#we have family members that have lost light due to the storm

[blitzbuckz]

[eiloveir]

characters: uchiha brothers, haruno sakura

warnings: this is poorly done (it was rushed) and includes mentions of death, illness, and similar topics.

a/n: as mentioned, this was hastily completed and lacks emotional depth. it’s also a modern au. I was inspired while listening to music and intend to compile a masterlist using song prompts I’ve come across.

The lights’ sharp glare peaked through the eerie silence, intensifying the almost oppressive atmosphere in the hospital room. A faint buzzing from healthcare devices became an ominous signal of the volatile state in which life exists and at some point ends. Sasuke battled the omnipresent fear that threatened to consume him, standing motionless in front of the door with his hand shaking violently.

Sakura’s heart broke to see her husband struggling, and watched him with a worried expression on her face. She was aware that Sasuke’s emotion-filled stoicism was collapsing beneath it, and she hoped she could take on some of his suffering.

“Sasuke, do you-”

Sakura couldn’t say anything when Sasuke suddenly shoved open the door. His face was unreadable and austere—scarcely masking what he was fighting inside. He, then, met his brother’s eyes which had once been lively and alive but had since darkened due to disease and the thought of death’s nearness.

The truth of their situation was beginning to consume Sasuke’s being, and he could no longer stand to stare at him any longer. He stood there, struggling with the pain churning in the pit of his stomach, and the room felt smaller, more repressive.

Despite the despair, Sakura forced a modest smile and idly expressed her support by holding onto her husband’s arm. She had taken care of Itachi as a patient and directly seeing the effects of his condition. She was very sad for the man who had only become her brother-in-law. A beloved member of their family that was disappearing right before their eyes.

With his poise slipping in the face of reality, Sasuke made his way to sit next to his brother’s bed. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Sasuke’s words were tinted with left out distress, and his voice was raspy. “We could have done something. Anything…”

Itachi listened quietly, comprehension could be seen in his eyes. He knew all too well that even if he said anything, his illness would still take its toll. His eyes softened as he expressed gratitude. “Sasuke... Sakura, I am content with the future and didn’t want to burden you with this.”

Sakura gave him a tearful frown. She felt exactly the same as Sasuke did—after all, he was her patient and brother-in-law. She wept alongside her husband as she watched him go to pieces. She was frightened of losing Itachi as well. She was aware that he wouldn’t last much longer because of the telltale indicators, which included his frailty, weariness, and need for sleep. All indicators indicate lung cancer in its late stage. Hope was completely lost.

“It wouldn’t have ended up like this,” Sasuke’s voice trembled, tears welling in his eyes as he reached out to grasp Itachi’s hand. “Aren’t you afraid?”

With a soft laugh that rang throughout the room, Itachi was able to chuckle somewhat. Speaking in a scarcely audible voice, he reassured Sasuke, “I’m not... afraid.” For a minute, in the midst of the storm, he closed his eyes and felt calm. “However, tell me, was I a good brother to you?”

“More than words can say.” Sasuke’s breath froze in his throat as memories of their brotherhood rushed through his mind.

“That makes me feel better about leaving this world then...” Itachi whispered, causing Sasuke to sob and clutch his hand hard before placing his head on the side of his death bed. “It pains me deeply to witness you like this as I am on the verge of leaving.” Itachi said. His brother’s outbursts made him sincerely miserable. But what is he capable of doing? He felt so weak that he couldn’t say a word without hurting his throat.

“The one thing I will regret is not being able to see my niece.” Itachi sighed, stealing a glance at the married couple.

Tears streamed down Sakura’s face as she turned her gaze away from the scene. An agony she could hardly stand throbbed in her heart. She thought back to the time she had told Itachi that she was pregnant with his brother’s child.

“I’m pleased Sakura informed me,” Itachi muttered. “I was very happy to hear it. I thought I could finally fulfill my dream of becoming an uncle. But I guess, it wasn’t destined to happen.”

“You will make it home.” Sasuke said with an assured tone and he glanced at his wife to get her approval. Sakura met his mournful gaze with a sidelong glance that made his heartbreak even more intense.

“I’ve come to terms with it,” Itachi said, letting out a quick exhale and closing his eyes. With his last strength weighing on every syllable, he added, “There’s something I’d like to ask,” his voice was above a whisper. Sasuke and Sakura drew closer to listen intently to everything he had to say.

“Your child,” he said, his gaze moving between them, “I believe... she will be a girl.” His voice trembled, a hope running through his words. Itachi’s eyes softened as he spoke about a future he knew he would not be a part of.

Sasuke looked at Sakura, and she nodded.

“In that case,” Itachi said, his voice practically a whisper, “may I... name her?”

The couple glanced at him, and in response, Sakura tapped his husband’s shoulder to signal her approval of his brother’s request. “Yes, Itachi. You can name her.”

“Sarada... That name.” Itachi managed to mumble, his voice strained and barely audible over the beeping of the medical devices.

Following with the response, Itachi’s body shook from the strain of speaking, his power growing less by the second. Deep lines of pain carved his face, his features twisted in silent suffering as he struggled to free himself from the crippling hold of his disease.

With tears running down his face, Sasuke feels like his heart has been squeezed as he held Itachi’s waning hand. “Itachi,” his voice cracking with grief. “Hold on, please...”

His brother’s strength fluctuated as his body trembled—he let out a strained breath. His face, pale and drawn with pain, his eyelids drifting closed. Itachi mustered his final strength in that moment as he whispered, “We’ll meet again.”

It felt as though the entire room had stopped breathing at that time. The cardiac monitor’s consistent beeping, which is opposed to the sudden drone that shattered the silence—the noise rippled throughout the room, pulling Sasuke and Sakura out of their slumber. It was a very unsettling goodbye note, an ugly reminder of how short life is and that Itachi’s soul would eventually pass on to the hereafter.

[officeobject]

POV: You wanna help people by reblogging or donating if you can

elegantkidpuppy

1h ago

elegantkidpuppy asked:

Hello , can you please reblog or publish a post for my campaign? Due to the slow pace of donations, they pass slowly as ice. I hope you can help me. A small amount like $5, $10, or $20 will be more than useful to help me and my family. Thank you for everything💔🙏

‏Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser🍉🍉🍉‼️💔

I am #310 on the Vetted Fundraisers List‼️

‏Right now, donated money is being used to help us survive this war. Food is very expensive and my family has to pay rent for the land that our tent is on. However, I want to save up enough money to evacuate my family to a safer place where we can rebuild our lives. I dream of returning to university to finish my computer science degree. I want to provide a better life for my family than is possible in Gaza. My family and I have many dreams we would like to fulfill after this war. We are grateful to everyone who donated and helps us during this time of suffering.

Thank you for reading ♥️

I have been verified by @apollos-olives, it is in my pinned post.

‏https://gofund.me/73d4b003

Answer

huda-gaza1

1h ago

huda-gaza1 asked:

Hello, I am Huda from Gaza. Our house was destroyed, and I lost some of my family members. I need help to protect what is left of my family, and I am looking for ways to leave Gaza. If anyone can provide financial assistance or help share my story to support me, I would be grateful. Thank you.

Answer

ghazialamoudi

10h ago

ghazialamoudi asked:

Vetted by: 1) gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #89 ) 2) a-shade-of-blue Here 3) 90-ghost Here 4) dlxxv-vetted-donations Here

Dear Friend,

I hope this message finds you in a moment of peace. My name is Ghazi Al Amoudi, and I’m reaching out to you from the depths of despair. My family and I are trapped in Gaza, caught in the relentless storm of war. We’ve lost everything—our home, our safety, and the foundation of our lives 💔. Now, we find ourselves huddled in a fragile tent, vulnerable to the harsh elements and living in constant fear 💨💦.

With a heart filled with both sorrow and hope, I am desperately asking for your help 😢. Every bit of support—whether a donation, a share, or a kind word—brings us one step closer to escaping this nightmare. Our home, once a place of warmth and love, is now a memory buried under rubble 💔. We are left with only fear and uncertainty, struggling to survive each day 😔.

Please, if you can find it in your heart, help us find safety 😭🙏. Even the smallest act of kindness can light up our darkest hours, offering us a chance to rebuild our shattered lives. Your compassion could be the turning point between despair and a new beginning 🥺❤.

Here is my campaign link: https://gofund.me/8a2c70d7. If you are unable to donate, simply sharing our story could help us reach someone who can.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your kindness and support 🙏❤.

With deep gratitude, Ghazi Al Amoudi

14% of my long-term goal

1,476€ out of 10,000€

Donations are protected by GOFUNDME

Answer

salman-1990 19h agosalman-1990 asked:Please do not ignore our suffering and leave us alone My name is Salman Helles, from the stricken Gaza Strip. We were displaced from the north of the Gaza Strip to the south of the Strip, and the family was dispersed in tents and displacement shelters. Our situation is very miserable. We do not have any of the necessities of life. We would not have asked for support and donations except because of our dire circumstances. Please donate to me as much as you can and make sure that your donation, no matter how small, contributes to saving us. If you cannot donate, share my campaign on your blogMy campaign has already been verified by 90-ghostAnswer

salman-1990 20h agosalman-1990 asked:Please do not ignore our suffering and leave us alone My name is Salman Helles, from the stricken Gaza Strip. We were displaced from the north of the Gaza Strip to the south of the Strip, and the family was dispersed in tents and displacement shelters. Our situation is very miserable. We do not have any of the necessities of life. We would not have asked for support and donations except because of our dire circumstances. Please donate to me as much as you can and make sure that your donation, no matter how small, contributes to saving us. If you cannot donate, share my campaign on your blogMy campaign has already been verified by 90-ghostAnswer

[itsmealex04]

Alexander D. Pusta G-11 Narra Tropical Storm Paeng Nowadays we can't control the happenings in our everyday life. We can't expect every day is a good day or a bad day but we can be alert and informed especially during calamities such as typhoons. As months go by the whole region of the Philippines experienced a strong typhoon named "Paeng" it is a strong tropical typhoon that can lead to destroying houses, plants, and properties and the loss of lives of certain people.

On that day I see in the news lots of reports of flash floods, landslides, loss of properties and loved ones, and most especially stranded on the road on the way of coming home and canceled trips and flights.

Typhoon Paeng brought disaster and lots of destruction left after he landed. Many Filipinos are affected and have no house to shelter them, no food to eat, and clothes to wear. Fortunately, in the aftermath of the typhoon few organizations and companies are getting together to do the Bayanihan program to give relief goods and rescue those who are in need.

Our Filipino citizens are saddened by what happened since other families lost their family members due to flashflood and landslides.

For this scenario, we need to be ready and alert during this time. We need to get ready. For this, we need to implement to plant more trees and do clean up on our roads and householders for cleanliness and the drainage and other garbages will be disposed of properly so that strong wind and rain can be absorbed and all the drainages will be clean and be useful during calamities.

We must secure also our things that can be used for an evacuation since we can't determine the happening so we must follow the officials for the announcements and instructions that will be followed

As per said for us to be protected we must be actively ready and secure all the important things so that in times of calamities we are smart ready and secure. Most importantly we must pray all together for the safety of our nation and have faith in God that every storm will come there will be a light for our hope and protection.

[island-mljet]

Ebike Rental for Mljet Day Trip (No Driver's License Needed)

Looking for a good time to spend a day exploring Mljet's breathtaking natural surroundings? Instead, consider renting an electric bike. Mljet's hilly topography, picturesque shoreline, and lush forests make it a cyclist's heaven. You can travel further with electric bikes without becoming tired. We'll go over where to go on Mljet private tours in this article so you can make the most of your rental experience on an electric bike. Whether you're traveling alone or with a group of friends or family, renting an e-bike will make your day trip one of the joys of your life. Put your helmets on as we embark on an electric adventure!

Where can I find out more about renting electric bikes?

Renting an electric bicycle is a quick and simple process in Mljet. Selecting a reputable rental company on the island is the first step. There are many options, so be sure to do your research.

Once you've chosen a rental company, you can check their availability for the dates of your trip by going to their website or giving them a call. Be sure to ask about discounts if you're thinking about renting for more than one day or making a lot of reservations.

You will be required to provide identification, such as your name, address, and driver's license number, in order to rent an electric bicycle. This is required for the insurance and documentation of the rental agency.

Normally, payment is required before the rental bike is handed over. You might need to use cash or a credit card to pay, depending on the provider's rules.

Before starting a ride, it makes sense to give the bike a quick inspection. Verify that the gears, brakes, and lights are all in good working order. Make sure the height and size are to your taste as well.

Now that you are aware of how simple it is to hire an electric bike on Mljet, let's see where our voyage takes us.

In Mljet, where can I ride an electric bike?

Mljet is a cyclist's paradise thanks to its stunning environment, clean canals, and rich history. Here are a few of the best places to ride an electric bike in Mljet.

Beautiful bicycle lanes wind through the forest and alongside the lake at the National Park. Other historical attractions include the St. Mary monastery, which is located on an island in the middle of a serene lake.

It's important to visit places like Babino Polje, where time seems to have stood still. Visitors can experience unaltered rural life in the narrow roads and charming stone cottages.

You should visit Saplunara Bay due of its stunning beaches and crystal-clear water. There are several isolated bays surrounded by pine trees that make it the perfect location for a picnic and leisurely swim.

The epic hero of Homer's Odyssey, Odysseus, is claimed to have given this cave his name after sheltering from the storms there while traveling back from Troy.

You may spend your bike ride on Mljet doing anything you like, from exploring the island's remote beaches and other hidden jewels to taking in the breathtaking scenery and learning about its fascinating history.

Returning Your Bike to You

Returning the bike is equally as important as renting it. It's important to return the bike as directed by the rental agency. Carefully return it to the agreed-upon location on time, in the same condition that you received it in.

Before you leave, be sure to go over the process for returning the bike. You can be asked to lock the bike or leave it with a staff member, depending on the business.

Before returning the electric bike you hired, look for any indications of damage or a problem. Any significant problems should be reported right away to the rental agency so they can be remedied before the property is rented out again.

Don't misplace the rental gear, especially the locks and helmets. Check the return to make sure nothing was lost.

It will help future renters have a positive experience if you follow these instructions while returning your Mljet-rented e-bike.

Ideas for Having Fun on an Electric Bike

The experience of renting an Ebike rental Mljet will be unforgettable if you heed the aforementioned suggestions. Renting an e-bike allows you to enjoyably and responsibly explore the island's natural beauties. Whether you decide to take a guided tour or venture out on your own, there are stunning views and undiscovered jewels waiting to be discovered.

Why not wait? Reserving an e-bike in Mljet straight away will help you get set for a trip you won't soon forget.

[gelatomesomeironqrow]

Okay. My unpopular opinions on House of the Dragon season 1 episode 10 as neither solely a Green or Black fan.

Keep in mind. I have not read Fire and Blood. I want to and it's been on my list for awhile now.

Anyways.

From what I know of the book. It is written by third party members who each had their own biases and the book was painted in a certain light so some characters are made out to be what they are not.

Case in point. Rhaenrya was made out to be the usurper when in reality she was supposed to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By the time she becomes Queen she has already descended into Targaryen madness due to the trauma and pain of losing the people closest to her. But of course since the book is told in the point of view of outsider men, they write her off as insane.

Anyways. Overall I really enjoyed House of the Dragon. I thought almost everything was done really well. I didnt agree with the scene with Rhaenys in the Dragonpit and I certainly dont agree with their choices on what to cut out.

Can I talk about how ominous and wonderful this image is?

Vhagar is a war dragon. Aemond, who is still borderline a kid, does not understand his dragon. All he wanted was to have his own dragon and Vhagar was free and right there. Vhagar who was still grieving the lose of her human, allowed this kid to mount her saddle. But even after the years they have spent together, they don't understand each other. Vhagar caught onto to Luke's nervousness when he first landed at Storm's End, Vhagar who caught onto Luke's fear and Aemond's temporary Targaryen madness and anger/embarrassment over his trauma of losing an eye, reacted to what she thought was the response Aemond wanted.

Dragons are intelligent creatures. Vhagar has been to war. Aemond, Luke and Arrax have not.

Luke was scared shitless and so his dragon reacted. Arrax could have kept running but all he/she knew was that their human was afraid and that there was a big dragon chasing them. Arrax attacked the dragon hoping, naively, that that would get the dragon to leave them alone but Vhagar, an older, more dangerous dragon who has been in war, took that as a sign of aggression.

Aemond made a huge mistake that will have major consequences. All he wanted was to antagonize Luke, one of the reasons he no longer has two eyes.

I know. I know. The book version shows that this was not an accident and that it was definitely intentional. That he had been egged on by the Baratheons to prove his worth. (Which could have happened, we followed Luke's perspective, not Aemond's). But the look on Aemond's face at the end, points in the direction that it wasn't intentional. He may now feel the need to pretend that he meant for it to happen. Since being a kinslayer is a really bad label to have.

Anyways. I know people feel like Daemon's character had been ruined by the writing. And in a way I agree. Daemon, in the book, cares deeply about his family and in the show, somewhere along the lines, they lost that a little. But Daemon is extremely independent and has been itching for a fight for a long time. He loathes the Hightowers, specifically Otto. So him, spending the episode plotting defense and offense, is part of his character. Leaving Rhaenrya to deal with an early pregnancy on her own... choking her... was not. In a way. I haven't read the book, so I don't know this for sure, but right now, with the information I do have, to me, it feels like Daemon's love language is physical touch. The way he grieves is by distancing himself or by busying himself with a task that allows him to forget what happened. He could barely look at Viserys when he was in bed. He couldn't fathom or process losing Laena during childbirth. He watched her chose her own death which traumatized him for sure, watching Rhaenrya have such a difficult pregnancy and knowing what could happen. He threw himself into the task of potential war. His first wife. Whom he did not love. He never touched her at all. Only to murder her and even then, he used the horse and a rock.

Anyways. The scene with him choking her... I'm not going to make excuses for that. All I can say is that that was the Targaryen madness showing up since he is the kind of Targaryen that toys with both sides of the coin.

Moving on.

Rhaenrya. She lost her father, her daughter and her second son within days of each other. She never got the chance to deal with Viserys' passing. Her actions, at least to me, make sense. She wouldn't want to jump into war right away. She was being cautious and calculating. She wanted to know what forces they had before jumping on her dragon.

I know people are mad they didnt have her say her iconic lines but who knows, maybe now she will. The book shows her being insane from the start. They show her being bloodthirsty. And the show is showing us how she got to that point.

This is the face of a woman who has lost everything. Compared with Daenerys. She has reached her breaking point and it is all because she never had a chance to properly grieve or process three deaths.

I'm excited for the next season and I have two years to read the book.

[letterboxd]

In Focus: The Mummy

Dominic Corry responds on behalf of Letterboxd to an impassioned plea to bump up the average rating of the 1999 version of The Mummy—and asks: where is the next great action adventure coming from?

We recently received the following email regarding the Stephen Sommers blockbuster The Mummy:

To whom it may concern,

I am writing to you on behalf of the nation, if not the entire globe, who frankly deserve better than this after months of suffering with the Covid pandemic.

I was recently made aware that the rating of The Mummy on your platform only stands at 3.3 stars out of five. … This, as I’m sure you’re aware, is simply unacceptable. The Mummy is, as a statement of fact, the greatest film ever made. It is simply fallacious that anyone should claim otherwise, or that the rating should fail to reflect this. This oversight cannot be allowed to stand.

I have my suspicions that this rating has been falsely allocated due to people with personal axes to grind against The Mummy, most likely other directors who are simply jealous that their own artistic oeuvres will never attain the zenith of perfection, nor indeed come close to approaching the quality or the cultural influence of The Mummy. There is, quite frankly, no other explanation. The Mummy is, objectively speaking, a five-star film (… I would argue that it in fact transcends the rating sytem used by us mere mortals). It would only be proper, as a matter of urgency, to remove all fake ratings (i.e. any ratings [below] five stars) and allow The Mummy’s rating to stand, as it should, at five stars, or perhaps to replace the rating altogether with a simple banner which reads “the greatest film of all time, objectively speaking”. I look forward to this grievous error being remedied.

Best, Anwen

Which of course: no, we would never do that. But the vigor Anwen expresses in her letter impressed us (we checked: she’s real, though is mostly a Letterboxd lurker due to a busy day-job in television production, “so finding time to watch anything that isn’t The Mummy is, frankly, impossible… not that there’s ever any need to watch anything else, of course.”).

So Letterboxd put me, Stephen Sommers fan, on the job of paying homage to the last great old-school action-adventure blockbuster, a film that straddles the end of one cinematic era and the beginning of the next one. And also to ask: where’s the next great action adventure coming from?

Brendan Fraser, Rachel Weisz and John Hannah in ‘The Mummy’ (1999).

When you delve into the Letterboxd reviews of The Mummy, it quickly becomes clear how widely beloved the film is, 3.3 average notwithstanding. Of more concern to the less youthful among us is how quaintly it is perceived, as if it harkens back to the dawn of cinema or something. “God, I miss good old-fashioned adventure movies,” bemoans Holly-Beth. “I have so many fond memories of watching this on TV with my family countless times growing up,” recalls Jess. “A childhood classic,” notes Simon.

As alarming as it is to see such wistful nostalgia for what was a cutting-edge, special-effects-laden contemporary popcorn hit, it has been twenty-one years since the film was released, so anyone currently in their early 30s would’ve encountered the film at just the right age for it to imprint deeply in their hearts. This has helped make it a Raiders of the Lost Ark for a specific Letterboxd demographic.

Sommers took plenty of inspiration from the Indiana Jones series for his take on The Mummy (the original 1932 film, also with a 3.3 average, is famously sedate), but for ten-year-olds in 1999, it may have been their only exposure to such pulpy derring-do. And when you consider that popcorn cinema would soon be taken over by interconnected on-screen universes populated by spandex-clad superheroes, the idea that The Mummy is an old-fashioned movie is easier to comprehend.

However, for all its throwbackiness, beholding The Mummy from the perspective of 2020 reveals it to have more to say about the future of cinema than the past. 1999 was a big year for movies, often considered one of the all-time best, but the legacy of The Mummy ties it most directly to two of that year’s other biggest hits: Star Wars: Episode One—The Phantom Menace and The Matrix. These three blockbusters represented a turning point for the biggest technological advancement to hit the cinematic art-form since the introduction of sound: computer-generated imagery, aka CGI. The technique had been widely used from 1989’s The Abyss onwards, and took significant leaps forward with movies such as Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991), Jurassic Park (1993) and Starship Troopers (1997), but the three 1999 films mentioned above signified a move into the era when blockbusters began to be defined by their CGI.

A year before The Mummy, Sommers had creatively utilised CGI in his criminally underrated sci-fi action thriller Deep Rising (another film that deserves a higher average Letterboxd rating, just sayin’), and he took this approach to the next level with The Mummy. While some of the CGI in The Mummy doesn’t hold up as well as the technopunk visuals presented in The Matrix, The Mummy showed how effective the technique could be in an historical setting—the expansiveness of ancient Egypt depicted in the movie is magnificent, and the iconic rendering of Imhotep’s face in the sand storm proved to be an enduringly creepy image. Not to mention those scuttling scarab beetles.

George Lucas wanted to test the boundaries of the technique with his insanely anticipated new Star Wars film after dipping his toe in the digital water with the special editions of the original trilogy. Beyond set expansions and environments, a bunch of big creatures and cool spaceships, his biggest gambit was Jar Jar Binks, a major character rendered entirely through CGI. And we all know how that turned out.

A CGI-enhanced Arnold Vosloo as Imhotep.

Sommers arguably presented a much more effective CGI character in the slowly regenerating resurrected Imhotep. Jar Jar’s design was “bigger” than the actor playing him on set, Ahmed Best. Which is to say, Jar Jar took up more space on screen than Best. But with the zombie-ish Imhotep, Sommers (ably assisted by Industrial Light & Magic, who also worked on the Star Wars films) used CGI to create negative space, an effect impossible to achieve with practical make-up—large parts of the character were missing. It was an indelible visual concept that has been recreated many times since, but Sommers pioneered its usage here, and it contributed greatly to the popcorn horror threat posed by the character.

Sommers, generally an unfairly overlooked master of fun popcorn spectacle (G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra is good, guys), deserves more credit for how he creatively utilized CGI to elevate the storytelling in The Mummy. But CGI isn’t the main reason the film works—it’s a spry, light-on-its-feet adventure that presents an iconic horror property in an entertaining and adventurous new light. And it happens to feature a ridiculously attractive cast all captured just as their pulchritudinous powers were peaking.

Meme-worthy: “My sexual orientation is the cast of ‘The Mummy’ (1999).”

A rising star at the time, Brendan Fraser was mostly known for comedic performances, and although he’d proven himself very capable with his shirt off in George of the Jungle (1997), he wasn’t necessarily at the top of anyone’s list for action-hero roles. But he is superlatively charming as dashing American adventurer Rick O’Connell. His fizzy chemistry with Weisz, playing the brilliant-but-clumsy Egyptologist Evie Carnahan, makes the film a legitimate romantic caper. The role proved to be a breakout for Weisz, then perhaps best known for playing opposite Keanu Reeves in the trouble-plagued action flop Chain Reaction, or for her supporting role in the Liv Tyler vehicle Stealing Beauty.

“90s Brendan Fraser is what Chris Pratt wishes he was,” argues Holly-Beth. “Please come back to us, Brendaddy. We need you.” begs Joshhh. “I’d like to thank Rachel Weisz for playing an integral role in my sexual awakening,” offers Sree.

Then there’s Oded Fehr as Ardeth Bey, a member of the Medjai, a sect dedicated to preventing Imhotep’s tomb from being discovered, and Patricia Velásquez as Anck-su-namun, Imhotep’s cursed lover. Both stupidly good-looking. Heck, Imhotep himself (South African Arnold Vosloo, coming across as Billy Zane’s more rugged brother), is one of the hottest horror villains in the history of cinema.

“Remember when studio movies were sexy?” laments Colin McLaughlin. We do Colin, we do.

Sommers directed a somewhat bloated sequel, The Mummy Returns, in 2001, which featured the cinematic debut of one Dwayne Johnson. His character got a spin-off movie the following year (The Scorpion King), which generated a bunch of DTV sequels of its own, and is now the subject of a Johnson-produced reboot. Brendan Fraser came back for a third film in 2008, the Rob Cohen-directed The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor. Weisz declined to participate, and was replaced by Maria Bello.

Despite all the follow-ups, and the enduring love for the first Sommers film, there has been a sadly significant dearth of movies along these lines in the two decades since it was released. The less said about 2017 reboot The Mummy (which was supposed to kick-off a new Universal Monster shared cinematic universe, and took a contemporary, action-heavy approach to the property), the better.

The Rock in ‘The Mummy Returns’ (2001).

For a long time, adventure films were Hollywood’s bread and butter, but they’re surprisingly thin on the ground these days. So it makes a certain amount of sense that nostalgia for the 1999 The Mummy continues to grow. You could argue that many of the superhero films that dominate multiplexes count as adventure movies, but nobody really sees them that way—they are their own genre.

There are, however, a couple of films on the horizon that could help bring back old-school cinematic adventure. One is the long-planned—and finally actually shot—adaptation of the Uncharted video-game franchise, starring Tom Holland. The games borrow a lot from the Indiana Jones films, and it’ll be interesting to see how much that manifests in the adaptation.

Then there’s Letterboxd favorite David Lowery’s forever-upcoming medieval adventure drama The Green Knight, starring Dev Patel and Alicia Vikander (who herself recently rebooted another video-game icon, Lara Croft). Plus they are still threatening to make another Indiana Jones movie, even if it no longer looks like Steven Spielberg will direct it.

While these are all exciting projects—and notwithstanding the current crisis in the multiplexes—it can’t help but feel like we may never again get a movie quite like The Mummy, with its unlikely combination of eye-popping CGI, old-fashioned adventure tropes and a once-in-a-lifetime ensemble of overflowing hotness. Long may love for it reign on Letterboxd—let’s see if we can’t get that average rating up, the old fashioned way. For Anwen.

Related content

How I Letterboxd with The Mummy fan Eve (“The first film I went out and bought memorabilia for… it was a Mummy action figure that included canopic jars”)

The Mummy (Universal) Collection

Every film featuring the Mummy (not mummies in general)

Follow Dom on Letterboxd

[nctyuno]

WHAT IS HAPPENING IN HONDURAS

*UPDATED 11/08/20

Hey guys, I know most of us haven’t been paying much attention to the world given that we have been going through a tough time with elections atm, but I wanted to shine light on the situation going on in Central America, primarily Honduras (which is my homecountry). As some might know, a hurricane struck Central America a few days ago and people have been critically affected by this natural disaster.

A lot of people in Honduras have lost their homes (including some of my family members) due to the crazy rain and winds going on. There have been many people gone missing as well as many fatalities in various zones of the country. Many of my friends and family members back home have been working hard to gather donations and seeking refuge for those who have lost their homes.

Our airports are completely flooded which is making it harder for international help to come.

I decided to gather some links and articles for donations and more information regarding this horrible catastrophe happening currently. Any amount that you can give, even if it’s just passing the word for awarness, would help so so so many people.

Our government is one of the most corrupt governments in the world and if we don’t help our people, no one will. We have lost so many people due to COVID-19, we can’t keep loosing our people due to the lack of response from our government. ** the government has issued a crazy tax percentage for those who are trying to bring donations of foods and clothes from the outaide of the country. They do anything they can to get money from the suffering of our people. This is why, only NON-government affiliated fundraisers are the beat option at the moment.

For more information please visit:

• Weakened Eta drenches Central America; at least 57 dead

• Hurricane Eta Destroys Homes, Floods Parts of Nicaragua, Honduras

• Honduras Extends State of Alert as Tropical Storm Eta Hits

• Hurricane Eta Is Making a Bad Situation in Honduras Even Worse

• More than 1.5 million children at risk due to the impact of Tropical Storm ETA in Honduras

If you wish do donate:

• My mom created a GoFundMe to help raise money to helpd our community back home! * 100% OF ALL FUNDS WILL GO TO THEM!

• Hurricane Eta Disaster Relief for Honduras

• Red Cross: you can text the word “HURRICANES” to 90999 to make a $10 donation

• Hurricane ETA in Honduras - help those impacted

• Operación Eta

• This person is recollecting donations to help her community that was deeply impacted by the hurricane.

• International Garifuna Council’s Hurricane Relief- you can donate to the Garifuna community through the Council’s paypal, garinagugac@gmail.com

• Feeding strays in Honduras

• Ruth Paz Foundation Fundraiser

Here’s a carrd with more fundraiser links!

** IF YOU SEE ANY DONATION LINKS LINKED TO THE GOVERNMENT DO NOT DONATE THERE. THEY WILL USE THOSE DONATIONS FOR THEIR OWN BENEFIT. THE PEOPLE WILL NOT SEE OR GET THESE DONATIONS!!

Thank you so much for reading this and I know my people will get out of this one, we always do. Feel free to add more links if found, I will be adding more as soon as I get in contact with my friends back home that are organizing fundraisers for these families!

[up-to-some-good]

Part 5: 5 times I fixed it...

“Mr and Mrs Potter,” Dumbledore started. “I’m afraid I have some bad news regarding the prophecy.”

Lily had had a bad feeling when he had pulled them out of the meeting early to talk. They had heard about the prophecy a month ago, but at that point it was between her baby and Alice’s, both born at the end of July.

“He thinks it’s about Harry,” she said.

She thought of her son. He was with James’s parents at Potter manor while they were at the meeting. He had been asleep when they left for headquarters. It was hard to believe there was a target on his back.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore responded.

James took a sharp breath and pulled Lily’s into his lap, squeezing her fingers. He reached for her whenever he needed comfort; every time he found out about another casualty, he pulled her into his arms. It was a comfort to both of them, but it didn’t work this time.

“What do we do?” James asked quietly.

“I believe you should go into hiding,” Dumbledore said. “Are you aware of the Fidelius charm?”

“Yes,” Lily said. “You conceal the secret of your location in another person. You cannot be found unless that person chooses to divulge the secret, but it cannot be coerced or otherwise forced out.”

“Correct,” the old man said, his eyes twinkling.

For a moment, Lily felt like she was back at Hogwarts, answering her Professors’ questions to win back the house points the man sitting next to her had lost.

“I suggest you use it to hide your family, until all is safe,” Dumbledore said calmly.

“All due respect, Albus,” a voice came from the door. “But that is a terrible idea.”

Professor McGonagall walked into the room and passed each of the Potters a biscuit from the tray downstairs. Dumbledore gave her an indecipherable look.

“We all know there is a spy in the Order,” she continued. “You cannot guarantee the person you choose will not betray you and, even if they do not, they could be found and killed or tortured until they revealed the location.”

“What do you suggest, Professor?” Lily asked.

“Leave the country,” she said simply. “Go somewhere far away, like Australia, where there are no Death Eaters, and return when the war is over. I suggest the Longbottoms go with you as a precaution.”

“How do we stop Voldemort from simply following us? We won’t have back up in Australia if he comes for us,” James questioned.

“A simple diversion will do,” McGonagall responded. “We will place two houses under the Fidelius as if you were living there. They will serve the purpose to hide your true location without putting you at risk.”

“Who will be the secret keeper?” James asked.

“Myself and Alastor,” McGonagall said easily.

“Okay,” James said. “I trust you.”

Two days later, the Potters packed their bags and headed for the airport. They said goodbye to Euphemia and Fleamont the night before at dinner, pretending they would be reunited, but knowing the elder two would not be around much longer. Alice and Frank met them at the airport with Neville and gave them tight hugs. No one in the Order, not even the other marauders, knew where the families were going, just that they would be in hiding for the foreseeable future.

“Ready to go?” Frank asked.

“As much as we can be,” Lily said.

The six passed through the airport and boarded the plane together, disappearing for the next year.

***  

When he arrived at the flat, Sirius poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey and retreated to his bedroom. James and Lily had been gone for a month and things were getting harder. The remaining marauders were always on separate missions, gone for days at a time and not telling each other where they were going.

Remus came back injured and held on to Sirius as tightly as he could when he came back, but they didn’t talk. Sirius loved him as much as he ever had but wondered how much longer he could go without knowing what Remus was doing or telling Remus what he was doing.

Peter did nothing but talk, guessing who the spy was and changing his opinion daily. The day he suggested Remus, Sirius asked him to move out of the apartment. He had to trust Remus and Peter. They were all he had left without the Potters.

A sound from the living room startled him. Someone had apparated into the flat, someone unexpected. Remus always apparated outside the front door, so his boyfriend wasn’t back, and Peter always sent an owl ahead, so it couldn’t be him.

He grabbed his wand and stormed into the living room to find –

Regulus, lying on the floor and drenched. He looked like he was breathing, but the strain of apparating had clearly knocked him out. There was some sort of locket clutched in his hands.

“Merlin,” Sirius said, running to crouch at his brother’s side.

He started casting every healing and warming spell he could think of, grateful for Remus’s lycanthropy for the first time. Regulus was a known Death Eater so Sirius shouldn’t have been helping him. He was his little brother, though, and he couldn’t watch him die on his living room carpet.

Eventually, Regulus started awake, sitting up rapidly and nearly collapsing again from the effort. Sirius caught him before he fell and moved him carefully to the sofa.

“Sirius?” he asked weakly.

“What the hell happened, Reg?” he asked.

Regulus started laughing, leaning his head back on one of the throw pillows. Bewildered, Sirius watched his brother laugh hysterically for a few minutes before he calmed down and looked back at him.

“I should be dead,” he said eventually. “I thought for sure apparating to a place I barely remember from underwater would kill me, if the inferi didn’t first.”

“What are you talking about?”

Regulus didn’t answer. Instead he sat up and threw the locket at Sirius, who caught it easily.

“What do you know about horcruxes, Siri?” he asked tiredly.

Within the next few days, Regulus repeated his story multiple times, to Dumbledore, Remus, Moody, and any other Order member who wanted to hear it. He wanted to join the Order, help with the hunt for horcruxes, but few trusted him.

“I’ll swear an Unbreakable Vow,” he said eventually. “I’ll vow that I won’t betray the Order, that I’ll be loyal.”

Dumbledore agreed and, once the spell was cast, Regulus was welcomed into the Order of the Phoenix.

Everyone’s missions were cancelled, unless absolutely necessary, in lieu of the hunt for horcruxes. Dumbledore guessed at the number and objects and sent them out to look for them. Within a few months, the Order had gathered the cup, locket, diadem, diary and ring after a few daring missions and one small, albeit destructive, heist from Gringotts.

“Now what?” Sirius asked. “How do we get rid of them?”

“There are two known methods,” came the calm answer from Dumbledore. “Basilisk venom or Fiendfyre.”

“So we’re fucked?” Remus asked incredulously. “Unless someone as a pet Basilisk they’d like to share?”

“There’s rumoured to be one at Hogwarts,” Regulus said mildly. “But I don’t know where.”

The Order looked at the objects on the table and collectively sighed. The few months tracking them down meant nothing if they couldn’t destroy them.

“Anyone have a house they’re willing to burn down?” Remus asked the room eventually. “Preferably one with an astounding amount of protective charms so we don’t have to cast them?”

Sirius and Regulus shared a look. Walburga Black had died just a month ago, leaving Grimmauld Place entirely empty. Orion had been an especially paranoid man, so the house had always been protected with every charm he could find. Neither of them wanted the house and they had already set Kreacher free – it was perfect.

“Actually,” Regulus said. “I think we do.”

Watching the house burn was incredible, skulls rising from the smoke as Voldemort’s soul died in the fire. It was almost fun – until the Death Eaters arrived.

A fierce battle started, everyone fighting to get to the centre, where Voldemort himself was fighting Dumbledore. Sirius stood with his back against Remus’s, righting Bellatrix and Rowle simultaneously. Remus was engaged with Yaxley and Malfoy, occasionally shooting a jinx at Goyle, busy fighting Regulus.

Across from them, Peter and Snape were engaged in a duel, neither of them focused on anything around them. Unexpectedly, Peter stunned Snape and moved on. Even more, unexpectedly, he joined Sirius’s duel – on the Death Eaters’ side.

“You little rat, Pettigrew,” he yelled. “How could you?”

“You’re not going to win, Black,” Peter yelled. “Last chance to switch sides!”

“Fuck you,” Sirius sneered.

A second later, everything changed. Dumbledore landed the killing shot and Voldemort crumpled. Bellatrix pointed her wand at a distracted Sirius. He yelled in pain and fell to his knees, but she didn’t let up, keeping her focus on torturing her cousin as if he were personally responsible for her master’s death. Peter cursed Remus before disapparating with the other Death Eaters as Moody began stunning everyone in sight.

Remus collapsed next to Sirius, blood pouring from the cuts on his chest.

“Avada kedavra!”

A green beam of light hit Bellatrix in the chest, she and Sirius collapsed simultaneously, the latter panting and shaking.

“I never liked her,” Regulus said mildly, pocketing his wand.

Sirius and Remus woke up to a sound in the living room a week later. They had left the hospital a day before, both of them still exhausted and still in pain, but alive. They slowly got up and grabbed their wands before padding to the living room, where they were tackled into a group hug by a flash of red hair.

“Lily,” Sirius said breathlessly, hugging her tighter. “You’re back.”

He pulled away and looked up to see James, holding Harry, who was almost a toddler at this point.

“We’re back,” James said quietly.

[minijenn]

Keys Comm #5

Woooo baby we got a big ol bundle of angst with this comm. Its for an anonymous commissioner, who wanted some angsty interactions between Sora and Young Xehanort following (spoilers?) Sora officially joining the Organization in Keys. This is a pretty fun dynamic to explore (its why its popped up in the last two chapters cause I think its fascinating), so enjoy the angstfest ahead (also if you reblog this do not tag any ships bc thats not what this is if you do i will scratch your eyes out k thanx!)

***

Even though he’s died on more than one occasion, Sora has never felt closer to death’s door than he does now. Now that he’s following his foes willingly, walking through the gates of a castle he’d once stormed as a conquering hero. Only to return as nothing more than a lowly slave.

Ansem and Xemnas head off in separate ways not long after they arrive, leaving Sora alone with Young Xehanort. The young master turns to him with his usual calm grin, though it's tinged with a touch of smug satisfaction that Sora might have once found sickening. But now, he can only incline his head in forced respect for his master, listening in solemn silence to whatever it is he has to say.

“Welcome to your true home, my thirteenth,” he says cordially. “After your last visit here, I trust you know your way around, so I’ll spare you the grand tour. I will, however, gladly show you to your room.”

Sora glances up at this, caught off guard. “...My room?”

“Of course,” Young Xehanort beckons him to follow as he continues on through the castle’s grayscale halls. “Did you really think we’d be barbaric enough to force our most invaluable member to sleep in a dungeon cell?”

“That’s… exactly what I was thinking…” Sora mutters, glancing down.

“I know,” Young Xehanort returns, reminding him yet again that his thoughts are essentially an open book to be read by his master, both old and young alike. “Still, I’m sure you’ll appreciate the room we’ve prepared for you. It used to belong to our previous thirteenth member, you know.”

Sora’s gaze snaps up when he hears this, a pang of grief tugging at his heart at even this indirect mention of Roxas. At even just the thought of any of the beloved friends he’s now lost forever. That grief stings even more when he steps through the threshold of the chamber Young Xehanort takes him to, a clean, largely vacant bedroom that he can all too easily imagine Roxas occupying. A bedroom that’s meant for the Organization’s thirteenth member, both back then… and even now.

“You can take all the time you’d like to settle in later,” Young Xehanort says, still standing in the doorway. “Your induction ceremony is set to begin shortly, and you mustn’t be late for it.”

“I-induction?” Sora glances back at him, confused.

“A way for you to formally accept your place among your fellow members,” Young Xehanort explains. “Believe me when I say they’re all very eager to welcome you into the fold, Sora. However, you will not stand before your Organization wearing that.”

Sora looks down at his usual clothes, already anticipating where this is likely going. Even so, he tries to bite back the rising dread when he asks the obvious question. “What will I be wearing then?”

Young Xehanort’s former grin returns as a bundle of black fabric appears over his outstretched arm. Sora takes in a small, sharp breath when he sees it, the final piece to tie his hideous new appearance together, meant to show exactly what side he stands on now. The side of darkness, the side of his master, the side of Organization XIII.

Sora says nothing as he takes the coat, staring down at it in muted despair. Of course, Young Xehanort only serves to rub salt in the wound with what he has to say next. “Wear it with pride, my thirteenth. It was made to help you to look the part of the role you’re very soon about to play.”

“...What “part” is that anyway?” Sora dares to ask, even though he knows he shouldn’t. “Now that I’m here, don’t I at least deserve to finally know why you chose me and what you want me to do?”

“You’ve already been told why,” Young Xehanort tells him as he turns to leave. “As for what… you’ll learn that in due time, my thirteenth. For now, you have an hour to prepare for your ceremony. I’ll be back to collect you when you’re ready. And remember: everything from the life you knew before must be cast off before you step into our ranks. You belong to us now, Sora; never forget that.”

“I-I won’t… master,” Sora replies, wishing with every fiber of freedom his ruined mind and broken heart has left that he could.

“Very good,” Young Xehanort says, still smiling as he leaves his thirteenth vessel to himself. True to his word, he returns exactly an hour later, and is visibly pleased to see Sora fully clad in his new black coat, finally ready to perfectly fit in among his fellow seekers of darkness.

“Our attire suits you well, Sora,” Young Xehanort notes as he looks over his newest vessel. “Isn’t this much better than those ridiculous clothes the lights gave you to wear?”

Sora doesn’t answer; instead, he glances back at those clothes, folded neatly on the bed behind him. Young Xehanort notices them too, as well as the look of longing written all over Sora’s face. Longing for something he can no longer be a part of. “I’ll dispose of those for you,” he offers, extending a hand out to receive them.

Sora hesitates, his sights still set on the clothes before he briefly offers his master a morose, pleading glance. “C-can I keep them? Please?”

“Really?” Young Xehanort raises a critical eyebrow at this request. “You wish to keep something that will only ever serve to remind you of all of the pain and turmoil you’ve been through? Didn’t you come here to escape the grief the loss of the lights left you with? Wouldn’t you much rather forget about the life you left behind? Don’t you want a fresh start, Sora? A clean slate? A new beginning with your new family?”

No, Sora desperately wants to say, but he doesn’t. He knows he can’t; because whatever family he used to have and love so dearly is long gone now. And the only one he has left is a family he never once thought he’d be a part of. Until now. “Y-yes,” he says softly, a single tear streaking down his cheek. “I do…”

“Then let us go so that family can receive you,” Young Xehanort says, his hand still held out. “But first, your old clothes.” Sora hesitantly nods, slowly taking the clothes from his bed before handing them over to the young master, his hands trembling all the while. “You may not believe it yet, my thirteenth,” Young Xehanort continues, urging Sora onward down the hall. “But you truly do belong here with us. At long last, you’re finally home.”

Sora says nothing to this, his head hung in saddened silence as he begins his solemn march to his long-awaited induction ceremony. Young Xehanort lingers behind for a moment as a dark corridor appears behind him and Saïx steps out of it, exactly as he requested. “Burn these,” the young master coldly commands, handing Sora’s old clothes over to the other member before he continues on his way. “I never want to see them again.”

***

Sora quickly finds that in a world with no real passage of time, the days blend together in a dull, dreary drudgery. He isn’t given any specific tasks to carry out like his fellow members are, with his master merely explaining that his true role is meant to be carried out “at a later time”. So instead, he’s largely left to his own devices. And most of that idle time is spent alone in his room, overwhelmed by grief as he openly despairs over everything that he so swiftly lost.

That grief hardly stays contained to his room however. His powers react to his immense misery, blackened spikes bursting from the gray ground not just in his chambers, but throughout the hallway surrounding it too. Complaints begin to file in from the other members, who find the unbreakable spires to be a gaudy nuisance at best and an impassable obstacle to getting around their own home at worst. And those complaints are what prompts Young Xehanort to pay his newest vessel a visit in the hopes of nipping this newfound problem in the bud.

He enters his thirteenth’s room without knocking, finding Sora sitting on his bed, his knees pulled to his chest and his face buried in them as he weeps softly. Countless black spikes litter the area surrounding him, all but destroying the once pristine room. Young Xehanort scowls as he steps past one of those spikes, interrupting his vessel’s despondent sobs when he speaks up.

“Why are you still mourning over the past?” he asks and Sora glances up with a startled gasp, his eyes still red with tears. “It’s been 2 weeks since you’ve joined our ranks, my thirteenth. You must learn to move on.”

“I-I… I can’t…” Sora looks away, his voice quiet and pained. “I miss them so much…”

“No, you don’t,” Young Xehanort counters as he approaches the bed. “What you miss is the memory of how you felt about them. If you let those feelings go, then you can finally find the strength to move forward.”

“I… I don’t know how to let them go…” Sora admits, leaving out the fact that he doesn’t want to let them go either. That he doesn’t want to forget them or how he felt about them or how much he loved them, how much he still loves them, even now that they’re all long gone.

“Then allow me to show you,” Young Xehanort extends a hand out. And despite his better judgement, it's a hand that Sora anxiously takes as he lets his master ease him into properly sitting up.

“The lesson you need to learn here is a simple one,” Young Xehanort begins, taking a seat on the bed next to him. “Your emotions weigh you down; they always have, and if you continue to let them get the better of you, they always will. You’ve been letting those emotions, your fear, your grief, your worry, cloud your mind and rule your heart. Your magic thus responds to them in turn, making your powers chaotic and uncontrollable.” He places a hand against one of the several spikes surrounding them. “Stopping those emotions from coming completely will take much time and practice for someone as young as you, but you can accomplish it eventually. In the meantime, you can start by suppressing them. And in doing so, you can finally begin to truly live the new life I’ve so generously given to you.”

Sora stays silent for a long moment upon hearing all this, trying to soak it all in. His tears have stopped by now as he finally takes stock of the mess his magic has made of his room, at the disastrous danger he’s always known his powers to pose. He tries to call them back in, but with his sadness still stirring so strongly within him, he finds it to be a largely impossible feat. Unless… “Suppress them?” he looks to his master, lost and confused. “Y-you mean… pretend I don’t feel… anything anymore?”

“Precisely,” Young Xehanort nods. “Pretend… until everyone around you believes in the mask you’ve put on. Until you believe in it yourself. And when you do, suddenly you’ll find that you won’t even have to pretend any longer. The mask will become real.”

This kind of advice is something that’s entirely new to Sora. All his life, he’s been told that his emotions are important, that they matter, that they’re what make him strong, what make him bold, what make him human. But now, he’s being told to throw those emotions away, to cast them off and put on the same mask of cold indifference that every other one of his fellow members so easily wears. It’s not a mask he wants, nor is it one he welcomes; but if it can numb the pain he still so powerfully feels, at least in some small way, then it's a mask he knows he might as well wear. At least until he doesn’t have to anymore.

So he closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath, and forces those emotions back into the depths of his heart. For as difficult as it might be, he somehow shoves the grief, the guilt, the pain, all of it under the surface, just as his master had said. And, when he opens his eyes again, he finds that every single one of the spikes his emotions had unintentionally created… is gone.

“I… it worked…” he balks, genuinely surprised.

“So it did,” Young Xehanort nods his approval. “But this is just the start of what you could do if you learned to truly control your powers, Sora. Your magic is very unique, so strong, yet so untamed in its current state. The lights wanted you to lock that magic, that part of yourself that’s so natural and so special, away simply because they deemed it to be ‘dangerous’. But here in the darkness, you’re free to wield those powers however and whenever you please. You’re finally free to be yourself.”

Free… not to express his emotions anymore, but his powers in their place. And really, now that he’s come all this way and has started settling into his place among the shadows, that’s exactly what Sora realizes he needs to do. To embrace who he is now… and leave behind whoever he used to be.

“P-please,” he begins, looking to his master earnestly. “I want to… I’ve never been able to…” he trails off, shaking his head as he steadies himself and starts his request again. “C-can you show me how to use my powers the right way, master?”

Young Xehanort grins broadly, a spark of what almost seems like pride flashing across his face as he places a hand on his newest vessel’s shoulder. “Oh, my thirteenth,” he says, his grip on the boy tightening ever so slightly as he speaks. “I would be more than happy to.”

***

Sora does what he can to avoid the other Organization members. He isn’t fond of the idea of forming a friendly relationship with any of his foes-turned-allies, and he’s certain just about all of them feel the same. So he mostly keeps to himself, only really leaving his room for the sake of magic lessons with his master and to fetch some food every few times a day. For the most part, he isn’t bothered by any of the other members he happens to pass by on his way to the castle’s kitchen. A few, such as Vexen or Demyx, will sometimes shoot him dirty looks, but otherwise won’t say anything to him. But of course, today on his way to get something for lunch, he’s unfortunate enough to quite literally run into two of the members who openly hate him most.

He’s largely lost in his own thoughts when he rounds a corner, only to collide squarely into Larxene. “Ugh! Stupid brat!” she hisses, harshly shoving Sora to the ground. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?!”

“Now, now, Larxene,” Marluxia says as he steps in to stand alongside her. “We shouldn’t be so rude to our newest member. After all, I’m sure it's very hard for him to focus on much of anything other than how much he misses his dearest, now-dead friends…”

“Pfft,” Larxene snorts out a laugh. “Yeah, poor little kiddo must be soooo lonely.” She grins wickedly as she suddenly reaches down, grabbing Sora by the front of his coat and pulling him up off the ground. “If you’re that bummed out, why don’t we keep you company for awhile?”

“N-no thanks,” Sora shudders, trying his best to pull away from Larxene’s surprisingly tight grip. “You really don’t have to-”

“Nonsense,” Marluxia says with a smug smirk to perfectly match Larxene’s. “We’d be remiss if we didn’t take the opportunity to spend some… quality time with our newest member. And besides-” Sora gasps in sudden fear when Marluxia summons his deadly scythe, Larxene’s knives flashing into her free hand as she holds them up threateningly. “We both have some unfinished business with you, number thirteen.”

Larxene abruptly throws him to the ground once more, calling upon a dark barrier in the space behind Sora to keep him from slipping away. “Aw, don’t look so scared, Sora,” she chuckles as both her and Marluxia brandish their weapons. “We just wanna have a little fun with you…”

“Fun indeed…” Marluxia agrees, drawing the tip of his scythe in dangerously close to Sora. “And perhaps… just a little payback too…”

Sora is unable to stifle a pained cry as the scythe suddenly rips across the right side of his jaw, creating a long, deep cut that tears all the way up toward his nose. The blood from it leaks across the rest of his face, to the point that he accidentally catches a taste of the bitter fluid when it inevitably leaks into his mouth. He doesn’t get a chance to nurse the new wound however, before a sharp, brutal shock ripples its way through his body, sending him flying back hard into the barrier behind him. Larxene laughs in twisted amusement as she keeps her electrifying magic pouring into him, until he quickly reaches the point where he can’t bear the agony of it any longer.

“S-stop!” he cries in the seconds between shocks. “P-please… stop…”

“You’ve resorted to begging for mercy?” Marluxia sneers unsympathetically. “And just when I thought you couldn’t get any more pathetic.”

“Seriously, what are you? Some kind of dumb dog that thinks those sad little puppy eyes of yours will convince us to cut you some slack? Please,” Larxene scoffs, raising her knives to toss them his way. “Get over yourself. You might have gotten lucky enough to beat us both before, but you’re nothing now.”

“Nothing more than a shadow of who you used to be,” Marluxia adds, raising his scythe high for another painful strike. Sora braces himself for the brunt of both attacks, closing his eyes and shielding himself away from the vicious torture they both intend to put him through. And yet in the end, those attacks never come.

He opens his eyes seconds later when he hears the sounds of Marluxia and Larxene’s weapons striking solid metal. The pair winces in apt surprise when Young Xehanort fends them off, using a bit of his own dark magic to swiftly shove them both away. He stands in the space between the duo and Sora, his Keyblade called upon seemingly for the purpose of defending his newest vessel from their violent ire.

“Do you two really have nothing better to do with your time than harass our newest member?” he scowls coldly at Marluxia and Larxene as they begin to pick themselves back up from his brutal attack.

“W-we were just-”

“I know exactly what you were doing,” Young Xehanort abruptly cuts Larxene off. “Whatever disdain you might harbor for our thirteenth must be put behind you. He is one of us now, and I expect you to treat him as such. Do you both understand or is that too much for your simple minds to comprehend?”

Marluxia and Larxene exchange frustrated glance at this, both of them clearly humbled and embarrassed by their young master’s admonishment. In the end, however, Larxene crosses her arms, simply nodding as she glares away. Marluxia is similarly bitter as he offers his answer aloud. “Yes, master.”

“Then in that case, you’re both dismissed to return to your actual duties instead of wasting your time standing around here,” Young Xehanort instructs, dismissively waving them both away.

The pair quickly retreats after this, though not before they both look past Young Xehanort to offer Sora one final hateful glare. He only barely hears Larxene hiss something about him being “master’s pet” to Marluxia before they round the next corner, finally leaving him alone with that master once more.

“I apologize for the misguided hostility of your fellow members, Sora,” Young Xehanort turns to him, extending a hand out to help him up. “It seems as though some of them are having a hard time letting the past go. Are you alright?”

As shaken as he still is by the recent attack, Sora struggles to collect himself enough to do much of anything else outside of accepting the hand his young master is offering to him. “I… y-you… you saved me…” he mutters, bewildered by the very thought.

“Of course, I did,” Young Xehanort offers him a cordial, almost kindly smile. “You’ve suffered more than enough by now. There is no need for you to suffer any more, especially at the hands of your own allies. You’ve been through enough of that when you were back with the lights, I’m sure.”

Sora sighs at this mention of his lost friends, though he maintains his mask well enough as he lightly traces the scar now marring most of his face. He flinches when Young Xehanort suddenly reaches out to touch it too, though as soon as his fingers so much as skim the still-bleeding cut, his skin weaves itself back together, the pain that it caused him all but disappearing completely.

“There,” the young master tilts his vessel’s chin up a bit to inspect his now-clean face. “Like it never happened. After a few more of our lessons together, I’m sure you’ll be more than capable of defending yourself against the petty wrath fellow members might decide to inflict against you. But until then, you can depend on me to protect you, my thirteenth.”

Even against the emotions he’s still trying to keep hidden under the mask, Sora can’t help but feel something he can’t believe he has toward his young master of all people. A sense of genuine gratitude, a deep, genuine gratefulness for the protection Young Xehanort is offering him, for the kindness he’s extended toward him in a time when he so desperately needs it most. In the absence of anyone he might have once sought that same sort of kindness from instead. “T-thank you… master,” he whispers, bowing his head in respect that, perhaps for the first time, is completely earnest, completely on his own accord.

“Think nothing of it, my thirteenth,” Young Xehanort’s smile widens in the satisfaction of knowing he now has Sora exactly where he wants him. In knowing that he now owns every part of his thirteenth vessel: body, heart, and mind alike. “After all, it’s my job to warmly welcome you into our ranks. And I’m so glad to see that you're finally starting to feel like you’re right at home here with us. With me.”

Commissions are CLOSED

[max-and-oliver]

Resilience of Stonewall

By: Max Dupuy

What are the Stonewall Riots? On the 28th of June in 1969, members of the LGBTQ+ (Lesbian, Gay, Bi, Trans, Questioning, Other) community came together and started to protest against the ignorance of their government officials. These people came together at the earliest time of the day and marched together to fight back against the prejudism they had received. Yet, what caused these groups to snap and wish to take a stand for themselves? Lives being taken were what caused these people to rise.

In Greenwich Village, NYC, members of the LGBTQ+ community were being killed in their own places of comfort. Police had stormed into a gay bar by the name of ‘Stonewall’ and murdered several people who were simply trying to have a good time. Out of rage for their cries going unspoken to the government from the actions caused by the police, the LGBTQ+ community came together from across America and ensured their cries would be heard. These people did everything they could to be heard and soon were noticed by how large the movement had spread across America. Knowing the community was always going to bounce back for action, the government passed LGBTQ+ rights acts when the early twentieth century arrived.

Everyone who died from the Stonewall Riots is still remembered by the LGBTQ+ community and are thought of as brave. In honor of the lives lost, many people put out memorials for the ones who were lost. Some even go to the New York pride, simply due to how the resilience started in New York and would continue there until every right is given.

Today marks 50 years since 1969 when these riots took place. Let’s hope that in the end, those 50 years will be worth it and every member of the community will be safe from history ever repeating itself. Because though the brave will be missed, memories can only go on as we push forward and make sure the future generations are protected.

Words in the poem that may not be known:

Wingding- A lively party

Resilience of Stonewall

Booms heard across the nation,

Light the sky of a thousand fires-

As pleads for help shook the ground.

Boots of many stomped through the station,

Straying in a place of freedom,

Only to wipe the area clean of joyful celebration.

Shrieks filled the silent night,

A hurricane of discourse as people took cover-

Terrified for what had come around them.

Stripping away several rights,

Friends and family members fell to the ground,

As their lives were taken in the streetlight.

Sobs filled the once joyful town,

People desperately clutched their loved ones-

Only to carry their coffins the next day.

You forced the people to be let down,

Bearing not even a second glance to merciful,

But now the resilience will not drown.

Dawn light illuminated the skies like a fire,

Setting the sky to run red with the boiling rage-

Of both the ghosts and living alike.

Ready to ensure the violence would expire,

People marched everywhere with their heads held high,

Ready to bring on the peace they require.

Now as the years trickle by,

Several wingdings shake the nation-

As rights are handed to those who deserve it.

People’s kindness are applied,

Raising awareness without a second thought,

Ready to give the future the same resilience.

[potassium-pilot]

Prompt 27: Benthos

Why am I back here again, Dia thought.

There was no reason, really. It felt right to her. Whatever the others might say of this place, whatever horrors she experienced here, Amaurot fascinated her. She traversed the city and listened to them, to her people…or to the people that she once knew, at least.

Why would Emet-Selch allow them their opinions still? Why would he not want them all to simply agree with the course of action taken by the Convocation? Would it have not made him feel more justified to rewrite history? These were questions that plagued her when she thought of Amaurot.

“This place creeps me out, you know”, Ardbert commented.

“Noted. Now where do you think we should go next?”

“Ishgard, if you would.”

“Before that.”

“Urgh, I don’t understand you sometimes. Why can’t it be as simple as, ‘This place is creepy and dark and made by an Ascian; perhaps we should avoid it.’”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s more than that, and you know it. This was…our home once.”

“No, it’s a recreation of Azem’s home. It’s dead, Dia. Dead and gone.”

“I’m aware of that, thank you. I also watched the Final Days and we’re apparently due for a repeat. That doesn’t mean that a recreation can’t be found intriguing.”

“It can if you let it.”

She kept walking past Macarenses Angle. Azem’s crystal seemed to pulse as she walked in the same rhythm. She seemed to want something, to add her own voice.

“Azem, no more kissy-face with Emet-Selch, I’m begging you”, Dia whispered softly as she gripped the stone in her inventory. She bound for a nearby bench, and took a seat. The familiar pull of the past taking her away embraced her.

*********

“On that note, I would like to draw this meeting to a close.”

Emet-Selch’s voice rang across the assembly hall. The fourteen stood in respect before he dismissed them.

Azem dreamed of the day they would finally intervene, recognize that their duty to the world has always been plain. The circumstances which led them to this point, however, devastated her. Her fellow convocation members, her friends, her family- all of them were in danger. She needed to protect them, and although the matter was grave indeed, it was strangely refreshing for her to see the Convocation finally acknowledge the threat at their doorstep.

The solution was anything but.

A dark primal concept?! Azem thought, They want to kill half of Amaurot to save Amaurot?! Unacceptable! That won’t save anyone! The dark primals only want more power, more aether! Their dark primal won’t rest until it’s consumed everything whole. I saw it happen with the other primal concepts, bless Lahabrea’s heart; I will not see this primal of theirs consume everything I hold dear.

To that end, she marched to the office of Elidibus, and knocked on his door.

“Enter”, he called.

She opened the door and greeted him with a typical wave and smile. “Can we talk? Just you and me?”

“I’m a bit busy at the moment, but I can certainly find the time for you. What do you need, Azem?”

Azem stepped forward and took her seat. “That was…a more emotionally charged debate than I was prepared for”, she tried to calm herself with humor, and Elidibus gave a light laugh in return. “Indeed. I suppose the Final Days do bring out a different side of all of us. You paid attention in a meeting for once.”

“I know. I never thought it would come to this”, she joked before asking in a more serious tone, “But…are you okay?”

“I’m better than okay. I have a chance here, Azem. We have a chance. We can save Amaurot.”

“But…can we though?”

“Azem, we debated this for hours. Half of Amaurot is better than complete engulfment.”

She argued the point as firmly as she ever could have, which meant little compared to the masters of debate she encountered regularly. Primals demand much and more, and drain power and aether. Dark primals demand sacrifice, in particular. Unfortunately, she exhausted all arguments in the assembly hall. She had no rational argument left within her to turn them away from such an irrational solution.

“And we’ll use what’s left to bring them back.”

She had also argued that what these primals can bring back will be nothing more than husks; the amaurotines would be long gone.

Especially Elidibus.

“But why you?”

“What do you mean, Azem?”

“Elidibus, if you become the heart of this primal, that’s it. There’s no going back. You’ll be consumed whole, left with nothing to show for it. The only thing that could even have a shred of you is…” she didn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“If I use the power of the primal to recreate my form, as we discussed.”

Azem shook her head, her face growing hot. “Elidibus, that won’t be you. That’ll be a creature, an abomination with one sole purpose.”

“Better that than to leave Amaurot in the hands of calamity.”

Damn this mask, she thought as her tears stung her eyes. She stood up, and stepped to his side, making Elidbus turn to her and gawk at her clear breach of Convocation etiquette. She fell to one knee, and took his hands.

“Please, Elidibus”, she choked out through the lump in her throat, “I don’t want you to die. You’re so young. You have so much potential. You have a future ahead of you, my friend.” Her voiced shuddered before she begged him, “Reconsider, give me time to think of a better solution. Stand with me as I’ve stood with you before.” Her tears were contagious, as the young amaurotine felt his own well up too.

“I’m sorry, Azem. But time is so precious, so valuable. My future means nothing if all I hold dear is brought to ruin.”

Her tears dripped behind her mask and rolled down her cheeks.

“Damn it all”, she seethed, and ripped the mask of her face to wipe away her tears. The face she kept from her young friend for so many years laid bare in front of him.

“Elidibus, look at me.”

“I-I am…”

“No, I mean without the mask. Please. I may never have this chance again. I beg you.”

He hesitated.

He thought back through the years. He respected her, treated her like a sister as she treated him like a brother. They dined together, enjoyed their leisure time together, she knew his family as he knew hers. Yet through it all, he did not remove the mask in front of her. It felt akin to baring himself naked to her.

But when he stared into her eyes and witnessed the sorrow emanate from her soul, the choice became clear.

He removed his mask and revealed to her the hazel eyes and cherub cheeks he concealed. It only agitated her further to see the man- barely a man- that would become Zodiark’s heart.

“I will not sit by and align myself with this madness. I will not associate myself with the end of our very star. If the Convocation should move forward with the proposal to summon this dark primal…I will resign.”

His tears burned in his eyes, and he wiped them away with his hands. “Don’t do this, Azem!” he sobbed, “Don’t make me choose between my loved ones and my world!”

“I chose my world when I argued against the summoning. Your loved ones are in this world, Elidibus.”

“Don’t you see I have no choice?!”

“You have a choice, Elidibus, and I beg you to make the right one!”

“I will not forsake my duty, Azem!”

There, the line was drawn in fire. Azem and Elidibus stood on opposite sides of it, and watched the past burn.

She turned her back to him and replaced her mask on her face.

“Then it would appear our business is concluded”, she stated coldly.

The door opened and closed. The rustle of her robe as she stormed out was the last thing he heard before he sunk his head into his arms as they crossed on his desk and cried softly into them. The salt water stained his desk.

The memories flashed too quickly for Dia to keep up, but the last memory was clear; Azem clutched a white robe and red mask, and wept into the cloth.

********

The tug of the past released itself from Dia’s soul and she returned to Emet-Selch’s paradise.

“It would appear the burden of Azem has unveiled itself to you.”

Dia jerked her head to her right and met her gaze with Hythlodaeus.

“Hello, my new old friend.” She couldn’t help but smile. “Hello to you, Hythlodaeus. How are you?”

“I am well. Forgive me for startling you; I was merely curious as to how the stone fares with you, and if it grants you the wisdom I had hoped it would.”

She let out a light laugh. “Yes and no.”

The amaurotine hummed. “Helios was capable of balancing her impulsive nature with implacable wisdom. This made her a great fit for the seat of Azem along with her combat prowess. Perhaps this was why Hades loved her so; his impulsiveness rivaled hers, thus do I find myself at the bottom of the sea.”

“You know where we are?”

“It’s difficult not to draw conclusions when fish people occasionally wander in.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“Did you know Elidibus, Hythlodaeus?”

“Not as well as I knew dear Hades, but I knew him. Helios loved inviting him over for drinks, the occasional card game, and park outing. He followed Helios like a lost puppy, and it drove Hades crazy.” Dia laughed at his recollection. Hythlodaeus turned his head to face the ground in front of him.

“When Elidibus sacrificed himself, she lost more than just him. Hades was also corrupted to Zodiark’s influence to the point where he never appeared in the apartment again. She knew only sorrow, and I could only be of such comfort.” He moved his gaze to hers.

“Dia, I barely know you, yet I can see you’ve suffered great loss and sacrifice. I can only hope you can keep those you hold dear. I can only hope that you will live a happy life. Most of all, I can only hope that those who find you dear shall keep you close. Already do I find myself holding you dear…both of you.”

“What?”

“I speak of the other piece of you that resides within; a strange thing, it is. He’s not rejoined with your soul, yet he’s perfectly aligned with it”, Hythlodaeus explained.

“Oh good, it can see me. Just the thing to give me nightmares”, complained Ardbert.

“He need not fear. Much like Hades, I am gifted with the ability to see souls. I mean no harm.” Dia couldn’t help but find herself amused at his squeamishness with the amaurotines.

“I see. Thank you, Hythlodaeus.” She rose from the park bench. “As a matter of fact, I need to tend to the ones I hold dear now.”

“Of course. May we cross paths again soon, my new old friend.”

She nodded with a bright smile and prepared Teleport.

“Thank the gods we’re leaving”, praised Ardbert.

Cram it, she whispered.

***********

The night sky glazed over the Source. It was 10pm and Dia only just left the Syrcus Trench. She called upon her black chocobo to carry her to the Rising Stones. The doors flung open at her command and she walked past them with what confidence she could muster.

“Ah, Dia, I expected you to be in Ishgard. Is aught amiss?” greeted Alphinaud. He sat at a table near the bar alongside Alisaie and G’raha with a deck of Triple Triad cards.

“Oh, uh, well, I had hoped to speak with you in private, but if you’re busy…”

“Nonsense. I’m happy to make time for you. That said, must it be in private?”

She thought about it for a moment. “I mean…I guess it’s not anything particularly sensitive…”

“Anything you can say to Alphinaud, you can say to me”, Alisaie added.

“As well as I”, G’raha chimed in.

She didn’t expect an audience, but she was presented with little choice.

“Very well”, Dia took in a big breath through her nose and let it out through mouth. “I just want to say…I want you to be okay, Alphinaud.”

His eyebrows furled in confusion.

“Sixteen summers is far too young to be dealing with any of this. Hells, when I lost my fathers to the Calamity, I could barely keep myself together and I was twenty-five.”

“You lost your fathers to the Calamity?” G’raha asked.

This shocked the other two as well. For as long as they’ve known her, they knew surprisingly little of her past before she joined the Scions.

“It’s not the point. My point is, you have experienced so much loss, and pain, and betrayal. The people you’ve lost, the things you’ve seen; no one your age should be subjected to such things, and yet you are, and yet you grow stronger for it. I want you know that I see you, Alphinaud. I see you and I am so proud of you. But I don’t want you to bear it by yourself.”

Alphinaud wiped his building tears away with his sleeve. “I don’t bear it alone”, he explained, “I never have. I’ve had you. You’ve been my beacon when the light of the dawn grows dim. You’ve been an anchor to keep me aweigh where I would find myself adrift. We’ve shared these burdens together, and I promise, wherever we go, we will always share them.” She couldn’t help, but drop down and wrap the young one into her arms. The other two rose from their seats and piled themselves onto the pair. Dia and Alphinaud released the floodgates onto each others shoulders, quietly sniffling.

“We fight together. These burdens shall be lifted by all of us”, said G’raha, “Come what may, we need not fight alone.”

“Dia, in the past, you’ve fought these battles in solitude, but our future will be shaped by all of us fighting at your side.”

They enjoyed this rare moment of closeness together. Dia’s not one for sentimentality, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wanted him to know.

Elidibus, I’m sorry you were led to make such a decision and that Azem couldn’t be there. That you should bear the burden of the ancient world at such a young age is a tragedy no one should experience. But I will make it right with this one.

This one will not walk alone.

[hobbitsnapes]

The heart of the Scout Regiment part 2

A mini Levi Ackerman story

Summary: Since the beginning of the survey corps, not one member has changed the group like she did, if only they knew, what one persons heart, could change them all.

Not every mission goes off without a hitch, there were always times where there was nothing they could do, nothing she could do, to prevent the ever looming death.

There were 2 fallen soldiers today, both that she shed a few tears for each. She had gotten better with it over time, less distraught each time. But there was still a deep pain she felt, for she thought of them as her family.

She did manage to save many others though, but in the process, she injured her left ankle. It wasn’t broken, but she knew as soon as she felt the shooting pain go up her leg, that it was trouble.

It wasn’t as bad as she initially thought, after being checked at by medics, she found out it was just a sprained ankle. She was informed that she’d have to be off that foot for roughly about a week, depending upon how it’s feeling it could be even longer.

With the help of her teammates, she managed to almost completely heal her injury, almost.

She managed to walk almost perfectly fine, but every once in a while, a sharp pain would make her leg shake, causing her to take a small few second break before walking again.

She knew it wasn’t major, but she also couldn’t help but worry, thus, bringing her to where she is now.

She sat between her captain and commander, listening as they talked idly about the next mission in the morning. Her breath caught in her throat, waiting for when she can speak up without interrupting them.

As if Levi could read her mind, he looked down at her, noting her silence during the entire dinner.

“Everything alright?” He asks, making her look up into his eyes. “Of course, why?” “I asked you a question about tomorrow, and you never responded.” He says, voice less commanding than he would to other cadets.

“I actually won’t be making it tomorrow.” His face slightly falls at this, “I’m for the most part all better with my ankle, but once in a while, I’ll have to take a small break if I’m walking or running too fast. I could make it if you really need me to, but I’m worried I’ll be more of a liability if I happen to hurt it further.” He lets a small smile to his face, looking down at her. “It’s fine, take your time to heal completely.” Her heart warms at his words, a light flush dusting her cheeks.

While he disliked that she would be missing another outing, he understood her worries. And, while he genuinely loved having her there by their side, her skills weren’t needed this time.

It was simple, they were being sent out to collect food that was believed to be left in the abandoned homes inside wall Maria.

They were able to map out a route that would hopefully be far from any Titans, if there were any, they were instructed to leave them be unless absolutely necessary.

Due to the harsh winter, it had become harder to transport food to the scouts, and many feared of the coming blizzards that would hinder any transportation.

Thus, they were going out to collect any and all cans goods they could find, just in the case that they needed it. Simple.

Her arms wrapped tightly around the pair that she’s now called her children, her three Munchkins as she calls them.

Even with all of them towering over her, she still managed to wrap them all in a group hug like it’d be the last time they saw each other again.

She knew how simple this mission was, that they would be back before she knew it, but the fear of them getting lost, hurt, or worse, clouded her mind and rang in her heart as she clutched them all together.

“Please, be safe guys.” She says, all of their eyes looking at her in question. She rolls her eyes at their confused expressions. “I know that’s idiotic to say with this job but, you you guys get what mean you aren’t stupid.” This makes all of them laugh, their heads turning when they heard another, more deep laugh approaching them. “Well I don’t know about that Y/N. They can all be rather slow at times.” Levi says, a faint line of a smirk on his lips.

Her arms wrap securely around his neck, head rested against his shoulder.

His arms wrap around the bottom of her back, nose in her hair as he breathes in the smell of spearmint from her hair wash.

“Please be careful, and come back in one piece.” She mumbled, tears brimming her eyes. “You know I’ll always make it back,” he says, heart throbbing in his chest as he hears how horse her voice is. “I know, but it still scares me cause I’m not there to protect you all.” She admits, pulling away from his shoulder as she looks into his steel eyes. “Were not going anywhere near any Titans, we’ve done things like this before and were perfectly fine. Well make it back before nightfall. Trust me.” He says, eyes looking into hers. Her heart warms in her chest at his words, a faint smile on her lips. “Alright, I trust you.”

Time seemed to drag on most of the day, her attention being on the sky above and looking out front, waiting to see their horses trucking back.

But as the sun fell and a dark curtain to cascade over the sky, her heart grew heavier with worry when there were no sight of the men.

Maybe they won’t be back until later in the night she thought, hoping that was just the case. Maybe they managed to find other things they needed so it was harder to bring back. They’ll be back by morning she hoped, that night in her knees praying, asking God to make sure they make it back.

Her heart sank in her chest when she got up that next morning, not seeing any of the horses in their stables, or anyone of them back in the large castle.

She hurried to Erwin's office, seeing him sat at his table as she entered. “Commander?” She asks, standing at his door, waiting for him to greet her. “Hm, oh yes, come in.” He says, eyes looking up from his papers.

“Have, you heard anything from the group that were sent out yesterday morning?” She asks, worry etched in her tone. A sigh leaves his lips, eyes looking back down to his papers. “We haven’t heard anything from them yet. But there’s nothing to worry about, they probably got caught in a storm and took refuge in an abandoned building for the night, they’ll be back soon.”

Soon seemed to be further than she had hoped, her mind clouding with thoughts of where they could be. Were they stuck? Did their horses run off? Did they have a run in with a group of Titans? Are they okay?

Thoughts growing only worse as the day grows on, fear bubbling up so much she felt sick that night as she prayed, tears in her eyes as she pleaded for their return.

Fear twisted her stomach as soon as she woke, hurily getting up from her bed as she looked out her window, feeling her empty stomach twist when she again, saw an empty stable.

Her feet carried her to his office, eyes trained forward as she marched to him.

It had been days, 3 to be exact since they left. She knew sometimes they took longer than planned, especially with the ever worsening weather. But she wasn’t just going to stay inside this castle like a frail princess like she red about as a child, waiting for their return.

Her fists harshly hit against his door, hearing a faint come in from behind it. Her stomach shaking.

“Again, we haven’t heard anything. You’ll be one of the firsts to know cadet.” He says as soon as she enters, not even bothering to let her ask.

“I know, that’s why I’m going out to find them.” She says, arms crossed over her chest, voice harsh as she stares at him.

His head abruptly looking up from his papers, “absolutely not cadet. That’s not only irrational to even think about, but absolutely mad to do.” “And I don’t care. They were only supposed to be gone for a day, it’s been 3 now with no word whatsoever on their condition. I’m going out and that’s on my own accord commander.” She bites back, voice just as harsh as his.

There were few times she used the tone, even fewer with the commander. But if there’s one thing that she cares more about than her life, it was those she called family. She would fight tooth and nail for them, no matter the cost.

“Do you have any idea how idiotic that would be? To go out there looking for them in this weather? What’s gotten into you?” He says, voice harsh as he stares her down.

A faint tear collects in her eyes as she visibly shakes, “you don’t think I know that? I lived in this weather as a child until I was a teen. And how dare you ask what’s gotten into me? My family, my children are out there in this weather. They are the only thing I’ve got left because my actual family died in this kind of weather. So sorry I’m concerned for them unlike you. I’m.going.”

He lets out a sigh as he rests his head in his hand, “fine, I apologize for my words. But if you are set on going, wait for morning is all I ask. Wait for sunrise tomorrow.” She lets out a deep sigh at his words, body less rigid. “Fine.”

Tears prick her eyes as she grabs the small box, opening it as tears fall down her cheeks.

There in a small frame, is a photo of a young boy, an older man who’s beard had yet to turn grey, and a frail, small woman, with a warm smile that made her eyes shine. And in the middle of them, was her.

Her parents had met as teens, falling in love at first sight and spent many years together before they bared a son, her older brother, Jeremiah.

They had her some 3 years later, a perfect family that were filled with warm hugs, kisses to their foreheads everyday, words of love every chance they could say it.

They didn’t have much, only living in a one bedroom apartment their entire lives, their parents sharing a small twin bed in what was the storage room, while her and her brother shared another in the small living room, a small kitchen, bathroom, and fireplace. It was enough though, they never were sad, or had any reason to be anything but happy.

She doesn’t have many memories of her mum, heart breaking every time she thinks of why.

Her mum worked down stares at a small diner, being the sole breadwinner due to her father being almost completely crippled due to a disease he had as a child.

It was winter, and the diner was full almost every night, her mum working long nights cooking, trying to bring in money to feed her family.

It all happened in a blur, only bits of her memory still remain from the next month. One of the worst of her life.

She was only 5 when her mum started growing ill, a nasty cough that she always shielded from her kids and husband. None of them thought it was bad, until one day she started coughing up blood, the fear in both her parents eyes as they realized what that meant, neither one of the kids knowing what had become of their beloved mummy.

She spent the next month away from all of them, locking herself in her bedroom. The young girl and boy not knowing the reason, not until later on when their father told them. She didn’t want to tell them because she knew, she wouldn’t make it.

And on one cold, December day, the coughing stopped.

The kids were overjoyed, thinking that their precious mummy was back to health and would hug her kids closely, kissing them on the forehead as she told them another fairytale.

What they didn’t know, was their mummy wasn’t all better, but rather, she couldn’t fight anymore, and let the hands of God take her soul to watch over them.

The wailes from their father as he finds his deceased wife will haunt her forever, the sound of his heart breaking as they ran in, to see their pale, sickly looking mother whose hair was matted, with blood soaking her night dress and face, tears streaming from their fathers eyes, as their small hearts broke too.

The next year again, a daily blue in her mind, as the months dragged on, until they were thrown out, none of them making enough money to stay in the place they once called home.

The next 6 months, she rememberes vividly. How cold the outside was, how people looked down at the frail children as their father did anything he could to to bring food to them every few days.

Her father never stopped loving them though, the harshness he had been dealt never chilled his heart. He still held them each night, hugging them every time he would come back, kisses to their foreheads with words of love each time he spoke to them.

It was cold, colder than any other night prior, as the three huddled around a small fire, arms clutched together as they try staying warm in the small alleyway they called home.

She remembered waking up that morning, eyes crusted over from her lashes being frozen from tears, her body feeling the coldest it had ever felt.

She tried wiggling to move, but was unable to as she saw her brothers and fathers arms enclosed around her, a small cocoon around her.

“Daddy, Jerey?” She asked, small voice hushed due to her tiredness.

She wished she hadn’t looked up, wished she didn’t see their blue, frozen faces looking down at her. A scream ripping from her throat as she looked into the closed eyes of the only family she had left, a painful reminder that, nobody is forever, that eventually, everything and everyone will die, and there’s nothing to do but to love them, as they are still alive.

She maybe got an hour of sleep, waking up every hour, looking outside and only seeing the dark sky, before rolling back over, trying to fall back asleep.

She finally decided to give up on going back to sleep, having been tossing and turning for a while.

She quickly got on her gear, reading herself and taking a tad longer than normal as to buy time before the sun could rise.

It was as if time stopped, her breath being caught in her throat as she looked out. In the mist of a heavy curtain of snow and darkness, she saw it.

Never had she ran so fast down the long stairwell, nearly jumping through them as she ran for the front doors, her heart hammering in her chest as tears clouded her vision.

As soon as she saw them, she sprinted even faster, tears nearly breaking over her eyes as she saw the shocked looks on their faces.

“MA!” Armin screamed, all 3 of them running into her warm arms. Tears finally breaking as she sobs, clutching all 3 of them as tightly as she could.

“Oh my gosh you’re okay” she sobbed, shaking in their arms as sobs wracked her body. She can’t remember the last time she held them all so close, the feeling of her heart soaring in her chest at the knowledge that they’re back and okay.

She hugged everyone close as they came in, tears soaking her face each time she pulled them in.

There was one person that she was hoping would come next, but as the numbers grew smaller, worry struck her. Was he okay? Where is he? She wondered, her heart throbbing in her chest at the mere thought that he wasn’t there.

A breath she didn’t know she was holding let out when she finally saw him. He was trailed behind everyone, tears collecting in her eyes again as she ran over to him.

She clutched him as close as she could, wrapping her arms around his Frigid body. He slightly shook in her arms, the feeling of warmth finally nearly making him collapse. “I was so scared something happened.” She whispered in his shoulder, tears falling down her cheeks. “You know I’ll always make sure we make it back, I’ll never do that to you Y/N”

Never had they seen her run so fast before, having a hard time keeping up with her small body as she ran from different rooms, collecting blankets as they all huddled around the fireplace. She resembled a chicken with its head cut off, nearly making some laugh out.

They all sat around the fire, blankets wrapped with only their heads peeking out from them. She had ran and made an emergency soup for all of them, astonishing most with how quickly she prepared it. And how much it warmed them up.

“Alright, what happened? You guys were supposed to be back days ago?” She asked, eyes searching around all of them.

Jean let out a sigh, setting his now empty dish down.

“We managed to grab a lot that day, more than we thought we would find. So it took us a while. Well, we didn’t plan for a blizzard to hit us in the middle of the day. So, we all managed to find a house that wasn’t completely torn to shreds and decided to camp out for the night. We thought we’d be back by the next day. When we got up the next morning, we saw that, all the horses froze to death, even with all the blankets we had they were all dead. We were so far out, and with the blizzard only getting worse, we had to leave almost everything we found, and walk back.”

Tears pricked her eyes as she listened, thanking the Lord that they all made it back okay. Well, almost all. Her eyes couldn’t help but look over to Levi, seeing him closest to the fire, shaking as his nose ran.

As she walked back to her room, her head whipped to the side when she heard it. A deep, painfully loud cough was heard in his office. She knew he wasn’t well, seeing the look in his eyes and how weak he looked. He hardly even ate the soup she made, nearly dropping the spoon multiple times.

She didn’t even bother to knock, knowing that he either wouldn’t hear it, or be able to respond due to the coughing fit he was having.

“Hey hey hey, get it all out.” She soothed, instantly going behind him and rubbing his back. Grabbing a tissue, placing it over his mouth as she felt him spit up the large mucus bubble from his throat.

He let out a pained groan, eyes watering as she wiped his face from all the mucus. He was hunched in his chair, papers moved to the side as to not get anything on them. His entire body felt scorching hot, nearly making her heat up herself. “Come on, let’s get you out of these clothes and into bed.” He tried protesting, but she hardly listened as she grabbed him, slowly moving him to his adjoined room.

“I’ve got, paperwork I need to get done Y/N” he groaned, but still kept on walking with her. “And they can wait, right now you need to get under some covers and rest.”

He didn’t protest again, finally giving up when she brought him in his room.

She sat him on his bed, quickly running to shut the door so no heat could escape.

She started with his boots, stripping them from his body as she slowly worked up, having to catch him a few times when his head hung too low.

She managed to strip everything but his undergarments off, a flush to her cheeks as she looked at his chiseled, fair body.

She managed to rip her mind from the feel of his soft skin when he let out a pained groan, his head in his hands as he rubbed his temples.

She delayed him down on his bed, pulling the covers away from his still scorching body. A pleasant groan leaving his lips when his body met his bed, body finally somewhat relaxing in days. A small smile on his lips.

That smile quickly morphing into a grimace when he touched his face, feeling the sweat dampening his entire body. “I feel fucking disgusting.” He groaned, voice sounding pained and muffled due to his stuffed nose. “It’s just sweat hun, you’re running a fever and it’s finally breaking.” She said, voice calming him slightly. “Doesn’t help that I still feel wet and sticky.” He said, eyes shut as to not let any of it get in his sore eyes.

She quickly left the room, running down the hall to the washroom.

She quickly came back in, his heart fluttering in his chest when he saw her and what she brought.

Clutched in her hands were a medium sized basin, a bar of soap and a washcloth. She sat it down on his table by his bed, grabbing a chair to sit in.

“I’m just gonna wash you up a bit okay, just to get all the sweat off.” She says, dampening the cloth and soap. “You don’t have to do this.” He whispered, but again, he never stopped her as she brought the cloth to him. “I know, but I want to.” She replied, a smile on her face.

A pleasant groan left his lips when she started washing his clammy stomach, feeling himself relax even further at the feel of the cloth cleaning his skin. The feel of her hands running over his skin so gently made his heart thud wildly in his chest, eyes shutting as he focused on her soft touch.

She slowly washed all of his stomach, legs, arms, now traveling up his chest and on his neck. A faint flush dusted her cheeks as she looked at his calm face, his eyes shut.

She re dampened the cloth, making sure there’s a new layer of sudds as she slowly washed over his face. A groan leaving his shut lips as she slowly washed his cheeks. A small chuckle leaving her lips. “You enjoying yourself there?” She teased, making him let out a small chuckle. “If trucking through Jack frost's backyard got me to be washed down like this, I’d do it every weekend.” He said, causing both of them to let out laughs.

Her laugh quickly stopped as her heart pained in her chest, as his body hunched over the side of the bed, hand over his chest as he coughed painfully.

Her hand rubbed at his back again, hair holding his hair from his eyes as he struggled to stop.

Her heart throbbing in her chest when she heard him struggling to breathe, now weezing out as he tried regaining air into his lungs.

“Hey hey hey sit up come on.”she quickly grabbed a hold of his chin, gently pulling him up. He finally regained air as he huffed, face flushed as tears left his eyes from the violent coughing.

Tears collected in her eyes when she looked at him, her heart burning in her chest as she watched him have a hard time breathing. “You really should go to medic hun.” She pleaded, his eyes looking into her glossy ones. “It’s pointless Y/N, they won’t be able to do anything to help me.” His voice was shaky, sounding exhausted as he shut his eyes. “Yes but they can watch over you, make sure you’re breathing alright. I’m worried if you fall asleep, you’ll-“ “It’s not what you think it is. It’s probably just a cold from being in the blizzard. I get sick really easily, my immune system is absolutely shot from how I grew up. It’s nothing what you’re thinking.” Tears now falling down her cheeks, making his chest throb in pain. “I know it’s not, but I’m still afraid of when you fall asleep.” She said, voice strained from crying. He let out a sigh, looking into her eyes as he wiped her cheeks. “Then stay.” “What?” She asked, head slightly tilted at his words. “If you're so worried about me, why not just stay. I could use the extra heat, if that’s okay with you?” He asks, eyes looking away from hers. His heart beating rapidly in his chest. A small smile grows on her lips. “Alright.”

He moved closer to the wall, letting her body get under the covers with him. He had given her one of his shirts to wear, head turned away from her as to give her privacy as she changed.

Both their hearts hammered in their chests, as she brought his head to rest against her clothed breasts. A sigh leaving his lips as he wraps his arms around her torso.

Her arms wrapped around his body, one drawing soft lines over his back, as the other cards through his greasy hair.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, eyes shut as he nearly falls under. A soft smile on her face as she looks down at him. “You’re welcome, I’ll always be here to take care of you kitty.” And with that, he finally lets himself fall under sleep, breaths evening out. She kisses the top of his head, eyes finally shutting herself.

[teletraan-meets-jarvis]

Monster - Part 2

AO3 Link

Characters: Commander Fox (Main), Commander Wolffe, Commander Cody, Captain Rex, Commander Stone, Corrie Medic Triage (OC).

Summary: Fox deals with the aftermath of his actions, unsure as to whether his brothers can forgive him.

Warnings: 16+, swearing, mentions of death.

Word Count: 3.5k

Part 1 here

Author’s Notes: I've been agonising over this chapter for far longer than necessary so please take it from me. Hopefully it's not complete gibberish. Feedback is appreciated as always, it's my first time writing such prominent clones all as proper characters in a fic so would be great to know what went well and where I can improve! This fic ends with this chapter but the ending leaves it open for imagination, if anyone has any cool thoughts for what may happen my inbox is always open to discuss further! Fic is below the cut, enjoy 😊.

When Fox next came around he was on the cheap sofa in his office. The rigid object making his back stiff, he must’ve been out for a while. He groaned as he attempted to sit up. He felt weak, his entire body sore and sensitive as he shuffled about.

“Welcome back, sunshine.” Stone greeted him while Triage appeared and started poking at him. Stone must’ve relieved Thorn from Fox babysitting duty. The thought made the Commander groan.

“How you feeling, boss?” The medic questioned as he started shining a small light into his eyes.

“Shit” he replied truthfully. “What happened?”

“You had a breakdown, a bad one.” The matter-of-fact bedside manner of the Guard’s chief medical officer was something Fox usually favoured, except when he was on the receiving end of it of course.

“Oh”

“It’s lucky Thorn found you when he did.” Triage chided while tapping away at his Datapad. His clean-shaven face focused as he went about the task. “You’ve got a visitor by the way”

“Hey vod” the gruff voice was followed by an even gruffer Commander strolling into view. What was Wolffe doing here?

“Thorn called.” Hm apparently he’d asked his question aloud.

Fox hadn’t seen Wolffe in months, he was always away on missions and rarely got down time when his Jedi had to return to Coruscant. His scar still stood out prominently against his tanned skin, but it looked better each time he saw him again, like it was slowly settling in to being a part of him. His armour was tattered, the grey paint scratched and chipped while the white plastoid was covered in the dirt of battle.

“Well I’m fi-“

“Don’t try it mir’sheb. I know what happened.” Fox flinched. Wolffe’s tone was flat when he spoke, his face unreadable and despite being one of the eldest of their batch, Fox felt very vulnerable under his little brother’s gaze.

As cadets and during command training, their batch had always been close, but Fox could confidently call Wolffe his best friend out of the lot. Their competitive nature pushed them to always be the best, their dry humour so cutting that only the other could truly understand it for what it was. Both of them were blunt, but over the years, the war had moulded them slightly differently. Where Fox was hardened and distant from his time on Coruscant, surprisingly, some of Wolffe’s ragged edges to his personality had softened. Not really noticeable if you didn’t know him from before, but Fox chalked it up to the friendship and mentoring of his wise Jedi and also his position as a Commander. Wolffe had lost his entire battalion early on in the war and Fox had held his heartbroken vodas he swore he would never let anything come between him and his men ever again. From that point on, Wolffe had gotten to know each member of his squad personally, always ensuring that they knew that despite his hard exterior, he’d always be there for them if they needed it.

Despite all this and how well Fox knew his brother, all that knowledge was doing nothing for him in his current situation. Wolffe knew that he’d killed another clone, yet he hadn’t lashed out yet. Was he just waiting until they were alone? The tension in the air threatening to smother them with each second that passed. Fox wasn’t ready for this conversation.

“We’ll give you two some privacy.” Triage announced before dragging a worried looking Stone out behind him.

Fox didn’t say anything, he just waited for the onslaught from his younger brother. He was sporting his signature frown which could mean a hundred different things.

“Before we even get into this, I just need you to know that we don’t hate you, Fox. We’ll always love you, you di’kut.” Wolffe’s voice finally carried some emotion now that they were alone. It held a mixture of things, brotherly frustration at Fox’s self-loathing, a fear for finding out things he might not want the answer to and the smallest twinge of betrayal for what Fox had done. But among the rest of it, among the words said, there was love. Fox huffed out a humourless laugh.

“Beats me as to why”

“We’re family. We don’t need a reason. We’re stuck with each other, whether you like it or not.”

Silence lingered between them as Fox finally found the courage to speak about the elephant in the room.

“I don’t know why I did it. I didn’t mean to.” His voice was faint, almost like if he said it any louder it’d all be real.

“I know ori’vod”

Fox finally launched into an explanation of what happened. His chest constricting further and further, threatening to rob his body of air as he pushed himself to get the story out. His hands shook in fear of what his closest brother would think of him, of what he’d done. Wolffe hadn’t spoken during the entire story, resigned to just watching him from his perch on his desk. Fox was panicking.

After what felt like the longest silence of Fox’s life, the younger Commander exhaled roughly, his bare hands rubbing at his scar out of habit as he processed the information. “You told Rex this?” Fox was shocked that out of everything to ask, that that was his question. The Guard Commander shook his head.

“Well, we better get him over here” Fox jumped out of his seat and placed a hand over his brother’s comm link.

“Kriff Wolffe, the poor guy has suffered enough. Last thing he needs is me begging for forgiveness for something he can’t forgive. I killed one of our own, one of his last few best friends. He hates me. And I really don’t blame him.”

“Maybe so, but he deserves to hear the truth from you. Whether or not he believes it is up to him.” Reluctantly, he let his arm go and stalked back over to the sofa. “I’ll comm Cody, he’s over there with him now.”

“Didn’t realise you were both planet side.” Fox grunted out, he could really do with some caff, his body was exhausted.

“The 104th were on their way back since Plo had some Jedi stuff to do, we touched down this afternoon. As for the 212th, they finished their last mission and once they heard about everything that’d been going on, General Kenobi requested they come back to help out. Though I have a feeling that was Cody wanting to check in on Rex.”

Fox wanted to ask how Rex was, but the searing guilt that burned in his chest couldn’t bear to ask the question. So he decided to check on some people who potentially hated him a smidge less, only a smidge though.

“Have you heard from the others?”

Wolffe nodded and went on to tell him about what the rest of their batch had been up to. Gree had recently been assigned to General Yoda, who he was absolutely terrified of. Fox didn’t blame him, the Jedi was extremely powerful for someone so pint sized, he’d also heard that he had a wicked sense of humour which would definitely stress Gree out, much to the amusement to the rest of his batch. Ponds was getting on nicely with Mace, they’d recently had a successful campaign near the outer rim and were due back on Coruscant soon. The eldest of their batch, Bly, was doing well too. Apparently Wolffe thought he had the hots for his General as Bly apparently refused to shut up about how amazing and strong and caring she was. Fox wasn’t sure if he was messing with him or not, but the thought brought a small smile to his face nonetheless. Trust Bly to fall in love with his Jedi General.

“What about you? How’s life in the Corrie Guard?” Wolffe asked.

Where could he even begin. Fox never offloaded about his problems onto anyone, except maybe his fellow Commanders in the Guard who he shared the burden with. Wolffe wouldn’t understand. A part of him also wanted to be the dutiful big brother and not place any worries or fears onto his vod’ika.

“Not much to report, same as always” he wasn’t lying at least. It was easier this way, for them not to know. They could keep thinking he was safe away from the battlefield. Their hopes in this war were already pretty low, they didn’t need to know about the horrors that lurked away, hidden among the senate corridors and the low levels of Coruscant.

——————————

Anxiety gripped at Fox’s chest as he paced a hole into his metal office floor. Waiting for Cody and Rex made him feel as if he was waiting for a death sentence. He thought of all the ways he could potentially escape but he knew Wolffe would be all over him. The 104th Commander always was a fan of tough love and things didn’t get tougher than this.

There was a slight commotion outside which pulled the both of them to attention.

Rex came storming in, his face set like stone, an angry frown marring his features and deepening the creases in his forehead. Once he set his sights on Fox nothing could deter him. “Rex, wait!” Wolffe shouted but he couldn’t stop him in time. Rex’s fist slammed into Fox’s nose with a sickening crack, sending the Commander sprawling backwards, catching himself on his desk as his nose started gushing blood.

Cody ran in from nowhere and locked Rex’s arms behind his back, trying to calm their little brother. “Rex, will you just listen to him.” He shouted down his ear while Fox recovered from the blow, cradling his now broken nose as Wolffe came to his side to help him back up.

“Why? Why should I listen? He didn’t listen to Fives!” Rex screamed back as he writhed in Cody’s arms. His words cut into Fox, making him grimace.

“I know. I’m so sorry, Rex.” Fox apologised with a burning sincerity, but it only deepened the frown on Rex’s face.

“I don’t want your apologies.” The Captain shouted back, gone was his usual professional composure. Right now he was a broken man who’d lost one of the last few people he’d let get close to him. There was no rank in this room right now, they were just a group of hurting vod, trying to pick up the pieces.

Rex spat his words out at Fox with a look that could kill, he probably wanted it to. He looked like he wanted Fox to hurt as much as he was right now. “Maker, I know Palpatine had you wrapped around his finger, I just didn’t realise how much.” Ouch.

“Rex” Cody reprimanded, his Marshall Commander voice coming out as he tried to defuse the situation. The Captain’s face was still masked in hurt and anger, but he did back down slightly after his verbal blow. “The past couple days has been hard for you vod, we know that and we’re here for you. But we wouldn’t be asking you to listen to Fox right now if we didn’t think it was worth it. Please, just give him a chance.” Once he finished, he nodded at Fox to signal him to get started. He took a deep breath and readied himself to try and explain the unexplainable.

“I know it sounds ridiculous but what happened back there, It wasn’t me” he started, and Rex just scoffed, still struggling against Cody’s hold. “Look, I can’t explain it. But I set that gun to stun, I swear to you, Rex. I know you all think I’m some cold, order-following droid but I would’ve brought him… I would’ve brought Fives, in for questioning. You- you have to believe me.” Fox pleaded, blood still trickling down his face from his broken nose. He wasn’t their usual, sarcastic, caffeine deprived big brother. No, Fox was a complete mess as he tried to reason with Rex. He couldn’t bare his brothers thinking that he did this willingly, that he’d turn on his own kind with just a simple order.

“What do you mean it wasn’t you?” Rex’s gaze was still unsure, but he’d never seen Fox like this before. He looked desperate, much like Fives had.

“I- I blacked out. One minute we were moving in and as soon as I saw Fives, and I know this sounds crazy, it’s like something else took over. I was just watching from the sidelines.” Fox gave an exasperated sigh as he tried to explain himself.

“Like something was controlling you?” Rex asked, the cogs in his brain turning as he waited for a reply. Fox just gave an ashamed nod and dreaded realisation dawned on Rex’s face.

“Maybe Fives wasn’t crazy” he said it as barely a whisper but with the silence in the room they all managed to hear it.

“What do you mean?” Cody questioned as he finally let his vod’ika go, content that he wasn’t going to assault the Guard Commander further. Rex used the freedom to go and lock the door to Fox’s office.

“What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this room, understand? No one can know, not our vode, not your Jedi, nobody.” The three of them nodded.

“Before he died, Fives was trying to explain what was going on to General Skywalker and me, he said that there’s something in our heads that could make us do whatever someone wanted… Even kill the Jedi.” Wolffe and Cody’s eyes widened at the thought, finding it impossible to even comprehend hurting their Generals who they cared for deeply.

“And if, if, he’s right about that, well, he said the Chancellor is in on the whole thing. That he set him up. And as insane as it sounds, that could explain why he sent Fox, of all people, to hunt him down.” Rex finally spared him a glance that wasn’t filled with complete hate, there was a slight bit of pity in for good measure instead.

“You’re saying that the Chancellor has some sort of control over me?” Fox replied. The colour draining from his face as he considered the option.

“I’m saying… it’s a possibility. After seeing what happened with Tup, what you’re saying happened to you doesn’t seem far off. He had no idea why he killed General Tiplar. Said he didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Okay hold on, so you’re trying to tell us that Fives uncovered a plot by the Chancellor which involves all of the clones having something in their heads which allows them to be controlled, with the likely purpose of it being to kill the Jedi?” Wolffe asked with the hopes that he might wake up from this weird dream he found himself in.

“Pretty much” Rex replied.

“Ozik” Cody cursed. “And you believe him? Fives? You sure he didn’t just lose it?” The Marshal Commander needed this final confirmation from his brother.

“I-” Rex exhaled and dragged a gloved hand down his face “I think I do. I wasn’t sure before but with what Fox is saying, it’s all a bit too much of a coincidence. I believe him enough to at least look into what he was talking about. He wouldn’t have risked everything he did for nothing.”

Fox tried to keep breathing as the conversation went on. Controlled. A plot to kill the Jedi. Maker this was too much. Surely they had to be wrong. But then he remembered his shit show of a life, the things that the chancellor made him do, things he’d never do willingly if he had the choice like a true sentient being. Maybe it wasn’t such a faraway reality. He repressed the shiver that threatened his body.

“You do realise we’ll get executed on the spot if we’re found looking into this. This is treason. If what you’re saying is true, then it sounds like they went to some pretty serious lengths to keep Fives from outing them.” Wolffe added, ever the pessimist. Not that Fox blamed him, they were moving into dangerous territory with this talk.

“You three can walk away, but I owe this to Fives and Tup.” Rex said, conviction written all over his face.

“I’m in” Fox announced as he wiped most of the blood away from his nose and mouth. The ache from his broken nose setting in as the adrenaline from his and Rex’s confrontation started wearing off.

Wolffe and Cody shared a glance, a silent conversation taking place between the two of them. They both shared strong bonds with their Jedi in different ways, they wanted to do everything in their power to protect them, but could they keep this a secret for long enough? Obi-Wan and Plo were very in touch with their Commander’s emotions. There was a chance they’ll figure out something was up sooner than they’d like. They would just have to work fast. Cody nodded at Wolffe, and the decision was made.

“We’re in too” Wolffe confirmed. “I don’t want any more of our brothers to die if we can help it.”

“What about Skywalker? He was with you and Fives, do we at least have him on side?” Cody asked and Rex pulled a disappointed face.

“As soon as Fives mentioned the Chancellor being involved, Anakin wrote the whole thing off… It’s just us.”

“We can work with that” Cody comforted with a hand on his little brother’s shoulder and a small smile. The Commander’s comm link started chirping and he gave them all a sorry look. “It’s the General, I better take this and head back. But we’ll catch up later.”

“79’s?” Wolffe offered. Despite none of them fancying a night out, there was no better place to get privacy than a noisy bar filled with identical faces. Cody nodded and quickly departed.

Eventually they had to call Triage back to deal with Fox’s nose. He’d done well to hide the pain during the chat between the four of them, but it had quickly started to take over his thoughts. Thankfully his CMO came armed with pain stims and for once, Fox didn’t get absolutely ripped into by the medic as this injury wasn’t a result of his own stupidity. Well, to be fair, he was sure that assessment was up for debate, especially from Rex who was talking quietly with Wolffe around Fox’s desk.

Fox poked at the metal brace and bandages on his nose, the Bacta patch under it was a squishy texture. Triage knocked his hand away like a parent would a child who was reaching for the last cookie. “Don’t touch it” he warned, and Fox moved his hands back down to his side. “Given our accelerated cell regen and the Bacta patch, you should be good to wear your helmet again by tomorrow” Fox gave his thanks to the medic by clasping his wrist in a handshake before he was left alone with his vode again.

Wolffe conveniently dipped out to use the fresher, leaving Rex and Fox alone for the first time since the incident. Fox’s heart rate sped up as he thought about it, the scenes of Fives’ death playing over and over again in his head like a horror film on repeat. That look on Rex’s face when their eyes met over Fives’ body, seared into his brain as a constant reminder of what he did.

They stared at each other from across the room, Fox was still sat on his cheap, rock solid couch while Rex was stood by his desk.

Fox couldn’t hold the eye contact; he broke it off and shifted his gaze to his hands.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. It’s not what I’m asking for, you're well within your rights to hate me. But I just want you to know that I wouldn’t hurt you like this willingly. It’s the last thing I’d ever want.” Fox broke the silence. Still not brave enough to meet Rex’s eyes, to see the disappointment and betrayal which would likely be waiting for him.

He heard some shuffling and the couch sink down slightly beside him. He dared a look over and saw Rex’s scratched leg armour.

“I don’t hate you, Fox. I know you were put in a tough situation. I know I like to think I would’ve handled it differently, but truth be told, I don’t know what could’ve happened if Fives didn't put us in that ray shield. And while I don’t want to think about it, I have a feeling someone would’ve got to him eventually. It was inevitable.” He paused and took a shuddering breath. “I just… I just need a bit of time.”

“I appreciate that, take all the time you need.” They both shared a small smile, content that they’d get past this together. There was light on the other side of this dark tunnel.

Rex really did care about Fox; he’d always looked up to him over the years. He remembers the small stuff, the words of encouragement when a training simulator went wrong, the proud look on his face when he got promoted to Captain, the many nights of drinking Thire’s rocket-fuel moonshine in Fox’s office when Rex needed to escape from the war for a few hours.

They’d be fine, time was always the best healer. Fox just hoped that they had enough time left.

Back to Part 1

Back to Masterlist

[ijustwant2write]

A Bad Arrangement-Thomas Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @sihtrics)

Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @jenepleurepasbaby @amirahiddleston @bloodorangemoonlight

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hi! Could I request a tommy imagine in which the reader and him are in an arranged Marriage. She tries to be a good wife, but he’s very cold towards her and she feels sad about it. One day he comes home in a rather sour mood and the reader tries to cheer him up, but since he’s upset he says something harmful to her which makes her cry. He feels bad and goes to talk to her and tells her the reason he was cold towards her is because he was scared she would end up like grace. A fluffy ending pls❤️’

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Neglect, sadness, arguing, swearing, mention of death, fluff

(A/N: I changed it slightly, it worked better with the direction of the plot)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Charlie's cries could be heard throughout the house, and my instincts kicked in. He wasn't my child, but I had always had a strong nurturing side. I carefully rushing up the stairs, hurrying down the hall to his room when one member of staff stopped me.

"It's alright Mrs Shelby, I'll tend to him." she quietly said.

"No, it's fine, I can look after him. I'm sure you're swept off your feet." I tried to move around her, but she blocked me.

"Please miss."

I sighed."Tommy told you to not let me near him, didn't he?"

Her silence gave me the answer. She hesitated before turning around, making her way into Charlie's room. The door closed before I could even peak inside, and Charlie's cries died down. The frustration in me was building up, I had never felt so humiliated or like an outcast in my entire life. And even in my house, I didn't belong.

As I walked back downstairs, I glanced up at the huge painting of Grace, Tommy's former wife. On the one hand, I understood why he kept it up; he was in love with her, they had a child together, and it was a tragic death. However, it felt as if he was mocking me, telling me that I wasn't as good as her, that I could never live up to her. And he wasn't shy about expressing that either.

This wasn't the marriage I had dreamed of, not the life my mother had told me I would have. After trying and failing to find that love everyone so desperately seeks, I somehow ended up in the clutches of the Shelby's. An arranged marriage (more like a business proposal) had been made between my family and theirs, just so they could tread on some of our territory. We weren't a gang like them, but my father was a powerful man, and he knew how to protect his business. Hence why I was part of the deal; marry the wealthy man's daughter, or lose out on a massive piece of land that would benefit them in the future. The marriage also made a tie between our families, meaning we were supposed to be friendly at all times. Which is why I never told my family about the way I was treated, it would cause an even bigger problem.

I continued down to the kitchen, smelling the freshly baked goods. There were biscuits cooling on a rack, and I hovered my hand above them, checking they weren't too hot. As no one was looking, I pinched one of them, quickly weaving my way out of there, and down to the wine cellar as I ate it. I had noticed that Tommy was in need of another bottle of whiskey in his office (I had been searching for him the day before, not finding him anywhere as usual, and for some reason, it was something that I picked up on), and this was another way to waste time for myself. My finger ran along the many bottles we had, picking up a random one. It seemed fine, I still wasn't aware of what made a good whiskey.

Although I had a feeling that Tommy wasn't in, I knocked on his office door anyway, scared of what would happen if I just entered. When no reply came, I opened it slowly, looking into the room before taking a step inside. My eyes roamed around the place, taking everything in. Tommy never let in me in for a long time, it was the one room I never knew. Slowly making my way towards the trolley stuffed with glasses of alcohol, I swapped the empty whiskey for the new one. That man's alcohol tolerance was amazing.

My head whipped around when I heard echoing footsteps, frozen as I thought about how angry Tommy would be when he caught me. I almost tripped over myself as I moved away from his desk, clutching onto the bottle. The door swun open, and he slammed it behind him before noticing me. With that usual cold expression, he stopped for a second.

"What are you doing in here?" he snapped, storming towards his desk.

"I-I saw that you had no whiskey, so I replaced it." I hated that I stuttered.

He lit a cigarette, not looking at me anymore."Someone else could have done that."

"I don't mind. I mean, it's done now anyway." I gulped."How was your day?"

"Fine."

I waited for him to ask me, even if he wasn't interested. But when he sensed that I hadn't left, he finally glanced at me again.

"Is there anything else?" he mumbled.

"No."

Scurrying away, I held in my tears until the door closed. Hugging the bottle to my chest, I whimpered unexpectedly. When was the last time I had smiled? When was the last time I hadn't cried one day after the other. My hand was shaking as I dumped the bottle onto a nearby table. It wasn't fair. I had been good all my life, why was I being punished?

The evening arrived, meaning another day of not existing was about to pass. Slumping upstairs after another lonely meal, I headed towards our room, when I saw Charlie standing up in his cot. He smiled as he spotted me, wriggling around and giggling. No one was going to stop me from seeing that boy, he had lost one mother, he wasn't going to lose another.

"Hi," I gushed as I approached him, both of us smiling at each other,"you should be asleep."

I picked him up, cradling him close to me, his tiny arms wrapping around me. I rocked him as I rubbed his back, taking the feeling in. He was instantly calmed, snuggling into me, and I cherished it. I wanted a child of my own. I wanted to know that feeling of being pregnant, the connection you had as soon as you gave birth, and for Charlie to have a sibling to play with. Just as I thought he had settled, about to place him back in his cot, he whined, and I straightened up again.

"Mummy." his words were muffled in my shoulder, but I heard it anyway.

He hadn't called me that before. It wasn't a mistake. Charlie knew I wasn't his real mum, and yet he had just called me that. I could hear his breathing become deeper, he had to be asleep by now. Though I didn't want to separate myself from him, I reluctantly laid him down, kissing his head ever so gently. Tiptoeing put of his bedroom, I pulled the door closed silently, luckily not waking him up as it clicked shut.

Most nights I couldn't sleep anyway, I would just lie in the plush bed, head resting on the finest of pillows; still with all this comfort, my mind was still wide awake. The way Charlie had said 'mummy' repeated itself over and over. Of course I had cried over it, but I had also cried at the joy he gave me. My heart hadn't felt such love for a long time. Tommy could be heard coming up the stairs, and I knew it was him because all of the staff were dismissed for the night; and the fact that it was three in the morning.

I rolled onto my side, pulling the covers over me. My eyes stayed open as I saw the light from the hallway illuminate the room, but we were shut in darkness again. Closing my eyes to seem asleep, I heard Tommy fumble around, sighing a couple of times. After a few minutes, the bed dipped beside me, but I knew he wasn’t lying down yet. When we were first married, I had tried to lay near him, wishing he would hold me just once. And it was extremely rate for him to even be in bed, not that it made any difference. Over time, I had inched further away from him, creating a huge space between us. I hadn’t cried myself to sleep in a while, and tonight I seemed to be falling back into that habit, whether it was due to what Charlie said or because Tommy yelled at me. But I couldn’t cry freely tonight, not with Tommy in the room. It wasn’t something I could control, so I subtly buried my head into the pillow, hoping that my shoulders weren’t shaking too much. Even if he did see me in such a state, it wouldn't phase him. He would probably slip away to fund peace elsewhere.

I could feel how puffy my eyes were in the morning, dried tears masked on my cheeks. My hand ran down my face, before flopping down to my sides. I didn't need to check if Tommy was there, he was never there in the morning.

Not bothering to dress for breakfast, I tied my robe around me, head hung low as I walked down the hallway. The only time I looked up from the ground was to see if Charlie was awake, but he had already been taken out of his room. I had to see that boy again today, I had to hear him call me 'mummy' again.

As I sat at the table, waiting to be served breakfast, the head housekeeper, Frances, approached me. She didn't have any food with her, nor anyone following her.

"Mrs Shelby, I have been asked to pass on a message from Mr Shelby." she started, seeming nervous.

My mind instantly jumped to the worst thoughts, panicking that something terrible had happened."What is it?"

"He has...demanded that you stay away from Charlie."

"Stay away?"

"He says you were told before that you weren't to interact, and apparently you have violated that."

"And leave that boy without a mother?"

"I'm sorry miss, it's what he ordered. My staff would be in trouble-"

"I understand." I accidentally snapped, regretting my tone."Is he here? Of course he's not, when is he ever here?"

"No, he isn't."

I could stand to be in that room anymore, not with all the tension I had caused. Frances backed away when I stood, and I left without a second glance. No matter how big this house was, I always felt like I was in a tiny box, like it was being crushed and no one cared if it hurt me. Sprinting out of the front door, I ignored the sharp gravel digging into my feet, heading towards the open field we had for the horses. I looked like someone who had escaped an asylum.

Everything around me was Tommy's, there was nothing of value that I owned here. He was in charge, he had control. I no longer had a life here, that had disappeared as soon as the ring was put on my finger. I tugged at my wedding band, desperate to take it off my finger, as if it was burning me; but it was stuck there, refusing to budge. I screamed out in frustration, slamming the ground with my fists. Tommy Shelby was a cruel man, and for what? I wasn't Grace, I understood that, but why did he have to be so horrible?

With my arms crossed over my chest, remnants of dirt still on my hands, I paced around Tommy's office. I didn't care if I wasn't supposed to be in here, he was going to answer my questions. I still wasn't dressed, and it was well into the late afternoon now. If I had to, I would wait all night in that room. Luckily I wouldn't have to, because his care had pulled up on the driveway, and it was only a matter of a few minutes when we would face each other.

He didn't hold back his deep sigh when he opened the door."Why are you in here again?"

"I want to speak to you." I confidently said.

"It'll have to wait." he headed towards his desk, and I scoffed at him.

"No, it won't wait. I won't wait. What made you think that you could stop me from seeing Charlie?"

"(Y/N), I am not about to argue with you."

I raised my voice, my emotions getting the better of me."He's only a baby! He needs a mother figure. You know, that boy is my only source of happiness in this hell hole, and you've taken that away from me!"

"Stop trying so fucking hard!" He yelled back."He's not your son, he's mine! You didn't give birth to him, my dead wife did! You don't do anything to benefit this family, I could have easily taken over your father's territory, but instead I chose the peaceful way, which I regret every day of my life!"

My bottom lip trembled, tears streaming down my face."You don't mean that."

"Oh but I do." he seethed."You don't understand what I do out there to keep us protected, to make sure I can feed us, to make sure no one dies!"

He quickly walked towards me, and I was too scared to stand my ground. I cried out as I fled for the door, clumsily opening it before escaping. My sobbing was loud through the spacious halls, footsteps heavy on the stairs, slamming the bedroom door as hard as I could once I was inside. My shaking legs managed to carry me to the bed before I collapsed, finding myself crying there once again.

It must have been an hour later when the door clicked open. I tensed up, slowly backing up against the headboard as Tommy stepped in. He stared at me, and I thought I saw a moment of sadness in his eyes, but told myself I imagined it. Cautiously approaching me, I stayed still as he stood at the end of the bed, hands in his pockets with his head bowed.

"I'm sorry."

"W-what?" I was in disbelief, he had never apologised to me.

He raised his head, looking me dead in the eye."I'm sorry for shouting at you, I know I scared you. I never want to do that."

I said nothing, hoping he would add onto that.

"I don't like being horrible to you. You don't deserve it."

"Then why do you do it?"

He seemed surprised that I had spoke."I do it to protect you."

"What do you mean?"

"I fell in love with Grace. I let her in, I told her things about the business. And she died. She took a bullet that was meant for me, and I'll never forgive myself for that. I had set up a life that wouldn't involve another woman, it would just be me and Charlie. And then this happened. I couldn't hurt or kill your father, I didn't have any reason to, it was more beneficial to make a deal. And you were a part of that."

"You didn't want anymore blood on your hands." I mumbled.

"Although I was desperate to not marry you, not just because we didn't know each other, but I didn't want to put you in the same danger as Grace. By not getting close to you, not taking an interest, I didn't have the chance to gain any feelings, even a friendship."

"You took Charlie away from me. It tipped me over the edge."

"I know."

"You've hurt me a lot Tommy."

"And I wish I hadn't. It seemed the only way to keep you safe."

"I wasn't asking you to love me. What I really wanted was at least a friendship. If you didn't want Charlie to see me as a mother-"

"I know what he called you the other day."

"The maid who told me about you sneaking in, she mentioned it."

"Are you mad?"

"No. But I'm angry that my son has been able to move on faster than I have."

"He hasn't moved on, he doesn't fully understand what happened. Charlie will remember Grace if we talk about her."

"You would want that?"

"If you want him to remember, who am I to take that away from him?"

He raised an eyebrow at me."I thought you would be screaming at me more."

"I don't want to do that. I don't want to be sad anymore. We have a lot of problems to fix, a lot of things to be talked about. But I'm tired, I can't deal with it now, not tonight."

He rounded the bed, coming to my side. Still apprehensive, I watched him closely. There was nothing to be scared of now, not when he was reaching his arms out to me. Reluctantly sitting up on my knees, I glanced into his eyes one last time, before practically engulfing him in the tightest hug possible. It felt good when he squeezed me back. It wasn't as if we had just suddenly fallen in love, we had made a connection, we were wiping the slate clean. Feelings were still hurt, there were things that needed mending between us, but it was a start.

"Can you forgive me for how I've treated you?" He whispered into my ear.

I sighed, tightening my grip."I will, over time."

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 17

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A FEW MINUTES LATER

BJORNHEIMR

Sigurd dragged his feet across the uneven terrain, slogging through the dead woods that now served as Dag’s tomb. His hand shone vividly with a bright layer of red due to the blood that clung onto his skin, and his ears still buzzed with the echoes of his friend’s final cries.

As for Eivor, the jarl’s son appeared to be equally as harrowed as his companion. His eyes mirrored the frozen desolation of the bleak landscape sitting before him, and his face remained expressionless much like the corpses that now rested at Bjornheimr’s temple.

Both of them traversed the world like a pair of hollow shells, wandering through the dark in search of any light to hold onto. A black haze had blotted out the beam that once twinkled in their eyes, and it seemed as if the fire that once burned in them had been completely snuffed out.

Eivor just prayed this would be the end of their grief. It wouldn’t be long before they got the information they needed from Gorm, and the young man imagined they would soon be braving the seas again in search of the wretch’s father.

It was an endeavor that would only lead to more war, no doubt. There was a high chance that more people would die during their pursuit, and Eivor could no longer guarantee that even he would survive a second battle against Kjotve.

But after everything that had happened, he refused to shy away from this fight. Kjotve’s death wouldn’t bring Ulfar or Thora back from the dead, that much was true. But even then, Eivor hoped that -- at least -- it would serve as a balm to ease the pain now wracking his heart. 

He didn’t even care about reclaiming his honor anymore. All he wanted was to bring this horrid war to an end. Far too many people had been lost to Kjotve’s barbarity, and Eivor’s only desire now was to deliver peace unto those who had suffered for so long.

It was something he was willing to die for at this point, and a part of him suspected that he would.

“Wait,” Sigurd said as they entered the village. He stopped in his tracks and gazed in the distance, looking towards the docks. “Is that Randvi’s ship?”

Eivor followed his line of sight, nodding in response. “Yes. Randvi and her men returned not too long ago. They arrived whilst you were dealing with Dag.” He paused briefly, giving the prince a grim face. “...I’ve already told her about Thora and Ulfar. She’s at the temple now with my father and Ingrida. They’re preparing for tomorrow’s funeral.”

“...How is she?”

“How do you think? She knew Thora and Ulfar even longer than I did. She... she’s beyond devastated.”

Sigurd sighed deeply, hanging his head low in regret. “...Damn it. I should’ve killed Dag weeks ago. I should’ve confronted him from the start. He had been acting so strange ever since we came to Bjornheimr. I shouldn’t have waited this long to do something about it. Perhaps none of this would’ve happened then.”

Eivor took a few steps closer to him, speaking softly. “You are not to blame, Sigurd. You had no way of knowing Dag was the traitor.”

The prince wasn’t swayed. “On the contrary, I was the only one who could’ve known. I was the closest one with Dag out of anybody in our clan. I should’ve been paying more attention. I shouldn’t have let my love for him blind my judgement.”

Sigurd shut his eyes for a moment and let out a breath, clearly exhausted from the day’s events. “...I’m sorry, Eivor. I know you don’t fault me for what’s happened, but even then, I still carry some of the blame on my shoulders. I must be more vigilant from now on. I can’t allow anything like this to occur again, and I won’t. You have my word.”

Walking away before the other man could respond, Sigurd left Eivor behind and simply pushed forward into the village, emerging from the forest like a shadow slipping out of the night. The despair that once dimmed his expression had been replaced with the flickering embers of a growing rage, and the Wolf-Kissed could almost see sparks igniting in his eyes.

As for the young man himself, he simply followed the prince from a distance and trailed along quietly, unsure of what else he could do to comfort his lover. A few of the villagers -- including Styrbjorn -- had turned their heads upon Sigurd’s anticipated return, and immediately brought their attention to the blood now staining his hand.

The color faded from the king’s flesh as soon as he noticed the striking pigment. He didn’t seem to understand what had transpired just yet, but the dreary cloud hanging over his son was enough to imply that something terrible had unraveled.

Styrbjorn approached the two of them, carrying a look of concern.

“My son...!” He called out, keeping his tone hushed. “Where have you been? What’s happened to you? Whose... whose blood is that?”

Sigurd exchanged glances with his companion, hesitant to answer. He didn’t appear to be any calmer than when Eivor first found him in the woods, and the younger man feared that it wouldn’t take much more to send him into a storm. 

“It’s... Dag’s.” The prince admitted. “...I killed him.”

The older man fell into silence, taken aback by his son’s actions.

“You did what?”

“I had to,” Sigurd justified, steeling his voice. “Dag was the traitor. I had to get rid of him before he did anything else. I couldn’t allow him to harm more people.”

“A traitor?” Styrbjorn repeated in disbelief. “Are you positive? What makes you so certain he betrayed us? Did you find any evidence?”

“He confessed his crimes, father. He told me everything. Dag was the one assisting Kjotve. He was the one who informed him of our alliance. Ulfar was right.”

The king didn’t seem convinced. “I see. And was there anyone else around to hear Dag’s confession?”

“...No. It was just me and him.”

Styrbjorn shook his head in disapproval. “Then how can we be so sure that you killed the right man?”

Sigurd stared at his father in bewilderment, finally catching on to the man’s concerns. “...You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, son. But other people may not -- and for good reason, I might add. You just killed one of our own clan members because of a confession that nobody was around to hear. Nobody except for you. How can I accept that as evidence? How am I going to explain Dag’s death to our people? How can I convince them that what you did was not, in fact, murder?”

Sadly, Sigurd was in no state to process things rationally. The king’s doubt only added more fuel to the anguish that was already festering inside him, and his temper quickly took over like a hurricane commanding the seas.

“You can explain to them that I just killed the man responsible for Thora’s death! I killed the man who would’ve thrown the rest of us to the wolves. Had it not been for that rat, this village would still be in one piece. Thora would still be alive. I killed him because it was necessary.”

Styrbjorn was quiet in response, urging Sigurd to fill the silence.

“You think I murdered him out of indulgence? You know how much I loved him, father. He was my brother! I didn’t want to see him dead. But I did what was required to keep our clan safe. I finished what Ulfar started.”

But the king had nothing else to offer other than criticism. “You acted carelessly, Sigurd. There is no honor in slaying a man who cannot defend himself. You know this. If you truly believed Dag was the traitor, you should’ve brought him to me -- not slaughtered him in the woods. I could’ve held a trial to determine his judgement. His crimes would’ve been brought to light.”

“You think we have the time for something like that? Dag may have been reckless, but he wasn’t a fool. If there really was any evidence to find of his collusion with Kjotve, he would’ve destroyed it. We’d be investigating for weeks, if not months!”

“And what if there is evidence? What if we discover that Dag was not the only traitor in our midst? What will we do then, hm?”

Sigurd grew irritated. “We’ll deal with it. Just like I dealt with Dag.”

Styrbjorn sighed in defeat. “You rely too much on impulse, my son. You cannot take matters into your own hands like this. If you are to wear the crown someday, you must learn to respect the ways of our kingdom. A good leader enforces the law with a firm hand, but is never above it.”

The prince didn’t take kindly to that. “You are the last person to dictate what makes a good leader. While I’ve been fighting alongside our warriors on the battlefield, risking my life, you’ve been idling with a bottle in your hand, watching everything unfold! You say I’m reckless, but who else is going to defend your kingdom if not you?”

The older man turned away in shame, causing his son to descend even further into his tirade.

“Killing Dag was the only way to proceed, father. I wouldn’t have done it if I had any other options, but we are at a dead-end here. You don’t want me to act like this? Then you can swing the axe yourself next time!”

Coming to an abrupt halt, Sigurd cut himself off and took a moment to glance at his surroundings, suddenly realizing just how much attention he had drawn to their argument. Everywhere around him, men and women alike gawked at their altercation with a blatant sense of fear in their eyes, alarmed by everything they just heard. Not a single word was uttered amongst the small crowd that had gathered around them, and yet, it felt as if their very thoughts lingered in the air.

Looking at his father, Sigurd stepped away from the other man and slunk to Eivor’s side, backing down as if he were shocked by his own behavior. He appeared to be even more devoid of life now that he had argued with Styrbjorn, and within moments, he was desperately searching for a way out.

“I... I need to be alone.”

In the blink of an eye, Sigurd removed himself from the vicinity and retreated to the longhouse, aching for the solitude of his chambers. He left Styrbjorn and Eivor with nothing more than the company of their own thoughts, and disappeared as if he were smoke being whisked away by the wind.

In the meantime, the two men simply watched the prince vanish in the distance as the crowd began to disperse, granting them the luxury of privacy they so fervently desired. A portion of them already felt somewhat sheepish due to announcing their troubles to the public, and frankly, the only thing Eivor wanted was to lock himself in his room.

Unfortunately for the young man though, Styrbjorn didn’t seem ready to let him go just yet.

“Oh, Sigurd...” the king muttered to himself. “When will that boy learn...?”

Eivor approached the conflicted man, attempting to calm his nerves.

“Forgive him, my lord.” He pleaded. “Grief has befallen Sigurd. He made a great sacrifice for us today, cutting down his own friend like that. It will take him a long time to recover from this.”

Styrbjorn pinched the bridge of his nose out of stress, pacing back and forth in the snow.

“I understand that my son was only trying to protect our clan, but I must ensure he’s prepared to inherit the throne. We are at war, Eivor. There’s no guarantee I’ll be around by the time Kjotve is vanquished. The dawn of Sigurd’s reign could arrive sooner than he expects. He must be ready.”

“He is ready,” The Wolf-Kissed reassured. “He just needs time to heal.”

The king halted in his tracks and glanced at the younger man, inquiring about one other matter.

“Listen, Eivor. I hate to ask you of this considering everything that’s going on, but could you speak to Sigurd for me? I’d feel better knowing he wasn’t dealing with this alone.”

Eivor raised a brow. “Me? Why not you?”

“You’ve witnessed firsthand the animosity that stands between me and my son. Very rarely does Sigurd ever greet me with a smile. Whenever we’re together, it always feels like he’s angry at me, or frustrated. And the worst part is... I can’t even say he’s completely unjustified.”

“What do you mean?”

Styrbjorn sighed regretfully, dropping his gaze to the ground. There was a clear rein of hesitancy holding him back, but he knew that in order to help his son the best, he’d need to offer his full candor. 

“Perhaps he’s already told you this, but... ever since Sigurd’s mother passed away, I’ve found myself continuously drawn to the allure of drink. It’s something that’s haunted me for years now. I’ve tried many times to put down the bottle, but in the end, it always ends up trapping me in its clutches. I’m not proud to admit it, but it’s the truth.”

Eivor nodded in remembrance. “Sigurd has told me about this, yes.”

“I’m not surprised. He often speaks fondly of you. It’s clear you’ve gained my son’s unwavering trust. Unfortunately however, I cannot say the same for myself. My relationship with Sigurd has suffered due to my addiction. I have not always been the father he deserves, nor given him the guidance that he needed.”

The king’s stone facade faltered briefly. “It breaks my heart to consider it, but I fear that my own son views me as a nuisance more than anything. A lingering shackle that keeps holding him back. Sometimes I even wonder if the boy hates me.”

The young man’s expression softened with sympathy. “...No, Styrbjorn. No. He  doesn’t hate you. Even Sigurd himself has told me that he loves you. He just feels ignored.”

That caught Styrbjorn’s attention. “Ignored?”

“Yes. The last time he and I spoke about this issue, he expressed that he often feels like you don’t heed his advice; that his words tend to fall on deaf ears. Sigurd wants to help you overcome this, but he says you won’t let him.”

“It’s... true that I haven’t always kept my promises. I cannot deny that. But this battle is not so easily won.”

Eivor gave him an understanding look. “And Sigurd is aware of that. He knows you won’t be able to discard this overnight. But he just needs to see that you’re making some kind of effort. That will be more than enough for him. Trust me.”

Styrbjorn took the man’s advice to heart and quietly thought to himself for a moment, evidently shaken by this revelation. It was clear that a part of him drowned in guilt due to the discovery of Sigurd’s frustrations, but a hint of relief also twinkled in his eye now that he knew the boy still loved him.

“...I see.” The king said sincerely, gazing at the young man with an immense amount of gratitude. “Thank you for telling me this, Eivor. The path to reconciliation will be one laden with difficulties, but at least I can see where I must go. I will think on what you’ve said, and I’ll speak to Sigurd when the moment is right. In the meantime, could you talk to him for now? I fear that my presence would only amplify his anger.”

“Of course,” Eivor said with a firm nod. “I’ll check on him for you.”

“I appreciate it. Stay safe, my boy. Our struggles are far from over. I pray that the gods will extend their mercy to you from now on, and that you recover quickly from today’s tragedies. Peace is a distant reality for us at the moment, but not unreachable.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE LONGHOUSE

SIGURD’S CHAMBERS

Wandering through the longhouse’s dimly lit halls, Eivor followed the trail of torches as he made his way to Sigurd’s chambers, overwhelmed by the looming silence that was broken only by his footsteps.

The adamant walls of the building had blocked out any intrusive sounds --  including that of the howling wind -- and as a result, nothing but the low crackling of fire was present to accompany the thoughts screaming in Eivor’s head.

He just didn’t know how to feel anymore. When he first discovered Thora’s body, the agony that overcame him was so fierce it almost crippled him entirely. He felt like the gods had ripped a hole in the very fabric of the world, and the impact of Ulfar’s death only pressed harder on the weight that was already resting on his shoulders.

Still, he couldn’t imagine what Sigurd was experiencing. Even though Eivor was no stranger to the atrocities of war, he had never been cursed with the responsibility of striking down his own brother. The mere idea of putting himself in the same position with Randvi was enough to crush him, and he worried that the guilt would twist the prince’s spirit into something much darker. He just hoped he could help the man before it was too late.

“...Sigurd?” The Wolf-Kissed said gently, knocking on the surface of his door. “It’s me, Eivor. Can I come in?”

A soft rustle emitted from the inside, followed up by the muffled thuds of Sigurd’s boots. The door swung open after a few moments, and standing in front of him, Eivor saw the prince, looking somber as ever.

“Eivor...?” He whispered, still afflicted by the ordeal with Dag. “You’re here?”

“Yes. I know you said you wished to be alone, but... I was worried. You disappeared from our sight before we could even get a word in. I wanted to check on you. I hope I’m not intruding.” The younger man paused for a second. “...How are you feeling now?”

Sigurd’s gaze fell to the floor. “I... I don’t know, Eivor.” His posture slouched in remorse. “...I’m not doing well.”

“Of course not,” Eivor said in understanding. “Dag was like a brother to you. No one could do what you did and come out unscathed.”

The prince scoffed. “No one except for my father, apparently.” He turned away from the door and stepped aside, allowing Eivor to come in as he spoke. “Can you believe that man? We are this close to winning the war against Kjotve, and he’s more concerned about due process.”

Eivor followed Sigurd into his chambers, closing the door behind them.

“Your father just wants to make sure you’re ready to rule the kingdom.”

“Well, there won’t be a kingdom to rule if we don’t catch Kjotve soon enough. My father says I’m careless in my behavior, but I don’t recall the last time I saw him lifting a sword. What else does he expect me to do?” 

Sigurd took a seat on the edge of his bed and sighed, completely drained of all vigor. “...I know I’m not perfect, Eivor. I know I still have much to learn. But everything I do is for the betterment of this clan. Why can’t my father see that?”

Eivor sat beside his lover, placing a comforting hand on his back. “He does see it. He may not be the best at getting his message across, but trust me when I say your father knows you have good intentions. He just worries that you’ll act with too much haste.”

The prince’s brow furrowed in curiosity. “Is that so? And what makes you so certain of that?”

“He and I talked after you left,” the younger man admitted. “He wanted to speak with you personally, but he thought that his company would only aggravate you more.” Eivor frowned in empathy. “...Your father thinks you hate him, Sigurd.”

Sigurd’s entire mood seemed to shift at the response, and for a split-second, it almost looked like he had completely forgotten about the rage he harbored. 

“He does...?”

“Well, he suspects it,” Eivor clarified, “but he said that things are always tense between you two. There never seems to be a moment of peace whenever you’re together.”

The prince shook his head, eager to dispel his beliefs.

“...No,” he said softly. “No. I don’t hate him. I love my father, in fact. I just hate the things he does sometimes.” Sigurd leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I want to keep him safe like I promised my mother I would. It brings me no joy to see him endure any pain or hardship, but...” he let out a breath of frustration, “...he never listens to me! Whenever I try to help him, he only pushes me away. Once, I even dumped all our ale into the river to stop him from drinking, and he broke into a fury unlike anything I’d ever seen.”

A grip of fear took hold of Sigurd’s voice. “...That stuff is poison, Eivor. It’s going to kill him someday. The last thing I want is to see my father step into an early grave, but how am I supposed to help him when he won’t even help himself?”

Eivor brought his partner into a hug, allowing his chin to sit on the man’s shoulder.

“You need to be more patient, Sigurd,” he advised. “Ultimately, your father’s recovery is his own responsibility, but a hostile relationship won’t do anything for either of you. He’s still trying to move on from your mother’s death. Just like you’re trying to move on from Dag’s. Give him time.”

The prince let out a sigh and warmed up to Eivor’s embrace, finally cooling off from the heat of his argument with Styrbjorn.

“I... I suppose you’re right.” He conceded, turning to face the younger man. “...Okay, Eivor. I’ll try to make things right. Not just for my father, but also for you. I promise.”

Eivor smiled at that. “Good. It won’t be easy, I know. But it’ll be worth it.”

Sigurd sat up from his position and laid a hand on the Wolf-Kissed’s lap, diverting the focus of their conversation elsewhere.

“Anyway, enough about me. How are you doing, my love? I’m... so sorry about Thora and Ulfar.”

Eivor separated their hug and stared bleakly at the floor, trying to keep himself together.

“...I still can’t believe they’re gone,” he said. “I thought I’d be used to losing people like this after what happened to my parents, but it hurts just as much as it did all those years ago. Only this time, I feel like I could’ve done something. I wish I did.”

A tinge of regret blanketed Sigurd’s face. “Are you angry that I held you back during the holmgang?”

“No,” Eivor answered truthfully. “I know you didn’t mean any harm. You were only trying to preserve Ulfar’s honor, and to be honest, I’m grateful that you did. As much as I wish I could’ve saved that man, I’d feel even worse if he never reached Valhalla. I’m going to miss him more than words can describe, but at least I know he’s at peace now. At least I know he’s reunited with his wife.” A cloud of sorrow fogged the young man’s eyes. “...I just wish I could say the same for Thora.”

Sigurd’s nose crinkled at the memory of discovering Thora’s body. “Gorm is even more of a coward than his father. It’s a shame what he did to her. He will get the punishment he deserves, Eivor. I won’t let him get away with it.”

The Wolf-Kissed found some solace in the prince’s reassurance. “Thank you. I know there’s nothing I can do to bring Thora back, but it seems only fitting that the man who murdered her joins her side in Helheim.”

“And he will. One way or another.”

Standing up from the bed, Eivor straightened his tunic and inched towards the door, preparing to take his leave. He didn’t want to abandon Sigurd’s side just yet, but he also wanted to see how his family was coping before the day came to an end.

“Anyway, I’ll give you some space, Sigurd.” He said, pressing a hand against the door’s surface. “I imagine you probably want to be alone right now, and there are some things I need to take care of before the funeral starts.”

Contrary to his belief however, the prince didn’t seem to share his sentiments. “Actually, I’d like you to stick around a little longer. If you’re willing to stay, that is.”

Eivor halted mid-action, unable to hide his interest. “You would?”

“Your company is one of the few things that offers me peace nowadays, Eivor. If you want to take this conversation further, you’re more than welcome here.”

The blonde viking took a hesitant glance outside the door, still carrying the same concerns he had lugged around for the past two weeks.

“But what if someone finds us? Don’t you think it’ll strike them as odd that I’ve been with you for so long?”

Sigurd let out a fatigued breath, slowly rising from his bed. “...I don’t care anymore. All this death sitting on our doorstep has shown me just how precious life truly is. I have no idea if I’ll even survive this war, Eivor. I’m not going to spend what could possibly be my final days pretending that I don’t feel anything for you.”

He walked up to his companion, leaving no more than a few inches between them. “I love you, Eivor. And I’m not ashamed to say it.”

Eivor froze at the confession and simply stared at Sigurd in silence, entirely at a loss for words. It wasn’t too long ago that the prince nearly tore himself apart trying to keep their affair a secret, and yet, he was practically declaring his love from the top of the world now. He no longer cared about the rumors that would spread, or the judgmental glances he’d receive. He was finally done hiding, and Eivor wondered if it was time he felt the same.

“Forgive me,” the younger man replied, “I... I don’t know what to say. I just never expected to hear you say those words.”

Sigurd chuckled. “Neither did I. I used to berate myself without pause when I first realized I was growing attached to you. I tried so desperately to shift my attention to Randvi for the sake of this alliance, but... it never worked. Things only deteriorated for me, and as a result, my life turned into a never-ending battle. I was miserable.”

Eivor smirked affectionately. “And now?”

Sigurd returned the grin. “Now, I know what I want at last. I can finally see why the gods led me here, and I’m done pushing against this fate that the Nornir have woven for me. I’m done with living a lie. My only question is... do you feel the same?”

The Wolf-Kissed let his hand drop from the door and focused completely on the man in front of him, peering fondly into his eyes.

“Of course I do. You’ve always been there for me ever since you first arrived at Bjornheimr. The circumstances under which we had to meet will forever leave a scar on this clan, but I can say for certain that our encounter was a blessing.” Eivor beamed brightly at the prince, holding his cheek in his palm. “I love you too, Sigurd. And nothing will ever change that.”

Sigurd’s expression radiated with a vibrant joy upon hearing that, and he pulled Eivor even closer to him, gently pushing him against the wall. He pecked a small kiss on the younger man’s neck and held him securely by the waist, allowing himself to forget about his troubles for just a brief moment.

“Then let us cast away the burdens of our struggles for tonight, and cherish our final hours of peace together. The stability of this war is precarious enough as it is. If anything happens to us, I don’t want to leave this world with regrets. Freya gave you to me as a gift the day we met, and I don’t intend to waste it.”

Eivor closed his eyes in bliss and linked his arms around Sigurd, caressing him in his embrace. The prince’s touch soothed his skin like ice on a fresh burn, and for the first time in a while, he was able to let his mind roam free from its continuous torment. The bond they shared was something that provided Eivor with a tranquility unlike anything else, and he silently begged the gods to keep his lover safe.

“From here to Valhalla,” Eivor whispered warmly, “I’ll always be at your side, Sigurd.”