#yes it is 4 am yes I am aware it is another face close-up

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 11

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: very brief daemon cameo here. but he'll be back next chapter. please leave comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Upon Daemon's abrupt leave, the king named Rhaenyra his heir and she has since then set out to look for a suitable match. Though the crown princess was loathe to leave, you envy the fact that she is permitted to leave King's Landing at all.

There is a knock on your door. "Princess?"

You open the door and smile at the knight, "Erryk."

Erryk nods and tries to smile back at you. It is hard, considering you look like you have been crying. He tries to lift your spirits by saying, "I am flattered to know I am now set apart."

You take his arm after closing your door, "you have always been set apart, good ser."

The two of you walk off and break fast together. It is silent, as it has been for two moons now. You have not told him any stories since your husband's leave. You barely speak at all, in fact. Most of the time you lock yourself in your room and he pretends he does not hear your sobs. To say he is concerned is an understatement.

And, of course, there was another matter.

Once more, in silence, you walk down the halls, this time with him trailing behind you. You are headed for your father's office. Once there, you knock on his door, and he answers.

Erryk hotly eyes Otto before nodding in regard, "Lord Hand."

"Has my daughter eaten?" is all Lord Hand ever says, to him or his brother.

"Yes," your ward replies each time.

Erryk watches as your father takes your hand and links it in his arms. He leans towards you and gentle speaks, as he has ever since you threw yourself into the sea. He even rubs your knuckles as you walk off to the maester's ward. Yet, through it all, Erryk finds no comfort in this new found gentleness your father offers. He is deeply suspicious, but for your sake, he tries to convince himself your father has changed.

Each day, without fail, you and your father visit your maester together, and each day, without fail, he worries for you more and more.

Erryk straightens up when the door to the maester's opens. He is quick to come to your side and offer his arm as you wave your father good bye. Otto does not regard you before walking off. He never does.

You smile at Erryk once it's just the two of you. The latter asks, "how are you feeling?"

You notice the lines on his forehead, and it makes your lips flatten. You tilt your head, "same as I felt yesterday," you place a hand on his cheek, "and the day before... so do not worry for me."

"Forgive me, princess," Erryk lowers his gaze and pulls your hand away, "but such a thought cannot comfort me for you have been nothing but sad since Daemon left."

You clasp your hands together, "that's hardly his fault."

"Is it not?" Erryk questions rather harshly.

"Not really..." you offer a soft smile, "none but my brother remembers the days prior to my sadness." You chuckle under your breath, "and even then, I am aware he feeds me honeyed words"

Erryk gulps when you take his arm. He wants so badly to caress your cheeks as you bring a beaming smile to your face.

"Do not torture yourself trying to make me happy," you raise your brows at him as you lead him off, "you did not meet me happy, Erryk, and it is not your job to make the impossible happen."

You examine his expression as you make your way back to your chambers. You had hoped he could find some sort of comfort in this truth, but he looks only more worried. You sigh, "would you like to know why it is I visit the maester everyday?"

Erryk knits his brows, "I only like what you want."

"..."

"And if my lady wanted it, she would have already told me why her father brings her to the maesters daily."

You carefully mutter his name.

He stares at you for a moment, hand itching to clutch your cheeks. He holds himself back but mutters your name with such a softness, it makes your skin prick with goosebumps.

Your breath hitches and you have to look away. You huff and lick your lips, "I am with child."

He stops in his tracks.

You pull away to stand before him. You feel incredibly self-conscious as his face contorts.

"My-" he starts by then bows his head, "Seven bless you for the fortunate news," he slowly looks up at you, "congratulations."

You slowly raise your brows, "you congratulate me yet appear so frightened."

"No," he shakes his head, "I am not frightened... merely... shocked."

You aimlessly look off.

"... and perhaps... worried."

You chuckle, soft and dry, "worry will do none of us any good."

"Does the prince know?"

You look back at him. You shake your head, "no one knows."

He clenches his jaw.

"I plan to tell Arryk next," you rub your belly, "soon, I will be showing... and I do not want you to be frightened."

There is much Erryk wishes to say, much he wishes to promise you. I promise to sever any hand that rises harm you or your child. I promise, so long as I breathe, to do all I am able to assure your safety. But he says nothing because he knows you will cry. He says nothing because he can sense that you are frightened.

You begin to walk off again and Erryk wordlessly follows. You look back at him, finding him in deep thought with his gaze lowered. You turn to your fingers and fidget with them, "I did not want to announce it in case it does not last."

You can feel him looking at you.

"Even now, we do not know what the future holds."

He clenches his fists tightly, "princess-"

You turn.

"-I know it means nothing, but I believe you are stronger than you think. I have seen it, your strength... and your happiness, however small and fleeting you may think it."

Your eyes water. You reach out for him and squeeze his hand, "do not hold yourself in such low regard. Your words mean everything to me, Erryk."

You walk back to your chambers and invite Erryk inside. He remains stood by the door as you get quill and parchment. You have been writing daily two letters— one, which comes easy:

𝔐𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯, ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔡𝔞𝔶. ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔲𝔫𝔢 𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔴𝔢'𝔩𝔩 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔰𝔬𝔬𝔫. ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔩𝔶 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔫 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤'𝔰 𝔏𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔢, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔦𝔱. ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔢. ℑ 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔶𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔫𝔬𝔬𝔫. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯, 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢. ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡. ℑ𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥. 𝔚𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔞𝔫. 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔫 𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯.

... and another which takes far greater effort and attempts to complete:

𝔗𝔬 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔯 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔗𝔬 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡, 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔩𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩-𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤. ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔰𝔞𝔣𝔢𝔱𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔴𝔞𝔯 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡. 𝔇𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔡, ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔡𝔬𝔲𝔟𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔠𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔟𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰. ℑ 𝔰𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔭 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔰𝔱. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔦𝔫 𝔞 𝔴𝔞𝔶 ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯, 𝔪𝔶 𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯, 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯, 𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔦𝔫 𝔞 𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢 𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔵𝔢𝔰. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔟𝔞𝔠𝔨, 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔱 𝔪𝔢. ℑ 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯 ��𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔱 𝔟𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔱 𝔞𝔩𝔩. 𝔇𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔪𝔢? 𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔣 ℑ 𝔲𝔭𝔰𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔬𝔣𝔣. ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔡𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔰𝔨𝔢𝔡. ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔩𝔶 𝔬𝔣𝔣 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔭𝔱 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔢, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔪, 𝔖𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔶, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔰𝔰

In the end, this is what you sent:

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. 𝔐𝔞𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔢𝔫 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔯𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔰. ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲, ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔵𝔢𝔰, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔞𝔣𝔢. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔩𝔶. 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔩𝔶, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔢.

—of course, after reading it aloud to Erryk, just to be sure it was appropriate.

Erryk has only ever assured you that whatever it is you mean to tell your husband is more than appropraite, but for once, he offers that you add something. "Perhaps you should tell him that you're... you know."

You spare him a glance as you seal your letters with wax and shake your head, "why? Do you think he would return if I did?"

No. Erryk does not hold him in such a high regard.

"If he wanted to respond, he would. No matter what I have to say, I cannot change his mind if he's already set it," you stand, "and again... we don't know what the future holds."

You were right.

Woe is you who understood the inner workings of your husband. Daemon was in the middle of chewing tough, flavorless meat when he received your latest letter. You were right about not being able to change his mind about writing to you, but you were wrong in thinking your words wouldn't bring him to write back.

It would have, that is, if he ever read them.

The prince goes to Caraxes and feeds him what remained of his food. He then goes to his tent and chucks your letter along with the rest of it. He lies down in his cot and wonders what you write to him about. He wonders if you miss his touch, then touches himself to the thought of you.

A moon passes. Though you knew neither your maester nor your father would ever trick you into believing you were with child when you were not, the truth of it all only set in upon catching a glimpse of your bare body in the mirror. You had taken a warm bath in the evening because you felt sore, and upon seeing how big your breasts had become and how your belly protruded in a way it has not, you realize why you were so sore and just how real it was that you were carrying a child.

It was terrible that upon your awareness of the changes in your body, so much started to change. You found it harder to fit into your clothes as your breasts and arms required much more space than normal. Your face began to change as well, and you could scarcely recognize your own reflection with how swollen you looked. What's worse, is that your skin began to break out with painfully deep pimples.

You knew that you shouldn't be picking at them, but you couldn't help yourself, so you did, and soon your face, your neck, and even your back was littered with red blotches. You were so horrified with the way you looked, you barely left your room.

It was then Alicent began to worry.

"Just place it there," Viserys points haphazardly from where he sat.

"Here?" Alicent places the figure near some tiny stone trees.

The king looks, "no-" then comes behind her, guiding her hand from behind. Alicent tenses when his other hand comes to her waist. Viserys moves her hand and Alicent finally places the figure. The former smiles, "there."

Alicent catches her breath as the king pulls away.

Viserys sits and continues carving out the piece he had at hand. After a few moments, he notices Alicent staring at him. He quirks a brow, "something wrong, my dear?"

"Have you heard from your brother?"

He releases his block and leans back on his chair, "no."

Alicent nods, lowering her gaze.

"Why?"

She shakes her head.

"Come now," Viserys stands, "you can tell me."

Alicent looks at him when he takes her hand. She presses her lips as she feels her heart race. Her voice trembles, "m-my sister."

He hums, "has something happened to her?"

She rapidly shakes her head, "I barely see her anymore. She stays in her room days on end."

"I see," he nods, "did she and Daemon argue before he left?"

"I-" she shrugs as the king pulls away, going back to his chair, "I don't know."

Viserys spares her a look before picking up his block.

"I do know that she feels abandoned. First, Gwayne, now the prince," Alicent sighs, "she has no one."

"She has you."

She shakes her head, "she and my brother have always been close, close in a way twins are, close in a way I can never understand. She does not regard me as dearly, I don't think."

This makes his brows furrow. He tilts his head, "that is not true. Many a man would regard you dearly, Alicent."

Her throat tightens.

"And your sister is not a man," Viserys raises a hand, "does she not like to pray?"

Alicent nods slowly.

"You might want to invite her to the temple. It might cheer her up."

The girl rubs her hands together and nods. She then curtsies and heads for the door, that is, until Viserys stops her.

The king rises and takes her hand, "eager to leave, are you?"

"N- I-"

"I don't bore you, do I?"

Alicent shakes her head, "n-no! Not at all, I simply--"

"I jest," Viserys chuckles, pressing a kiss at the back of her hand, "go to her." He rubs her knuckles, "she is most fortunate to have your affections."

Alicent curtsies again and leaves.

As she makes her way to your chambers, she sees one of your servants and calls for her. The servant girl is quick to greet the lady and Alicent notices the letters in her hands.

"Have you gone to my sister?" she asks.

The servant girl nods, "yes."

"How is she?" the red haired girl sighs.

"She... is her normal self," she nods slowly.

Alicent shakes her head, "... sad?"

"Yes," she agrees.

"Who are those for?" Alicent motions to the letters she was holding.

"These?" the girl raises, "ah... your brother and good-brother, milady."

"Oh," she tilts her head slightly, "does she write to them often?"

She nods, "everyday, milady."

"Oh," she blinks. There is something about this comforts her and... hurts her. She thinks about what she confessed to the king, how she was aware you did not regard her so dearly, and yet, there was an ache in her heart to know her sister would not seek solace in her during this time.

Alicent dismisses the servant then comes to your chambers.

The Cargyll stood outside your door greets her, "my lady."

"Ser..." she nods, "Erryk?"

"Arryk, my lady."

"Ah, yes," she lowers her head, "forgive me."

"An honest mistake," he smiles, "you are here for your sister, yes?"

Alicent nods.

He turns and knocks on your door, "princess. Your sister, Lady Alicent, is here."

"I-" she steps forward and raises her voice, "wish to invite to pray at the temple."

Arryk turns to her and smiles. Alicent smiles back and they both wait for you to respond. Only, it seems you are really taking your time.

She begins to pick at her nails and the minutes pass. She sighs, turning to ser Arryk, "maybe she is asleep."

He shakes his head, "she does not sleep at this time. She is probably changing."

"How do you now? Do you go inside to check on her?"

"I only come inside when she needs help with something," he nods curtly, "or, if perhaps, I feel sense danger in the air."

Alicent tilts her head, "but how do you know?"

"The princess is a creature of habit. Though she is good at concealing her emotions, you can only hide so much from someone who watches you closely."

"How close do you watch her, ser?"

Arryk is taken aback by the question. It was in all accounts innocent; Alicent meant nothing more that what she said, but it did not feel such to the knight. It feels as though he was caught staring longingly at you right this moment. "W-What?"

He is thankful Alicent does not get to clarify herself because you finally emerge.

Alicent perks and deflates all at once upon seeing you. You smile at her through the lacy, black veil you have covering your face. She returns your embrace as you hug her, but she cannot help but knit her brows at you, or rather, that veil on you.

"You look well, sister," you smile, taking her hands.

She takes a moment before replying, "and you...'re wearing a veil."

Your smile flattens.

Alicent is quick to shake her head, "it looks good. Very stylish."

You contain your frown and take her arm, "I am most pleased to have you here."

The both of you begin to walk off and Arryk follows after. Alicent asks, "you are?"

"Of course!" you give her a look, "why, you are normally with the princess-" you raise a finger, "-which I do not have any qualms with. Most people dream to have a friendship that you both have. But I am glad you have a moment to spare for me."

Alicent's brows raise.

"Rhaenyra is doing better now, I hope?"

"Yes," she nods slowly, "she can now talk about the queen without weeping."

"Better than I ever was," you squeeze her arm.

Alicent offers you a soft smile.

The sight of her face brings you comfort, "I have missed your company, and your pretty face, my pretty girl."

She chuckles.

"You inherited our mother's beauty and left none for me—"

"That's not-"

"—especially none for Gwayne."

Alicent chortles and you giggle in response.

Arryk smiles, feels his heart clench at the tender display before him. Thank the Seven for Alicent Hightower.

"You should join us, sister," Alicent squeeze your hand, "Rhaenyra enjoys your company as much as I do."

You shake your head, offering her a kind smile, "I would not want to infect you with my bitterness."

For a moment, Alicent wants to ask if that was why you were wearing a veil, but she decides against it.

Arryk stood a few paces away from you as you prayed in the temple. Both you and your sister were on your knees with your hands clasped and eyes closed as you recited your prayers.

"Lastly," Alicent mutters, "we pray for Daemon's safety-"

You open your eyes and turn to your sister.

"-that he, as well as the Velaryons and their fleet, may find swift victory so that they may all return to their families."

You unveil yourself, "seven hear us."

"Seven hear us," Alicent ends, bowing her head for the final time.

You try not to think of the acne staring back at Alicent when she turns to you, but her initial reaction to seeing your face makes it quite hard. She does you a favor of not saying anything regarding it however.

You squeeze her hand and whisper, "there is something I must tell you."

She gives you a solemn expression.

"I am with child."

Her eyes widen and her lips part.

"Of course, father knows, but I have not told anyone, save my wards," you shake your head, "it is why my skin is littered with blemishes, and why I do not wish to come out of my room."

She frowns, calling out your name softly.

"Not even my husband knows, Alicent," you shake your head, "and I did not tell him because-" you eyes begin to water, "because the chances of a miscarriage is still high."

Alicent can feel your fear, your worry.

"But gods, I feel like I will go mad if I keep this in any longer," you break down into a sob.

She immediately seals you into an embrace. Arryk is immediately alerted by the sound of your cries. He observes for a moment but does not act, knowing you need this moment with your sister.

Alicent feels her chest tighten, not because of how tightly you embrace her, but because of how evidently you needed this hug.

"I want to go home," you mumble.

She nods, "I'll take you back to you-"

"To Oldtown," you sniffle, taking in her scent. She smelled like your mother and it made you wonder if your presence ever felt comforting for anyone, or if you just inspired distress, "this is not my home."

"Sister," she tries to look at you, "you are married to the prin-"

"And where is he?" you blurt, pulling away.

Alicent frowns at the redness of your eyes and the wobbling of your lips.

"I feel nothing but emptiness here," you place your hand on your belly, "I do not want that emptiness to manifest within me-" you shake your head, "I do not want my bitterness to kill my unborn child."

Alicent's cheeks instantly become wet.

You wipe her tears away and frown, "will you try and help me convince father to send me home?"

She stares at you, "sister..."

It is an impossible ask, and you both know it.

"Please," you brush her red locks, "he has always favored you."

Alicent does not know if that was true. She lowers her gaze and shakes her head, "I... I will try."

Your lips wobble as you watch worry manifest on her features. Guilt begins to choke you, "forgive me for asking much of you, my baby sister."

Alicent shakes her head quicker then steels herself away, "no. I-" she nods, "I want to help."

You squeeze her hands, "do not force it if it is too hard."

Later that evening, Alicent builds her nerve and visits the Lord Hand's office. The moment she enters the room, she knows she's made a mistake, for he was in a sour mood.

"What?" he snaps, head in his hand.

It was too late, however. He will be cross if she says she's changed her mind, he will be cross if she lies and presents him with something unimportant, and he will be cross if she tells him what she actually came here for. She takes a breath, might as do it, "it's regarding my sister."

Otto immediately perks, eyes squinting, "what of her?"

"She... asked me to ask you if she could... continue the rest of her term in Oldtown."

The man tilts his head, eyes widening in disbelief, "I beg your pardon?"

"She sai-"

"She told you she's carrying?" he points a finger.

Alicent tenses. She gulps, "yes."

"When?" he snaps, coming to a stand.

"J-" she watches her father walk over, "just today."

Otto's face is hard as he recalls how you begged him not to make a spectacle of your childbearing, lest your body fails you. He thinks there is something to be said about how you were now willing to divulge this information with Alicent. He raises his brows, "who else knows?"

Alicent feels cornered. It does not feel right to divulge this information.

"Did she tell Daemon?" he places his hands on her shoulder.

She stammers, "I-... I do not know."

Otto examines her daughter. He thinks she knows more than she lets on but does not pursue it further. He sighs, caressing her cheek before pulling away, "you know, you both know, I will not allow such a thing."

He walks back to his desk and Alicent takes in a deep breath.

"If she is here, then I can see to her needs."

"She needs the warmth of home," she says.

Otto sighs as he sits down. He motions vaguely to his child, "this is her home. She's married to Daemon Targaryen."

"But the prince is not here," she steps forward, "she can return when he does."

He tilts his head. He knows her boldness comes stems from her love from you. That is why he says, "and do you really think she can return if she leaves?"

Alicent's face falls. It is incredibly subtle, but Otto catches it nonetheless.

"If your sister were to go to your brother in Oldtown, what do you think the Rogue Prince will say?" her father leans on the desk, "you bore witness to how he acted when your sister came to Gwayne when he was knocked off his horse at the tourney. Do you think he will enjoy the fact she retreated to him in this time? Do you think he will care enough to retrieve her once he returns from the Stepstones? Or will he squander in brothels and sire a thousand bastards?"

She begins to pick at her nails.

"And what of your sister's child?" Otto raises a brow, "what if she loses the babe during the journey to Oldtown? What if she loses the babe once she's there? Who then is to be blamed?"

"I-"

"And what if the baby does not inherit a single Valyrian trait?" he leans back on his chair, "what if the babe looks like a Hightower and Daemon decided to accuse her of infidelity?"

"But she would never-"

"I know that," Otto raises a finger, "you know that. Does her husband share in this knowledge?"

"..."

"It would look like she left to hide her sins."

Alicent's heart begins to pound.

"Do you understand the risk, child?"

She opens her mouth but nothing comes out.

Otto sighs and stands again, "I understand you mean well."

Alicent is at the brink of tears as her father approaches her again.

"But there is no way for your sister to go to Oldtown," he ushers her to the door, "without risking much." Lord Hand opens the door and gives his daughter one last, "not unless the king allows such a thing."

Alicent takes in her father's features. He smiles softly at her. Her stomach feels uneasy.

"Go to bed, Alicent," he strokes her hair, "your sister is mine to worry about, not yours."

The door closes.

It was a shock that Alicent came to you the next day, telling you that you were set to leave for Oldtown at noon. You were overjoyed and sealed your sister into the tightest hugs, "I can't believe you convinced father!"

Alicent rubs your back, softly muttering, "...I really didn't."

"Oh but you did," you chuckled in between sobs, "I owe you my first born's life."

She pulls away and shakes her head, "d-don't- don't say that."

You frown at the worry that over her face. You shake your head, "very well. Forgive me for burdening you with such a thought."

So it was that you left that day for Oldtown. You were grateful the king graciously allowed you to bring both your wards along with you. You would would have been less so, had you known Alicent requested it specifically, even less had known it was not actually your father that she had convinced but the king himself, and less than that to know she was able to do so because she had been visiting him oft since the queen's passing. You would outright abhor it had you known Alicent's relationship with Viserys was borne from your father's encouragement.

Your unawareness of this made you deeply cherish the moment you saw your twin brother's face. You were exhausted from the travel, much more than usual, and yet an energy burned within you when you saw Oldtown's heir.

Gwayne outright laughed and pointed at you as you sobbed on your way over to him, "what in god's name is on your face, twin?"

You felt nothing but affection from his blatant mockery.

He coos as he pulls you into a hug once you are close enough, "now, now. I cannot have a princess weeping in my arms." He is relieved by the warmth of your being. He has not been embraced so tenderly you've been separated. "Not an ugly one at least."

"I am with child, you miscreant," you mutter against his chest.

Gwayne's rubs your back as his face hardens with worry, "I know. Father wrote to me."

You sniffle and pull away. You glare at him, "yet you still dare to be mean to your beloved sister?"

"Spare me your tears," he says rather genuinely as takes in your wet face, "your cry baby attitude will get nowhere with me."

Your lips wobble at the sentiment.

Gwayne actually starts feeling bad, but then you release a soft laugh.

"You fucking rat," you scratch your eyes as you break into a giggle.

Your twin gasps, turning to your wards who were approaching. Lord Hightower raises a brow at them, "are you aware your lady has a vulgar mouth on her?"

"Please, Gwayne," you shake your head, "I'm a fucking princess."

The laugh that leaves your brother is ugly, loud, and real.

Yes, your unawareness made you cherish every moment you spend in Oldtown. It was still hard to be with child; there were the food aversions and cravings, soreness, sickness, and mood swings that haunted you, but the spirit of emptiness remained in King's Landing. Now that you were free from the scrutiny of court, from the politicking of your father, there was a lightness within you that you had not felt in a long time.

You recounted the things you and Gwayne used to do when you were younger, then caught yourself imagining your child doing the same. Suddenly, you didn't feel so terrified by the thought of bringing a child into this world. The Cargyll twins can attest to the shift in your demeanor.

It was a shame that a moon's worth of happiness disappeared in an instant all because of a single letter.

Gwayne comes to a stand from his spot upon seeing you react so physically to whatever it was you were reading. The Cargyll twins who were breaking fast with both of you, stand to attention as well.

You clutch your chest as your other hand crushes the letter you just read.

"What is it?" your brother asks, "what has happened?"

"It's Alicent," you feel your chest tighten.

Gwayne comes to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder. He is alarmed by your tension, "sister, sister. Breathe."

You clutch your belly. It's much pronounced now, and you know it adds to your struggle to breathe.

"Breathe," your twin repeats, "that's it."

You manage to calm yourself, but soon tears begin to fall from your eyes, "Gwayne."

"Yes, I'm Gwayne," he squeezes your shoulder, "what's happened to Alicent?"

You shake your head and look up at him, "she's getting married."

The man pulls his head back. His brows knit, "married? To whom?"

Your breath hitches as you push yourself up to a stand, "to the king."

Whatever confusion he had regarding your reaction instantly dissipates. This match reeked of politicking, politicking from the Hand of the King. Gwayne clenches his jaw as helps you up. He feels the same emotions he did upon learning of your own betrothal. History was repeating itself, yet now, your brother's chest is tighter. He had always believed your father wouldn't be so cruel to willingly give you to the Rogue Prince, but now... he realizes this was something he wanted to believe.

Gwayne calls your name out as you begin to walk off, "where are you going?"

"Where do you think?" you snap.

You despise every second spent on the way back to King's Landing. You are exhausted when you return and you are loathe to see your father waiting for you.

Otto calls your name and greets you with a smile. His glee is genuine. He is wholeheartedly pleased to see how much better you look from your visit to Oldtown, "I am glad to see time with your twin has livened you, my girl."

As true as that may be, it was your anger that livened you in this moment. You despise him as he takes your cheeks and kisses your forehead. You destest him as he grins.

"I have missed you."

You wish you hated him more as not to be so affected by this. Your nostrils flare, "where is my sister?"

His face falls slightly at your complete ignorance to his greeting. He pulls away, "getting ready for her nuptials."

You stare at him. The burst of affection he had for your wanes enough for him to recognize your look, your glare. It was written all over. Anger. Defiance. Hurt. It could not be contained.

"Am I not enough for you, father?" you quip under your breath as your eyes begin to water.

Otto looks around then takes your hand, "let us speak insi-"

"Is it not enough?!" you break free from his hold. You seethe, "—that I am about to deliver you a royal grandchild and you should require my baby sister to do the sa-"

"She is not a baby," he quips.

You clench your jaw, "she just turned ten and-"

"She is in ripe marrying age."

You turn away from him. You are about to walk away, and he knows it. He cannot stand it.

"She did this so you could go to Oldtown," he snaps, pointing an accusing finger at you.

You give the Hand one last look before going to your sister.

Alicent is equally overjoyed and worried by your appearance. Just as she assures you that you didn't have to come all this way, you silence her by telling her, "it is not too late."

Your sister is frozen in her spot as you explain the plans you have for her to escape her marriage with the king. She can tell that you have thought about it greatly, considering the speed and detail in which you speak it. The only thing that manages to quiet you is the way she says, "it is done."

"W-what?"

"I am decided," Alicent shakes her head as her eyes begin to water, "do you not notice how your plans to save me demand your suffering?"

Your brows knit, "I will suffer no more than I already do."

She sniffles as she speaks your name, "when mother died... I watched you writhe in pain. None but Gwayne ever offered you true comfort."

"And you!" you clutch your cheeks, "you foolish girl! Do you not understand, I wish to free you from-"

"We are all of us destined to be a prisoner," Alicent mutters as tears fall from her eyes, "us, more than most. If not the king, I will be married off to another man I do not want."

You clench your jaw, "Ali-"

"At least if I am queen, I can save you from Daemon."

Your heart stops. You rest your forehead on hers, "you stupid little girl."

Your words burn her. She watches as you pull away, finding the tears staining your cheeks.

"If you are doing this for me, and you marry him... I will never speak to you again."

Her face drops.

"Did I not tell you that I should be the one to do such things for you?"

"Sister," she takes your hand, "... I am stronger than you."

"... oh."

"I can help."

You lower your gaze and nod. You pull away from her and walk away.

Less than a fortnight later, your sister marries the king and is proclaimed the new Queen of the Seven Realms.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Vow 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, arranged marriage, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!August Walker

Summary: your father’s murder leaves you in the hands of a dangerous man.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

August draws you onto the dance floor. He tugs your arm so you swing into him, hitting his chest with an oomph as the first song begins. Your first song. Every girl dreams of this, don’t they? Their wedding day. Their first dance. But what about the father-daughter dance? 

You try not to think of anything but that moment. Not that bloody night, not the vows strangled from your throat, or the incessant pulsing of your heart. Just move your feet, sway, let the melody wrap you up and hold you close. 

Your husband has one hand on your lower back, his other cradles your gloves fingers and guides them onto his shoulder. You tilt your head up to see him. The spark in his blue eyes dispels your breath like fog. 

His hand falls to your hip as he turns you with him, moving smoothly around the floor, before all those watching eyes. Beneath the music is a drawn hush. His audience, his people, watch their new king take his crown jewel. 

His hand slips down and brushes the curve of your ass. He pulls you flush to him and growls. You squeak in surprise. It is another show of his dominance. Another proclamation of his power. If your father was alive, he would have his hands cut off but your father is dead and his hand remains as it is. 

“You are not his daughter anymore, you are my wife,” August intones under his breath. 

“Yes,” agree in a hollow gulp. 

“So smile,” he taunts. “Aren’t you happy to have a husband?” 

“Yes,” you repeat again. 

“You don’t seem it,” he challenges. 

You twitch. You make yourself lean into him. You drag one hand from his shoulder and to his chest. You feel the muscle beneath and your chest thrums. You feel his power nested beneath his suit. His cheek dimples, he’s pleased at the play of fear on your face. 

You make yourself smile and run your hand up to his collar and tickle along his neck. His throat bobs and you flutter over the short stubble already poking through his skin. He leans his head down and you nearly trip over yourself as you strain to kiss him. 

He hums, still moving you in his thrall, and his tongue flits over your lip. You let him in. He twirls you and bends you backward as he stills your feet. He deepens the kiss as he keeps you off kilter. The crowd jeers and eggs him on, shattering the brittle tension. 

He parts and puts you back on your feet. He spins you away and pulls you back in. You are weak to his whim. You are his wife, his possession.  

As he turns you, you see your mother. She watches in sombre stillness. She sits as others stands to watch, others joining the fun with their partners. 

Your hand drifts down and you keep it high on August’s shoulder as your other nestles into his side beneath his jacket. He purrs, content at your submission. He kneads your ass and breathes over your hair and veil. He toys with it as it brushes his knuckles. 

“Keep this on tonight,” he growls. 

Tonight. 

You quiver at the thought. This is only the beginning. That small hole in the back of your mind splits into a gaping tear and your fear floods in. 

“Your father always was greedy but I daresay his worst offense was keeping you locked up,” he snarls and kisses your forehead, the trim of his mustache bristling along your hairline. 

You shiver and curl your fingers against him. You cling to him as your legs threaten to give out. Your family mantle is suddenly a chain around your neck. The iron ball at the end will only drag you down. 

He nuzzles your hair, “will you shake when I have you under me?” 

You whimper, “please.” 

“Denial cannot protect you. It didn’t protect him,” he growls. “I could drag you out right now and fuck you over a toilet. Hell, I could throw you down on this floor and throw your skirts up and they would cheer me on. Every last one of them.” 

Terror surges through you and you pull back to look him in the face. To this point, he’s been patient. Stony and strict but not unkind. You can see clearly then what makes him so dangerous. His boldness. His shamelessness. His iron determination. 

“Yes, I know. I know you could. You can,” you eke out. “But I am being good. Sir, August, why would you be cruel?” 

He smirks, “I’m not, am I? I’m reminding you that I can, if you choose to stoke it.” 

“I understand,” you quaver and rub his chest appeasingly. Instinctively as you try to calm this sudden rise in him. “I can be good.” 

“For me or to me?” He wonders. 

“For-- to—Both. Whatever you will have of me,” you plead as you rub beneath his jacket. “Tell me what you want?” 

He stares down at you. His eyes sparkle and the corners of his lips tweak. He brings his knuckles up to pet your cheek. He considers you then stops, his hand on your hip. 

“It is time,” he booms out and signals to someone unseen. 

You turn to search for whoever it is. From your other side, a man approaches with a chair. You spin back and your mother stands. Her hands are fists. Her face is steel. She watches as her shame threatens to boil over. 

August puts you in the chair by your shoulders. You look around as the dancers still and circle around. Those still at their table angle around to see.  

You squirm as your husband gets to his knees. He puts his hands behind his back as Margot comes forward to lift your skirts. You stifle a yelp as she throws them over his head and he bows to drag his lips along your ankle. 

You twitch as he creeps up your stocking. You know what this is. You’ve been to many weddings. You always found the display terribly humiliating.  

His breath plumes over your leg as he reaches your thigh and he pinches you with his teeth. You cry out and your hands are grabbed before you can swat at your dress. Theo pulls your wrists behind you and you writhe as August continues his mission beneath the layers of tulle. 

His nose brushes along your leg and he kisses the tender flesh as you quiver. He nips and licks in a faux search for your garter, only biting down on it as you whine in discomfort. He tugs it down slowly as his growl rumbles against you. 

He brings it down the length of your leg and the skirts fall away from his head as he sits back on his heels. He has the lace in his teeth as his hair is askew from his plunge beneath the fabric. He grabs the garter and waves it at the ground as he stands and chortles in victory. You’re released and fix your skirts frantically. 

“Ahhh,” he scrunches it to his nose and inhales, “I can smell it. My wife is ready.” He shakes the garter in his fist and the crowd laughs, “aren’t you?” 

He turns to you and scoops you up. You cry out as he brings you against his chest. He sighs and looks around at the crowd; at his empire. 

“To the boss!” Theo calls out as he raises a glass and the entire room mirrors him in anointing their new king. 

[merlinssassybeard]

'Ex' Husband Gojo - Better without me

Part 2 || series masterlist

Tags- gojo x fem reader, angst, fluff

Synopsis- A look at Gojo's feelings for his now estranged wife. While his wife goes through a breakdown

7th December, 2016

It was Satoru's 27th birthday.

Satoru knew but it really wasn't his priority honestly. Besides, he's not really in a mental state to even think of it.

He recalls how you, his wife, would plan various different things each year for his birthday. You, his joy and the light of his dim life.

All gone now...

Gojo had finished his mission overseas as soon as he could and returned back to Tokyo to submit reports of the mission and then again had to leave for his next mission in Seoul, South Korea.

He was aware of the incident with you just a day ago. Shoko had told him that it was just dehydration which caused a little fever and that everything's okay.

Gojo wasn't convinced. He didn't knew why, even when he wanted to believe Shoko, his six eyes indicated otherwise. They tell him there's more and Shoko probably knows but staying quiet.

Satoru had a few hours in his hand before leaving for the Airport check in by 4 am.

He decided he'd go to the Estate, which now belonged to you (not legally). He wanted to drop by the souvenirs from that particular day since he didn't really got any chance to.

Satoru Gojo is very prideful and quite egoistic and that is no secret. One day, his pride and ego will be the death of him.

7th December 2016 || 1 am

Satoru arrived at the Estate.

The air felt heavy but he went in anyways. Flashes of that day playing endlessly in his head. How everything unfolded and how you ran after him to stop him but his infinity barred you. Satoru feels guilty.

He usually doesn't have any guilt or regret regarding anything but with you... its different. He shouldn't have just walked away maybe. Maybe talking to you and trying to understand you where you're coming from would've helped.

He enters the house and is welcomed by the sleepy head staff.

"Welcome back Lord Satoru. Shall i prepare your room? I'll warm the food-", the head staff, Mr Kawaguchi, asked.

"No need", "is y/n asleep? How's she doing?", Satoru asked as if didn't even hear what Mr Kawaguchi said.

"Yes, Lord Satoru, Lady y/n is better now.", he said and started guiding Gojo to the room where you resided, "Lady y/n had trouble sleeping so the doctor had prescribed some sleeping pills"

Both of them reached outside your room. Satoru ordered the Mr Kawaguchi to leave him.

Satoru closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying his best to suppress his intrusive thoughts of hugging you and tell you that he's sorry (something he would never utter), have a conversation with you to figure things out on what is the root cause of such an abrupt bringing up of something as hideous as a Divorce.

He opened the sliding doors and entered the room for the first time after the last time he'd been here.

You were sleeping on your back with your arms all around and legs in another direction, trying to cover all of the space of the bed as much as you could.

This was your marital bed. A bed custom made to fit the giant 6'4 of a husband of yours.

But now it was just you...

He looked around the room. Recalling the old times, the 4 years of marriage he had.

What a blissful dream it was... just you and him against the world. Deep in love, exploring new things together. The warmth of your palm on his, your blushing cheeks whenever he kissed your lips before leaving for his missions. The nights that he had spent in your warmth on this very bed, in this very room. Old times when you slept in the protection of his big strong arms or when he picked you up from the bed and threw you into the water filled bathtub...

Blissful times indeed...

A smile had crept on Satoru's lips because the memories.

He placed the bag of souvenirs by the bedside table and leaned down to look at your face.

Dark circles, slight hollow cheeks, bony hands, piles and piles of medications.

'Oh what have you done y/n', he thinks looking at you.

If he had to be honest, he's never been this vulnerable in his life like he is now. So many emotions flooding him that he couldn't help but remove his dark glasses and lean down to your face.

He placed his hands gently caressing your soft hair and dropped a kiss on your forehead.

You were lost in your dreams and Satoru was in his. His dreams where he had you and took better care of you and did everything right.

But that's just a dream. A dream with no scope of fulfillment...

He knew this is the last and final time he'll see you this up close.

"Y/n.." he whispered, "I hope you find-", he struggled to say any further but still got himself to say it, "I hope you find someone better who will give you a better life... that i failed too."

Satoru couldn't bear to look at you any further from this moment. He gave his blessings to you for a better life and left that instant.

He knew he won't stop you from leaving if... no, when thats what you want. A person who loves, will never hold their lover captive against their will.

And that's what Satoru believes in...

It was 8am in the morning.

You were sitting in your bed, wrapped in the thick blankets while sipping your soup that your attendant brought while Shoko sat in the gray arm chair beside your bed reading newspaper.

Shoko has been visiting you every morning and evening to check up on you whether you're taking your pills timely and also to give you company considering the fact that you barely have any friends.

Your only friend, if you have to name with whom you would share everything would be Shoko and Mariko Zenin (whom you befriended during Clan meetings.).

You saw today's date.

'7th December', it read.

"Shoko... its his birthday today...", you mumbled with your head bowed

Shoko looked at you and she could see it, all the emotions that reflected on your face.

She wanted to confront you that why don't you tell him that it was all but a mistake afterall didn't he try to persuade you? So this should be easy?

She knew though this isn't the right time because you're still recovering but she couldn't hold herself...

"Y/n", Shoko began and you looked up at her.

"Y/n why don't you tell him about it? He has all the right to know you know! Didn't you say he persuaded you to not to leave? And you don't want to leave either!" She made a point. "So just call... this weird thing between you two off already. And be together"

You kept blankly staring at her.

Is it all really that easy? As if!

"Shoko, i can't." You told her.

"But why? Wouldn't it be easier?"

"Shoko you don't understand! I can't... i can't just tell Satoru that he was going to be father! You don't get it!", you tried to explain her.

"But why? Y/n why? Try me!", Shoko got up from the arm chair and sat on the bed and held your hand.

You didn't want to tell her. You really don't want to but she's the only person whom you trust.

"Shoko you don't get it, you don't get it!", you insisted

"Try me y/n!"

"You won't get it Shoko!", you kept refusing

"Y/n!", Shoko kept insisting.

"Satoru didn't want to be father and that was our mutual agreement before we got married! I've always taken precautions to stand by my word ever since our marriage... but Satoru's family has been pressing me to get pregnant... So i didn't take any pills one day and a month later found out i was carrying... our baby.."

Shoko was left speechless.

But you continued with tears rolling down...

"I thought... when Satoru will return I will tell him everything but before i could... i-i lost our child". You struggled

"Maybe it was the God's way of punishing me for trying to force an innocent man like Satoru something he isn't prepared for.", you laughed through the tears. "Maybe its better this way Shoko. We should Divorce. I can't carry children to make his family happy anyway..."

Shoko wanted to say but the words just wouldn't come to her tongue. Maybe its because its not her place to interfere.

"Y/n...", Shoko didn't know what to say any further so she leaned closer and hugged you.

You hugged her back. You felt like a large rock got off of your chest now that you told her everything...

But things were about to take a different direction because one of the lady staff was secretly eavesdropping your conversation.

And she heard... all of it...

Tags

@sindela @dazai-gojo-kinnie @whats-humanity-lol @thewickedofrizz @phantasmia @ghostllyyz @yihona-san06 @Enaaneaen@sweet-almonds @Angel_🫶🏻@autumn-slaves @wondermilka @hh0pe @kugisakinobarades @witchbybirth @nineooooo @ssc7514 @Hana-patata @blue_spices @haikyuubiggestsimp @urstepmom69 @hueneve @chayunwoo@waosobii @nadzhaf @yoriichiswife @tiltraumadouspart @kirschtein123 @whoisobsessed @Asala @ashthemadwriter @remnirris @svm666 @voidsatoru @staygoldsquatchling02 @dunnowhy-m @nnasv @violetmatcha

If i forgot to tag anyone, i apologise.

A/N- The next chapter will be quite spicy ^v^

[darkmaga-returns]

Introducing the top ten stories they chose not to tell you this week.

The Vigilant Fox

Dec 22, 2024

#10 - Drug regulators BUSTED hiding COVID jab risks.

Internal emails reveal that the TGA (Australia’s FDA) KNEW that, yes, foreign DNA from the COVID shots really could integrate into the human genome—despite repeatedly assuring the public it was impossible.

Rebekkah Barnett dropped the bombshell report exposing what TGA staff were saying behind closed doors—and it’s nothing like the rosy picture they painted in public.

In one email, a TGA staffer debunked Dr. Paul Offit’s claims that DNA from the COVID shots couldn’t integrate into the human genome without an enzyme called integrase. The staffer wrote:

“Foreign DNA can integrate into chromosomal DNA in the absence of an integrase in mammalian cells. This comes from the DNA damage/repair literature where breaks in DNA are repaired through processes called non-homologous end joining or homologous recombination.”

This directly contradicted the TGA’s official narrative, which repeatedly denied that such genomic integration was even possible.

Another email revealed that the TGA wasn’t even aware of studies to back up their public denials. A senior staffer admitted:

“I would be uncomfortable with that [statement about plasmid DNA entering the human genome] as I am unaware of studies which have tested this.”

So, behind closed doors, they had serious, unanswered questions about DNA contamination and the potential for genomic integration. But to the public, they said, “Everything is fine.”

This isn’t how things are supposed to work. Regulators like the TGA are meant to protect people, not withhold critical information.

This is yet another shocking example of how the so-called “experts” prioritized controlling the narrative over presenting the facts.

Adding to the alarm, new research from Yale has found spike protein lingering in the blood years after individuals received their last COVID shot, making concerns about integration with human DNA even more plausible.

Senator Gerard Rennick from Australia joins the show to discuss these damning revelations.

Join 100K+ Substack readers and 1.4 million 𝕏 users who follow the work of Vigilant Fox. Subscribe to Vigilant News for exclusive stories you won’t find anywhere else.Subscribe

(See 9 More Revealing Stories Below)

#9 - Joe Biden Targets Pelosi and Coup Leaders in Stunning Act of Revenge

#8 - Michael Cohen Turns Heads on CNN: Trump Is RIGHT About Media Lies

#7 - CNN Reveals "Troubling" Poll, Showing American Trust In Vaccines Is Plummeting

#6 - The Wall Street Journal drops a bombshell report, exposing Biden’s mental decline from the very START of his presidency.

While you’re here, don’t forget to subscribe to this page for more weekly news roundups.Subscribe

#5 - Pennsylvania Woman Charged with Registering Dead and Non-Existent Voters

#4 - Pfizer mRNA ‘Vaccinated’ Children Significantly More Likely to Get COVID-19 Than Unvaccinated Peers – New Study

#3 - "Stop Squinting at me!" Tim Pool BLASTS Liberal Guest on January 6 LIES

#2 - New Study Finds Hydroxychloroquine Safe with No Evidence of Cardiac Complications

#1 - Biden and Harris Rush Back to White House, prompting speculation that something big is coming.

Share

BONUS #1 - BUSTED: ‘The View’ Co-Host May Face Criminal Investigation

BONUS #2 - The Meat Upgrade You Didn’t Know You Needed

BONUS #3 - Will Most Pregnant Women and Babies Who Get Bird Flu Die?

BONUS #4 - How to Get Ivermectin, Z-Pak and More

BONUS #5 - Outrageous: Homeowner Ends Up in Jail After Calling Police to Evict Squatter From Her Own Home

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 29

Am I actually updating with a new chapter without weeks in between? Shocking!

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27 Content Warnings: violence, light torture All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.

“Where is he?”

I heard a voice through the fog in my brain and I winced as the voice echoed and rattled like coins in a metal tin, loud, scattered, and hard against my throbbing skull.

“I said, where the hell is that orc?” There seemed to be a disturbance around me. 

I heard the shouting again and I deigned to open my eyes. I could see my world through a swollen, weeping narrow view and found myself prone on the ground of an uneven, stone floor. Bits of dank, sodden hay were scattered at my feet and around me. I caught the whiff of rot around me. Only a few feet beyond that were cold, metal bars that contained my useless body. What threat I once had was long gone, I was beyond identifying what was working and what was not, only aware that my body didn’t move the way it used to, and when I tried to move, everything reacted in a sequence and spread from one joint to the next until I had to close my eyes and regain my breath, willing myself to not faint.

I blinked through the pain and soon found my eyes locked with the dark, grim face of someone I recognized. There were parts of him that were familiar to me, parts of him I had seen on another’s face, only that one was  more kind and beautiful. This person was angry, furious. At me. 

Duke Hilmar. The name returned to me slowly and I blinked up at him, vacant of any reaction.

“Orc. I’m sure you lie there, satisfied and full of contempt against me,” He began to scream at me. “What did you do to my son?!”

I couldn’t answer. Loving Altan was never something that would be wrong. A weak thrum of affirmation flowed through me. Yes. Loving him was right. Good. The Duke would never understand.

“Unlock this door.” He spat at the one dressed in red beside him. Memories slowly started to seep back in and I remember they were Red Hunters - for some reason they were allied with the Duke. They silently obeyed and the metal door into my cell swung open with great protest. I winced as the sound reverberated in my head.

The Duke’s hands were suddenly on me, pulling me towards him, dragging me up from the ground. I grimaced and bit back the groan of pain, shuddering. 

“You.” He hissed. There was so much contempt and vitriol aimed at me. “You can’t even begin to understand how much you’ve ruined everything for him. For me. I will see you ruined beyond repair and you will never leave this place alive.”

I felt a hand slide to my thigh and press on the wound from the arrow that had shot at me. I rolled my head back and through labored, stuttering breaths, gasped for reprieve.

The Duke only pressed harder. I could only see white, blinded by the intense pain. I let out a yell that left my throat raw. More animal than man, I could not hold back any longer. I pushed against the hands that held me down and shoved them away. I felt them fall back, but I could only concentrate on one thing at a time. I braced my back against the wall, gasping.

“Do not touch me.” I growled. I struggled to stay on my feet, it felt like my body was sending me signals from every point that it needed to shut down, it needed me to stop, but I held my back straight against the cold stone wall and I breathed. In and out. Focused on staying awake - alive - long enough to fight back. 

“You do not scare me, creature.” The Duke was on the ground, but a smile remained on his face. “You’re pathetic.”

“You should be scared.” My voice was low, no more than a rumble in my chest, but it was enough for the Duke’s eyes to flutter for the briefest moment with fear. “Pathetic as I am, I’m still an orc…and we bite.” I don’t know what came over me at that moment, but I managed to quirk a grim smile.

“You will die a slow death, orc.” He said. “I could have given you mercy if you had let my son go.” He rose to his feet and huffed.

“Altan was never under my control.” I said. “But he certainly was scared of the control you forced on him. A dictator for a father is inconceivable in my home.”

“Be silent, orc.” He hissed. “You have no say in our family matters when you have no knowledge on it whatsoever.” He took a step forward and reached for me, but I swung my arm and swatted him away. Yet he reached with his other hand and gripped me around the throat, I flailed beneath him, but he pressed his weight against me, holding me down. “You think it amusing to see me lose to your kind, don’t you? Yet you are not as clever as you think, orc..” He fished into his pockets and pulled out the vial. It dangled in front of me, mocking and taunting me with the one thing that kept me close to my raebukan. “This is how you’ve controlled him, isn’t it?”

I blinked up at him, but said nothing. Was he insane?

His eyes were manic. “I’ve figured it out. It was there the whole time. My son loses himself to obsession over an orc. It made no sense at first, but it’s because you poisoned him. Now you will tell me, what is the antidote?”

I locked my jaw, shaking my head. 

His hand pressed my throat harder, “Tell me! Now!” 

I did not blink away from his mad expression, despite how desperately I wanted him off of me.

“If you will not tell me, then perhaps your own poison will benefit you.” He said. With his teeth, he unstoppered the vial and I watched in mute horror as he brought the vial towards me and pressed it to my tight lips. “Drink up, greenblood.”

No. No. This wasn’t how it was meant to happen. I tried to fight back, but the grip around my neck tightened until I couldn’t breathe. I was forced to gasp and cough for air when he poured the contents down my throat. The liquid was cold on my tongue and my body, having been denied food and water for days, eagerly swallowed the contents of the vial as it cooled and settled into my stomach. I shook and pushed myself away from the Duke, falling back onto the ground and shuddering.

“You don’t know what you’ve done.” I managed to say, just before I felt the chill slowly shift into something different. I could feel the warmth in my gut as it began to increase, expand and spread. 

The Duke stepped back and watched me with open-mouthed delight as he saw me begin to writhe and groan with the returning of the constant burning in my loins. And then I felt the pull, the tug of something that belonged to me that felt like it was far, far away from me. The feeling that I must follow it, or I would forever live in that torment.

The Duke watched on, satisfied, not knowing that what he had done to me had most certainly doomed Altan as well.

Want to be updated on new chapters? DM me to be added to the tag list! I'm so sorry that I missed you guys last chapter!

@eltrolodecadadia

@sizzlinghideoutcoffee

@carjis

[icystorm76]

Lauren’s comments on Ep 4

My sister has now watched Ep 4, and again I wrote down what she had to say. She has never read the books and has no idea about basically everything. Anything in parentheses is my comment on her comment.

Her reaction to Ep 3: https://www.tumblr.com/icystorm76/753858454799761408/laurens-commentary-im-forcing-my-sister-to-watch

“The title of this is “I want you more than anything in the world”, which GREATLY concerns me”

Claudia’s performance

“Wow, she in the show”

“Ok this is kinda creepy”

“Yes, slay Claudia”

“Claudia must hate this. It’s like her biggest pet peeve, being treated like a child”

“His face!!!”

“Ok, that ghost thing is kind of cool”

“Ok, that is abuse again”

“So what happens if Claudia falls in love with another vampire who was turned as an adult”

“I want someone to edit that scene with “it’s a small world” but it’s just Claudia on stage”

Coven meeting after performance

“Anne rice you kinky little bastard”

“It’s funny because she doesn’t like windows when they close but I don’t like Louis boyfriends when they abuse”

“He’s kinda daddy with those muscles”

“Abuser. Victim”

“Understand his commitment issues. Please.”

Louis and Armand

“Wow, eww, keep that gay stuff to yourself. Yes. Thank you. One time I’m with you Lestat.”

Dubai

“He has sad eyes. Daniel does. He looks like the restaurant guy from ratatouille”

*Extreme sarcasm* “Thank you Louis, that cleared it up”

“I feel like his face would be fun to sculpt”

“What? Fire at the theater?!”

“PTSD awareness too. That’s crazy”

Claudia and Santi’s convo in the wet room

“That moment when trying to be a cottage core bitch comes back to bite you”

“Awwww, they’re going to be friends!”(NONONONONO CLAUDIA AND SANTI ARE NOT GOING TO BE FRIENDS)

“Daddy vamp?!?!? I’m using that”

“Marketing campaign, she lays on the ground like she’s fucking dead”

“When are they going to notice she doesn’t age”

Dinner with the coven

“I love how they’re like “we need to get far away from Lestat, who has a French accent. Let’s go to France!””

“Awww, she’s smiling!”

“Du ponte du lac, say his full name”

“Theoretically, if him and Lestat got married he would be Louis Du Ponte Du lac De Lioncourt”

“You know what I need? Lestat drawn by the same person who did Miku binder Thomas Jefferson”

“Why don’t vampires have Orgys?”

“Don’t put all my sexual comments in here. People are going to think I’m oversexual, tell them in not oversexual!”

“That’s kinda gay”

Les+Lou and Claudia+Madeline

“This feels like a scene from a marvel movie, the way it’s shot”

“Is he a goat?! Hello?”

“Oh God, I knew he was going to say that. I knew he was going to say that. You vain bitch”

“Yeah, I think we learned from your last family that thats not always good.”

Art gallery

“Wow, that is doing to much.”

“Look at how bored Lestat looks”

“I love how it’s been years and years and none of the vampires are over their exs”

“I feel like I’m in therapy”

Louis and Claudia’s arguing and Lestats goodbye

“She keeps repeating things. It’s like in books when they do that Oh. Oh. OH. Thing. It was nice the first time but after that it felt like she was looking for things to say.”

“I like the detail that he’s not getting wet because he’s not really there”

“Yo butt gonna get wet. People gon think you peed yourself”

“Oh my god he’s imagining Lestat with emotions”

“Oh my god the snap just happened”

“Ok. Idea. Daniel fucked Santiago.” (She is really stuck on the idea of Daniel fucking a vampire, she just keeps choosing the Wrong one)

“Is the dark gift really just a vasectomy?”

“There it is!”

“I am… so confused. What just happened?”

[arwamachine]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks for the tag, @discordantwords!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 18 fics, plus 1 collection of poetry

2. What's your total A03 word count? 1,032,993 (I am a wordy motherfucker)

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently only BBC Sherlock

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Indefinite Lines

To Stand Before the Storm

Sleepwalkers

You Might Just as Well Be Blind

Matchmaking for Solitary Animals

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? When I'm actively posting a fic I do, but when I'm not posting I fall behind and then the inbox gets overwhelming so I avoid it and then it gets even more overwhelming so I avoid some more and now we've really reached critical mass and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

I do read them all, though, and they make me happy in my heart

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? We don't really do angsty endings over at ArwaMachine, LLC. Monsters in the Woods come close (iykyk - I see y'all's screams in that last chapter), and Oh How the Ghost of You Clings ends with Sherlock still on hiatus, but we're all about that happy ending over here (...for now)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? They've all got happy endings; the heavier the angst, the happier the ending! I feel like Indefinite Lines has a pretty happy ending, and if you consider the Bonus Lines then we're really in Fluffy McFluff territory.

So Grant Us All a Change of Heart also has a pretty happy ending (and a hefty dose of angst in all the preceding chapters)

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really, thank god. There's been a few frowny-face comments here and there, but overall folks have been lovely.

9. Do you write smut? HECK YES I DO! C'MON OVER TO ARWAMACHINE'S HOUSE O SMUT AND LOAD UP ON YOUR SPICE! WE SPECIALIZE IN TOPLOCK AND I WILL NOT BE APOLOGIZING FOR THAT

10. Do you write crossovers? Nah, not really my thing

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of...

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I have! Sleepwalkers has been translated into Spanish, and Storm has been translated into Russian! Always happy when fics get translated :)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, and let me tell you that I would be the worst co-writer in the history of co-writers. Nobody ever write anything with me ever--I am a fucking nightmare

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? Sherlock & John, although these days I'm also feeling myself some Gentlebeard

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have a goddamn post-fall fic where John develops panic disorder that I've been "working on" since 2021 and I AM GOING TO FINISH IT. I AM. I AM GOING TO FINISH THE MOTHERFUCKER IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I write the feelings well, and I'd like to think I can create scenes that bring out the intended feels in readers. I also think (/hope) I handle scene pacing decently--action scenes feel fast-paced but not rushed, slower scenes take their time but aren't slogs, etc.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Fight scenes. Dear christ do I hate writing fight scenes. I also really don't understand how commas work.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I have exactly two words in Russian in Lines and that is going to be the extent of it! Trying not to make an uncultured ass out of myself over here...

19. First fandom you wrote for? BBC Sherlock. I'm like that kid who married their high school sweetheart. That is to say, I make questionable decisions.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? Okay, so I love all of my fics and my answer tends to be whichever fic I've most recently written, but I've got to say that I love Lines so much. I put my whole soul into that fic for, like, over a year of my life, I researched the ever loving fuck out of it (who's reading up on amputation procedures? this gal!), I created a working cypher for the motherfucker, I permanently changed my relationship with Brahms' lullaby, and I got to meet Rosie, who remains my favorite character that I've ever written, ever. So Lines is my favorite child. Good child.

I tag anyone who wants to be tagged, for I am bad at tagging!

[anerdinallherglory]

Approaching Sun (34)

Author’s Note: Hi! Me again! Life is consistently a wild ride. I have OCD when it comes to raising my child and want to be as emotionally and physically available as I can as a mom, so my free time is limited. I completely underestimated the SAHM gig; it’s a 24 hour job. It also takes me twice as long to knock out a chapter because I can only find the time to write during nap time. As mentioned before, I am also trying to find time to work on my own novel, so between it and AS, the time is split. For those of you who have been reading AS for a long time, thank you for your patience and dedication to the story. You guys rock. This ship will reach shore eventually. For the landlubbers, this sea is a long one. Beware the journey. P.S. I usually write around 6,000 words per chapter and this one is over 10,000! Hope that helps the wait!

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33

Chapter 34: All Wars, Theirs.

After performing her rounds at the hospital the next morning, Sakura found herself staring into Mako’s cell again as the man who betrayed her looked at her dejectedly through the bars. His head was rested back against the wall and his chin jutted forward as he watched her. Ironically, Sakura came carrying a cup of tea in her palms, debating on whether to drink it herself or offer it to Mako.

When she placed the steaming cup through the bars and onto the ground, sliding it forward carefully to refrain from sloshing it over the porcelain rim, Mako raised an eyebrow and snorted a dubious laugh. “You can’t be serious, right?”

Sakura shrugged her shoulders innocently in response. “I thought we agreed to be close colleagues again.”

He sat up straight as he responded. “I don’t remember agreeing to that. Second, we were never really close to begin with; I only ever gave you the tea to lull you into a sense of trust.”

Sakura dismissed the confession because it was already common knowledge between them anyway, and said, “Yes, yes. I’m aware.”

“Then you have a distressing sense of humor,” Mako breathed, gesturing to the tea between them as he stood from his lonely, reclined spot against the sand-constructed wall at the back of his cell. Stooping, Mako reached for the tea and cradled it in his hands all the way down as he replaced its spot on the floor with his cross-legged figure.

Sakura mirrored Mako’s sitting position on the other side of the bars strategically, a tactic she often used when talking with someone she wanted to make feel at ease.

Seeing straight through the method, Mako sipped the tea before asking sarcastically, “Am I due for another therapy session now, Doc?”

Sakura shrugged off his sardonic comment and decided to move straight to the point. “Where is the heart of your organization? Are they based in Tanigakure?”

Mako shot his eyebrows up, swallowing the tea thickly at the abrupt question. He replied with another patronizing question. “Doesn’t your Kazekage know that? Why don’t you go and ask him?”

Sakura said bluntly, “He more than likely does. But I don’t. I want you to tell me yourself.”

Mako set his tea down, suspicion darkening his gaze. “There’s a reason you don’t want to ask him, then. Tell me and I’ll consider sharing what I know with you.”

Sakura was either extremely transparent today, or Mako had truly spent their time together as physicians studying her so thoroughly that he was able to see straight through to some of her thoughts, and it gave Sakura a slithering sensation of uncertainty in her gut.

Sakura frowned back at Mako for his intuitive guess, because in all honesty, Sakura had spent the morning tending to a countless number of patients, recalling familiar faces and learning new names, and had recoiled once again at Gaara’s plans of an inevitable confrontation within Sunagakure.

Even though none of this was Sakura’s fault, she couldn’t help but feel like her presence in the Sand Village endangered the citizens here. She had wanted to believe that Gaara had everything under control, especially since Kakashi, Shikamaru, and the rest of Team 7 were here and ready to go through with plans of Gaara’s design. Sakura, too, had convinced Sasuke last night to trust in Gaara’s approach, saying: “It’s the best option we have.” To which, Sasuke had interjected with the idea of going to Tanigakure to intercept the enemy himself, saying, “A covert operation with one person wouldn’t involve Konoha and Suna. It would be discreet.”

And at first, Sakura had rejected this idea because it didn’t make sense. Sasuke had his mission. To tangle himself up in this now when he had just had a breakthrough would delay his progress and distract him from a far superior threat to Konoha. And Gaara was more than capable of handling this, but then again, Sakura believed that so was she. And so, Sakura had contemplated Sasuke’s “covert operation with one person” idea throughout the night, wondering if it wasn’t an entirely preposterous plan if only it didn’t involve the Uchiha, but her instead.

As Mako blinked at her, expecting her response, Sakura covered for herself by saying, “I just want to confirm his suspicions.”

“Liar,” he accused, and Sakura frowned again at Mako’s own forthrightness. He had stopped hiding himself, Sakura realized. He was allowing her to see who he truly was, and Sakura felt somewhat sad knowing that the kind and exceedingly thoughtful version who had fooled her truly had just been a ruse. This Mako was abrasive and it kind of reminded Sakura of the sensation of having just a little too much salt, not enough to deter you from the food, but more than enough to make you blanch and investigate the dish more carefully.

“What can I possibly do in here?” he asked as he motioned around him at Gaara’s impenetrable sand, no longer humming in the air, but solid and unyielding in its shape of the tunnels and countless cells. Sand that Sakura was sometimes wary around simply because of its desire to do its master’s bidding. As if specks of it could whisp away to speak into the Kazekage’s ear whenever it wished. Sakura knew she was being too paranoid simply because she was harboring a secret plan of her own, one that Mako was beginning to discern. Could she tell him? Should she tell him?

As if he could sense her hesitation, he added, “I did promise to spend the rest of my life—however short it may be—atoning for my actions, you know. And it’s not like I can run off and tell your secrets now, can I?”

Not entirely ready to believe him or trust in him again, Sakura sighed and told him a half-truth instead. “I want to know that, because I want to talk to the organization myself.”

Mako’s eyebrows raised and he laughed sharply. “You want to talk to them?”

Sakura nodded.

All of his false humor instantly died away at her confirmation. “Listen, if Leaf shinobi just show up there, on their turf, things are not going to go your way. They certainly aren’t going to talk to you about anything.”

“And why is that?” Sakura questioned.  

“Because you are not their only target.”

Sakura’s stomach dropped at his sudden revelation. “What do you mean? I thought—”

“You are a target,” Mako interrupted, “A very big target—their most important one—but not their only one. You are at the top of the list. But after you, there will be others.”

“Like whom?” she probed.

“Anyone with power and influence whose ideals align with yours. People responsible with healing the next generation directly. Doctors, missionaries, leaders, teachers. The list goes on.”

“How many members,” Sakura asked, leaning toward the bars. “And is the Shade not the leader?”

“Not many, actually, but growing by the day.” Mako confessed easily and quickly, and Sakura could see that it was the truth. “Kasek, the man of shadow you refer to as a Shade, is one of the leaders. But there are others. He is not the mastermind.”

“Then who is?”

“I was new and never made it that far into the organization to find out. Hisa didn’t even know, and she has been involved much longer. They operate on a need-to-know basis, and she only ever consulted Kasek.”

“I see,” Sakura sighed, hoping for more intel than that.

“They are based in Tani as the Kazekage expects, but they are spread out. Or were. As they looked for you and the others. They might be dispersed and not all at the central location. From what I could gather from my conversations with the others, finding them all will be like searching for one cockroach at a time in a growing infestation.”

Sakura bit the inside of her cheek as she listened to this last bit, not entirely sure what she was expecting in the sense of her enemies’ locations. Sakura hadn’t been so naïve to hope that she could locate a singular location with all the bees inside their hive, but she had hoped for something more positive than the dismal reality that they might not be located at their base at all. This group and their teams and separation reminded Sakura, eerily of the Akatsuki. And if all of this was true (it was wise to only take Mako’s advice with a grain of salt), this brought Sakura full-circle to Gaara’s plan which was to lure them into Sunagakure. She hated to throw a wrench in any plans, but Sasuke was right. She needed to do something else, something less dangerous for everyone.

She had learned what she needed, so Sakura stood, dusting the sand off her pants.

Mako jumped up at her sudden indication of departure and blurted, “What’s your plan? I only told you this so you would think twice about whatever schemes you have. Even with your friends’ help, it’s dangerous. They will kill you.”

Sakura wanted to laugh at the preposterous idea of Naruto, Kakashi, and Sasuke being taken down by any enemy at this point. The three of them would die from old age, she was sure of it. She even had confidence in her own abilities despite how aware she was of the fact that this newly formed organization had no hesitancy to take her life. She vividly recalled how Mako had tried to convince Hisa to spare her life, arguing that she was too useful to kill. But she had bested them, hadn’t she? Even the shade who had corpsified her arms.

“Would I have really learned my lesson if I told you my plan?” Sakura asked him as she placed a hand on her hip and smiled pointedly at him. But Mako grabbed the bars between them, eyes narrowing once again.

“Listen, I know you have no reason to trust me, but take me with you.”

Sakura laughed out loud this time, unable to help herself as she covered her mouth with the soft side of her curved hand. Mako only glared. “Take you? Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because,” he hissed, “I could help you. You could use my affiliation with the group in whatever way you thought was best. They will more than likely kill me, but I could come up with something to get us in.”

Sakura’s smile disappeared. “The only help I need from you is for you to stay in this cell where you can’t stab me in the back again. I may have extended a hand of collaboration to you, but that doesn’t mean I’m dumb enough to trust you completely.”

Mako instantly responded with a frown, “You’re making a mistake.”

Sakura turned her back to him, ordering, “Start planning for your future here while I am away. The clinic needs you.”

As she began walking down the dark corridor of the underground tunnel toward the exit, she heard Mako yell after. “I? You’re going by yourself?!”

But she didn’t respond. The sand door that had fallen away before, floated back into form behind her, solidifying into a solid, soundproof barrier once more.

.

.

.

Despite his words last night, Sasuke was the one who was distracted. Distracted from his mission by so many different things, all of them pertaining to a certain pink-haired kunoichi whose cherry-blossom color bled into every crevice of his mind. Pale fingers tracing his back in the dark privacy of a shared room, Mako’s declaration of incoming enemies with the purpose of killing her, and Gaara’s various plans for their arrival were at the top of his thought list—right up there along with how much he wanted to throttle his blonde best friend for his incessant slurping.

Sasuke was trying to explain to Kakashi the development of his mission regarding the foodpill’s ability to lengthen his span of jump between Kaguya’s dimensions. At the mention of foodpills, however, Naruto had insisted he was going to resort to eating some of Sakura’s disgusting ‘mudballs’ himself very soon if they didn’t make a food stop and continue this discussion over a meal.

And so, this is where Sasuke currently found himself: sitting annoyingly squished in a small corner of a crowded food market stall located in the busiest section of the market square, closing his eyes tightly as Naruto shoved another bite of seasoned rice and meat stew loudly down his oversized gullet.

And now Kakashi had just brought up the very topic Sasuke had been brooding over since Gaara had announced to the group his plans on dealing with Sakura’s newfound enemies. The very topic that had Sasuke so distracted. Sasuke had been fantasizing ways to take out that lazy, spiky-haired strategist for even suggesting that Sakura be used as a lure in the first place. Shikamaru did not sit amongst them at the moment because he had “better things to do” in Suna at the moment, which thankfully kept him out of Sasuke’s sight.

“Let’s convene again with Sakura and the Kazekage this evening,” Kakashi suggested, somehow managing to eat without revealing the face behind the mask. “We need to consider the next steps carefully.”

“Gaara can handle it,” Naruto said, almost unintelligibly through a humongous bite of rice. “Whatever he says, we can trust him with it.”

“Or we could handle it,” Sasuke put out there, seeing an opportunity to change the situation and going for it instantly. “Quietly and effectively. Just us. No Sand Village.”

Naruto choked in his excitement at such a notion, agreeing with Sasuke immediately. “I like that idea better!”

“Hn,” Sasuke voiced in agreement with Naruto, whom technically had just agreed with him, but Sasuke didn’t care, because he wasn’t past emphasizing his own statement at this point.

Kakashi tapped his chopsticks thoughtfully against the table. “The situation is delicate because Tanigakure is a mostly neutral country between two shinobi villages. We can’t just go in there and start fighting a multitude of ninja who don’t represent the country as a whole. Even discreetly, the battle ensued would potentially cause too much damage. Gaara’s presence alone in Tanigakure for a few days caused some strain. Needing this fight to happen elsewhere is imperative.”

Naruto’s face had scrunched up the longer that Kakashi spoke, and the blonde knucklehead let out a thoughtful “hmmm” as he nodded his head like he had actually understood any of that. Sasuke wanted to roll his eyes and sigh.

“The Shade refuses to speak,” Kakashi continued his remarks. “We need intel, or we will be going into this blind. The Kazekage has that intel and is in the works of acquiring more information. Trusting Gaara is our best option.”

Sasuke wanted to say more, to argue, to persuade if only it weren’t so unlike him to do so. The Sasuke everyone was expecting was the uncaring one. The one who couldn’t be too bothered with any of this at all because it didn’t directly involve The Uchiha or his mission to investigate the Otsusuki. And part of Sasuke told himself to get a grip and to reign in the worry and trust the others. Sasuke knew he was being unreasonable, knew that he needed to focus on his own mission and goals. That’s what Sakura wanted, too. But Sasuke didn’t know how to wash his hands clean of this anymore, to eradicate the presence of Sakura in his mind, the feel of her skin, the embraces, smiles, and promises between them. Sasuke didn’t want to and therein lied his problem.

Kakashi was giving him that knowing sidelong look that had Sasuke glaring back at him.

“First things first, then,” The Sixth Hokage stated as he made to stand. “Let’s go find Sakura and then we can meet up with Gaara this evening.” And as Kakashi stood, the sensei suddenly realized that his former students no longer occupied the table but were making a break for the entrance, leaving Kakashi with a table full of Naruto’s dishes and an expectant storeowner smiling at him with the bill.

Sasuke heard their sensei sigh, murmur something about how he was supposed to be saving for retirement, but then handing over a wad of change to the giddy and grateful older woman.

.

.

.

When they located Sakura soon after in one of the medicine preparation rooms, she was bending over a mortar and pestle again, gloved hands moving deftly, and her hair pulled tightly behind her and Sasuke realized for the first time how long it had grown since they had left Konoha. The time had seemed to have passed them so quickly, and yet more than a couple months had transpired since he had returned home that day at dawn back in the Leaf. Her attire had changed overnight, and Sasuke instantly noticed that she no longer wore any of the clothes he had bought for her but had taken the liberty of finding something more fitting her previous style: red, short sleeved, and tantalizing short around the midriff. The very stomach he had ran his fingers across in the darkness of their shared room last night.

Sasuke pointedly looked away from her exposed skin as they advanced upon her position, and he decided to hang back against the entrance as Naruto and Kakashi greeted her enthusiastically. He settled into a comfortably uninterested position in typical Uchiha fashion against the wall and peeked over when Sakura elbowed Naruto’s arm when the blonde idiot shouted, “You’re making more puke pills?”

Sasuke felt a weight settle in his stomach as he made the connection that she was handling the ingredients required to make him more food pills for his mission. And from the trays set out before her, Sakura was making a lot of them. Even Kakashi glanced back Sasuke’s way as his former sensei realized Sakura’s purpose, as well.

Although somewhat touched by her effort, Sasuke feigned disinterest in the lot of them.

“Let’s have a taste!” Naruto exclaimed. “Surely, they aren’t as bad as they used to be!”

But before Naruto could touch one, Sakura pushed him away with her body. “Naruto! You need to stop that greedy habit of yours! They are made with Ashuwa, a plant that many people have severe allergic reactions to!”

Sasuke smirked silently to himself as Sakura chastised their gluttonous friend and Sasuke wanted to say something like, “Should have just let him eat it. That would teach him a lesson,” but Sasuke remained silent as Naruto shrieked at Sakura’s revelation.

The idiot jerked his entire body away from the food pills, eyes turning into round circles as he pointed at them, “Now you’re cooking can KILL people?!”

“Na-ru-tooo,” Sakura seethed in that drawn-out warning of his name she often used while considering to pommel their friend, and they all knew if she weren’t holding her gloved, Ashuwa-tainted hands up and away from everyone, Sakura would have hit him.

“They won’t kill you unless you are allergic,” Kakashi explained, motioning Naruto to take a few steps away. “How did you learn it was a common allergen?” he asked Sakura.

Her anger instantly forgotten, Sakura turned red from embarrassment and her eyes darted to the Uchiha. “After Mako told me about the plant, I tested it myself to assess the taste. I might have had a little reaction—”

Sasuke scoffed at the half-truth and spit out what she didn’t want to say. “It wasn’t little. Mako didn’t stop her from trying it, knowing how toxic it was. He was trying to kill her.” Feeling merciful, Sasuke left out the part about Sakura’s anaphylactic reaction, her face and mouth swelling up like a balloon that had left her bumbling through an explanation to a half-annoyed, half-concerned Sasuke.

Naruto instantly reddened after learning of Mako’s involvement, “THAT GUY!”

Kakashi didn’t give Naruto’s exclamation any attention, skipping over his statement immediately as he leaned curiously over the large array of food pills. “But Sasuke isn’t allergic, so these are the food pills you made for his mission? Are all of these for him, then?”

“Yes,” Sakura stated and she proceeded to relay the properties of the foodpills, their various side-effects and so on. Apparently, she had made modifications to these. They had less of a physical toll on the body and a greater number could be taken in a single dosage.  They all raised their brows and glanced at one another in silent admiration; Sasuke didn’t bother to hide the small smirk of pride spreading across his face at his female companion’s astounding ability to make advancement upon advancement on something she had only just created days ago. Where had she even found the time?

“It’s not foolproof yet,” Sakura disclaimed as she hoisted a large container of compacted food pills from the counter and took slow and careful steps to Sasuke.

They both froze when her fingers bumped against his during the transfer; they also both instantly looked away from one another as the small physical contact brought memories of the more intimate touches of last night. The first physical anything other than kissing that had transpired between them had progressed so quickly and now Sasuke was back-peddling, silently berating himself for the first time about his weak willpower. They had only ever exchanged a couple kisses, something that Sasuke thought would be manageable, safe, and just enough to take that edge off, satiate that desire that suddenly choked all his stoic sense out of him. And yet, things had heated so much last night that Sakura had felt compelled to mention it. Sasuke just hadn’t expected the cravings something like running his fingers along her bare back would evoke in him. Her touching him was wonderful, but when he had touched her in return, his hand starting with her shirt and finding her skin underneath… it was erotic. And typical for Sasuke, he had balked, realizing the trajectory of their course. Because the truth was, they needed clear heads. Just as he had told her. And Sasuke’s head had been anything but clear since Sakura had joined him on his mission.

“I still need you to test them,” Sakura stated quietly, and Sasuke’s attention snapped back to his pink-haired teammate, who was still avoiding his eyes shyly. “I can make adjustments from there.”

Sasuke didn’t know what to say or do other than nod silently as he withdrew a summoning scroll and performed the justsu that would seal the foodpills within it. “Naruto could go with you, now. Go train and test one out and come back before nightfall so I can modify the recipe if I need to.”

“Great idea!” Naruto exclaimed and he ran over to Sakura’s workstation and plucked a loose pill off the counter, gulping it greedily before saying, “They still taste like mudballs, Sakura.”

“You IDIOT!” Sakura gasped, storming over to him and checking his face. “You don’t even know if you’re allergic!!!”

“I can’t let Sasuke have an unfair advantage!” Naruto announced with that stupid face-breaking grin. “I’m fine! See? If Sasuke can handle the Ass-ingredient than so can I!”

All three of them rolled their eyes at Naruto’s sense of competitiveness against his lifelong rival—Sasuke would never admit that neither of them still couldn’t stand to be outdone by the other in any way—as he stomped out the door, yelling, “Come on, Sasuke! Time to kick your ass!”

Sakura sighed, turning once again to Sasuke. “If he has a reaction, teleport him back immediately.”

Sasuke nodded, then hesitated, glancing back between Sakura and Kakashi, whom had been leaning against the counter with an amused sort of expression. “What about the Kazekage—”

“Oh,” Sakura smiled innocently as Kakashi briefly explained their intentions of visiting with her and the Kazekage about the situation at hand. “He won’t be finished until later this evening. That’s when we are supposed to all meet up.”

Sasuke nodded, already being aware of this fact. When neither of his remaining members of Team 7 said anything more to detain him, Sasuke followed his blonde rival out the door, not being able to shake the suspicious feeling that he was purposefully being sent away.

.

.

.

Sakura admired Kakashi for his perceptiveness because as her sensei leaned out the window to watch his two chakra pill-dosed disciples navigate through an intricate web of sand-constructed and adobe houses, he asked, “What are you planning?”

Sakura’s eyes widened when he found hers and she suddenly knew that she had been caught. Sakura sighed. “How did you guess?”

Kakashi moved away from the window to lean against the counter beside her as she finished working, whipping out his favorite scandalous Icha Icha book. “Your behavior is off. At first, I thought it was because of the evolution of your relationship with Sasuke, but…”

Sakura’s eyes grew even wider as his words registered in her mind, and she blushed furiously as she defended, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kakashi raised his hands, saying, “I won’t mention anything again. It’s between the both of you.”

Sakura turned her back to him to hide her face, not believing him for a second. He would stick his nose where it didn’t belong for the rest of their lives.

Kakashi continued, “However, I’ve known the both of you for a long time and I just want to say that I am happy for you. It looks good on you both…being in love.”

Sakura stilled her panicked faux-work movements at Kakashi’s words and turned back to face him. Even with half his face concealed by the black mask, Sakura saw the upturn of his lips and the crease of a smile beneath his exposed right-eye. She had never wanted to hug someone so tightly in her life because his words, his approval, meant so much to her. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes threatening to water and Kakashi nodded.

But the feeling of happiness eroded when Kakashi finished the rest of what he was trying to say before getting side-tracked. “Seeing all these food pills you’ve made in advance suggests to me that you’re not planning on being here to make more of them. Am I wrong to assume this?”

And Sakura sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she dropped her shoulders in silent defeat. “No,” she admitted. “You’re not wrong. I wanted to talk to you. As a leaf shinobi talks to their Hokage.”

Kakashi raised his eyebrow but waited for her to continue.

And she confessed to him her feelings about Gaara’s plans, Sasuke’s valid suggestion for a single-person mission to infiltrate the organization, her own plans to deal with the situation, along with the details of Mako’s information, and her carefully constructed counterplans. She told Kakashi everything she planned to do and exactly how she would do it.

Kakashi listened with a grim face, simultaneously intrigued, and sighing at each step of Sakura’s points of reasoning. When she finally finished, Kakashi stared down at his feet for a moment before lifting his eyes to her. “As your Sensei, I want to say no. To put the responsibility on Gaara as he suggested. It’s too dangerous to do this alone.”

Sakura nodded. She was aware of this, had prepared herself for this.

“The boys won’t hear of it,” Kakashi pointed out, “they’ll insist on joining you.”

“I don’t plan on telling them,” Sakura confessed. “I’ll leave immediately. When they learn of it, I’ll need you to convince them to stay behind. And persuade Gaara, too. Strategically, it is the safest route for everyone.”

Kakashi sighed. “I don’t foresee this part of your plan going well. Even the Kazekage won’t be pleased that you’ve gone against the plan. He feels responsible.”

“Do what you must. Play the Hokage card if you have to. Isn’t that your favorite?” she smiled teasingly.

Kakashi looked affronted at her statement and Sakura laughed good-naturedly despite the stressful topic.

“Do I have your official permission, then?” she asked.

“As your Hokage, I say go. Bring them to the light or bring them down, whichever of the two options prevents them from threatening your life again. Are you sure that you’re ready?”

“I was ready the very moment they laid their hands on Isao. It’s my turn to protect the ones I love, now.”

.

.

.

Sasuke scowled deeply at Naruto who had just taken his third chakra pill before funneling Kurama’s chakra into his limbs and body once again. “Let’s go again!” he yelled across the sandfield at Sasuke, shaking sweat from his hair like Kiba’s white-furred mutt.  

Sasuke sighed, feeling thoroughly exhausted, not having entirely recovered from overexerting himself on chakra pills just days ago. As he watched Naruto take his third dose, Sasuke found himself wishing his blonde companion had been just slightly allergic to the Ashu—just enough where they had an excuse to go back—but of course, Naruto had no reaction; certainly would have saved him from having to walk into the desert and rile himself up with Naruto’s challenges.

There was a part of Sasuke that loved to challenge Naruto, to spar until his limbs were heavy, mottled with bruising, and he could lay on his back that night and feel released from his thoughts—just feel the soreness of his body and the satisfying memories of getting a few ones in on his bijuu friend. But today, Sasuke felt half-in the fight and often found himself tossing distracted glances back toward to the Sand Village.

“Enough Naruto. I think we’ve tested them enough. Let’s head back.”

Powering down, Naruto shouted, “You tired, Sasuke? You’re off your game today.”

And even though Sasuke told himself not to react to Naruto’s goading statement, he still found himself scoffing. “Unlike you loser, I haven’t just been sitting around doing nothing.”

Naruto pointed an annoyed finger in his direction. “Flirting with Sakura doesn’t count!”

Sasuke whipped his head in his friend’s direction and narrowed his deadly purple and red glare at the knucklehead, who was grinning and laughing at Sasuke’s reaction. “You should see your face!”

Sasuke scowled, half-tempted to shoot another fireball in the obnoxious jinchuriki’s direction, but he would need another chakra pill to do so, and Sasuke didn’t want to risk consuming three in a row, despite Sakura’s claim of reduced side-effects. He was completely spent. Anymore and Sasuke might really overdo it and he couldn’t risk being completely bedridden. Not with Sakura’s attackers out there somewhere still organizing a retaliation.

Sasuke struck with his words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I’m NOT tired. Don’t you see the sun setting? We need to head back to meet with the Kazekage.”

Naruto turned to appraise the sun for the first time, and the vibrant red of the sunset cast a crimson glow on their skin and clothes, projecting lengthy shadows of their stooped, heavily-breathing figures on the ruby sand beneath them.

“Alright fine. Just to save your Uchiha pride.” Naruto exclaimed, rolling his purpling jaw and stiff shoulders. “I’ll definitely be stealing some of those pills for future use.”

Sasuke scoffed again and joined his friend as they trudged back through the red-tinted sand at a slower pace, the both of them trying to disguise limping. Naruto even stumbled once in the deep sand and instead of catching himself, he purposefully sprawled out onto his back and Sasuke came to stand over him.

“Don’t make me drag you back,” he hissed threateningly. But Naruto just raised his hand and said, “Five-minute break.”

Sasuke didn’t even argue, grateful for the rest, but he was also simultaneously anxious to be back. Unlike Naruto, he didn’t allow himself to sit. He was afraid he might not be able to get back up.

“You know,” Naruto wheezed between heavy breaths. “I may be oblivious the majority of the time, but not when it comes to you two. Things are different between you, aren’t they?”

Sasuke released a sigh into his hand, not because he was annoyed—although he was very much tempted to disguise it as annoyance—but because the weight of no one knowing and keeping it a secret from Naruto was no longer a burden; he had already guessed it. And so, Sasuke nodded with a confirmatory “hn.”

And then Naruto was grinning, larger than Sasuke had ever seen the knucklehead grin. There was even a tear that slid down the right side of his friend’s sand-dusted cheek as he gazed up into the darkening sky. Naruto covered his eyes to disguise the tears with the crook of his arm as he grinned and whispered, “Finally.”  

Sasuke’s first reaction was to insult him for the crying, but he was honestly genuinely affected by this ninja’s emotion, and Sasuke for once in his life wanted to confide in someone who knew Sasuke’s entire history, his past, his everything.

“I’m afraid.” Sasuke confessed. “How do you love someone without spending every waking second worrying about them?”

Naruto sat up at that, leaning on one elbow as his body rotated in Sasuke’s direction. “You’re still concerned that something will happen to her?”

Sasuke just nodded again, giving voice to one of his inner-most thoughts. “Yes. Because of me. Because of who I am.”

“Haven’t you already realized that Sakura is going to be a target because of who she is? Look at the current situation. She’s a medic ninja out there changing the world and one of the most capable shinobi we know. If you’re going to be with anyone, Sasuke, Sakura is the only one who can handle all that come with it.”

Sasuke found himself nodding because he had realized this recently. Everything Naruto just said, Sasuke had thought himself. He could now fully appreciate the fact that Sakura’s life would be threatened regardless of her association with him. But he needed to hear someone say it, the confirmation he was looking for from the universe that set his heart at ease.

“If anything,” Naruto began, standing and dusting the sand from his clothes. “Her association with all of us keeps her protected.”

Sasuke raised a brow in confusion, but Naruto continued. “She may be hunted for her connection to us: the Kazekage’s student, the jinchuriki’s friend, and the last surviving Uchiha’s…” he trailed off, and Sasuke narrowed his eyes dangerously, daring him to say the word. But Naruto chose to finish that sentence with,”partner” and Sasuke found that he and Sakura had even referred to one other as such, so the word felt appropriate.

“But,” Naruto continued, “her particular connections to us protect her, too. Who’s going to risk the wrath of us in order to get to her?”

“This damn anti-peace organization,” Sasuke answered, immediately finding a hole in Naruto’s explanation. He wanted to mention Kido, that madman who had tried to use Sakura to get his sharingan, but Sasuke decided against that one.

Naruto waved away that answer, stating, “Tanigakure was neutral in the war. If this organization truly originates there, they didn’t witness our abilities. There will always be instances that Sakura is targeted, but we will remind them every time who she is and who she belongs to.”

“If she doesn’t remind them herself, first.” Sasuke added.

“Exactly,” Naruto agreed, clapping Sasuke on the shoulder.

.

.

.

Kakashi and Shikamaru were the only two waiting in the Kazekage’s office when Gaara and his two accompanying siblings entered. Kakashi and Shikamaru glanced between one another tensely, aware of the news they would soon share with the Kazekage.

Immediately after Sakura’s conversation and departure, Kakashi had found the lazy ninja strolling the streets carefree with Temari. Wrestling him away with the “official business” excuse, Shikamaru had sighed, “This early? I thought I had until this evening. What a drag.” Once Kakashi had confidentially reported Sakura’s plans for an independent mission, Shikamaru had initially argued with him about her decision, stating it was unnecessary for her to take the risk. That was, until Kakashi had told him everything. The plan. The details. Everything Sakura had confessed to Kakashi as a ninja would to their Kazekage.  

“I don’t like it,” Shikamaru sighed with his head in his hand, “but it might just work. We need to meet with her and discuss strategy—”

“She’s already left,” Kakashi interrupted and Shikamaru dropped his hands from his face in shock.

“Already?!”

“Leaving immediately was imperative,” Kakashi explained and by the look on Shikamaru’s face, he had already made the connection that it had to do with the other two members of Team 7. Kakashi continued with: “We can send her your advice by hawk.”

Shikamaru groaned, “Telling Naruto and Sasuke is going to be such a drag.”

That was definitely going to be a mountain that Kakashi was not looking forward to. But before facing that mountain, he had a bridge to cross, and that bridge was none other than telling the Kazekage he had made a decision as the Hokage despite the Kazekage’s careful planning.

As the Kazekage sat cordially behind his desk, ready to scheme and discuss tactics, Kakashi sat across from him, grateful that Gaara was usually a level-headed and understanding leader and was typically easy to work with. But just before Kakashi could blurt out Sakura’s plan, a blue-haired sand shinobi entered the room, pushing a rather drab-looking ninja medic whom Kakashi instantly recognized as the man responsible for betraying Sakura to a group of vigilantes. Kakashi raised a curious eyebrow at Mako’s sudden presence, and Kakashi assumed it had something to do with information garnished from his interrogation.

“The prisoner who keeps asking for you, Lord Kazekage,” the ninja stated respectfully as he pushed Mako to his knees on the floor before Gaara who seemed slightly annoyed with his unexpected appearance.

“Yes, thank you.” The Kazekage gestured for the shinobi to leave.

Mako strained his arms against a pair of sand shackles and Kakashi noticed for the first time that the former Sunagakure medic was trying to speak past a gag of sand as it rained from his mouth. Not only was he struggling to speak, but Mako was glancing around the room into each of their faces and Kakashi witnessed the medic’s eyes widen in alarm, a panicked look Kakashi had become very familiar with from his time as a shinobi: fear.

“Excuse the interruption,” Gaara pardoned and Shikamaru and Kakashi were both a little too eager in shaking their hands in dismissal, both of them more than happy for a delay in delivering their news.

“Make it quick,” Gaara said emotionlessly, snapping his fingers to disintegrate the manacles and gag from his mouth. “What is it you want?”

Mako choked on some of the remnants of grit on his tongue and he wiped furiously from his mouth. Finally, Mako began to breath evenly, blurting, “She—” he choked again. “You have to stop her.”

“Stop who?” The Kazekage interrogated, a furrowed brow of confusion passing across Gaara’s usual emotionless expressions.

Kakashi’s stomach dropped when Mako cried out, “Sakura! She left the prison this morning, asking for information. I got the impression that she was going to go looking for the enemy on her own! You can’t let her—”

Gaara silenced the noisy vomit of words spilling out of Mako’s mouth with a raised hand. He turned to Kakashi and raised an eyebrow. “Where is Sakura?” the sand-wielder questioned. “Why exactly is she not here right now?”

Kakashi rubbed his neck half-humoredly. “Well, about that,” he began and he heard Shikamaru sigh at his right. And so Kakashi found himself explaining the current situation, at which Gaara’s eye grew wide in surprise. Just as Sakura had explained to him, and Kakashi had relayed to Shikamaru, the Hokage now recounted a censored version of Sakura’s goals (he wasn’t naïve enough to reveal anything essential in Mako’s presence).

Even Temari and Kankuro exchanged worried glances between one another as Kakashi reported, and Gaara placed his fisted hand on his mouth to think.

“I had thought we were on the same page, her and I.” Gaara voiced. “If she goes into Tanigakure, discretion is a must. Are you sure she can handle this without our help?”

Kakashi nodded. “If anyone can do this, she can.” Kakashi was relieved to see him nod curtly before whispering an instruction silently to Kankuro, who dashed quickly from the room, sending a small hateful glare in Mako’s direction as he exited.

Mako took turns exasperatedly gaping between all of them. “You are all too confident.” Mako seethed. “I should have just kept my mouth shut. She hasn’t been on the battlefield since the war. She’s too inexperienced for the numbers, especially going alone.”

“Why are you working so hard to prevent her from going? Are you disappointed that her plan might not work?” Shikamaru drawled, the annoyed tone very much like his character. “She handled your team well enough.”

Mako laughed derisively. “Of course, her plan won’t work! She said she just wants to talk to them! You’re sending their target, a martyr in the name of mental health, into a nest designed for her death!”

“Then tell us what you know.” Gaara’s rasping voice sounded and Kakashi witnessed Mako tense at the legendary jinchuriki’s question. “You’ve chosen a second life here, correct? In exchange for your information, I’ll offer you protection as long as you reside here.”

Mako’s eyes widened at the offer and then he sighed; Kakashi saw the internal struggle still within his eyes as if the young man truly was trying to recall everything he could remember. “I’ll tell you what I told her,” the prisoner exhaled as he rubbed his sore blistered wrists. “I don’t know much. I didn’t get that far in, but I will tell you everything I do know.”

“Better make that quick,” Kakashi announced, walking to one of the windows across the room. The descending sunlight illuminated the sand ground in orange, striped by the shadows of all the buildings within the village, and two smaller shadows shuffled their way slowly towards the Kazekage’s tower.

.

.

.

“You’re late,” Shikamaru drawled when Sasuke practically hauled Naruto’s limp body through the door of the Kazekage’s office. Stupid idiot had walked the entire way back, but the stairs, the stairs, had been too much for him. Sasuke practically dropped him on his back to the floor.

“Coming from you, Shikamaru?” Naruto laughed, pointing an accusing finger and upside-down jeer at the lazy Hokage’s assistant. “You and Kakashi Sensei are always late to everything.”

“It’s Lord Hokage, Naruto…” Kakashi corrected, covering his eyes with his hand, and Sasuke thought he looked like a parent who was embarrassed of his two humiliating children.

“You can blame Naruto,” Sasuke stated bluntly as he side-stepped Naruto, already feigning disinterest in the present company. That was until his narrowed eyes met an unlikely visitor that Sasuke would have rather never seen again. Mako sat with his hands bound and mouth gagged with what appeared to be whirring sand. His silent figure observed Sasuke, blatantly staring at him in forced silence, and Sasuke could have kicked in his teeth. Sasuke didn’t question Mako’s presence too much; Gaara probably had him brought from the cells to testify for insider information.

Moving along with a threatening glare in Mako’s direction, the Uchiha positioned himself casually against the wall the farthest away from everyone and instantly became aware that Sakura had not made it to the Kazekage’s office, yet. Sasuke mentally scolded his pink-haired teammate for her overachieving work ethic, and that kernel of uneasiness from earlier that came from Sakura’s absence was back again. Maybe he should go and retrieve her.

“Were the chakra pills effective?” Kakashi suddenly inquired, and Naruto enthusiastically answered as he sat upright once more, crossing his legs and arms simultaneously; the very same squat he often took as a genin.

“Yes! I took four in a row!” he praised. “Wish she could improve that terrible taste though,” he mumbled lowly to himself, taking a dramatic swipe at his tongue with the pad of his right thumb and then inspecting it for a residue. Sasuke wanted to roll his eyes.

As Naruto rambled on about the effects that he personally experienced from the new food pills, explaining that the results and consequences were as expected, but less serious, and how it took much longer to get there, Shikamaru laughed to himself and shook his head in disbelief. This laugh pricked Sasuke’s ears and his attention switched to Kakashi, and Sasuke witnessed the Hokage and Kazekage exchange a quiet look, the type of glance that was charged with a silent conversation. Sasuke then turned to find Mako’s heavy gaze on him, staring directly into his eyes as if he no longer feared them. The Uchiha narrowed his eyes at the man, trying his best to not let the behavior provoke him in this uncomfortable atmosphere. God, Sasuke was tired of this meeting already.

“Where is Sakura, by the way?” Naruto glanced around, the first to address her absence since they had arrived. It may have been the only time today Sasuke wasn’t annoyed at the blonde idiot.

Naruto’s question was interrupted and ignored when the puppet-wielding ninja appeared through the entrance, signaled Gaara with a nod, and the Kazekage announced, “All right then, let’s get started.”

Sasuke had rarely felt so skeptical in his life as he did now when the sand-wielder engulfed the room with sand, creating a soundproof barrier that Sasuke had witnessed him do several times. It hardened within seconds, encasing them all in one un-impenetrable room. Sasuke glanced at Naruto as his question was skipped over, and Sasuke noticed that the knucklehead, too, had a confused frown on his face. And Sasuke suddenly had a gut-wrenching feeling, because it was obvious that if Gaara was sealing the room already, it was because everyone who was expected to be there, already was. Which meant that Sakura wasn’t coming.

And Sasuke’s gaze suddenly locked on the sand-muffled Mako, whose eyes still bore into the Uchiha’s as if he had been trying to communicate with him all along—eyes that had been so cautious to meet the Sharingan and Rinnegan before, but now volunteered themselves for Sasuke’s inspection. And as it finally clicked in Sasuke’s brain, he called on his reduced supply of chakra and his eyes instantly morphed into the deadly purple and red.

Mako slumped forward as Sasuke plowed into the ninja’s memories, frantically searching for Sakura’s face, reversing time so quickly that he struck through Mako’s memories like electricity, faster than the streaks of lightning of his chidori. Finally, his charged consciousness of his lightning style chakra illuminated the memories containing her. Finally, Sasuke witnessed her sitting before Mako’s cell, eye-to-eye on the other side of the bars crafted from sand. Sasuke paused and played out her questions to Mako:

Where is the heart of your organization?

Are they based in Tanigakure?

How many members?

When Sasuke stumbled through the rest of their conversation, hearing Mako ask Sakura to take him with her to help her with her plan, and then experiencing Mako’s panic at realizing that Sakura planned to go alone, Sasuke felt the same fear again. That same fear he had felt many times in the past, and now found himself feeling again. Everything suddenly made dreadful sense: Gaara surrounding the room with sand—an action that Sasuke had misunderstood to be sound-proofing, the exchanged glances, and even Sakura asking he and Naruto to test the food pills so they would both be too physically drained to pursue her. Damn it. Sasuke felt like a fool; he felt betrayed, afraid, and so cross with everyone for their part in Salura’s self-sacrificing mission.

Too late, a veil of sand came before Mako’s eyes, the sand creating an impassable window to stop Sasuke’s genjutsu. But Sasuke had already learned what he needed to know and he withdrew from Mako’s head like a snake that had bitten him. Mako gasped from the shock of it and the entire room turned to watch the medic slump forward onto the ground, not having witnessed the silent exchange, but realizing something had just happened.

Gaara’s efforts to stop the genjutstu said a lot to Sasuke about how the Kazekage wanted to handle this confrontation: slowly, easily, and as emotionless as possible. But as Sasuke met the Kazekage’s eyes and Sasuke didn’t retract his emotional prowess, everyone in the room suddenly realized that Sasuke had discovered their closely guarded secret, and the Uchiha didn’t plan on calmly playing along with their plans.

“Naruto,” Sasuke drawled, his voice as low and heavy as the rumble that resounded when the ground shook on a war-torn battlefield. His next words had sharpened to accusatory ice. “Sakura’s not coming. She left Sunagakure on her own.”

Naruto shot up from the ground as if he hadn’t just crawled his way up the steps moments ago. “What?” he questioned the others, his gaze coming to rest on Kakashi who was putting a hand up already in an attempt to calm the Uzumaki.

“Why don’t you both sit down, so I can explain the situation to you—” their Sensei began, but his words only registered in Naruto’s head as a confirmation of Sasuke’s sudden declaration.

“WHAT?!” Naruto screeched, pointing a finger at all of them. “You let her go by herself? To do what? Fight? ALONE!?”

Sasuke’s immediate desire was to jump through space and time, directly through the portal of his choosing, bypassing everything altogether: the explanations, the defensive behavior, the justification of Sakura’s choices. But he was drained, just as Sakura had planned, damn her, and that only left Sasuke able to move to the door, instead. When he found the sand thickening around it, he turned and flashed his red and purple glare at Gaara.

“Even your sand will burn in the fires of Amaterasu,” Sasuke threatened dangerously. “You can’t hold me here.”

In the next moment, Kakashi had his hand on Sasuke’s shoulder and the Uchiha turned his glare back on him. “This is her plan, Sasuke. A covert operation with one person is discreet. She can handle this. Hear us out.”

Sasuke sucked in a sharp breath at the words that just came out of Kakashi’s mouth, the very words Sasuke had used to try and persuade Sakura to let him handle the situation himself. Sakura had listened, told Sasuke it was irrational, but had really gone and decided to take his idea and do it herself. His hand found his painful eyes. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. And they had agreed. Kakashi had agreed. Sasuke was so furious at himself for giving her the idea, but not as enraged at the Hokage for sending her.

“You think she can kill them?” he suddenly hissed in Kakashi’s face. “I watched her spare the life of that bastard who betrayed her,” Sasuke spat in Mako’s unconscious direction. “I’ve watched her spare the life of the monster who almost took the use of her arm away. There are countless others.”

“She killed one of them,” Shikamaru defended, “because it became necessary.” And Sasuke hated the strategist ninja once again, for his entitlement to a say. He didn’t know her. None of them knew Sakura the way that her own teammates did, including Sasuke, himself.

“She only killed the one who hurt that kid,” Sasuke retorted, cursing his own damn depleted state of chakra that was forcing him to sit and reason with these idiots. “None of the ones who touched her suffered any sort of consequence.”

“How many times?” Kakashi asked lowly, but loud enough for them all to hear. “How many times must she prove herself to you, Sasuke?”

Sasuke gritted his teeth in frustration, his blood pulsing in his head from the chakra-depletion induced headache forming there. The truth was, that this wasn’t an issue to him anymore. He believed in her abilities. He had witnessed them, himself. And as he had explained to Sakura as he had wrapped his arms around her in the moonlight of last night, his faith in her didn’t change the fact that Sasuke would worry. That Sasuke would go after her. Every. Single. Time. Why? Because he loved Sakura, and a man in love with someone didn’t need an excuse to make sure she never faced anything alone, not as Sasuke had for years. Sakura’s enemies were his enemies. Her battles, his battles. All wars, theirs.

“Tell us where she’s gone, Kakashi!” Naruto interrupted, derailing both Sasuke’s thoughts and their sensei’s attempt to convince him completely. “Sakura is our teammate. I don’t care what her plan is! We fight as a team!”

Sasuke saw it in their faces, the wavering. Naruto always had that effect on people when he spoke, altering their thinking and changing their minds, easily.

Kakashi remained on course, however. “You can’t follow her, Naruto. Everyone in the shinobi world knows who you are. They would recognize you instantly. Remember what I said earlier? Leaf shinobi can’t enter into Tanigakure without consequence. It’s neutral. You’ll be starting something—”

“And the world doesn’t know Sakura?!” Naruto shouted in disbelief. “She’s just as recognizable as any of us! Is just as important to the Leaf!”

“Sakura has many different strengths she can draw from,” Kakashi continued. “She doesn’t have to rely on a ninjutsu that could give her away. Not like your Rasengan, beast modes, sage art, and more. She has another plan.”

Naruto began to protest again, but Sasuke interjected. “Fine, Naruto can stay here.”

“WHAT?!” his friend screeched, rounding on him instantly, but Sasuke ignored him.

“The idea was mine originally,” Sasuke explained to Kakashi. “Sakura just stole it. I will go and I will be as discreet as I have for the last couple of years on Konoha’s behalf.”

Kakashi sighed. “Sasuke, you’re involvement is not a good idea. You have your own mission.”

And as Kakashi began to deny him once more, Sasuke felt a sense of dread and panic as more time was slipping away from him. Each minute that passed, took Sakura further away from them and toward those who wanted to kill her.

Desperation wasn’t like Sasuke and he had never resorted to begging before, always being able to rely on his strength and jutsu to carry him through life, taking what he wanted, doing as he pleased, and needing permission from few. But he was growing more and more irate and more and more frantic, and so he risked being vulnerable in front of all these ninja who had often judged him.

“If I have to watch someone who I love die, sacrificing themselves for the sake of the Leaf Village, again, the person who I am now won’t survive it. What’s left of the shinobi world will either fall to the Otsusuki race in my absence, or it will fall to the person I will become.”

He watched the fear flash across each of their faces as Sasuke’s words registered throughout the room. Sasuke had been too young to help his brother bear the weight of such terrible orders from his village, but Sasuke wouldn’t sit by and do nothing when Sakura was given such a mission.

“Is that a threat, Uchiha?” Gaara grumbled and Sasuke felt the very ground, the entire sand-constructed village, shift in response to the Kazekage’s wrath. Sasuke felt no fear. He didn’t fear such things anymore.

“Sasuke,” Naruto whispered as his friend placed a supportive palm on his shoulder, but Sasuke shrugged it off and stepped up to Kakashi, so close that Sasuke could see the red and purple of his own gaze in Kakashi’s irises.

“That will be its fate if you keep me here and she dies, Kakashi. Don’t make the wrong choice.”

He saw it in Kakashi’s face. The realization that Sasuke was more dangerous to Konoha than any repercussions from Tanigakure, or any unnamed organization. Sasuke was also essential because he was the only one who could use the Rinnegan to get an edge on the Otsusuki race. He watched the risks shift in the Hokage’s mind as he weighed this new danger to the Leaf. And so Kakashi didn’t stop him. The sand rained down around him. They let him go.

.

.

.

Sasuke fisted the pink hair that had been cut and placed upon a note on the foot of his bed. He had almost missed it in the darkness, but the moon as always, caught Sakura’s hair in a way that nothing else could. The sight of her slashed hair, a pre-battle ritual of Sakura’s, instantly caught his eye and it panicked the Uchiha even more; he wished he would have returned to their shared room earlier in the day, because Sasuke would have realized what exactly Sakura had intended to do, and he could just have avoided the Kage meeting all together and gone straight after her.

He had returned now to make sure Sakura wasn’t there waiting for him. Sasuke knew better, but he had still hoped. All their conversations about partnership, communication and goodbyes, and all their small promises to one another these past couple of months had given him that hope. But it was all nothing, now. Empty words because none of it prevented her from leaving him. Sasuke Uchiha had been left behind. And for the first time, he realized just how lonely and horrendously painful it was to be left behind.

In the darkness, the hair fell from his hands onto the bed like Sasuke’s slashed headband had once descended from his forehead. He snatched the note from the bed and separated the two pages with the pad of his thumb. Sasuke activated his Sharingan in the dark and forced himself to read it slowly and carefully, instead of skipping over lines in his urgency.

Sasuke, it read.

Sasuke,

I am sorry. If you have found this letter, know that I write it because we promised one another a goodbye. This is my goodbye, for now. I thought a lot about your suggestion on how to handle this situation, and I decided to do this on my own, since I was going to be involved regardless. I have thought it through, put extensive research into how I will achieve my goal, and decided a solo mission was the best option after all. Forgive me for being a distraction to you and I hope that the time apart will give us ‘clear heads’ as you suggested last night. Focus on your mission and I will focus on mine. Keep Naruto from following. He can be impulsive, and I need to do this alone. If you don’t find this until later, and I do not return, know that I love you. You have always been worthy of that love, even the darkest version of you. Save the shinobi world and remember who you are.

She did not sign it. As soon as his eyes scanned the last line of pen scrawl, Sasuke was half-tempted to crumble it in his hand. But his eyes found the most important words on the page: I love you…you have always been worthy of that love…remember who you are. And Sasuke realized he needed this letter as much as he needed chakra or oxygen. Because if she died, Sasuke would have to stare at it every day for the rest of his lonely existence and let it be the tether that kept him from falling apart.

[the-whumpening]

The Pet Tiger, #4 [nsfwhump AU]

Prev | Masterpost | Next

CW: Dehumanization, treated as a pet, threats of/references to violence and/or noncon, forced nudity, humiliation, pet whump, pet training, choking, restraints, caged, emotional manipulation, Ozmund is still an asshole

————————————————————————————

4: Bed

Ozmund trains Ash late into the night, drilling every command he can think of. Although none of the tasks are too difficult for Ash to accomplish, Ozmund often doesn’t bother explaining his one-word commands, leaving Ash scrambling to understand before the collar presses the life out of his throat. By the time Ozmund has bored himself with barking orders, Ash is lightheaded, and his vision is dark around the edges. His muscles wobble, unsteady and fatigued, as he crawls clumsily to Ozmund’s feet.

“Are you tired, pet?” Ozmund asks, and Ash is almost convinced it’s sincere. He nods, his head ducked in shame. Ozmund sighs, and the collar once again squeezes him. “I asked a question. You should know the proper answer. Try again.”

“Y-yes,” he chokes. “Yes, sir.” And suddenly, he can breathe again. Ozmund lifts him to his feet by the collar’s ring and holds him steady around his waist.

“Close enough,” Ozmund relents. A mercy, at this point. “Next time, it’s ‘Master,’ not ‘sir.’ Go on; once more.”

“Yes . . . Master.” If Ash had enough blood in his face, he’d blush from the utter humiliation. But now, he can only drowsily focus on maintaining his balance. His legs burn and tingle from the rush of sensation after so long spent on his knees, and his muscles shiver from strain. The plug still firmly inside him chafes and bruises his backside; every shift of his weight elicits a wince or a whimper.

“Alright then. Come along, darling. Let’s go to bed.”

A brand-new spike of fear jolts in Ash’s stomach; ‘going to bed’ could mean something much different than he hopes. But Ozmund doesn’t drag him to the spacious bed in these quarters like he expects. Rather, he latches a leash onto Ash’s collar and leads him out the door—allowing him to walk upright, even!—and through another series of halls. Servants turn their heads and leer as the two pass by, and Ash is suddenly keenly aware of his nudity once again. Ozmund, unbothered, continues deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of a mansion.

Ash’s feet ache, and he desperately wishes he could ask where they were going, how much farther he would have to walk. But when he’s stumbling and shuffling, barely able to hold himself up, they finally arrive at a set of enormous double doors. Much like everything else in Ozmund’s home, the huge wooden doors are carved with intricate designs and framed with elaborate molding. Ozmund waves his hand, and the designs light up in a faint green glow. The doors swing open on their own.

These must be Ozmund’s personal quarters, Ash now realizes. He had thought the previous room was opulent and lush, but it’s practically squalor compared to the suite he’s led into now. He doesn’t have much time to gawk, though, as his panic revs up anew. He’s in Ozmund’s bedroom. With Ozmund’s bed. The heavy doors shutter closed behind him, a shimmer of magic securely locking them tight.

“Welcome home,” Ozmund purrs with a sharp grin. “You’ll be sleeping here for the time being. Can’t risk the servants playing with my toy before I do, of course.” He loops the leash over his hand, pulling Ash closer and undoing the latch. “Sit.”

Ash kneels, his jaw trembling.

Ozmund points to a large box-like structure beside the oversized, plush bed. It looks like . . . a cage? The door, only about shoulder-width, is left open. “This is your bed, pet.” He crouches down to Ash’s level, petting his hair almost lovingly. “I am not a cruel Master; I promise you this one refuge. In your cage, no one will touch you, beat you, or require your service. As long as I leave you there, you will stay and you will be safe. But when I open the door again, you will kneel at my feet and follow my orders once more. Is that clear, darling?”

He strokes Ash’s cheek with his thumb, and Ash closes his eyes to collect himself.

“Yes, Master,” Ash whispers, his throat choked with tears.

“You really should thank me, pet,” Ozmund coos. “How else will I know how grateful you are for my kindness?”

Ash swallows hard, fighting back bile. “Th-thank you, Master.” He can sense the tension in Ozmund’s hands; should he keep going? “Thank you for my cage, Master.”

Ozmund kisses his forehead. “You’re welcome, darling boy. Now, crawl into bed before I change my mind about letting you rest.” He chuckles, sharply popping Ash’s backside as he limply crawls to the cage. “In you go, pet.”

The cage is tight, barely enough room for Ash to lay down comfortably, but it’s at least furnished with soft bedding. The bottom is lightly padded, and his sore body sinks eagerly into the warmth. Ozmund closes the door and locks it with a hefty, enchanted padlock.

“Good night, darling. Rest well; tomorrow is a busy day.”

[gamerbearmira]

Extension of rockband au-

The kids (not just the grandkids but them too) LOVE Julieta's bakery. She's just as famous as her sister but for a different reason. She's known as the "Baking Queen" on social media.

When younger kids between the ages of 4-7+ stop by her bakery and actually see her as a queen or princess. She doesn't mind either label. It fills Julieta's heart to see so many little babies view her in such a way. Especially when it's their first time seeing her.

Ahem-

It was the early morning and Julieta was just setting up shop. Her husband and daughters were helping put some freshly baked desserts behind the glass casing.

The place already smelled lovely as the sweet aroma filled the air. It was more than likely one or all three of the girls took something from the trays for themselves.

Not that Julie minded, there was enough for everyone, she made sure of it.

After everything was set up the castle like bakery was finally open! the time struck 9:30 and Julieta was in her queen attire. The outfit always brought a smile to her face.

The outfit brought back memories of her younger self dreaming of being a princess and in a way, she actually made the dream come true.

Her daughters and husband had their own work to do today so she gave them all hugs, kisses, and farewells. As they left through the door Julieta switched the "closed" sign to "open".

Pretty much everyone who knew of her existence knows her shop opens at 9:30 so it would be no surprise if people started rushing in. The first two people were a Japanese man and his daughter. She looked no older than 4 or five.

As always, Julieta held her signature and genuine smile. "Hola and Good morning! What can I get for you today?"

"What do you recommend for a birthday girl?" The older man smiled at her and looked down at his daughter who was dressed in princess attire.

Julieta's eyes widened and so did her smile. This woman LOVED birthdays. "¡¿Cumpleañera?! Oh my goodness...well-"

The royale woman walked around the glass casing and kneeled down next the girl. What she had in mind was something she knew would make a birthday girl happy-

"What's your name mija?"

The little girl stared up at the woman in shock. Was she real? was she really really real?! there's no way!

"M- Miyuki!" She stuttered. Before she could get another word in Miyuki asked the million dollar question.

"Are you a princess?!"

Julieta's heart melted and she smiled softly, "Yes, yes I am. Princesa Julieta of....uh...Bakery kingdom!" Julie became aware of that this girl must've been new to the neighborhood because every kid new her.

Miyuki's pupils dilated and she smiled as wide as humanly possible for a five-year-old. "Really?!"

"Yes I am. And as a gift from one princess to another, you get to have whatever you want in my bakery kingdom. As for the father of the princess, anything she chooses is free!"

Miyuki squealed a big "yay" and her father did the same but eternally. 

After the little girl got all the stuff, she wanted Julieta kneeled down next to her again.

"Would you like a picture with the princess, nina?"

Miyuki beamed once again and nodded vigorously. Her father smiled and took out his phone when both "princesses" posed for a photo. After the picture was taken, Julieta asked if he could take another one but with a small handheld camera.

"I love putting up photos of my young customers up on the wall over there"

she pointed over to a noticeboard that had a variety of pictures with her kneeling next to a happy kid. These were always aftermath photos of kids who thought she was a princess and/or queen.

The man obliged and helped take the photo. Once all that was done, she hugged Miyuki and bid her & her father off.

And like all the photos before, she pinned the new one to the one little space on the noticeboard. A soft smile on her face as she looked at the small photos. This is how far she has come with her life, and she couldn't be prouder of herself.

GOOD ON JULIETA REAL❗❗ At least she's got a successful business. Gotta love that entrepreneurship 🤭🤭

It's nice that kids like coming in, especially for birthdays, that's so cute <33 got kids coming in left and right, and that's cause Julieta know how to run a business fr🙏🙏 picture wall is a W too 🦅🦅

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Touch of Sweetness 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Loki Laufeyson

Sister series to mob!Thor

Summary: you make a new friend, but that’s not all. (short reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You wait at the door. You’re wearing winter clothes but you don’t mind. The stuff in your closet are the only untouched by berry juice. 

As you watch through the window, Jada scoffs and slurps loudly behind you. 

“What are you doing?” She asks. 

You know what she wants. She wants a reaction. Well, you might be sweating in this turtleneck but it’s not because of her. 

“Waiting.” 

“For?” She snips. 

“My ride.” 

“You have a car.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m saving my gas,” you argue. “Where’s Estelle?” 

“She went home,” she chimes in a taunting tone. Oh yes, she went home after they destroyed your wardrobe. “Those berries were good. Fresh.” 

You sigh and shake your head. A sleek dark green car rolls slowly along the curb and stops, idling as a dark figure leans over in the driver seat. That must be them. 

“Gotta go,” you say as you hook your quilted bag over your shoulder. 

“You are such a spoil sport,” she pouts. You open the door but she catches it before you can close it. She huffs as she sees the car, “oh, I see. Another day of fun with criminals.” 

You slow as a figure emerges from the other side of the car. Loki squints over the roof with obvious disappointment. You give a sheepish wave as you approach. You don’t think he knew to expect you, just as much as you don’t expect him. 

“You’re such a loser,” Jada calls after you. “And you’re gonna get hurt.” 

You ignore her as Loki scowls. He doesn’t say a word as he drops back down into the driver’s seat. You open the passengers’ door, “may I?” 

“Hm, haven’t much of a choice in the matter,” he drones as his fingers tap on the ridge steering wheel. 

“Sorry, I... I could’ve driven but Thor--” 

“Yes, he does demand all things happen upon his whim,” he slithers. “Do use your seat belt and close the door. I should hate to think of his whining should you get hurt upon my watch.” 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you shut the door and fumble to do up your belt. He pulls out just as you snap it into place. 

“That was a rather pleasant woman,” he remarks as he drives. “What was it she called you?” 

“Ha, that’s just my sister,” you say. “You know, sister things.” 

“I do have one and she’s just as endearing,” he turns lazily with his thumb. 

“She just woke up. She’s grouchy,” you explain and look around the interior of the car, trying to distract yourself from the tension. You can feel how much he doesn’t want to be there. “This is nice.” 

You run your hand over the wood finish of the dashboard. 

“Authentic. Vintage,” he assures you. 

“Oh,” you retract your hand, “I wouldn’t want to... leave fingerprints. Sorry.” 

He grumbles but says nothing. You suppose that’s better than rebuke. You sit back and watch the streets through the window. The silence is strangling. 

You subtly glance over at him. He’s an intimidating figure. Tall, lithe, unreadable like a feline. You want to apologise again, just for the fact he’s been sent on this errand. 

“What?” He says, startling you. 

“What? Uh, what what?” You murmur and turn your head straight. 

“Why are you staring at me?” He asks. 

“I’m not, I just... looking through the windows,” you lie. 

He huffs and rests his hand on the shifter lazily. You turn your face away, stewing in your embarrassment. 

“The forecast is rather positive. You will be overheated,” he girds. 

You look down at the turtleneck with the ruffled collar and sleeves. He’s right. Another shock of heat blazes in your cheek. 

“I thought it was cute,” you shrug. 

He hums again. He clucks his tongue and speeds up. He peers over at you. 

“You’re not a very convincing liar.” 

“I’m not--” 

“I wonder,” he interrupts, “why you would lie about a shirt.” 

“I’m not lying, it is cute.” 

“It’s... not unsightly,” he allows. “But I’m certain you have something more weather appropriate.” 

“Maybe I do but why do you care?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. 

“Suppose I don’t,” he utters. “I am rather bored by this entire chore and thus I try to distract myself.” 

“Mm, well, I am sorry you have to do this,” you say. 

“Isn’t your fault, isn’t your apology to make,” he rebuffs. 

You frown. There's nothing you can say to him that’s right. You’re used to that and yet he isn’t so vicious as Jada or her friends. He is just blunt. A strangely respectable sort of honest. 

Loki drives up to a grand house. It’s like a fantasy or fairytale. A modern castle. You’ve never been anywhere so fancy. You gape up through the windshield as he rolls through the gates and along the stone drive. Wow. 

“The flies will get in,” he reproaches. 

You snap your mouth shut and sit back. You sniff and twiddle your fingers impatiently. He draws up next to another luxurious vehicle and you undo your belt. You’re out before him. He’s probably just as eager to part ways. 

“Come,” he beckons you as he gets out. 

You obediently follow him. He takes you up the front steps and you stop to admire the stone lion statue. He opens the door and tuts to get you to carry on. 

You enter and let out a ‘woah’ as you take in the spacious entryway. He is unaffected by it all. There’s hardly anything that does impact him deeply. 

“This way,” he utters. 

He takes you through a door and along a hallway. He points you through an open archway and you step inside. It’s a large kitchen that matches the sheer exuberance of the rest of the place. The basket of berries is on the counter as Queenie flutters through the pages of a book. 

“Uh, hi,” you step through as Loki lingers in the hall. “I’m here.” 

“Oh, hello,” she looks up with a smile, “I was just looking for a recipe—where are your berries?” 

You make a face. “You know, I forgot them.” 

She tilts her head in disappointment, “that’s okay. More than enough here.” 

“Sorry, I... rushed out. Must’ve left them right there in the fridge.” Your voice piques but she just goes back to turning pages. 

You near her and turn to face the counter. As you do, your eyes flick back to the door. Loki watches you through it, eyes narrowed, cheeks pinched with skepticism. He bows his chin. 

“I will let my brother know all is in order,” he turns on his heel and struts off. 

“What do you think?” Queenie asks, unbothered by the man’s departure, “tarts or trifle?” 

[sorenphelps]

Thanks for the tag @breathing-and-stuff & @bullets-from-another-dimension!

1. Are you named after anyone? - No.

2. When was the last time you cried? - I don't remember.

3. Do you have kids? - No.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? - Oh yes, maybe too much even.

5. What sports do you play/have you played? - Nothing, I'm really not an athletic person. I had to participate in basketball and volleyball during P.E. back in school, but that was more than a decade ago. I sort of enjoy playing badminton with friends in the summer very occasionally (i'm bad at it tho). I like playing pool (billiard) the most, I can't say I'm particularly good at it, but that's my strongest out of the typical pub sports (pool/snooker/darts/foosball).

6. What’s the first thing you notice about other people? - I tend to check their face, hair and hands, but it can be the way they walk or their voice, it really varies from person to person.

7. Scary movies or happy endings? - I don't like scary movies, but I don't mind an unhappy ending, so it's partially both?

8. Any special talents? - I can draw, duh. I was not aware that I am apparently a decent sharpshooter until I attended some company team building events where we could try multiple weapons and played paintball.

9. Where were you born? - North-East Hungary.

10. What are your hobbies? - Drawing mostly.

11. Do you have any pets? - Nope.

12. All-time fave piece of media? - It's very hard to choose, but I'd say the Ghost in the Shell - Stand Alone Complex anime series maybe.

13. Fave subject in school? - History.

14. Dream job? - I wanted to be a flight attendant for quite a while, but I am too short and I can't swim, so bummer. But I like my current job actually, despite it's very Corporate™ nature (I am an internal auditor and a risk management consultant at a Big4).

15. Eye colour? - Dark brown, which looks like the surface of Mars in extreme close-up:

I'm just back from a little vacation, so idk who filled this already, so i'm just going with an open tag!

[maochira]

I know you won't do Snuffy as a father figure yet, so can you do the father trio reacting their child being a mukbang star when they're not playing soccer? Like their child is wearing a disguise so they won't find out. I can imagine their child being put into some kind of boot camp after the father trio found out because they need to stay fit when they are playing soccer. I asked this because I am currently obvious with watching mukbang because of the yummy foods.

Sorry if you expected something serious, but I had no ideas what to write for this. So I let my friend @deerangle3 write this and the way I know them, it's gonna turn into a crackfic. I hope it at least makes you laugh LMAO (Edit after Claire wrote this: we made @wasfuerpainman read this out loud it was the funniest shit ever)

A/N: I FUCKING LOVE SNUFFY!!!!! I WILL ABSOLUTELY INCLUDE HIM!!!! *kisses snuffy passionately on the cheek in a platonic way* ALSO!! "Y/Nzilla" is the username, yk like godzilla but with your name (because youre a god😉😉)

"MHhhhhh~ whis food is so goowd!" Y/N stuffed their mouth with fresh deep-fried shrimps, breaded generously with crunchy panko. The camera was focused on their visage. The live-chat was speeding by at insane speeds.

Footsuckurerer:'Y/Nzilla! I love your content! Eat my flesh please Y/N-Sama!'

Germs985:'HIHIAHIHUGIUAHDASKJ YNNYNYNNYNYNNN!!/"(!")( I LOE YOU PLEASE GIBE ME OYuR ATTENSHPM!!!😍😍🌹❤️❤️🥰🥰🫶'

Such were some of the silly comments Y/N would see every day in the Live Chat.

"Pahahah, they don't know..." Y/N thought to themself, almost snickering. The 'Y/Nsters' as they liked to call themselves, were so obsessed yet they weren't even aware of Y/Ns true appearance.

Yes! A disguise! Y/N wore an obnoxious green wig, though it was worn perfectly, in a way that it looked completely natural (well, dyed, but attached to the head). On top of that, some nicely bedazzled Sunglasses, completely hiding the eyes.

Y/N's Parents were completely unaware of Y/N doing Mukbang. They made good money as well, but knew that their parents probably wouldn't fully approve of Mukbang, because they would rather have their child play soccer. This was also the majority of the reason for the disguise. Another reason was just not wanting to be recognized, or not wanting to show their face to the entire internet.

Y/N lived in a large house with their 4 dads, Noel Noa, Marc Snuffy, Chris Prince and Lavinho. Who knew if they were dating or just friends raising a kid together. From a young age, Y/N was playing soccer. As soon as they learned to walk, there was always a ball o kick. They were never super insistent, never forced soccer on Y/N but it was still a relevant part. In school, Y/N was known for their great soccer skills, as well as captain of the soccer club!

Y/N takes another passionate, big bite of the shrimpilicious sustenance. "mmh mmh mMMMMHH!!! whe fwawors awe mewting on my tONGUE!" Y/N mumbled, the food making their words hardly coherent.

timeskip

"HEYY Y/NNNNNNN MY LitTLE MOUSE!!!" Lavinho jumped at Y/N, hugging them. "WAnna play some FOOTBALL!!""!"!"§"§"!?"??"§???"

Y/N nodded, they assumed their other dads would also be there, and they were right! They kicked the ball back and forth until Chris mentioned something. "Guys, have you seen this new Mukbanger? They're like, totally silly." Chris chuckled. Noa looked at Chris with a "HM?!??!"-ish look. "Since when are you in the Mukbang-Community?" "I'm in it for the nutritional knowledge! Y'know, like, whats good for my muscles." He proudly closed his eyes with a confident expression and flexed his biceps. "I do that too sometimes." Snuffy said.

"Who do you mean?" Y/N asked, slightly afraid of if Chris meant them. "Uhhh they wear a green wig I think!" He raised his finger in an intelligent manner. "Oh, I don't think I've heard of them..." Y/N pretended.

"I think I have"

The conversation went back and forth about this mukbanger. Eventually, Chris pulled up a picture of you in your disguise. "They seem kinda familiar don't they?" Snuffy asked, scratching his chin in thought. "Ya think so?" Lavinho asked, looking a little more closely. "HmMMmmMmmmmmm.... let's just eat dinner." Noa said, walking back toward the house.

The five of them enjoyed a yummy yummy dinner. "I could use these leftovers for my stream tomorrow..." Y/N thought to themself.

timeskip

"Y/N!?!?!?? WHY ARE YOU WEARING A GREEN WIG??? AND EATING???? aRE YOU ajsdk---.ajniu THAT MUKBANGER!??!?!?!??" Chris was in utter shock. He caught them red-handed. Y/N immediately shut down the stream. Chris wasn't supposed to be home! "DAD THIS ISN'T WHAT YOU THINK IT IS!" but Chris had already run out of the room and called your other dads. Oh No!!!

"Mukbang? You??" Snuffy looked at them, a little shocked, or was it amazement? "Do you at least make money?" Lavi asked. "Yea..." Y/N looked down at the ground, perhaps slightly embarrassed. "How much?" Noa wanted to know.

"Uhm,,, like around 3000 on average, but it all depends on how many donations I get..." They mumbled quietly. They all looked a little shocked. Good shocked. "That's pretty... pretty good." Snuffy nodded approvingly.

"Please don't be mad at me..." Tears started welling up in Y/Ns eyes.

"Oh Y/N, Why would we be mad about such a thing?" Noa went in to hug Y/N and the others soon followed, leading to a comforting group hug. "As long as you're safe, happy and healthy, we don't have an issue with it." Snuffy gave them a gentle smile. Chris agreed "As long as your grades don't slip, or you reach an unhealthy weight or something, were totally fine with you doing this as a... side job?"

"Yeah, and you're using a disguise right? So it'll be harder for strangers to find you." Lavi added.

They weren't mad in the slightest, just a little confused maybe, but proud for sure, because they had gotten quite successful! Y/N promised them they would play more soccer, or at least do more physical exercise with them, so that Y/N would stay healthy and not become the next Nicocado Avocado. Surprisingly, Snuffy even suggested that they could join Y/N on a stream sometime. It would surely bump their viewers if a world-class soccer player ate Mukbang with Y/Nzilla! Yet alone four!

timeskip

Sockersucker: "WHAT !?!?!? NOEL NoA STUFFING HIS FACE WITH HOT DOGS?!??!?!"

KeineHoelle: "THIS is the most epic colllabb ever! How did you get into contact with the pro soccer players?"

SalesBadman: "CHRIS PRINC?!?? LAVINSNO!?!?????ßßß?? SNUAFY!? NAO NOEL!??? WHAAAATT IS GOING ON!?!?? I better call my wife."

SnuffyLover69: "OMGOMGOMG SNUFFY AND Y/NZILLA THIS IS INSANE I AM GOING INSANE I WILL SELL MY ORGANS FOR YOU Y/NAND SNUFFY I AM IN ABSOLUTE FISBELIEF HOLY MOLY MACKARONY WHAT INT EH FUCKING BANANAASS!!!!!"

Chat was going absolutely insane, seeing these world-class players eating yummy hotdogs with this odd-looking Mukbanger. The viewer count spiked up to 20k, from the usual 3-5k. More and more people joined the stream, the viewer count kept rising and the donations went insane as well. This was the best day yet, career-wise.

It was a very wholesome eating session with Y/N and their dads.

YUM!

[silvfyre-writings]

The Boy with Emerald Eyes Pt. 4 (BSD Fanfic)

Hello, hello, welcome back to paperboy, it's certainly been a while hasn't it? A lot's been happening recently, and I do apologise for the delay it took in getting this chapter out. Life's just been hectic, and I've been struggling a bit, but I managed to do it.

Tbh with you all, I've lost the plot for this story entirely, I have no idea where it's going because the original plan I had was derailed (thank you Edgar), but I think I'm getting back on track, BUT IN SAYING THAT!

Do not expect an update until the new year. Why? Because I need a break. I'm tired, and this fic takes a lot of energy out of me. Of course, if I do happen to finish the next chapter before the new year, I will post it, but do not rush me; I am only human after all.

Anyway, without further ado, I bring you the new chapter, and I hope you enjoy <3

It was January 30th when Edgar opened his eyes and discovered that his attempt to drink himself to death had failed. Unlike last time where he had felt nothing but anger and despair over his failure, this time he felt nothing. It was as if he’d woken up with absolutely no feelings whatsoever. The anger and despair he’d expected to feel was nowhere to be found, and he didn’t even feel depressed at the realisation that he’d survived yet another attempt on his life. He just felt… empty, like his very soul had been sucked dry, but by what, he couldn’t say. All he could say, was that the emptiness wasn’t just in his mind, it was in his body too; limbs heavy and unwilling to move, eyes slow to blink and struggling to stay open.

Yes, Edgar was an empty man, and he’d finally come to accept it.

As his mind slowly came back to awareness, Edgar continued to stare at the ceiling, staring at the markings and indentations that marred the surface. He just stared and stared, counting cracks, and observing stains and—wait, I know this ceiling. The moment the thought came to him, the realisation dawned on him and he recognised where it was he’d ended up, and honestly, he would much rather have woken up on the streets. How was it, that both of his suicide attempts had failed and landed him in Ougai Mori’s clinic? Surely he couldn’t be that unlucky? Oh, but apparently he was, for the door to the room opened to reveal the doctor in question, and that was when Edgar began to pray for the building to just collapse on top of him and put him out of his misery. Because anything was better than being at the mercy of the man that had already treated and lectured him once before—never mind the incident with Ranpo—and the last thing Edgar wanted right now was another lecture about how bad he treated himself.

He'd had more than enough of that already.

The bed dipped by his side, and Edgar glanced over to see Mori sitting beside him. The doctor wasn’t looking at him, but Edgar could see the pensive look on his face, a look that could only come from dealing with someone like him; he didn’t fault Mori for wearing such a look, but he wished that he didn’t have to see it. He turned away, and rasped, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for this time, Mr Poe?” Mori sighed, leaning back on his hands as he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling. “For taking up one of my beds again? For scaring my friend’s ward again? For failing to commit suicide again? Please, do tell, Mr Poe, why are you sorry?” The words were harsh, but not spoken in anger, yet Edgar couldn’t stop himself from flinching as he heard them. He didn’t know how to answer Mori, didn’t know if he even wanted to. But he owed the man an answer, so he’d try at least.

“I don’t know…” Edgar sighed and closed his eyes. “I just… keep inconveniencing you, and your family. And you don’t deserve it, so I am sorry.”

“Then why do you continue down this path of self destruction?” Was it just him, or was there genuine sadness on Mori’s face?

Edgar sighed. “Because it’s the only path I know to walk on.”

Mori looked over his shoulder, staring right at Edgar as he asked. “Then why not ask for help?”

At that, Edgar laughed, a hollow sound devoid of the usual joy a laugh should be filled with. “Who would want to help me?”

Mori didn’t respond to Edgar’s question, just sighed, and pushed himself up from the bed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat as he continued to just stand there in silence. It was clear that the man was thinking about something, so Edgar didn’t say anything—not that he had anything to say in the first place—and just let the silence grow between them. Finally, after what felt like hours, Mori moved, making to leave the room seemingly without speaking whatever was on his mind. But when the doctor reached the door to Edgar’s room, he stopped, hand on the doorframe, and turned back to face him. The expression on Mori’s face was one of despair, and it was so strange to see it on Mori’s face that Edgar couldn’t turn away. Mori’s lips twitched into a sad smile, his eyes falling out of focus just enough to be noticed. “You’ll find that there were plenty of people willing to give you help, Mr Poe. You just drove them away before you realized that you needed the help in the first place.”

And if that didn’t just make Edgar feel even more guilty than he already was.

Nothing more was said as Mori left the room, shutting the door behind him, leaving Edgar alone to his thoughts. They weren’t thoughts he particularly wanted to be having, but it wasn’t like he had a choice, not unless he could get back to sleep within the next five seconds. Which he couldn’t, because once Edgar’s mind started thinking, it was hard for him to stop it. So as he lay there, thinking, he couldn’t help but start to think about how he’d ended up in the clinic again. His memory was completely unreliable; foggy at best, blank at worst, but Edgar usually was able to piece the basics back together whenever he struggled to remember.

The last thing he remembered was drinking an entire bottle of liquor; after that, there was nothing for him to recall. It was like someone had reached into his brain and plucked the memory from inside of it, taking it from him, hiding it where he’d never be able to find it. But there was something that he could remember. Green and warmth. He couldn’t recall what the green and what the warmth belonged to, but whenever he tried to think back, that was what he remembered.

And for once, he wished that he could remember, because that warm green seemed important.

He just didn’t know why.

Edgar was left alone until sunset, when the door creaked open and Fukuzawa stepped into the room with a tray of food in hand. Their eyes met—violet and steel blue—and Edgar began to regret ever waking up in the first place, because the expression on Fukuzawa’s face was not a happy one. Truly, out of all the expressions that Edgar had seen on that stoic face before now, this one was the worst, and that clearly told him just how much he’d messed up. Because he vaguely remembered the argument that he’d had with Fukuzawa’s ward upstairs, and the way he’d walked out without apologising despite the sheer amount of guilt he’d felt.

Ranpo…

And just like that, a memory slipped into place; worried green eyes attached to an equally worried face that mouthed words he couldn’t remember in the slightest, and from there it didn’t take long for him to realize that Ranpo had been the one to find him and bring him here. Again. No wonder Fukuzawa was staring at him with utter discontent; he would too if he were the older man. There was no forgiving what he’d done, especially when all that Fukuzawa and his family had done was show him kindness that he’d done nothing but throw back in their faces.

“You’ll find that there were plenty of people willing to give you help, Mr Poe.”

Edgar turned away first, casting his gaze to the blankets beneath his hands. His hands clutched at the blankets and he listened as Fukuzawa moved about, first placing the tray on the bedside table before sitting in the chair that’d taken up residence beside his bed. He waited until silence fell upon the room before he lifted his head, drawing in a breath. “I am sorry.”

Fukuzawa didn’t say anything, and Edgar did not dare look at him.

But he forced himself to keep speaking. “You, and Dr Mori, and Ranpo showed me nothing but kindness when I did not deserve it, and all I did was cast it aside. None of you deserved that, so I apologize.” Edgar risked looking up, and felt encouraged when he saw Fukuzawa focused on him, not angry or upset, but listening. “And I’m not expecting you to answer me, but… I think I remember Ranpo being the one to find me. Is he… alright?”

For a long time, Fukuzawa sat there, arms in his sleeves and eyes closed. And for a long time, Edgar sat there and waited for a response, fidgeting as time continued to pass by and still, Fukuzawa said nothing. Another minute passed, and Fukuzawa sighed, head dipping. “Ranpo is alright. But I have made the decision to keep you two from seeing each other.” The older man stood and tilted his head towards the tray of food. “I ask that you respect my decision and do not ask about Ranpo again. I also ask that you eat at least one thing. I will return in the morning.”

Right… makes sense. He’s just doing what he can to protect Ranpo. The words hurt, but Edgar understood why they were said in the first place. He nodded. “I understand.”

“Sleep well, Mr Poe.” Fukuzawa gave a slight bow before he turned on his heel and left the room.

And Edgar was alone, but this time he welcomed it, because it allowed him to think.

And he had a lot of thinking to do.

At first, Edgar tried to think back to his missing memories, hoping to recall at least something that would give him an inkling as to what had happened. There was a few things he recalled, such as the argument with Ranpo—that wasn’t really an argument, but more Edgar lashing out—along with the disagreement that he’d had with John and Frances. Now that had been an argument, at least… in Edgar’s drunken mind it had been, but suddenly he wasn’t too sure, and he couldn’t remember enough of it to accurately tell what actually happened. They were bits and pieces that were just out of reach—there and visible, but taunting him by flickering in and out of existence right in front of him.

He really wanted to remember.

But did he really? What good would remembering do him when the damage had already been done? Whatever he’d said and done had already happened, and that was that, there was no going back. There were no do-overs, no going back in time to tell his past self to stop and think, there was only the future; a future that he was apparently supposed to live for. How, he didn’t know, nor was he sure if he really wanted to, but it didn’t seem like he was being given much of a choice in the matter. Two failed suicides was enough to tell him that.

“We can’t help you if you don’t want to help yourself.”

Those were Frances’ words, one of the few things he did remember from that day, and he had to admit that his adoptive mother might’ve actually been right. If he actually wanted to be helped, then perhaps he had to actually ask for it and accept it. He wasn’t sure if that was possible, considering it was him, and that he’d been stuck in this spiral of alcohol and melancholy for two years now, but… maybe he could. Maybe he could reach out and ask for help? Maybe he could learn to stand on his feet again and find his way out the hole he’d long curled up in.

Because despite everything, there was still this little weird and obscure group of foreigners in some sort of makeshift family that were willing to lend a hand.

He remembered Ranpo telling him that pride was pointless, that it was overrated, and that it was better to live the way you wanted to live without thinking too much about what society thought, and Edgar remembered telling Ranpo that it didn’t really work like that. Because in the end, he and Ranpo lived wildly different lives, so of course it couldn’t work like that. But what if it did? What if Ranpo had had the right idea this entire time and Edgar had just been too blind to see it?

“Sure, I could take pride in myself, but what’ll that get me, really? Kicked to the ground by people who had more pride?”

At first, the words hadn’t made sense to him, but now they kind of did, because that was exactly what had happened to him. He’d taken pride in himself once upon a time, only to be beaten down by those who held much more pride; he’d been kicked to the ground and left to burn, all because he’d been too prideful and thought that nothing could touch him from his little cloud of happiness. Only, he had, and he’d been sent crashing to the ground, losing everything from his pride to his happiness all in one go, all because he and the man he’d loved hadn’t been careful enough, and they’d been caught and thrown into the spotlight.

Edgar sighed and rolled over, facing the wall as he tried to figure out just what it was that he needed to do. It would be so much simpler if someone would just come and straight up tell him what path awaited him, but no one would because that just wasn’t how life worked—well his life at least. There probably was some lucky soul out there in the world that had their life put together and knew exactly what to do whenever something bad happened, but Edgar was not that soul. He was the soul that fell apart the moment bad things happened, unable to find a solution in an ocean that threatened to drown him. But maybe… that was okay.

Maybe he didn’t have to know what to do next.

Maybe he could just take it one day at a time, and see what that brought him.

“Mr Poe, it is time to get up.” Edgar groaned, reluctantly opening his eyes as Fukuzawa’s voice invaded his dreams and dragged him out of sleep. He was greeted by the sun, the morning rays blinding him momentarily, and he immediately squeezed his eyes shut again, rolling away to avoid getting up. It was too early for him to be awake; sunrise was a time that he not seen for years, because he went out of his way to avoid it, much preferring the comfort of the dark. Night time was a much simpler time; when he’d been actively writing, he’d often stared out his window at the moon as it rose into the sky, watching and using it for inspiration in his novels.

If he’d tried to do that with the sun, he would’ve gone blind a long time ago.

Fukuzawa’s voice echoed again, and this time, it was accompanied by a hand tugging his blankets away. “Mr Poe, I will drag you out of this bed.”

Edgar looked over his shoulder, annoyed, and huffed. “Why?”

Fukuzawa raised an eyebrow. “You have been in that bed for a week. Now that you are awake, it is time to bathe.”

“A week?” Edgar’s eyes went wide, struggling to comprehend that he’d actually managed to knock himself out for an entire week. Just how much did I drink? Just as the thought crossed his mind, another one quickly followed, this one having him eye Fukuzawa warily. “What do you mean by bathe?”

“You need to clean yourself. Or do the nobility not take care of their own personal hygiene?” Fukuzawa tugged on the blankets more, and this time, Edgar allowed them to be pulled away from him. Mostly because he was trying to juggle what Fukuzawa was telling him, but also because he was still somewhat shocked about how long he’d been at the clinic. No wonder Mori had sounded so exhausted the last time they spoke.

Edgar swung his legs over the edge of the bed. As much as he didn’t want to get up, he could already tell from the no-nonsense look on Fukuzawa’s face that he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. Hell, the older man probably took joy in forcing the patients of the clinic up and out of bed the moment the sun was up. It was as Fukuzawa reached down to wrap his hands around Edgar’s forearms, that Edgar answered his question. “Of course we do! It’s just that… well… people of your class—”

“People of our class bathe as well, Mr Poe. If we didn’t there would be a lot more sickness. We may not have the fancy bathtubs that you are familiar with, but we still have our ways.” Fukuzawa only sounded mildly annoyed as he dragged Edgar upright and guided him over to the chair, and Edgar was surprised. If he’d been in Fukuzawa’s shoes, he probably would’ve been annoyed at such a stupid question.

But he wasn’t going to question it, not when Fukuzawa was the only reason he was even standing, his legs so shaky from disuse that he could barely put one foot in front of the other. But he managed, and collapsed into the chair. “I didn’t know.” He murmured, watching Fukuzawa as the other man stripped the bed of its bedding. “So, um… how do you bathe?”

Fukuzawa paused in his actions and looked over at Edgar. He could’ve sworn he saw the man’s lips twitch in amusement. “With a washcloth and basin.”

Edgar threw his head into his hands and groaned. Of course. “Excuse my ignorance.”

“It is excused.” Fukuzawa folded the dirty bedding and placed it by the door, no doubt to be taken and washed later, before he placed new bedding on the bed. “Mori and I have dealt with nobility before, so we are aware there are things you might not understand.”

Ignoring the jab towards him, Edgar leaned forward in the chair, a little curious at the information Fukuzawa was letting slip; he had started to think that Fukuzawa was incapable of talking about himself. “You have?”

“Mori is good at what he does.” Fukuzawa continued to make the bed without looking up. “Not all nobles are as fixated on race as some are, and the ones that don’t, pay well.”

Edgar bristled. He refused to be lumped in with the nobles that wouldn’t interact with other people purely because they weren’t from England. He wasn’t like the nobles that would beat down, mock, and ridicule people just because they had a different skin colour to himself. No, he’d always done his best to treat other people with respect… well, in theory at least. Edgar wasn’t so sure that he’d actually succeeded in showing it. But Fukuzawa didn’t know that, nor did he need to; either way, his comment was more than enough to get Edgar’s blood boiling. He wasn’t a cruel person. “I don’t fixate on race.”

Now Fukuzawa did look up, expression neutral, if a little surprised. “I didn’t say you did.” And before Edgar could even open his mouth, Fukuzawa continued, turning around to sit on the edge of the bed. “You know, you are a very hostile person.”

“What do you mean?” Edgar asked, suddenly unsure of himself.

“My comment was not directed at you, yet you took it as if I did.”

“Oh…” Edgar hunched in on himself, feeling like an absolute fool of a person. Of course Fukuzawa hadn’t been talking about him specifically, he’d just been talking about the nobility in general. Yet another case of him screwing everything up, all because he hadn’t stopped to actually listen and take note of what Fukuzawa was saying. The worst thing was that Fukuzawa was right, he was being hostile for no reason. Well… not no reason, because becoming hostile was a familiar path to him, one he’d taken many times, and the reason why he had no one left in his life in the first place.

A sigh came from the man in front of him, and Edgar flinched away as Fukuzawa stood, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for the man to get angry and throw him out. Only, nothing happened, except a hand coming to rest on his shoulder, squeezing it. Edgar cracked open one eye to see Fukuzawa standing above him. That same hand began to pull, unrelenting until he was standing once again. “Come on. I have some errands to run in a little bit.”

“And?” Edgar blinked, bewildered at the sudden change in topic.

“You are going to accompany me, of course. After your bath, that is.”

Edgar had had a lot of embarrassing moments in his life. That was simply the case when one used alcohol has an escape mechanism, but nothing was more embarrassing than being bathed by someone else. Really, there wasn’t. Edgar had thrown up over himself and other people, he’d passed out in the streets, and he’d failed twice at suicide, but not once, had he been seen naked by another human being that wasn’t his family. And sure, Fukuzawa was kind about it, and not judgemental at all, and had probably even kept him clean when he’d been unconscious, but it was still embarrassing to have the other man hold onto his arms to keep him upright—because his legs were still shaking like a newborn foal—whilst he stripped himself of his clothing and then climbed into the tub that was as different from the one in his own home as could be. And then he bathed, scrubbing at his skin with a cloth and the tiniest bit of soap until Fukuzawa deemed him clean enough and helped him out of the tub, offering him clothes that certainly weren’t Edgar’s own, but were his size. He couldn’t help but give Fukuzawa a look.

“There’s a family that makes clothes, and they donate some to us for patients to wear when their own clothes are too tattered or dirty to wear.” Fukuzawa explained as he helped Edgar into the pants. “They caught wind that you were a patient here, and were very quick to make something for you to wear.”

“Wait, what? They—they knew who I was?” Edgar froze, fingers halfway through threading a button, stress growing within him at the idea of being recognized by anyone, especially in his current state.

“There are not many in this part of London that wouldn’t recognize you, Mr Poe. But before you can work yourself into a panic, they do not recognize you as Lord Allan the noble, but as Mr Poe, the writer.”

The writer? What do you mean by that? Edgar thought, but when he went to ask Fukuzawa what he’d meant by that, the man was already moving, taking Edgar’s dirty clothes into his arms, and leaving the room with them, and leaving Edgar alone. It only took him a second to realize that he probably needed to follow Fukuzawa, and somehow managed to get his legs working well enough to stumble after the man. And sure enough, Fukuzawa wasn’t far, having stopped to wait for him. Edgar chose that moment to open his mouth and ask Fukuzawa what he’d meant, but he was interrupted before he even formed the first word.

“You will help me deliver medicine to the families that need it today.” Fukuzawa said, entering a room to dump the clothes, before he returned and then ventured into the room on the opposite side of the hallway, once again, returning a moment later, but this time with a satchel. “It will do you some good to get out of the clinic and get some fresh air, and then we will get you something to eat.”

“Um… do I get a choice here?” Edgar asked. The last thing he wanted to do was go outside and walk around, where he would no doubt be harassed by people whose curiosity was greater than their tact. Because these were people that would recognize Fukuzawa and not him, and honestly, Edgar just didn’t want to deal with it.

Fukuzawa paused and looked at him. “You are a patient here, Mr Poe, and this is part of your treatment, so no, you do not get a choice. Of course, you can refuse, but then I will be forced to tell Dr Mori that you have, and you will find he will not be as kind as I am.”

Edgar sighed, and resigned himself to his fate. “Fine then. I’ll go with you.”

“A wise decision, Mr Poe.”

It was an interesting experience, to wander the streets of London with another human being, even if that human being was a man from a foreign land that stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of the population because he refused to wear anything but traditional clothing. At least, Edgar thought it traditional, because it certainly wasn’t British, even though the British did sometimes wear some outrageous things.

He'd seen his fair share of over the top dresses at all the balls he’d been invited to over the years.

Of course, Edgar had no intention of asking Fukuzawa what his clothes were called because not only was it not his business, the man still scared him. But he was curious; very curious.

But what surprised Edgar the most, was how nice people were; it didn’t matter if they were children or elders, as he and Fukuzawa walked down the streets, people called out greetings, and stopped to talk to them about mindless things. Edgar always stayed quiet and out the way when they were stopped, more than content to let Fukuzawa do the talking. He was just grateful that his hair covered most of his face, because the last thing he wanted was to be recognized by someone—he didn’t think he’d be able to answer whatever questions they would have for him. He could barely answer Mori’s as is.

It was nice though, to see how the common people interacted with each other, because it was so different to the way that the nobility interacted. The world that Edgar lived in was filled with politics and false friendships, where the slightest misstep resulted in being backstabbed by those you thought you could trust. Sure, there were some genuine friendships amongst those that were higher in class than Edgar and his family could ever hope to be, but for everyone else, it was a fight to gain favour, to win the right to call yourself part of the inner circle. Edgar had set foot in the inner circle once, and once only, back when he’d actively been publishing his stories.

But after… that, he’d fallen out of that circle and been forbidden from ever setting foot into it again.

So it was… interesting to say the least, to see the difference in the way that commoners interacted with each other. From what he’d heard, the lower class was supposed to be filled with turmoil, people fighting amongst each other for scraps of food and clothing, leaving the sick and injured to fend for themselves, things like that. But there was none of that here. Edgar didn’t know if it was just this particular area of London, or if it was the same all over, but the people here had a sort of camaraderie that he could only have ever dreamed of having.

Children ran about the streets, laughing and playing in tattered clothes, but with smiles on their faces. Shopkeepers, rather than chase away the people that loitered outside their stores, chatted with them instead; Edgar watched as a café owner excused himself and returned with a box of sweets, handing them over to an elderly gentleman who then approached the group of children hiding around the corner and began to hand them out. He watched as the tailor took one look at woman with a torn shirt that was barely hanging on, and offered to fix it for her—for free.

It was all so kind, and Edgar honestly couldn’t believe that such a world existed.

“What are you thinking about, Mr Poe?” Fukuzawa asked him as they left the home of a family they’d just delivered medicine to, carefully pulling the bag of food he’d been gifted over his shoulder, taking great care to not break anything.

Edgar stared at the bag for a moment as he thought about what answer to give. “The people in this area are… really nice. I’ve never… seen such kindness before.”

Fukuzawa gave him a long look as the two of them walked down the street, before he sighed and turned to the road ahead of them, slowing his pace from a brisk walk to a gentle stroll. “Mr Poe, can I ask you a question?”

“What kind of question?” Edgar felt himself tense, immediately cautious about what kind of question he would be asked. It was impossible for him to decipher just what exactly Fukuzawa was thinking about, and this time was no different. In fact, it was even more impossible because the man was just in front of him, his face hidden and therefore expression unreadable. Yet… Fukuzawa’s questions had never been cruel or insulting, only genuine, and that was reason enough for Edgar to listen, even if he still feared what was about to come.

“Why don’t you believe in kindness?”

“Excuse me? I do believe in kindness…” Even as he said the words, they felt fake, like he was trying to talk through a mouthful of mud. It left a horrible aftertaste in his mouth.

Fukuzawa hummed and glanced over his shoulder towards Edgar. “Then let me rephrase; why do you not believe that you deserve kindness?”

Edgar ducked his head and came to a stop. “Because I don’t. Who would want to be kind to someone like me? I’m just… not someone who people love or care enough about to befriend. I’m just someone who came on a boat, that used to write stories for people until I exchanged my quill for the bottle and threw it all away. So, yeah, I don’t deserve kindness because I have done nothing to warrant any kindness. And really, that’s okay, it’s something I’ve come to accept.”

There was another hum, before a hand came to rest between his shoulders, causing Edgar to flinch from the suddenness of the touch. He raised his head and stared at Fukuzawa, eyes wide, and arms curled towards himself. Fukuzawa’s hand continued to remain on his back, but his expression was kind as he guided Edgar into moving forward again, and it was that kind look that loosened Edgar’s lips.

“It’s not fair.” Edgar began, allowing his arms to curl around himself as he walked. “It’s not fair that I was plucked off streets of America and brought here, just to be forced to conform to his country’s societal standards that I never understood. I did my best, I followed what Frances and John did, and did as they told me, dressed as they told me, and played nice as they told me, but even then, I was still the little American boy trying to play the lord he never would be. So I just ignored them and wrote stories—good stories—that the other noble children liked, and I kept writing, and writing, until a company offered to publish my books and things got good.”

He paused just long enough to take a breath before he pushed on. “People started to take an interest in me and talk to me; asking me about my books and my life, and seeing me for me instead of the adopted child of the Allan’s family. It’s why I used Poe when I published my stories actually, because… I could separate myself from Lord Allan, the noble, and Edgar Poe, the writer.”

Silence followed his words, and Edgar began to stress that maybe he shouldn’t have just blurted all of that out to someone who barely even knew him, yet Fukuzawa was still walking, still staring straight ahead, but also clearly listening to what Edgar had been saying. Still, he kept quiet, his face flushed and palms sweaty from where they still clutched at his shirt.

Fukuzawa stopped and turned to face him, wearing a look of interest. “So what went wrong?”

And that question, that simple question, was all it took for Edgar to continue, his eyes pricking slightly as he spoke, this time in a much calmer tone than before. “I fell in love with the wrong person, that’s what went wrong.” His fists tightened their grip as he strode past Fukuzawa and kept walking. “A group of American’s came over for business ventures just after I turned eighteen, and my family worked with them. It was an experience, to get to know people from the country I’d been born into, and they were nice. One of them especially. He was… kind.”

“You fell in love with him.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, and a truthful one at that.

Edgar nodded. “I did. I fell for him, and he fell for me, and we pursued each other for two years. It was a secret, of course, no one knew what we did or how we felt. He had his own house in the city that I would visit him at, and we would just spend time together, him working, and me writing.” He couldn’t help but smile as he remembered the gentle way that his old love had handled him, treating him like he was buried treasure pulled from the ocean, always telling him how talented and gentle he was, kissing him and running his beautiful hands across Edgar’s bare skin. “It was—It was nice.”

And then he sighed, and the smile fell from his face. “But we were foolish. We got too complacent and someone caught us in bed together and told everyone. Soon enough, instead of being praised for my literary pieces, I was seen as nothing but a sodomite, a molly, someone who just whored himself out to men because he found them attractive instead of the countless women that tried to get my attention. And—And—” Edgar broke off as his eyes began to sting and swallowed, desperately trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall and make him look even more pathetic than he already was.

He heard footsteps behind him, and an arm wrap around his shoulders, providing a comforting, warm weight. “And what, Mr Poe?”

“And instead of standing beside me, the man I loved said that I made a move on him, and that he never loved me in that way, that he was just playing along because he thought I was lonely.” Edgar sobbed, ignoring the tears that ran down his cheeks. “After two years of loving each other, he just threw it all away to protect his precious reputation and let me take the fall for it. Alone! And it hurt. It hurt so much. I tried to talk to him the day after the papers ran the first article, but he wouldn’t hear me out, and the person that caught us continued to spread rumours and lies about me, and soon enough, everyone that had once liked or tolerated my existence wanted nothing to do with me. I was nothing but a piece of shit that needed to be shovelled out of the street.

It was the worst time of my life… everything I’d done prior, and everything I tried to do after… reduced to nothing and forgotten about just because I loved a man. The nobility refused to acknowledge me, and soon enough I was thrown from every social circle I’d once had the luxury of being in. And John and Frances, they tried, at first, they really did try to help, but they didn’t understand the pain I was going through and I knew that they thought me a freak of nature as well. I just felt so lonely after it all, that I dressed myself in peasant clothes and found a bar that didn’t recognize me. And drank myself into oblivion for the first time.” Edgar chuckled to himself and wiped away the tears that continued to fall. “And well, the papers pretty much covered everything after that.”

He waited for Fukuzawa to say something, hoped he would say something after allowing Edgar to go off like that, but the man stood there, silent with his arm around Edgar’s shoulders, and he began to grow worried that he’d upset the man or somehow angered him—which was irrational because Fukuzawa didn’t look angry, but also he couldn’t be too sure since he didn’t really know the man at all. The hand on his shoulder tightened and Edgar flinched, only to find himself pulled into an embrace, something that he hadn’t experienced in well over two years, and he could feel the tears returning.

“You are right that it wasn’t fair.” Fukuzawa’s voice was gentle as he held Edgar tightly in his arms. “It wasn’t fair that you were cast aside just because you found happiness in someone who didn’t fit the norm, and it certainly wasn’t fair that the man you loved and trusted, abandoned you to deal with it on your own. It should never have happened, and although I did not know you two years ago, I apologize for the way that no one stopped to lend you a helping hand when you needed it the most.” There was a brief pause, no longer than a few seconds. “But know that now you have that helping hand, and sure, it’s probably not from the people you expected it to come from, but it’s there, waiting for you to reach out and take it. Only if you are ready to take it, of course.”

And just like that, the dam holding back Edgar’s tears cracked and crumbled away, and he began to sob in earnest, hands reaching up to clutch at the front of Fukuzawa’s shirt as he cried into the man’s chest. His entire body shook with the force of his tears as an entire two years’ worth of pent up emotions broke free and made themselves known. Edgar couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried like this; surely it had to have been that day when, in the pouring rain, he’d banged on his former love’s door, begging for him to just come out or let him in so that they could talk.

His knocks and pleas hadn’t been answered, but he knew they’d been heard when a curtain had shifted, falling back into place in the way it only could’ve done so if someone had been watching him through it to begin with. And Edgar’s heart had broken entirely at the realization that he’d been completely and utterly abandoned by the one person he’d thought would stand by him through all the slander and hatred. But it seemed that he’d placed his heart and trust in the wrong person; obviously Edgar was just as unlovable as he’d always been.

So yeah, that night was probably the last time he’d cried so much.

And still, Fukuzawa continued to hold him, doing nothing more but being the pillar that kept him upright. He didn’t move to stroke Edgar’s back like his family might have once done for him, but his arms remained wrapped around him, strong and firm, more than enough to remind Edgar that he wasn’t alone. I should let go. Edgar told himself. I’m making a scene and a mess. He continued to think, but made no attempt to actually do something about it. Why is he doing this? I don’t deserve this—this kindness. He just continued to stand there and cling, desperately holding onto that kindness he’d been shown before it could be taken from him again.

He knew it would, because his life wasn’t meant to be a happy one, it wasn’t meant to be filled with kindness and people that cared.

Happiness wasn’t made for people like him.

Edgar didn’t know how long it was until he stopped crying, but by the time he was aware that he’d stopped, his eyes burned and his jaw hurt, and there was that exhaustion clinging to him that made him want nothing more than to curl up on the ground and sleep. For a while—he didn’t know how long—he stood there until slowly, his hands uncurled and dropped back to his side and he stepped back, Fukuzawa’s arms falling away. He raised his hands to wipe at his eyes.

“Do you feel better now?” Fukuzawa asked.

Edgar nodded. He did feel better after crying, as embarrassing as it was. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason to apologize.” Fukuzawa said, reaching out to grab Edgar’s sleeve and tug him into moving. “Come along.”

That was when Edgar realized that they were no longer on the street they’d been walking on before Edgar had broken down, but hidden in a little side alley where it was just the two of them. At some point, Fukuzawa must’ve dragged him somewhere quiet—private, for Edgar to break down where no one could see him. And now he was just following Fukuzawa like a lost puppy, trailing behind the man as he led him to wherever it was that they were going. No words were spoken as they walked, not that any needed to be, for Edgar was still embarrassed about the way that he’d dumped his entire life story upon Fukuzawa, and Fukuzawa wasn’t the kind of person that talked much at all.

And honestly, just this once, Edgar preferred the silence.

He didn’t know what he would say anyway.

Edgar found himself back at the clinic, although he didn’t really take much notice as Fukuzawa guided him back to the room he was currently staying in; Edgar didn’t hesitate to just collapse onto the bed and let his exhaustion sweep him into the peaceful ocean that was sleep. As he drifted off, he felt hands—no doubt Fukuzawa’s—pulling his shoes off and removing his coat, and the last thing he felt as he went to sleep, was the feeling of a blanket being pulled over him. And then that was it, Edgar was lost to the realm of dreams, and for once, they were pleasant dreams.

Of course, that was where his luck ran out, because when Edgar woke up the next morning, it was to Mori sitting in the chair beside him, and Edgar regretted waking up immediately.

“I brought breakfast.” Mori gestured towards the tray that was sitting on Edgar’s bedside table; some sort of porridge looking meal that wasn’t anything like what Edgar had eaten before. If porridge had a class system then this would no doubt be ‘poor porridge.’

But with one look from Mori, Edgar picked up the bowl and began to eat. “Thank you. But… uh, why are you bringing me breakfast?”

“Because Ranpo decided to exert himself yesterday and woke up unable to breath properly this morning. Fukuzawa’s watching over him, so I volunteered to bring you breakfast instead.” Mori shrugged, as if it Ranpo struggling to breath wasn’t a serious problem, but rather, an everyday issue. Actually… it probably is now that I think about it. Edgar thought, because he remembered the way that Fukuzawa and Mori had been worried about Ranpo that day Edgar had helped him, but not panicked.

“Oh.”

“Besides, it also gives me the chance to talk to you.” Mori went on to say, leaning back in his chair to study Edgar carefully. “Fukuzawa told me a little bit of what happened yesterday. Not a lot, because god forbid that man ever tells me the whole story of anything without me having to pull his teeth, but enough to give me some idea as to how you’re feeling.”

“Oh.”

Mori sighed. “Perhaps you could say something other than oh?”

What is it that you want me to say? Edgar wanted to cry out, but refrained from doing so in favour of eating more of his lumpy porridge, which was as tasteless as it looked, but again, he wasn’t going to say anything. And he didn’t really know what else to say either, so he just kept quiet and avoided making eye contact. Because unlike Fukuzawa, who was more than content to let Edgar speak when he was ready—within reason of course—Mori was not as lenient, digging and pushing until he was given the answer, regardless of how the person he was questioning felt.

He knew it was just Mori doing his job, and if Edgar was being honest, the man was a great doctor and the questions he asked, while difficult, undoubtedly did more to help. It was just that Edgar was far too broken of a human being to handle those questions easily; it was much easier to ignore or redirect Mori’s attention elsewhere—well, attempt to at least, for it hadn’t really worked in the short time he’d come to know the man.

“Mr Poe.” Mori said after he received no answer to his question. “Allow me to be blunt for a moment?”

Edgar nodded, already preparing himself for the worst question.

“If I were to discharge you, would you attempt to kill yourself again, or not?”

“I…” Edgar hesitated, letting the spoon fall back into the bowl with a small clang. Would he try to die again if he was left alone? The answer was eventually, because while he felt okay now, he knew it wouldn’t take long for him to fall apart and want to die again. The only reason he even felt okay now was because he’d been unconscious for a week, and aside from that first day where he’d had all the time to think about how he’d ended up in the clinic, he hadn’t had much time to think about his situation at all. He hadn’t been left alone long enough to be given the chance to acknowledge the clawing sensation inside of him that was his need for a drink, nor was he given a chance to really, truly, listen to that nagging voice in his head, the one that told him that dying was what was best.

But now that Mori had asked him if he still wished to die, Edgar was more than aware of these feelings that lay inside him, but rather than accept them like he usually did… a small part of him wanted to reject those feelings. Edgar let out a sigh and worried his lip between his teeth as he slowly put the words together. “I… don’t know. Probably, I guess, if I had to be truthful. I’m alone in a big empty house with no one around… so there’s not much for me to do other than die.”

“If that’s the case, then I won’t discharge you.” Mori said matter-of-factly, standing from the chair and crossing his arms. “However, I do need this bed—”

“Then I will leave.” Edgar said, fingers tightening around the bowl. “I have no desire to take up a bed when—ow!” He flinched as Mori whacked him over the head with a… newspaper? Where did that even come from?

Mori’s look was one of annoyance. “If you would let me finish, Mr Poe, I am not throwing you out. The opposite, in fact.”

Edgar raised his head, confused. If he wasn’t being thrown out, then what was going to happen to him?

“Until I deem you fit, you will stay with us and help out.”

On second thought, being thrown out doesn’t sound half-bad.

“Such an interesting look on your face.” Mori hid a smile behind his hand, chuckling at the look of displeasure on Edgar’s face.

Who could blame him really? Ever since he had decided to die, Mori and his strange little put-together family had interfered at every step. First, it had been Ranpo, dragging him away from the bridge with quips and insults that no lower class person would’ve dared to say to a Lord—not that Edgar had been a Lord at that point to begin with. And then it had been Mori and Fukuzawa, butting into business that wasn’t their own in a way that Edgar couldn’t help but give in to; there was just something about the two older men, something that he couldn’t quite understand, a kind of gentleness that said they understood the pain he was going through, but didn’t quite know how to help.

And Edgar just didn’t know how to handle it.

“I do not wish to inconvenience you and your family.” Edgar said.

“I would not have suggested it if it was an inconvenience.” Mori countered. “It will not be as simple as you think, for as you have seen, we do not have much space. You will help out, and you will work, and in exchange we will feed you and provide a place to sleep.”

“Why though? Why go to so much effort for me?”

“Because, Mr Poe.” Mori crouched before the bed and lifted his head to meet Edgar’s eyes. “We once lost someone to the very illness that plagues you, and call it selfish of us, but if we can prevent someone else from following that path, we will do everything we can to help.”

The words hit Edgar hard, and he wanted to turn away from the raw emotion in Mori’s voice, the kind that came from losing someone you cared about deeply, but he couldn’t. All he could do was stare back at Mori as the silence grew between the two of them. He tried to think of something to say, anything to say, but there was nothing, like all the words had been stolen from within him. He could feel his mouth open and close over and over as he tried to think.

But there was nothing.

He could offer condolences, he could offer apologies, but what good would they do in the end? The loss had already happened, long before Edgar had ever known of the man in front of him. Besides, what good would words do from him of all people? Edgar realized in that moment, just how painful of a reminder he must’ve been to Mori; how painful it must’ve been for the doctor to offer his help, only for Edgar to reject it again and again, to watch him try to die again and again.

He didn’t know how Mori had the strength.

He didn’t know how any of them had the strength.

And it was that lack of knowledge that gave him strength.

He reached out and rested his hand on top of Mori’s head, smiling when the doctor’s eyes went wide. “Okay. I’ll—I’ll give it a try. Just… don’t expect much from me…”

Mori chuckled, and climbed to his feet. “Don’t worry, we have no expectations.”

Somehow, despite the insulting nature of Mori’s words, all they did was make Edgar feel warm inside.

It was nice, to have no expectations placed upon him for once in his life.

[valiantwarriorsquadroncomic]

MISSION 8

The HCA private meeting room was dead silent as Fritz prepared to come clean with his love and acceptance that Joseph’s heart belonged to another. Even as he was surrounded by beautiful Propseran wildlife on the covert Prosperan base, it did nothing to curtail his nervousness. He was dressed to the nines in his HCA military uniform. He paced the well furnished wooden floors, his boots thumping with each step as his heart mirrored its frenzied pace. The thump was met with a cacophony of jingles from his slew of new medals. “Please lord, grant me strength to be forthright.” He plead as he came to stop. He felt his PDA ring, the caller I.D. reading DER CHANCELLOR, prompting him to pick it up. “Yes, father?” he asked with a trembling voice.

“Are you meeting him as you planned?”

“Jawhol, he should be arriving any minute.”

“Don’t be nervous, you should be happy you’re putting this entire thing to rest.” Fritz’s breathing calmed. “We are on the eve of a tragic, devastating war.” The young monster man could hear footsteps. “Relationship nonsense and pining serves no purpose on the battlefield.” The door creaked open. “You’ll find someone right for you, do me proud.” Chancellor Kramer hung up as Fritz’s bat-like ears shot upwards like an alerted dog, quickly turning to face the visitor. There, joseph was gently closing the door. He too was dressed in a fancy uniform and stitched hat. His own medals were pinned to the left jacket pocket. “Thank goodness, I was starting to get a bit perplexed that you wouldn’t find the room.” Fritz said with a relieved sigh.

“Nah dude.” Said joseph. “Everyone in the base was pretty excited to help me.” Fritz brushed himself off.

“Ahem, first of all, I would like to congratulate you on your promotion from private to 2nd lieutenant!”

“Thanks.” Said Joseph. The scarred man noticed a small model kit next to a bouquet of beautiful black roses. “Is that a fucking BIO-MENACE ALICE kit?!” he said with wide eyes. “You can’t get that model anymore without paying out the ass!” Fritz nodded as he cleared his throat.

“Indeed.” Squeaked Fritz, his face becoming sweaty and throat dry. “I was going to surprise you with it when I was going to confess my love to you.” Joseph’s wonder turned to quiet neutrality. “However, I am aware that your heart belongs to another.” Joseph rubbed is chin.

“I had a feeling you had a crush on me.”

“Pray tell, Was I that transparent?”

“Your face turned like, blood red when you told me about the Propseran president a while ago.” Joseph concluded. “Not sure how you found out, but yeah.” Once he started to smile, Fritz relaxed his posture. “Logan and I have been making sure to keep our relationship on the down-low.”

“I understand,it is very a dangerous thing when a man who loves another man like a woman to be transparent about himself.” Fritz answered. “I am very much in the same boat as you, my dearest friend.” Fritz’s eyes went from orange to pale yellow. “He’s a fantastic man.” Fritz pulled out a protected piece of paper, with several drawing scrawled on it. The sketches consisted a stylized cartoon deer, something that would’ve appeared on the screen of a high budget animated children’s film. The sleek, 4 legged black deer had two scars running from the eyebrow down to the side of the face. “I’m astounded by your lover’s draftsmanship, I paid him 200 USD for this page, it was worth every single cent.” The tension of the room lessened as Joseph was elated to hear fritz sing of his boyfriend’s praises. “He even got angry look you give people right.” Joseph tensed back up.

“What look?” Joseph said, suddenly defensive. He face contorted in a wide eyed scowl, and Fritz looked down to the cartoon deer making the same expression, and almost broke out into a chuckle. The giant bat-like man regained his composure, and offered the gifts to Joseph. “I still hope that we can be friends.” Joseph looked down at the rare kit and the roses, only to notice a small note inserted within the box. He gently placed the roses to the side and pulled out the piece of paper.

“That was supposed to be for Logan.” Stated Fritz, nervously wringing his hands. Joseph slowly opened the paper to a beautifully written note written in flowery cursive. “GIVE HIM THE LIGHT AND JOY I COULD NEVER PROVIDE.” Read the words carefully written on the paper.

“Of course we’re still pals.” Answered Joseph. “It took a lot of guts to admit this to me face to face.” Fritz began to tear up and enveloped Joseph in a passionate hug, his friend reciprocating the gesture. Though Fritz’s heart was broken, it was broken in a way that could be easily mended. Fritz felt his PDA vibrate, and quickly checked it while trying to keep the device in his pocket. His eyes widened at a small alarm icon in the top of its screen. “Pardon me, I must attend to something.” The young bat-like man took off like a rocket, dashing into an unknown location. He only stopped when he ran into an unfamiliar monster woman. She grabbed him in an accidental hug, pressing him against her large, and plump stomach.

“Whoa, DUDE!” she yelled in a French accent, gently putting him back down. “If you ran any faster, I might’ve sent ya flying!” she laughed giving her stomach a loud slap. Fritz blushed at her tight khaki combat armor that wrapped around muscles.it hugged her large bust and even larger belly, which pressed gently against her belt. “I’m lookin’ for a guy called Joseph, did you see him?” Fritz shook out of his love-sickness and gestured his friend to leave the room. “Great!” she said, extending her hand to his. He began to gently reach out, only for her to vigorously shake his. “You can call me Faye, or CELTFOX! She exclaimed. Fritz waved his friend good-bye as he sped off to attend the emergency he was called to.

“God damn you, Schmidt.” He whispered in his mind. “It’s the ONLY reason father could be contacting me at this time.” Faye watched Fritz vanish into a crowd of people. “I’ll meet up with you later!” he called out. Faye tilted her head, her chubby cheeks also growing flush. She forgotten the last time anyone looked at her romantically.

“Anyway, I was told you’re gonna escort me to a network problem you guys have been having.” She said, looming over Joseph. He noticed the Khaki uniform.

“You’re from QM?” he inquired.

“Yep!” she said,putting her hands on her hips. “I’m E-12’s military IT specialist!” Her prideful stance turned into confusion as Joseph didn’t seem to react to her. “Not sure if anyone told you, but I’m gonna be working alongside you and your pals for bit, so ya better get used seeing my ugly mug!” Joseph’s scars flared and pulsated as he began to since a familiar presence. Faye jumped back with a grimace at Joseph’s condition. He locked eyes with none other than Captain Ackerman, being tailed by dozens of ERASURE UNIT soldiers with Laleh in tow. She was now donning a set of new, futuristic looking armor that seemed to allow her to keep up the pace with the rest of the human soldiers.

“Good, Nathan’s little lackeys that ain’t in the HCA are all here.” He said in a gruff voice. The captain turned to faye. “I understand you commies have no sense of punctuality or duty, but here, you obey the DAMN RULES and STAY when I tell you to.” Joseph’s brow furrowed until Faye rubbed her hand behind her head, looking sheepish.

“Aw, geeze!” she said apologetically. “Sorry about that, just excited to help out finding our guy!” She grabbed Joseph by the hand and trotted him towards the group with a big, warm smile on her face.

“Let it go, captain.” Said Ackerman’s 2nd in command. “She’s just some ditz, she didn’t mean anything.” He pointed towards an elevator in the middle of the hallway. “We gotta escort this guy to a debriefing room, then we’ll take her to fix our internet thing.” Joseph jumped back when he saw the man in question. He was wrapped in bloodied combat armor and a hooded shirt. His face was wrapped in a cloth, with only a single eye exposed. What made Joseph terrified were the three tentacles that snaked behind him, flashbacks of him and his comrades near fatal combat with N.1685 were fresh in his mind.

“I understand your concern at my appearance.” Said the hooded man. “That run in with that vile man must have had some lasting impact on you.” Joseph’s guard lessened as Ackerman’s frustration grew. “You may call me Samson.”

“No more fucking around, we have shit to do.” Ackerman ordered. The large crowd of people piled into the elevator. Faye had some trouble squeezing herself through the malfunctioning door.

“Please, allow me.” Said Samson as his tendrils unfurled and gently pressed against Faye’s exposed back and shoulders. After some more squeezing and struggling, Faye joined the rest of the party. The elevator rang out with a garbled buzzing noise as it rose to its destination. Laleh and Joseph sat in the back of the room with Faye and Samson as the ERASURE UNIT soldiers hung in the front, tightly gripping their assault rifles. Ackerman would occasionally glance back at Joseph and Laleh, and the verbal berating he got from after their last run in. Laleh would tend to another wound on Samson’s arm.

“That’s looks pretty serious.” Said joseph. “Are you sure it’s not infected?”

“Not to worry, I have made sure he and the rest received proper antibiotics and treatment.” Answered Laleh gently as she used a small pair of medical scissors to cut through the thick adhesive wrapping.

“Yeah, I saw those wounded POWS as I tried to find your buddy, like just about every available medic was trying to patch them back up.” Piped up Faye, moving closer to the two and unknowingly pressing her large stomach into Joseph. “Whoops.” She said, backing off slightly. “Didn’t mean to squish you.” She gave a sad look before becoming alarmed at Joseph’s concern before trying to brush off her suddenly unhappy demeanor. “Even after years of rehab, I’m trying to get used to my body again.”

“Alas, I know that feeling all too well.” Said Samson as he seemed to struggle to close his fingers. He looked up to Ackerman, whose back was turned to the rest of the outcast super soldiers. “Am I allowed to inform them of what happened?”

“You can tell ‘em how you got captured and how you freed yourself, and nothing else.” He replied. Faye’s demeanor sharpened into a subtle, piercing glare.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to tell them that America’s secret little army almost shot one of those poor survivors while violating the coalition’s own intervention restrictions.” She scowled internally. Her demeanor softened as one of the Erasure unit soldiers looked back at her. “I can’t yell you how many shirts, pants and belts I accidentally destroyed after I got experimented and rescued from one of the ALA’s camps!” she guffawed as she flexed her muscles.

“I was doing missionary work in eastern Prospera, we were aiding isolated communities and were given the blessing of Prospera’s Catholic Church to ease the suffering of the poor.” Said Samson. “We were suddenly attacked by a group of ALA mercenaries units, and 30 of us were rounded up and sent to one of their camps.” He gripped his right arm, and mustered the courage to continue. Faye gazed with sincere empathy at the man, her goofy expression becoming sorrowful. “With the war in Prospera lost, we were used to see if they could mass produce a new strain of mass produced abominations, the NEMERTEAN abominations.” Samson lessened his grip. “The experiment was mostly a failure.” Samson sighed. “Those with a fatal reaction to the injections and treatment were tossed into a pit to die, and the rest of us were used as slave labor.” He began to shake, recounting the suffering. “We were surrounded by armed guards and cameras in the middle of nowhere.”

“How awful.” Said laleh. “How on earth did you escape?” Samson grabbed a crucifix necklace around his neck.

“There was a priest from separate missionary that was basically ordered to “manage and monitor” our condition.” Samson turned the crucifix to himself, observing the crucified Jesus sculpted into the cross. “He observed our transformations, spared only because the manager of the ALA experimentation camp was also a practicing Christian.” The crucifix wound and unwound, the white skull painted on the symbol flashed underneath the buzzing ceiling lights. “The priest would sneak food and medicine to us, even cutting his own rations to feed the younger prisoners.” He stopped spinning the crucifix and once again struggled to form a fist once more. “An ALA spy found out that he was going to warn us of an upcoming extermination plot against us.” Joseph looked down at his own iron cross medal in sadness. “I…was the one to hear his last words and testament…he begged me to tell the others, to fight back, to be as Moses as he freed god’s chosen from the Pharaoh.”

“Wrap it up, you’re almost out your location.” Spat Ackerman. Laleh and joseph shot him an ugly angry look, prompting them to panic and turn his back on them, trying to downplay his terror.

“I rushed back to our barracks and told them we needed to fight or die.” “While not on the level of the other abominations, we were able to at least make a break away from the camp.” “10 of us are with Christ now, the rest are in critical condition.” The elevator buzzed again as the door opened. Before a detachment of ERASURE UNIT soldiers marched him down a run down, rusty room, he thanked Laleh. “We are very blessed to have a doctor like you aid us and hear of our woes.”

“We are getting more medical staff to assist your comrades, I assure you.” She replied in a gentle tone. “We’ve just been spread so thin from recent casualties.” Joseph’s heart sank to hear how victims of war were in need of aid but unable to get it.

“It isn’t your fault, my sister.” He said before being removed from the elevator and marched down a different hallway. “You can still pray for our recovery and keep us in your thoughts, that’s all I ask.” Joseph and the rest of the crowd were marched into the hallway that red “SERVER ROOM, AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY” the ERASURE UNIT soldiers unlocked the door, prompting Ackerman to point Joseph and Laleh to proceed before Faye. The large pink haired monster woman squeezed again into a door that was too small for her and brought her laptop and tools in front a a large, black monolith in the dead center of the room. Her ditzy demeanor betrayed her knowledge as she easily popped open a panel and began tinkering with its wiring. As she went to plug in her laptop, Ackerman’s co captain blew a loud whistle, frighting her.

“What did I do wrong this TIME?!” she barked.

“Ma’am, your laptop needs to be scanned for any malware, viruses, spyware, and anything that could harm the system.” She relented and let him jam a usb port into her laptop. 15 seconds later, a window popped up with a black screen, lines and lines of indecipherable coding blazed in an instant. The window was replaced with a giant green checkmark before vanishing. “Alright, go ahead and work your magic.” Faye plugged her laptop and finished her work. Despite her outburst, her mood lightened as fixed the various problems within the system. She hummed to herself, and even gently swayed her hips rhythmically to her own beat. The black monolith was now blinking with a blue and green light. Without a word, the ERASURE UNIT marched the trio out to an HCA BRIEFING ROOM. Nathan was already there, with Fritz and Veronica talking to themselves in hushed, panicked whispers in German. Joseph and Laleh sat next to their captain while Faye strolled next to Veronica. She looked down at the chair pensively before slowly sitting down. The chair creaked under her large weight before settling. She breathed a sigh of relief as she sat up and twiddled with her pda. Fritz paid no attention to her as he continued conversing with his sister. Nathan spoke up brought down a large TV screen.

“I’m glad everyone is here, I got some bad news.” Everyone paid attention, even the two Gaertner siblings took notice, their faces pale and gaunt. “Schmidt has escaped the Villa.”

“Holy shit.” Said Joseph. “Right before we were supposed to attack.” Nathan flicked to footage of a Victorian style mansion in the midst of a jungle. The two Gaertner sibling’s heart dropped as footage showed the flag being flown next to the mansion. It wasn’t the usual ALA swastika, but a near perfect recreation of Nazi Germany’s flag as it billowed on the breeze amidst the chaos of CNGS and QM units fighting to apprehend Schmidt. Suddenly, a giant mechanized suit of armor burst from the villa, its enormous jets propelled it into the atmosphere as it was followed by several large black jets.

“Apparently, we weren’t the only one developing heavy mechanized bipedal weapons.” He said, switching the TV another slide. “Faye, did you agree to the TOS when you arrived here?” She looked up and nodded.

“You can force me to shut my mouth, but you sure as hell can’t make me happy with it.” She thought indignantly.

There was no further elaboration between the two before Nathan began. “As I promised I’d tell you, Joseph, WNM6 is a secret white supremacist organization that is in charge of managing the ALA and ALA high command.” The room went quiet, the two Gaertner siblings nervously eying each other. “They’re the shattered remnants of Nazi German military and government stooges that fled justice in 1945. He clicked one a black and white photo of of a white man in a business suit. “This guy’s name is FREDERICK MUELLER, he was a rich industrialist who basically threw money and property at Hitler’s secret research and development project, and funded WNM6’s escape.” Faye did her best to keep quiet. “They have popped up throughout history, attempting to gain power and wealth for their white supremacist agenda.” Fritz and Veronica looked away in shame. “They’ve fled and consolidated wealth and power in South America, South Africa, Canada, Australia, the United States, New Zealand and even Japan as well as being active in Europe.” Nathan’s tone became more grave with the mention of Japan, a bead of sweat trickled down his brow. He clicked to a black and white photo of an SS officer with a shaved head and a blind eye with a scientist who held a clipboard while dressed in a stitched up surgical guard and some form of mask. “We believe this guy is Peter Hoffman, the Nazi military officer who organized the escape. Joseph clenched his fist in anger.“One hundred years ago, the abomination program was birthed in Nazi laboratories and their eugenics experiments, they fled Germany with the blueprints, and now the lunatics are using modern science to actually make their crackpot dreams a reality.” The room was so quiet, a pin drop could be heard.

“So these Nazi FREAKS have been just… running around in the shadows, ruining lives and killing innocent people for just about a 100 god damn years.” he spat out bitterly. Faye looked to the side and rubbed the back of her head sadly, as if she wanted to say so much more about the shocking revelations.

"Unfortunately" Sighed Nathan, "you're 100 percent right". He wiped the sweat off his face. "They've funded and controlled dozens of Neo Nazi terrorist groups and secret societies since the mid 20th century, and not even intelligence can pinpoint their exact bodycount.

“The pricks just don’t know when to lay down and die.” Said veronica with a scowl. “Like a bunch of roaches.” Nathan clicked to a photo of two abominations in light and dark brown camo. The two were almost posing with the bodies of dead, mutilated CNGS-USA soldiers. The poltergeist abomination held a spray can, appearing to have recently vandalized the CNGS symbol with SS bolts and the abbreviations “WS”. Laleh gasped as she covered her mouth in horror, unable to even speak. Her large, catlike eyes bulged out of her skull at the carnage

“Now their South African branch, the WHITE SOVEREIGNS are gaining more influence in WNM6, pushing to be on the offensive and raiding CNGS bases for chemicals and biological materials.” He clicked again to show two abominations holding 3 mangled corpses of CNGS soldiers “These unhinged raids are due to them pushing for more production of ABOMINATION soldiers as a last ditch effort to pursue their agenda.”

“Clearly because they’re also slowly becoming destitute an unable to produce or purchase their materials within their organization.” Stated Fritz. “The white sovereigns are considered the maddest of the mad, the most vile, and most violent of the ALA factions.” He looked at Nathan. “If they’re in charge…will this culminate in them taking even more deadly, drastic measures for their hopeless, aryan pipe dream?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it.” Answered his captain. “These WNM6 bastards are about 8 years away from going bankrupt they way they’re losing money, but there’s a lot of damage they could do over 8 years.” Everyone stared again at the white sovereign operatives. “There’s rumors about plenty of fights and debate within WNM6 over the white sovereigns over who gets to call the shots.” He clicked a button on a remote. “What makes them a pain in the ass is that between their bloodlust, they actually give a shit about taking action.”

“So, they were the guys that ordered the target to evacuate.” Joseph deduced.

“Exactly, they demanded the ALA in Prospera rescue Schmidt and take him to god knows else, and the reason you all will be leaving this island immediately.” With another click, he showed a giant, Grey submarine. “We got the audio sent from a QM spy that’s infiltrated the submarine that WNM6 owns and uses to covertly communicate about crap they want to keep quiet about.” Everyone quietly observed the words “WEHRWOLF-V10” painted near the tail. “We believe these are only ONE of WNM6’s submarines where they shelter their leaders and other important, high ranking officers.” Faye shifted in her seat, typing something in her PDA as Nathan played audio of an older, European man in a grave tone;

“So we are in accord of our next plan of action.” Joseph sat in silence, processing the dire situation. “ARACHNEA has been slaughtered, APOTHECARY has sold us out, and we have lost Prospera proper.” Faye put down her PDA and listened intently.” “Inform all units to either flee the country or flee into the red zones and black zones.” The final sentenced sounded garbled and warped. “We shall NOT lose SCHMIDT, and we shall NOT lose VELEDOVIA.” The audio cut off with a screeching noise.

“I guess that’s one thing the coalition and WNM6 can agree on, not wanting to lose another piece of property to exploit.” Faye thought as she gazed towards Joseph and Laleh.

“I guess WNM6 must be loaded to afford this shit.” Remarked Joseph.

“The bastards have sympathizers with deep pockets in the arms and banking industry.” Nathan said. “That’s all I can say for right now, but I gotta wrap this up.” He pressed another button on the remote. “West and East Veledovia are two eastern European countries that have suffered from a big problem.” Nathan said as he clicked a remote on the screen. A country straddling Germany and the Czech repulbic appeared, bisected by a green line. The Western side yellow, while the eastern side blue. The southern part of both countries were covered in a strip of red. As nathan clicked a again, red arrows began pointing upwards from the south, and the red color began to spread upwards. “In 2035, a far right ethno-nationalist part called the True Veledovian Nationalists overthrew the West Veledovian government and started a war against its eastern neighbor.”

“Not gonna tell them those fascists capitalized on an anti immigration law put in place by the coalition back when it was called the Global Security Union, huh.” Faye pondered internally once more. “God, you poor people don’t even have a clue that the CNGS was going to invade AVN occupied territory through East Veledovia to expand its consolation prize.”

“The starvation war, if I am not mistaken, Kapitan.” Spoke fritz.

“Exactly.” Nathan answered. “It made the 3rd Prosperan Civil War look like a damn picnic.” He flitted to images of destroyed cities, and civilians digging through rubble. “More civvies died than soldiers” Fritz once again shifted in his seat. “After TVN lost, they fled to the southern VSERIOAS mountain range to regroup, and renamed themselves the ARYAN VELEDOVIAN NATIONALISTS.” He clicked to an image of soldiers in rugged mountain territory. “The bastards have fortified the landscape with anti aircraft,long range missiles, and god only knows what else.”

“That mountain range was already considered a death trap before the war.” Fritz said. “I imagine our counter-operations won’t be easy to accomplish, the other Europa’s Fury factions must be flooding the south with soldiers and weapons.”

“It’s worse than that.” Answered Nathan, clicking the mouse again. Everyone’s eyes widened as the image loaded. Meanwhile, within the Prosperan Capital, The Prosperan president, Juan Hidalgo was having his own dire meeting. Alongside his cabinet was Mrs.Q and several other QM representatives.

“With the help of our newly joined independent allies from Scandinavia and Central Asia, you can see that we can start construction with 3 weeks after insuring the flow of American ALA operatives has been curtailed.” Said the head of civil construction and public services. Presidente Juan smiled and nodded.

“You’re the expert, so you have my blessings to move forward.” He said with a hearty chuckle. “I don’t know the first damn thing about construction outside of the fire pit I made last week!” several cabinet members broken into lighthearted laughter at their president’s response. Mrs Q. Stood up to speak;

“In my personal opinion however, it is not your responsibility to deal with this problem.” She clicked on her laptop, producing an online article of a white man in a baseball cap, a blue shirt and black jeans holding a piece of wood like a guitar and jokingly strumming it. “HUSBAND AND FATHER OF 2 VANISHED FROM SEATTLE, WAS A VOLUNTEER FOR AMERICAN NEO NAZI TERRORIST GROUP ALA. FOUND DEAD IN PROSPERA.” She cleared her throat. “The United States has done little to curtail its own problem of Neo Nazi radicalization, and we need to bring that up in our next meeting.”

“Excellent point, Senora.” Replied Juan, swiftly trying to change the subject as the other cabinet members were annoyed with the presence of the socialist woman. “The other order of business, is to improve our welfare system.” He said, his smile lessening, almost wavering into a frown. He brought up a slide from the EL DIA BUENO, the biggest news outlet in Prospera. The most recent article had been uploaded, displaying a man pointing at a street corner while concerned citizens tried to break him out of a trance. The article was titled “DESPERATION WAR SURVIVOR, NOW RESTAURATEUR, STUMBLES UPON THE PLACE WHERE HE ALMOST DIED AFTER BEING CAUGHT UP IN GUSTAVIST AMBUSH. GOES CATATONIC AND UNRESPONSIVE FOR 3 MINUTES.” Presidente Juan cleared his throat. “We’ve done well to clean up after the desperation war, but the scars are still here, and our job isn’t done yet.” He wiped the sweat off his face. “Our citizens were dying, now they’re just struggling.” He peered at Mrs.Q who smiled and gave a slight nod. He nodded back and brought up a large paper folder, clearing his throat. “The first order of business is to funnel more tax money into welfa-” Before he could continue, several armed HCA agents burst into the room. Several Prosperan politicians shot up from their seat in violent anger. One of the agents pointed at Juan and Mrs.q.

“You two are needed to discuss an emergency regarding the Independent league.” Said a tall HCA agent.

“This is an OUTRAGE!” yelled the vice president. “You can’t barge in here and barking orders!” Juan held up his hand.

“It’s alright,senora.” He gave another disarming smile to the intruders. “I leave you to discuss my welfare reform, this is an emergency that clearly needs our attention.” He nodded to the rest of his cabinet with a disarming smile as he and the QM ambassador were led away from the meeting. “This nonsense almost makes me wish I was back managing some backwoods town as the mayor.” He monologued bitterly. The two walked across a connecting hallway with several large laser censors littering the area. Gustavo glanced at censors with a defeated look. “Feels like they’re almost scared that I’ll flee my cage.” The HCA’s heraldry, and its eagle hung over the sentry points and were sprayed on the walls. Everywhere they looked, a constant reminder of WHO funded the fixing of their building. The HCA symbol that Juan and Mrs.Q passed appeared to have glowing red eyes, two small video cameras clicked as they followed the two’s every move. Mrs.Q rubbed her temples over the abrupt, borderline abduction.

“You were a good choice to lead this country.” Said the HCA agent in a deep voice. “You have a disarming…visage…so to speak.

“Oh…thank you!” “I’m flattered!” Answered Gustavo. “I’m very well aware people don’t treat me like a threat because I’m fat, thanks.” He thought as his fake smile almost broke. He decided to not mouth off as he was intimidated by his large, muscular, super human presence and his horned helmet.

“I know how you felt.” Said Mrs. Q. “Being jutted around like some puppet for the whims of others.”

“Hope your bosses don’t scream at you ending the meeting early, senora.” The two made their way to a decontamination chamber where the two were sprayed down with a clear fluid. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

“I’ve let them know multiple times that independent jurisdiction doesn’t operate on QM’s time…even though we’re probably more trustworthy allies to them. She responded as she saw the HCA guard soldiers stand motionless, their faces covered by masks. “I’m lucky that my superiors are in good spirits.” Said Mrs.Q. “After our forces captured several of Gustavo’s personal lackeys, the leader of the United Prospera Worker’s Party has agreed to be absorbed into QM, with all 500 operatives, including 375 soldiers. Juan’s eyes widened.

“Dios mio.” He whispered. She smiled.

“Catherine went to visit him and his enclave in the Golden Mountains in East Prospera.” The Decontamination room was bathed in a green light and prepared to open. “The leader, Rudolfo throw her arms around her in sheer joy, and praised her and QM for having captured the man who allowed Gustavo to terrorize neurodivergent propserans.” The two exited the room. “He didn’t even care that Gustavo would be subjected to the prison-industrial complex, his little brother was avenged and he now sees us as heroes.”

“I could imagine.” Said Juan. “I heard the entire reason he joined that communist guerrilla group was that the state failed to stop Gustavo’s secret police from rounding up autistic citizens.” The prosperan president sighed sadly. “Just about anyone would resort to violence if their family were killed by the state for being different.” Juan observed the refurbished base, filled with HCA soldiers, the walls painted with their flag just about everywhere visible. To him, it felt like he was being reminded of who foot the bill for the renovations, and to remind him that he was under their influence. Mrs.Q and Juan arrived at HCA platoon sent to fetch them.

“Other leftist groups have agreed to be absorbed after our recent and spectacular successes.” She rubbed her temples with her hands, fighting off a burgeoning headache. I’m not looking forward to my next meeting discussing more resistance from other Marxist groups who aren’t too eager to join our cause.” She sighed. “Then I have to act as mediator for the Veledovian Socialist union as rework the terms of our alliance as we prep a counter attack against the ALA in their OWN country.”

The two were escorted to an HCA aircraft that was also shaped like a bat. Its occupants were large, monstrous, and muscular like their escort. One of the monstrous soldiers with a chubby body welcomed the two with open arms, and bowed. She dismissed the agents as the two boarded.

“Don’t let them get to you.” Said the large woman. “They treat me like shit for being big, too.” Back at the independent base, the file finally loaded after several screens and clearances. Everyone but Faye gasped as they saw the image of a giant stealth bomber at a mountain base covered in ALA flags and iconography. The bomber was heavily damaged, its wing nearly stripped of its armor.

“This new bomber created by the AVN had been wreaking havoc on Coalition held territory and Independent bases.” Nathan explained. “As well as QM held territory at the borderlands. Faye nodded as he continued. “That thing got struck with HCA fighter aircraft, CNGS missiles, and QM jets and it wouldn’t fucking go down.” The VWS’s captain began to lose any sort of joviality as he continued. “We lost a a bunch of good people trying stop this thing.”

“Such a shameful and warped mentality.” Said Laleh sadly, glancing at the bomber. “WNM6 has access to so much groundbreaking science and technology, bordering on miraculous.” She looked down and shook her head. “They could’ve used their advancements to help the world, and they only want to use it to save themselves and enact violence and atrocities to people wouldn’t survive their twisted white supremacist standards.”

“How much longer do we got while it’s grounded for repairs?” asked Veronica, her hands trembling.

“If QM spies are correct, we have about two weeks, and those Nazi pricks are reinforcing the area fast.” Nathan clicked on the same mountain base, anti aircraft guns and missiles were being installed, many of them had the flag of Nazi Germany and German writing slathered on each vehicle. The Gaertner siblings were at their lowest as they read off the graffiti, from proclamations of “HEIL THE NEW FUHRER, DEATH TO TOLERANCE, and a slew of racial slurs that were at least hastily blurred out. Several Neo Prussian commanders were performing a nazi salute as their soldiers marched to a transportation helicopter, all wearing an HCA medal. "The worst news is that they've got even MORE of these superweapons in south veledovia." Fritz clenched both of his fists. "I guess that's why they were able to hold onto their occupied areas so easi-"

"That explains PRECISELY how they're able to occupy their territory with such little manpower.” "Fritz said with a heavy heart, banging his fist on the table. Faye noted Fritz's knowledge on the AVN's soldiers, and the tears in his eyes. “They know DAMN WELL what they’re doing, embracing a horrific sin from the vaterland’s past.” Veronica quietly laid her hand over his.

“It’s not YOUR sole responsibility to exterminate these freaks, it’s not your cross to bear alone.”

“You saw those medals, too, didn’t you?” Said Fritz. Veronica’s expression dimmed, knowing exactly what he was talking about. Unbeknownst to their CNGS counterparts, several Neo Prussia commanders were HCA nobility or HCA soldiers were shown in the series of images. Joseph chose not to pry into the clearly painful matter that war harming them both. Veronica stiffened, and flexed with a clenched fist.

“You gotta get it together, it’s OUR duty to cut down the followers of that fascist madman that brought ruin to the vaterland and started a devastating, tragic war.”

“You are correct, dearest sister.” Fritz answered. “I apologize for my behavior captain, please continue.”

“No problem, we’re almost done.” Nathan said as he clicked to one last photo to a mountain base bordering on Independent Germany and CNGS Poland, and right above Independent Czech Republic. “We’ll be transferred to CNGS autonomous region MOUNT UNITY were we’ll regroup with our allies and formulate a plan of attack.” He clicked a button a remote, allowing the TV to ascend back into the ceiling. “Our only saving grace is that QM’s spy network are actively sabotaging repairs, so prepare for an evacuation off base.” Nathan properly shut down the room and accompanied everyone to the RISENFLEDERMAUS. “Then we’ll prepare the raid in West Veledovia using its subway tunnels, and make a break for QM held territory to escape. Joseph attempted to speak up, the glut of European politics thrown around caused him to feel insignificant.

“Feels like I barely even knew about Prospera for all the time we were in it.” Joseph said as the gang got closer to the airfield.

“Technically, it’s no longer our problem now that Propsera’s independent and the ALA here fucked themselves over trying to keep it.” He waved down the HCA staff members of their departure as they finished refueling and cleaning the giant bat-like jet. “We were part of a counter-insurgency operation, and it’s got nothing on what we’re about to face.” The VWS-1 and Faye stood quiet for a moment. “This is flatout war.” A chill ran up everyone’s spine upon Nathan’s words. A single week later, Joseph and the other would be relocated to MOUNT UNITY. Meanwhile AVN occupied Veledovia, RM II and RM III were loading several white, American soldiers dressed in completely black camo and vests into a large military helicopter. Several CNGS-USA bureaucrats were among the POWS who were being funneled into a helicopter as other mercenaries held them at gunpoint. RM III was distracted by the rings and jewelry stolen off the soldiers and the corpses of their fallen comrades.

“Pretty sad that those VWS-1 tools aren’t here to save you.” He taunted as he observed the wedding ring he stole off the bureaucrat. “They’re probably stuck on that mountain the coalition annexed from Poland.”

“The CNGS did NOT annex that territory!” the bureaucrat snapped back. “Under Property jurisdiction A-p37, the CNGS went under the proper paperwork and procedures in order to acquire it in LEGAL manner!”

“Oh, please.” Scoffed RM III. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole “autonomous region” projects are just a stepping stone for the coalition to absorb all countries into their sphere of influence.” He tossed the captain’s ring in the air before grabbing it. “The whole “we’re not trying to created a homogenized, international empire” act is getting harder to believe.” His eyes flitted between the soldiers and the bureaucrat. “Heh…looks like you were only evacuating the AMERICAN coalition personnel when the AVN began its offensive.” RM II observed one of the men he captured.

“Not surprised an ODS operative was with you Black saber stooges.” RM II ripped the wire and microphone away away from the operatives shirt. “Usually when they conduct operations, they usually have a “field adviser” deployed with them to ensure they’re conducting the mission right and keep them on target.” The operative said nothing as he glared at the mercenary and his skull shaped helmet. Back in the day, we used to call ‘em “Moron wranglers.”

“I ain’t giving you lick of intel, you dirty traitor.” Growled the ODS operative. RM II affixed his bayonet to his carbine and jammed inches away from the operatives face.

“I assure you, I’ll wring every bit of info from you.” The operative began to sweat and recoil in fear. “Then I’ll send what’s left of you back to Washington DC to the director and the rest of your incompetent agents.” The operative was dragged off by the mercenaries when RM III got impatient.

“We’re leaving now, right?” asked the brash young man.

“Not a chance.” RM III answered. Uulastiv city is flooded with heavy arms courtesy of these clowns, and they’re ripe for the taking and reselling on the black market.”

“Hey grandpa, you’re going senile.” Said RM III. “The AVN is gonna shell that shithole to the ground soon with artillery, I don’t feel like getting reduced to a red smear on some homeless man’s shack.” RM II walked up to his young counterpart and slapped him across the face.

“You’ve got some NERVE questioning me and my intel, you little parasite.” Sneered RM II. “The AVN doesn’t give a damn about that rat’s nest, and there’s still plenty of CNGS weapons and ammunition those BLACK SABER morons left for the resistance.” RM III rubbed his face, however instead of relenting, he appeared simply tired. RM II’s face turned bright red behind his skull-like mask. “That’s what I despise about young people nowadays, you don’t know what LOYALTY or DISCIPLINE is.” He kicked over a brief case he raided from two relief workers he abducted, then pointed at the distant city. “We’re GOING to UULASTIV, god so help IF I have to ASK AGAIN, I’LL-” No sooner did RM II try to finish his sentence that artillery fire screamed across the sky and blew apart the city. RM II gazed quietly as thunderous booms and flames engulfed their would be destination. RM III had a blank, unimpressed look on his face. RM II threw RM III into the ground. “Get your ass to the helicopter.” He said, his rage now restrained. RM III threatened the rest of the POWS with his carbine bayonet. Soon, the helicopter took off as the thundering sounds grew closer as the AVN continued its violent offense. Towards the polish-veledovian border a familiar sign was jammed into the ground. “THIS AREA IS A CNGS AUTONOMOUS PROPERTY, TRESPASSING WILL BE MET WITH SWIFT AND DIRE REPERCUSSIONS.” The mountain was heavily patrolled with CNGS and independent germany personnel, and independent Germany aircraft would occasionally circle the base before returning to duty. Joseph stood in an empty, ancient WW2 era pillbox re-purposed for storing old boxes and plastic bags. He observed the last untouched part of the mountain. A small, ramshackle playground occupied the small clearing. The red, WW1 style fighter plane squeaked as the breeze caused it to vibrate. Its once vibrant, candy apple red now replaced with rust and discoloration from the elements. Laleh stood beside him, the small glints of sunlight reflecting off her new, futuristic armor.

“It’s nice to see you again!” she said cheerfully, scooping up joseph in a warm hug.

“Same to you, sorry if I don’t seemed more hyped.” Said joseph. “It’s kinda hard to be enthusiastic from all the bullshit happening.”

“I know.” Replied Laleh, letting her friend back down. “However, I’ve been allowed to divulge some Intel on my background as a means of establishing trust within the CNGS hierarchy.”

“Sounds like Andrew is throwing me a bone to shut me up.” Joseph said in a snide tone. “All the time I’ve known you, and I don’t really know WHAT you, fritz, veronica, and the other giant soldiers were until the ALA called you guys abominations.”

“You may call us Post-Humans.”

“Right, sorry, post-humans.” Said Joseph, rubbing the back of his head in an apologetic tone. “I know you can’t tell me everything, just whatever you can.”

“From what I am allowed to tell you, I, fritz, and veronica, were all created from the Coalition’s reverse engineering of the abomination soldier program.” Laleh said. “I’ve been so very happy to no longer keep you in the dark about something, even if it is this morbid.” She drummed her gloved hand as she peered further into the distance, where Fritz and Veronica were assisting in setting up a makeshift graveyard near the dilapidated playground.

“I appreciate that.” Said Joseph. “Was it true that you guys came from nazi Germany’s experiments?”

Laleh nodded sadly. “After the abomination program blueprints were transferred from west Germany to the rest of the GSU, they were left to rot in a safe until being reopened in 2010.” She peered nervously at her own PDA. “I was created from in vitro fertilization, and I nearly died from being stillborn.”

“Jesus, I had no idea.” He replied as he joined her side by side to observe the solemn funeral.

“My mother, Professor Mahdavi, was the only one who had hope that I would pull through, and adopted me as her daughter.” In the distance, she observed fritz and veronica aiding the digging of graves, alongside the man with the star of David eye patch, Herschel Wagner and their uncle Johan Fischer. “In a way, the abominations and Homo Centonibus are cut from the same cloth, we’re both Post-Humans birthed from monstrous research committed by eugenicists, but we don’t have to be reduced to weapons or fight each other.” She sighed and became listless.

“Speaking of monsters, that meeting we had yesterday was pretty intense.” Joseph said as he began to fumble with with a pen in his pocket. “That bastard N.1685 is still alive and terrorizing people…it hit me luck a damn truck.”

“I certainly felt the animosity in that room.” Laleh agreed. “Nathan’s been taking it hard, I KNOW he’s blaming himself for N.1685’s escape.” The two uncomfortably recalled being in the MOUNT UNITY strategy room, surrounded by CNGS bureaucrats and military leaders as footage of N.1685’s rampages blared on the giant telecom screen. Images Fritz and veronica’s faces overcome with despair upon seeing the twin abominations ROMULUS and REMUS carve SS bolts into the face of a CSTF pow flashed through Joseph’s mind. Nathan and Macmillian being shut down when trying to elaborate that they had simply no way N.1685 was capable of subterfuge or higher thought. “In that terrible room, it felt like the ghosts of everyone’s failures came back to haunt us.” She twiddled her thumbs as she remembered in the next 8 days, they and their allies would be raiding the mountain base to destroy the stealth bomber. “So much is being dumped on us, and it feels like everyone’s drowning.”

“Now we have to help fight a war, and we don’t know a DAMN thing about how IF they’re even helping civilians evacuate.” His scars pulsated. “I wish there was something I could do outside of fighting the enemy.” Said joseph in a frustrated tone. “I don’t regret killing those nazi pricks, but what about the people they’ve hurt?” his fist clenched in anger as Laleh observed sadly until she had an idea.

“I am aiding several abomination POWS, and I may need help with carrying and applying bandages.” Joseph calmed himself as he heard those words.

“Wouldn’t someone get pissed that someone who’s not a doctor is wrist deep in someone’s wound?”

“As long as you are not diagnosing or applying without supervision of a medical professional,” Said Laleh, trying to be more positive, “you’ll be able to assist with at least some of their problems!” Joseph smiled. “It’ll be wonderful to do something together again, I’ve been so busy with everything going on!”

“Only if it’s okay with you.” Joseph answered as the two made their way out of the door. Laleh peered down at her pda a she received a message. “THE FLOCK OF QUEENS NEEDS ATTENDING AFTER YOUR CURRENT ASSIGNMENT.” As Laleh led Joseph to help provide medical aid, Fritz and veronica were gently lowering hastily built wooden coffins into shallow graves. Herschel dug into the earth , assisting in the final grave, and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Herr Wagner, you didn’t need to come all the way out there to perform manual labor!” Veronica said, her cheery disposition concerning the POWS who were well enough to attend the ramshackle funeral.

“Nonsense, bubbeleh”. He continued. “You two have been busting your keisters gaining the prestige to turn the HCA around!” He carefully climbed out of the grave. “It’s the least we can do to help you out.” Samson quietly placed the decorated coffin of the priest into the hole. The POWS well enough to attend surrounded the coffin to lay flowers and kind hearted notes. He aided one POW, a short, thin 61 year old man with a single arm hobble to the grave. His six eyes and insect like mandibles quivered in sadness as he laid a beautiful purple iris flower on the priest’s coffin. He wiped tears from his eyes as another POW woman, a large abomination like laleh, assisted him back to his seat. Samson took a moment to absorb the somber sight. An HCA priest read out a eulogy as an HCA imam said a prayer for the dead as he visited each freshly filled grave. He saw one of his fellow missionaries, a devout baptist, wept as he was he consoled by an HCA rabbi. Despite not being indicative on his own Christian values, he wouldn’t be ungrateful towards Veronica and Fritz’s aid.

“I thank you for your assistance.” Said Samson as his tentacles grabbed another coffin.

“Think nothing of it.” Said Fritz. “Those with the courage to open their heart to god will not have their plead for aid go unanswered.” Their uncle took a long, hard look at the two rusted spring rides.

“It’s hard to believe I was sitting on that bench watching you two play.” Said Johann. “Now here you two are, sacrificing the last bit of property you had here to give the dead their peace.

“We had to fight like hell to even suggest burying these poor souls.” Veronica said. “Those old farts fight us at every turn, even wanting the stupid flag changed to no longer carry the German empire’s flag has been an uphill battle.” She flailed her arms in the air. “The HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE’S BATTLE STANDARD IS RIGHT HERE!” “WE’RE NOT DISRESPECTING HISTORY, WE CAN RESPECT OUR ANCESTORS WITHOUT WAVING AROUND AN IMAGE WITH A SHITTON OF BAGGAGE ATTACHED TO IT!”

“I also assure you.” Said fritz to Samson. “When we aid in returning mount unity to polish control once more, the bodies of your comrades shall remain here as within a memorial to the victims of the ALA.”

“I have not seen this sort of collaboration with three separate faiths.” Noted Samson.

“You’d be surprised at how similar the three Abrahamic faiths can be.” He wiped his brow as the HCA personnel guard arrived. It was comprised of men from man different countries and ethnicities. “Our country may not push the same unity as the coalition.” Proclaimed fritz “however, a kingdom is nothing without its citizens, and we respect other’s differences.” Samson gently laid the priest’s body into the hole.

“The nightmare I and my people have faced have tried heavily on my faith, I must confess.” The muscular tentacles slowly unraveled themselves from the coffin, which was decorated in the flowers and written notes by the escaped abomination pows. “The neo nazi who all sentenced us to be experimented on and left to fend for ourselves in that ramshackle POWS camp was a Christian and constantly accompanied by a personal priest.” All three of the large, monstrous people covered the grave with freshly dug soil.

“You should all return to your barracks, you all are still in dire need of rest and medical attention.” Said Fritz as the priest gave final last rites to the graves.” “The HCA shall handle the rest.” Samson nodded as he met with the rest of the rescues.

“Let us retire, my flock.” He said in a stalwart tone. “It has been a taxing and arduous day for everyone present, and we must say a prayer for our brothers and sisters who are still in dire condition.” The abominations were escorted by HCA personnel as Johann hobbled to his nephew and niece.

“Your mother was the tie breaker to have these poor souls laid to rest at your territory, and your father had paid for the necessary fines and fees for construction and burial.” He smiled as he put his hand on fritz’s shoulder. “Though they may be preoccupied with their own lives and that backward court, they still watch over you and aid you when they can.”

“They could still do more, though.” Piped on veronica.

“Ooh, all that time in the presence those coalition operatives and that Marxist woman are having a bad effect on your faith in our cause!” He answered in a graver tone. “The bible says HONOR thy mother and father!”

“Uncle, I would literally die for mother and father.” She said in a deadpan inflection. “I’m just saying I hope they plan to do more for our new political party in the future outside of joining it and playing paper-pusher.”

“I promise that we will triumph in destroying that monstrous bomber and strike against the Neo Prussian monsters.” Fritz asserted. “No matter how painful it is to see German citizens embrace a horrid time of our long and rich history, the HCA shall persevere against them! Faye, who was silently fixing the system’s security, noticed the group talking. She despised any and all monarchists, but fritz and veronica’s attempt to make their organization less terrible struck a chord. Fritz’s ear twitched and spun around to meet her gaze. “FAYE!” he yelled out to her. “We’re leaving and going to have a nice dinner, you’re cordially invited!” Faye looked back to the building she left, and back to Fritz. She checked her pda, noting that her schedule was clear for the rest of the day, and her comrades not responding her for any social outings within QM’s population centers. She felt a twinge of sadness, but when her eyes met fritz, she felt less upset.

“Sure!” she gleefully said. “Beats locking myself in my barracks all day like some loser and not talking to anyone!” Fritz and the rest of the HCA became shocked or concerned.

“Oh dear, are you alright?” asked Fritz sincerely, walking up to her and rubbing her hand.” “No one should ever feel alone or rejected, we’re all here for you, I promise.” Faye began to blush, unsure whether to gently rib fritz for his inability to pick up on her sardonic tone, or happy that she was receiving positive physical attention.

“Relax dude, I’m fine.” She assured him, gingerly slipping her hand from his. They all made their way to a specialized dining area, Faye walking next to Fritz the entire time, striking up a conversation on the French revolution.

“Think of it as initiation, as our 6th team member!” Veronica said cheerily smacking her on the back.

Over the coming days, the VWS-1 and Faye would be subject to an intense bootcamp as well as being informed the of the strategy regarding the destruction of the stealth bomber. Before the operation, the VWS-1 would go on a short recon mission near their entry point. Joseph observed the cloudy, and ominous skies of Southern Veledovia. As he held his carbine, he gently brushed the tall, native grasses as the were windswept by pre-rain breezes. He observed that even VWSSOC was called into accompany him and the rest of his comrades. As AKROPOLIS swept the area with her manned drones, Logan was perched atop her shoulder, sweeping the area with his own carbine. His lover was in similar armor and combat vestments comparable to the ones he was forced into at the time of his rescue, the exception this time is that they bore the same colors and camo pattern his his VWS-1. AKROPOLIS, HECATE, and even Faye were all put into armor that mimicked Laleh’s.

“Bit too quiet out here.” Joseph said inside his now modified helmet, the louder howls being filtered out.

“Enjoy it while it lasts.” Said Nathan in his own new helmet, “When we enter the old Davodich subway tunnels, the fighting will be loud enough to wake the dead.” He clicked the side of his helmet. “This is Nathan, nothing out of the ordinary here.” He observed veronica picking up a rabbit carcass and dangling it from its foot, prodding it and letting it swing before tossing it aside. “Yep, business as usual.” He reiterated. Fritz bounded back near his comrades, once again slowing his top 75 mph speed to avoid collisions or slides.

“I have some grave information to report, kaptain.”

“How serious is it?”

“There is just…so much blood.”

“Joseph, Logan, take point and follow fritz.” Faye bounded to meet them, looking back at Nathan. He nodded, prompting her to continue.

The two psychics followed their friend to a grisly sight. A CNGS convoy had been ambushed and its soldiers were slain. Their limbs were strewn across the pine trees, hung upside down from its branches with chains, or impaled on rotting, aged fence posts. The Nazi German swastika was carved into the faces of the corpses, and spray painted on the destroyed tanks and armored vehicles. The one anomaly of the entire nightmarish spectacle was a single letter pinned to the corpse of one of the soldiers.

“I don’t sense any traps or danger, but nothing about this seems right.” Declared joseph. ARKOPOLIS took point and took out a small demolition robot, and carefully drove it to the body lying flat on its face. Veronica immediately spun around behind her and began sweeping the area in a panic.

“I KNOW YOU SKULL FACED BASTARDS ARE OUT THERE!” she shouted. “YOU WON’T GET THE DROP ON US AGAIN!” The small robot cut open the letter as Veronica lowered her machine gun.

“They’re not here…yet.” Said Joseph as he gave his approval to AKROPOLIS that the letter was safe. AKROPOLIS was bewildered that the letter was written entirely in 03, but handwritten and in cursive. The scarred young man noticed its flowery calligraphy despite the grisly site it was taken from. Fritz approached the letter.

“It says “I assure you, on my paladin’s honor, that none of these weaklings corpses have been trapped and my note is not an IED or coated in some contagion.” Fritz said. He fought the urge to vomit as whoever wrote the letter was an HCA defector, and most likely took the same calligraphy class as he did. "I admit to full responsibility to wiping out this cadre of soldiers who died in the name of the Cowards for global insecurity. I also admit to ordering my own cadre of Poltergeist Commandos to ignore any plea for mercy or surrender when the battle turned to our favor." Joseph and Logan took cover behind the destroyed, burned out shells of the Armored Personnel Carriers, still trying to determine if any danger or belligerents were present. “Should any HCA loyalists find this letter, your attempts at pluralism and tolerance within that putrid court are futile." Veronica seemed to waiver, her grip on her machine gun weakening. “You reformists might as well be communists, for all the vitriol and venom you throw at them.” Faye could sense Fritz becoming more and more emotionally compromised as the went on. “To get to the point, the monster that wrote this letter essentially praised Schmidt for masterminding the bombing of Berlin and praises Adolf Hitler, and signed his name as “WHITE PALADIN.” Veronica walked up to him, noting one last thing.

“These freaks even have a little motto, “EMBRACE THE VATERLAND’S CONQUERER PAST.” Veronica hissed. Charlotte crouched down at the other writing and graffiti the other EUROPA’s fury members left.

“This shall not dissuade me from my path.” Announced Fritz. “We shall TRIUMPH over these fascists, and we SHALL steer the HCA court to a better, brighter Germany.” Faye tilted her head as begin to have newfound respect for the two siblings. Fritz’s hands trembled so badly he almost dropped the letter. The medical specialist of VWSSOC, EQUINOX reported to his superior, Sgt Nguyen.

“Sergeant, I’m identifying Ukrainian, Russian, French, Danish, Hungarian, and several other eastern European languages.” She stood up straight from investigating an ALA soldier that appeared to be some sort of android. “Intel was correct, and it looks like WNM6 truly is going to flood the Veledovias with EUROPA’s fury soldiers.”

“Recover the bodies, and burn any files they had on them.” Sgt Nguyen said.

“How tragic.” Said Laleh. “This recon assignment has been reduced to a recovery mission.”

“No kidding.” Said Joseph, accepting the grim horrors that would await them. “This war is going to a bigger nightmare than anyone expects.” The two VWS squadrons begin to clean up and destroy documents. AKROPOLIS tried to put on a brave face despite the atrocity.

“You guys have nothing to worry about!” she said, flexing her enormous biceps. “Those fascist fools are up against the best damn special forces team in the world!” Veronica gave a vigorous, if not somewhat half-hearted nod. After packing up what could be salvaged, the VWS loaded the bodies into several VTOL mini Harris aircraft. In the distance, Joseph saw destroyed buildings and a giant grain silo with the ALA’s swastika painted on it. He could sense a presence approaching him.

“An old, Jewish Veledovian neighborhood was recently destroyed by the AVN. Joseph turned to meet EQUINOX. “I can’t imagine the devastation that poor people must feel. The two stood side by side, observing the desolate landscape. “In 1939, Nazi Germany invaded and occupied that neighborhood, and 100 years later, their estranged children destroyed it.” The wind itself seemed to howl in anguish. “No matter who wins in this war,” said EQUINOX as Joseph absorbed the desolate sight. “It’s the civilians, the ones who never asked for this, who will suffer the most.” The two stood side by side with each other. “And this war is only a microcosm of a global conflict with WNM6, so many have suffered and will continue to suffer as long as they exist.” The wind picked up, causing the fields of native grasses to dip and weave from the gust. The sun peeked out momentarily from the large, dark clouds only to be hidden once more. Despite its brief appearance, there was sliver of respite that both men appreciated.

“You know a lot more than I do about them.” Said Joseph. “How the hell do you not…go crazy after the terrible shit they’ve done?”

“I focus on who and what I can save.” Answered EQUINOX. “It’s all anyone can do…and it’s something I can help you with.” Joseph stood frozen for a minute. “We are in always in short supply of medics and emergency medical technicians, and while the CNGS would never remove us from combat, I could set you on a path that can aid victims.”

“Good point.” Joseph replied. “Maybe I can do something besides killing these monsters.” The two reunited with their respective teams and VTOL aircraft. Nathan and veronica tried to brush off the horror to return to their boastful selves, however, the actions and words seemed hollow. ARKOPOLIS tried once again to be boastful in the face of the atrocities, prompting Charlotte to snap at her, to take the coming war seriously. She grew sad as Logan seemed to stare out the window, gripping a small coin written in Afrikaner dutch. He refused to take his eyes off it, gripping it tightly. Laleh continually checked her PDA as Joseph talked with EQUINOX. The words “THE QUEENS SHOULD BE READY FOR DEPLOYMENT SOON” were delivered to her in a coded message. Faye and Fritz simply sat together in silence. Within one weeks’ time, they would head for QM held territory to infiltrate West Veledovia’s subway tunnels. Sgt.Nguyen had a back and forth with several CNGS special forces commanders over even more dire news.

“Everyone.” Said the cyborg woman calmly. “Several AVN battalions had made advances into East Veledovia, and there’s a battalion marching its way in the direct path the stealth bomber, we MUST start the raid early.

TO BE CONTINUED IN MISSION 9

[clothyume]

Rainbow After the Rain/ Episode 4

Season: Autumn

Characters: Souma, Izumi, Shu, Aira

Aira: —Just as I thought, it’s sold out here too. This place is idol territory after all. It’s natural that fans and resellers would keep an eye out… 

This is the only convenience store in the whole shopping district. Uu, maybe I should give up already…

Izumi: That dejected face. You really haven’t found it yet, have you? 

Aira: Eh? What’s Sean-senpai doing here?  Am I in the way somehow…? 

Izumi: No. You turned your senpais down even though we said we’d help you, all I can say is you’ve got guts. Do you still not understand? 

Aira: I’msorryI’msorry! I didn’t mean it like that!

Just that, I’m sorry you guys had to waste your time on something like this…!? 

Izumi: Huh? You’re really going to say it’s none of my business when I’ve gone out of my way to worry about you? 

Aira: Th-That’s… Not what I mean!? 

(Ah, Sena-senpai’s lovely face is so close!? Even though he’s angry I can’t help feeling a little satisfied…) 

Izumi: Hey! Are you listening?  

That expression is so creepy, as an idol you should be more reserved. Don’t you realize anyone could be watching?

Aira: R-right. I’m sorry! But… Are you really sure about this? 

Shu: There’s no need to feel guilty, Shiratori. If it hadn’t started to rain we would’ve abandoned you without a second thought

Izumi: Hang on, you don’t need to say all of that. Don't you ever watch your language? 

Aira: (Should Sena-senpai really be saying that?)

Izumi: …What’s with that look? Did you have something to say? 

Aira: N-Nope! It’s nothing! I mean, didn’t Itsuki-senpai just say it’s raining?  

Souma: Yes. We actually got caught in an evening shower. We had to buy umbrellas at the “convenience store”

Aira: Ah, so that’s why. I thought the weather looked suspicious

Izumi: Right. That’s why you don’t need to be sorry. The rain doesn't look like it’ll let up any time soon, so we might as well help while we’re buying umbrellas.

Aira: Thank you so much. But, it’s really okay 

Izumi: You’re not trying to hold back, are you? 

Aira: Nope. The collaboration cookie tin I’m looking for is sold out at the convenience store. This is the only one in this shopping district 

If we look somewhere else we’re going to end up getting wet 

Souma: Are all the “collaboration cookie tins” really sold out? Perhaps Shiratori just missed them? 

Izumi: There is a possibility. We aren’t even sure what the cookie tins look like. Isn’t there anything that tells you what it looks like? 

Aira: Give me a moment. If I look up the goods page on my smartphone… Ah, here it is! 

Souma: Oh, what an unusual tin. With such a bright colour and distinctive shape, it might be difficult to overlook… 

Shu: Wait a minute! May I have another look at this image? 

Izumi: What’s up? Have you seen it somewhere? 

Shu: No. That's not it. But this colour, and this shape… 

Yes! I want this! 

Izumi: …Huh? Wait, what the hell are you saying so suddenly? 

Shu: It’s not sudden at all. Are you not already aware of today’s goal? 

Before, I had actually been searching for some sweets that convey Japan’s “kawaii culture” 

Souma: “Kawaii culture”? What kind of era and culture is that?  

Aira: No, it’s modern culture, Kanzaki-senpai! I didn’t think Itsuki-senpai was the kind of person to be interested in that kind of thing 

Itsuki-senpai’s style is definitely fine art! You wouldn’t think he’d have an eye for pop culture 

Izumi: Well, considering Mademoiselle, it makes sense, right? 

Shu: Non! Don’t bring her into this. However, I have no intention of treating “kawaii culture” as inferior

These days, Japan’s “kawaii culture” has gained quite the popularity overseas. It’s also popular in France. 

I was looking for something to bring back to France as a souvenir, but nothing caught my attention… 

However, this cookie tin is perfect. It would be the perfect way to reciprocate the macarons I received from my friends overseas

Aira: Umm, in other words, you want one of these too, Itsuki-senpai? 

Izumi: In short, yes. But did you forget that the problem we have right now is that these are sold out? 

Souma: Hmm. I just went into the “convenience store” to look for it, but I couldn’t find the tin Shiratori showed me

Izumi: See, it’s just like Kanzaki says. No one would have any trouble if you could just say you want something and then get it!  

Shu: Hmph. Shiratori said earlier that he looked around Saison Avenue. In that case, he must have looked for a convenience store along the way 

Have you considered searching Time Street? 

Aira: Ah! Now that I think about it I haven’t looked there yet 

Shu: In that case, let’s try there first. Considering it has been dubbed a “nightlife district” it shouldn’t be short of convenience stores

Aira: R-right! Thank you so much! 

Izumi: Wait a second! Are you really willing to run to Time Street without an umbrella? 

Shu: Oh, now that you mention it, it was raining. I was too absorbed in my thoughts and completely forgot

Souma: There’s no need to worry. I bought umbrellas for the four of us earlier, if you’re in a hurry, please use these

Aira: Ah, you’re amazing, Kanzaki-senpai!? Thank you! 

Izumi: You bought these when you were in the convenience store looking for the cookie tin, aren’t you sensible, Kanzaki 

Souma: I just looked while I was buying them. I did as Sena-dono said♪ 

Izumi: I’ll pay you back later, and make sure everyone else doesn’t forget

Shall we hurry to Time Street, then? It’ll be annoying if we come this far and can’t get our hands on it

Previous | Next