let us go onto the balcony. The fresh air will do us wonders.”

Suddenly Lady Seneca’s hand was in Bonnie’s and she was being pulled up and away, being led through the crowd, and an invisible weight was lifted from Bonnie’s shoulders as they emerged from the loud claustrophobia of the party into the relative quiet of the night. The balcony they were on was blessedly unoccupied, the nearest group of party goers a stone’s throw away on a balcony of their own, allowing Bonnie to appreciate the view that spread out beneath her. The twinkling of street lamps and illuminated windows from the dark city below captivated Bonnie, her eyes tracing the curve of the city around the bay until it faded into dark silhouettes in the distance. Off on a great rock in the middle of the harbor, the Chapel Bay Lighthouse shone like a bright star against the rippling black water of the night.

“Was I right, dear Bonnie?”

“Very much so, my lady.” Bonnie said, but Lady Seneca coughed expectantly, frowning. “Lady Seneca?” Another cough. “Remadia?” Bonnie said hesitantly, and was met with an excited grin. Bonnie smiled back.

“Close enough, my dear Bonnie. You didn’t hesitate to call my name earlier, though, did you?”

Bonnie felt her face heat with embarrassment. “First of all, my, wait, Lady, no,” Bonnie felt her thoughts twisting up in her brain, “Remadia. First of all, I remained as courteous as I could. Then, uh,” Bonnie averted her gaze from Remadia’s smiling eyes, “I was panicking.”

“You’re not panicking anymore, are you?”

“Not currently, no. I definitely had been until you intervened. So, um, thank you.” Bonnie’s mouth felt dry and tight, remembering the glass of water in her hand, drank the full glass in a single mouthful. She saw Remadia smiling wide again out of the corner of her eye and wished she had another glass of water.

“I dare say, Bonnie; impressive. What are you drinking?”

“Water, m’lady- I mean, Remadia.”

Remadia gave her a playful punch on the arm. “Oh, please, Bonnie, how are you supposed to get into trouble if you’re only drinking water?”

“I don’t like to drink, and I really don’t want to, uh, get into trouble.”

“Nonsense! I had this absolutely wonderful port brought in this morning - though that scrawny weasel Lord McKinsey could barely handle the scent of it, let alone a full glass - I’m sure that it’ll do wonders for your disposition, and-” Remadia had begun to wander away from Bonnie as she rambled, only to be halted by Bonnie’s hand, large enough to almost fully envelop her bicep.

“Please, Lady Seneca.”

Remadia was taken aback by the unexpected desperation in Bonnie’s voice, and turned her head to contemplate the knuckles of Bonnie’s fingers, so very gently wrapped around her arm. She felt the protest she had been going to say melt away in her throat as her eyes followed up Bonnie’s arm to meet her pleading gaze. Her eyes looked golden in the light from the windows behind Remadia, dark eyelashes blending in against the dark eyeshadow the twins had given her. Remadia felt her heart soften and reached up to pull Bonnie’s hand from her arm. Bonnie opened her mouth to say something, but Remadia didn’t hear it as she wrapped her own arms around Bonnie, hugging her tightly, face buried fully in the warmth of Bonnie’s bosom.

Shocked, Bonnie hesitantly returned the hug with one arm, her other coming up to gingerly stroking Remadia’s hair. “Remadia, are you drunk?”

There was a mumbled response, but Remadia’s words were muffled by the fabric of Bonnie’s dress.

“Sorry, couldn’t hear that.” Bonnie stopped petting Remadia’s hair to gently grip it and pressure Remadia into tilting her head back and out of Bonnie’s chest.

“Perhaps moreso than I thought, dear Bonnie, but not hideously.” Remadia’s eyes wandered across Bonnie’s face before they narrowed, darting around conspiratorially, before she said, “Come here, love, I have a secret I wish to share with you and being eye-level with the underside of your tits makes that difficult. Lean down to me.”

Bonnie was confused, and somewhat surprised by Remadia’s bruskness. “Remadia, we’re alone here, you can speak.”

“Yes, but secrets are no fun unless they’re whispered! Come down to my level.” Remadia had a mischievous grin on her face that she was struggling to conceal.

Bonnie rolled her eyes and acquiesced, leaning down to Remadia’s level, before her face was suddenly grasped between Remadia’s hands, and she felt soft lips against hers. In a moment of shock, Bonnie froze, mouth slack and eyes wide, and in that moment she felt fingers cradle her chin and grip the back of her head as Remadia’s tongue parted her lips. She could taste the wine Remadia had been drinking earlier, bittersweet and something she would normally find disagreeable.

In this moment, however, she wasn’t sure if she found it unpleasant.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. Remadia’s eyes were unfocused as she pulled away, a light flush on her face, before meeting Bonnie’s stunned gaze, letting go of Bonnie’s face with one hand and patting her cheekily with the other. She winked at Bonnie. “I have a party to return to, dear Bonnie. Weren’t you glad you leaned down?” She wiped the sides of her mouth with her thumb, swiping away a smear of lipstick and spittle, before turning the same attention to Bonnie’s mouth with that same thumb. She patted Bonnie’s cheek again. “To trouble?”

With that, she was gone, and Bonnie was left dumbfounded as Remadia disappeared back into the party. Bonnie looked around, still not processing what had just happened. The other balcony either didn’t notice what happened, or had, and were gossiping quietly amongst themselves about it.

“Uh, yeah. To trouble,” Bonnie said to the open air, “I guess.”

-To Trouble?-

It took her the better part of thirty minutes to regain her senses and reenter the party, catching sight of and chasing down one of the men with serving trays of drinks, someone who in any other situation was her peer, and as she approached him, she noticed a change in how she was carrying herself. Her back was straighter, and she felt more confident, no longer shying away from the curious and judgmental gazes being cast her way. She still felt out of place, but no longer did she feel like a sheep amongst wolves. To trouble, she thought to herself as she grabbed two glasses of some sort of foreign juice, confirming with the serving man that it wasn’t wine. She turned around to perhaps find someone to talk to, only to discover that someone had come to her as she nearly walked in to him, managing to keep her glasses of juice steady.

“Forgive me, my lady, I didn’t mean to startle you,” The man said, offering a sweeping bow as Bonnie stepped back from him, eyeing him carefully. His dark, thick lashes lifted to reveal wondrous hazel eyes, which rose to meet her own. He quirked an eyebrow as a playful grin tugged at the corner of his lips, and Bonnie felt her heart flutter. He was beautiful.

“No, please, forgive me!” Bonnie managed to say, panicking. “I should have looked before I started walking.” She was at a loss for words, unsure of how to proceed. She could feel her new confidence fading rapidly. She faltered, stumbling for words. She noticed he didn’t have a drink, and held out one of hers. “Juice?”

The man took her awkwardness in stride, accepting the glass graciously. “Thank you, my lady.” He sniffed it, swirling the glass before taking a sip. “Not wine?”

“Oh, no, I don’t care much for drinking.”

“Do you care much for dancing?”

He asked it so idly, it took Bonnie a moment to pick up on what his question implied, and she felt her face grow hot as she blushed. She stammered, mouth searching for a response, as she watched the look on the man’s face grow concerned.

“Have I asked something wrong? Do I offend?”

“Oh, n-no! You don’t, I don’t, nobody’s ever, uh-” she stuttered, words stumbling out of her mouth, “I’m too big.” The area from her neck to her ears felt as if they were on fire, she was so flushed in embarrassment.

The man grinned wolfishly at her, worrying in its similarity to Remadia’s. “Am I to understand that nobody has ever asked you to dance?”

Bonnie finally managed to get her mouth under control, though it felt dry “I’ve never been taught, and I, uh,” she paused, taking a drink from her glass “most people find my, uh, size,” she paused again, “to be intimidating.” His grin softened, and she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with him. She finished drinking the rest of her juice.

“I don’t find your size to be intimidating.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly his hand was in hers, and the empty glass was divested from her fingers, and for the second time that night Bonnie was being led away. Before she knew it they were standing on the dancefloor surrounded by other dancing pairs. The music seemed too loud and her heart pounded in her throat. Her new companion, however, remained calm as he took her left hand and placed it on his right arm, placed his right hand just below her shoulder blade, took her right hand in his left, and with a shout of “move with me!” he raised their conjoined hands and confidently began to move them both to the rhythm of the music. Bonnie struggled to keep to the simple steps he was guiding her through, always being led by his assertive but gentle directions. After a minute of stiff shuffling, however, Bonnie began to relax into the dance. Eventually, she became less aware of the loud music, and was finally able to focus on the face of her companion, who was confident and relaxed, despite her clumsy, so-called dancing.

Those enchanting hazel eyes met hers, glittering jewels of amber and emerald set against deep, olive skin; dark, perfectly coiffed hair, shaved down on the sides; a handlebar moustache and the dark patch below framing a pair of impressively shapely lips, plump and dusky pink. Those soft-looking lips lifted into a smirk as her gaze lingered upon them.

“See something you like, my lady?” He said, raising his voice to be heard over the music.

Bonnie felt herself blush reflexively, but there was something in the quirk of his mouth and the words he said that reminded her again of Remadia, and the words, to trouble, floated to the forefront of her thoughts. She felt a rush of confidence and the words, “Maybe I do, little man,” spilled out of her mouth before she could think about what she was saying. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized what she had just said - how she said it like a challenge - and she was terrified of his response.

It was like she had cast chum into shark-infested waters.

His hand tightened around hers firmly, and the hand on her shoulder blade dropped to her waist, pulling her in tightly to him. He began to move their dance between the other couples, twisting and turning, his eyes locked to hers and the intensity between them building as he led them away from the band and eventually off the dancefloor, just as the orchestra finished playing.

“Might the lady tell me what it is she likes?” He said, his gaze no less intense now that they were away from dancefloor. He was still holding her to him.

“How honest do you want me to be?” Bonnie said, raising her eyebrow. She hoped the question sounded confident. She felt reckless. Excited. She felt his hand slide down below her waist, coming to rest at the top of her rump.

“At least as honest as I am.”

Bonnie felt a throb of lust pulse through her. To trouble!

-To Trouble!-

The door hadn’t even fully shut behind them before he had pulled her down into a passionate kiss, and, unlike earlier, Bonnie didn’t just let the kiss happen to her in shock. She bent down, wrapping her hands under his ass, and lifted him, pinning him against the wall. Bonnie could feel his cock through his pants, throbbing against the underside of her breasts as she leaned into him and he wrapped his legs around her. “Just a little further down the hall now, pretty boy.” She said against his lips, her forehead pressed against his. He kissed her again as she pulled him away from the wall and began to carry him down the corridor, his mouth moving from her lips down her cheek and along her jawline. “I don’t even know your name,” she said, kissing the nape of his neck and fumbling with the doorknob to the receiving room she had been leading him to.

“Pretty boy will do.”

“I like it,” she said as she opened the door, following it inwards, thankful that there wasn’t anybody inside. “I like you, pretty boy.”

“Absolutely wonderful. Would you mind if I showed you my own form of appreciation?” Pretty boy asked as he unwrapped his legs from her, lowering himself down her body, laying kisses along the way. Then he reached her waist and one hand began to lift up the hem of her dress as the other cupped her large backside, fingers digging into the dense flesh there. He began to guide her backwards towards the wall, and, when he felt her back connect, disappeared under her dress. She gasped as she felt soft lips greeting her clit, her knees going weak as he sucked hard and his tongue moved against her.

“Oh, pretty boy, I like that,” she moaned hard as he answered her praise with his tongue, penetrating her, licking shallow and and then deep.

He stopped for a moment, and from beneath her dress she heard, “Tell me, what is your name?”

“Bonnie.” She whimpered as he sucked gently on her. He paused.

“The Goliath of Chapel Bay?”

“The very same,” she managed to trill out - a confident, no, a pleased thrill running up her core at the recognition - as he ate at her with renewed vigour. She tried to pull his head into her with her thighs, but she couldn’t regain control of her legs, barely managing to stay upright as she felt the hand on her ass dig aggressively into her flesh. His other hand ran along her skin, gently teasing at the sensitive skin between her pucker and her cunt before his fingers worked their way up, parting her and gently playing at her slick, sensitive and swollen opening.

He pulled away, breathing heavily. “I never thought I’d meet you like this. You’re so much bigger than I could have imagined.”

“You like them big, pretty boy?” she managed to gasp, before suddenly his fingers were inside her, and his mouth was working her clit and her breath was knocked from her as she came, shaking against his face. Her abdominal muscles tensed as the orgasm rocked through her and she lost control of her legs, her hips grinding forward as her hand clamped down against the back of his head to hold him in place. Guttural sounds managed to escape her throat as she choked on air, trying to regain some sense of composure and failing wonderfully. Trembling, she sank against the wall and down to the floor.

As she struggled to lower herself, he remained in this crouched position, and the weight of her body drew her dress off him, revealing his smiling face, moustache damp and unstyled with her juices.

“Like is a bit of an understatement, methinks. A man does not climb the highest peaks for mere like of the mountain.” He said it so earnestly Bonnie felt her heart leap in her chest. She tried to respond, but her mouth was dry and her eyes unfocused. She reached out to drag him in for a kiss, but he grabbed her hand, suddenly attentive to something outside the room. She couldn’t hear anything over her own heartbeat. He leaned in and kissed her, and when he pulled away, her face was sticky with her own come. “Forgive me, Bonnie. My companions call for me.” In a blink, he was standing up and moving towards the door.

“You’re leaving?” Bonnie whined pathetically as he walked away. He stopped before opening the door, and took a deep bow.

“I swear to you, Bonnie, Goliath of Chapel Bay, our paths will cross again.” And with that, he was gone, the door closing behind him with a click!

“Damn it,” Bonnie said, as she began to pull herself together. She stood up, still shaky, and began to pat down her dress, making sure she hadn’t soaked through her clothes. “Oh I bet I reek.” She muttered to herself. Her head was muddled with afterglow, but she felt confident that she at least looked presentable.

Now to do something about the smell, she thought as she left the room, making a stumbling detour away from the party and towards the twins’ quarters.

-Back to the Party-

Bonnie took longer than she had expected to return to the party, and not in the way that she had wanted. She was still horny and had been hoping the twins were amenable to resolving that particular issue, but they weren’t in their quarters, so Bonnie found their perfumes and spritzed herself with one that smelled strongly of roses before she caught sight of herself in the mirror. The careful makeup that the twins had given her was smeared horribly, the color applied to her lips spread about her mouth, so she found a kerchief and set about cleaning up her face as carefully as possible, trying to preserve what she could.

By the time she made it back to the main hall, the party was drawing to a close and Remadia’s guests were filing out the doors. Bonnie scanned the crowd, expecting to see the Countess somewhere bidding her guests farewell, but she was nowhere to be found amidst the rabble. She looked elsewhere throughout the main hall, and almost walked past the door to the balcony that they had gone out onto earlier, when she stopped, turning to peer through the glass. Remadia sat on a bench that hadn’t been there earlier, arms at her sides and feet idly kicking as she looked out over the balcony ledge.

Bonnie pushed through the doors, not acknowledged by Remadia until Bonnie was sitting next to her. “Bit lonely out here, isn’t it?”

Remadia waved off the comment, unfazed by Bonnie’s sudden appearance. “Pshaw, my dear Bonnie. It’s a lovely night in my city, and I knew you’d find me eventually,” she said as if it were a matter of fact, her voice thick and worn from the night. She yawned, stretching herself out before commandeering Bonnie’s arm, pulling it around her like a blanket as she leaned into Bonnie and rested her head fully against Bonnie’s breast. “You stink hideously of roses, my dear, and I know that’s not the perfume I gave you earlier,” she remarked,  before cuddling deeper against Bonnie, nuzzling her face against Bonnie’s breast as much as she could from the side.

Bonnie had felt a flush creeping across her face from the moment Remadia had started touching her, but she blushed fully in response to her statement. “I, well,” Bonnie gulped as Remadia looked up from her tit, an eyebrow quirked in curiosity. “I took your toast to trouble to heart, and found myself a little trouble.”

Remadia raised both of her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh really? How utterly droll, my dear.” Remadia purred, only moving her mouth from its position against Bonnie so that she could speak with relative clarity. “Was it a scuffle? A row? Or was it romantic trouble? Did you dance?”

Bonnie smiled down softly at Remadia. “We danced, yes.” Then she smirked, looking out towards the lighthouse in the bay. “Then he ate me out in the receiving room off the back corridor.”

Remadia purred with delight, wrapping her arm around Bonnie’s waist and hugging her tightly. “Nothing further?”

“Left me quivering on the floor. The beautiful bastard scarpered before I could beg him to fuck me.”

“Beg? I think the word you use is too strong, my dear.” She pulled her arm off of Bonnie’s waist and used it to secure Bonnie’s arm more tightly against her. “You were far too much woman for him to handle. I, on the other hand, could show you what begging for a good fuck is really like,” she said, as casually as one would contemplate the weather, “though I would never dream to be so rude as to just abandon you on the floor.”

Bonnie choked, sputtering as her heart ground to a halt in her chest, her entire body tensing. She could feel lustful warmth resurging back into her loins, but her brain was frozen in panic. When Remadia spoke, her words were too loud, startling Bonnie.

“You know what I absolutely adore about you, dear Bonnie? How honest you are. Sometimes you talk yourself in circles, but your face and your body always tell the truth.”

Bonnie remained still, unable to move. Remadia let go of her grip on Bonnie’s arm and moved her hands instead to and around Bonnie’s waist, turning her body in to Bonnie’s. She hoisted one leg dramatically in the air, twisting herself further so that she could straddle Bonnie’s lap with it, supporting herself almost entirely against Bonnie’s sturdy frame. Then, once that was settled and her leg was locked firmly around Bonnie, heel digging into the cleft of Bonnie’s butt, she used it as leverage to awkwardly lift her other leg so that it could be wrapped around Bonnie’s waist as well. Her face never left Bonnie’s chest, and Remadia had situated herself in such a way - arms slung under Bonnie’s bust and around her waist, with her hips cocked upward against Bonnie’s stomach - as to allow her face to now be fully buried in the fabric of Bonnie’s bosom. Bonnie hadn’t budged an inch throughout the endeavor, and Remadia began to moan, her head lolling from side to side.

“Remadia, are you okay?” Bonnie asked, concerned.

Remadia rolled her head against the top of one breast, so that she was peering up at her through a heavily squinting eye. “I’m drunk and the world has begun to spin, and all I want,” she was interrupted by a yawn, “is to use these big, lovely tits of yours as my pillows so that I may regain my composure and fuck you silly.” She returned her face to the crevice she had burrowed into the fabric of Bonnie’s bosom, lifting her arms to squeeze Bonnie’s breasts around her ears.

Bonnie felt her face heat up for what felt like the hundredth time that night, but felt the need to take control of the situation. “Let’s get you to bed, then.” Bonnie could hear Remadia’s muffled response of “yes, let me bed you,” and sighed.

Bonnie had had enough.

“All right, you foul fuckin’ mess, let’s go.” Bonnie wrapped her arms underneath Remadia’s rump, lifting her so that Bonnie could stand up. Remadia squealed, briefly lifting her face from Bonnie’s cleavage to speak, eyes and smile excited as she kicked her feet gleefully against Bonnie’s butt.

“I feel like a child in your arms, this is wonderful!” and then her face was buried away again. Bonnie could barely make out her continuation of, “Why haven’t I had you do this before?” as she walked back to the door.

“Because, you embarrassment of a woman, I’ve been your personal bodyguard, and we have had an otherwise professional relationship.”

“But I don’t want that now. I was a fool!”

“Was? Are.”

“Bonnie,” she whined, drawing it out as long and as pathetically as she could and flailing her heels ineffectually at Bonnie’s hips.

Ignoring her, Bonnie made her way through the hall, paying no attention to the curious looks of the people cleaning up and making her way towards the corridor that would lead to Remadia’s quarters.

As she walked through the corridor doors, Remadia squeezed Bonnie, both hands slapping her back in urgency. “Wait!” she cried out from Bonnie’s chest, with a tone of panic so intense that it stopped Bonnie in her tracks.

“What is it? What’s the matter?”

Remadia loosened up. “Privy. Hurry.”

“You wretch.” Bonnie picked up the pace. “Are you going to hurl all over me or do you have to piss?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Bonnie hurried to the privy as quickly as possible, being careful not to jostle Remadia more than necessary. She threw open the door and - gently - deposited Remadia on the burnished wood of the privy, quickly turning around and leaving her to do her business, despite Remadia’s mournful whine of, “Don’t abandon me.”

-She Doesn’t Abandon Her-

“You do know that if you don’t cuddle with me, I’m going to follow you to your room.” Remadia sat, now naked, on her bed, patting the space next to her. Somewhere between the privy and her quarters she had managed to regain a modicum of composure, though she had a tendency to overbalance from one side to the other as she attempted to maintain her posture.

Bonnie, still fully dressed, groaned, frustrated and refusing to look at her. “You petulant brat.”

“I told you my plan on the balcony, Bonnie. You have yet to tell me no.”

“We’re not,” Bonnie spluttered, “I am- you,” too many words tried to make their way out of her mouth at once. “You’re drunk.”

“Is that your only complaint?”

“Well-” Bonnie hesitated.

“Speak frankly, if you’re looking for permission.”

“I wasn’t, but-”

“Then we can cuddle ever-so-chastely tonight, and tomorrow I can fuck you in the way your beautiful companion was too cowardly to.”

“Remadia, I keep saying this: I am your bodyguard,” Bonnie shouted. She could see Remadia out of the corner of her eye. Remadia clapped her hands over her mouth, and Bonnie turned, finally looking to meet her eyes. She hoped that Remadia finally understood the predicament Bonnie was in.

Bonnie was taken aback by the fawning adoration in her eyes, like how a child looks at a newborn puppy.

“Oh Bonnie, is that truly it? Truly?” she clapped excitedly, like a child receiving a gift. “Oh how I adore you! It’s no wonder the twins are so infatuated with you, you’re so earnest.”

“I- what? You know?”

Remadia callously waved away Bonnie’s shock. “Oh, of course I know, dear, the twins tell me absolutely everything, and it is the absolute sweetest thing. They’ve never been so enamoured with a person before, let alone the same person. Their infatuation with you is so thorough as to be infectious!”

Bonnie was at a loss for words, her mouth stuttering out, “propriety!”

Remadia gave Bonnie a withering glare. “Bonnie, propriety has its place, and that is with those who make it their life. If I were a woman concerned with propriety, I would have married some petulant merchant skunk and left my own desires to fall to the wayside instead of becoming one of the most powerful women in the country.” Remadia stood up, suddenly full of fire, marching up to Bonnie. “If I were a woman concerned only with propriety, I might have married the Duke of Braugh instead of throwing his letters into the cesspit where they belonged, and he may never have tried to wage his foolish war on me, and he might have been sitting here, in my manor, this very night, instead of cowering in his shit-caked castle in the muddy lowlands with half his land given to me in surrender. And you,” her finger delivering a vicious tap to Bonnie’s sternum, “would never have become the oh-so infamous Goliath of Braugh, and I would have never shown up in your village after hearing of your exploits, and I would never have asked you to serve as my bodyguard, and claimed you as my Goliath, the Goliath of Chapel Bay. My Bonnie. Do not speak to me of propriety!” Her voice had become unexpectedly shrill.

Bonnie, overcome with emotions too conflicted and struggling against each other that she couldn’t put words to how she felt, wrapped her arms around Remadia tightly in a hug. She understood Remadia’s passion, but Remadia couldn’t understand what she’d lost, especially as she was now, and she didn’t want to spoil it with any of the grim thoughts that came to mind. Remadia’s fists were balled, arms tight to her sides, before reluctantly wrapping themselves around Bonnie and returning the hug. Bonnie rested her chin on Remadia’s head.

“Perhaps I’ve been going the wrong way about it, because it’s never something that I’ve consciously given thought to.”

“What’s that?”

“My overtures towards you, maybe I’ve been too unthinking with them, drink and lust clouding my mind, instead of me trying to be as honest as you are with me.”

“How do you mean, Remadia?”

Bonnie could feel Remadia swallow against her before she spoke, her voice soft and croaking, worn from the night and the sudden rush of emotions. “What I’ve been trying to say with so many words is, Bonnie, that I’m very lonely, and I’m very tired, and the year you’ve been here has frankly been the most wonderful - no, memorable part of my life. I went to war against so-called propriety, my Bonnie, and I got you in return: something, someone, so much more valuable than any land or titles given to me by that reprehensible waste of human existence.  I want you to spend this night with me because I want to feel comfortable in someone else’s presence, truly comfortable with someone for the first time in my entire life”

Bonnie’s hummed reassuredly, tightening her arms around Remadia as she rubbed her cheek against the top of her head. She pressed her lips and began to rock softly from side to side. Moments passed and she felt a single, silent sob rack Remadia’s body. She slowly loosened her grip, rubbing her fingers gently into Remadia’s back as she allowed herself be pulled away. Remadia attempted to maintain her facade of composure in vain as her arms fell limply to her sides, her reddened eyes locked to Bonnie’s chin to avoid looking at the soft smile on her lips. Bonnie’s hands still rested on Remadia’s shoulders as they stood there in a comfortable silence. Bonnie sighed and leaned down so Remadia was forced to look her in the eyes, giving a cheeky grin as Remadia gave a single, defiant sniffle.

“Okay, you needy bitch, get this girdle off me. I’ll hold your wee, simpering form in my big strong arms and whisper sweet-nothings in your ear.”

Remadia’s facade broke, a wide grin splitting her face as she slapped Bonnie’s arm. “Oh, why thank you, my big, strong knight.” She giggled gently, her hands wiping the sudden tears of relief that had welled in her eyes. “Whatever would I do without you?”

Their laughter continued, growing, as Remadia moved behind Bonnie and began to untie the lacing of her girdle. Bonnie relaxed as the pressure of the restrictive garment was relieved, her skin prickling where the girdle had been. The lacings holding up the dress came off next, and Bonnie felt freed as she let the dress fall from her shoulders to her waist, and she heard a soft gasp from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and caught Remadia’s eye, smiled cheekily, then brought her arms above her head and flexed, causing the muscles of her back to bulge.

Bonnie had never seen Remadia blush before.

Bonnie pulled the dress off her waist and down her body, slowly, deliberately; milking the attention she was being given for all it was worth as she showed off her powerful build for Remadia. She pulled the dress tight so that it bit into her thick, muscular ass, slowly dragging it down so more and more flesh muffined out over the top of the fabric before it all popped out, flexing each cheek and dancing her hips from side to side as she pulled the dress down her corded thighs; her thick calves. She turned to face Remadia with a confident grin, hoping that she had enjoyed the show.

Remadia looked like a cat who had just discovered a bowl of rich cream.

“Shall we retire?” Bonnie gestured towards the bed, raising an eyebrow as suavely as she could muster.

“Oh,” Remadia purred, “my dear, I have been waiting for you to ask me that all night.”

Remadia didn’t move, however, and Bonnie was confused. Guessing that Remadia was waiting for her to go first, Bonnie crawled onto the bed, and was rewarded with an appreciative hum from Remadia. As she had with the dress, she crawled across the bed deliberately, stretching out her legs and arms and moving so that her muscles rippled and bulged with the shifting of her weight, prowling across the mattress. She reached the pillows, finishing her show for Remadia with a wink, and gracelessly flopped onto the bed.

“All right, my lady. Time for bed.” Bonnie turned to find Remadia staring at her, eyes barely focused and doing nothing to hide the lustful delight on her face as she bit excitedly at her lower lip.

Bonnie’s words snapped Remadia out of her thoughts. “Oh, right. Bed.” Remadia crawled hastily onto the bed, before she stopped. “I forgot the candles,” she muttered, turning around and busying herself snuffing out the lights around the room. Bonnie had seen Remadia in various states of undress, but had never really appreciated Remadia’s body until now.

She paid particular attention to how Remadia’s pear-shaped backside, broad and dimpled, jiggled with every step she took, rocking from side to side with the movement of her hips. Bonnie watched as the orange light of the candles played against Remadia’s pale skin, following the curve of her body up her arm to her delicate fingers holding the snuffer.

The last candle went out, and Remadia made her way back onto the bed, where Bonnie was waiting for her eagerly on her side, waiting to play the big spoon. She felt the shifting of the mattress as Remadia moved, but instead of crawling inside Bonnie’s embrace she pushed Bonnie over onto her back, and sprawled herself on top of Bonnie, her face resting on the soft skin of Bonnie’s sternum.

“Is this uncomfortable for you, dear Bonnie?” Remadia whispered, laying a small kiss against the inside of Bonnie’s breast. “Gods, you are so warm.”

“It’ll do, seeing as I doubt I have a say in the matter.”

“Good girl,” she said, shifting her head and kissing the inside of Bonnie’s other breast.

Bonnie had to restrain a giggle as she felt Remadia’s arms come up along her sides and around each breast, hugging them together to smother her head. “You like those, don’t you.” Remadia squeezed her arms tight several times in succession, jiggling Bonnie’s breasts so they slapped against her head, before letting them fall to the side.

“They’re quite nice, yes,” she mumbled. Bonnie brought an arm up to gently stroke Remadia’s head. “That’s quite nice, too.”

“Mm,” Bonnie hummed, taking long, slow breaths, her hand stroking Remadia’s hair and down her back, rubbing small circles with strong fingers. Remadia let out pleased hums when Bonnie rubbed in the right places. She felt Remadia beginning to relax, her head rising and falling on Bonnie’s broad chest. Soon Remadia’s body was slack with sleep.

Bonnie stared into the darkness, mind still whirling from the night’s events.

To trouble, she thought, as sleep began to take her.

-To Trouble! This Time, with Feeling-

Bonnie awoke to the sounds of drawers being shuffled through.

When she opened her eyes, she was lying on her side, and partially under the covers. Beyond the bed, she could see Remadia busying herself with something in front of the mirror, clad only in a garterbelt and stockings, eliciting a small, “oh!” of appreciation from Bonnie. She watched Remadia’s shapely behind as she bent over to pull something out of a basket next to her. Remadia, hearing Bonnie, snapped upright, excited.

“Bonnie, you’re awake. Are you ready, my dear?” she asked, slapping something against her palm. It took Bonnie a moment, and sitting upright, to recognize that Remadia was holding a riding crop. “I have already cleared my morning plans, so we have some time to ourselves.”

“O-oh,” Bonnie stuttered, feeling a thoroughly surprising, but not unwelcome, thrum of lust roll through her body. Her eyes wandered from the riding crop to her narrow shoulders, across creamy skin to the pale areolae of her gently-sloped breasts, and down Remadia’s stomach, soft handles hugged tightly by the black lace of the garter belt, stretched over broad hips. The straps that held Remadia’s stockings up framed her coppery bush. “I wasn’t, uh, expecting this to happen so quickly.”

“I remember being quite forthright with my intentions, dear.” Remadia looked at the riding crop in her hands. “Is it the crop? Is that too much?”

“Oh, uh, no. I don’t think so. You’re just, um,” Bonnie struggled to find the words to the feelings of arousal and intimidation she was experiencing. She felt like the emotions should be at odds with one another, but instead they fed into one another as she stared at Remadia in her scant lingerie. “You’re more, well, dressed up for this than I guess I’d expected?”

The clear ring of Remadia’s affectionate laughter reddened Bonnie’s ears in embarassment. “Oh, Bonnie. Dear Bonnie. I adore every innocent fiber of your pure and earnest soul.”

She spoke with such fondness Bonnie couldn’t bear to look at her. She felt like a child being condescended as she contemplated the edges of the woven rug behind Remadia’s feet. “I don’t see what’s so innocent about fucking,” she muttered, her mouth pursing into a pout.

“Oh, my love, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, please!” She took a few soft steps towards the bed. “I just enjoy the presentation of it all. The showmanship sets the scene, my dear. Forgive me, my love, and come sit closer for a moment?”

Bonnie sighed apologetically as she released the petulant anger she’d been holding, her shoulders relaxing as she nodded in assent and scooched herself along the bed so that she was sitting on the edge closest to Remadia. She couldn’t bring herself to actually look at her, because now she was embarrassed over how she reacted. She wanted to do this, she just was not used to this level of ceremony in the bedroom. Bonnie was used to more carnal, base affairs; or, preferably, gentle, loving intimacy. Never something so directed.

Remadia strolled towards Bonnie with hard, deliberate steps, swinging her hips with every movement, and snapped the riding crop up under Bonnie’s chin. With gentle pressure, Bonnie let her chin be lifted ever-so slightly and turned so that her eyes were level with Remadia’s. “Am I forgiven, my Bonnie?”

The look she was being given sent a trail of liquid fire through her, melting her insides, pooling in her loins. Her mouth was dry, but she managed to voice a soft, “yes, of course.”

“Then, tell me, love, is this all right?”

Bonnie nodded, slack-jawed.

Remadia leaned forward, lips barely touching the shell of Bonnie’s ear. “Tell me, my dear, what it is that you don’t want me to do,” she whispered.

Bonnie struggled to collect her thoughts, her mind forgetting its previous embarrassment and now racing with lust. Her hands were balled in her lap, and with Remadia’s shoulder just in front of her face, she was having a hard time resisting the urge to kiss the base of Remadia’s neck. “I, uh, can’t seem to think of anything that I’d say no to at the moment.”

Remadia laid a kiss in front of her ear. “Then I’ll be very gentle with you, my dear,” she murmured against Bonnie’s skin, laying a soft trail with her lips towards Bonnie’s mouth before capturing it in a passionate kiss. When she pulled away, Bonnie’s skin was flushed and Bonnie was left with a lazy grin. “I know what I like, but I don’t know what you like, beyond what the twins have told me. Do you like tender?”

Bonnie could feel the tip of the riding crop sliding down her neck. She swallowed dryly. “I do. Definitely.” The wide leather piece tickled at her throat before sliding between her breasts, causing her skin to prickle with gooseflesh and her pectoral muscles to spasm. The piece trailed across the heavy curve of one breast, and lingered at the sensitive ring of her areola before giving a sudden, stinging flick across her perked nipple. Bonnie gasped.

“How about that, my dear?” Remadia said as she kissed Bonnie’s lower lip, taking it between her lips and gently sucking on it. Bonnie moaned as the crop continued to gently play with her nipple. Remadia pulled away, pulling Bonnie’s lip as far as it could go before it slipped from between her lips with a wet pop!

“I,” Bonnie stumbled, “wow.”

“Talk to me, my dear, tell me what you’re thinking.” As Remadia spoke, the riding crop had resumed its trail south, tickling at Bonnie’s stomach, and Remadia licked her lips as she watched Bonnie’s powerful gut muscles twitch and dance under the crop. Then, Bonnie’s muscles still tense, the crop teased down lower, slipping behind where Bonnie’s balled fists had remained in her lap, not knowing where to go.

Bonnie could feel the crop playing at her bush, and then with a gentle push from Remadia, she felt the broad, flat leather of the bit rub slickly down her mound, the rod of the crop cool and hard against her clit. She hissed between clenched teeth, shuddering as she unclenched her hands to grip her thighs. “Sheesh,” she paused to take a breath, “wow, you really, uh-” Bonnie was at a loss for words.

“I what, darling?”

“You put much more showmanship into this than the twins do,” Bonnie said. “Artemis and Apollo are much more about throwing themselves at me and figuring it out from there.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, dear. Those two are very,” she took a moment, toying with the crop against Bonnie’s crotch, making Bonnie shudder against it, before finishing her statement, “impatient.” Remadia gripped Bonnie’s chin firmly before kissing her again. “Now, my dear, I need you to turn over onto your knees and present your lovely fat ass to me.” She withdrew the now-slick crop from the crevice of Bonnie’s thighs.

“Yes, my lady,” Bonnie said as she began to turn, moving around so she was on all fours.

“I’m so glad you’re getting into this, my dear Bonnie, but I must ask, how do you feel about being lashed with my crop?” Bonnie could hear the crack of the crop against Remadia’s hand.

“What? Why?” Bonnie looked behind her to find Remadia with a look of disappointment on her face.

“I ask because, although I adore your sense of propriety, I thought I was quite clear last night with how I want you to address me when we’re not bound by formalities,” she said, before she began to play at Bonnie’s exposed sex with the crop.

Bonnie understood that it was intended as some sort of punishment. “Oh.” She let out a moan as the leather danced between her sensitive folds, “I guess give it a try and I will, uh, let you know, Remadia.”

Crack! Bonnie gasped as her body rocked forward involuntarily away from the blow, happening so much more quickly than she had been expecting. Tingling waves of pain and pleasure blossomed from where the rod had connected at the bottom of her raised rump. “Are you alright, dear?” She heard from behind her. She was still reeling from the blow. It stung, and the lingering pain was beginning to overtake any pleasure she might have felt from it. It stung in a way that hurt differently from any blow she’d ever weathered. It was humiliating.

“Can we, um, maybe not with the rod?” she said, sheepishly. She tried to control the hurt in her voice, and she didn’t know why there was suddenly tears in her eyes. Immediately, the riding crop was gone, and there was movement on the bed as Remadia climbed onto it and around to Bonnie’s side, pressing her full body against her in a hug as she shushed and apologized to Bonnie. She leaned down to Bonnie’s face, gently kissing her.

“I’m so sorry, my dear, it’s all right. It’s all right.” Soft, gentle kisses from Remadia between each word. “We are here for pleasure, our pleasure.” More soft kisses as Remadia stroked her hair and hugged Bonnie’s head to her. Remadia tipped Bonnie’s head back, and peppered her mouth with apologetic pecks, her lips moving to kiss the small tears of shame that had beaded on Bonnie’s eyelashes. She mouthed her way down Bonnie’s cheek until she found her lips again, moving against them and feeding into more passionate, longer, slow kisses as their mouths opened against each other, her tongue playing softly with Bonnie’s.

The stinging of the welt on her backside faded quickly from Bonnie’s mind as she lost herself in the kiss, one hand moving to cup the back of Remadia’s head, the other coming up along her side to cup Remadia’s hip, large fingers digging into the ample flesh of her backside. Bonnie massaged Remadia’s butt, earning a series of small moans from Remadia as she leaned into the kiss.

After a moment, Remadia broke the kiss, panting. “Do you mind, my dear, if I spank at your ass with only my hands? Not as punishment, but because I wish to play with it.”

“That’s,” Bonnie paused, considering it. “That’s fine. I don’t know why I started crying like that, I’m sorry.”

Remadia put a finger against Bonnie’s lips. “Shush, now, dear, you need not apologize. Sometimes you do not enjoy a thing because it comes with emotional baggage, and sometimes you do not enjoy a thing simply because you do not find the thing enjoyable.” She laid a gentle kiss to Bonnie’s forehead. “You do not need to explain yourself, either, just tell me when I’ve crossed the line.”

Bonnie was grateful for that. She didn’t know how to explain the pain to Remadia, because she herself wasn’t sure why it had affected her so much.

“Now, if you would lie down so that I might play with your butt, my dear.”

“Oh, right.” Bonnie said, stretching herself out and propping her head up on her arms.

Remadia moved herself so that she knelt at Bonnie’s hip. “You have such a lovely, powerful ass, my dear,” she purred, taking a cheek under each hand and squeezing hard before massaging them firmly. “I wish you could see it the way I do, Bonnie. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

Her heart swelling in her chest, Bonnie moaned as Remadia dug into her flesh, working it with gentle force, pushing and pulling, kneading her meaty ass with practiced care. Bonnie felt like so much dough beneath Remadia’s skilled fingertips. She imagined Remadia could feel the intense heat radiating from between her thighs, and as she relaxed even further into Remadia’s ministrations, she imagined those fingers sliding between her cheeks to explore the slippery heat building there.

“My dear, I’m going to smack your ass now so that I can watch it ripple and redden. Is that okay?”

Bonnie nodded, brought back from her fantasies, and hummed her assent as she braced herself.

Smack! Bonnie felt her butt move under the blow, but it didn’t sting like the riding crop had; Remadia’s hand was much softer and lacked the whip of the crop’s flexible rod. Without the weight of punishment, her mind didn’t lock itself up lingering on the blow. She could feel Remadia hesitate beside her, waiting for something.

“Are you alright, love? May I strike again?”

Bonnie hummed her assent again, more confident than before, anticipating and even looking forward to the spank as Remadia’s hand smacked down. Remadia hesitated again, and Bonnie just nodded, arching her back and lifting her butt to meet the next blow. This is almost fun, Bonnie thought, as another spank rang out, this time on the inside of her cheek. Then another, and another, and then another. Each smack began to sting more and more, until after one blow Bonnie shifted her hips to avoid it. Immediately, Remadia began to massage her reddening, swollen skin, and Bonnie moaned. Her moans grew louder as Remadia poured some sort of oil on her sore skin, her busy fingers continuing their ministrations as Remadia whispered loving sweet-nothings to her.

“You are so beautiful, Bonnie; you’re so big and so beautiful,” Remadia murmured. Her praise comforted Bonnie, warmth flooding her chest. “I adore you so much, and you’re doing so well.” Remadia laid a kiss on Bonnie’s butt, and then another, her fingers sliding from the cheeks of Bonnie’s ass and down in between them, pushing and rubbing and kneading. “Thank you,” she murmured against Bonnie’s skin. Then her fingers, well-oiled, slid between Bonnie’s thighs, and toyed with the damp hair they found there, fingertips lightly tickling Bonnie’s folds.

Bonnie had a moment to realize what Remadia was doing before Remadia slipped her fingers inside her, forcing Bonnie to cry out, “Remy!” as pleasure flowed through her body.

“Yes, my dear, finally!” Remadia purred, working her fingers inside Bonnie.

Bonnie gasped and struggled to regain her senses as every thrust of Remadia’s fingers made her squeak and moan. “Please, Remy. Please,” she whimpered. Begged. “Please fuck me.” Then she was empty and Remadia was pulling on her hips and she mindlessly raised herself back onto her knees, obeying her silent commands, and she could feel Remadia moving around behind her. She moaned at the loss of Remadia’s fingers inside her, only to cry out as they were replaced by Remadia’s eager tongue, dancing across her folds with practiced care before diving inside her with long, passionate strokes. Bonnie began to lose focus, her world becoming Remadia lovingly devouring her cunt, her mouth hanging open mindlessly as Remadia began to work Bonnie’s clitoris with her fingers. She squeezed her eyes shut as every muscle in her abdomen twitched in sporadic spasms, before everything tightened at once as she came screaming against Remadia’s face. Remadia didn’t pull away from Bonnie’s orgasm, prolonging it with her expert tongue and gentle fingers. It pulsed through her in waves, and every time Bonnie thought she was done, another pulse would roll through her core, guided by Remadia. A sob escaped her mouth and her arms gave out as yet another wave of soul-shattering pleasure coursed through her, tears welling in her eyes; her mind going blank as Remadia pushed her over the edge and so much further beyond, eyes rolling back into her head as she lost herself, only knowing overwhelming pleasure.

When she was allowed to finally rest, she sobbed in relief as her brain began to reassemble thoughts, piecemeal, and she was able to make sense of her surroundings again. Her upper body was being cradled in Remadia’s lap and sweet words were being whispered into her ear. She could feel Remadia’s fingers tracing gentle circles across the soft muscle above her breast; a mindless, soothing motion.

“You did such a wonderful job, my dear. Thank you.” Gentle kisses were placed along the side of her face. Bonnie leaned into them, turning her head so her lips met Remadia’s, and let their tongues twist together in a languid dance. Remadia pulled back. “You’re so good. You’re wonderful.”

Bonnie grinned, her eyes struggling to focus on Remadia’s, her breathing still shaky. “So, Remy.” Remadia beamed at her, and Bonnie could see a tear well in Remadia’s eye. “How can I return the favor?”

Remadia wiped the tear away with her knuckle. “Oh, well, I can think of some ways, but I think the quickest would be for me to mount your face.”

Bonnie’s brow furrowed in confusion, not expecting such a blunt answer after being given such a thorough fucking. She couldn’t stop herself from pouting. “It doesn’t have to be the quickest, you know.”

“Oh, but dear,” Remadia laughed, “your enthusiasm is wonderful. I do, however, have to return to my duties as the Countess of Chapel Bay at some point today.”

“Oh,” Bonnie huffed, “I guess we can do that. But why ride my face? Why not let me use these big meaty mitts on you?” She cocked an eyebrow, wiggling the fingers of one hand. “I’ve got more in two fingers than most men do in a whole cock.”

Remadia’s laugh was hearty and pure. “My dear, I do so love your way with words.” She caressed Bonnie’s cheek, still smiling. “You might be able to devastate me with those so-called meaty mitts of yours, but me riding your face offers me much more,” she leaned in to whisper in Bonnie’s ear, “control.”

The word sent tingles of warmth fluttering through her loins again. “You do like control, don’t you, Remy?”

“I do so like control.” Remadia began shifting herself out from underneath Bonnie’s shoulders. “Now, on your back and face up, love. Time is of the essence.”

Bonnie complied, rolling over, face up and expectant. Remadia was on her knees above her, and Bonnie was staring up at Remadia’s coppery bush and big, soft thighs that led to the curves of Remadia’s fat ass.

Remadia balanced herself with one hand against Bonnie’s heavy breast, her rough grip making Bonnie gasp, as she spread the lips of her cunt above Bonnie’s eager face. “Bonnie, tongue out and working efficiently. One hand dug firmly into my ass, the other toying with my tit. Your nose might be sore, but I won’t break it, I’m sure.” She looked down between her legs at Bonnie, waiting.

Bonnie felt her heart race as she moved her hands into their prescribed positions. Remadia’s nipple hardened against her palm, the breast weighty and soft against her rough skin. I wonder, Bonnie thought as she gazed at Remadia’s other breast as it hung, heavy and free, pinching the tissue around the areola with her thumb and forefinger and stretching out her pinky and ring finger towards the other areola, capturing it between the first knuckles of her fingers. Nice, she thought, bringing the two breasts together.

Remadia slapped her hand. “I love your proactive attitude, but you can play later.”

Bonnie readjusted her hand so that she firmly gripped only the one breast.

“Ready?”

Bonnie stuck her tongue out so that it laid broad and flat against her chin, upper lip curled over her teeth. “Ready,” she struggled to say with her tongue out.

“Let us begin.”

Bonnie was not as ready as she had thought when her entire world became the soft, hot, damp dark of Remadia’s thighs. Remadia rode hard, driving the wet mouth of her opening against Bonnie’s tongue. Bonnie recovered by arching her tongue into it, firming it so that it drove itself inside Remadia as she ground against Bonnie’s face, and Remadia froze, hands gripping Bonnie’s breasts too hard as she took a second to readjust before bouncing against Bonnie’s stiffened tongue. Suddenly the world was bright as Remadia adjusted herself again, turning herself around so that Bonnie was looking up the front of Remadia’s body. They locked eyes.

“Tongue hard. Suck clit. Hand: thigh. Support me,” Remadia commanded, her gaze unfocused and her mouth open, breath quickened.

Bonnie didn’t bother attempting to reply - and wasn’t give time to - as Remadia picked up right where she had left off. Bonnie complied as best she could as Remadia fucked herself on Bonnie’s tongue. Remadia managed between thrusts to cross her feet beneath Bonnie’s head, and Bonnie lost the ability to breathe as her mouth and nose were sealed against Remadia’s loins. Bonnie, being proactive again, loosened her tongue and began to let it play inside and and against Remadia, licking eagerly at Remadia’s wet hole.

“Gods, Bonnie,” Remadia cried out, “your tongue - fuck!” she bit her lip as she continued to grind against Bonnie’s face. “I don’t think I’ll need your fingers, Bonnie.” She choked for a moment as Bonnie’s tongue dove deep and hard. “Fuck, Bonnie, why’s your tongue so big?” Remadia’s face was red, eyes crossed, and loud, erratic gasps escaping her slack mouth.

Bonnie kept trying to catch breaths through her nose, but Remadia locked her legs behind Bonnie’s head and sat back on her chest, her eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open in a silent cry as she curled herself around Bonnie. Slick juices filled and spilled out of Bonnie’s mouth, but she obediently kept working at Remadia, as Remadia had done for her. When she was allowed to pull her head away, she realized just how soaked she was, her hair matting and stuck to her face and the inside of Remadia’s thigh. The mattress beneath her was not spared, dampened by Remadia’s passionate flood. Shaking, Remadia unhooked her legs from behind Bonnie’s head and stretched them out as she laid backwards atop Bonnie, the joints of her knees cracking harshly in her ears. Her arms fell bonelessly to her sides, resting atop Bonnie’s breasts as she languished in the afterglow of her orgasm, panting heavily. She toyed limply with Bonnie’s nipples, weak fingers pulling at them and slapping at the breast, letting them bounce and jiggle in idle, giggling amusement. Bonnie tried to return the favor, taking Remadia’s breasts roughly in hand, pinching the areolae beneath the nipples and squeezing the whole breast tight. She could feel Remadia spasm against her in response, Remadia’s ass clenching and abdomen tightening as she drew her legs back in against Bonnie’s head. Bonnie was intrigued.

Remadia slapped Bonnie’s hand, hissing, “stop it,” startling Bonnie.

Bonnie let go.

“Thank you,” she said. “Sorry to snap, I get very sensitive post-coitus, and I’m a touch overstimulated, dear.”

Bonnie nodded though Remadia couldn’t see her, and gently massaged the tissue of the breast instead.

“Much better, love. Thank you.” After a moment of enjoying the massage, Remadia lifted Bonnie’s hands off her and had Bonnie readjust herself as she clambered gracelessly around her, so that Bonnie was on her side holding Remadia against her, and Remadia had her head buried into Bonnie’s sternum, sandwiched between her breasts.

Bonnie sighed, tolerating the uncomfortable heat as she started tracing circles against Remadia’s back.

Bonnie had no frame of reference for the time, but the sun seemed like it was getting very late in the morning. She craned her neck down to an uncomfortable degree to put her lips against Remadia’s scalp. “Remy,” she mumbled, kissing her head and pulling back before she strained her neck, “as much as I love cuddling with you, you did say time was of the essence.”

Remadia - who had started drifting in and out of sleep in Bonnie’s warm embrace- stilled, fists balling themselves up against Bonnie’s side. “Damn it,” she muttered, glaring up at Bonnie from between Bonnie’s tits.

Bonnie couldn’t help but to laugh at the sight, letting her go and rolling away. No longer in the moment, Bonnie became aware of the strong and distinct reek of sweat and sex. She stood, stretching her tall body out and groaning with every pop and crackle of her spine. “Let us get going, my lady,” Bonnie said, a cheeky smile on her face as she turned and bowed low, “your Countessness is needed.”

Remadia chucked a pillow at Bonnie’s head. Bonnie laughed as she caught it, throwing it back at Remadia, guffawing as the pillow caught Remadia across the face, knocking her over and making her cry out in surprise.

“Fine!” Remadia laughed, pulling the pillow off her face and making a noise of mock disgust. “I’ll bathe and let my couturiers make me presentable to the world.” She rolled off the bed, turning to consider the dark, damp spots across the mattress left over from their lovemaking. “I’ll have to have this cleaned thoroughly, as well.”

“Indeed,” Bonnie said.

They stood there. A minute passed and Bonnie shuffled her feet, not sure what else to do. Remadia opened her mouth as if to speak, and then closed it. Bonnie curled the toes of one foot, cracking the joints.

“Bonnie, I-” Remadia started.

“Remy, that was amazing.” Bonnie interrupted. “That was incredible. I, uh,” Bonnie was reaching for words to say, “well, that is, I’d like to maybe-?”

Remadia smiled. “Oh, absolutely, Bonnie.” Remadia moved around the bed, closing the distance between her and Bonnie. She reached up and caressed Bonnie’s cheek. “Did you honestly think after all that, I didn’t intend for this to be a regular occurrence?”

Bonnie blushed, embarrassed. “I hadn’t been sure what to to think.”

“Bonnie, I told you I wasn’t going to just abandon you on the floor - the floor being metaphorical in this case,” Remadia stroked Bonnie’s lip with her thumb, “and, anyway, it’s not like I could piss off and away from you, anyway. You are my bodyguard, afterall.”

Bonnie beamed, and Remadia beamed back. “Oh, yeah. I guess I am that, yes.” Bonnie leaned down to Remadia, and Remadia rose to meet her in a soft kiss.

“Okay, my dear, go on and see about cleaning yourself up,” Remadia said, pulling away and giving Bonnie a playful swat on the rear.

“Can’t I see about bathing with you instead?” Bonnie joked as she picked up her dress, still kicked to to the wayside in a careless pile from the night before.

“Please, Bonnie, it’s hard enough to keep my hands off your skin as it is. On! Away with you!” Remadia kept swatting Bonnie’s butt, pushing Bonnie towards the door as Bonnie was scrambling to slip her arms inside the sleeves of the dress.

Laughing, Bonnie managed to get her arms into the dress and over her bust, Remadia unrelenting in her jovial assault. Bonnie turned away from Remadia so that she could wrap the train of the dress around her waist, providing mild modesty down to mid-thigh.

“Bonnie,” Remadia groaned, “if the twins catch sight of you-”

“If they catch sight of me.”

“Take a moment to put the dress on at least somewhat properly, Bonnie. You look like a fool.”

Bonnie gasped in mock horror. “My lady, do you-?” She interrupted herself with another gasp. “Do you presume to lecture me on - dare I say it? - propriety?”

Remadia pursed her lips and made a sound somewhere between a shriek and a strangled roar as Bonnie laughed herself out of the room.

[incantavaxx]

So, in the spirit of share the love, let’s play a game! Rules: it doesn’t matter how much you have watched of each remake, if it’s everything or just one clip or even if you have to go and watch the trailer just to do this, let’s say something you love about EACH remake. (If I forgot one remake, scream at me in the comments and I’ll add it immediately!)

 Skam Italia: My baby. Obviously biased because it’s my culture, so I relate to it on a whole other level, but the friendships in this are so well done. So deep and natural, funny but in a spontaneous and not scripted looking way (the actors are best friends irl and it shows). The boysquad in particular stole my heart and soul and it is what made season 2 to me: I think I enjoyed OG Evak more than Nicotino and maybe I’ll enjoy other Evak more as well, but this boysquad right here will always own my ass. Their chemistry, the support, the mocking and the hugs, the physical affection, the depth of every single one of them. Gio is the best friend and magic wizard everyone deserves, but Elia and Luchino are just as amazing. “Patatine e marmellata”, the clip where Martino and Nicco wake up to the boysquad singing Buon viaggio while cleaning, the same boysquad that slept on the floor for them, well this clip right here is my favorite out of all the Skam Universe. It’s just so pure and real. “Share the love.”

Honorable mentions to: Mamma “finally a good parent” Rametta, Filippo “water only if my room is on fire” Sava, Chicco “savior of gays and god of tutorials” Rodi, Edoardo “I look like a badass but I bake cookies for my crush” Incanti.

Also: The bike scene: Martino taking off the mask while laughing happily with Nicco in front of San Pietro, the most important chatolic church in the world. It really doesn’t get more powerful than that. Which brings me to my last point. The setting, Rome. The eternal city. Only remake to have the Colosseum casually chilling in the background.

Druck: They have Matteo. Do I need to say more? I don’t even know what it is about him, it’s just this unique vibe he has, I loved him from the start and I’m loving his season so far –also I love that his Even (David, Beany Boy, GerEven, wherever you might call him) is so different as well and I hope the character is going to be trans just like the actor. And the fact that there is this confusion about Matteo possibly being Even because of all the little changes (the fricking ciguarette, the Sarah storyline...)? We absolutely don’t know what to expect from this season and I’m here for it. Also, that scene in season 2 where Alexander has a panick attack? That was not only my favorite scene from Druck, but one of my favorite scenes from the Skam universe as a whole, OG included. It was so well acted and so so SO important, the human, hurt side of the William’s character is usually just “told”, but here it was “showed”, raw and real, and it was powerful (and I cried a lot). Mia was there for him and the fact that they showed that even a cool, badass, male character can have panic attacks is, again, so important.

Kiki (Vilde) had an amazing development and let’s not forget that their female Chris has blue hair and she’s simply gorgeous.   

 Skam Austin: The fact that they kept us all guessing in season one because we didn’t know WHO was the Isak characters was amazing and I’m so happy that it turned out to be Shay, she’s an absolute queen and I’m so excited to see the first female Isak’s season, she’s gonna crush it, I know it. And I can’t wait to meet her Even, I also love the fact that we don’t know yet if it’s gonna be a new character or maybe Megan (Eva) herself, that would make them the only remake to have Eva/Isak canon basically and wow. But to be honest I don’t actually care, like if it’s Megan I’m here for it, if it’s a new girl, I’m here for it too, I just want to see Shay rocks her season. 

And their Chris is adorable btw -- > *about eating broccoli* “It’s like eating a tiny three”.

 Skam France: They are killing it with this season, Lucas (Isak) is a little savage and I pay this remake my respects for changing the first Evak pool kiss in a RAIN kiss, like, wow, they did that. And the buttcheeks on the mural, the kiss covered in paint, Skam France is feeding us well. Manon and Lucas have one if not the best Noora/Isak friendship, the scene where they both cry on the couch, without talking, is one of my favorite, just like the one where Lucas plays the piano (chills). And this is actually a clip that came out today but I HAVE to mention it: Imane (Sana) talking down the teacher from deleting the mural because all the colors represent all their differences and also skin colors, differences that can’t be covered in white, I loved it and I’m definitely excited for her season and all the changes they’ll make –since it’s not going to be the last season. Also I’m finding Emma (Eva) more adorable and funny in each clip (HER LAVA LAMP LMAO).

SkamNL: I only watched a few clips here and there even if I want to fix that when I’ll have more time, but this doesn’t stop me to have a crush on basically every single member of the girlsquad, like… they’re all beautiful and the Eva’s character looked very different from all the others Evas, I don’t know how to explain it, she’s just…cool. I haven’t heard about big changes in the plot but the vibe I got from what I’ve seen is still very original and different, it’s something on its own and I totally get why so many people love this one.

Also, I’m not sleeping on their Noorhelm: Liv, the Noora’s character, is SICK (in a good way) and Noah, the William, looks adorable and almost a new character, I’m definitely excited for their interactions this season, I think they’ll change quite a lot because Liv won’t take any bullshit from no one (and I love her for it).  

 SkamEspana: Okay I watched very little of this, but this remake is CRAZY and I’m here for it, Lucas (Isak) is already out of the closet and he has a fucking youtube channel, how great is that, and they’re going to have a CHRIS season which is an absolute first and it’s going to be about her sexuality too, if you haven’t seen the trailer where she’s in the pool go watch it because it’s one of my favorite trailer ever, I’m not even properly following this remake but DAMN, that was glorious and poetic cinema at its finest. This is the remake that changed the most out of all of them and I have no idea what to expect from it: I LOVE this. Also I remember when in one of the first episodes it seemed that the Vilde character was actually Noora, and then the bell suddenly rang, the Eva’s character opened the door and THERE SHE WAS, blonde hair, red lipstick, cute as hell, ‘hi I’m Noora’.  My favorite introduction of the Noora’s character among all the remakes.

 WTFock: I haven’t watched a single clip from this remake yet (because it was the last to come out and my social life is already overwhelmed enough as it is by all the Skam) but is this going to stop me from saying at least one good thing about this? NOPE, so here we go --- > This remake wins BEST NAME hands down, like, we have all Skam*country* and then it comes, WTFock LMAO Awesome, just awesome.

 And then, of course, last but not last…

SKAM OG: It created all of this.

[dalekofchaos]

My biggest problems with the Tim Burton Batman movies

Batman 1989 and Batman Returns are viewed as classics and helped restore Batman as a dark hero. And they are far better than the Schumacher movies.  Today, most people remember Schumacher as having ruined the legacy of the cinematic Batman, and with good reason. After all, he is the one that put nipples on the Batsuit, gave Batman a credit card, and showed us all the Batsmile. He took a tortured, haunted character with psychological issues and turned him into a real life cartoon. The absurdity of Schumacher’s films also retroactively made Tim Burton’s films better in the minds and memories of fans. Compared to the colorfulness and camp of Batman Forever and especially Batman & Robin, Burton’s films were suddenly remembered as having been dark and brooding affairs that treated the material seriously. But not really. Tim Burton is a legendary filmmaker, a visual genius whose work has changed Hollywood. He brings strange and offbeat but lovable characters to life within universes that look like something from our imagination. Edward Scissorhands and Big Fish alone are a treat for the eyes. Yet his two films set in Gotham City, 1989’s Batman and 1992’s Batman Returns, were not nearly as profound — or as good — as your recollection would have you believe. They’ve aged poorly, yes, but they were not all that good when they were released. It puzzles me that anyone finds any of these movies better than Batman Begins or The Dark Knight. These are my biggest issues with the Tim Burton Batman movies.

The villains are more focused than on Batman. I don’t like it that we know more about The Joker than we do about Batman. We are never supposed to get a definitive origin for The Joker. And we have less focus on Batman as a character, I mean he’s reduced to a side character in Batman Returns. We barely know ANYTHING about Keaton’s Bruce Wayne, let alone his Batman. Burton not understanding the character of Bruce Wayne/Batman is one thing, but he doesn’t even care about him. Perhaps the biggest issue with the films is that he is completely focused on the supporting characters. There are three origin stories in those two films — one in Batman, two in Batman Returns — and none of them tell the story of Bruce Wayne/Batman. All we learn about Bruce Wayne is that his parents were murdered through a flashback and a scene of Alexander Knox and Vicki Vale reading old newspaper articles. Who is Bruce Wayne? What role did his parents play in his life? When did he dedicate his life to fighting crime? How did he come up with the symbol of the bat? When and how did he construct the Batcave? Does he have any training?  We know virtually nothing about the titular character. Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins goes to great lengths to explain how Wayne got his hands on all of the gear and gadgets that he would use in his war on crime, but Burton never once takes the time to analyze how Bruce Wayne turned himself into the Caped Crusader.  I think the worst thing about these movies is Burton doesn't care about Batman as a character. There is no origin movie so we do not see why he chooses to become Batman, the only reason we get is "just something I have to do" no mention of training his entire life. We meet him as an adult Batman and all we know is he likes to play dead, he's rich and a bit crazy and he iis what the plot needs him to be. Every time Michael Keaton tells people “I’m Batman” I cringe, Keaton you were not Batman, you were Burton Murderman.

The Joker is an eccentric mobster, not The Joker. While I enjoyed Jack’s Joker, he just seems like a mildly crazy eccentric mobster. In my opinion The Joker should be a psychopathic killer clown who symbolizes the randomness of crime, who thinks life is the joke and death is the punchline, with Jack’s Joker we get the twisted sense of humor, we don’t get the randomness of a crime we get a crazed eccentric mob boss. And when I think about it, Jack Nicholson just did not play The Joker. He changes from scene to scene, with no defining characteristics. The only really clear thing about him is that he is pining after the same woman as Bruce Wayne AND Batman. Worst of all, we are given a definitive origin of his character, including a name, an explanation for why his skin is white and his hair is green. And in giving him these characteristics, we never get a fully-formed Joker. He always remains nothing more than a mentally-ill gangster, out for revenge. Sure, The Joker is the same villain whose identity is ever-evolving. But here, he doesn’t even seem to remember that he IS The Joker. And this is tragic, as he’s being portrayed by Jack Nicholson. Imagine if Nicholson had the chance to play a version of The Joker who made sense, and who matched the villain we know from the source material.

The Joker kills Thomas and Martha Wayne. I feel like this was solely done just so Burton can have the excuse for Batman to kill Joker and criminals in general. Even screen writer Sam Hamm came clean and said he did not have Joker kill Batman’s parents, it was Tim Burton’s idea. You know it’s stupid when your own screen writer throws an incompetent director under the bus. 

Bad fighting. Batman isn’t that great at fighting. There are very few fight scenes in either film. When we see Batman fighting, we see a slow, lumbering, cumbersome Batman that throws a punch or two and maybe a kick before running away. He also loses as many fights as he wins, getting pummeled by the Joker’s henchmen and having his batarang taken away by a small poodle. Several times, he defeats the bad guys not with skill or training, but through gimmicks or luck. 

Batman kills. Batman kills. I don’t think Batman should ever kill. In both of the movies he’s a mass murdering thug. He  kills Joker’s thugs in Ace Chemicals without remorse and practically blows them up. Knocking that one Joker thug against the cathedral bell pretty much killed him and while he was trying to capture The Joker, he pretty much killed him. Oh god it gets worse in Batman Returns. He incinerates one of Penguin’s henchmen with the Batmobile and straps a bomb to another. Batman killing is boring. Batman not killing is what makes him so compelling, if he kills criminals, there is no moral conflict,  if he kills criminals, there is no moral conflict, he is no better than the Punisher, Wolverine or any other dark edgy hero. Burton making Bruce a killer, making the conflict as simply as Batman wants to stop and kill The Joker because The Joker killed his parents does not do justice to their fascinating dynamic.

I do not like how The Penguin have clown henchmen and The Joker has just regular thugs for henchmen. Seems like it’s reversed.

As much as I love Burtonverse Batmobile, I do not understand HOW the armor functions properly in real life, nor do I understand the pole in Batman Returns fits in the Batmobile like really? HOW?????

Batman and Gordon's relationship. Jim Gordon is made into such a completely irrelevant character. They took one of the most important aspects of the Batman myth and made him into a bumbling, slapstickish cartoon police chief. If Burton had treated his source material with more respect, Gordon wouldn’t be such an irrelevant character. Commissioner Gordon is one of the first two characters in Batman, ever. He and Bruce Wayne appear on the very first page of Detective Comics #27 together. He has a major role in every great Batman comic and graphic novel of all time. Instead, he is made into an incompetent joke who you probably don’t even recall being in Burton’s Batman. He also has virtually no interaction with Commissioner Gordon. Historically, Gordon, the only honest cop in Gotham, and Batman have had a strong bond, formed and fortified through their shared goal of cleaning up the city and their experiences therein, but in Burton’s films, Gordon is just another hapless cop that Batman largely ignores and occasionally tolerates. And in the Schumacher films, Gordon is a bumbling stooge who needs Batman to clean up his mess.

The complete waste of Billy Dee Williams as Harvey Dent. Has no interaction with Batman and never works with him. He barely has a presence. This could've been fixed by making him Two-Face, but Harvey Dent needed to have a presence in Gotham before becoming Two-Face for his fall to mean anything

The Penguin isn't his own villain. He is a puppet for Max and that's just dumb, as enjoyable as Walken was, his character really should not have existed at all. Being born with deformities is fine, but what is overkill is being thrown down a sewer and being raised by Penguins. Burton took Oswald Cobblepot, an overweight, but well-dressed criminal mastermind with a large vocabulary, and turned him into a dirty circus sideshow, an “aquatic bird-boy.” His vision of the Penguin bleeds black and green, has flippers for hands, lives in the sewer, wears a filthy onesie, rides a giant rubber duck, and is obsessed with sex. He also wants to murder sleeping children, but not before blowing off their genitalia: “Male and female! Hell, the sexes are equal with their erogenous zones blown sky high!” That’s an actual line of dialogue. The Penguin should be a gentleman of crime and mockery of high society with an affinity of birds.  Duplicitous mob boss. A guy who EVERYBODY knows is dirty, but he’s smart enough to make sure that there’s just enough deniability for him to get away with it. And JUST enough too, ‘cause he likes rubbing it in Batman’s face that nothing sticks to him. He is a criminal mastermind who is so smart that Batman considers him to be equal or smarter to him. Cares nothing for money or wanting to fit in, all he cares for is a complex caper, wanting to wet his beak and to rub it in Batman’s face.

Catwoman's origin. After being pushed out of a (tiny) window from the top floor of a building, Selina Kyle plummets to the concrete…only to be brought back to life…by cats? And then she goes home in a zombie-like state, rips her clothes apart, shoves her stuffed animals down the sink, spray paints her dollhouse, and sews together her suit? This is important, but knowing how and why Batman came to be doesn’t matter? Catwoman is a sleek, deceptive cat burglar, but Tim Burton decided to take the name literally, turning her into a half-cat, half-woman that drinks milk, eats birds, has nine lives, and doesn’t steal anything. 

[lemonjoonah]

Under Fire - Pt 3

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Title: Under Fire Word Count: 6K Rating: M Genre: Gang AU, Drama Warnings: Violence Pairings : Hyung Line x Reader (Primarily Namjoon x Reader), very slight OT7 x Reader.    Pairings (in this chapter): Namjoon x Reader, Jin x Reader, Jimin x Reader, Hobi x Reader. 

Summary: As a child you lived among the most wealthy and powerful, after the death of your mother you were shipped off to stay with her sister. Even after finishing your education you continue to live apart from the elite, but a visit home creates an unexpected disaster. You are suddenly roped into a darker world, and who better to be your guide than the infamous gang known as BTS. 

Chapter 3 - Collateral Damage 

POV (Y/N)

Namjoon is followed in by two others, one who you vaguely remember from the manor, and another you have yet to meet. But, after hearing you shout Namjoon’s name in anger, they both make a u-turn heading back to the door.

“V, Jimin, you don’t have to leave,” pleads Namjoon.

“I think it would be better if we did Namjoon, this conversation sounds too arduous for my taste.” The member called V places an odd emphasis on Namjoon’s name. “Jin let us know when she is finished with him, I would like to introduce myself properly.

Jin nods looking very intently at my shoulder, probably uncomfortable by the fact that he has to stay by default.

You shake your head in disbelief, “How... how is this possible? I checked the database the day you introduced yourself. You have no record! Are you telling me that my father intentionally sent a lone gang member to my apartment, without so much as a warning?

Jin speaks up without even raising his head, “He actually sent the gang leader.” Namjoon glares at him, Jin continues to stitch the wound, ignoring Namjoon.  

“Why? Why would he send you? My father has more than enough money to hire a whole security team.”

“People are easily bought, loyalty is not. I was glad Park trusted me enough to protect you, to keep you hidden. I felt sorry for your situation.  After the attack I was worried to leave you alone. I tried to convey to Park what you revealed to me...”

You cut him off, “Oh god, I told you that I was lonely, I told you that I was scared, and then you ki...” Your hands went to you face and you groan unable to finish the sentence it’s so embarrassing. If the kiss had been based on attraction, like you originally hoped,  it would have been fine, but no,  you had unknowingly taken comfort in his pity.  Jin thinking that you can’t see him, looks over at Namjoon mouthing the words, what did you do?

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have made contact your father advised against it.”

“Did he?” You whisper, you can't decide if you are more upset about the kiss or your father’s determination to keep you in the dark. The room falls quiet. Jin takes this time to finish stitching the wound together. You close your eyes focusing on the pain.

“Your father and I... we were very close, I could tell that you meant the world to him.” Namjoon murmurs.

Your eyes flash open again to pierce him with your gaze as you scoff, “You just contradicted yourself. Either my father didn’t care about you and your line of work, or he didn’t trust me enough to handle the truth. I am beginning to think the latter.”  

“He wanted to keep you safe.” He defends, his voice rising with mine.

I sat up making the move to stand, Jin trying to hold me in place. “Bullshit! How did he think that this was going to end? Did he think that he was just going to pass on peacefully with no pending vendettas against him, did he think I wouldn’t find out? If he really cared about my safety he would have told me, he could have trained me. If I had been prepared he might not be dead right now,” You lash out with tears.

“(Y/N), I need you to calm down. RM maybe you should leave.” Jin urges.

Instead he comes closer and helps Jin lay you back down on the table. He looks you straight in the eye, “Seven against one are odds that even someone with training can’t beat. This was not your fault. He never want you to face any of this, he didn’t tell you so that you could live your life without fear.”

Your anger continues to grow, “Do you know why I hacked into the criminal documents at the police department?”

He shakes his head.

“I was constantly surrounded by anomalies, people who knew my name before I told them, people who didn’t seem to have a past, people who threw around their money that they earned doing “freelance work.” I went to the police to tell them that I felt like I was being followed, but to them I was just a paranoid and delusional girl. I did my own research. They all had records drug dealing, assault, ect. I would try to distance myself but then along would come someone else. I was inexplicably happy the day you arrived in my store. Your actions proved to me that I wasn’t crazy. There had to be some other driving force luring these people to me, something more than my family name, if someone else knew that I need protection. I was never safe, just uninformed and afraid.”

Namjoon doesn’t respond.

You look over at Jin who has finished stitching. He stammers realizing that he is staring, “How does it feel? I have to disinfect it one last time. Brace yourself, it’s going to hurt.” Namjoon looks like he is going to reach out for your hand, but you pull it away. The pain is so excruciating you grip the table instead, knuckles turning white.

You could feel Jin’s warm hands through the bandage as he presses it to your shoulder. “I need you to stay in this room for a day or two so we can monitor your vitals. I had to give you a blood transfusion, and I want to observe how you respond to the medication. I’ll go fetch you some fresh clothes. Namjoon could you move her over to the bed?” He nods as Jin leaves the room. Sitting you up and lifting you in his arms he’s careful not to touch your skin. He rests you down so that you are sitting on the sheets. Crouching before you he takes you hands in his.

He pulls something out of his pocket and places it in your clasped hand, it’s your father’s ring, your families ring. You know his intention in giving it is to comfort you, but feels like just another slap in the face. Your anger dissolves into sadness, tears finally streaming down your face. He hesitates before reaching up and wiping one away with his thumb. You feel bad for taking out your anger on Namjoon, it wasn’t his fault that your father had wanted to keep this hidden.

Jin returns. “RM I leave you for one moment and here you are driving my patient to tears, OUT!”  

Namjoon protests.

“Unless (Y/N) doesn’t mind you staying here while she changes?” Jin askes.

He turns bright red, dropping your hand he apologizes, and leaves without another word.

“Works every time.” Jin smiles and laughs to himself, “Put him in an awkward situation and he freezes right up. I hope  these fit we don’t have to many clothes that’ll suite you. We never thought we would need to keep a stock of women’s clothes in our safehouse.” In addition to the clothes he also brought a basin of warm water and a few towels. “I’ll just be cleaning up my instruments if you need help.” He drew a curtain to give me some privacy.

The sweat pants weren’t a problem, the shirt on the on the other hand. “Jin?”

“Yes?”

“I might need another pair of hands.”

The shirt is stuck to you, dried blood gluing it to your skin, a difficult task even if both your arms were working. “I think we’ll have to cut it off.” He looks a little uncomfortable but proceeds anyway.

“It’s a good thing you don’t freeze up during awkward situations too.”

He smiles, “I can’t afford to, someone has to be the mature one of the group.”

You hold a sheet to your chest as he cuts the last of the shirt off. You unhooked your bra at the same time and slip it off. “Let me wash your back for you, you’re not going to be able to reach all the blood,” Jin offers.

“Thank you I’ll be honest I didn’t expect...”

“Gang members to act this way? Not all do obviously. I don’t have the typical upbringing that most gang members have had. I was part of a political family, always in the spotlight, I have tried to hold on to the manners and social graces passed down to me.”

You had often interacted with other political families as a child. The memory of a childhood crush comes to the forefront of your mind, one that you hadn’t thought about it years. You understand why Jin looks so familiar now. You turn around to face him, a bloody cloth resides in his hand, a confused expression appears on his face. Looking into his eyes, you question his name, “Seokjin?”

His smile is so great that it crinkles his eyes, “I thought that you would never recognize this handsome face.” An air of laughter in his voice.

You smile back reaching slowly up to his face. “How long has it been?”

He cups your hand to his cheek, “18 years, not since the funeral...”

When your mom died..when you moved to the countryside to be with her sister, that was when your whole life changed. You can’t help but regret your father’s decision to ship you off now.

While you are lost in your thoughts, he abruptly pulls your hand away. Clearing his throat he changes his tone back to that of an acquaintance, becoming uncomfortably professional. “If you could please call me Jin... I have left that other name behind. It would probably be best to call Namjoon RM as well, some of the guys get uneasy when we use real names.”

“Of course Jin but why are you here now. What happened?”

“I’ll have to save that story for another time.” He pulls out a zip up sweater and tries stretching out your weak arm slowly pulling the sleeve up the length of it. After pulling your other arm through he comes around and front and zips it up. You pull the sheet out from underneath.

“I never thought that I would see you again. Thank you Jin for everything.” He beams at you but you can’t help but feel that he is hiding more than he lets on.

“I’m going to give you some painkillers, and take first watch. Jimin will be in later while I get some rest. If you need to reach me, please use that button.” He points to a remote on the bedside table. He settles into the chair beside your bed. After plugging in your IV he holds you hand until you fall asleep... just like he used to.

POV Jin

You fall asleep quicker than I anticipate. I run my hands through my hair. I still can’t believe that you remember me, I’m not sure if I should be happy that you can recall my name after 18 years apart, or upset that you know me from my previous life. You are the only good period in a past that I want to forget so much. While you sleep I sit in the chair next to you, my head resting in my hands, while I monitor your vitals.

RM returns an hour later. I let a sigh escapes me, now it is my turn to fess up. I look at RM through my fingers, elbows’ still on my knees to support my heavy head.

“I knew Park had a daughter.”

“I figured as much.”

“How?..”

“When I let then news drop you were the only one who stayed quiet, you Jin, you have an opinion on everything.”

I chuckle. “We used to play together as kids in my other life. Our fathers were close before... well, you know... They were more than friends, more than colleagues, they were like brothers. After the incident she moved away and I haven’t seen her since. Almost 20 years later she still remembers me. Park told me not to say anything, he said that it was for the best. I question it now though, was he right to make that decision? It seems like she has dealt with more hardships than we were aware of.”

RM looks over at you.

“She’s out cold there was a light sedative with her pain medication, she won’t wake for at least a few hours.” I inform him.

RM takes a deep breath, “I think it was wrong of him to make that decision for her. I want to bring her into the fold, but in order to do that I am going to need your help. Now that her father has pass and without his approval she will be understandably cautious. ”

I open my mouth to argue, but RM continues.

“I know, I’m sorry there are going to be things that you aren’t going to want to discuss but she is from your world originally. Not only that but she has worked alone to survive for so many years, she may not want to rely on us for help. You and Hope need to show her your kindness, and Suga will show her the outside threat. If you succeed, we can all show her how sweet revenge is.”

POV (Y/N)

You wake with the sun beaming onto your face.  Lifting your hand to cover your eyes you grimace in pain.

“Morning sleepy head.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost noon.”

You open your eyes, the bare white walls instantly reminding you of your situation. You rolled over in tears hoping that sleep would claim you again, so you didn’t have to face the truth yet. You hadn’t completely processed the situation last night, but that doesn’t change the facts, you are the last remaining member of the Park line, no more father, no mother, no siblings. You are alone...

You feel a finger poke your back. “Is there anything I can get you?”  As your breathing hitches noisily, you hear Jimin take a step back.

“I just need some privacy.”

“You missed breakfast, what do you want to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Jin’s not going to like...”

“Please Jimin,” you beg cutting hit off. “I just want to be alone.”

He gives in, “I’ll be outside the door if you need me.”

You cover your face and let out a wail of sadness which dissolves into more tears. Alone again, you will have to get used to this. Although you did not see you father very much having him there occasionally was better than not at all. His secrets hurt you deeply, the same questions running through your head over and over. What exactly was he using this team for that he couldn’t tell you? Had he not realized the pain he was putting you through? Is it okay to be angry with him even though he paid the ultimate price for it all? Your mind teeters between grief and anger only to be distracted hours later by the sound of a row outside.

“She wants privacy!” Exclaimes Jimin.

“I want to make sure that she is okay.” You hear Namjoon respond.

“Did she push the button?”

There is a pause before Namjoon answers, “No.”

“Then I’m not letting you in, she will come out when she wants to. Give her time.”

Namjoon swears loudly but the sound of his footsteps leading away reaches your ears. You feel a surge of gratefulness toward Jimin as you don’t want anyone to see you like this especially Namjoon. You want to be strong in front of him and knowing that he was your father’s right hand man would make you crumble again instantly.

You partially unzip your sweater to take a look at the wound, the pain has returned, and the bandage is somewhat bloody. You look around the room. Two doors, one the exit, the other must be the bathroom. You thank the gods that you won’t have to leave the room to use the toilet. You push yourself to the edge of the bed, testing your legs on the floor before making the trek.

Looking in the mirror was a mistake. Your hair the consistency of a mop, eyes extremely puffy. You hadn’t noticed last night that Jin had placed a bandage on your neck as well. You tie your hair back with the elastic on your wrist.

After relieving yourself, you are heading back to bed when pain overwhelms you, hitting with a wave of dizziness to top it off. You reach out to grab the table next to you to steady yourself, but your blurry vision prevents you from seeing Jin’s surgery tray resting near the edge. There is a large clatter as both you and the tray fall to the floor . You swear loudly.

Jimin came barging through the door. “Are you okay?” He kneels down to you assessing your condition. You look to the floor taking a moment to pull yourself together. He craned his head under yours looking up at your face. “You should have called for help, I was just outside if you needed me remember?”

“I’m used to getting by on my own, I just got dizzy.”

“Getting by with a gunshot wound?” He asks skeptically. “You’re probably in a lot of pain aren’t you?”

You look away embarrassed by his proximity.

“Let me help you.” You begin to shake your head.

“It wasn’t a question.” He lifts you up, taking you back over to the bed. “You need more pain medicine. I’ll call Jin, he’ll want to know you’re up,” he pulls out his phone before you could protest. He takes a few steps away from your bed pacing as he talks to Jin.

You try not to listen in on their conversation, disliking the act of having to listening to people talk about you. Jimin comes back over to you but now he was the one who looks embarrassed.

“Thank you for earlier with RM, I know that it probably wasn’t easy going against your leader like that.”

“Oh you heard that?” He says growing more flustered, “I just know that if it was me I would need time to collect my thoughts.”

You agree nodding, “And sorry about the height joke yesterday.”

That earns a full laugh from him. “I’m surprised you even remember that, it’s fine really, not like I haven’t heard them all before.

Jin walks in the door with a tray, “I brought food I thought you might be hungry, Jimin I brought yours too. How are you feeling?”

He puts a hand to your forehead. “No fever that’s good, let’s check your...wound” He hesitates on your sweater, still partially unzipped, solving the mystery of Jimin’s abashedness.

After his examination Jin makes sure to zip your sweater back up to the top. “Stitches seem to be holding, take this.” He hands you more pain medication and a glass of water.

You watch Jin out of the corner of your eye as he walks back to the food tray. He slaps the back of Jimin’s head along the way, whispering and gesturing to you. You try to look absorbed in your own thoughts while drinking your water but a snort of laughter sneaks through. Jin carries your food over to you. “Hope you like black bean noodles.” You nod eyes wide, unable to remember the last time that someone made food for you like this.

In the distance you could hear the smoke detector. “Never should have left RM in charge of the stove.” Jin muttered under his breath leaving swiftly.

Jimin had just picked up his dinner and looked as if a dilemma was raging inside of him. Defeat showing in his slumped shoulders he turns towards the door bowl in hand.

“Jimin could you stay and eat with me?”

He turns his head to give you a beautiful smile. “Of course.”

You both ate in silence for the most part, but it was nice to have someone else there. You run one question over and over in your head try to figure out the best way to phrase the query. “Jimin if you don’t mind me asking how did you meet my father?”

“You mean how did I come to be in a gang?” He smirks, seeing right through you. He then hesitates and lowers his head.

“I’m sorry it was rude of me to ask, I’m sure it’s personal.”

“Your right it is personal. Not many people join gangs out of desire, for most of us membership was the only path to survival.  I used to work in films as a stunt double, I specialized in sword fighting. My work was my life I loved the beauty of the movements and the complexity they reached. I still look back in on that time fondly, however I reached a dry spell with my career, no one was creating films with old style fighting scenes. I tried to broaden my horizon with other stunts but ended up injuring myself during a car chase scene. Unable to work I quickly fell into debt and stared owing money to the wrong kind of people. I never should have listened to the other actors when they said that they had connections to borrow money, by connections they meant drug dealers.”

He pauses, a pained look appears on his face as he begins to speak again. “They came for me one night when I was late on a payment. As they beat me to a pulp, they debated if they were going to sell me on the market, thinking that my looks might make them a profit. I fought off most of them but they hit back hard. They left me for dead in the alley when they realized that I wasn’t such and easy target.”

I shivered as I thought of my own experience, imagining the fear and pain he must have felt. “RM found me, and Jin fixed me up. They told your father I would be an asset to the team with the experience I had. Your father paid off my debts and placed me under his protection. I was proud to be on his team. I never felt like I was going against my conscience  with the jobs he gave us. He was a good man.”

“What kind of work do you guys do?”

“Not sure that I am the best one to explain it, RM will have to fill you in.”

I look at my watch, it was approaching 6pm.  I don’t want to put this off any longer, “ Could I meet the rest of the team, I wouldn’t mind getting out of this room.”

“I can always call them up here but if you’re really determined Jin said that they will be in downstairs in the kitchen.”

“I think I can handle that, stairs will be the easiest obstacle I’ve had all week.”

“Before talking to them you should know, some of the other members are a bit more private about their life before joining. I would let them approach the subject first rather than asking.” You nod, his concern for his fellow members is admirable.

With food inside you and feeling a bit more stable, making it to the stairs under your own power. You grip the railing as you go down, Jimin holding on to your side ready to catch you if you end up going head first. You examine your surroundings as you descend. “I thought Jin said this was a safe house, this place is huge.”

“It‘s more like our city residence. Park wanted us to be comfortable, and the location is more convenient than the manor for running ops,” Jimin explains.  

Just to the side of the kitchen there it a long table with eight chairs. Namjoon is seated at the head, Jin to his right, JHope next to Jin, with an empty seat beside Hope.

The three seats on the other side of namjoon are occupied by those who you have not yet met officially although you think you might have had a brief glance at the boy in the middle last night. Jimin pulls out the chair at the end for you.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“No need to apologize this is perfect timing, let me introduce Suga, V, and JK.” Namjoon responds kindly.

You bow your head to them, silence creeps into the room. Everyone’s eyes are down cast no one looking directly at you, a truly somber meeting. How much did your father mean to them? It seems like he might have been more than just a patron.

“I would like to thank you all for last night, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now if it wasn’t for your help.”

“We had our orders, “Get her out, and keep her safe.” Suga mutters. He earns an elbow to the side from V.

“I apologize if they seem rude.” Jin glares at Suga. “Only RM and I knew of your existence until yesterday.”

“I can relate. You are not going to disrespect me by being honest. I wish I could have saved him, I know that you would rather have him sitting here instead of me”

J-Hope responds, “Your father treated all of us like a family. He saved us all and brought us together. His last request was for us to save you. I am thankful that we were able to fulfill that wish.” You give him a small smile which he returns. You can’t help but feel that he might have been more of a father to them than he was to you.

Your fingers fumble on the ring in your pocket. You reassure yourself that this is the right decision before placing it on the table. You look Namjoon dead in the eye trying to show confidence in your choice. “I will leave this in your care, it was always intended to symbolize the passing of familial duties. I don’t think I can live up to that task anymore,” you smile sadly. “I’m sorry to intrude on your space, I’ll be out of your hair by Monday, I have my ticket already booked.”

V’s eyes widen looking at you,“ Your father’s will specified that you were the single heir, you know what you are to inherrate right? A multi billion dollar fortune.”

You nod your head. “I never wanted to live like this lifestyle thought, why do you think I work at a bookstore? The thought of being  an heiress with political ties...” You shiver with anxiety, “I wanted to have a  normal life away from the spotlight, and I still dot.”

V opens his mouth again only uttering one word, “but...”

Namjoon continues when V’s words fail. “What V is trying to say is that it is no longer safe for you to return to your old life.  GOT7 is already aware of your status, and news will spread fast. Not only was Park a rich political advocate but he was also the patron and founder of BTS. Other gangs will see you as a commodity and a threat with Park gone. The original plan, if anything like this happened,  was to disband, but there is too much at stake right now. In addition we now have a debt to collect from GOT7.”

“What do you expect me to do, take on my father’s role? Be your financial backer no questions asked? I don’t need to stay here. I have my own life, I can take care of myself.”

“You could barely take care of yourself before.” He retorts.

“What is that supposed to mean?” As you ask it occurs to you that last week might not have been his first trip to Busan. “How long have you been watching me RM?!” You snap back.

He flinches, you are unsure if it was the change of name or you calling him out.

“There were several targets that I monitored over the years. I took them out before they could get too close. Imagine what it will be like now, with the secret out.”

“How many?!” You yell your patience growing thin.      

The other members look to Namjoon as if they are also interested in that information.

“11 maybe 12.” Namjoon mutters.

“Aissh, this is why I don’t like to be kept in the dark! I need transparency not a protector, then maybe I can be ready for what will come. Monday morning I will be on that train.”

“I am telling you it’s not safe.”

The other members heads swiveled back and forth as if watching a tennis match.

“Well then I guess lucky 13 will finish me off, but at least I’ll die on my own terms, my own risk.”

“Is that what your father would have wanted?”

Your heart stops, unable to believe harshness of the words he just delivered. “Don't you fucking dare, how dare you turn this on me?! How the hell should I know, the man lied to me my whole life, how would I know what he wanted?” You storm out of the room. You make it halfway up the stairs before collapsing in sobs while clutching your shoulder.

POV  RM

Jin looks at me, “Well that went well.”

I place my hand on my face pinching my brow.

“JK I need you to hack into the street cams around her work and apartment in Busan I’ll give you the addresses, we need to prove to her that her past life has been compromised.”

Jk nods, and retreats to his computer den.

“What is your plan for her RM?” asks Jimin.

“She has potential you all have seen that, she could be more than just a backer. I tried to explain this to Park a week ago  but now we have to bring her in. J-Hope you got what I asked?”

“Right here,” He smiles lifting the bags.

“She’s going to need a hand if you could help her.” I ask of him.

“You are to be a perfect gentleman, do you hear me?.” Jin adds.

“I always am.” He laughs, running off.

“Suga I’ll need you to take her out after like we discussed.”

He nods, “I never thought I would see the day that someone could shut you down so easily RM. That is a skill set worth keeping close.” A smirk clearly displayed on his face at my expense.  

“As her acting physician, I really must advise against this. She needs rest.” Jin warns

“Either we do this now, or we find her sneaking out in the middle of the night. I’m sure you can see how determined she is, she will completely underestimate the amount of danger she’s in.

“We’ll maybe if you didn’t insult her...” V starts but then tapers off.

I scowl at him and give him a task to focus on, “V I need you to take her to the bank tomorrow.  With the news out about her father, she should claim her inheritance as soon as possible.” I issue one last order,“Jin you and I will need to prepare the funeral arrangements.”

POV J-Hope

I find you seated on the steps halfway up, you body trembling, and breathing ragged, but no tears. “Are you okay?” You respond by shaking your head. “Let’s move you off the stairs then.”

Hoisting you up I take you to your new room. I was confident that you would find it far more comfortable than Jin’s sterile office . I sit you down at the foot of the bed and couch in front of you. Resting a hand on you pale forearm I wait for your anxiety to lessen before speaking again.

“How does your arm feel?”

“Numb, I can’t feel much right now.”

I couldn't be sure if you were referring to the pain or your circumstances. I nod, not pushing the issue, instead I start pulling off the bags that a had kept on my arm. Pushing a smile on my face trying to stay positive, “I bought you some clothes, just went off the sizes of what you were wearing, I hope everything fits okay.” You pull out an oversize white hoodie, a black shirt and black leggings in addition to some undergarments.

“Wow you pick these out too?” You ask holding up the green underwear.

If you are expecting to get a rise out of me it definitely works. Blushing I stammer, “No! The sales women chose those.” I fail to mention that the associate did ask what my favourite colour was. “There is a shower in there if you want to freshen up, Jin suggested keeping the bandage on.”

The second you start unzipping your hoodie I jump back in further embarrassment. “Could you hand me that towel to cover myself. I am going to need help taking this off.” You shove the towel up your shirt. I hold the sleeve as you retract your good arm. I pull the sweater around exposing your back, you attempt to straighten your other arm, only to be followed by a gasp of pain.

“Easy there take it slow.” I help you by moving the fabric around so no further movement is needed from your arm. After you head to the bathroom I lay back on the bed trying to cool my heated face.

Parks daughter, I could definitely see similarities in there determination, but they are very different when it comes to emotions, you wear yours on your sleeve, whereas Park buried his beneath.  Will you be able to handle the pressure? You will have to rely on us far more than Park did, not that I would mind.  

The water stops after 10 minutes or so, I hear another yep of pain not long after, I rush to the door. “Need help?”

“Unless you can put my bra on for me I’m good.”

I panic, “Should I get Jin?”

“No I’ve almost got it.”

A few minutes later you came out in leggings and a t-shirt, holding the hoodie, “Could you?”

You don’t have to finish the sentence before I start helping you again. “Let me get your hair.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“Yes I do, come on.” I sit behind you on the bed running the brush through the soft strands. You seems very much on edge, with a far away look in your eye. After the conversation downstairs I can only assume you want to get out of here as fast as possible, “I know what you’re thinking, please don’t do anything rash. RM is just concerned for your safety, he has JK surveying your home in Busan right now to see if it has been compromised. If it’s all clear you can go without a worry.”

“They are?” You sound surprised and hopeful.

There was no need to dash your dreams right now. It was far more likely than not that our rivals were making their way to your home now to learn more about you.

“Please let us take care of this. It is what we are trained to do.”

“I can’t be watched over forever, I need my freedom.”

“Then let me train you, I’m one of the best fighters in the group. We will have to wait a while until your shoulder heals, but let me suggest it to RM.”

“You’ll train me in Busan?” You ask skeptically. I can tell that you are trying to gauge if my offer is just a ruse to convince you to stay.

Seeing the trap you’ve planted I step over it. “Wherever you end up I will train you.”

“Clever Hope.”

“Just staying honest.”

There’s a knock at the door followed by Suga’s voice, “Hey Spitfire, you ready?”

A/N :  And that's it for this chapter... Who here guessed that the MC and Jin were childhood friends?! What did you think of Jimin's backstory? Next week you will get to read about Suga's past!

[theguineapig3]

Tales Whump Week Day 1: Wounds

“Silent Treatment”

Tales of Symphonia Words: 1786 Characters: Kratos Aurion, Dirk, Lloyd Irving (mentioned)

Kratos didn't know which hurt worse- the wounds he sustained in his fight with Lloyd, or the suffocating silence he endured as Lloyd’s real father patched him up.

“You don't have to do this. As an angel, my body will heal quickly, even without treatment.”

Kratos’ words had been spoken almost as a plea when Dirk appeared with a first aid kit. Lloyd and his companions had left to confront Mithos, and Kratos’ attempt to leave and recover somewhere solitary was thwarted by his inability to stand without pain. It shot through his abdomen like receiving a punch, and he’d doubled over onto the table. The next thing he knew, he had been carried upstairs and laid out on Lloyd’s bed. Dirk was shuffling through his medical supplies, the smell of medicinal herbs filling the room and clouding Kratos’ thoughts. Dirk was saying something about internal hemorrhage and types of poultices that could help with the bruising. The scientific name Arnica unalaschensis was thrown around, and if Kratos’ thoughts hadn't been so muddled, he might have been able to identify exactly what the plant was. But with the pain, the thick haze of herbal smells, and the burning humiliation of being in such a vulnerable position, it was all he could do just to protest.

Dirk considered Kratos’ words for only a moment before he shook his head.

“Aye, that mebbe true, but Dwarven Vow 2 says ne’er abandon someain in need. Sae you’re stuck here wi’ me until yer wounds are healed.”

And for an entire week, that was it.

Besides a few single words here and there as instructions, Dirk didn't say a thing. At the beginning, Kratos didn't feel like making conversation, so he didn't mind the silence. But as the week continued, it became clear that Dirk wasn't staying quiet out of respect toward his patient. Kratos tried to catch his eyes, but Dirk was avoiding eye contact, and when their eyes did meet, the look Dirk gave him held none of the friendliness he usually expressed in his oft-quoted Dwarven Vows. It felt more along the lines of a lesser-known vow- 29, beware the anger of a patient man. Kratos didn't know Dirk well enough to assess his usual patience levels, but anyone could see right now that the Dwarf was angry.

Kratos could only think of one reason for that anger.

Lloyd.

But what was it about Lloyd? Was Dirk angry about Kratos’ initial betrayal of Lloyd and his friends? About his connection with Cruxis and the Desians? About his lies and secrecy to prevent his son from learning the truth about their relationship?

Or… was Dirk afraid of losing Lloyd now that his birth-father was in the picture?

The thought was chilling, and Kratos didn't want to dwell on it. But left with no other human interaction, the thought ran through his mind over and over until eventually he couldn't take it anymore.

“Dirk, I know you don't want to talk to me, but there’s something I need to say.”

No longer bedridden at that point, Kratos came downstairs for meals, usually eating in silence at the same table where he knew Lloyd had grown up eating. That day’s dinner was waiting for him as usual, and Dirk was at the hearth cleaning up the soiled dishes. At the sound of Kratos’ voice, he turned and looked up.

“Eat yer supper first. Ye donnae want yer food tae get cold.”

“I don't mind. This is important.”

Still holding a plate in one hand and a sponge in the other, Dirk stopped scrubbing to consider the statement. After a moment’s pause, he sighed and returned the plate to the pot of sudsy water. “Alrecht, what dae ye want?”

Kratos took a deep breath and plunged forward. “I can tell that you're angry with me. I don't begrudge you that; you have plenty of perfectly justified reasons to feel that way. If it's because of my involvement with Cruxis- with the Desians- I understand. If it’s for my betrayal of Lloyd and his friends, I understand. If it’s for my absence most of Lloyd’s life, I understand that too. But I want you to understand, I'm not here to take your job. You are Lloyd’s father. You have been for the past fourteen years and you always will be. I don't intend to come between you and Lloyd. He already has a father, and a good one at that. He doesn't need me.” Kratos stopped to catch his breath, lowering his gaze to the floor. “Once I’m fully healed, I'm going to leave you and Lloyd to live your lives without my interference. So if the thought of losing Lloyd is what’s troubling you, I want you to know that he’s yours. You have nothing to be angry about.”

There was a pause. Kratos felt his nervousness pricking against his skin, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. He had to force his head back up when Dirk spoke again, and immediately regretted it once he saw the fierceness in the Dwarf’s glare.

“Nothin’ tae be angry about? Nothin’?! This is exactly why I’m sae angry with ye! Ye donnae get it at all!”

“Wha-?”

Dirk approached Kratos, pointing an accusatory finger up at him. “I know I've nae been a perfect father tae him, but I believe Lloyd has grown intae a fine lad and I'm proud ay him. What is it about him that bothers ye sae much? Dae ye ‘hink he’s nae smart enough? That he’s tae reckless? Is he tae much of a goody-two-shoes fer yer likin’?”

Kratos took a step back, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about? I adore Lloyd-”

“Then why are ye sae keen tae be rid ay him?”

The words cut like a knife. “Rid of him?” Kratos repeated. “I don't understand.”

Dirk stared for another tense moment before turning away and releasing a long sigh, his shoulders relaxing as if he were breathing out his anger and frustration.

“Ye… keep abandonin’ him. Ye left him behind, ye betrayed him, ye appeared only tae gie cryptic clues an’ then disappear again like it ne’er happened… ye were ready tae up an’ die on him. An’ now that he’s forgiven ye for all that ye’ve dain tae him, ye’re jist gonnae leave him?”

Kratos’ mouth hung open as he processed Dirk’s accusations. Lloyd had evidently told his dad more about his journey than Kratos realized. None of what Dirk had said was false, at least in terms of what had happened. But…

“Giving up my life was the only way to ensure that Lloyd’s group could make a pact with Origin,” Kratos explained. “I was trying to protect Lloyd, to aid him in his quest to create the kind of world he’s striving for. He’s worked so hard. He deserves that. I'm proud of him.”

“Bit nae proud enough tae stay with him?”

Once again, the room filled with tense silence. In contrast to the past few days of little to no eye contact from Dirk, Kratos now found himself under the full force of the Dwarf’s stare. It was scathing enough, but what really got to him was the realization that this had been the source of Dirk’s behavior the whole time. He hadn't been worried that Kratos would take Lloyd away from him- in fact, the opposite was true. Dirk wanted Kratos to be part of Lloyd’s life.

The fact that he had assumed otherwise sent a pang of guilt through Kratos’ chest.

“Dirk, I… I'm so sorry.”

“Sorry fer what?” Dirk asked, and Kratos realized he should have clarified.

“I'm sorry for… for thinking so poorly of you as to imagine you were jealous. You brought me into your home, took care of me even though I can heal on my own, fed me even though I don’t need to eat… I knew you were angry, but instead of asking you what was wrong, I let my wild fantasies take over.”

“I’m sorry tae. I let my anger an’ frustration gie th’ better ay me, an’ I treated ye poorly. I should hae been honest frae th’ start, scolded ye properly once ye were awake enough tae understand.” Dirk looked away. “I ken that Lloyd is a strong lad. I donnae want tae gie in th’ way ay his quest to save th’ worlds. I’m nae a fighter, I can’t gang wi’ him an’ his group. Stayin’ here an’ supportin’ him at my forge is the best thing I can dae fer him. Bit I’ve grown sae used tae his presence around th’ house these past fourteen years, I wake up every mornin’ an’ th’ realization that I willnae see his smilin’ face o’ hear his voice makes me want tae turn back o’er an’ gang back tae sleep. I miss him, an’ it’s like an awful weight on my chest ‘at makes it hard tae breathe, hard tae move, hard tae dae anythin’. Ev’ry time he comes home, I hope an’ pray ‘at he’s back fer good. It’s a selfish, unrealistic fantasy, an’ I would ne’er say it out loud tae him. Bit you…”

Kratos took a step forward to close the gap between them. “...I had the chance to be with him,” he finished, “and I didn’t. I squandered opportunities that Lloyd’s real father would’ve done anything to have. It’s no wonder he’s so angry with me.”

There was a pause, and Dirk finally allowed himself to look at Kratos again. “Ye’re nae less his ‘real father’ than I am. Dwarven Vow 162,” he began, “th’ best time tae plant a tree was twenty years ago; th’ second-best time is now.”

He didn’t need to interpret the proverb for Kratos’ to understand what he was getting at. With a smile, Kratos turned back toward the table and took a seat in front of his plate. Dirk sat across from him, motioning toward the food.

“I told ye earlier, supper’ll get cold if ye donnae eat it now.”

Kratos looked down at the meal- a simple plate of potatoes and minced meat. He’d made it clear to Dirk early on that he didn't need the food, yet Dirk had cooked proper meals for him every day despite the animosity between them. Maybe it was because of his adherence to the Dwarven vows, or maybe it was because he missed cooking for Lloyd, or… maybe…

“You know,” Kratos began as he picked up his fork, “earlier I said that my angel abilities help me heal quickly, but these wounds seem particularly severe. I may not be fully healed for a while- until Lloyd gets back at the very least.”

For the first time that evening, Dirk cracked a smile.

“That’s tae bad. I guess ye’ll be stuck here ‘till then, huh?”

“I guess I will.”