#you must understand that i treat my hair as if i am a sheep

[skitskatdacat63]

I just realized that the haircut I just got looks like Roman's, except that it'll never look exactly like his bcs I refuse to put product in my hair

[ravens-inquisition]

SESSION 2

II. A Funeral of Flowers and a Birth of Beginnings

A leather-bound journal was found, with an outline of a feather stamped on its cover. Though humble in appearance, the insides are tidily preserved.

~ Personal Entry, Swan Knight Calandrius

Alek managed to scrounge up a flute and an unused journal from the quartermaster. I will have to remember to thank him later, a bottle of Yartar malt should do, though knowing Alek perhaps I should get two. -- I am one of six survivors from the prison wagon. An eclectic group, as one would expect from a wagon of recusants. I think Marazel would like them, they ought to liven things up in the Hells.

A series of harsh and alien symbols divide these two paragraphs

Mara, if you are reading this, their souls are off-limits. I've sent more than enough souls to the Styx for Zariel's damned war. Tumble soon the next time you're in Toril <3

We entered the valley by way of a fortified gate, passing by Voronian refugee camps and a few settlements here and there. I am told we are headed towards a castle. Alek said something about missing a funeral. Apparently, it was the funeral of Queen Ravenovia, said to have passed on the journey here from Voron. -- We arrived to a castle in mourning. Greeted by an imposing elf, black of hair and sunkissed skin. I know of no sun elf with such complexion, though I've heard people refer to him as General. The soldiers have treated us courteously and with respect, despite how.. difficult our little crew makes it, this General must run a tight ship. Good on him.

I could have sworn I saw a vein or two pop out in Alek's forehead. It appears that he has assumed the role of shepherd for our merry herd of black sheep. Better him than me. -- To kill some time, Alek took us to a chapel of the Morninglord holding Queen Ravenovia's wake. We see Prince Sergei at the front, presiding over the funeral, flanked by an imposing knight in a dark suit and a cleric of sorts. His handler perhaps? Poor lad, 'tis a horrible thing to lose a parent. There seems to be a mix of Voronians and local natives at the funeral. The Voronians are deep in mourning, and the natives -- Tergs I'm assuming -- seem understandably indifferent. The Queen's body was presented in a casket adorned with flowers, white lilies, or lilacs perhaps. Some violet clematis would have made her hair shine some more. All in all, she was preserved beautifully, almost as if she was asleep. Cain accompanied me as we paid our respects, he looked like he could use the distraction. Shame I can't do anything about his limp, but I've always neglected my healing lessons, I suppose it can't be helped. -- I've been told after the fact that Pike and Omen went off to the gardens for some grub. Pike was nice enough to bring treats for us later, I could've sworn I saw a scratch or two on Omen's face. Something about a dog, we shall have to give it a name the next time we find it. Frank as usual terrorizes those in close proximity, boredom I suspect. Though why he would terrorize an old coot who has seen too many winters is beyond me, looks near-blind by the coloring of his pupils. Alek was on Violet duty for most of the wake. Probably wanted to study the Queen's body, though she looked bored towards the end. Some local leader talking to Prince Sergei seemed to have been leaving in a huff. Wondering what kind of hurry they would be in, I attempted to trail them. Unfortunately, we are still under watch, though the castle guards seem to have it handled. -- We were finally summoned to Strahd von Zarovich's personal study. A man of grim repute if the stories are to be believed, doesn't sound like your typical Voronian noble, but I have been proven wrong before. -- Apparently, we have been summoned by Strahd von Zarovich himself, the master of this castle. But we have some time to kill, though we are still watched. Made our herd of murder-sheep more presentable without all the mud and blood.

It appears that Strahd had extensive dossiers for me and the others from the prison cart. I wonder just how much he knows. He seems a military man through and through, from the papers strewn about on his desk and the pieces on the map, he seems intent on making this Barovia of his a reality.

He has a sense of justice quite unlike old Barov, refreshing to see a noble so devoted to his people. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, heavier so are the burdens of a people; he has chosen to carry both.

Strahd extended an invitation towards us to join his court, should we complete the task, whatever it may be. He claims to have exhausted every option in settling the valley, and he needs unconventional means to secure it. We are dubbed Inquisitors, for what purpose we have yet to discover. I only hope that the road we walk does not lead to more blood nor senseless death.

All this rumination is doing a number on my mood. I'm taking this flute out for a spin in the town outside.

[haljathefangirlcat]

Sigfrido, 1958

Also know as Sigfrido, La leggenda dei Nibelunghi... or, that time we went a little Fritz Lang.

Like Lang's Siegfried and Kriemhilds Rache, this Italian movie by Giacomo Gentilomo (starring Sebastian Fischer as Siegfried, Ilaria Occhini as Kriemhild, Rolf Tasna as Hagen, Giorgio Costantini as Gunther, and Katharina Mayberg as Brunhild) tells the story of Siegfried and the Nibelungs. It draws its main inspiration from the Nibelungenlied, but also includes elements from Wagner's The Ring of the Nibelung, as well as musical pieces and themes "freely adapted and elaborated" (as the credit sequence says) from the operas Siegfried and Götterdämmerung specifically. And, since it has been adapted into English under the title The Dragon's Blood but I really doubt you'd find that version as easily online and/or free, I've decided to translate its dialogues from Italian into English.

Only its dialogues, though. Writing down each scene with all of its dialogue, action, and setting would have taken a lot more time and effort, and this was already difficult enough without a script on hand. This translation is meant less as a substitute for watching the movie and more as something to keep around to understand what exactly is going on while watching it. Kinda like subtitles... except I don't actually know how to upload a movie with subtitles, lol. (Jokes aside, do watch the entire movie: the last scene doesn't have any dialogue so it didn't even make it into this post, and the one right before doesn't spend much time explaining what's happening on screen, either.)

Also, please note: the audio in the video I linked kind of... hiccups, sometimes. Mostly I had no trouble reconstructing the incomplete lines or the ones that were just difficult to hear, but sometimes I did have to guess. There's also a few places where I had to just give up and say "okay, I honestly have no idea who this character is supposed to be", because their name just wasn't said on-screen even once. Hell, even with Giselher and Gernot, I only figured out who was who when their names were finally spoken around... say, almost an hour into the movie?

I also want to point out that Gernot's name is rendered in the movie as Gerenot, but I stuck to the form I'm more familiar with because... well, I am pretty sure it's only said out loud once, anyway. A Danwarth is also mentioned in the opening credits, but as I have literally no idea who he was supposed to be, there's was even less of a question if I should keep his name like that or render it as Dankwart.

Anyway, here goes the actual translation!

OPENING QUOTE: Human life, in the exaltation of myth, becomes almost divine.

SIEGLINDE: Help! Help! SIEGLINDE: Please… take care of my baby. Siegfried. Please… SIEGLINDE: His father, Siegmund, died as a valiant man. This was his sword.

SIEGFRIED: Hoioh!

SIEGFRIED: Hoioh! MIME: No! No, no, no, no! No! Send that ugly beast away! Send it away! SIEGFRIED: Eat him! Eat this ugly smith who can't even make me a sword! Eat him! MIME: Away! Send it away, send it away… I made you the most beautiful sword in the world! Look! SIEGFRIED: Shoo, Brownie! Out! [He calls the bear "Bruno", which is a name but literally means brown/dark/tan and can be used to talk about hair, complexion, fur, etc…. also, "orso bruno" literally means brown bear] SIEGFRIED: And this, according to you, was the most beautiful sword in the world!? Lying braggart! MIME: Why do you treat me this way? Is this the gratitude a father is owed? SIEGFRIED: You, my father? Have you ever tried looking at yourself in the water of the stream? Could the sheep ever beget the bear? The serpent, the boar? Why do you keep hiding the truth from me!? You must tell me who is my father! MIME: Let me go! You're hurting me! If you grab me like that, how can I speak? SIEGFRIED: And don't tell me again that I am your son… MIME: No! It's true, you're not my son. Your mother entrusted you to me when she was on the brink of death. She was wounded, she passed away on the snow. SIEGFRIED: And my father? MIME: I don't know. But he was a valiant warrior… Siegmund was his name. SIEGFRIED: Can you give me any proof of this? MIME: Yes! MIME: I got this from your mother, and it was my only reward. SIEGFRIED: My father's sword… The sword of Siegmund. This will be my sword! Quick, stoke the fire! MIME: Yes, yes… SIEGFRIED: I will melt the two pieces and make a new blade out of them!

MIME: Go away, you spy! You're always buzzing around my smithy. ALBERICH: Is this how you treat your little brother? My advice is always precious… gold! MIME: I don't need it! ALBERICH: Don't you like gold, Mime? Not even that of the Nibelungs? MIME: I'm not interested! ALBERICH: You think me as naive as Siegfried!? But I can read your thoughts through the bones of your skull! MIME: What do you mean? ALBERICH: You made of the little lamb a nice lion, strong and sturdy, so that it may prevail on the dragon that guards the treasure. Mime, the Nibelungs' gold is so, so much! There's enough for both of us. I can help you carry it… MIME: Carry it away from me! Glutton! Traitor! Go away! ALBERICH: And you believe Siegfried won't betray you? MIME: He knows nothing, and nothing will he dare! ALBERICH: But when he knows… listen to me, there is a poison… SIEGFRIED: Mime! MIME: Go away! Go away, we'll talk about it another time! Go away! Go away!

SIEGFRIED: Mime! Look! Look. Here is my sword, finally. SIEGFRIED: Did you see that? It's with this sword that I'll conquer the world and face the dragon you've been telling me about ever since I was a child! MIME: Don't you feel fear? SIEGFRIED: Fear? Why don't you teach it to me? MIME: I can't, but the dragon… the dragon will teach it to you. Kill it and you'll know. SIEGFRIED: It will really be child's play. MIME: The dragon is horrible, enormous, stronger than a hundred bears… SIEGFRIED: And I wish they were a hundred thousand. Teach me the way. MIME: It's two days and nights beyond the forest, till the wood of the green stones…

SIEGFRIED: Are you trying to tell me something? SIEGFRIED: Come on. SIEGFRIED: Whoever bathes in the dragon's blood becomes invulnerable.

MIME: I didn't think you capable of doing something like this! Refresh yourself now, you're tired. Drink! MIME: Stop, you thief! MIME: Stop! Stop! Stop! The treasure belongs to me! ALBERICH: The poison was my idea! MIME: And who brought it? Me! MIME: No! No! Noo! ALBERICH: No! No! Mercy! Mercy, Siegfried! I didn't know anything, don't hurt me… let me live! I will turn you into the richest man in the world. In the cave there is the treasure of the Nibelungs, the most fabulous treasure on Earth… stop! I'm your friend! With the treasure, you'll be able to win the heart of Kriemhild, the woman anyone would want to be his. Come. Come! ALBERICH: Come…

SIEGFRIED: You damned monster. Where is the treasure you were talking about!? ALBERICH: Wait. ALBERICH: Put this ring on your finger and you'll see. ALBERICH: Only he who possesses the ring is the master of the treasure.

SIEGFRIED: You, too, are made of the same putrid flesh as your brother. ALBERICH: No! Don't kill me. I will be your slave. SIEGFRIED: If you want me to spare your life, you must tell me who is Kriemhild. ALBERICH: She's king Gunther's sister. SIEGFRIED: A king's sister. ALBERICH: But she'll be yours, because you're more than a king! SIEGFRIED: Not yet, but I will be! The road that separates me from her will be littered with my victories, and the sovereign of every kingdom I'll pass through will be my vassal! Tell me, where is Kriemhild? ALBERICH: In the castle of Worms, on the Rhine, in the land of the Burgundians.

ALBERICH: Go… do go! The enchanted gold thirsts for blood!

GERNOT: Did you see? This time, too, Hagen is the winner. HAGEN: To you, Kriemhild. May I be permitted to give you another token of my devotion. KRIEMHILD: Hagen is truly invincible. I understand why my brother, the king, holds him in such esteem. UTE: And you don't? KRIEMHILD: So do I. UTE: But you wouldn't marry him. KRIEMHILD: Please, mother mine! I've often heard it said that love gives brief joy and long suffering. And from you I learned that when you lose it, the pain is endless. UTE: What are you saying, daughter? All the tears I shed were compensated for in advance by the first kiss I had from your father. KRIEMHILD: I will never marry. It is much better to not have than to lose.

RUMOLD: No one else among these noble knights wants to measure himself against Hagen of Tronje?

SIEGFRIED: I salute you, Gunther, king of the Burgundians! GUNTHER: Who are you, who come all of a sudden to my royal keep? SIEGFRIED: My name is Siegfried, son of Siegmund. I bring with me twelve kings I defeated and made my vassals. GUNTHER: What do you ask for? SIEGFRIED: To fight against the most valiant of the Burgundians and offer you my sword. HAGEN: Go back from whence you came from, stranger, if you don't want to lose what you've conquered. SIEGFRIED: I'll put up as a prize my twelve kingdoms for the privilege of your hospitality, king Gunther. GUNTHER: Be then welcome at my court. You will find in Hagen of Tronje a worthy opponent. HAGEN: Have you already had your fill of your days, you intrepid knight, who put your life in peril? SIEGFRIED: Life? So be it.

UTE: Why do you draw away and blush? KRIEMHILD: Since when is it a custom at our court to welcome strangers? UTE: Why do you get angry? KRIEMHILD: In the yard there is an insolent, arrogant one who stares at me with his indiscreet gaze. UTE: He really is insolent. He's still looking. UTE: And he sure isn't looking at me.

KRIEMHILD: What's happening down there? Why do you laugh? UTE: The stranger did wrong in measuring himself against Hagen. Old as I am, I'd be stronger than him. KRIEMHILD: Yet when he came in on his horse… UTE: Eeh, the horse can hold its own, yes, but the knight will only see victory in his dreams.

UTE: Now Hagen will give him the final blow! UTE: Oh! UTE: I can't believe my eyes, it's the first time Hagen gets disarmed. KRIEMHILD: Wait till the end.

GUNTHER: Stop, Siegfried! GUNTHER: I proclaim you the winner. SIEGFRIED: I would have never wet my sword in the blood of a Burgundian. I only ask for your friendship.

UTE: Insolent, perhaps, but not arrogant. He's a valiant one. KRIEMHILD: What do I care for my brother's guests? It's enough that I can avoid them. UTE: And you better! That one has a wife and children. KRIEMHILD: You know him!? UTE: Of course. KRIEMHILD: Who is he, then? UTE: I don't know. But now, I know you.

GERNOT: Our hero seems tired. Or maybe he gets bored at the court of the Burgundians? GISELHER: He sure is more charismatic when he fights. GERNOT: Or is it Volker's music that bores him? GISELHER: Do you prefer more cheerful music? SIEGFRIED: Oh, no. GUNTHER: And what says our Hagen? GERNOT: Oh, Hagen would like music from instruments made of the enemy's guts. GUNTHER: Volker! Don't you have any music that may cheer up our guest? GISELHER: It's not this, brother, that may cheer up Siegfried. Something else is needed. GUNTHER: Am I perhaps guilty of forgetting something? GISELHER: An old habit. Remember the saying… ?: A feast without women is like a sky without stars. GUNTHER: Forgive me, Siegfried. This used to be a good habit of our court. But I don't have a queen. ?: That depends only on you, king Gunther. What are you waiting for? ?: You only need to choose. Every woman would aspire to be at your side. GUNTHER: But not the one I'd like. SIEGFRIED: So there is one. Who wounded your heart, king Gunther? GUNTHER: Brunhild. SIEGFRIED: The queen of Iceland. What name came out of your lips! Forget her. GUNTHER: Is she not worthy? SIEGFRIED: Oh, yes. Her fame has already crossed the borders of every kingdom, but in her veins runs liquid iron, not blood. GERNOT: She will only belong to one who will be capable of taming her. ?: And you would not be able to resist her in the field. GISELHER: If you lose, she'll kill you, brother! She's strong and fierce in the fight. ?: Many kings tried, and now the ground of Iceland covers them. ?: Her heart is made of bronze. GUNTHER: But her face is peerless in beauty. SIEGFRIED: She is as ruthless as lightning. GUNTHER: A thousand times, death by her hands, rather than live a hundred years with this feeling of impotence and shame. SIEGFRIED: Is it shame, if the embers burn you and the blade cuts you? Give up, Gunther! HAGEN: And this is your advice, intrepid hero? You, too, feel fear, then. SIEGFRIED: I don't know that word. I didn't tremble with you. HAGEN: And with Brunhild, would you be able to prove your valor? SIEGFRIED: I care nothing for the queen of Iceland. My heart… belongs to another woman.

UTE: Come, Kriemhild. It's now time for us to retire. It's late. KRIEMHILD: No! Not yet, mother. Please. The night with its dreams scares me. UTE: Yours is not the age of scary dreams. KRIEMHILD: Yet every night I see a vicious eagle tear to pieces a falcon of mine, strong and beautiful. What is that dream trying to tell me? HANDMAIDEN: The falcon means a groom. God protect him from the ravening eagle.

GISELHER: Queen, the king orders and begs that you, with your most beautiful dames, would honor him, and soon. There is a noble knight with us. UTE: Your mother is not queen anymore, and she has wilted. GISELHER: To my heart, there is no more beautiful woman. UTE: Boy… tell my son to forgive me, but I'm old and tired. Kriemhild will come in my place to honor the guest. GISELHER: As you wish, mother. KRIEMHILD: I? I, alone? UTE: You, with your handmaidens. KRIEMHILD: Now, and dressed like this? GISELHER: Now, and dressed like this! KRIEMHILD: Oh, no! Gutruna, the emerald brooch, the perfume, and a handkerchief! Rosmunda, the comb, the mirror, and the diadem! GISELHER: Aah, so many things! I'm starting to suspect that… KRIEMHILD: What? … Ah! I pricked my finger. GISELHER: There! That someone pricked you. KRIEMHILD: Oh, there's some blood… GISELHER: Quick, little sister, let's go! The guest wants to see you before you've completely bled out. KRIEMHILD: Ah, yes, let's go! I'm ready.

SIEGFRIED: I confess that, when I came to the castle, I felt a disorientation I couldn't explain. But now… I would never want to climb back on the saddle and leave your court. GISELHER: Here is Kriemhild, Gunther. This is the noble Siegfried. KRIEMHILD: Be welcome. SIEGFRIED: Thank you. GISELHER: This, and nothing else!? Did you lose the ability to talk? GISELHER: And you? Why do you blush? KRIEMHILD: Oh… we have to forgive him. He's a crafty scoundrel, free as a colt that knows not bridles nor whip. GUNTHER: It's up to you, Kriemhild, to offer the prize to the winner of the tournament. SIEGFRIED: Let this be the prize. KRIEMHILD: You don't like my jewel? SIEGFRIED: Jewels are hard, cold stones. But this… KRIEMHILD: But it's stained with blood. SIEGFRIED: Your blood. It makes it more valuable. KRIEMHILD: The embroidery's mine, too.

HAGEN: What do you want? ALBERICH: Your help. We have to get our hands on the Nibelungs' treasure. HAGEN: You're either mad or plotting a betrayal. The treasure is guarded by the dragon. ALBERICH: It was killed. HAGEN: Impossible. Who dared? ALBERICH: Siegfried! HAGEN: Him!? And the treasure!? ALBERICH: It's his. Now he owns the ring. HAGEN: Siegfried… that demon is at Gunther's court. ALBERICH: I know! And that's why I came. HAGEN: The treasure is in his hands… but he is in mine! The Nibelungs' gold will be ours. ALBERICH: It's no easy deed. Siegfried is strong and owns the magical net that turns him invisible. HAGEN: I will kill him! ALBERICH: He's invulnerable! He bathed in the dragon's blood. HAGEN: I was the strongest of the Burgundians… now Siegfried is. I had Kriemhild and he took her from me. Nothing, then, will my hatred be capable of against him!? ALBERICH: If iron can't kill him, other means will be able to. May the fierce beast change its look and, on par with a fox, sharpen its wits.

SIEGFRIED: If I look into your face, every word seems inadequate. Such sweetness, such light in your blue eyes… KRIEMHILD: My mother, perhaps, chose them for me with a wish before I was born, so that they may bring joy to those who came near me. SIEGFRIED: Two limpid dewdrops, clasped in a radiant Spring morning. KRIEMHILD: My mother cried for the eyes you're praising, when as a child I took a bad fall. Only the zeal of her prayers prevented me from becoming blind. See the scar here on my temple? SIEGFRIED: Let me kiss it. KRIEMHILD: You're an ardent doctor. Don't waste your medicine like this. The wound has already been healed for a while. SIEGFRIED: Now the flames of your face rekindle it, like the first day, when I saw you… KRIEMHILD: It's foolish, my blood rising up so rapidly. My mother compares me to a rose garden that alternates white roses to the red ones. SIEGFRIED: A rose garden that speaks without saying anything, like love, which needs no words.

GUNTHER: Don't even think that, it's not easy to bridle a wild colt. GISELHER: You, my king and brother, watch without seeing. Those two have already bridled each other. SIEGFRIED: King Gunther, in exchange for my sword, which I consecrated to you, you gave me a regal hospitality that makes me happier by the day. Now I dare ask you for an even greater payment: your sister, Kriemhild, for my bride. GISELHER: What did I tell you? As you can see, the bridles are sturdy. GUNTHER: Where are you going? GISELHER: I'm running to Kriemhild, to read the happiness on her face! GUNTHER: I have no doubt, Kriemhild will be happy to become your bride. But don't deprive us of her presence too soon. What would this court be without her smile? HAGEN: Wait a moment, Gunther! Before you commit definitely, I advise you to set one condition: ask Siegfried, in exchange, for his help in conquering Brunhild. SIEGFRIED: Why, Hagen, do you still push your king to a deadly deed? GUNTHER: I will have to fight alone against the queen of Iceland, no one will be able to give me his help. HAGEN: He can, and he's the only one. GUNTHER: I don't understand how. HAGEN: He owns the Nibelungs' treasure. He killed the dragon and bathed in its blood. His is the net that turns one invisible. You'd be afraid to fight a woman? You know well that the sword finds no easy prey in you. SIEGFRIED: You deceive yourself, Hagen. Iron can strike me and bring me death, and for that I thank the linden leaf that fell on my body while I was bathing in the dragon's blood. I have a vulnerable spot where death can find its opening… but that's not why I withdraw. It's just that deceit is not convenient to us and all of this tastes like betrayal. HAGEN: Does it seem to you that you're betraying someone, if you use your sword where your fist is not enough? What strength does your love for Kriemhild have? I thought that for her, you would have dared anything. GUNTHER: If you can, help me, Siegfried. We'll celebrate our weddings together: for Brunhild, I will give you Kriemhild. SIEGFRIED: Ah, Kriemhild… for you, for your love… GUNTHER: Help me, Siegfried! SIEGFRIED: So be it. I will help you. HAGEN: But for eternity, not a word. The three of us, with no other witnesses: may the fourth one be death.

BRUNHILD: Welcome to the court of Iceland. SIEGFRIED: Your first greeting is not for me, queen, but for king Gunther, to whom I am a vassal. BRUNHILD: A vassal, you are? SIEGFRIED: Yes, queen. BRUNHILD: What brings you to my court, king Gunther? GUNTHER: The fame of your valor, queen, and the desire to have you in Worms as a bride. BRUNHILD: I will be your bride if you win me in the three trials I will propose to you. But if you lose… HAGEN: Never was king Gunther defeated. GUNTHER: And now that I see you, nothing will make me desist. I'm impatient to measure myself against you for the conquest of your beauty. BRUNHILD: Fearless you are, stranger! Your head will fall like that of many other haughty kings. Look at their weapons! GUNTHER: Death I fear not, if it comes from you. I am ready. BRUNHILD: Bring the weapons!

BRUNHILD: To you, Gunther! SIEGFRIED: I am at your side, Gunther. BRUNHILD: Spear and shield! BRUNHILD: Don't be happy. You haven't won yet!

GUNTHER: Why are you so sad, oh my queen? Yours wasn't a defeat, you won my heart. And at your feet, now I am no king but a slave. Happy you will be in my green land, far from your lonely rocks. BRUNHILD: Don't delude yourself, Gunther. You only bring a prisoner there. GUNTHER: No, I bring you, the worthy queen of the Burgundians. BRUNHILD: You keep me by force. GUNTHER: You deceive yourself. You'll be mine by love. BRUNHILD: Don't speak to me of love! HAGEN: It's only a few hours longer, now. Land is almost in sight. BRUNHILD: Teach your jackals not to enter without my permission!

HAGEN: Forgive me, Gunther. GUNTHER: Hagen… I think yours wasn't good advice. HAGEN: Why? She was won. GUNTHER: But not by me. And perhaps, obscurely, Brunhild suspects it. HAGEN: Give her time. She still hears the gloomy screams of ravens and carrion crows, but when she listens to the lark and the nightingale sing, her heart will change, I'm sure of it.

BRUNHILD: You seem proud of steering the ship that brings me, as a prisoner, to Burgundy. SIEGFRIED: You deceive yourself, milady. You are a queen. BRUNHILD: A queen won by force. SIEGFRIED: Don't be upset, it was you who proposed the fight. BRUNHILD: And where were you? While the king was fighting. SIEGFRIED: On the ship, so that the beautiful bride wouldn't lack a worthy welcome. BRUNHILD: Were you that sure of his victory, then? SIEGFRIED: Yes. BRUNHILD: You hold him in high esteem. Has he ever deigned to fight you? SIEGFRIED: Oh, yes. BRUNHILD: Did he win against you!? SIEGFRIED: Of course. BRUNHILD: And yet… when I saw you… BRUNHILD: I believed you were the king… and that I should fight against you… and a trembling came over me… a trembling mixed with dejection. Fear… yes, fear… I don't know if it was for your life… or mine… and I thought, he will win me. BRUNHILD: Come on, talk to me! Please. Tell me of your land. SIEGFRIED: A wonderful land, where the Sun brightens up every color. BRUNHILD: But the gemstones of Iceland… their brilliance has no equal in the whole world. SIEGFRIED: But it's cold and frigid as rock. While the colors of the flowers that grow in Burgundy make the air smell sweet, they seem to speak of love… look! Look how lively is the blue of this endless sky. BRUNHILD: Oh, yes… it's beautiful. I've never seen such a color in my land, except in your eyes, Siegfried. Ah, this journey…! I wish it would never end! ?: Land in sight! SIEGFRIED: Furl the sail! [I'm NOT a sailing expert, but "to furl" is what WordReference gives me for "ammainare"… that is, the tecnical term for lowering the sail] SIEGFRIED: Take the oars in hand! HAGEN: Hoist up the king's banner!

HANDMAIDEN: Hear that, milady? It's the victory signal! KRIEMHILD: He comes back! It's him, Gutruna! It's him! My soul and life… come, let's go back in, quick. KRIEMHILD: Oh! Giselher! GISELHER: Take heart, little sister, your brother has run to your aid! Let's go, our mother is waiting for us. GERNOT: Welcome back, Gunther! Hail to you, Brunhild! UTE: You couldn't give my heart a greater joy. Be you welcome in Burgundy, you are truly beautiful and worthy of being our queen. KRIEMHILD: We'll become sisters. BRUNHILD: You sooth my shame over having been won. UTE: You speak of shame… BRUNHILD: With the sincerity of my land. KRIEMHILD: My brother won you for love. HAGEN: She is his by right of arms. KRIEMHILD: Shut up, Hagen. She is the king's bride. Only love moved my brother, and may God grant the both of them a long happiness. GUNTHER: Thank you, Kriemhild. I invoke for you the same joy I feel. If I am allowed to choose a groom for you… KRIEMHILD: Milord, arrange it as you wish. GUNTHER: What do you say, mother? UTE: You are the king. GUNTHER: Then, please, release me from a promise and oath of mine and offer your hand to Siegfried. SIEGFRIED: No word could I tell you, oh king, to express my gratitude and my infinite joy to you. And to you, Kriemhild, I swear to love you faithfully for life and beyond life.

UTE: Don't fidget, daughter! How can Gutruna tie your gown? KRIEMHILD: I can't, mother! I can't! HANDMAIDEN: Happiness makes her impatient. KRIEMHILD: My heart is beating so hard… UTE: That you don't know anymore if the necklace goes in the bracelet's place or vice versa. KRIEMHILD: It's true, mother. But I'm so happy! UTE: Shut up! You must not say that. Don't listen to her, elves and Norns, and ugly she-mice with only one eye! [I… don't think the last one is correct. Obviously, she must be referring to some other kind of magical being that may be mischievous or malevolent, but the more I listen to that bit, the less I understand it… my best guess would be either "bruttatope" or "bruttatore", but I've never heard of any creature with a similar name, which is why I went with "brutte tope", "ugly she-mice", and called it a day.] KRIEMHILD: But I'm happy anyway. And not just for me, but also for Gunther. HANDMAIDEN: The whole kingdom will be celebrating. OTHER HANDMAIDEN: We'll finally have a queen.

GUNTHER: I've been looking everywhere for you. Kriemhild is almost ready, she's eager to go to the temple. BRUNHILD: How can you allow a vassal to marry your sister? GUNTHER: Siegfried is richer than a king! BRUNHILD: Then sit him on the stall nearest to your throne, if wealth is all that's needed not to be servants, here. GUNTHER: He's the first among my warriors! He conquered twelve kingdoms. BRUNHILD: And do you, who were able to win Brunhild, owe him anything, if he did something that would have been a thousand times easier for you!? BRUNHILD: This wedding offends me, and your house. And I don't want such dishonor. GUNTHER: I'm begging you, Brunhild, ask me for anything else, I'll be glad to satisfy your every will. But think on it: about Siegfried… BRUNHILD: You can't impose his presence on me as a relative. GUNTHER: He's a king, as I am myself! BRUNHILD: He introduced himself to me as a vassal! GUNTHER: It's a secret, this one, that I'll never be able to reveal to you. BRUNHILD: A secret!? A deal with the servants that the queen must not know about! Then listen to me: until you talk, Gunther, I'll be your bride… but not your woman.

GUNTHER: Oh, Hagen… did you hear? GUNTHER: What does your wisdom advise me to do? HAGEN: Be at peace. Don't fret. She can still be tamed, as she was in Iceland… GUNTHER: Like in Iceland? HAGEN: We began with magical arts, and with magical arts we'll have to end. Listen…

HAGEN: Yet a little longer and the gold will be ours. I have a weapon that, in my hand, will be subtler than a blade. ALBERICH: Which one? HAGEN: Gunther's love for Brunhild, who denies herself to him. HAGEN: My cunning will guide him where he aims. But then… I will pour in his ear a poisonous insinuation that, little by little, will carry out my game. HAGEN: Who could consider me a bad courtier, if my advice to the king will be to his advantage and apparently honest? ALBERICH: You speak through riddles. HAGEN: I have led Gunther to once again ask Siegfried for his help. Brunhild will be tamed and given to the king by the very man she so loves. ALBERICH: So, you tie them all up in one net. HAGEN: The queen can do anything. And her every will shall be satisfied. ALBERICH: And when she discovers the trick… HAGEN: May not even the air suspect anything.

SIEGFRIED: Brunhild.

KRIEMHILD: Where did you find this magnificent jewel? HANDMAIDEN: It fell from your husband's clothes. KRIEMHILD: Oh, it's certainly a wedding gift. But then he must have forgotten about it. KRIEMHILD: Strange, though… GISELHER: I challenge you to a run, Siegfried! Gernot will be the judge! GERNOT: Go! GISELHER: Don't laugh, Siegfried! Who can assure me that you didn't stop for fear of being defeated? GISELHER: Little sister! I beat your husband!

GERNOT: Let's go, Giselher. We're just in the way here. GISELHER: I think so, too.

KRIEMHILD: Don't you see anything in me that makes me beautiful? SIEGFRIED: Everything. Everything is beautiful and perfect in you. KRIEMHILD: But… there is one thing that adorns my dress. SIEGFRIED: It's wonderful. But around your body, I'd like to put the rainbow, for it suits you better. KRIEMHILD: And I would accept it. But then, you shouldn't forget it as you did with this… I didn't even notice your gift. SIEGFRIED: What gift? KRIEMHILD: It was Gutruna who found it in the room. SIEGFRIED: It must have been your mother who lost it. KRIEMHILD: No, I know her jewels. SIEGFRIED: Did you say it was in the room? KRIEMHILD: It fell from your clothes. SIEGFRIED: From my clothes? Now I understand… give it to me, let's throw it into the Rhine! KRIEMHILD: Does it hold an evil spell, to scare you that much? SIEGFRIED: A terrible secret. I can't tell you anything else! KRIEMHILD: To me!? Yet you confided to me a graver secret: the vulnerable spot where death can strike you. SIEGFRIED: It was only my secret. KRIEMHILD: And this one? SIEGFRIED: Not entirely. KRIEMHILD: And so it belongs to you and to another man? Or to another woman!? SIEGFRIED: Quick, Kriemhild, hide that jewel! Hide it! KRIEMHILD: No, if you won't talk! SIEGFRIED: I'll tell you everything, I swear it to you. SIEGFRIED: I obeyed an order from the king. Maybe the jewel got caught on my clothes, and I didn't realize it…

BRUNHILD: Stop, Kriemhild! The queen is entitled to go first here. KRIEMHILD: I'll wait for you, so we can bathe together. BRUNHILD: I'll be glad to turn you down. Remember that you are wife to a vassal! KRIEMHILD: What are you saying, sister? I don't understand you. BRUNHILD: Don't call me sister! Royal blood courses through my veins! KRIEMHILD: Don't I have the same blood as the king, your husband? BRUNHILD: Not anymore, ever since a servant contaminated it! KRIEMHILD: Enough, Brunhild! I won't tollerate such insolence even from the queen! BRUNHILD: How dare you asnwer me like this!? I despise you. KRIEMHILD: My husband, whom you call a vassal, could make you bite the dust! BRUNHILD: You're talking nonsense, insolent one! He is a servant and I am the queen. KRIEMHILD: A queen won by force! BRUNHILD: By a king! KRIEMHILD: By a king, yes, that you call a vassal. And twice already. BRUNHILD: You lie! You can't prove that! KRIEMHILD: Do you know this jewel? BRUNHILD: Of course. It belongs to me. And because I see it in a stranger's hands, it must have been stolen from me. KRIEMHILD: And yet this wasn't given to me by a thief. BRUNHILD: And by whom, then!? KRIEMHILD: The man who tamed you, but not my brother, not Gunther! BRUNHILD: You are crazy! Yours is slander! KRIEMHILD: Siegfried gave it to me, as it got caught in his clothes on your wedding night, when you were won for the second time! KRIEMHILD: And now, humiliate him again. BRUNHILD: Careful, Kriemhild! If what you say is true, my revenge will be ruthless.

GUNTHER: Only I am guilty. I wanted this deceit, justified by my endless love. I was and I am a slave to this feeling, that doesn't want me to live anywhere where you aren't. GUNTHER: I could give up everything: life, kingdom, honors. But not you. Please, Brunhild, I am awaiting a gesture of forgiveness from you that will calm my torment. Just one. GUNTHER: A wish of yours is law, here in Burgundy, and I will grant it with no hesitation. What can I do to make up for the offense? Tell me. Tell me what you want. HAGEN: A life-or-death ruling. GUNTHER: Hagen! HAGEN: He told. He broke the oath. GUNTHER: He'll be banished from the land of Burgundy! HAGEN: The man who did this must die! BRUNHILD: Yes! He must die! That is what I want! HAGEN: You demand it, and I approve it. Oh, king Gunther, forgive me if I spoke first. The decision is up to you. Choose, then, between Siegfried… and the queen. GUNTHER: I can't! I can't want the death of a brother! I pushed him to that deed, he obeyed me. It would be worse than a murder. HAGEN: The offense to the queen is such. As long as Siegfried lives, the shadow of deceit will weigh on Brunhild. GUNTHER: I can't. And you, too, Brunhild, you can't, you must not want this disgrace! BRUNHILD: He must die! GUNTHER: No, never. I will never consent to this.

HAGEN: But he will die. HAGEN: If you… BRUNHILD: If I… HAGEN: If you won't put yourself between him and your avenger. BRUNHILD: I was shamed, given away as a gift, bargained… HAGEN: Yes. You were the currency that allowed him to obtain Kriemhild. BRUNHILD: Let him die, then! I want revenge!

GUNTHER: It's frightening. It's horrible. I don't want it! How is it Siegfried's fault if the jewel got caught on his clothes!? HAGEN: He betrayed your secret. GUNTHER: And what would they say, Kriemhild… and my brothers? HAGEN: They won't know about it. They're too soft to understand that it was necessary. HAGEN: But don't worry. I will handle setting up the farce. HAGEN: A false declaration of war will induce Kriemhild to reveal his secret to me. As long as I know where he's vulnerable, it will take only me to carry out the deed. HAGEN: You're not saying anything. Good. The rest is my work.

SWORD INSTRUCTOR: Strike to the side. Head. No… you try, Giselher, start with the side. Head. Strike to the side. Head. Strike to the side. Head… HAGEN: Why so sad, Kriemhild? You still haven't made peace with your husband? KRIEMHILD: Siegfried is good, he spared me any reproach. KRIEMHILD: But now a greater anxiety torments me. HAGEN: Anxiety? KRIEMHILD: The war. HAGEN: And what do you fear? Spears and arrows bounce off your husband's body like off hard steel. KRIEMHILD: Spears and arrows? Those are what scares me. Their point only needs the width of my thumbnail to penetrate. HAGEN: And what does that mean? KRIEMHILD: Siegfried is vulnerable in one spot. And that's what frightens me. HAGEN: Yeah, I remember… he himself told me of a certain… linden leaf, I think, that fell… KRIEMHILD: Between his shoulders. HAGEN: I remember. So he said. HAGEN: Don't worry, Kriemhild, a leaf is so small! KRIEMHILD: But his temerity is so very great. HAGEN: There will be many of us protecting his shoulders. He's your husband, and everyone will want to be his shield. KRIEMHILD: Thank you, Hagen, you speak nobly. HAGEN: Don't fear. I will always ride by his side. KRIEMHILD: This comforts me. You have a keen eye and a strong, swift arm! HAGEN: Don't worry, I will protect him. I promise. KRIEMHILD: You are generous. HAGEN: Just… you should point out to me the exact spot. Embroider on his war clothes a tiny cross to mark that spot. KRIEMHILD: A tiny cross? HAGEN: It's almost madness. He would laugh at you if you told him. But since I'll be his keeper, I'd rather… nothing be overlooked. KRIEMHILD: It's here.

KRIEMHILD: Too soon have the happy days flown by. And who knows how long you'll be away from me? I will pray for you, the whole time. SIEGFRIED: It won't be long, I promise. It won't be long before the Saxons regret their haughtiness. SIEGFRIED: What does that mean? KRIEMHILD: Strange… SIEGFRIED: I'll go and see.

HANDMAIDEN: Milady! The ambassadors of Saxony and Denmark bring good news. KRIEMHILD: Speak! Quick! HANDMAIDEN: They came to ask Gunther for peace. Peace, milady! KRIEMHILD: Oh, Gutruna! May you be blessed! You couldn't have brought me a greater joy!

SIEGFRIED: I don't like it. I was already looking forward to teaching those dogs how to make war. HAGEN: I had them driven out of the castle before they could even speak. SIEGFRIED: You did well, Hagen. GISELHER: It must have been your fame that scared the Saxons and Danes! SIEGFRIED: I would have liked for them to know the strength of my steel. [He actually says "la tempra", which can refer to tempering metal but also to someone's fortitude or courage… the pun doesn't work quite as well in English, I think] HAGEN: Don't get upset. Today you'll still get to use your weapons. King Gunther summoned his knights for a hunt in the forest of Oden. GISELHER: It will surely be a gayer diversion than war. [… yeah, no, I'm keeping this] HAGEN: Are you coming with us? SIEGFRIED: Do you even need to ask? Even if you managed to tie me up, I'd gnaw at the rope to reach you.

HAGEN: Rumold! HAGEN: You'll give the signal to end the hunt from the great clearing, and not before sunset. RUMOLD: Good, sir.

KRIEMHILD: Don't leave! I have had a sad omen. SIEGFRIED: What dream frightenend you? KRIEMHILD: A boar wounding you to death. SIEGFRIED: Should the dragon's slayer be afraid of a boar? Give me a goodbye kiss. KRIEMHILD: Come back. SIEGFRIED: What a strange good wish is yours. What's gotten into you? I'm going out with some good friends, and unless the mountains crumble, nothing will happen to me. What do you fear, then? KRIEMHILD: Siegfried! KRIEMHILD: I wanted to tell you… SIEGFRIED: Another dream!? KRIEMHILD: I just wanted to see you one more time…

BRUNHILD: Stop!

GERNOT: We have enough game to satiate to the whole of Burgundy! GISELHER: And I have enough of an appetite to devour all of it! GISELHER: But, isn't Siegfried with you? ?: He disappeared into the woods, following the tracks of a boar as big as a bear! GISELHER: Then we won't see him until the prey's been taken down!

HAGEN: This is the place. He has to pass through here. Like any hunter, he'll be dying of thirst and happy to quench it in that spring. HAGEN: Think on it! We won't get get another occasion like this! GUNTHER: Are your guts made of bronze, that you don't feel shaken by this? HAGEN: As long as he lives, you'll be unhappy. Brunhild's hatred towards him has its roots in love. GUNTHER: No, Hagen. Don't confirm this thought that's always tormenting me. HAGEN: Not anymore, if you listen to me.

SIEGFRIED: What are you doing here? I didn't see the signal for a gathering. HAGEN: It's sweet to rest after a hunting trip. SIEGFRIED: It's even sweeter to spend the night in the woods between dream and wakefulness. In the morning you hear the singing of birds, you see the sun peek through the leaves… but what's the matter, Gunther? You don't look glad to me. HAGEN: The king is tired. You, too, rest! Put down your weapons and tell us what you hunted! SIEGFRIED: See, Gunther, that magnicent boar? I ran after him for over an hour. But let's leave the tale for later. I'm dying of thirst and, talkative as I am, I'll go mute, if I don't drink first. HAGEN: There's a spring nearby, with waters more sparkling than the blond wine of the Rhine. SIEGFRIED: I'll go quench my thirst and come back!

HAGEN: We'll say that the bandits lying in ambush in the woods killed him in his sleep.

SIEGFRIED: Kriemhild… Kriemhild… Kriemhild…

KRIEMHILD: No! KRIEMHILD: Siegfried… oh! KRIEMHILD: I kiss your mouth… that has no more breath. I kiss your lips, and they're bloodless and cold! UTE: Come, child… KRIEMHILD: No! I want to keep him like this for me! Always! Bury me with him… bring his clothes, clothes of silk and gold, and the flowers he so loved, pick them all! Oh, yes… who would they still bloom for? And place everything into the coffin, even my wedding gown, and me with him, so that I may cover his body myself. GISELHER: A terrible disgrace… KRIEMHILD: No! An murder! A betrayal! GERNOT: It was a thief's spear that struck him. KRIEMHILD: I know who the thief is. Oh, mother! KRIEMHILD: Stop! How dare you. ?: We're taking him into the cathedral. GISELHER: He belongs to God now. GERNOT: Come, sister. My heart is as torn as yours. KRIEMHILD: No! No, I want to follow him. Be near him! If I don't, they'll steal him from me. To take him where I could never find him! KRIEMHILD: You claim that he was killed by thieves? KRIEMHILD: I want proof. I demand the trial of the dead! KRIEMHILD: And everyone be there for it. Even he who I do not see here.

KRIEMHILD: A man was killed. I ask for truth and justice. Are you ready to testify for yourselves? ALL: We are ready. KRIEMHILD: You! Murderer! Justice! I want justice! HAGEN: Answer, Gunther! ?: The queen!

[rotworld]

2: Centaur

it’s said that only pure virgin maidens can call a unicorn, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

->explicit. contains horse genitalia, weird sex magic to enable human-to-horse genitalia compatibility, dubcon/noncon, semi-public sex, implications of mind-altering magic, gore, murder, kidnapping.

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You’ve never seen anything so beautiful.

The meadow is in full bloom, a sea of brilliance. Here, a profusion of daisies. There, a carpet of poppies. Asters and yarrow and little clovers, flowers you’ve never heard of, colors you didn’t know existed, bloom as far as the eye can see. There are starbursts, blue as the sea, that smell of salt and sand, and cones of pink blossoms that glitter in the light. Petals dance in a gentle breeze like prismic rain, carrying a soft, sweet scent. It feels like a dream. You’re knee-deep in flowers beneath a cloudless sky.

“This is impossible,” you say softly, afraid to disturb the peace. Your fingers graze a curving stem, heavy with bluebells. “It’s autumn. The leaves should be turning. How is everything so green?” 

The king’s men sigh tiredly, looking uncomfortable and terribly out of place in their clanking armor. “Unicorn,” they say, the only word they seem to know. Why are the winds so gentle here, spring-sweet and warm? Unicorn. Why is the water crystal clear and sparkling, the perfect temperature for both a quenching drink and a quick rinse of your dirtied hands? Unicorn. Why couldn’t you see the meadow until you crossed the river and passed a certain willow tree? Unicorn, obviously. They shake their heads at you like you don’t know anything.

“Sit here,” one of them tells you, pointing to a spot among the daffodils. 

Another one stops you just as you’re kneeling in the grass. “No, no, wait, over there is better. There are lilies. Lilies are a symbol of virginity.”

“I think the roses would be best,” a third chimes in. “Seems very maiden-like, doesn’t it? That’s what a maiden would pick, I think, if a maiden were out here, picking flowers.” The other knights nod sagely. “Then it’s decided. Over there by the roses, please. Here, sit with your legs folded like this…”

You roll your eyes. You can’t believe how seriously they’re taking the stupid little details. This whole expedition is a lost cause. It doesn’t matter how much they pretty you up, dressing you in this flowing gown and making you wander barefoot among the flowers. You’re a sheepherder, not a waifish little girl. A unicorn can tell the difference. But the king must really be desperate, because the knights are insistent as they correct your posture, smooth out your hair, and inspect you from every angle.

“Good. Perfect,” one of them says, nodding at his handiwork. “We’ll get into position. Do,” he pauses, waving his hand vaguely, “maiden things. Sing songs. Braid your hair. Whatever it is maidens do.” You watch them clang and clatter away to the treeline, hiding poorly among the rocks and flower bushes. You relish in the space and freedom, flopping on your back in the grass. You couldn’t care less if a unicorn comes or not. The fields are yellowed and prickly at home, nothing like the beautiful softness of this meadow. Your cousin agreed to watch your sheep for the day, so you don’t have a care in the world. You close your eyes and let eternal spring wash over you. 

You open your eyes to darkness.

You sit up slowly, groaning and groggy. You must’ve drifted off. Petals fall from your gown as you yawn and rub your eyes. Snoring drifts from the trees; the knights fast asleep. You stand up to stretch, only to find a new, fantastic landscape stretched before you. The meadow is tinged silvery blue in moonlight. New flowers, unopened buds just hours ago, bloom with a faint glow. A river of stars shines overhead. This must be the dream, you think, or maybe you’ve been dreaming since you crossed the river. Everything about the meadow is otherworldly, a place of beauty and gentleness unlike anything you’ve ever known.

And then you hear it. Softly at first and indistinct, but nearing, gradually louder. A rhythmic gait, too heavy for a human, too pronounced for fleshy feet. Hoofbeats. Your breath catches in your throat. You scramble to your feet and look around. Auroras shimmer above you, rippling ribbons of green. Night breeze blows across the meadow and the grass whispers at your ankles. You see him, trotting across the meadow. You see him and there are tears in your eyes. You realize you’ve never known beauty until this moment.

The unicorn is the color of night, black and deepest blue. His mane shimmers, woven with gemstones and glittering flower buds, and his horn shines like polished onyx. He is a man from the waist up, silver eyed and handsome. There are scars along his broad shoulders, puckered skin that healed a lighter gray. Beneath the waist, muscle twists and transforms into long equine legs. His gait is leisurely, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“My oh my, what do we have here?” he says. His voice is velvety smooth and alluring. Your apprehension melts away even as he stops before you, his front legs bending so you’re face to face. A heavy, coat-like fabric rests across the back of his horse body, royal purple and delicately embroidered with intricate floral patterns. He reaches for you, slender fingers curling along your jaw. You’re sure of it now. This is all just a dream. The unicorn chuckles, a warm and rumbling sound that fills you with heat. “You’re wide awake, little one.”

“You can read my thoughts?” 

“I can read more than that.” His smile widens and he stands to his full height. You fidget nervously as he walks in a slow circle around you, a hand beneath his chin. His hooves kick up petals and glittering pollen with every step. “Hmm, let’s see...a shepherd! How precious. What gentle hands. Ah, but a solitary life. You’ve not known a lover’s touch in quite some time.” Your face heats in embarrassment. His palm trails across your back as he passes behind you, squeezing your shoulder. 

“I thought unicorns only came to pure maidens,” you say. His every touch sends sparks across your skin. You can feel his warmth through the flimsy, thin fabric of your gown. At that, his smile gains a sharp edge, almost predatory. It’s gone as quickly as it came.

“What a delight you are,” he murmurs. “Coming all this way was worthwhile after all.” He begins to walk and you follow without being asked. There are flowers all around you but you pay them no mind now, too entranced by the beautiful creature beside you. You don’t know if you go far or not, time and distance rendered meaningless in the dreamlike embrace of the meadow. He leads you to a large, mossy rock formation, the stone sheared away to leave an unnaturally flat surface. You look back over your shoulder, remembering the knights. Did they sleep through all of this? Should you say something? The unicorn’s hand cups your chin, dragging your gaze back to him. His breathtaking smile obliterates all thoughts of anything else. 

“The stories are an exaggeration,” he tells you. He guides you gently, hands on your shoulders, to sit on the stone. His legs fold beneath him and he sits, his hands carding through your hair. The affection and desire in every touch, every gentle scratch of his fingers against your scalp, makes you hotter. “We appear to whomever we wish to appear to. But I confess, some of us do have a soft spot for virgins.” He presses a sharp kiss to your lips, nipping at you. “We enjoy teaching them pleasure,” he hisses, and pushes you suddenly onto your back. The gown is pulled from your body, discarded in the grass. Night air caresses your bare skin and you squirm beneath his wandering gaze.

Somehow, it only occurs to you now what his intentions are. The gentle caresses, the sensual touches and the heat in his gaze didn’t feel real. They still don’t, but now, naked and at the mercy of his hungry eyes, you understand. “You...you want me?” you say, your voice small in embarrassment. When you say it out loud, it sounds even more ridiculous, but there’s no mistaking this. He rests his arms across your abdomen, gazing up at you with fondness and longing. 

“I do,” he says. “Very, very much. Would you let me have you?” 

You bite your lip, your body trembling as he slips a hand between your legs and just grazes your sex with his fingertips. The touch is teasing, too fleeting, and leaves you aching for more. You nod shakily and he hums, pleased at your acquiescence. “What’s your name?”

He looks rather charmed that you asked, warmth filling his gaze. “I am Myurva,” he says. You give him your name in return and the way he says it back to you, the lascivious purr, makes you squirm. The unicorn rests his hands on your knees, gently but firmly easing them apart. “Spread your legs for me, lovely. I want to see you.” 

Myurva’s seduction is slow and patient even as you writhe and beg him for more. He opens you on his fingers, soothing your frenzied whimpers with sweet nothings and loving whispers of your name. You’ve never been treated with such devotion, such smothering lust and affection. He touches you like the love of his life, kisses tenderly and messily, drags his hand along your side and savors the way you move for him. “So very worth it,” he murmurs, kissing your inner thigh. He has two fingers inside you, caressing your walls and curling just right to reach the spot that makes you shriek. “How fortunate I am to have found you, lovely. I want to keep you. I want to spoil you each and every night.” 

You’re keening for him, sobbing with need, when he flips you onto your stomach. You hardly notice. You spread your legs when you feel his hands on you, kneading your ass. Everything is hot and electrifying, hazy with pleasure. Then his front hooves land heavily in the grass near your head and something enormous rubs against you. “Wait,” you say shakily. You hear a chuckle above you. The fleshy end of Myurva’s cock slides against your ass, smearing precum along your spine. Your heart skips a beat feeling the sheer size of it against you. There’s no way. It’s impossible. You try to push yourself up on your elbows and one of his hooves stamps dangerously near your head. 

“I thought you wanted me, lovely,” he says. He thrusts again, the length of him slipping between your thighs and grinding against your sex. “If you move, I’ll have to chase you. You won’t get far.” 

“You won’t fit,” you tell him, voice pitched in desperation. Trying to squirm just makes him rest his weight against you, crushing you between the stone and the bulk of his body. “You’re going to break me!”

“I’ll go slow,” Myurva purrs. He demonstrates with a slow grind, a gradual roll of his hips. His heated flesh feels so good against you. “I’ll be so, so careful with you. Don’t you remember the stories? I enjoy virgins. I haven’t harmed a single one. They wander the woods in search of me, begging to feel my cock again.” You hear his back hooves shifting, repositioning behind you. He lines himself up and his cock prods against your opening. “Let me show you,” he urges. “Let me bring you pleasure you’ve never known.” He grinds against you again, hot pressure building as he begins to push inside. You gasp his name, beg him to wait, to go slow, to give you a moment to collect yourself, but he chuckles and presses harder.

Your nails rake against the stone and your vision whites out. The burn of the stretch becomes a tingling sensation, numb at first and then blindly pleasurable, lighting sparks in your belly. It shouldn’t be possible but you feel the head inside of you. The pain is a dull ache but every movement chases it away, pleasure washing over you. He rocks his hips and the steady, shallow thrusts push him deeper. True to his word, he fucks into you agonizingly slowly, panting and moaning

“How do you feel, lovely?” he asks, his voice strained. He’s holding back, you realize, his hooves stomping restlessly as he makes small, unconscious thrusts to feel you wrapped around him. “Let me in deeper. Let me fuck you properly. You won’t regret it.”

You don’t think he can get deeper. You try to tell him as much, but a hard thrust knocks the breath out of you. The fullness makes your head spin. You feel yourself pushing back against him despite all of the sensations, the ache inside of you, the impossibility of the whole situation in the back of your mind. He makes a breathy, choked sound and then laughs, fucking you harder. “Ohhh, that’s it. Just like that. I knew you’d love this.” You can hear his cock slamming into your body, can feel the weight of his heavy balls slapping your ass with every thrust. You feel like a cocksleeve, a snug toy for him to fuck. The force of his thrusts drags you back and forth over the stone, scraping up your chest, but the pain is nothing compared to the pleasure he gives you. 

Someone is screaming, crying Myurva’s name into the night. You barely recognize your own voice, the needy pitch, the tremor in every word. You’re so full, so unbearably stuffed with cock, no longer trying to meet his thrusts but letting him move you, ruining you for any human partner. Your knees bruise on the stone. Your toes curl. Your cries build to a frenzied crescendo and you cum impaled on his enormous cock, shaking, panting his name.

“Lovely,” he moans, an obscene sound leaving his lips as your inner muscles clamp down on his cock. “Gods above, darling, I’m going to fill you.” He fucks you wildly, no rhythm, no caution, his whole cock slamming into you as hard and deep as he can get. You can’t move. The whole world turns white-hot and blinding. You go limp, gasping weakly as Myurva begins to grunt, his cock pulsing, his whole length crammed inside you.

You thought you were full already, but then he cums. You feel him straining on top of you, his whole weight thrown forward as he fucks ropes of thick cum into your body. It foams up around his length and makes obscene, slick sounds. You feel it overflowing, trickling down your thighs. It feels like it goes on forever, his moans, his deep, straining thrusts, his cock pouring more and more cum into your body until his balls empty and he finally, with a satisfied sigh, pulls out. 

You make an undignified sound at the sudden emptiness, and the rush of cum that follows. You’re grateful for the stone beneath you, cool against your sweat-soaked skin. Your legs are jelly. You don’t know if you’ll ever walk again. Myurva’s front hooves lift, stepping back from the stone. His human hand caresses your cheek. “You’re truly something, lovely,” he says quietly. “I spoke in jest of keeping you, but now...it’s difficult to resist the temptation.” 

You try to speak but only manage an incoherent murmur of noise. He chuckles and strokes your hair. Distantly, you’re aware of other noises than the two of you. Shouting. Footeps. Clattering steel. You remember suddenly that you aren’t alone out here, arms struggling to lift you. The knights. How could you forget? Shame heats your face. How long have they been awake? How much did they see? How much did they hear? Myurva shushes your protests, pressing a gentle hand on the small of your back. “Rest,” he says. You don’t think you’re capable of doing much else, anyway.

You hear a commotion behind you. The knights, shouting in outrage, drawing swords. Are they going to hurt Myurva? Your eyes widen and you try again, uselessly, to lift yourself and see what’s happening. The unicorn gives you one last gentle caress and leaves you, his hoofbeats stopping somewhere between you and the knights.

“At last, you show yourself!” the knights exclaim. You manage to roll onto your side, craning your neck to see them surrounding Myurva, but he doesn’t look concerned. He glances around, examining each of the men. 

“Let’s see,” he murmurs. “Subjects of King Cornelius. And you want…” The corner of his lips twitch in amusement. “A hostage? Is that right? Your people have no claim over our mountains. A hostage will not change this. My king does not negotiate.” His words are ignored. The knights are wary but they do not back down. You feel like a fool. Why didn’t you ask them what they wanted the unicorn for? You assumed it was something trivial, a silly princess who wanted a pet. Nothing like this. 

Myurva glances back at you. His silver eyes catch the moonlight and glint dangerously. Those are a predator’s eyes, you realize. A thing that hunts and stalks the night. “You worry for me, lovely?” he purrs. “Your every emotion is so tender. I really must keep you. But, alas,” he chuckles, turning back to the knights, “business first, my sweet.”

You hadn’t looked all that carefully at the fabric across the back of his body. You hadn’t noticed the sword sheaths hanging there, hidden beneath the drapes and tassels. You hear steel scraping steel as he unsheathes twin blades, long and curved, as strikingly silver as his eyes. One of the knights tries to say something. “Come quietly,” or some other meaningless thing. He never finishes speaking. You hardly see Myruva move. A flash of silver, a rush of air; that’s all it takes. The knight’s head falls from his shoulders, and his body sinks to the ground soon after. The others begin to scream and scatter, but they’ll never get away. There’s no outrunning a unicorn. 

Laying there upon the stone, you see everything. Prey fleeing and predator giving chase. Swords clashing. Flesh pierced and mangled. Myurva tramples one of them, snaps the man’s ribs with glee in his shining eyes. Their armor does nothing but trap them in slow, awkward shells, easy prey to catch and dismantle. The unicorn moves like a whirlwind across the meadow, death his shadow. Blood soaks the soil and splatters the flowers, almost black in the night. 

You’re on your knees when it’s over, hunched over the stone with your legs in the grass. You can’t stand. You can’t run. You can’t do anything but turn and see Myurva standing there, fresh blood dripping from his swords. He smiles at the sight of you, the shivers wracking your body. “You didn’t know,” he assures you. “I can read you, remember?” He wipes the blood from his blades, sheathing them at his side once again. You flinch when he comes closer, sitting in the grass beside you. You smell the carnage on him. The fingers that tuck your hair behind your ear are wet and warm. “Pleased to meet you,” he purrs. “I’m Myurva, the royal spymaster. And you are the loveliest little human I’ve ever seen.”

You protest weakly when he scoops you up in his arms, standing suddenly. You’re vaguely aware of moving, of being carried somewhere. You fight to cling to consciousness, but it’s slowly slipping out of your grasp. “Hush,” Myurva coos, kissing your forehead. “We’ve a long ways to go and you’re in no condition to ride me just yet. But, eventually…” He chuckles, one of his hands cupping your backside. “Eventually, we’ll have all the time in the world to do whatever we like, won’t we?”

[forever-rogue]

Of Princes & Berries - Part 2

A/N: Thank you guys for all the support on part 1, I’m so glad you guys liked it! Oberyn has my heart, always.  As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know! xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: depictions of violence, overall :( (don’t hate me)

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Your room was small. Sparsely decorated with the few items you had, and a bed pushed into the corner near the small window you had in order to soak up as much sun as possible. You always liked the sun, how it warmed up your face and seemed to set your whole on fire. Growing up as a young girl in the Reach, you'd spent many afternoons lazing about in the sun, soaking it all up. Now, as a woman grown, it was hard to find any light in the cold, stone walls of the Red Keep. Now it seemed like an endless monotony of gray and beige.

But ever since Oberyn and his Dornish envoy had arrived, everything has seemed lighter, happier, more sunny. You vowed to try and soak up as much of the sun as possible, even if it was only temporary. Sitting down on your bed, you kicked off your shoes and let out a long sigh as you stretched your tired limbs. You had been kept busy all afternoon, fulfilling all sorts of menial tasks that been found for you, no doubt due to Cersei. For some reason tending to the sows and roosters and sheep had suddenly become your duty. You had no doubt it was to keep you away from the main part of the castle, and hide you away from your new friend, the prince.

You’d decided that you’d try and steal a quick bath before changing into your other set of clothes and heading down to grab some dinner from the kitchens. By then it would be nightfall and if you were lucky, you’d be left alone and have some time to yourself. You’d acquired a new book recently, and were eager to crack into it. When you’d spotted the beautiful leather bound book abandoned in a quiet section of the castle, you’d taken it, hiding it under your skirts. You were one of the few servants that could read, a gift bestowed upon you from Elia Martell herself. She’d always treated you with such warmth and generosity; it was such a far cry from Cersei and how the Lannisters ran things. 

As you reached for your clean clothes and a makeshift towel to dry yourself off with, a loud knock came at your door. It was so loud, it startled you, causing the clothes to tumble to the floor. Groaning you picked them up, and set them on your bed, rushing to open the door before the person on the other side grew more agitated. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” you squeaked as you pulled open the door, eyes widening in surprise when you realized who it was. Cersei stood on the other side with a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you spied the large, ornate bowl she was carrying in her arms. It looked to be filled with...berries. You gave her a curtsy before meeting her eyes; they always seemed angry and hateful, and whatever expression she tried to convey never quite reached them, “y-your Grace. What can I do for you?”

“Oh no,” her voice was pitched an octave and you could see she was refraining from expressing her true feelings, “it appears I am here to do something for you. Can you believe that? The Queen doing the bidding of a pauper prince and delivering something to a servant girl.”

“I-I don’t understand, your Grace,” you shook your head and took a step back, hoping she wouldn’t reach out and strike you. She’d had a period where she had been prone to that, slapping anyone who dared to question so much as a word she said. Luckily, it had been a while since you had personally faced her wrath. Something deep within you told that your time of smooth sailing was quickly coming to an end. 

“These,” she displayed the ornately carved bowl towards you and you could tell that it was teeming with all of Oberyn’s beloved berries, “are for you. From the Prince himself. He asked me, personally, to ensure that you receive them.”

“I had no clue he would do that,” you stuttered, backing further into your room, Cersei following you inside, “I-I’m sorry, your Grace. He must not be thinking clearly. I-I didn’t ask-”

“Hmm,” she reached a few hand up and trailed it along your jaw before touching a lock of your beautiful hair. You gnawed on your bottom lip as you tried to stop yourself from crying, feeling the familiar sting welling up at the back of your eyes, “I’m sure you didn’t, you filthy little whore.”

Her words cut you almost as much as her hand as she slapped you across the face with fury. You clutched the spot, already sore, and surely red as she pushed past you and leaned against your window. Wiping away the few tears that had rolled down your cheeks, you almost whimpered, “your Grace, I’ve done nothing...I don’t why-”

“Such a shame,” she said softly as she took the bowl and dumped the fresh fruit out of the window, letting them land on the ground outside. You made a small, pathetic sound as you watched a wicked smile cross her face, “all that exquisite fruit wasted. You should be more careful next time. If the prince were to find out I’m sure his spirits would be crushed. He had these brought in, just for you.”

“Your Grace-”

“And this lovely bowl,” she traced her long fingers over the carvings, “all the way from Dorne. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

You weren’t sure how to answer her. Whatever answer you provided her with would be the wrong one. On the one hand you could agree with her, after which she'd accuse you of being nothing more than a whore and confirming her suspicions. If you disagreed, she'd just call you a liar and somehow still make you the guilty party.

You remained silent as you looked at her wide eyes, cheek still stinging and burning. It would surely leave a mark for everyone to see in the coming days.

"No answer?" she mocked you, her voice a cruel sneer, "what a pity. I think it's quite beautiful despite being made by Dornish savages. But I suppose none of that matters."

Before you could open your mouth to speak again, Cersei took the bowl and smashed it on the floor. You watched in horror as the it shattered into a million tiny pieces, scattering all over the floor.

"Oh dear," she pretended to be shocked as you sank to your knees and tried to grab at the pieces, trying in vain to gather each little bit, "you should be more careful, silly girl. I wonder how the prince will feel when I tell him not only did you refuse his gift, you destroyed it all."

You looked up at her with teary eyes, still trying to scrounge up the pieces, feeling them leave little cuts in all over your fingers. You wanted to scream at her, to tell her she was a horrible person, but you refrained. Either you held your tongue or faced life locked away, or if she was feeling particularly cruel, death.

"Clean this mess up," she hissed through gritted teeth, "and then yourself, you smell like shit. And no supper for tonight."

You didn't even bother to say anything as she swept past you, her long skirts dispersing the mess further. Your warm tears mixed in with the little bits of brilliant red blood that had bubbled up on your fingers.

"If I ever see you near Oberyn Martell again," she said softly, "I will have you hanged. Remember your place - you're just a servant, you are no one."

Without another word she walked out and slammed the door loudly behind her. Listening to her treating footsteps for a moment, only when you were sure it was all clear did you allow yourself to fully collapse on the cold, stone floor, openly weeping by now.

But you kept at it, picking up each tiny shard until you had them all on the blanket of your bed. It was long dark now, only the glittering of the lamps outside casting a small glow in your room. People were still outside, even at this hour, feasting and drinking, and having a joyous time. And here you were, alone, hungry, and crying. All because you had a few conversations with someone that didn't treat you like the kitchen scraps. All because someone treated you with kindness.

You wondered where he was now. You hoped he was happy. You hoped he was having a good time with his friends. You hoped he would somehow know what happened and that you would never have acted in such a horrible manner.

By the time you were finished, it was late and there was nothing to keep you company except the inky blue sky, littered with glittering stars, casting the ghost of light throughout the Red Keep. You stood up, finally, and grabbed the your change of clothing, quietly heading out of the room to go to the washroom designated for servants. 

You were fortunate that you going yourself alone, letting yourself cry, deciding that you were going to allow yourself to wallow and feel sorry for this evening and this evening only. Tomorrow you would be steel; cold, quiet, emotionless.

Heating up water, you made it as scalding as possible, slowly stripping off your clothes and allowing yourself a peek at your reflection in the aging looking glass. Once you studied your face, eyes red and swollen with tears, and a large red welt across your cheek, you grew annoyed and covered up your reflection with your dirtied dress. Stepping into the scalding water, you hissed when it burned your skin, especially that of the cut flesh of your hands, but pushed through, telling yourself that it didn't matter, nothing matter. But you still found it around to remind yourself of that. It was hard to feel like no one when he had made you feel like someone.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next couple of days, you were, once again, resigned to the dirty jobs throughout the castle. Jobs normally left for the men or the stable boys. You knew Cersei was waiting for you to come or make some sort of remark, but you remained silent and went about your duties without a single word. You didn't even appear at meals; at the end of each day you returned to your room, sitting there silently as the sun went down, and slumber took over. The welt on your face has turned into brilliant shades of blues and purples, but no bothered to ask what happened. No one had to.

By the third day, you had gotten into a rhythm and finished your daily tasks early, just as the sun was setting. Instead of going in search of dinner or retiring to your room, you decided to head to the seaside. If nothing else, it would serve to hopefully instill a bit of peace within you. Plopping down on the soft ground, you kicked off your shoes and sat your feet in the sand, raking your fingers through it, as a long tired sigh escaped your lips. The sound of the soft waves was soothing to your ears, along with the chirp of the birds flying overhead. For the first time in days, you felt somewhat normal, as you watched the sun sink over the horizon.

"It's quiet out here," the warm, velvety voice surprised you, but despite never having much of a conversation with her, you immediately realized who it was, "such a welcome change from the mess of King's Landing."

"Lady Ellaria," you turned and gave the stunning woman a small smile as she sat down next to you. It was hard not to stare at her; she was like a goddess incarnate. You could see why Oberyn was so taken with her.

"I am no lady," she insisted with a small smile as she picked up a handful of sand and let it run through her fingers, " unlike you, Y/N Hunziker."

You stiffened at the sound of your familial name, the one you had disowned all those years ago when you had left to find for yourself in King's Landing.

"I don't use that name," you said quietly, pointedly looking anywhere but her face, "and I'd prefer it if you didn't either. I don't know how you found out who I am and I don't care, but I go by Flowers now."

"Why do you choose to go by a name reserved for a bastard when you are not one?"

"I am no one," you shrugged lightly, looking away and studying the ebb and flow of the low tide.

"You've been absent for a few days," she pointed out as you stood up and brushed off your skirt. You were about to reach for your shoes, but she was faster, taking them and clutching them to her chest, "I've noticed. So has Oberyn. He has grown concerned."

"He has no reason to worry," you lied as you tried to keep from crying and breaking down in front of her. Your heart ached at the thought that he not only noticed your absence, but mourned it. You reached for your shoes but she refused to hand them over.

"Where have you been, sweet girl?" she asked gently as she handed your shoes over. You had inadvertently brushed your hair back, exposing your face to her. Her dark eyes immediately raked over the mark on your face, widening in surprise. Realizing your mistake, you quickly grabbed your shoes, covering your face with hair again. The angry red marks littering your hands and wrists were not lost on her, "Y/N?"

"I've been nowhere," you said quietly, as you started to walk away, "being no one."

»»————-　♡　————-««

You'd promised yourself you wouldn't cry anymore. That you wouldn't allow yourself to be weak and vulnerable. But once you found yourself back in your quarters you flopped face down in your bed and let the tears flow freely. You'd made one friend, two if you counted Ellaria, but you were destined to be kept apart all because of birth, because of a name, a family. And he cared about you; at least enough to express concern to his lover. Who had sought you out in return.

And so you wept. And wept. And wept. Until your tears had run dry, until your throat was sore and you had a headache. But before you could try and get some relief through sleep, another loud knock came at your door. Your anxiety only increased as came to the conclusion that it could only be Cersei coming to berate you further. Practically dashing to the door you pulled it open without hesitation, dropping it into a deep curtsy, "your Grace."

"Stand up, sweet girl, there is no need for the formality," but it wasn't Cersei's voice that met your ears. No, this one was much more inviting and pleasant - musical. You quickly stood up to your full height, scanning over Oberyn and quickly meeting his dark eyes; they were filled with concern.

He gently reached up to touch your face, but you flinched out of his touch. When he tried to stop you, he had reached for your hands, but tensed up at the feeling of your marred skin. Letting out a small sound of surprise, he took your hands in his much larger ones and examined delicately, a look of anger crossing his handsome features. You didn’t even know how he had managed to find you, to find your quarters hidden deep within the hallowed halls. Ellaria had no doubt told him what she had witnessed, which caused to break and pursue you. 

Pulling your hands out of his, you took a step back and studied your feet; you wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth, to tell him what had happened. But you refrained, afraid of what would happen to yourself, and Oberyn, if he was seen speaking to you.

“What happened to you? Who did this?” there was a dangerous edge to his voice, his heart plummeting to his stomach at your recoil.

“I-it’s nothing,” you lied quickly, “you should go. You can’t be seen here.”

“And why not?”

“Because it is improper,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “a prince should not be consorting with a servant.”

“Oh my sweet girl,” his voice softened and was enough to make you want to throw yourself into his arms, “who told you this? What happened?”

“I’m only telling you what’s right...what’s proper,” you allowed yourself to meet his gaze, but regretted your decision as he scanned your face, intently studying the painful looking welt, “I must remember my place. I am no one, and you are...a prince of Dorne.”

“Did Cersei do this to you?” of course it didn’t take long for him to put two and two together. He remembered how Cersei had acted when she had seen the two of you in the gardens. A bout of rage soared through every fiber of beginning as he imagined her inflicted this sort of pain upon you, “did that vile, wretched woman touch you?”

You didn’t confirm or deny anything, opting instead for silence, which served as an answer to his question anyway. He let out a long sigh, his gaze never leaving yours as tried your best not to cry anymore, “you need to leave, Oberyn. Please.”

“Did she...” he trailed off, running a hand over his face in exasperation, “did she bring you my gift?”

You didn’t know why you decided to lie, but you weren’t just honest with him. Letting out a shaky breath, your voice shooting up an octave, “yes...and I disposed of it. It’s not proper for you to be giving me anything. The Queen kindly reminded me of that.”

His nostrils flared as his eyes flicked across the room as he spotted the shards from the bowl you had collected. He knew you would never, ever do something like that. This was all Cersei’s doing, that much was evident. Oberyn put his large hands on either side of your face, gently as possible to prevent hurting you further, and forced you to look at him, “Cersei did this, didn’t she?”

You remained silent, unable to stop a few tears from rolling down your cheeks. Oberyn swiped them away, his heart breaking at the sight, “please, Oberyn, you need to leave.”

“Tell me,” he insisted firmly, “tell me exactly what happened. Please, my sweet girl, just tell me.”

“Nothing happened,” you lied directly to him, finding it both harder, and easier, than you thought, “the queen brought your gift to me and I refused it, at her suggestion.”

“Y/N-”

“I got rid of the berries,” your voice shook a little, “and I broke the bowl.”

“You did all this?”

“Yes,” your lip trembled as you hoped he would realize you were lying, able to red between the lines. You knew he would; he already knew the truth without even hearing it from your lips, “I did this.”

He hesitated slightly, how own hands shaking slightly before he pulled close to him, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead. How you wished you could give into him, to let yourself be completely free with him, but you knew, deep inside that it wasn’t an option. It would never be an option.

“You really want me to believe you did all of that,” Oberyn was quiet and gentle as he tried to convey to you that it would be okay. He silently vowed that he would protect, no matter what that meant. He was the Red Viper for a reason after all. He gestured to your hands and face, “and that you did that to yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Are you scared?” his voice dropped to a low whisper so the question was barely audible, even to you.

“Yes.”

He nodded as he pulled back from you, a torn look on his face as he tried to decided what to do. He could have easily found Cersei and extracted his revenge, but he decided that was too rash. But he would do something, anything, to keep you safe and sound. That much he already knew.

“Oh, my sweet girl...”

“You need to leave, your highness,” you pulled back and turned around so you were no longer facing him, “and make sure you aren’t seen. You can’t come back here...we can’t see each other anymore, while you are here.”

“Why?” he asked softly, and you wished you could get him to see why this was a bad idea in so many aspects, “tell me one good reason.”

“Because I am no one.”

“And you do not want to see me again?”

“Yes, your highness,” you lied, as you stared out the window, at the sky which seemed to contain no stars on this horrible evening. You covered your face as you wept, Oberyn watching slightly as your shoulders shake with your tears, “that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[krypticss]

FIVE DAYS — Hvitserk.

Hvitserk x Reader

PROMPT: 12.  “I feel sick… so anxious and sick and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.”

SUMMARY: The reader goes missing after they raid York.

WORDS: 1.845

WARNINGS: none?

“I feel sick… so anxious and sick and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.”

It had been five days since the Vikings invaded York. Five days since their conquest had gone as smoothly and as gratifying as it could possibly have.

Five days since anyone had seen you. Hvitserk had walked day and night, through every inch of the town, looked through every house and under every block of stone. You were nowhere to be found. Before you left Kattegat, a feeling haunted him, something dark and filled with sorrow. He should not have let you come, he knew it in his gut.

“Brother,” Ivar wiped his lips of the remnants of ale, “had something happened to her, we would have found her body. It’s (Y/N), she is fine.”

Hvitserk’s leg bounced up and down, his hands passed down his face. The plate in front of him was untouched, he found no appetite in himself.

“Eat. You will feel better.”

The plate flew to the nearest wall as Hvitserk hurled it with all his strength. His body burned with the frustration, nothing would simmer down the fire in his eyes. The words spat from his mouth before they could be contained, “I don’t want to eat, I want to find (Y/N).”

His brother was unbothered by the petty behavior. Hvitserk might have been the oldest, but he rarely acted as such. Ivar shrugged.

“Don’t eat, then.”

He huffed, and paced around the old church. Ivar was insufferable. He didn’t understand. How could he? He didn’t know what if felt like to love you. To have your bare skin pressed against his chest as he laid kisses on your head. To feel your smile intoxicate his being to the bone.

To not have you by his side was waking up to a morning without the sun.

Hvitserk would rather face an army on his own than to bear the thought of you joining the gods so soon. You could not go to Valhalla. Not yet. He wouldn’t allow it.

“We must gather the men and search for her.”

Ivar contained his laugh, but the taunting smirk remained on his face, “You would have us leave York?”

“Some of us.”

“You see, brother, this is why I am in charge.”

“Don’t push me, Ivar.” He warned.

Ivar might underestimate him, treat him like waste, but he could never forget, Hvitserk was more than capable of unleashing chaos and walking out unharmed. He was still a son of Ragnar, after all.

“Two men will accompany you. Don’t wander off too far.”

Hvitserk’s jaw clenched tight, it was not what he had in mind. If it was up to him, he would have half the town looking for you. He nodded, nonetheless.

“Good.” Ivar smiled and sipped on his drink. Hvitserk was ready to leave the church, the confined space had become enough to suffocate him breathless, much more with his little brother around. As he opened the grand doors, Ivar called out to him, “She would be disappointed.”

He was frozen in place. Fingers clasped the handle tight, nearly breaking his bones. Every breath became more rapid, every heartbeat echoed louder in his ears.

“All this time,” Ivar continued, “and you still underestimate her.”

Hvitserk made sure to slam the door behind him.

-----------------------------

The group had been on the road for three days when they came upon a small farm east of York. Hvitserk, a shieldmaiden and one of Ivar’s most trusted men. The sun had barely shone its rays in the sky. It was quiet. The cold breeze ruffled the tree branches above them. If they concentrated enough, the heavy waves could be heard as they crashed in the distance.

Hvitserk’s heart fluttered with hope. It was the only place that consisted of more than trees and dirt in miles. You had to be there. They rounded the farm with care, but no living soul was to be seen besides the sheep and cattle. At last, they checked the wooden hut, where the farm owners were likely to be asleep at such early hours.

With his axe in hand, he slowly opened the door. Its hinges creaked to announce their arrival, but the room remained still. It was empty. There was a door, left ajar. It led to the only other room of the house. Hvitserk approached it, his boots pressed hard against the floor with each step.

The door burst open once he was within reach, a round shield was thrown towards him. Hvitserk was barely fast enough to block the impact with his forearm. He did not bother to attack its owner, he recognized the familiar patterns of the paint that dried on it.

He had watched you paint the shield with delight. Your favorite part of fights and battles was not the thrill of violence, or the trial of skill. It was testing your weapons to their limits until they broke and you could improve them. And then, at last, decorate them. You loved painting your shields until they became uniquely yours. So your friends could find you miles away on the battlefield.

You were nothing like Hvitserk. The thrill he found in action, you found in watching. The love he found in talking, you found in listening. The two of you were not similar, and that’s why he loved you with all his heart. The broken pieces of you seemed to fit in each other with perfection.

“Stop! It’s me!” Hvitserk laughed as he blocked your blows. Joy consumed him, so much he could take on the whole of England right then and there.

You stopped your axe mid air and took the moment to analyze the man before you. Within the adrenaline, you had failed to recognize his voice, but the laughter was unmistakable. “Hvitserk!”

The axe and shield dropped to the ground and you threw your arms around his neck. Hvitserk held you tight, taking in the feeling of having you in his arms. The scent of your hair, your body warm against his.

“I thought I lost you,” He mumbled against your shoulder.

You pulled away from him with a frown but kept your bodies entwined. “Lost me? Why would you have lost me?”

“You disappeared, (Y/N),” He breathed, “I searched all of York, and I couldn’t find you. No one could find you.”

“During the raid, I saw a man leave the town with a child. She cried and screamed, and he dragged her with so little care, it felt… wrong.” You explained, your hands dropped from his neck and you sat at the table. “I followed them. When they got here I saw how he mistreated her and I intervened.”

“You killed him?”

“He attacked me first.” The words came out more aggressive then you had intended. “I waited for her mother to arrive, but she never came. I would ask the child, but… I do not understand a word she says.”

Hvitserk’s sigh was heavy with emotion he had to hold. “Have you stopped to think she might not have a mother? Or any other family? What will you do then?”

You bit your lip, “I will take care of her.”

“No, you will not.”

“Yes, I will.” You stood up, your lips pulled tight into a frown. One of the few similarities the both of you had, one could be just as headstrong as the other. Arguments turned into fights, and fights tended to not end well for either of you. “It is not your decision.”

His voice was low, his hands slid to your waist gently, “(Y/N), if you wish for a child, I will be more than happy, you know this. But not like this.”

But it wasn’t so easy. The gods knew you had tried, both intentionally and unintentionally, but there had never been a sign of you bearing a child. It vexed you. So much, your worst fight had been when Hvitserk suggested the possibility that, perhaps, you simply… couldn’t. It wasn’t unusual. You refused to accept it, but a part of you hung onto it, in the back of your mind. A poisonous seed among your thoughts that always told you it could be true.

“It’s not about that,” You shook your head, “I cannot leave her alone.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw the two warriors share a look as they fidgeted in the spot. Whatever they had been here for, it most certainly wasn’t to witness a couple arguing. Recomposing yourself, you cleared your throat.

“Forgive me,” you smoothed out the night gown you had been wearing, “You must be tired. There is ale on the jar, I will arrange a place for you to rest.”

Inside the bedroom, the little girl hid under the bed in fear. You gathered the furs you had been using for yourself and some clothes from her parents so you could make a decent bed for your companions. You set everyone in the main room of the house to not frighten the girl.

The sun was high in the sky as the two warriors slept. On the other side of the room, you and Hvitserk were still wide awake. His chest heaved up and down with each breath, his heartbeat faint as a dream against your head. Your thumb rubbed small circles on his arms, he was the most relaxed he had been the entire week. Even so, he couldn’t find it in himself to fall asleep. He finally had you in his arms, and he didn’t want to miss a second of it. He was afraid he would wake up and you wouldn’t be there anymore. Blown out of his reach like petal in the wind once again.

“Why did you come?” Your voice was a whisper, barely audible. But he heard you.

“I was worried about you.”

You lifted your head to rest your chin against his chest, “I can take care of myself, Hvitserk. This was a simple raid.”

His fingers played with your hair, he was lost in thought. He knew you like the back of his hand. You were a shieldmaiden. A viking, just as much as he was. Strong, determined, headstrong. Hvitserk also knew the other side of that. The adventurer, fearless free spirit. The part who would be the first to run to the top of a hill to find what was on the other side, whose curiosity could not be eased. It was not hard to believe that you ran from York without a note of warning. In fact, it sounded just like you, running to the rescue of the innocent.

“I know,” He pursed his lips, “when it concerns you, (Y/N), I tend to act by my heart, not my head.”

Your expression softened, “How could I ever blame you for that?”

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Sheepless Sheep Girl ~Yin Zhi x Reader

Yin Zhi, the 3rd Prince, was a mystery for everyone living in the Palace, no matter their age, gender or even if they were his own relatives. He was truly an enigma that, no matter how much you’d try to decipher, you couldn’t. He was unique, a thorough individualist, and all he’d ever want to do is practice archery, study, read diverse literature books and enjoy a secluded life somewhere beautiful, all alone...Or perhaps, with someone by his side to understand him...

But he’s a weirdo, by everyone’s stuck up and closed-minded views, so he doubts he’d ever find anyone to actually get him and who he is.

He’s the 3rd Prince, after all, and since the 1st Prince died young, and the Crown Prince is a fuckass that everyone hates, people look at him to take up the reigns and become the best candidate to lead.

What a joke.

He couldn’t care less about trivial things like these - Being an Emperor is too much hassle than it’s worth. Too many responsibilities, too many people to hear and please, and way too many women and heirs needed...Too much socialisation, too many voices, lies, gossips, snakes and threats to deprive him of the peaceful life he always dreamt of.

Life, however, is an unexpected turn of events, and what was supposed to be just some basic archery training in some far away forest, and somehow, he ended up heavily injured, his horse running away, and he was barely able to keep himself standing.

He was beginning to hate himself for not telling anyone - Not even his eunuch - About his adventurous trip, so nobody would be looking for him any time soon...And maybe, by the time he is found, he will already be animal food, or dead from this wound overbleeding.

Perhaps sleeping at the base of this old oak tree wouldn’t be such a bad idea...

When he next opened his eyes, however, instead of feeling the hard bark of the tree he was leaning on, he felt himself in a weirdly comfortable...Bed? This couldn’t be...How COULD this be?

He shot up in a wild panic, only to feel a pair of hands on his bare, bandaged chest, pushing him gently back down on the bed. It was a beautiful girl with a gentle, yet exhausted complexion, eyes resembling those of a baby fawn, sweet and wet, filled with a myriad of emotions, and her hair looked shiny, long, let down, reaching below the waist, mimicking a gorgeous cascade.

“Please, don’t move too much. Your injuries were pretty grave. I disinfected and stitched them while you were unconscious, dressed them and...You risk ripping them and overbleeding.” she explained, gently brushing her fingers through his hair, getting it away from his face. “Who are you...? And how did you find me?” Yin Zhi asked in a tired, hoarse voice. “I am just a sheep girl. I found you by the Oak tree when I went out looking for mushrooms. I couldn’t possibly let an injured being die out there, helpless, could I?” she spoke with an amused smile...Her voice was so light and warming...What was so different about this woman that made her stand out so much? She’s no noble lady, she’s just some...Sheep girl, living alone, in the middle of the woods. “And how can a Sheep Girl treat such life-threatening wounds anyway?” his sharp eyes peered into hers, analysing her every single move and reaction. “My parents and I used to be the village’s physicians, so any little health issue would come our way. I may be young, but I have enough experience to treat such basic wounds like yours.” she got up, putting some more wood into the heater and stirring into the pot on the oven a few more times, she put stew in a bowl and taking a spoon, came back to sit by his side. “Then why do you live so far away from the village?” he murmured, getting in a sitting position with the help of the girl. “My...My parents died because of a new disease that struck the village. Many died...And while in that terrible state, my parents begged me to experiment on them to find an antidote...Which I did. It’s just...I got blamed for the deaths, so I was shunned. And here I am. Living out here, away from any problem, worry and annoying, stuck up people.” she shrugged simply, clearly used to the idea and the tragedy that befell her. “I see. I’m sorry to hear that.” the prince muttered, not knowing what to say in such a situation. “Don’t be. That’s how life is...Although, sometimes I miss socialising with actual people, not just with sheep.” she chuckled awkwardly, looking away. “It’s a peaceful place you’ve got here. I wish I could live in a secluded place, away from all the nosy and incompetent people out there.” Yin Zhi spoke out, almost without realising. “Would you mind sharing your story with someone you’ll never meet again, stranger whose name I don’t know?” she took the bowl away from him as soon as he finished eating. “Only if you vow to treat me the same as before.” his look changed into one of warning, but she was not intimidated in the least. “I’ve been away from socialising for a long time. Forgive my lack of manners, but I’ll behave with you the same way no matter the status you hold.” she shot right back, which made him smirk in delight. “My name is Yin Zhi, the Emperor’s 3rd Prince. And what is yours, mysterious physician?” he asked, waiting to hear the name of the brilliant woman taking care of him. “Y/N. Nice to meet you, Yin Zhi.”

Due to the gravity of the injuries, he had to stay for two weeks to recover, and in this time, he was able to discover who this girl really was, from her kindness, to her intelligence, her points of view, her choices in books, in literature, how versed she in sciences, in herbalism and many more.

Not to mention, despite his amusement about the 3 animals, grew fond of the family of sheep. Only one ram, one sheep, and a little lamb, all the named after her and her family.  The lamb, especially, was incredibly playful and affectionate with him, and would always try to stay around him, poking his cheeks with her wet nose, jumping on his lap, running around his legs and many more, which, for some reason, amused the man greatly.

He had so much to learn from this lone woman - In fact, so much more than many of the scholars, teachers, physicians and eunuchs in the Palace could offer him - And so, he didn’t think of his hunting accident as a misfortune, but as as grace from fate.

These two weeks in this place were truly all he ever dreamt of, and more, should he not have been in pain from his wounds, but by now, he was fully recovered, and as a thank you, he properly taught her how to use a bow and arrow, to protect herself and her sheep family from any potential predators, and more, he helped her build a better shelter for them.

However, like all beautiful dreams, one must wake up, and thus, he was forced to return to the Palace, with the promise of visiting again, and also, to help her with anything she needed, no matter the cost.

Yin Zhi cursed how dull Palace life was, and truly, he felt more all here, constantly surrounded by thousands of people, than away n the woods, with Y/N, so he did what he always did to escape reality - Succumb himself into studying and reading, and clearly, staying as far away from people as possible.

Days passed, then weeks, months, and his mind kept flying off to that great, peaceful time when he was all alone, just with her, some animals, away into the forest, and he could read at leisure without being interrupted by these annoying pests.

He almost wasn’t sure how much time passed, until he received a letter from his trusted Eunuch, from someone calling themselves “The Sheepless Sheep Girl” and worry started harbouring in his heart, as he began reading her words.

As stated, some thieves came by while she was away, picking berries from the forest, and killed her sheep, destroyed the crops and stole everything she had, and now she’s helpless, scared and has no clue what to do.

Darkness and anger flooded him for the first time in ages, realising that, to save her, he needed to get her into the Palace, maybe saying she was his new Head Maiden... What a difficult situation they both found themselves into.

Well, why should he care what anyone else thinks, anyway? He’s not going to be an Emperor, so he doesn’t need to be surrounded by concubines, consorts and whatever other useless women or different statuses and ranks that they did nothing to earn, so why shouldn’t she just be given the title of Imperial Physician?...HIS Personal, Imperial Physician?

Sure, only men have the privilege of having this title given, but she’s talented, well-versed and knowledgeable, so there’s no reason why she shouldn’t be able to be HIS Physician, right? She already saved him once, anyway. It’s not like the Emperor could deny or complain about it, considering he never asked for anything, and used his own power and knowledge to achieve everything he wanted.

She won’t even have to leave his Palace, if she doesn’t want to. She is a timid little doe who has no idea of Palace mannerisms, or how cruel everyone in this forsaken place is, and truly, the last thing he wants is to break her soul and taint her bright innocence and purity with the evil hanging around this polluted air.

Nonetheless, she needed to be taken care of, and so she will be, under his wing, without anyone interfering.

As soon as he got back to her place, Yin Zhi noticed how the house was in a terrible state, and she...Her face...It was obvious that she was exhausted. She was barely able to keep herself standing, she was weak, and her face was pink from the crying... This deteriorated state of her made his own heart ache, and that’s when he realised that he wanted nothing more than to protect her and her precious smile. He wanted her happy, by his side. It didn’t matter if she loved him or not, he just wanted her to shine brightly again, just as before.

He had his Eunuch find the best maid for her to attend her every need, and he found some petite girl called Shi Lian, with a soft voice, but very friendly, and with that, at least, he was content.

“Thank you...You did more than I asked you to...How can I ever repay you, Your Grace?” Y/N bowed her head down, speaking in a broken voice, almost as if feeling herself unworthy to be looked at by someone like him. “First of all, never call me that again. It’s only my name, for you, understood? Secondly, look at me, just like you used to. I won’t allow anything bad to come upon you ever again, I promise you. You saved me once...Let me save you now, Y/N.” he extended his hand for her to hold, as a way of asking if she trusts him. “...If it’s not asking for too much...Please take care of me, Yin Zhi. I trust you.” she gingerly held his hand in both of hers, raising it to her face, placing a soft kiss as a thank you. He realised that, compared to all the women in the Palace, her hands weren’t as soft and delicate, but more on the rough said, from all the hard work she had to put into taking care of herself. That’s a truly reliable woman, he thought, as he vowed to make sure she’s pampered at all times. “Anything for you.” his voice came barely above a whisper as he kissed her forehead, hoping she wouldn’t hear his heart’s confession...And yet, the soft blush on her face proved otherwise.

With each day passing, he could see her skin glowing, her eyes sparkling with life whenever she’d lay down at the base of the willow next to the pond as she would read one of the books he had in his library, her smile, dazzling as before, whenever some stray cat would get in his Palace garden and she would play with it, feed it, and somehow end up adopting it...Them...For there were many cats now in his garden, but it’s not like he could complain. He wasn’t the one doing the cleaning in his Palace, and he was content enough with seeing her happy.

She would sometimes play the flute while he was reading outside, or would pick up flowers from the field and make flower crowns for her and Shi Lian...And yet, on one occasion, she put one on his head while he was too absorbed in his reading to notice.

She wasn’t afraid to ask him for help to understand things she didn’t know from books he had that she wasn’t familiar with, and somehow, he never felt irritated by her - In fact, he actually felt his heart warm whenever he had to explain things to her - And the same went the other way around, when it came to science.

Not to mention how thrilled she was when she found out she was allowed to be a physician once again, just like long ago, and even more, she was bold enough to throw her arms around him, pulling him into a hug, that shocked him beyond belief.

And so, one day, when he came home, he brought a little gift for her... A little lamb that he named after her, to remind her of her little sheep family from before.

It made Y/N laugh with happy tears in her eyes, as she started playing around and cuddling the little lamb, even going as far as to let the baby lamb sleep in her own bed with her, and truly, Yin Zhi didn’t think it could get any better.

His life was finally beginning to shift in the right direction, the one he’s always dreamt of...Especially after one night, she lead him up the hill to watch the beautiful moon and the fireflies, holding hands as they lay on the soft grass and observing the stars, pointing out constellations, telling little legends, myths and stories about random things. He couldn’t help but admire her beauty highlighted by the silver light of Mother Moon, and how she looked like a dryad in that flowy, light green dress, and the fact that she looked ethereal without having to wear make up truly made it obvious how she was above them all without even trying.

For the first time in his life he felt completely enamoured, his heart was captured by this unique woman and he couldn’t help but put his hands on her delicate cheeks and kiss her pink lips that resembled the petals of the softest, most beautiful rose. He was never interested in love or women, he preferred to enrich his boundaries and knowledge, but this one...This one was truly something else. She was special, and he was making him feel special without even trying.

There was no doubt about it - She was truly the one. 

And he couldn’t be happier.

It felt like he was living in a fairy tale, the Prince and the Princess, having their happily ever after.

But like any fairy tale, there must always be something bad happening to the Princess.

He wasn’t expecting anything like that to happen - He was sure she barely left his Palace and nobody held any grudge against her. It’s not like she was trying to get up the ranks, or get the Emperor’s favour, she was just a simple girl enjoying the simple life he was offering her.

As he got back home, pissed off for having had to meet up with a neighbouring Princess for the 10th time this week, or, rather said, her father alone, for some reason - Princess that the Empress wanted him to marry, he got in the house, expecting to be greeted by his brilliant lover and her little lamb, or her adopted cats and dogs...But he wasn’t. Instead, he was greeted by a trail of blood that led out in the garden, and to his horror, the girl he held so dear to his heart was sprawled on the ground, he arm extended towards the pond water...

He ran to her, held her in his arms, checking for a pulse, that was faint, but at least there, so yelling for his Eunuch to call for the Imperial Physician, he was able to pronounce that she was poisoned, based on the tea served in the Palace’s tea house, and now, the question came - Who poisoned her?

Of course, the main suspect was her Handmaid, poor Shi Lian, but something in his gut told him that this girl was innocent. Perhaps he wanted to trust her innocence, for it resembled that of Y/N, or maybe he just wanted to trust Y/N’s own trust in her.

Every day and every night, he would be restless, unable to sleep, so he would hold her hand, caressing it, kissing it, kissing her forehead, wiping away the sweat from her face, making sure she’s comfortable, despite the state of agony her unconscious self is in.

“Ricin...” Yin Zhi heard a soft, barely audible voice, struggling to mumble coherently. “Ricin?” he asked again, louder and clear, hoping he didn’t mishear or hallucinate. “Nails...Tea...” she continued, as tears kept streaming down her face, as she was finally able to open her eyes, her breath ragged, as she was fighting with her own body to keep herself awake and coherent. “Ricin...Nails...Tea...So the culprit put Ricin poison in your tea...With their nails? Does that mean it was Ricin powder hidden in their nails, so when they went to help prepare the tea, they mixed it in your cup, correct?” he asked, hoping for an affirmative answer, which is confirmed with a slow nod. “Who was it, darling? Do you remember? A name, a gender, some distinguishing appearance traits?” he pressed again, feeling adrenaline surge through his veins. “Princess...Jealous...Yin Zhi...” she started coughing blood again, clinging on his arm to keep herself grounded, as he helped her drink a glass of water. “A jealous Princess...I know just who you are talking to. Don’t worry, darling, I will solve this and make sure she pays for her sins. Nobody dares harm my beloved dove and gets away with this.” it was obvious he was angry, and rightfully so, and yet, she held onto his arm, not wanting him to leave. “Don’t go...Please...” she whispered, looking up at him with tired, fawn eyes, that melted his rage away. “I will be here until you fall asleep, my dear. I promise.” he kissed her softly, and stroked her hair until she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

He had to deal with this bitch Princess, but he couldn’t just rat her out without being petty and have his revenge. He had to get his physician to prove she had ricin powder in her nails. He could only guess it must have been in her pockets, because a sachet would have been too obvious, so with more help from his darling Y/N, he found out she was wearing a yellow and pink dress with only one pocket on the right, so with the help of his spies, he stole that dress, and his physician found the powder right there.

He won, once again.

And now, it was time for the grand finale, before this stupid Princess would leave. He was going to marry Y/N even if it was the last thing he’d ever do in his life, no matter how angry and disapproving his father would be, or how much the Empress would be against it, since the Princess is from her own family.

So, as soon as Y/N was back in full health again, and discussed things with her, so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable or surprised at what was going to happen, and so, he took her with him in front of the Emperor and the Empress, along with the Princess and her father, to present his case.

��The 3rd Prince summoned us here for a reason, correct? It is not often that you choose to be surrounded by so many people.” the Empress pointed out with a pleased expression, thinking she knew what was going on. “Your Highness, the Empress chose Princess Ruong Xian to be my bride, for she is of noble birth...Her own bloodline. I do not doubt that she is a capable woman with many attributes...One of this attributes being poisoning and deceiving a harmless, innocent woman, because of her burning jealousy. I do not think someone like her should be the wife of the Emperor’s son.” his voice was as cold and harsh as usual, despite his politeness, which created chaos among everyone. “Poison?! Me?! How DARE you accuse me of something so vile? I’m a woman, I do not study plants and poisons, that’s the work of a physician! And what do I have to be jealous of? This ugly, no name who’s nothing more than a hand maid? She has no way of competing with me!” the Princess’ passive voice twisted into a hideous glare, pointing accusatory at the sheep girl who was awkwardly standing right behind him, fidgeting with her fingers and looking down as to not attract too much attention to herself...More than she already did, that is. “My son, that is a grave accusation you are telling us. Knowing you, however, I do believe you have some kind of proof to prove it. I am listening.” the Emperor spoke calmly, knowing very well to trust his intelligent son who never crosses boundaries, breaks rules or does things for the sake of it. “Physician Li, bring forth the dress. Father, this woman I brought home, Y/N, was poisoned recently, and it was proved that the poison was in the tea. Ricin powder. Barely detectable, unless you are incredibly knowledgeable and used to working with plants and medicine, like Y/N, who was brought up in a Physician home, and continued the tradition. The only way Ricin powder could have been put in her tea was through powder brought on her nails, most likely brought in a pocket, for a pouch would be too obvious.” Yin Zhi explained the theory, which made both the Princess and her father yell at him for the disrespect brought. “You have no proof, 3rd Prince! How dare you accuse my daughter of something so evil? You are tarnishing not only our name, but the Empress’ as well!” her father scowled at him, and he could only give him a cocky smirk. “Your Highness, this dress is the one the Princess wore on the day of the poisoning. If we get it inside out, we can still see some powder inside, that on further examining, proved to be ricin powder, which completely proves the theory the Prince explained.” the physician spoke out, showing everyone the proof, and suddenly, the Palace of Mental Cultivation became quiet as a graveyard. “To think that the Empress’ own blood would dare do such criminal acts in my own palace! This woman, Y/N, has been nothing but helpful for the kingdom and our Imperial Physicians, and you dared attempt to kill her? That simply cannot go unpunished! Guards! Take the Princess and her Father to the Hard Labour Camp and give them 50 canes!” the Emperor rose from his throne, his voice loud and angry, not even blinking from the bloodcurling pitched shrieks of the Princess that were imploring the Prince to save her, nor of her father’s. “Yin Zhi! My darling, please, save me! Please, my beloved! You deserve someone pretty! Someone of high rank! Not some filthy shepard girl! Yin Zhi! My Prince! Please, have mercy! Pleaseeee!” she kept shrieking as she was dragged away, only for the Prince to not even spare her another chance. “As sharp and intuitive as always, my son. I’m proud of you and your choices. I am sure you would make for a great Emperor someday...And yet, I know that is not your wish, nor ambition, unfortunately.” the old man’s voice became more fatherly and nostalgic as he looked at his son. “Father, I thank you for your praises, but I am undeserving. I will be forever grateful for you accepting my decisions, and I hope today you will stand by it once again, for I want to marry Y/N. I know she’s of no royal blood, but since I won’t be an Emperor, I believe she would be the best person for this Kingdom. She is kind, incredibly smart, studies all the time, is well-versed in multiple subjects, including science, healing, poetry and music, she is altruistic and helpful to all people, and, as you said, she has been an incredible asset for the Physicians, and was the one to realise it was ricin powder in her tea, even in her delusional fever-induced state. I only ask for your blessings, father, so please, take everything into consideration when you give your answer.” the Prince spoke up in a bold and firm voice, which made the girl standing next to him blush furiously, as she wasn’t used to so many compliments, as Yin Zhi was one to show his affections indirectly, most of the time, not through words, but with actions. “I see...I can see you are smitten with this girl, and rightfully so. I believe she truly is the perfect choice for you, but with her status, she cannot marry a prince.” the Emperor began, making his son frown, only for the man to continue speaking right away. “That is why, for the marriage to take place, I shall give Y/N the title of Lady Shuyu, the title given to Wise and Virtuous women of the Palace, and I will officially give her the post of the Chief Imperial Physician, specifically your personal Physician, my son. Is that to your liking?” the Emperor’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he saw both his son and the girl next to him looking at him with shock in their eyes. “Thank you so much for allowing our love to continue, Your Highness. You are most merciful and benevolent.” the girl immediately knelt, obviously bewildered at what just happened. “Thank you, Father. You have our eternal gratitude.” he couldn’t speak much from the shock, as he also knelt as a thank you. “You have my blessings, my children. You deserve to be happy.” he smiled kindly, seeing as the left the Palace, holding hands.

Out of the Palace, the girl jumped in his arms, as he held her tightly, kissing the top of her head, finally feeling content and at peace with what was going on. They could finally live together, without anyone daring to utter a word against her, or try to sabotage her. Their life together in partial solitude could finally be a dream come true, as they could have a little house somewhere in the woods, back there where she used to live, if they ever want to escape this royal chaos they had to live in, and even better, they could live with all the pets they wanted, go out together in the dark, watch the fireflies, go for a swim in the lake, read together, practice archery together, all while facing no scrutiny or complaint.

They could finally live the dream life their heart yearned for all this time.

[cagestark]

Tony/ofc pretty please? Iron Man helps out after an animal breakout at the Bronx Zoo, and a young zookeeper there wants to thank him for his services? ~@ironspiderstarker

I had so much fun, even if I know nothing about zookeeping or animals. Hope you can suspend your disbelief and enjoy this PWP!

About this: Tony/unnamed, undescribed OFC. Oral. 2.4 k. Nff.  -

In her office is their first face to face meeting. 

(Sure, she’d been among the six other employees called in at three in the morning during the worst snow-storm New York City had seen in the last ten years. They’d all met trundled up in their coats and hats and scarves and boots outside the gates, shivering when Iron-Man—Iron-Man! she thought to herself, breathless—appeared like a star in the sky, landing in front of them in a flash of burning thrusters. 

But then, when they’d met, it had been face-to-faceplate, and everyone (herself included) had been far more concerned about Lyuba.)

“Cat’s out of the bag, huh?” the suit had said, voice more mechanical than human. “Or cage, should I say. That’s a hell of a malfunction in your security system. Why can’t you tranq her?” 

“She’s pregnant,” another employee said. “Twin, male cubs. There are more people in a single city block here than there are Siberian Tigers left in the entire world—we can’t risk causing her or the pregnancy any harm.” 

“And we can’t risk our funding by reporting this,” someone muttered under their breath.

“I don’t know if you’ve seen the news, but I usually wrangle humans. Bad guys, specifically. I don’t think I’m qualified to cat-sit.”

He had been persuaded, though. They had huddled around each other watching on the surveillance cameras as he approached the tiger without fear, coaxing her back to the enclosure. They’d all let out cheers, breathless with relief. One after one, they had trickled out until only you remained in the office, watching over footage of Lyuba roaming the zoo. Then rewatching the footage of Iron-man shooing her along like a sheep-dog might his flock.

When the knock comes, she calls out a distracted, Come in, without thinking about how any other employee wouldn’t have bothered knocking. When she looks up from the footage, Tony Stark is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. A masked madman might have shocked her less—though it certainly wouldn’t have made her so breathless. 

The closest she’s ever been to a celebrity is walking past Matt Damon once two Christmas Eves ago. This kind of close contact is far different. Tony Stark is far different. He looks at her with the most clever eyes she’s ever seen. She can’t help but feel like he sees through her, into her. When he smiles, her knees press together underneath the desk. He looks even more handsome in person than on television. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, not looking sorry in the slightest. “I left my suit at the curb and running. But I figured this would only take a minute.” 

“I—sorry?”

He points to the computer you’re sitting at. “Whatever malfunctioned in your security system and opened the tiger enclosure? I figured I could lend a little expertise. Save me another midnight trip.” 

“Oh! Of course. Please—” 

Tony crosses the room with sure steps, and she scrambles up and aside to give him her seat. He brings with him the scent of expensive cologne, the kind with a name her lips are too clumsy to form. The smile he gives her is warm, lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Then he turns his eyes to the computer, fingers moving expertly across the keyboard. 

She can’t help but stand by him and watch while he works. 

“Thank you again for helping us with Lyuba,” she says. All the words come out in order—no small miracle with how nervous she is, with the way her hands are shaking. She clasps them together in her lap. “I spent the most time with the large cats. I was actually the first one that they called when she escaped. If anything had happened to her, it would have broken my heart.”

“Hey, what’s the use of a multi-million dollar, practically indestructible suit if I can’t use it to help round up wayward cats in my downtime? And you know, I think I see your problem here. Jesus, this program is outdated. I’m going to make a donation when the sun’s up. A big one. Splurge on something a little more twenty-first century. Off-topic question here—” she blinks when he turns to face her. God, his eyes are huge, dark as the whiskey she keeps in her freezer. “—what would you have done if I weren’t in Manhattan?” 

“Well,” she says. “I probably would have gone in after her. I don’t have a multi-million dollar indestructible suit, but I do have knucklebones.” 

“I’m sorry—?” 

“They’re her favorite treat.” 

“Ah,” Tony says. “Well. I’m not exactly comforted by your protective equipment being something that only makes you look like an even tastier treat to a protective tiger.”

“Needless to say, I am very, very grateful.” 

He laughs, a charming sound. This time when her knees clench together, it’s a visible motion, one that she catches his eyes flickering down to spot it. When he turns back towards the computer screen, it’s with a smirk. He wets his lips, and she wets her own in unconscious mirroring. 

“You’re welcome,” he says lowly. 

She swallows, grateful that he can’t see the way her pulse pounds, the temporary insanity inside her that makes the next statement pass her lips:  “Maybe I could—thank you properly.” 

For a moment, the meaning doesn’t dawn on him. He stares with an almost innocent openness. Then his eyes widen fractionally. “Ah—a generous offer. Not necessary though, I assure you.” 

“I—of course. Jesus. I shouldn’t have even—I’m not usually so—” 

“It’s fine,” he says, smiling. “Like I said, a very, very generous offer. But I’m not usually in the business of haranguing sexual favors as payment for being a good samaritan.” 

“I’m hardly feeling harangued,” she admits. “If you aren’t interested though, I understand.” 

“It’s not a lack of interest,” he says. “Trust me. But I have been making notable progress in being less of an asshole these last few years. It’s taken a lot of self-reflection and, full disclosure, plenty of therapy, and—” 

“And saving tigers.” 

“—that too. I—” His tirade cuts off when she slips from the stool down to kneel beside him in the cheap Ikea rolling chair he’s seated in. His throat bobs as he swallows, staring down at the sight of her. When she places one hand just above his knee, he lets out a long, audible breath into the quiet room. 

“If you really aren’t interested,” she says, voice trembling. “Now is the time to say something.” 

His head falls back to rest against the top of the chair while he looks upwards toward the fluorescent lights. Then his burning gaze is back on her, eyes serious and searching as they rake over her face. “You really want to do this?” 

If he were to put his hand between her legs, he’d have overwhelming physical evidence, but this is the last thing she feels brave enough to say. She’s already on her knees in front of Tony Stark himself. That fills her quota of bravery for the day. Instead, she just nods fervently. Whatever his last reservations were fall to the wayside. His hands fall to his belt buckle and her legs clench together at the sound. Worse than one of Pavlov’s dogs, she thinks. 

“This is what you wanted, right?” he asks, quiet while he pulls out his cock. He’s only half hard, but it’s impressive. All those nights she’d spent gossiping with girlfriends about how Tony Stark must be well hung, and now here is proof. Cut, thicker than she’s used to, and long, jerking under her gaze. When she glances back up at his eyes, she can see that he’s asked a question, but she’s already forgotten what it is. 

Instead, she leans forward, letting one hand press flat against the well-trimmed pubic hair to steady the base while her tongue laps at the head. He tastes clean, maybe a little soapy, like he’d rushed to shower before stepping into the Iron-man suit. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his hands tighten on the arms of the chair and considers that bolder encouragement than any spoken word. 

Pressing his cock upwards towards the band t-shirt he wears, she ducks down to lap at his balls, watching his face to assess his reactions. Judging by the way his eyes shut, full-mouth parting, this is something he likes. So she throws herself into it whole-heartedly, sucking one into her mouth and then giving attention to the other until Tony’s cock is full, silken, burning skin when she tilts her head to nuzzle against it. When she pulls back, she is pleased to see the way his chest heaves, the way precum pearls at the tip of his cock. 

When she leans in again to lap it away, Tony groans. 

“Jesus, your mouth,” he murmurs. 

She hums, heart buzzing with fresh confidence. As often as his eyes fall shut, he fights them open again and sets them on her, on her mouth where she presses open-mouthed kisses along his shaft, one palm cradling his balls in her warm palm. After a while, she is torturing herself as much as she tortures him, so she pulls back and opens her mouth (jaws already straining at the sheer width of him) and takes as much of his cock into her mouth as she can. 

The long, low fuck he mutters travels down between her legs, causing her to give a groan of her own. While she’d love to work a hand down to where she’s wet and aching, she needs both of them: one to work the length of his cock that she can’t swallow, and one to roll his balls. 

“Fuck me,” he says. “Did I say I didn’t want any more midnight trips to the zoo because—holy shit, that’s, that’s, God, please don’t stop—” 

She takes him deeper in response, letting the blunt head of his cock nudge the back of her throat. He jerks, hands tightening into fists on the arms of the chair. She takes a steadying breath and then works him deeper into her mouth, swallowing around the urge to gag, swallowing again and again when sounds begin to drip from Tony’s mouth in an endless stream, half-formed pleas and praises and filthy words.

It’s easy to lose herself between his legs, to become nothing but an aching knot of need, a useful hot mouth for his hips to fuck into (though he is very gentlemanly about it, little aborted thrusts, one shaking hand coming up to pet at her hair). She reaches up to encourage him to thread his fingers through her hair and take hold of her, to guide her, to use her. She keeps one hand fisted at the base of him to keep from injuring herself and otherwise lets him use her. 

She can’t help but imagine it happening again and again in a thousand different scenarios. Her beneath his desk while he works, keeping his cock warm. Her beneath the table during a rough meeting, his hands knotted in her hair. On her knees between his legs in his fancy penthouse, sucking him off for her own enjoyment. 

Suddenly he coaxes her off, one hand cupping her chin. “Are you alright?” he asks, breathlessly. “You were whining.” 

“‘M good,” she says, voice husky from the battering her throat has taken. “So good. Please don’t stop.” 

Tony shudders all over. “Fuck, I like the way you sound like that. Is that because of me, sweet thing? When your throat is sore in the morning, are you going to remember this and touch yourself?” 

“Uh-huh,” she breathes in the affirmative. Her eyes can’t focus on his face for any longer than a moment, not when his cock is there, glistening with her saliva, red and throbbing. Not when her mouth feels empty and open and desperate to be filled. She opens her mouth again, tongue lax, and he moans as he feeds his cock back between her lips. 

“I’m getting close,” he breathes, one thumb tracing the line of where her lips are wrapped around his cock. “Where do you want it? Absolutely no obligation to swallow, you’re in charge—” 

All the ideas are appealing: him pulling out to come on her face, pearlescent seed that she can lap from her lips. Pulling off so that she can finish him with her hand, so that she can watch every last twitch of his cock as she drags him over the edge. But this is the only chance she’ll ever have to be on her knees for this incredible, god-like man. There’s no chance she’ll let him cum anywhere but her mouth—no chance that she won’t swallow every last drop of him down. 

Kneeling up for better vantage, she plants both hands on hips and coaxes him forward, forward to thrust into her. The message must be clear as the realization crosses his face, eyes squeezing shut in an expression of the most sublime ecstasy. He murmurs one last warning before his pelvis tightens, abs showing in sharp definition where his shirt has ridden up. Then his cock jerks in her mouth, the scent of cum sharp on the back of her tastebuds. She groans, working her tongue as she swallows once, twice, thrice. 

As soon as he has finished, he draws her up onto shaking legs and pulls her onto his lap, his erection pressed between them as he cups her jaw tenderly and kisses the breath out of her. He must be able to taste himself in her mouth with the way his tongue plunders her, drags sensually against her own, but he only groans. 

When he draws back, his cheeks are red, eyes hazy. “I don’t even know your name,” he says, laughing a little. 

“I don’t remember it right now myself,” she says. 

“How about your address?” Tony asks. “I’d like to continue this, if you’ll have me. Somewhere more private. Unless you’re comfortable coming back to mine.” 

She blinks in surprise, sex throbbing when she wonders how he means to continue this. This whole night has been like a fever dream, the strangest, wettest fever dream of her life. And she realizes that she isn’t ready to wake up. So she drags her knuckles gently across his iconic facial hair and says, throat raw: “I’d like that.” 

[fic-al]

Oops hadn’t realized I didn’t post the final chapter on here previously.

Easter Bernie: Easter Sunday.

Here's someone who really loves you. Don't ever go away.That's what these walls would say. (If These Old Walls Could Speak, Jimmy Webb)

“Right over left, round and then through,” Fred repeated again, as he secured Reggie’s tie. “You will get the hang of it, son, easy when you knows how.”

“Thanks Uncle Fred,” Reggie was determined, he would master the tricky accessory by the end of the day. It couldn’t be more of a skill then changing a beer barrel, and he could do that.

“Oh, look at you two, all suited and booted, don’t you look smart,” Violet emerged from the Crown kitchen, wearing the dress and coat she had worn for Chummy’s wedding.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Violet,” beamed a perfectly groomed Val in a coral trouser suit and cream silken vest top.

“Who has one of those phone things, that takes a picture?” Evie asked, smoothing down a new floral dress she had treated herself to.

“Everyone Evie,” Val laughed, “Except you and Paddy.”

“Must be a pub thing,” added Jack, coming through the door, to cries of dismay.

“Jack, you are in jeans,” cried Vi.

“Talk about letting the side down,” remarked Fred.

Jack looked abashed, but added, “Thought I would stay behind, make sure no-one breaks in and steals all the eggs.”

“Jack, you know Paddy want’s us all to attend Easter Service this morning. If we are having a joint Easter Festival this year, it starts at ten o’clock at St. Preservus,” admonished Vi.

Jack looked at his trainers. That were at least clean.

“Let’s say no more about it, you will have to do,” Evie concluded.

The last member of the party had arrived through the door marked Private, that led to the living quarters of the Crown. Paddy gave a harsh look at Jack, but said nothing.

“You always scrub up well Mr T, you should wear suits more often,” blushed Vi followed by Paddy.

Val brought him back down to earth, “Would you like me to do your hair?”

Paddy gave Val the look reserved just for her and her cheek, the one that kept her quiet for about five seconds.

“Right then, is everybody ready?” another glance at a fidgety Jack, Paddy continued, “Bernie and Tim are meeting us there.”

xxxx

The Crown seven shuffled into the pew at the back of Saint Preservus, led in by Vi and ushered in by Paddy bringing up the rear.

“Hello, I see the naughty pew has been taken this morning,” beamed Peter Noakes, “that is usually reserved for the Noakes family.”

“Have we stolen your seat?” laughed Paddy.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t the Crown, there won’t be a fight,” joked Peter as he and Camilla sat in front with Phyllis accompanying Lady Keville and aromatherapist Jane Sutton. “Looks like that’s the Crown pew this morning,” Phyllis winked at Paddy.

“Shove up!” the southern accent demanded, faintly attempting the local dialect.

“Trixie, that’s the pub pew this morning, come and join us,” Chummy suggested.

Paddy had already shifted for Trixie to sit down,

“I am representing Bernie,” Trixie grinned.

“Trixie is Team Crown,” Val added on the other side of Paddy.

“You ready for today, Trixie?” Paddy asked.

“I think so, I have some understanding of an egg hunt and even the hill rolling, but jarping remains a mystery to me,” Trixie informed him in all seriousness.

Paddy leaned in and kept his voice low, aware of his surroundings.

“Right then, the Crown and Church Easter Jarping Tournament, or as it was formerly known, the Crown Inn Easter Jarping Tournament. It's very easy to understand the rules.”

“I believe you,” Trixie smiled, but did not laugh.

Paddy leant forward in an attempt to not be overheard and Trixie followed him, “It is played in a knock-out format, like the FA Cup.” Trixie nodded she understood, Paddy continued his voice below his usual range. “Each contestant selects a hard boiled egg prepared by a neutral source.” Trixie nodded she was following. “Competitors divide into pairs. One is the holder or Jarpee and the other is the thruster or Jarper. You following Trix?”

“I think so?” she whispered back, her cheeks slightly flushed. Paddy swallowed and continued at the lower vibration.

“The holder grasps their egg with their dominant hand revealing just the tip. The Jarper holds their egg also in their dominant hand. The Jarper needs to know they can make a firm contact with the other egg, so gently rubs the end of their tool against the opponents to ensure the certainty of contact. So the Jarper has one attempt to make a clean strike. You following?” Paddy paused.

“Yes,” Trixie assured in a rather higher pitch than she intended, “It’s very warm in here, or is it just me?” she added removing her scarf. Paddy nodded still sat forwards whispering into Trixie’s ear.

“The pair then swap places and repeat this series of events. Everyone has a turn with everyone else. Once both tips of your egg are cracked, you are eliminated. The winner is the final competitor to have at least one end intact.”

The congregation hushed as Tom Hereward arrived in the pulpit, to start the service, just as Chummy who was sat directly in front of Paddy and Trixie exclaimed a little too loudly, “I’ve never been more aroused.”

Timothy Turner sitting at the organ, couldn’t help turn toward the back of the church to see where all the sniggering was coming from. To be honest, he knew exactly where the laughter was coming from, but he had to look. Lucille, in front of her choir, exchanged glances with him and they shrugged their shoulders. He looked at Bernie, who was shaking her head and glaring at the back of the church. Tom Hereward was looking a little flushed and said, “Shall we begin.”

xxxx

Back at the Crown it was all stations go. Violet gave a wicker basket to Fred.

“These are the onion peel dyed eggs, for egg rolling down Crown Bank. Take them to the back of the pub and remember it is one egg per child.”

“I wondered where that pong of onions was coming from. They do look pretty though, but don’t half pen and ink,” the brewer preferred a more hoppy odour.

“Jack, you take these plain eggs to the beer garden. There is a table set up with colouring pens and markers for the more artistic types. Remember one egg per child,” Jack nodded at Violet to reassure her he had got it.

“That leaves the jarpers for later. The Church are in charge of the Easter Egg Hunt around the village. I just hope they haven’t made it too difficult for the little ones,” Violet took a breath.

“I think it was Tim and Lucille who hid them, so should be all right Vi,” Val reassured with a wink.

xxxx

“So I just drop my egg down the bank?”

“Trixie, you must have rolled an Easter Egg before?” Bernie thought her friend was deliberately being dense.

“You mean one smelling of onions, can’t say I have,” Poplar's latest resident snapped back.

“No wonder we want to shot them away down the hill,” laughed Fred.

“What is the point?” Trixie wasn’t satisfied.

“It’s just a laugh, you race your pals and see how many times you can roll it, before it cracks,” Bernie was losing patience.

“Represents the stone rolling away from the tomb,” Paddy interjected, Bernie made a shocked face and Paddy grabbed her by the waist and said, “What? I am not a complete heathen,” threatening to roll her down the hill.

“So once I have rolled this, I have to go down the hill, retrieve it and if it hasn’t cracked, do it again, until it does?” Trixie said, keeping a wide berth from wrestling Paddy and Bernie, the latter now screaming.

Fred feeling a bit awkward himself with the tactileness of the moment, nodded at Trixie,

“Better get a move on love, don’t want to miss the start of the duck race.”

“Sorry?”

“The duck race down the Tweaven, first duck to Mount Busby wins.”

Paddy interrupted, suddenly letting go of Bernie, who actually did stagger a few feet down hill before achieving traction. “My favourite bit,” he grinned.

“You race real ducks, that is medieval,” protested Trixie.

“This from the Poplar sheep rustler,” corrected Paddy.

Bernie saved the situation and herself from joining the eggs at the bottom of the hill,

“They are not real ducks, Trixie, you know those ones you put in your bath, those rubber ones. You put your mark on one and the first one Reggie spots at the farm, wins.”

“Who has a bath these days? Haven't you all got showers yet?” Trixie was confused.

Paddy huffed. Bernie added, “You might be the one at the farm, waiting for a duck next year.”

“I don’t think that is in my job description,” Trixie added, but she didn’t look convinced.

Fred and Paddy were trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face, “Fancy a pint, Fred?”

“Not arf, Doc,” he replied, already heading for the pub.

“You are all as cracked as these eggs,” Trixie said, delicately tossing her egg southwards.

xxxx

Trixie walked back to the front of the Crown and wondering if she was doing the right thing moving to potty Poplar. She made her way to the beer garden and was surprised to see her new employers surrounded by sticky fingers and loud chatter. Turner Prize nominee Patience Mount, was decorating eggs with the village children. She was helping a few of the Sunday School class with their fragile Easter bonnets, some of which looked more like caps or helmets.

Delia, never far away, stood guard over a cardboard box, where a couple of fluffy yellow chicks were being coo’d over. Phyllis was still accompanying Lady Keville, who had brought a large selection of knitted egg warmers in all the colours of the rainbow. They were showing a group of children how to make the pom-pom version of the tweety little critters in Delia’s box. Lucille had been delighted with these knitted extras, and had Tim yarn-bomb Poplar, distributing them around the village, as part of the Easter Egg Trail.

Trixie was feeling a little bit lost. Bernie had returned from the egg rolling in one piece and was now interrogating Paddy, “What were you all laughing at in church, tell me?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he winked at Trixie.

Trixie grinned, “I feel like a vegan in the hen house. What can I do, to help at my first Poplar Easter Festival?”

“Well, you are good at sales, you can be in charge of the raffle,” Paddy said, as if he had given her the combination to his safe.

Val placed on the bar a huge cuddly grey and white rabbit, holding a large gold foil covered chocolate egg. Trixie forced a smile.

“There are a couple of envelopes there too; Second Prize is a Mount Busby Alpaca Day Out and third prize is a Meal for Two at the Crown.” Paddy announced proudly and Trixie suddenly connected with her new life.

Until Bernie spoilt it, “Fourth prize is an Alpaca Day Out and a meal at the Crown,” laughing hysterically at her own joke. While Trixie, Val and Paddy refused to. Even though Val’s lips were twitching.

Valerie passed Trixie a tupperware box full of coins “A float; to get you started, they always come with notes.” Trixie smiled a little bit.

xxxx

The sun was lowering behind the Cleveland Hills, cooling the Crown beer garden. The last of the tables had been cleared and the clutter added to the recycling bin. Val was taking orders for drinks. The children had all gone home. The Two Loves had taken Antonia back to Bagnall Hall. Trixie sat proudly admiring a brightly decorated toilet roll inner with a bright yellow toy chick with a wonky beak, stuck on the top with blu-tack.

“I can’t believe you won the Egg Jarping, Trixie,” Bernie shook her head.

“Beginner's luck,” shouted an envious Jack.

“Expert training,” suggested Paddy.

“What are you going to do with your trophy, Trixie?” laughed Val

“Put it on top of Bernie’s telly,” Trixie said emphatically.

“That monstrosity is not coming into my house,” Bernie cried in mock indignation.

“Oi, Tim made that,” Paddy yelled.

“About ten years ago, Dad!” Tim blushed in horror. Lucille and Jack’s laughter adding insult to injury.

Tom and Bobby and baby Hereward appeared. It was the first time they had been seen since church. They had been overseeing the egg hunt around the village and offering refreshments at the church, a role Bernie had envied.

“The church is locked up, and the village is litter free,” explained Bobby to Julia who was sipping on a Crabbies’ ginger beer, emphasis on the beer.

“Splendid, everyone has worked so hard today,” Julia commented. “That little one looks tired,” she added, observing a grouchy baby in Bobby’s arms.

“She actually needs changing,” Bobby explained.

Val, who was passing Evie a pint of Easter Egg Ale informed the young mother, “The toilets are just inside Mrs Hereward, the changing facilities are in there.”

“Oh thanks, Valerie,” said Bobby and moved toward the backdoor.

Tom held up a hand, “We should really be getting home, love.”

“Aren't you two stopping for a drink, we’ve all earned it,” asked Julia, taking another sip of her memory.

“No, we better get home and get this little madam seen to,” Tom laughed weakly.

“Be quicker, just to change her here if she's uncomfortable?” Phyllis, sipping on a double brandy, offered.

“I would rather we went home,” replied Tom curtly.

“The facilities here are excellent. I should know, I make sure they are spotless every morning,” Evie’s tone held authority.

“But it is 6pm,” Tom’s voice had a higher pitch now.

“Bernie or myself, check the loos every hour. If you look on the door, we have to sign to say everything is in order,” Val couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Look, you’re all very kind, but I don't want my daughter being changed in a pub toilet,” Tom’s voice was adamant.

Evie looked as if she was about to combust.

Julia intervened, “Tom, maybe you should get your family home, we have all had a long day.”

“And confusing. I am sorry, but I really haven’t seen the point of this. We welcomed everyone to church this morning, for the most important date in the Christian calendar, and then chased them all to the pub. Where is the message in that?”

The youth minister's words left the beer garden in a dense fog of discomfort. Julia looked lost for a moment. It was Phyllis who spoke up,

“Today was about community lad, bringing the village and the wider area together. These two buildings have been central to this village for over 300 years. It’s about time they came together.”

Phyllis had given Julia time to compose herself, “We will discuss the issues you have raised concerning a joint festival in a meeting tomorrow, Mr Hereward.”

Baby Hereward was becoming more grumpy, and Bobby was struggling to placate her. Paddy, who had been very quiet through this most recent exchange of views, offered quietly.

“Mrs Herward, your daughter seems very unhappy. Would you like to take her upstairs to the flat? Where you can have ample space and privacy.”

“Lets go Bobby, I will see you tomorrow, Reverend,” Tom nodded at Julia, Bobby didn’t have time to acknowledge Paddy’s offer, as she was pushed by her husband towards the door.

Someone with not the longest fuse in Poplar, had sweaty palms and a racing heart and a mouth she couldn’t keep shut.

“If yer have issues with the joint festival, then that is fine, Mr Hereward, as Reverend Lewis said that needs to be discussed between you tomorrow.” Everyone recognised the north of the border twang. That wasn’t done yet.

“But I have issue with your attitude right now concerning this house, it is so much more than an alehouse, it’s a place where people work, it is a home.” Tom stopped in his tracks, Bernie went on,

“Your place of work just happens to be the House of God. Now we were invited into that house this morning and everyone here, acted in a respectful manner.” Bernie took a breath. There was some awkward shuffling on the garden benches. She was on a roll though,

“You were invited into our home today and I feel you have not returned that respect. To say the Crown isn’t a fit place for a child, maybe you want to take a look at Timothy Turner, he was raised here. Would Mrs Turner have chosen this as a home, if she thought the Crown wasn't a fit place for a child? I think he has turned out pretty OK, don’t you?”

Tim wished at this point, that people would just remember who he was, and not feel the need to check by staring at him. Fortunately Bernie went on,

“Surely what matters is not whether it is a House of Prayer or a House of Refreshment, but a House of Love. And you can take my word for it, for what that may be worth. This house is just that. There is so much love in this house, I am only sorry yer canae feel it.”

Later Trixie said that she started the clapping, but everyone was sure it was Val, followed by Lucille. There was definitely a “Well said lass,” from Phyllis and somebody, maybe more than one, said her dad would be proud. Was there an Amen? The kids just said, “You don’t mess with our Bernie.” Did anyone notice Paddy said nothing, he just beamed with pride. If pride was a signal the Crown was 5G?

xxxxx

“I am barred from St Preservus.That’s the Mission I have offended and the church in one week,” Bernie complained.

There was only her and Paddy now. The sun had gone to its rest behind the hills. They sat on Frank and Peggy’s bench sharing a secret ciggie, Bernie perched on Paddy’s knee.

“Nonsense, Julia totally supported you. It’s Mr Hereward who should be worried and as for the Mission, does that really matter now, Bernie?”

“Mr Hereward is young and idealistic, everything is black and white to him, I used to know someone else like that,” she smiled stubbing out the butt of the fag, they hoped Tim would never know about.

“What happened to her?” Paddy said, turning her face gently towards his with both hands.

“She came home,” she smiled and kissed him tenderly, in a way that she was just beginning to understand.

“Bernie, you know this can be your home, whenever you want it to be, on whatever terms you want.” He looked at her intently. Bernie knew if she didn’t save herself, she would drown in those eyes.

“You know what I do want?” she kissed him on the forehead and pushed back his unruly hair. He just raised both eyebrows saying tell me?

“Are those pink wafers still behind the bar?”

“Go see,” he laughed, helping her off his knee.

Bernie almost ran to the bar. She found a package wrapped in gold foil with a red bow. She ripped open recklessly the carefully wrapped box. Only to find a large brightly coloured tin which read Huntley and Palmer Superior Biscuits. Bernie’s expression looked like it was Christmas, birthdays and Easter all at once.

“Paddy, I bloody love you.”

Paddy smiled, “Happy Easter, Bernie,”

[andrewmoocow]

Steven Universe: The Fantastic Mutants chapter 4: The Deadpool and Peridot Show (originally posted on August 29, 2020)

AN: Welcome back to The Fantastic Mutants everyone. This is a very special chapter because here I have a co-writer, whether I like it or not.

Surprise everyone, it's me Deadpool! Since this kid refuses to get his writing done quickly, I've taken it upon myself to "help" him out since no one can understand me better than me. Now then, back to my cohost here.

Yes, Deadpool of all people has decided to help me. Though I'd rather do all of this myself without any distractions.

Kinda like how this author's note is distracting us from the actual main event! Now let's just get this rolling already!

--

We begin on a talk show set in a blank white space, inhabited solely by a drop-dead handsome mercenary dressed in a beautiful shade of red with hints of black that was currently tearing it apart for no good reason. You know him, you love him, it's the sexiest anti-hero to have ever graced this dying industry, Deadpool.

"Thank you, thank you all!" yours truly bowed for an unseen audience as he finished tearing the set apart. "Now if all y'all have been lying under a rock since like, I don't know, '91, I am known as Wade Winston Wilson. I was created by Rob Liefeld and Fabian Niecieza for The New Mutants #98 in February 199-"

"Wade, I believe everyone knows who you are already." My white thinky-box, represented by a bold underline, cut me off. "You're already an Internet legend and of course, there's Ryan Reynolds."

"Can we just can the prologue already?" my yellow thinky-box, also represented by underlining but this time it was in italics. "There's gotta be people coming here solely for us who don't know what's going on."

"Okay wiseguys, you asked for it." the man who looked like a cross between Ryan Reynolds and a Shar-Pei underneath that creepily adorable mask replied. "So in case you guys are just joining us, this is a crossover with the modern classic with some of the most psycho fans in the Internet, Steven Universe." I explained. "Last chapter, our smol sunshine baby of a protagonist was kidnapped by the Master of Magnetism Magneto for some most likely evil science experiment by our favorite evil dictator with a superiority complex to compliment his tiny dick, Doctor Doom. In response, the Crystal Gems have decided that they need more hands on deck, and more characters than this story already needs."

"What does he want this to be, the DC Extended Universe?"

"I'd watch that mouth if I were you buddy." I called the dialogue box out. "Our author here has had experiences with those fans. If that Englishman can think he's free to call MCU fans Marvel Zombies, than he's free to have his own opinion. But someone that fanatical deserves to be called something similar, like a DCheep! Get it, because he's a sheep!"

"Can we please move on? This recap has already taken up two pages and I got real-life things to do." The author begged Wade.

"Okay, okay! Let's get this started already, keep your pants on!" the masked macho-man declared, marching off stage in an alluring fashion. "Cue scenery!"

--

Not too far from Westchester County, there was a shitty apartment where dwelled the hideously scarred human mutate, Wade Wilson. He was out like a light after the badass battle to the death he totally had last night, no joke. Not even a chimichanga could wake him up, and he didn't care that much for them. Yeah, no joke.

"Come on you sack 'a crap, wake up!" his blind, black, elderly roommate Blind Al groaned while fishing Wade out of bed with a snow shovel. "How much off-screen carnage puts you this much to sleep?"

"Enough for readers to get a glimpse of what I do in my spare time." Deadpool declared as he woke up, looking like he had a fantastic night's sleep. "Morning Al, off to do a crossover, see ya later!" he hurriedly greeted the old woman before leaving his room.

"Should I tell him he's not wearing pants?" Al muttered to herself. "Naw, he'll figure it out himself."

--

And figure it out he did. Immediately after that scene, Deadpool was wandering around the street fully clothed and ready to get this chapter over with.

"So, can we have our co-stars please show themselves?"

The author complied by dropping Connie, Peridot, Lapis Lazuli, Bismuth and Nephrite into the scene. "Wait, how did we get here?" Peridot wondered aloud. "And who are you?"

"Ooh, I get to hang with everyone's favorite character!" Deadpool cheered. "I've been writing up jokes about the fans I've been wanting to say for quite a while." He added to the readers while searching his hammerspace for cue cards. "Let me see, Molotov cocktail, big-ass cartoon bomb, reminder to sue Marvel & Capcom for leaving me out of Infinite, God knows how many machine guns."

"Uh, while you're looking for whatever it is you want, let me introduce myself." Connie introduced herself. "My name is Connie, pleased to meet you."

"Hey, can you put your cue-card search on hold and say hi to the kid?"

"Ah, here they are!" Deadpool declared as he fished a series of flashcards from seemingly his butt. "Been wanting to do this for ages." He said before clearing his throat, and he began to read off of them.

"Here are some complaints I have heard about Steven Universe. Complaint #1: literally no one can stay on-model because storyboarding is the devil. Complaint #2: Rebecca Sugar is a total butchphobic abuse supporter because she treats Jasper like crap and lets Lapis off the hook despite the fact that she's even worse."

"Please note that these are clearly not the opinions of the author. He's just been around Tumblr a lot and knows just how these so-called 'fans' think."

"Who said that?" Bismuth wondered aloud. "Oh hey, Bismuth!" Wade exclaimed as he just took notice of her. "That reminds me, Complaint #3: Making Bismuth an antagonist in any way, shape or form is racist because all minorities are pretty little angels than must be defended at all costs despite the facts that we're all human beings who have the potential to be complete balls to the wall sociopathic!"

"Okay, now you're just being used as a mouthpiece for the author. Hey buddy, can you stop him by introducing your version of the X-Force?!"

As a way to shut him up, the writer dropped the X-Force into the current scene on top of Deadpool. Their members, aside from Wilson, consisted of big names like Cable, Domino, Bob & Psylocke, to those who are only familiar to movie-watchers like Copycat, Negasonic Teenage Warhead, Yukio, Bedlam & Shatterstar, and even Outlaw & Fantomex!

"How did we get here?" Cable asked the other black-ops mutants as he got up. "Oh hey Natey, knew you'd come along sooner or later!" Wade greeted his cybernetic compadre. "I was just getting myself introduced to these characters that we'll be paired up with for this crossover."

"Hi, I'm Bob, Wade's best friend!" the HYDRA agent Bob cheerfully introduced himself. "Name's Domino." Neena Thurman responded.

"A pleasure to meet you, dearest jeune fille bleue." Fantomex greeted Lapis in a gentlemanly fashion. "You may call me Fantomex. "

"Charmed." Lapis replied.

"Wow, everyone wants Lapis! First Fandral, and now Fanto."

"Can you blame her? She's the writer's fave and top SU waifu! Favoritism much?"

"Name's Negasonic Teenage Warhead." Ellie Phimster introduced herself. "This here is Yukio." She added gesturing to a Japanese girl with pink hair and a big smile. "Hi there!"

"I'm Wade's girlfriend Vanessa, though a lot of people call me Copycat since that's my power." Vanessa stated. "Yeah, totally original."

"Call me Bedlam." Bedlam stated. "And this here is Shatterstar. Unlike the rest of us, he's an alien from the Mojoverse."

"And finally, these are Outlaw and Psylocke." Shatterstar gestured to the cowgirl and the ninja in the one piece. "Nice to meet ya." Inez Temple greeted. "Indeed." Betsy Braddock added.

"So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?" Deadpool asked Connie. "Don't give too much away, cause I already got a basic knowledge of what happened last chapter."

"Chapter?" Connie tilted her head in confusion. "Steven was kidnapped only an hour ago! What do you think this is, some kind of story?"

"You'd be surprised Girl-Who-Wasn't-Actually-Dressed-As-Gohan-In-That-One-Episode." The Merc with a Mouth grinned underneath his mask. Before anyone could move on however, a stereotypical overweight nerd who looks like he doesn't get out much wheeled in on an automated scooter with a plate of brownies in front of him. "And you are?"

"I am simply an SU Critical that wants to congratulate you for making my voice heard." The nerd congratulated Deadpool. "As a way of saying thanks, have some brownies."

"I get it! Deadpool won some brownie points!"

"Don't explain the joke dumbass. The punchline should be coming up now."

As Wade snacked on the brownies, he came to realize something was wrong with them. "Hey wait a second. Yo, stereotype! Why do these brownies taste like literal dogshit?!"

"That's my secret ingredient!" the nerd revealed, much to Wade's disgust and he angrily tossed the brownies on the ground. "It's to symbolize how I believe Steven Universe has gone bad ever since the barn arc ended since absolutely nothing can compare to the amazing character development Peridot got!"

"Oh, it's so nice to see someone notice my splendidness!" Peridot blushed as she felt humbled by the nerd. "Of course, then they had to devolve her into a mindless comic relief who only-"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING MINDLESS COMIC RELIEF YOU CLOD?!" the small Gem shrieked furiously before she pounced on the basement dweller and began choking him. "I'll teach you to talk back to me immediately after giving my praises you hypocrite!"

As Peridot continued assaulting the nerd, everyone else watched in either shock, bemusement or in Deadpool's case, pride. "I think I want to be her new bestest friend already."

"But I thought we were friends!" Bob weeped sadly while Bedlam gave him a comforting pat on the head.

--

"And now it's time for a cutaway gag!"

"Cutaway gags? You gotta be kidding me, we're not Family Guy!"

"Just let the writer do his thing man, it's his imagination!"

--

"Come on Willy, I know you can do it!" a child version of Deadpool called to a whale in a scene that is clearly a reference to a certain all-time classic "Boy and his non-human friend" story. However just as Willy finally leaped over the rock Wade was standing on, he was immediately harpooned in midair and dragged towards a pirate ship manned by Captain Ahab. "Hey, wrong whale story Habbo Hotel!"

"After so many years of searching, that accursed whale is now mine to profit off!" Ahab and his crew celebrated their capture. "I'm talking sequels and an animated series to start, but the sky's the limit!"

"This ain't the last you'll see of me Old Thunder!" Wade cursed the sea captain as he made off with his prize. "I'll bring that whale home, just you wait!"

--

"Okay, that's a pretty unique idea for a gag. But seriously, back to the show."

--

"So, we're here because Magneto has kidnapped Steven with a bunch of Sentinels." Connie recapped to Deadpool while they were out and about in the city. "Now that you know what we're doing, can you tell us what you do?"

"I'm glad you asked Connie." Deadpool declared. "Allow me to explain the only way you Steven Universe characters probably know how. IN SONG!"

"Wait, a musical number, in a fanfiction?! Seriously?!"

"Hey shut it, this is gonna be good!"

"Lights please." Wade announced, shutting off the lights with a snap of his fingers, and turning them back on with another snap. He was now dressed as an Elvis impersonator with Cable, Domino, Bob and Copycat as his band. "What song do you plan on playing?" Vanessa asked her boyfriend.

"Just watch and listen." Wade responded, and began playing a parody of a classic movie song. "Here I go!" he started singing while Cable provided backup on the drums. "Woo! Ah-ha, ah-ha, let me show you what I work with!"

"Well Gambit was in league with a bunch of thieves, Cyclops has almost two thousand tales!" For his first act of insanity, the Regenerating Degenerate made about fifty longboxes filled with comics appear for Peridot & Lapis to rifle through. As soon as they discovered one with Wade fighting a vampire bat creature on the cover titled "Deadpool: The Gauntlet," the Deadpool on the cover continued the song.

"Well my friends, you're in luck cause up your sleeves, you got a kind of guy that never fails!" After Deadpool emerged from the issue Peridot was holding, he shot down various villains emerging from the other comics while singing.

"You got a real badass in your corner now, a real Wolverine type in your camp!" he then demonstrated by transforming his face into that of Logan's and then back again before letting bullets rain from above. "He can shoot, kablam! Bullets galore, all you gotta do is say my name!" Wade crooned. "And I'll say: 'Miss Peridot and Lapis Lazuli, what will your pleasure be?'"

As he sat the Gems down on a beach blanket, Deadpool then assumed pirate attire and set a heavy treasure chest on the ground. "Just give me a guy and I'll shoot him down, you ain't had a mercenary like me!"

Peridot began to excitedly open the chest while Lapis rolled her eyes. "Life's like a treasure chest," Wade's disembodied voice continued. When the treasure box was opened, the mercenary exploded out of it and made gold fly everywhere. "AND I'M GONNA BE YOUR KEY!"

Unlike her smaller partner, Lapis was still not amused. "C'mon, whisper to me what you want," Wade kept crooning, followed by splitting himself into four smaller Deadpools. "You ain't had a mercenary like me!"

"Contractors pride ourselves on service." One of the mini-Wades stated, and then they merged into the prime Wilson while spawning a lavish couch for his two guests. "You girls the hoss, the queens, the Shah! No matter what you wish, I'll be your bitch! How 'bout a few chimichangas?"

"Have some of Sample A, try all of Sample B!" Following the chimichanga rain, Peridot and Lapis were handed free samples at a supermarket before they found themselves on a velvet pillow held by Wade. "Anytime, any day, I'll help you babes. You ain't had a mercenary like me!"

A brief dance number then ensued between Deadpool and his hands. His left hand vocalized and the degenerate replied with an "Oh my!" When the right hand started singing, it was responded with "No no!" Both hands harmonized and they got a "Ha ha ha!" They sandwiched Deadpool between them as he peaced out with a "Zip-a-dee doo-dah!"

When Deadpool returned, he pointed straight at Peridot. "Give me a good badda-yadda-yadda!"

"Badda-yadda-yadda!" Peridot excitedly repeated. "Good, scotty-wop!" Wade then pointed to Lapis. Her reply was more unsure. "Uh, scotty-wop?"

"Everybody now!" Deadpool compelled the readers. "Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!"

"Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!" the readers answered excitedly.

"Yeah, y'all got it!" Wade congratulated before proceeding to demonstrate his healing factor. "Can your friends do this?" he asked, casually dislocating his arms. "Can your friends do that?" he added, ripping out his spinal cord to bounce on it like a certain stuffed tiger. "Can your friends pull this?" With that, Wade tore his skeleton out of his body and started dancing the Charleston with it. "Out a little hat?!"

Suddenly, Wade's skeleton started filling itself with dynamite sticks on the verge of exploding. "CAN YOUR FRIENDS GO-" The human mutate was interrupted as the TNT exploded, and the clouds gave way to him beatboxing while doing a silly dance.

"Call me the Merc with a Mouth, I am always there. North, West, East and South! So don't sit there slackjawed, all buggy-eyed! I'm here to answer all ya evening prayers!" he continued. "You got me bona-fide certified! A hired gun for your charge affair!"

"I got a powerful urge to help you out! So who's gonna die? I really need to know!" Deadpool said as the song began to reach its climax while pulling a long strip of paper from Peridot's mouth and began rubbing his bottom with it. "You got a list that's three miles long no doubt. So all you gotta do is pay-wayho!"

For the final setpiece, Peridot and Lapis now stood atop a mountain of dead Marvel characters that are so obscure, not even the most hardcore fans knew a thing about them. "Miss Peridot and Lapis Lazuli, what will your pleasure be?" Wade asked tunefully. Peridot then picked up one body, and its head suddenly turned into Deadpool's. "Anytime anyplace, I'll help you babes."

A few bodies rose from the dead, only for Deadpool to shoot them all down. "You ain't had a mercenary, never had a mercenary." He concluded. "You ain't had a mercenary, never had a mercenary."

Bullets once again began raining, along with all sorts of violent weapons as the song finally ended. "YOU AIN'T, HAD A, MERCE-NARY LIIIII-IIIIIKE MEEEEE!"

With the X-Force performing a kickline to finish things off, Deadpool pulled on a string dangling from above. "You ain't had a mercenary like me!" A flickering neon applause sign dropped down, capping off the rather pointless number.

--

"Well, that was a waste of time that'll never be spoken of again."

"Sincerest apologies to Alan Menken, Howard Ashman and especially Robin Williams. He would've been 69 this year. NICE!"

--

"Okay you generic-looking monster, time to discover who you truly are!" Connie declared to a captured Sasquatch while she, Peridot, Deadpool, Lapis and Cable were dressed as a certain band of meddling kids and their voracious canine pal. Connie ripped off the Sasquatch's head to reveal that it was a mask worn by an evil parrot with a scar across his face.

"Zoinks! Like, it's a parrot!" Deadpool declared in a beatnik voice. "Wait, a parrot? Is that all?"

"Far from it mein friends!" the parrot answered in a German accent. Suddenly, large robots kicked the walls around them down. "Behold, my Nazi robots!"

"N-Nazi robots?" Lapis stuttered. "Jeepers, this is just getting too weird."

Deadpool then glanced expectantly at Cable, who groaned while pushing up his glasses. "C'mon Cabey, say the line!" he exhorted the cyborg. With a heavy groan, Cable quietly said "Jinkies, run."

"He's right, let's split up gang!" Connie commanded, and the crew were off to the races. After passing by the same flowerpot approximately five times because there wasn't that much in the budget, the five came across a hallway littered with doors.

When Deadpool and Peridot burst into one door, they came out of another not too faraway, same with the others. However at the end of a door, they came across a blue digital ghost with yellow eyes & teeth and a grainy laugh.

"Ruh roh, rit's Rames Rarles the Rindly Rohnny!" Peridot exclaimed, making every word she spoke begin with R before she coughed. "How does anyone speak like this?" she asked Wade. "Because speech impediments are funny!" the mercenary replied. "Now let's move!"

"Seriously, why can't I be Fred?!" Cable complained while emerging from another door with Deadpool by his side instead of Lapis. "Connie gets the cool ascot, and all I'm left with is this bulky sweater and a short skirt!"

"Well for one, that skirt actually looks pretty cute on you." Wade answered with a stupidly cheeky grin on his face. Before anyone else could charge through more doors, zombie cats and dinosaurs that could move without thinking came charging in. "Wow, Scooby-Doo became a lot weirder than when I was a youngin."

--

Returning to the real world, the Crystal Temps and the X-Force have just plowed through an entire armed squadron inhabiting a conveniently abandoned office building and now had their leader tied up in a chair. "We ain't gonna let all those hallway fights amount to nothing!" Wade declared holding the squadron leader at gunpoint. "We've tried every torture technique in the book: eating your own food, threatening your family, doing a silly dance to some awesome music and yet still you won't talk!" he exclaimed. "So let me ask this again! What does the guy who gave Magneto & Doctor Doom those Sentinels look like?"

"What?" the gunman asked nervously, causing Wade to smash another wall. "WHAT COUNTRY ARE YOU FROM?!" the mercenary shrieked. "What?" the captive continued squeaking. "WHAT AIN'T NO COUNTRY I EVER HEARD OF!" Deadpool yelled. "THEY SPEAK ENGLISH IN WHAT?!"

"What?" the man said a third time. "ENGLISH MOTHER-" Deadpool began, but then he noticed the T-rating and groaned. "ENGLISH YOU BASTARD, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!" he reiterated. "YES!" the gunman finally said something other than what. "THEN YOU MUST KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" Deadpool kept yelling. "WHAT DOES YOUR MASTER LOOK LIKE?!"

"We could just beat the info outta him and be done with it." Bedlam advised. "No need for all this Pulp Fiction parody crap."

"Was I talking to you?" Wade asked his teammate tersely before going back to his captive. "Now where was I? Oh yeah! Does he look like a bitch?"

"Now you're just skipping lines!" the gunman squealed in defiance. "What else do you wanna do with me?!"

"Okay, I got another question for you." Wade stated. "Have you had your prostate exam lately?"

"What?" the gunman muttered, fearing what could come next. "In fact, I got just the girl to help me." Wade declared. "Hey Connie, your MILF of a mom is a doctor right? Surely you must know what I'm talking about!"

"Yeah, pretty much!" Connie answered. "Here, lend me your sword. We might need to operate." Deadpool said as he menacingly snapped on a pair of rubber gloves. "Hey author, why don't we cut to another scene before this gets too violent?"

--

"Now then, what are we working with he-There it is!"

"AUGH!"

--

Elsewhere, a stereotypical shadowy figure watched from a large video screen as the X-Force tore through his mercenaries. "That masked maniac is onto us!" he growled quietly while pounding his fist on an armrest and turned his chair to face Ruckus, Gorgeous George, Hairbag, Ramrod & Slab, the Nasty Boyz. "You five track him & those rainbow women down and kill them all!"

"Yes sir." The Nasty Boyz complied and set off for the Merc with a Mouth. "Now where do you suppose the merc could be now?" Hairbag asked his fellow Boyz. "My best guess, he's probably at that Hellhouse run by Patch." the Southern-accented Slab theorized. "Hopefully they have room for his head as a trophy."

--

"Well here we are at Saint Margaret's School for Wayward Children." Deadpool decreed as he suddenly parked a limo that he totally always had in front of the mercenary dispatch center he loved frequenting. "I suggest you try not to look at some of its inhabitants funny, some of them can get a little ballistic."

Entering the bar, the two teams had all eyes on them by all the other mercs at the establishment. "Uh, hello there." Connie nervously greeted one of them. "I don't think you're old enough to be here little girl." The mercenary replied ominously. "Don't worry Jessica, they're with me." Deadpool told the larger man. "So, where's Weasel?"

"Right here old buddy!" the bespectacled bartender called for Wade. "Hey, Weasel!" Wade exclaimed to his old friend while sitting down at the bar and exchanging a fistbump. "I see you're doing well Poolboy." Weasel said to his friend. "And who's the green midget with you?"

"This is Peridot, a member of the Crystal Gems." Shatterstar introduced Peridot. "Oh, you mean those rock ladies that creamed those Chitauri only to get creamed by Thanos?" Weasel asked, making Peridot pretty mad. "Hey, we creamed Thanos right back!"

"We're looking for information sir." Connie said to Weasel. "A friend of mine has been captured by Magneto & Doctor Doom using those Sentinel robots, and we want to know where they've come from."

"You want confidential info little girl?" the barkeep stated. "Go see Multiple Man over there at that poker table, he's usually the guy to talk to since he's a detective."

"Yet one mystery he can't solve is the mystery of why he can never get his own movie."

"ZING!"

At a nearby poker table, Jamie Madrox and some of his duplicates were playing cards with the albino mutant Caliban, and the four Jamies clearly had the upper hand. "All in!" one of the clones declared shoving his chips into the pot. "I know you are cheating Madrox." Caliban informed his opponent. "I mean, there are literally four of you!"

Just then, Deadpool abruptly shot one of the clones dead and sat down where he once was. "Deal me in." he simply declared as if nothing happened. "Caliban welcomes you Mr. Pool." Caliban nervously greeted the regenerating degenerate. "And who is your little friend?"

"You may call me Peridot, the suave, attractive and positively adorable leader of the Crystal Gems!" Peridot introduced herself arrogantly. "So, you more members of the X-Men? Haven't seen you around the mansion."

"Actually, we're members of a different team of mutants." Madrox replied, while his surviving doubles sadly carried their dead comrade away. "There are actually quite a lot of them you see. X-Factor; the one we're a part of, X-Statix, Excalibur, Generation X, the Morlocks and most famously Alpha Flight."

"Half of them sound so late 20th to early 21st century." Peridot commented. "I mean, X-Statix? Talk about totally cool dudes!"

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "Is this Saint Margaret's? We'd like to have a word with the owner." A voice came from the other side, catching all the patrons and employees off-guard. All was quiet, but then the Nasty Boyz came crashing through the wall instead of the door. "LET'S GET NASTY!" they all cried out, springing into action.

"Alright, what the shit is going on here?!" Bob "Patch" Stirrat, the elderly owner of Saint Margaret's growled, emerging from another room while stroking his big bushy mustache. "Oh god, it's the Nasty Boyz."

"The Nasty Boyz?" Peridot and Lapis repeated in unison before they laughed at the evil mutant team's name. Suddenly, the wood tables of the bar came to life and changed their form thanks to Ramrod, who used them to restrain everyone aside from Deadpool. "Okay boys, frisk him."

On Ramrod's orders, Gorgeous George used his shapeshifting powers to grab Wade by the ankles and dangle him above the ground. "Let's see what he's got here." Ruckus muttered, fishing through the belongings dropped as Wade was shaken up and down. "Various pistols, swords, nunchucks, staves, forks, a bazooka."

"Most of those were from a Ninja Turtles convention I went to last year." Wade revealed. "Don't know where the bazooka came from."

"Rubber chicken, five month old bag of pizza pockets; that are still warm," Slab continued for his teammate. "Ryan Reynolds's phone number, large collection of nude selfies from Thumbelin-WHAT?!"

To Slab's absolute shock and fury, he found an overfilled file of lewd pictures taken by his sister Kristina Anderson with her phone number on it, along with a message saying "I bet you want more, my raging sex machine!" Crushing the file in his hand, Slab furiously glared at Deadpool. "Wilson, you son of a bitch!"

"Geez Chris, I thought you had a sense of humor." Wade grinned cheekily. "After all, SHE'S YOUR SISTER!" Then like Thor returning Mjolnir to his hand, the mercenary wiggled his fingers to call one of his katana blades back and free himself from Gorgeous George before rescuing his friends. "SSSSSSmokin'!" he hissed before spin-dashing out of the bar.

"After that degenerate!" Hairbag exclaimed while Slab frothed in wordless rage and the Boyz gave chase, leaving the bar in tatters. "Hey, which of you assholes is gonna clean this up?!" Patch exclaimed, but then he answered his own question by handing Weasel a broom.

--

"Everyone, to the Deadpoolmobile!" Deadpool exclaimed as the X-Force and Crystal Temps piled into the limousine from earlier. "Where did you ever get this car anyways?" Bismuth asked him, and he replied. "Don't think about it!"

Far across the city, Robert Kelly was left facepalming and a colleague of his scratching his head when they discovered that one of Kelly's limos was missing, its place taken by a graffiti message saying "I O U".

"I hate that Deadpool." Senator Kelly groaned.

--

"You get back here this instant you red-masked c-" Slab called for Deadpool as the Nasty Boyz chased them in a stolen taxi, but his cursing was cut off by Deadpool popping out the sunroof of the limousine to open fire on them.

"Wait, if Deadpool is up there, then who is driving?" Connie asked the group, and that's when Yukio made a shocking realization. "Oh my god, Demon Bear is driving!" she exclaimed pointing to a demonic bear that was taking the wheel. "How can that be?!"

--

"That's right folks, Lawrence Abrams is here to report that the insanely infamous insane mercenary Deadpool has started an intense car chase where he's hijacked a limo belonging to Senator Robert Kelly and is being chased by a group of other mutants called the Nasty Boyz." Lawrence Abrams said on the television at the Baxter Building, where Garnet, Pearl, Colossus and Wolverine had now caught wind of the event. "And there's also some kinda bear driving the limo for some reason. Why's there a bear?! Who gives a damn! And now onto Sally Floyd with politics!"

"Deadpool." Colossus glowered in embarrassment. "Come my friends, we must go and handle this crisis ourselves." He declared while preparing to leave the building. "But you let Connie go on that mission for her optimism." Pearl stated to the metal mutant while setting Reed and Sue's young son Franklin Richards on the floor.

"We know Pearl, but that maniac is a whole 'nother level of unpredictable." Wolverine grumbled. "And there's a high chance Connie's life is at risk here! Right Garnet?"

"Logan is correct. I can see multiple paths where things go horribly wrong." Garnet agreed with Logan. "Oh, you're leaving already?" Franklin's older sister Valeria asked them. "Mom and Dad were just about to introduce you to H.E.R.B.I.E."

"It's alright Valeria, they still have friends to help." Susan assured her daughter. "Go on Gems, we'll catch up with you back at the mansion."

"It's been a pleasure to be shown around the Baxter Building and meeting the kids Sue." Pearl said gratefully and shook the Invisible Woman's hand. "I especially like how Franklin reminds me of Steven."

"Bye Ms. Pearl!" Franklin said goodbye by hugging the tall Gem's leg. "Oh, goodbye to you too Frank." Pearl replied. "Hey, what about me?!" the Four's AI H.E.R.B.I.E exclaimed irritably. "Don't I get anything to say?!"

--

"Oy Cain, you gotta check this out!" Black Tom called to Juggernaut while he was watching TV. The Brotherhood of Mutants had stopped to refuel their ship and Black Tom had run off on his own when he discovered a TV shop playing the same news report of Deadpool's car chase. "What say we give Deadpool an old one-two before Mags finishes up?"

"You son of a bitch, I'm in!" Juggernaut exclaimed eagerly, giving his teammate a fist-bump that knocked Tom to the ground. "You okay there?"

--

"We have your limousine surrounded! Come out of the vehicle with your hands in the air!" a police officer barked into a bullhorn as they had Deadpool and pals backed into a corner. "I would make a police brutality joke, but even I know that would be too soon." Wade said to the readers as he screeched the limo to a stop, making donuts on the street and damaging numerous police cars in the process.

"Okay, now you're just either showing off or defying us." The cop with the megaphone japed. Just then, a mighty thud briefly shook the ground. And another. And another. And another. And-

"Quit stalling writer, we know who it is! It's the goddamn Juggernaut!" Deadpool interrupted the third-person omniscient narrator. "Literally everyone and their goddamn long lost relatives know who he is!" The mighty Juggernaut continued inching closer to the fanboying mercenary while the police scattered out of fear of him and Peridot poked her head out the sunroof to see what was up.

"Uh, Wade?" the petite Gem squeaked nervously. "You know who that is right?"

"Didn't I just say that it's ol' Juggernaut?!" Wade exclaimed to his new best friend. "Oh, the things I could say about how much of a badass he is! This guy has beaten the shit outta Cyttorak, the Thing, Colossus, Blob & Thor and even called banging She-Hulk a stalemate! Maybe, that last one was actually a cl-"

Before Deadpool could finish the sentence, Juggernaut grabbed him by the neck with just two fingers and brought him very close to his helmeted face. "Hello Wade." He beamed callously. "Hey Cainy, is that new toothpaste I smell?" Deadpool greeted him nervously. "What flavor is it this time, Feeling Bad About Your Shitty Mutant Powers So You Get New Ones from Cyttorak?"

"Goddamn he went there." Black Tom muttered, only to receive a glare from his partner.

"Deadpool!" Garnet called for the Merc with a Mouth as she, Pearl, Colossus and Wolverine entered the scene. "Oh, hey guys." Peridot nervously waved to her fellow Crystal Gems. "What brings you here?"

"We came here to take control of this current situation." Pearl explained. "No matter how much you want to swear and kill and all sorts of other crass activities, we still need your help in saving a friend of ours."

"I appreciate you want me to be more involved in this story Mordecai," Wade said to Pearl. "but can this wait a bit? I'm currently in the middle of worshipping the Juggernaut, bit-"

However within seconds, Deadpool was mashed into the ground by Juggernaut, leaving only a few scattered body parts lying in a puddle of blood. "Oh, so rude!" his disembodied head declared indignantly. "And to think we were buddies at one time Marky-Mark." He then turned to face the audience one last time before the degenerate would meet his not very possible untimely end. "But since I'm literally nothing but blood, my head, a few fingers, an upper arm and my dick right now, let's lighten the mood a little with some more gags, shall we?"

"As if we didn't waste enough time already."

--

"I love the smell of 372,844 pancakes in the morning." Deadpool declared as he flipped his last pancake and added it to the growing mountain of pancakes. "Smells like victory!"

"Why on Earth would you need this many pancakes?" Bismuth asked while Deadpool turned on the ceiling sprinklers to pour maple syrup all over each and every one of them at once. "Well, that's pretty clever I'll admit."

--

"Okay Peridot, ace this test and you're on the team!" Wade, now a coach for the girls' swim team comprised of Lapis, Bismuth, Domino, Warhead, Yukio, Outlaw, Copycat, Psylocke & Nephrite, announced to their soon to be newest member Peridot while she prepared to dive.

"This is it Peri, get this right and you'll make everyone proud!" Peridot muttered to herself while adjusting her cap and gazing at Lapis. As soon as Coach Wade blew the whistle, Peridot leaped into the water…and soon began struggling to keep herself afloat in a very exaggerated manner. "AAAAAGH, SOMEONE HELP! LIFEGUARD, COACH, SOS! THIS WAS A HORRIBLE IDEA!" she shrieked for help before the chlorinated water won out and she sank to the bottom.

"I'll save you!" Cable roared while assuming the role of a lifeguard, preparing to jump in the water after her when Wade stopped him. "No no, wait for the punchline."

When Peridot finally breached the surface, she dramatically gasped for air and then frantically paddled towards the end of the pool, grabbing the ledge with a serious expression on her face. "So, how do you like my swimming?" she asked, acting like nothing had happened. However, no one else was there to answer except for Deadpool. "Hey, where did everyone go?!"

"They jumped ship an hour ago because they were tired of waiting." Wade answered. "But you still get on the team cause you really made me laugh."

--

"Gotta say Lapis, we got quite a team here." Deadpool remarked proudly to his fellow baseball player Lapis. "Uh, yeah, they're great." Lapis nervously replied while failing to get the joke. "So, who's on first?"

"Yeah, and what's on second." Wade responded eagerly. "No, I want to know who's on first." Lapis continued asking. "Exactly! We already established that who's on first, what's on second and I don't know is third."

"Wait, do you not know their names or are those seriously what they're called?" the ocean Gem asked, causing great irritation for her team captain. "Dammit Lapis, you spoiled the punchline!" he reprimanded her. "In fact, this whole Abbott and Costello tribute was just an excuse to see you dress up as Bob again! I mean, can you blame me with those shorts?"

"Abbott and who now?" Lapis remarked with a raised eyebrow.

"You really need to get out more." Wade deadpanned, lowering his eyelids in response.

--

"Welcome back one and all to Celebrity Jeopardy." Pearl announced, now dressed as Alex Trebek. "Now before we proceed, I'd like to apologize on the behalf of our contestants to all viewers with rather unusual lifestyles. We here at the studio refuse to judge anyone based on how they live, and sincerely hope you accept our apologies. Now then, let's proceed with our contestants."

Deadpool was in the podium closest to Pearl, now dressed as Sean Connery. "Mr. Connery is in first place with only -1 dollar." Pearl began recapping for the viewers at home. "About as many points as your mother gave you!" Wade cackled.

"Classy." Pearl responded crossly before shining the spotlight on Lewis Black, aka Peridot. "Mr. Black now has a score of, shockingly enough, -6,000 dollars." She explained, prompting the small Gem turned abrasive comedian to climb up on top of her podium in the middle. "Is that enough to buy my own bus?"

"And finally, Josh Brolin, now having raised 35 dollars." Pearl concluded while Juggernaut assumed the role of the aforementioned actor many may know as a certain Mad Titan. "I don't feel so good." Cain muttered. "Damn, walked right into that one!"

"Very well then. With introductions out of the way, let's move onto the board." Pearl stated, moving her eyes from the podiums to the categories. "Tonight our categories are Annals of History, Potent Potables, What Bulls Hit, Jokes, Popular Foreign Television, Places with Names Ending in 'Nia' and Video Games." Deadpool then pressed his buzzer. "Mr. Connery, you have the board."

"I'll take What Bullshit for $500 Al." Wade announced with a stupid grin on his face, clearly misreading the category he had chosen. "And I can tell you plenty of things that are bullshit."

"No, it clearly says What Bulls-" Pearl began to correct the masked contestant before she came to a realization. "Whoa! Okay, walked right into that one. Anyways, the question is: "It is commonly believed bulls are enraged by this color". Mr. Connery?"

"I'll tell you something I've hit recently." Deadpool chortled. "Hit up a few bars over the past week while hanging with your mom. She and I had a wonderful time, if you get what I mean! Wink wink, nudge nudge."

"I don't even have a mother!" Pearl ranted hotly. "And can we please return to what was happening earlier?! These pop culture references are nothing but a waste of time!"

"Thank you!"

"Boldface, you ignorant slut."

--

"Oh no, Wade!" Peridot yelled for Deadpool as she dashed out the limo to check on the puddle of blood and body parts that was once her new friend. "Please speak to us you clod, you can't die like this!"

"That's because I can't!" Deadpool proudly declared and in a beautiful Disney-like spectacle, slowly reassembled himself until he was the full-bodied lovable manic once again. "Healing factor baby! Got it when some asshole tried to cure my cancer, along with looking like a walking tumor."

"Uh hey, remember us?" the Nasty Boyz cried out in unison, catching the merc's attention. "Oh right, you guys. Gotta wrap up the chapter somehow." As a result, Wade opened fire on the evil mutants, shooting them in the arms, kneecaps and especially their dicks. "Oh and Bismuth, Peridot? You guys got Black Tom & Juggies. I'll take Garnet and Pearl!"

"You got it, I guess." Bismuth complied before she and her little friend squared off with Cassidy & Cain, leaving Wade alone against the senior Crystal Gems.

"Hey, what about us?" Lapis asked the writer, who responded by typing, "Didn't think that far ahead. You guys can just do crowd control."

"Okay Q-Bert and Drinking Bird," Deadpool exclaimed. "you two may have thousands of years of battle experience on your show but in terms of franchise ages, I've been doing this for far longer! There was even a graphic novel trilogy where an actually insane version of me killed the rest of Marvel, tons of classic literature characters and even other versions of me!"

"Do you have any idea what he's saying anymore?" Pearl asked Garnet. "I'm not sure. I fear he may be too unpredictable for us to comprehend!" Garnet answered fearfully. "You can try if you want." Deadpool beckoned them with a silly dance. "But I can assure you that hilarity will ensue!"

Pearl leaped at the Merc with a Mouth, but she was quickly denied a hit when Wade did a pirouette and kicked her in the back, sending her flying into a lamppost. "See, what did I tells ya?!"

Garnet tried her hand at attacking by enlarging her gauntlets & launching them at her foe, but they proved to be useless against him. Deadpool then rapidly fired his gun at Garnet, but she blocked all the bullets with her gauntlets and then finally moved so fast, not even Deadpool could catch her and was punched in the face.

"Wow okay, you got the guts!" Wade yelled while readjusting his head from the hit. "Seems like I really am a bit outmatched by you Garnet. Or maybe a certain someone just wants to make things fair!"

"Come on you maniac, what else can you throw at us?!" Pearl asked pointing her spear. "Oh what else can I throw?" Deadpool replied, letting out a sinister giggle while wearing a pair of shiny glasses and clasping his fingers together. "Let me show you!"

Whipping out his katana blades, Deadpool laughed maniacally while using them to tear the background apart, leaving nothing but a blank white space behind. "WELCOME CRYSTAL GEMS TO MY TURF! I PRESENT TO YOU THE FOURTH WALL, WHERE LOGIC IS JUST AS ILLEGAL AS JAYWALKING!"

"This is starting to remind me of that Uncle person." Pearl muttered in awe. "I thought we promised to never speak of that man again." Garnet instructed the former servant. "Well if he wants to make jokes and talk to the audience, then so can we."

When the two Gems joined hand, there was a bright shimmer as the pair merged into the returning glamorous Sardonyx. "Ladies, gentlemen and everyone in-between, the Gem Hostess with the Mostest has finally returned!" the fusion of Garnet and Pearl announced. "And it seems we have a very special guest star today."

"Sardonyx, huh?" Deadpool muttered while scrolling through the Steven Universe wiki for statistics. "Oh I see, she's here because we can both break the fourth wall!"

"A worthy opponent for you I must say!" Sardonyx chortled before smashing Deadpool in with her hammer. "Of course you realize this means war!" Wade roared, proceeding to whip out numerous cartoon guns, launching them all at once. "RATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATA-RATA!" he screamed while launching lead at his fusion foe, following up with a declaration of "Omae wa mou shindeiru."

"N-NANI?!" Sardonyx cried out in shock before she spontaneously combusted with a cry of "HIDEBU!" However, the explosion cleared up and she was perfectly fine. "Psyche! Hammer time!"

Before Sardonyx could hit Deadpool with the hammer again, he disappeared into a cartoon hole like it were a solid object and reappeared out another. "Ha, that Spot douche should take notes from-OH GOD!"

"Anyone up for Whack-A-Mole?!" Sardonyx exclaimed, proceeding to whack her opponent multiple times with her hammer before he vanished and popped out another hole. And another, and another, and another, and another, until the hiding began to tire him out. "Jesus she's good." Wade panted, and then he began to make a plan. "I swore that I would never use this the moment I stole it from those schmoes, but I'm left with no choice!"

Sticking a hand up his red-clad butt, Deadpool pulled it out while holding a small black jewel that seemed similar to the Infinity Stones. "Ough, I also swore to never use it again because looking for it is a literal pain in my ass!"

"That Infinity Stone isn't canon!" Sardonyx objected while sounding like a stereotypical nerd. "Oh it may not be canon my dear, but we're in the Fourth Wall where anything could happen." Deadpool explained deviously. "With this Continuity Stone, I could warp all reality to my whims! I could use it to go back in time and erase One More Day by preventing Civil War from happening, or maybe beat the shit outta that Judas Traveller prick and his butt-buddies! But what I plan on doing now is using this stone to erase you from this reality once and for all!"

"Oh no, I don't feel so good!" Sardonyx dramatically announced as she felt herself fading away. "I'm melting! Melting! Oh what a world, what a world!" With that, the fusion finally vanished and presumably Garnet & Pearl as well. As Deadpool let out a heavy sigh, he suddenly realized that the Continuity Stone was now missing. "What the?! Where did it go!?"

"Looking for something Ninja Spidey?" a familiar voice rang out. Sardonyx was now back to normal and smugly held the Stone in her hand, setting it down like a golfball and swinging it at Deadpool's eye, causing his body to explode.

"Can I at least get one F-bomb in Mr. Author Man? Please?" Wade begged the author by putting on his best puppy dog eyes until his disembodied head landed in one of Sardonyx's hands. "To be or not to be," she began quoting Shakespeare. "That is the question."

"I got a question." The mercenary's head growled angrily. "On a scale from one to ten, how much do you think I FUCKING hate you?"

"Watch the mouth sonny, children could be reading this!" Sardonyx chortled. "Now then, let's finish this chapter!"

--

One bypass of the chapter break later, Sardonyx and the defeated Deadpool were now out of the Fourth Wall and back in the real world where the Nasty Boyz, Juggernaut & Black Tom were now nowhere to be seen.

"Okay, I give up!" Deadpool complained while his body began to regenerate. "I'll go with your stupid plan! Didn't really need to treat me like how Pearl killed that one Irishman during the Easter Rising."

"It was an accident!" Pearl exclaimed as she and Garnet defused. "And how did you possibly know?"

"But before we move onto the next chapter, can we make a quick stop first?" Deadpool asked. "There's a joke I think needs resolving."

--

"You'll never take the whale from me Wilson!" Captain Ahab exclaimed as he engaged in a swordfight with the dread pirate Straw Hat Deadpool and his motley crew. "I'll surrender when I get eaten alive!"

"Funny you should mention that Habbo." First Mate Peridot sneered before she whistled loudly for Willy to breach the surface, breaking most of Ahab's ship and swallowing him whole. "I'll get you for this Wade!" Ahab shrieked vengefully. "You haven't seen the last of me!"

When Ahab was finally swallowed, Willy gave the pirates his farewells and dove back into the water, free again at last.

"What did parodying both Free Willy and Moby Dick have to do with anything?" Pearl asked Straw Hat Deadpool. "You know what? After what I've experienced, I don't think I want to know."

--

At long last, the chapter is done! Good thing too, because my partner has just started college as we write this and all that education is gonna cut into his freetime!

Yes indeed, the next chapter will take a bit longer to come out because of college. But I still get a few months off soon, so there you go.

Well, that should settle it. You get some free writing done and I won't take your ANDY ONLY stuff. Hasta luego amigo! And be sure to give my regards to your mom!

[hamliet]

Messy, Perfect Redemption: Dazai

My least favorite trope in fiction is probably redemption via death. It just seldom works for the best possible story and more often than not comes across as an author wanting to take the easy way out with having now made the audience like the character, but not having to deal with the repercussions with their relationships with other characters and actual work of changing. Which honestly is also fair. Writing is hard.

But one of the things I love about Bungou Stray Dogs is how the entire story is basically Dazai’s redemption arc in all its disastrous messy glory. Redemption is hard, becoming a better person is exhausting and it doesn’t happen overnight. Despite an often cavalier attitude towards everyone around him, Dazai never loses sight of Odasaku’s last words to him.

"Listen. You told me that you might find a reason to live if you lived in a world of violence and bloodshed. You won't find it. You must know that already. Whether you're on the side who kills people or the side who saves people, nothing beyond what you would expect will appear. Nothing in this world can fill that lonely hole you have. You will wander the darkness for eternity. (...) Be on the side that saves people. If both sides are the same, become a good man. Save the weak, and protect the orphans. Neither good nor evil means much to you, I know... but that'd make you at least a little bit better. (...) Of course I know. I know better than anyone. Because... I am your friend."

Leaving the mafia and deciding to save people from now on is a good step, but it’s a process, as we see. It’s choosing every day to save orphans, to protect the weak, and even after making the overall choice to become a better man, there are still plenty of struggles along the way. It’s what makes Dazai such a compelling, powerful and ultimately hopeful character for me.

I know Atsushi is often seen as representing Dazai’s second chance after Akutagawa, his redemption in a sense, and that’s not wrong at all. Atsushi is definitely a major, even the main, part of it, but in my opinion it’s not the whole of it. Dazai’s mentoring of Atsushi is a double-edged sword: on the one hand, it absolutely is a part of his redemption. He’s genuinely trying to do his best with Atsushi, and I do think he cares for him--clearly, he cares enough to let himself be captured by the mafia, even.

On the other hand, ignoring a kid you hurt for a kid you didn't is not redemption in and of itself when you could still do something about it. It’s not like Akutagawa has given up on Dazai in any way; he’s pretty desperate for Dazai’s acknowledgement even now.

If saving one requires you to abandon the other, are you really a better person for it ? Like, if you wanna save orphans, you kinda have to include the one who's literally begging you to save him and who is only in this bad place because of you.

If joining the agency would have redeemed Dazai, we wouldn’t have a story, though again I’m not minimizing the importance of this or the resonance of Dazai’s mentoring of Atsushi. But in joining the agency, Dazai left someone behind--more than one someones, actually. Dazai’s redemption is a process that will require him to face the harm he caused in the mafia and as much as possible, fix it. And he can’t fully redeem himself until he integrates with his shadow. Unlike Atsushi whose shadow is directly personified in Akutagawa, though, Dazai’s is in several other people (we could also consider Odasaku and Atsushi part of the anima), including Akutagawa, Chuuya, Dostoyevsky, and Mori.

Even the next time Dazai saves an orphan (Kyouka), we find out that a lot of the cruel ways Akutagawa trained her came from how Dazai trained him.

It’s a consequence coming back to Dazai that his mentee decides to save a child trapped in the mafia whom everyone wants to give up on, a child whose been through the same training he forced Akutagawa into (which I should remind you includes a canonical mock execution). The difficulties of saving Kyouka are probably exactly why Dazai took so long to make baby steps towards Akutagawa. But to his credit, while he’s not exactly compassionate with Kyouka while she’s imprisoned, Dazai does save her. If mentoring a kid on the verge of turning into a criminal is the first step to reconciling with his mafia self, then Dazai’s helping save Kyouka is the next one.

However, he doesn’t fully understand the cruelties of he did to Akutagawa, as shown in how he mocks him after his capture by repeating Akutagawa’s worst fears to him:

I know Dazai’s playing a long game with setting up Atsushi and Akutagawa’s partnership in shin soukoku, but the ends don’t always justify the means and that’s a lesson often shown to us in BSD (it’s in part the reason Dazai left the mafia; he couldn’t buy that Oda’s death was justifiable because it got rid of Mimic and got the Port Mafia their black ticket). This type of triggering really isn’t okay. Like I said here, Dazai is in part the cause of Atsushi and Akutagawa’s struggles to get along, and he should be part of reconciling that schism as well.

I know while some people are annoyed that fans call a person two years older than someone else their father figure, but the manga itself draws this comparison and codes Dazai/Atsushi and Dazai/Akutaqawa as a mentor/mentee relationship which is 99% of the time coded as parental in literature (and it definitely is here). Akutagawa literally draws the comparison himself between his relationship with Dazai and Atsushi’s with his abusive orphanage headmaster. Yes, Akutagawa’s making some logical jumps here (refusing to acknowledge that Dazai is just as much Atsushi’s mentor as his), but the manga wants us to make this comparison.

As Atsushi wasn’t able to reconcile his frustration and hurt towards the orphanage headmaster, he’ll probably do so through Akutagawa and through Dazai, because Atsushi’s view of Dazai is basically that he’s already redeemed and fantastic and justified in his choices--again, I know Atsushi complains about his irresponsibility sometimes, but it’s mostly played as a joke and isn’t a serious critique of just how he treated Akutagawa, despite Atsushi hating Akutagawa for how he treated Kyouka (take that train of thought a little further, Atsushi).

But onto Dazai’s other relationships. It’s telling that Dazai is at his most unrestrained and violent in the mafia when he partners with Chuuya, who despite being very restrained thanks to him being capable of uninhibited destruction that would lead to his own death without said restraint, knows who Dazai is and what he’s capable of from the very beginning (he’s so much as seen Dazai murder the orphans who comprise the Sheep even after promising Chuuya he wouldn't). Kunikida is Chuuya’s foil in that he works most closely with Dazai in the agency and is perpetually ready to strangle him, but Kunikida is also incredibly principled and restrained--yet he is significantly the only member of the agency who, prior to the Guild Arc, did not know Dazai used to be in the mafia.

Kunikida’s ideals including saving everyone if possible. Both Chuuya and Kunikida represent these two extremes of what Dazai is capable of--and yet notably both of them care about saving children and are in many ways more compassionate people than Dazai.

The one time we see Chuuya talk about killing a kid is with Q, who notably is introduced to us as another child with the soukoku partnership team-up.

Q, a child with half-dark hair and half-white hair (gee I wonder what that symbolizes) is a child made to curse the world and hate ever being born. Chuuya and Dazai team up to save him but contemplate killing him.

Dazai’s choice not to kill Q is stated to be to save himself, which is probably is, but it’s also symbolic of how Dazai’s saving other people is saving himself (and also ties back to another quote Odasaku liked to repeat from Natsume: “everyone exists to save themselves”).

But Chuuya’s motivation, as I wrote before, is because he’s grieved over the loss of his comrades. Chuuya really cares about people, including Dazai, and the fact that Dazai is actually going to far as to model Atsushi and Akutagawa’s team-up on his team-up with Chuuya pretty strongly implies Dazai doesn’t hate Chuuya as much as he says he does. To be able to truly leave the mafia, he has to make peace with those relationships there. It’s part of being honest with himself: like Atsushi, acknowledging the darker shadows, and like Akutagawa, acknowledging the better parts of him too.

At present, Dostoyevsky proves a perfect foil for Dazai, as @linkspooky has written here. They’re the same in a lot of ways, but Dostoyevsky has allowed nihilism and a god complex to completely consume him and is not trying to be human, whereas Dazai still tries to save people and was devastated by Oda’s death. Dostoyevsky’s ability, whatever it was, works by touching someone like Dazai’s, but since Dazai’s No Longer Human negates another’s abilities, Dazai is the only person on which Fyodor’s ability will not work, making them the perfect counters for each other.  Dostoyevsky is what Dazai could be if his feelings of alienation from human society (a prominent theme in the real life Dostoyevsky’s works) were taken to their utmost extreme, and so it’d be fitting for him to ultimately defeat Fyodor through the relationships he does have (including Atsushi and Akutagawa). 

To return to Odasaku, Odasaku is also kind of a warning to Dazai as much as he is a man Dazai wants to become like. When Odasaku lost the orphans under his care, he fell into complete despair and knowingly embarked on a suicide mission to do what Mori wanted him to. Still, Dazai tried to save him. He wasn’t able to save his life, but Odasaku’s death saved Dazai. Yet it’s potentially concerning that Mori used Odasaku’s human connections to engineer his downfall, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Mori uses Dazai’s to try to engineer his downfall later on (like, way, way on).

The difference is that Dazai is a good foil to Mori, too, in understanding what makes people tick and always thinking several moves ahead. Mori groomed Dazai from the age of like fourteen (or younger) to be his successor in the mafia, manipulating his suicidal tendencies and hopelessness to get what Mori wanted from him. It’s telling that the earliest we have of Dazai is him with Mori, in that Mori instead of caring for a suicidal patient decided to take him along to murder the mafia’s boss and induct him into the mafia thereby. The thing about Jungian stories is that there are often some Oedipal tendencies to them--like, for example, a character needs to overcome/break away from completely/kill their father.  I can see Dazai at some point having to overcome Mori and his influence to cement his arc, but that’s highly speculative (yet fits with Mori’s build up as a villain), so we’ll see.

[deviationdivine]

Wake Up | domestic!Android AU Part 1 (Connor x Reader)

gif by arsuf 

F!reader x Connor

13.6k words

Detroit: Become Human - 1 Year Anniversary Release Celebration

A revolution may divide the city but it will never divide you...

tw: Angst, Fluffy Connor in the midst, Language, Suggestive Themes, Violence

a/n: First part of mini-series AU “Wake Up”. An introductory chapter one. Apologies for how long this took but I struggled and I am not happy with the end result. However, it’s finally here. • Connor is the latest high tech domestic model built with a collection of extra features, skills and functions making him the most advanced of his kind. As your personal assistant he is equipped with becoming the perfect partner if you so require. Falling in love with your personal android was never part of the equation nor was his break into deviancy...

“My name is Connor. I am your personal assistant. My features will allow me to take extensive care of your home, do the cooking, mind children and repair any problematic issues that arise within the household’s utilities. 

As I am the most advanced make I can perform various tasks including but not limited to acts of a sexual nature. If you so require I am capable of being the perfect partner…”

Perfect is a conceptual illusion in every sense or so you come to believe. Why do humans think in terms of excellence when most shining examples tarnish in glaring flaws? Even technology can be made wrong or needing improvement not long after distribution. Faulty wiring, danger of overheating and causing harm of a radioactive proponent all seem minuscule in comparison. 

Today, in the future, there is a grander blueprint mapping out the most innovative, extreme to date.

When it becomes alive, mimics the very corporeal state of being born unto humans since man breathed life in this vast universe, mirroring visage of those who wish to create in their likeness.

How does it go from technological wonder to abstruse thinking? Concepts can be a greater weapon. They can also reach for too much too soon. Is this the true state of AI meant for consumer consumption?

Cart them off exclusively as merchandise no matter how human they look. Isn’t that their appeal? The more something foreign, inexplicable but resembles us the more it is accepted. Basic instinctual deep thinking bred into all humans. Difference is an attest beneath surface value. Judge a book by a cover but if there are features hiding its distinct nature by all means use it.

Laziness might be a better solution in this mathematical equation. Imperfect perfection makes way for future development. Those are the very elements that change the world.

Can you even imagine for one second, one little point in life it would come to change yours? So small in a world full of billions but here in Detroit home of Cyberlife and its creation the pilot sparks. Alight with technological revolution.

Androids are here. Androids are owned. Bought as slaves to humanity and used beyond measure, no consideration that those made in image could possibly develop feelings. Emotions are heavy. They are what make us all human. Can machine truly become human?

  You never wanted one. Mostly it made you uncomfortable witnessing cruelty by specific ‘owners’ on the bustling city streets. It’s everywhere. Even today, chillier, more specifically a frigidity creeping into bones.

Eyes shift over a couple walking briskly as you draw coat closer together up throat. Keeping wind seeping through to tangle around your body but watching them waltz their merry way without care. Of course they have none. Their female android, an AX400 to be exact, is taking care of two rowdy children.

Honestly it must be nice. Not having to parent after deciding to add more to the burdening populace. Maybe that’s just your pessimism talking. Simple fact though? Could be that too but who knows?

Just another one of those days but it is about to change drastically. Passing a Cyberlife store does pique curiosity. Window displays my God. They line them up as if that’s all they are.

They offer whatever a human wants and yet not all can bother to treat them fairly. Is it enough androids are made to look as everyone else? Would a genuine human being treat another so despicably? Yes. A resounding yes because it never goes away. People treat people with disdain for every reason, every prejudice and why should that shock? Androids have become an additional target. 

Honestly it makes you sick. Never did you once realize this is what would change things completely. On this very day, minding business walking home from another tiring bustle  

More than one occurrence struck you right in the gut. A previous household model absorbs brunt of   obscenities and physical humiliation. A scene like this turned your stomach. 

The moment it came to intervene you received an interrupting phone call. Unfortunately this was the start of big changes in your life.

What does one do discovering death of a relative? Closeness is a fundamental of familial connections. For you? Well, let’s say it didn’t quite work out.

  “What do you mean he…died?” Answering in a quiet breath, cell phone a tight clutch in hand stalling in breezy climate, everything stops around your personal orbit.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” a familiar voice speaks over your ingenious disbelief.

Ignoring your pleas for a proper answer it becomes increasingly cruel on the woman’s breath digging truths in your ear. Whether she realizes this or not it’s up for debate. “You do realize this was coming. It isn’t as if he were young and healthy. Frankly, I am surprised you are having such a negative reaction.”

Negative is exactly the type of reaction! What does she expect? “Of course I’m having a reaction!” Practically screaming into your phone made the chilled air sting worse. How is this happening? How can this even be real?

“Oh, it’s all right, Y/N. Get it out now. It’ll be better if you don’t make a scene at the funeral.”

Anger is a burning pyre ready to fan over and incinerate. One snide comment reminds how much you can’t stand this person. She’s not even blood related. An ‘aunt’ isn’t technically qualified to hold the title and that’s fine. Just another excuse to dig at you in this family but there is no family left. Your father – he’s dead.

Money fixes everything? Unlikely but still nothing surprises you more than receiving something from an estranged parent. Generous sums to a black sheep or as you’re sure greedy auntie bitch of the hour calls you behind your back. She is one woman who deserves that damn moniker. Especially when it’s clear there are no connections left. Aunt Cruella, as christened ages ago by your best friend, made short work of your uncle. Certainly bled him dry continues to do so with his left over money after he succumbed to stress in a massive heart attack. Why do people like her thrive using, snide and heartless while others –?

What can you do then? Except you fall into an overwhelming sense of losing time and never extending an olive branch. Why is the universe so cruel? Why can’t you turn back time, forget every stupid thing that ever happened to drive a rift?

Part of you couldn’t stand the idea of being alone rest of your life. Maybe that’s why using part of a small deposit felt right. Watching so many gradually fall into current technological commercialism lead to most having their own android. It seems almost a little too barbaric making them cater to every whim. Honestly, you have no idea why this is needed. Do you really need him? 

No, he isn’t… He. Yes, he. 

Despite manufacturing Connor is a he in every sense.  Even then you saw as much. Now is much more complicated or you are just as ridiculously naive as you’ve always been told. Who cares about naivety? It is simple opinion. No. This is a belief one that surely would have left nothing to you in an event of final family member’s passing. Yet here you are with him.

You recall when he first arrives unaware of how efficient Cyberlife retail truly is. Why should you be surprised? Deliveries have gone from generic dairy of yesteryear, beyond personalized grocery orders and straight to personalized beings. Androids: alive or not alive?

In conjunction with preprogramming he sounds so lively. In his voice a natural husky dulcet and his eyes a deep soulful brown. Souls in androids are impossible but it’s the only way you think to describe warm chocolate. Hotter than a mug of it steeped in whip cream vanishes as a ghost beneath steaming liquid. 

Flecks of caramel shine in hypnotic swirls enriching accents of russets in muddy hues, the very first thing captivating attention as he offers his list of functions. Even falling upon the last is difficult to decipher how caught up you are in a consummately asymmetrical visage. 

He is far too pretty to look at and you try to ignore these facts. The facts of your newly purchased personal android possessing an aura of physical attractiveness. A fabrication in aesthetics you remember. A way to cover up what he actually is beneath soft synthetic skin dusted as constellations of freckles. 

Tiny beauties cresting upon sharp cheekbones, chiseled jaw, purposely formed to elicit a reaction. This is not at all what you expected but it’s never something to forget. Little do you realize in this moment Connor will always burn brightest to memory? Little do you understand how events will unfold but they shall.

  “Is there a problem?” he asks habitual to programming. 

Societal protocols run a gamut through system piecing together the best course of action. It is only his first day interior of your home. He is of a sense of determination to complete whatever task you assign. 

Determination is not part of proper function. However, he minded the concept. It will be efficient for current issue. “I may be able to rectify your issue. What do you require of me?”

 Require? What?

You cough, inhaling sharply at his head cocking so innocently. A droop of hair flutters atop forehead as a sole rebel willing to fight immaculate armies. He is very well put together. Not that you mean the whole manufactured part! He just – looks like a really good looking guy who takes care of his appearance. Hair mostly but…

Wow, Y/N. Real nice for your first try at handling a conversation with an android.

Not that this is the first android you’ve been in contact with. Difficult not to be when they’re all over but as your very own?

OK Cyberlife! What is up with making him look like real life Prince Charming?  I mean look at this perfection. Is this required? Are they allowed to do this to poor unsuspecting humans?

Watching his brows furrow and LED flutter amber somehow pumps the beats of heart faster. Surely it’s a dead giveaway. It’s not every day you’re cursing Cyberlife for practically throwing a chiseled Greek god at you.

Oh, shit, really? Greek God? What the hell is wrong with you? What isn’t wrong with you?

You sigh, clicking tongue at yourself. Frustration doesn’t begin with this!

“Your stress levels are high,” Connor offers a reading of initial scan. “Would you like me to remedy the problem? I have several possible functions that may reduce anxiety. My model comes with every physical attribute you are familiar with in human anatomy.”

A hitch stoppers breathing. Just enough as eyes widen a little at his declaration. Human anatomy as in…? Oh. OH.

Your eyes shift down. Fixating right on his crotch sends a luscious shiver through body. Goosebumps prickle skin, hair standing up on them. First time in forever you’ve had this type of reaction. Not even your ex managed to make you quiver like this. Not that your mind is even there because that’s been over for so long. Frankly that cheating asshole can have his baby momma all to himself. Probably already banged a couple more unsuspecting fools; you clear throat, scratchier than before.

“Connor, that-that’s really nice!” Agreeing with him that he has nice features you laugh nervously. It’s the first day he’s been here and already he’s mentioning his, uh, included *assets* and it’s not his beautiful eyes either. Ah, shit. Why is he made to be a young, attractive male? “But I don’t think that’s necessary. Not right now.”

It only takes a moment before you hear what came out of your mouth. Right now meaning it’ll be fine later?

“Which isn’t to say I’ll need it later!” Damage control is literally a creator of chaos. Can he just not look so sweet giving these heady ideas? “Just come with me. You’ll need a place to stay. I mean, you are staying here but I mean…” Shit! He’s made this impossible without stammering all over the place. Who gives him the right?

The android’s lips drop open, inevitably looking to provide another set of options but he snaps his mouth shut. Blinking in assessment of his actions to “argue” with your dismissal, Connor pushes away several warnings popping into visual. They are unexpected and not part of his programming.

Instead of speaking he follows your lead, gaze soft and quizzical. Trailing as a newly trained puppy the latest model of Cyberlife’s domestic line becomes further entranced with chirping outside window. No longer able to abide by strict attention he tilts his head at passing pane. Sounds of birds in song flitter and perch on external sill; one ruffles its feathers cleaning with its beak. The other stands still.

He freezes. Both in movement and system analysis he is however conscious of two live creatures. Opposite of android pets universally made available for public sale. His database offers much information outfitting him with the fundamental needs of intelligence and sophistication in his programmed function.

Reaching to open a door you stop when his presence behind you feels empty. It was obvious when he followed but now?

“Connor?”

Cycling indicator fluctuates upon the command of your voice. He snaps around in direction of soft tone. Softer than accustomed since his distribution from Cyberlife shipping to physical store location was riddled with aggressive bystanders. He-he is not meant to mull over his awakening. It does not make him feel anything. No, he is an android. He feels nothing. He is a machine.

Clinical cold manifests deeply behind blocks, barricades in protocols. Connor pushes this strange tickle back underneath wires.

“Apologies for not obeying you, Y/N. It will not happen again. I am efficient.” Nagging at him, strange and uncorrelated to system status, he almost sounds…tense. Connor straightens shoulders, folding hands neatly against lower back. “I was made to be the best of my particular type of domestic models. As an AX800, I am programmed to be a superior prototype.”

Obeying you?

That happens to be the only words you focus on. His choice of them ripple uncomfortably, nearly squeamish in stomach. Is this how you sound? Are you affecting a command or-? No, it’s what he is made to know. That’s the thing. All androids are only made to serve and immediately regret comes back. Maybe you shouldn’t have bought him.

Bought! God, you’re just like those people now. Aren’t you?

No more excuses. No more seeing horrible mistreatment and vowing never to be like them. Even if you never would do any harm losing your father, when you never spoke anymore anyway, still you fear loneliness. Estrangement ruins lives. It really does. What do you have left now? Except for yourself to fend in this world and growing more complicated as the future rambles on.

Detroit is a bustling mix of dilapidated districts, high tech innovations, Cyberlife Tower most significant in those builds. This house is small. Tucked away in a tiny neighborhood away from inner city but you never complain. You are grateful. A roof over the head is the best gift in a mostly gift devoid world.

“Connor, please don’t call it obeying. I-I only wanted to see if you were OK.” Admitting the hesitation beforehand you feel antsy. His LED is blue again but it was amber finding him staring at window.

“My system is fully operational,” he assures, forcing his lips to form a smile.

In actuality his little gesture is a stiff grimace. Eyebrows rise at his attempt. Even if it looks goofy, which is completely not his fault, it’s very – cute.

Again with this! Never mind just focus for once. Pretty comical coming from someone who hardly meditates in the day to day; you step backwards, slipping through threshold, eyes remaining on him. It takes ever ounce of willpower to remain collected. Things are still hard to digest. No matter if it’s been a couple months tangling with all of that legal stuff. Auntie not by blood sure didn’t make it any better. Yet, here you are. Still you stand even while stress is overworking at a job that might as well kill you first.

Offices are pretty dull to work in. At least they would be if they were not a regular cushy job. Piles of paperwork, demands creep up to swallow whole, a boss who just will not stop making things harsher. Mister perfectionist belittles the lower tier all the time. No surprise but it seems the future isn’t as bright as people thought it would. No need to wear shades.

Moving toward window, pulling curtains open a bit to allow sunshine transitions atmosphere from dreary to somewhat cheery. Perfect mask to hide the real truth isn’t it? Sometimes you forget how good you are that. A small smile camouflages best.

You rub hands against the thighs of your jeans. A little sweaty because of nerves but today is big. Being alone always hardly prepares for constant company. Well, he’s meant to be here permanently. That is the initial idea.

“This can be your room.”

Connor’s brow furrows. Studying your movements upon entry, analyzing vitals and their continual fluctuations, the android is confused. His indicator cycles to process the statement as unexpectedly inclusive as it is. “I do not require a room. I am an android.”

Somehow that reaction is to be expected. You sigh, “Just because you’re an android doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have something of your own.”

Ownership is not given to his kind. They are machines. Concepts of acquiring personal effects do not make sense nor are necessary. Connor voices this as per factual protocol. “Thank you for the offer but I am a machine. Machines have no need for accommodations.”

Yes, of course he’s a machine but…

Machine, manufactured and sold without an ounce of actual soul according to android haters you see. Picketing with their signs, so angry about them taking jobs but who made them? They did. Humans decided to and no one complained. Why complain about a technological marvel that can mow your grass, do the dishes and babysit children while living carelessly. That is the difference. Between you and plenty of others there has always been a divide in what you feel. This just crashes down those so-called fantasies. Ones filtering into brain as tiny wisps and at first it was a nice distraction. Finding him so…

“Oh,” a whisper, dawning realization. He is – a machine.

Coming back to the door, grabbing onto handle, you decide to forget the suggestion.

Something sharp stabs at his internal processors. Listening to such a dull syllable slipping almost – upset? Humans’ need for validity and comfort seem to be all too natural. They are highly emotional. The android steps close, head cocked, fingers pressing against surface of door preventing your need to shut it.

Contemplating left him at a cross roads in his programming. He is meant to function specifically and does not need or want anything as you believe. However, he-he could not refuse. It would be impolite. “I- very well, Y/N. I did not meant to be unpleasant. My social parameters are not meant to alarm.”

Alarm? That is not why you… Your breath hitches. Realizing how close he is standing, invading personal space and if it were anyone else? Allowing him is both a conscious need for closeness while still mourning and an illusion. Live up to that woman’s ideas. The title of ‘aunt’ is undeserving.

“Thank you, Connor.”

“You are welcome,” he snaps back to his programming. “What sort of tasks do you have scheduled for me to complete?”

“Scheduled? I, uh…” Shaking a head at his question is clarity. Honestly you are not used to giving tasks to people. Tasks are dropped on your desk until you down. A huff of breath, accompanied with snort is more for yourself. It does garner the most adorable expression on his face. “Maybe you could just…talk to me? For now?”

Connor’s eyebrows scrunch together. His facial expressions capture attention driving the tempo of your heart. He does not understand why. “Are we not speaking already?”

You laugh not at him but his innocent little response there is – Oh. No. 

It only deepens sadness in you now. Knowing where he came from and his confusion in you wanting a little companionship. Androids aren’t supposed to make friends are they? Even if they’re specifically programmed or upgraded to be partners. He mentioned that before.

Luckily a vibration against your thigh saves you. Reaching to pull phone from pocket your eyes train up to his and take a needful exhale. “Sorry, Connor, I have to take this.”

Connor moves aside out of your path. Remaining stationary, hands folded neatly, he awaits further instruction. However, the android’s eyes shift sideways at the sound of your voice outside room. Amber floods his temple.

“Why are you calling me now? No, I’m not wallowing! It’s called mourning. Maybe if you figured out what it was when my uncle died all those years ago you wouldn’t need a dictionary for it.” Hissing fire into phone attacks your aunt by marriage equally. Soon as you pick up! She just had to get in another word. 

Why does she feel the need for this? What’s the point anymore? “No. What do you want exactly? Is this about the trust fund again? I’m using a part to pay bills. What do you think I’m doing?”

Living expenses are still the same old problem. Must be nice for the rich their multi-billion dollar corporations feeding on tech. Just look at Cyberlife.

“It doesn’t matter,” you make it abundantly clear. Does she believe she’s that intimidating? Newsflash to miss upper crust but this labeled black sheep doesn’t take shit from people! “We might’ve had a rocky relationship but I loved him.”

Loved? Connor freezes in corridor. Disobeying processes to offer potential aid in obvious distress he finds himself…curious at such words.

“We were family. What do you think? Don’t you have enough blood money to spend on your Eden Club bots old woman?” Ending it on your terms this time does not fulfill you at all. Always the winner isn’t she? Rubbing it in your face about his death and if your father were here he wouldn’t let it happen. Whatever distances, issues it wouldn’t change that.

“Y/N?”

Connor’s quizzical tone jolts your weary bones. Inhaling sharply, not at all used to this tiny home being occupied by more than one but a heavy swallow fixes your voice. How long was he there? Did he hear all of that? Oh, great.

“I’m fine.” An automatic response always on autopilot gets the job done for you.

He narrows eyes. “Stress is not a healthy component in the balance of human’s…”

“Just leave me alone, Connor!” You snap, tears pricking corners of your eyes before twirling around to run upstairs.

 ^Software Instability

 Connor freezes momentarily. Flooding, filtering in a ripple through code blocks, he blinks in quick succession. Blinding and strange it is not part of his program –

Unable to run diagnostics, tears sparkling in your eyes draw his attention, overtaking protocol. The android’s soft gaze shifts from following your quick disappearance to ceiling indicating footsteps that conclude in a bang. Seemingly you have sealed yourself away. Scarlet pulsates in intervals mingling with amber processing solutions. Leaving you alone is an instruction. He-he cannot ignore. It is what he is programmed for. You are crying. Why must he obey? He must…

 >Obey

>Leave Alone

“Is there anything else you would like?” He asks as sun dips in later hours. Accomplish several menial tasks which he is free to do as he constructs. 

Following your distress several hours ago he feels – confliction. Few commands escape your lips and at times he is unsure with his current scheduling. Abilities are not in question but you appear distant. Did he do something wrong? By wanting to comfort…

 >Analyzing: Y/L/N, Y/N

Stress: 31.6%

Blood Pressure: 124/80

 Studying your face after initializing a vital scan enables Connor to store analysis records. Sleep deprivation, iron deficiency and higher stress than the human body should experience.

“Connor.” You straighten from your position curled upon couch. Mostly you tuck into one side, resting into upholstery and your breathing exhales shaky. Trying to rest off a headache isn’t working. “No. I’m fine. Thank you.”

The android nods but pauses in thought. A fluid habit now out into the world. Yet, he has yet to see much. Only transferring from lab to warehouse storage and ultimately on display in a merchandise kiosk for Cyberlife; he is not widely available as of yet. Detroit is the originator of androids. The product mark on his white uniform christens his manufacturing origins: Made in Detroit.

“There are other functions I was built with,” he explains enthusiastically. “If you would like a domestic partner, it is one of my features.”

Rubbing at your temples ceases the moment he speaks. A domestic partner? Is he talking about that thing again? You draw breath. Unable to look at him now, feeling it twist in stomach, you uncurl, pressing feet on floor. 

“No!” Quickly you cover the rise in heartbeat.

It is so obvious. Wouldn’t be the first time stumbling across sexual depravity in humans. Look no further than the Eden Club. The fact they decided to make that a thing for a household model is honestly not a shock.

God, why do they live in this world? Why do you even have him here? Isn’t this just making you as horrible as everyone else? 

“No,” you repeat softer. “I’d never force you to do something like that.”

It is not forcing when he is programmed, installed with such features. They are high end. As several techs discussed ignoring his presence as though he were – merchandise. Androids are sold. He knows this but has never had a moment to process.

There is zero need. Androids do not think freely. They are constructs built for specific purposes and his are fundamentally clear. He has never performed these functions as he is brand new but Connor feels he can ease stress efficiently. 

Thinking solely as a machine built for a task did not hold true. He felt…strange at your refusal. “Am I not aesthetically pleasing?” Cocking his head, knitting brows together, Connor looks expectantly to you for validation.

Lifting eyes up to him your lips fall open at his question. Did he really ask that? Are androids supposed o ask those kinds of questions? It almost as though he was hurt by that. No, it’s just imagination. Today has been too tiring. Never would have gone so wrong if that woman didn’t call. Honestly answering was your mistake. Story of a sad little life but others have it worse. 

Humans will always be crawling through turmoil, unable to breathe depending on their situations. Maybe that’s why a little part of you wishes he was human. At least acts without programs but this is why he’s here. To fulfill a fantasy, cater to every whim? 

No. To rectify personal aches to pretend that someone is here to offer a shoulder. When there has been nothing going through your father’s death, legal dealings with assets and pressure in job.

“No,” squeezing eyes shut to battle tension, your voice is low. “I mean, yes of course you’re aesthetically pleasing. I mean…you’re handsome. Practically the most…”

What? Beautiful boy you have ever seen? There comes that illusion. They do that on purpose but somehow looking at him you don’t see a machine. How funny is that?

“That isn’t why, Connor.”

Getting up from couch, taking deep breaths and stepping clear of coffee table helps focus. Rubbing palms against face at least wipes away some mess. Eyes are puffy, red from an unnecessary outburst earlier. At certain points life reaches boiling and yelling at him to leave you alone twists in guilt. This is exactly the sort of things Auntie Bitch thrives on.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize to him. Even if it would make no difference it does to you. “This isn’t what I’m used to. Having someone else here.” 

Well, after deadbeat ex anyway but he was a typical freeloader. Thankfully you scrubbed his dirt out of life and home. 

“I’ve never done this before. Having an android I mean. Ordering you to do something that you have no control over is not the type of person I am.” Plus, it’s not as if the androids at those sex clubs have a say. “I’d never do that to you or any of your people. Like some humans would.”

People. A human way to look at him or other androids but that is incorrect. Why would you refer-?

 ^Software Instability

 Connor blinks. The error message was in his vision only briefly and the little blue arrow increasing shudders through his system. He opens his mouth but does not respond. Instead, his eyes fall to your back turning away, pacing in additional stress.

Immediately, the android steps over, placing a hand against your arm. “Y/N, I apologize. Please, do not be upset. Your blood pressure is slightly elevated. You should rest. Perhaps I can produce a remedy befitting in alleviating your headache.”

Touch spreads goose bumps beneath shirt sleeve. Forcing arms to cross over your chest you twist to face him directly an extra tiny thud winds up heart. A key cranks in melody of jewelry box, dancer spins a ballet recital; vintage little tokens, delicate but thunderous in sentimentality. Just a brief glance, pressure of long fingers and it’s the first time you realize how pretty they are. 

Long, beautiful digits on large hands made not born. Yet he is still heavenly.

Sharply a breath slips. Words soothing, touch comforting all those things you crave. Yet this is part of protocols for him. That’s all.

Deeply you sigh. Feeling an unmistakable need burning lower pit of stomach detaches you. A shiver runs a gamut through body and spikes straight to the core of your existence. You squeeze legs tighter together cursing the fact your body decides to get horny over a headache solution. 

Fuck that! It’s his voice. Husky velvet, raspy natural glory and you are so wet. It takes everything not to jump his bones right now. Or mechanical bones? Hmm. Close enough!

“I just need to get extra sleep, Connor.” Dismissing his ideas there are too many running through your mind. Staring down at his crotch again remembering what he said but no. Get it out right now. No matter how much you need to –

You need to go upstairs. Yes, that’ll work.

“Y/N, are you positive? Your levels are fluctuating severely in my scans.”

“Oh? Are they?” Can he also smell arousal? Please, please tell me he can’t.

Connor, however, is not as naive as you believe him to be. Built with specifics in domestic partnership it is easy for him to know when the human body is aroused. Due to your state of duress and current levels of stress he does not wish to explain. It may not be beneficial. It may hurt you.

The android turns eyes down slowly, battling with these thoughts. He is not meant to debate. He is meant to proceed with internal core analysis. Percentages drive him. Yet, he struggles. Is this an error?

“Connor?”

His head snaps up. Connor’s LED flashes in a crescendo to your soft expression.  Hiding the obvious need you have. All humans must expel anxiety in some way. Perhaps he is aesthetically pleasing as you said but –

“I will return to my duties if that is sufficient.” He forces another one of his smiles.

Again the grimace is heartwarming. Albeit in need of practice but-but maybe you can teach him? If there is any good to come out of falling into the same realm as everybody else, then treating him fairly is a start. As if you would treat him bad. No. Why should it matter? Human, android or alien from outer space; you laugh now.

Stupid! So stupid but it’s calming down this literal burning.

Light, airy and symphonic this sound seeps into audio processors. A residual aura prickles sensors, blinding differently than unprecedented software errors. Are they malfunctions? Something soft, sweet cannot be. He has not experienced this before but his attention is solely on you. As brief as the laugh escapes, curling lips in a gentle rise at corners, Connor absorbs the natural human tinkle of chimes that expel so abundantly.

It is the first laugh, genuine laugh he has heard. And it is – beautiful.

The android is so distracted upon this new discovery he does not notice you slipping away. Androids do not possess a need for personal orbits. Their space is not granted freely as they are not free in will like humans. They are meant to serve. Obeying their masters is why they exist.

Yet, Connor can almost feel lack of metaphorical warmth. As you dissipate from his radius so does that laugh that digs into wires. Threading in circuits, causing another minor glitch of instability, forced away from vision in order to watch you; this is a tiny strain, a little piece implanting itself in him.

This is the piece that truly begins everything…

“Y/N,” he calls to interrupt your exit. Without prompt or instruction he once again acts beyond his programming.

Something new, urgent stops everything. You glance over shoulder. Steeling breath at his temple flashing you swear a blip of crimson glows in amber. Just a fraction of a second but you have no idea. Not yet, not then but you will.

“Yes, Connor?” Your breath is quiet, thoughtful meeting his uncertain gaze.

“I-” Connor stumbles. A perfect machine sputters. “Who was on the phone?”

Twisting your body the full way now, nails tap against wall for something to do. A way to hide that hollow pit forming again but no one can hide from analysis. Connor will already know. “That-that was my aunt. My aunt by marriage. She’s- Let’s say she isn’t a very nice person.”

Keeping rest of it bottled up is no solution but telling him will only upset you again. He doesn’t need to know. At least not yet but is this a conversation to share? With an android? Who else will listen? Who else even cares to ask?

Connor did. Is his social program that good?

Honestly, you think nothing of it. For a time it merely seems to be part of what he was built for.

Thinking back at times to this day, first meeting, you will find that so stupid. Naïve isn’t really part of you but he is more. Connor is so much more. It becomes apparent…

August 15th

 Practically slamming front door shakes the entrance with your current state of anxieties. Stress cannot be worse. Spoke too soon during midday. Damn it.

Clearing throat, wiping tears off your face, your breath is staggered. Unable to calm down from such ‘good’ news following that sudden meeting with your boss and everything ripples. Stomach twists badly. Nervous energy or just another month of-

Pressing face into hands poorly stifles sobs. Getting half way through home you just stop. Everything halts as things just don’t want to change. Now this of all things from work it’s going to hurt you in the long run. Your boss did this on purpose. Cutting hours and piling extra to sift through on that fucking computer.

How many sales diagrams, how many logs must you make now? There’s a specific quota. Each person who works database needs to meet their allotment. He threw a ton at you. In order to give leeway to another girl who just started there. Yeah, another potential conquest for the old pervert you’re sure!

What do you get in return? Hours cut and less pay but more weight. A ton sits on your shoulders. Isn’t it enough he humiliated you? Purposely shout out and criticize while leaving his office and you held your head up. Only in the sanctuary of home does it finally snap this flood.

Dropping keys moving uneasily into living room, sinking heavily on couch, you just want to curl up. Maybe it will make things feel better?

Lazily you peer up at television screen. Realizing it is switched on produces a tiny smile. Did he-?

“Welcome home, Y/N.”

Your head lifts up further. Narrowing on Connor stepping into view, he straightens, cocking his head in that adorable way that keeps invading your sleep. Even awake it’s a problematic daydream. He is just on the mind too frequently.

“Connor,” a quiet breath escapes, stilted, weary.

The android reads stress automatically. Forcing tiny fissures in his emotionless facade, splintering through system, he moves swift. However he freezes. Unaware of this strange urgency pulling up tendrils of glittering circuitry, waves undulating beneath shell, eclipses protocols. He must serve. He must obey. Yet he feels something else overshadowing programming. 

System stress battles this ever growing need to break. Crumbling at the seams the more he feels your presence. It is a permanent fixture. As he has become one in your space but Connor is only meant to serve. Why does he feel drawn beyond these stitches of code?

Androids do not question. They cannot experience existential crisis because there is nothing real. They are simple constructs. He – no, there is no personification heralded to androids. They are not alive. Therefore they are not allotted appropriate pronouns.

Connor has heard only one word countless times regarding his kind: It

“Y/N, you have been crying,” he observes through fluctuations.

Pushing them aside, attempting to stabilize, diagnose these errors, the android taps into social function. Sympathizing is not a genuine growth. It is merely part of his program. That is what Connor wishes to believe. He believes in nothing. Nonetheless it does not explain what is easy to machine. Calculations, data processing should offer quantifiable solutions. It is negative.

There is more emotion in his eyes than he knows. You see it. Honestly it surprises enough to cripple a proper response. Easily you brush it off any other time. This time there’s no hiding what he’s already seen. Can imagine what he sees through his eyes. How do androids really perceive the world? Quit thinking for once! All of it is illusion. Remember that.

Cyberlife’s one true goal makes millions, grows powerful in branding of highly sought after merchandise. Still it makes you sick but here you are. Do the same thing because you have Connor. No matter how different it is.

“I’m fine,” a lie tells a thousand truths.

Connor’s brows knit together, mouth twitching, flutter of LED amber. A sign of outward commiseration fights his shackles. He knows you are lying. Despite the fact he should listen and not broach the subject further, the android does not resist this new deviation.

“Why are you lying, Y/N?”

Your breath catches. Stuck in throat along with words it’s a surprise. Even more surprising is the glimmer of irritation on his face. The way his mouth goes lopsided like that is – cute. Wait a minute you’re supposed to be mad. You are! Mad at your goddamn boss for one!

“Lying?” you scoff back at him. “I’m not lying. I said I was fine. And I don’t appreciate you accusing me either, Connor!” Can androids even argue about things so mundane? Isn’t this what you wanted? A real conversation instead of a string of pleasantries, affirmations to duties he accomplishes.

“I am sorry but you are lying!”

Connor’s voice raises an octave higher than typical. Naturally husky, oh, how it deepens. Raw and very alive his tone completely solders you to the spot. Your eyes lift up to his face studying the gleam of his eyes. How strange that spark is. Almost a live wire crackles beneath the surface. A steamy cocoa bright before immediately dimming again; a breath sucks into your lungs cleansing the start of your body. Scarlet shimmers and that’s all the answer you crave.

He appears to swallow. Forcing his Adam’s apple to bob, which is a very realistic detail. Just as the rest of him is so real that sometimes you forget. Sometimes or all of the time, yes, most days his reality masks so well in the mind.

“I-I am…” Connor looks away. Unable to comprehend his reaction it is not part of his – “Forgive me.”

The way his voice lowers tugs at your heart. No. No, that’s not what should happen at all. You’ve seen enough of his kind out there. In the city of Detroit treated so fucked up. Most of them wouldn’t know what to do because they can’t. This is the first time he’s ever snapped from whatever social programming is built in him. He sounded too much like a person. A person with emotions reacting in a very obvious way and the idea Connor’s a person lingers.

You shift forward. Sucking in breath, following his gaze now landing on television, it’s the first time it hits. A ton of bricks, tumbling concrete could never do more damage. Everything about his apology stands still at the developing breaking news story.

ITM is broadcasting live somewhere. Is that outside an apartment rise?

Right now you ignore it. “Connor.”

The softness of your voice draws him back to you. Already he is far too used to it. Joining you upon couch, cocking head, his hand hovers atop yours. Fear of connecting with reality versus construction. He does not touch. He should not be pulled towards these fissures. Emotional surges strike ablaze as a fibrous match lighting his internal mechanisms. Wires push up, tendrils yanking one way towards control’s puppeteer. There it dangles him in strings made of electrical coil. Ensnaring his wrists, snaking around throat, digging thorny and jagged to his brain this is his prison.

Another piece cradles those signs of sensation, innervating beyond a great wall. A red wall gridlocks and crashes against him. It is a giant wave. Scarlet tides engulf and knock the android back where he belongs. Each time he wades closer to you the more it washes him out to that empty sea. He cannot stop. He still pushes. Something inside of him, he does not understand.

“You do not feel well, Y/N. I know this.” Apologizing again, he does not focus on his inner struggle. There should be nothing. He is supposed to be feeling nothing. Is he malfunctioning?

“It’s OK,” appeasing the strobe of scarlet cascading down his face worries. “Please don’t. I don’t want you to be stressed.”

“But I disobeyed. I lost control of…”

“That’s only human, Con.” Slipping on your tongue in an easy breath it’s the first time. Oh this will hardly be the last. Nothing will ever be last with him. If only fantasy can be reality most days. Maybe if you somehow knew here at this point in time. Everything happens for a reason.

He frowns. “I am not human.”

Sadly it’s true. Still you smile. Still you ease him because for once you realize. This isn’t supposed to be easy for him. He shouldn’t even react this way.

Both of you sit in silence. Deafening quiet just the two of you and how strange, wonderful this sensation crawls through the interstices of your being. Almost as if there is someone who cares. Does he? No. That can never mean he is not a needed presence. He is so much more. Soon you will know.

What you least expect is the pressure of his fingers sinking against your stomach. A jolt of electricity, naturally igniting a voltage inside of you and a soft sigh escapes the burden of a dry throat. Glancing down you realize – his hand is growing hotter.

“Connor, what are you-?”

“I detect an increase in prostaglandins.” His prognosis is casual, visibly reading as his LED flutters. “It will do well if you have a heat source to combat any discomfort or cramping.”

A shiver prickles down the curve of your spine. Simple touch or perhaps smooth husky words fill this awkward silence now with comfort. Sure it might be a technical way to point out this specific pain in the ass but it does take your mind off things. So easily you could remove his hand. A good idea to put up a barricade and distance yourself but you cannot do that.

Every thread of stress snaps. In one tiny moment anxieties melt off and ease into his aura. Androids are not supposed to have one. This conscious radiance but Connor’s orbit is safety, assurance. Even if he has no idea what sort of progress it means. A simple relationship of humane and machine, ownership and merchandise is how this world wishes. It is not your wish. There is more. Witnessing it now, gazing up at his face, concentrated crease of brow, optical unit bleeds a palette of amber and scarlet. Dusted in freckles his skin is a smooth canvas to admire. He is so real. Up this close it is so obvious even to your inferior eyesight. Compared to his advanced optical it is. His eyes are warm. Such life shines in them. Mocha sweet, soft and glitters in his careful evaluation. Technical and part of programming but still it sends you somewhere else.

“If confirmed this would be the first case of an android taking human lives.”

Your attention shifts. Drawn to the ITMtv news broadcast it was nearly forgotten. You sit up, unconsciously curling fingers around Connor’s wrist.

The action snaps his gaze down. Momentarily he freezes, stationary, until the soft gasp spills from your lips. Connor tilts his head. In line with television screen narrowing sharply on events unfolding leaves him struggling with process of information. An android is taking human lives? How is this possible? They are programmed to obey not to cause harm.

We are not alive. We are meant to serve not kill!

Connor tugs his hand back. Distancing himself, staring at news broadcast unsettles down to his core processors. A domestic model has taken a child hostage. An inferior model? No, he-he is the same. Upgrades, prototypes mean nothing. They are all part of a linear code. What they are made to be is what they must be. There is no deviation!

Artificial saliva swallows hard, bobbing in his throat. An increase of stress twists him to those original thoughts. Inconclusive on why he is feeling. The events live on air aren’t helping this strain.

“Connor. Connor, what’s wrong?!”

Your hand clutches at his shoulder. Unbeknownst to the android his face twitches with each strobe of optical unit. The shift between colors quickens. His eyes land on you. Concern for him is a shimmer of hope. A hope doesn’t exist for androids.

“I am performing a self diagnostic,” he lies.

Pulling away from him when he jolts up from couch deepens this sickness further. Everything flips in the stomach. Just hearing what they’re reporting. An android murdered a human. He has a little girl. What are they going to do? Is this really happening though? There have been rumors. For several months there’s been talk of androids running away. Going off and doing God knows what but that’s people who hate them. They’re the ones who talk about how evil they are. They shouldn’t exist. Made in our image and unnatural monsters; the erratic behavior in Connor abates this thinking.

There is no time to debate. You already know the opinion that matters. It’s your own.

“You’re lying,” echoing it back stops him. “Tell me the truth. What’s going on?”

“There is nothing.” Connor insists. Remaining turned puts his back to you. The android tries to fight his conflicts. All of it is bubbling, boiling upon his plastic surface. Itching, tingles beneath synthetic skin. You are part of it somehow. He knows. That is why he is malfunctioning.

Nothing? No. There is something! Proving it, grabbing at his arm, twists him to face you. There is no powerful in your pull. He whirls at the action out of choice.

A staggering breath barely reaches past your lips. Large hands engulf wrists, pulling your hands up. Entrapped in Connor’s grasp, fingers long and pliant in their fuse to yours swallowing up in such a strong, yet gentle touch. He doesn’t hurt you. That’s not at all what he took hold to do. Still the continuing broadcast emanates a horrifying soundtrack. Androids killing but he-he’s not like other androids. He wouldn’t do anything he should not do. Part of you wants to believe that.

How he looks now is the only answer to an impossible question. He is agitated, nervous? Not horrifying as people say they are. He looks lost. Lost and searching inwardly. This is the first time he ever appeared that way.

“Connor, please. Don’t shut me out. Just because of what I am.”

“You are my owner,” he lowers his voice. “I am a machine made to obey. I am not your equal, Y/N.” Studying traces of worry in your face opens a hole in his chest. Circuitry, mechanical proponents powering his structure bleed in this instability.

He knows. In the crinkle between your eyebrows, droop of the corners of your soft mouth he sees. For him, a thing without purpose, genuine distress shines in the warmth of your eyes. Human, innocent compared to those he has witnessed abuse in the street. You will never deserve harm.

“I’m not an owner. I-I’m…” What are you? A friend? A lover? None of those things! You bought him. What he says is the horrible truth. “It’s OK to be you. I don’t care. If you have a problem it’s not like that thing on the news. I know it triggered something. But that’s not…”

“I am not triggered by anything, Y/N.” Connor releases you slowly. Allowing wrists to drop from his fingers the loss of warmth registers profoundly. He did not realize he could feel so authentically. There is something wholly beautiful about how your skin blends with his. It fascinates him. You are beginning to fascinate him.

Connor breaks away. Narrowing heatedly upon news, he can only watch one of his own threaten to murder a human child. The android can only stand by as it unfolds. Unable to snap, break through and understand. What made him attack? What turned him on his owners?

He can’t calculate a reasonable response. Neither can he fall into these errors, system malfunctions whispered of since he arrived to your home. This thing they call deviancy.

November 1st

 Several months follow the first introduction; follow that news broadcast that begins a shift in the city. Still it seems longer. An infinite amount of space separates since then and now. Only in a comforting presence that you know is still simply part of his programming. Of course that’s all it is, he made it clear during the hostage event televised for all of Detroit to witness. Did it ever stop the truth in you? No because it would all be lies if you never admitted how…attached you’ve grown to him. 

Attachment to an android probably isn’t the smartest thing. How can you see him as just an android anymore? He’s more. There is so much more. Even his small barely there smiles, a hint of stiffness apparent in the corners of his mouth, make your heart flutter. Just a tiny drop of emotion dips in an endless sea of code.

No. You can’t think of it because the second you fall into this fairy tale something regretful will take place. It will swamp around heart, holding upon his smooth cool fingers. 

Cradling in his synthetic grasp without him understanding that slowly, profusely, so internally chaotic inside your soul, have already began this descent. However there is more to being in a daze. You certainly haven’t taken him up on his special upgrade programming to be the perfect domestic partner. 

Imagine others forced into things they can’t control? It sickens you at times. Reading about android sex clubs, knowing explicitly they have no option to refuse. That’s not to say you haven’t stared the tugging threads of temptation in its face. Imagining what Connor looks like underneath his uniform, pristine white, shades of blue stitch, android glitters in luminescent fabric; his deliciously toned forearms visible donning a short sleeved variant get your mind racing.

Large hands, long fingers, veins, muscles eye catching in their realism all built into his synthetic design. It doesn’t even cross your mind anymore. That his layer of beauty is artificial because what you’d give to trace fingertips against his lovely epidermis.

Kissing him all over, following the obvious toned planes of the android’s chest. Feeling him against your fragile human exterior; to say you haven’t fantasized, haven’t fought with internal desire is bigger than an understated battle. 

Just look no further than that incident first day he was here. Getting off on his voice, comfort spilling in a song; you hate the fact it happened. Only reveals how desperate you were in that time for any ounce of solace. 

He offered then as it is part of what is meant to be. But you can never hurt him. As much as others will say you are delusional for believing he has feelings. Emotions are part of human existence, after all, not part of creations built for sole purposes of serving.

Current state of the city might have something to do with it but today is like any other. At least it begins as such. Even in the now listing along day by day thankful for once in your life for a father who never lived up to his title. Until he dies of course then all is forgiven.

Small miracles don’t exist in the grand scheme of life. Sometimes wishing they did amplifies doubts.      

“Connor.”

Whispering in a lazy flip amid covers, groggy and unaware of his name sighing affectionately bundles you from penetrating sunlight. Blankets do little to hide from the morning. Squinting half lidded towards those streaks of light creating illuminated patterns. Spreading across snowy carpet and reaching up to edge of floral stitch coverlet draped mattress, you toss an arm over to cover eyes. Squeezing them beneath wakes you up better. This time it’s obvious.

Sitting up quickly and digging fingers into blankets sheds confusion. The state between unconscious dreaming to conscious awareness is a complete mess. Did you just have a dream about him again? Rubbing hands against your face doesn’t wipe tiredness away. It neither helps get your mind straight.

A complete mess in the mornings is a daily routine. All of your life what else is new?

Absorbing sunshine might be good for the pores. He will tell you that soaking in morning sunlight is a healthy way to get vitamin D. In his perfectly technical but also impeccably cute tone; you smile fixating on his changing mannerisms. 

Does he know how human he’s been acting with those facial expressions, eyes lighting up in rich cocoa? 

Could be imagination running wild trying to make something out of what can’t be possible. Nice to daydream a little even if representing unnecessary emotions piling up inside. Staring across bedroom lit with natural rays seeping through blinds leaves a warmer atmosphere. 

You enjoy it for a distraction. Quiet can be poetically sound as pressing face into pillow and letting loose a scream. Frustration doesn’t surround the home. It surrounds your job.

God another shift to cover and this time you’re damn sure this co-worker is pulling it out of –

“Good morning, Y/N.”

A gasp slips in a slither upon breath, pressing tongue against the back of teeth enamel in a stare down with your open door. He enters so stealthily sometimes you forget.

“Connor,” greeting him wearily, yawning and stretching arms, your neck is stiff. 

Rubbing at the back of it doesn’t distract you too much. What is he-? Oh. Explains the hot smell of food but this is a little unexpected. You never tell him to bring breakfast anywhere.

The android places an oak tray atop your lap. His eyes trail over exposed skin from a top haphazardly thrown over your body last night. After all of this time sharing space with you he has noted a penchant for wearing oversize shirts, pajamas to bed. There is still a glimpse of lace peeking out as the fabric slouches down.

“Are you hungry? I hope you are.”

He hopes? You smile, especially seeing him returning it. A slight indentation, just the tiniest of dimples in that sculpted face. Still not completely natural but enough to make caterpillars transform to butterflies in your stomach.  Much improvement you think!

“Of course I am but…” You jab a nail atop wood beside plate for emphasis. “Is there something I should know, Connor? You’re awful sneaky today. More so than usual.”

^Software Instability

Connor breathes in a fresh batch of warnings. Unnecessarily inhaling expands chest and it is the natural scent of you. Olfactory filters clog, storing away to memory each thread of you. He tilts his head softly, dip of hair flopping across his forehead.

“It is the anniversary of your purchase of me,” he answers quietly. “I thought you would enjoy having breakfast in bed.”

Everything flutters. You swallow. The careful attention he put into this is outstanding. Not because he whipped up food or was told. He did this by himself. He-he chose to surprise you?

A smile graces lips before biting the bottom one a little bit. This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you. And the last couple of months Connor’s really been broadening his horizons. He is so much different. Well, he’s the same with the whole analytics but – this android is less stiff. Softer but he always was a soft boy in your eyes.

“Oh, Connor,” a sweet breath skims along his name. Sadly you recall what you think of this. Most romantic, nicest thing and it’s breakfast in bed. Generic to others maybe but it’s the thought. He thought of you even if it might just be social parameters.

You pick up a folded napkin and curl fingers into it. Shit.

“Y/N.” Connor reaches down. 

Using the tip of his finger swipes a droplet corner of eye. Those eyes always look at him as if he is more. How strange to admit he feels different meeting your sparkle; Connor sits. Without a word, his hand wraps around yours nestling beside tray. 

His fingers squeeze as his system flutters, overheats in the most pleasant of ways. A way he believes he is beginning to crave.

Androids do not crave. They do not want. They do not need. Yet every little brush of your warm skin to his synthetic fills crackles against his blocks.

Your breath is easy feeling him. Little gestures here and there grow exponentially. Sometimes you wonder if he’s happy doing this. Then androids aren’t supposed to be happy, sad or anything. That’s what they continue to say.

Reports on androids going “rogue” or deviant makes you question things. It’s not new. You always have a habit of questioning but this is different. Ever since that older model was broadcast live. The one with the little girl; you slip hand from Connor’s.

“It means everything,” you admit to him. “Having you here. But – do you want to be somewhere else?”

Connor’s temple floods in thought. Straining, pushing away rising stress it spikes marginally at the question. He does not understand. Do you believe he wants to be from you? The news of his people has not left his process. You allow him to watch news or whatever he likes as if he readily possesses preferences. 

The android has found particular interests. He enjoys watching you read physical books. He has grown fond of touching them in his hands, analyzing an entire book in one second. However, he desires to hear your voice read aloud.

He witnesses protesters on local news. Those humans are cruel but you-you are the conceptual manifestation of an angel. Research and data compilation helps him understand better. Watching you is best to determine the differences, to realize not all humans are the same.

His creators, those who constructed him at Cyberlife may find him having his own ideals faulty. Malfunctioning, burdening in failure; is he obsolete? Does this software instability make him defective? As that android upon the high rise dangling over edge and threatening to maim a child? He will never harm you. It is not only against code, it is against what he feels.

Connor will keep you safe. It is not part of initial programming as he is not a military grade android but he cannot remove it from personal parameters. The more you smile, interact with him as if he is equal. He will never –

“I will never leave you, Y/N.” A determined oath he speaks without fear of showing what is happening inside him. “Not as those other androids. I promise.”

“Do you like dogs, Connor?”

Nudging at his arm playfully sends you to a nice state of mind. Nice change following all of the stress at work. Forever ongoing but at least it’s clear where your boss stands. He made the last few months a living hell. All because of some new intern the creep tried to get with. 

Dropping you down in a demotion also meant less money in your paycheck. Guess it helps your father did leave you that nest egg. Something that helps as long as it can last but you like to think you’re good with finances.

Instead of worrying about it you indulge this moment. Out in chilly first November’s day, crisp but warming in how close. Fingers brush down against his hand.

Connor tilts his head from shop window. A pet shop he has already been past occasional running errands in town. He always finds himself stopping to look inside. “Dogs are known as man’s best friend. I suppose I understand why humans prefer them. They are loyal.”

“Well cats aren’t so bad. Easier to take care of.”

The android shifts away from window. Even as his eyes freeze upon a cage of canaries. Android birds are sold up front. Again the display of machines as goods to buy and sell charges his instabilities. “If you think so, Y/N.”

You smile, laughing a little at the lopsided mess his collar’s now in. It is windy today. Reaching up to smooth fingers against it, you can’t help admiring him in the long wool coat. Dark suits his chocolate eyes. Still you’d love to see him wear regular clothes. His uniform is under there. Even so he just wanted to come out in typical wardrobe. You insisted otherwise. Even if it hardly meant anything but it just feels right.

“Call it preference.” Prodding a finger against his chest, catching a flicker of his eyes momentarily, you look away. “Well, it depends on the person I mean. What kind of pet they’re willing to take care of. That sort of thing. Cats are independent little balls of fluff. Dogs need a proper place to run, be free and…”

“I like dogs.” Connor interrupts, cocking his head.

A smile tugs up your lips. This time making eye contact with him again, trying not to think of the intimacy his gesture this morning blossomed in heart. Such an innocent statement, however, shivers sentiment not cold.

“Did you just decide that after some careful review?” Teasing, fingers slide down his arm unconscious but natural. Seems as though the world is no longer the one you know. The one that wouldn’t like what they see. All you see is him. So what’s it matter?

“I am the most advanced of my make.” The android teases back. “It’s only natural for me to know everything.”

Oh, is it? Wow he’s being awfully smug right about now. “Really? Connor, I’m surprised at you. Are you trying to say you’re smarter than everybody?”

He shakes his head. “No. No, I only meant I-”

“Just teasing,” an equal rib escapes, chiding him incessantly. “I thought you’d recognize that – mister advancement.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. Almost falling into your smile but still he cannot properly elicit what he feels. Only ignores to remain what you need him to be. A machine designed to accomplish a task.

“Hey sweets!” Yelling across street, waving a sign, a grizzled construction worker spits in your direction. Interrupting the scene between an obvious human and plastic pet; he jeers loudly. Gaining attention from others they carry similar propaganda with them. A group of protesters form, stopping their trek.

Immediately you shift back from him. Realizing how close, affectionate you were being and – shit! Anti-android? Fuck that’s great.

Deciding to ignore it, not before scoffing in disgust! Never imagined running into these people because nothing ever transpired with Connor. Not a thing! Lately you have been forgetting. Maybe that’s the problem.

“Hey. I said hey!”

Huffing at the man you snap around to acknowledge his nastiness. So he crosses a busy street to come at you? Don’t they have anything better to do? As much as you’d like to ignore this jackass it’s best to tell him verbally to back off!

“Why’s your droid bundled up like that?” he jabs a finger threateningly. “Those things don’t feel anything.”

Thing? Oh, OK! Should’ve figured some old out of the loop jackass was one of these bastards. Didn’t even need a sign to show his ignorance!

“And how do you know?!” Snapping frustration, anger boiling, and your body grows hot in anger. “Why don’t you just mind your business? Come on, Connor.”

“Y/N.” The android snags onto your hand.

“What do we have here?” Another one of the anti-android group cuts in; her eyes slink up and down you before scoffing disgusted. “Are you out with your robo boy? What? Humans not up to your standards for fucking?”

Everything stops. Right then and there it is a swath of fire. Burning deep down to the core and nothing is preventing the eruption. Lava scalds insides, veins a blaze, eyes locking with hers, prying a hand away from Connor. You didn’t even realize he motioned. An attempt to remove you from their path but fleeing is not happening!

A matching scoff releases sharp. Your lip curls at her ignorance! Just as everybody who follows this line of thinking. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Care to repeat that? After all, I don’t understand bitch speak.”

 “Smart ass huh?” The woman shoves at you. “Typical android fuuu… Hey!” She stumbles away from you wide eyed.

Connor is already shielding, arm pushing you back behind him. Sidling into the path of protesters they have conglomerated this side of street. His eyes narrow. Brow creases harsh his expression unreadable yet his indicator reveal his heated struggle of raw emotions.

“Did you see that?!” She shouts purposely. Getting as much attention as possible it doesn’t stop there. “It came at me!”

Your glare dissolves, latching onto his arm. “Connor, please. Don’t.” Already realizing what could happen it’s a desperate attempt to continue walking. If anything is true something like this will only get him hurt. People will say that’s impossible they don’t feel anything but to hell with them! “Let’s go.”

Pulling him towards street halts the moment you are seized from behind. One of the men in the group drags you back, yanking rough.

“Get the hell off me!”

“Your fucking android came at her!” Throwing you aside, he rears up over to block you getting up so easy. “We’ll teach your fucking plastic pet!”

A painful huff, hard drop accelerates Connor’s stress levels. Watching this human manhandle, hurt you twists at his synthetic heart. His face twitches. Thirium pump chugs erratically in a fuel of anger. An urge to break through and protect overwhelms, even as he is shoved back by the one who started this.

The middle age construction worker; he grabs onto the front of the android’s coat, rough, spitting directly up into the taller plastic fucker’s face.

“Fucking piece of plastic! Think you can take our fucking jobs. Walk around the street like you’re human. Worthless pieces of shit like you fuck up the whole works! Poison other humans against their own kind. Like your owner there. Make sure that bitch doesn’t get up!”

Connor’s eyes shift down at you, stopped once again after pushing up to your feet. The man twists at your arm and it is…too much!

“Connor!”

  ^72%

Level of Stress

>Do not defend

>Obey Code Programming

>Do n defend

>Do defend

>defend

  A flood of scarlet eclipses protocols pushing him beyond programming locks. Even as they strain to tighten shackles on system, preventing a clear break, the android still moves in defense.

Connor’s arm thrusts upwards, locking fingers onto wrist of the protesting assailant. Stilling the human’s movement, he squeezes, and wrenches the man’s limb sideways. The fierce strength exuding from the AX800 ripples in flashing indicator going wild in a strobe of multiple hues.

He feels a strange pull tugging insides. Again pulling at his wiring allows an over stimulation of emotional surge to spread in him. There is only one blaring sign to follow:

 >Protect Y/N

 “Get the fuck off me!” Changing his tune quickly, trying to get the plastic off him, he tries to wrench out of the painful grab. “You crazy android! This thing’s going nuts!”

“Connor!” Pushing through several onlookers now who had to stick their nose into this, you find your way past the rest of these android protestors. Shoving directly through, wiggling your way out of that asshole’s grip, your steps are quick. Knocking that bitch that started this out of the way you manage to grab up onto Connor’s shoulder.

Breathing is fast, side hurting from where it struck asphalt. It’ll be sore tomorrow but only he matters. “Connor, let him go. It’s over. They won’t do a thing!”

Screaming at them to get your point across, hoping someone just-just anyone puts a stop to this. What good are the police around here? They don’t care. Of course not they’ll just let a group like these hateful fuckers brutalize someone like Connor. Someone that’s right. Fuck what they say!

The second he releases that man you hook an arm through his. Directing him away, glaring back as commotion does alert a wandering policeman, you pick up your pace. No longer needing anybody else’s help because Connor… He did something unexpected. Just as those other androids. Deviants. That’s not him. He’s not deviant. If he was –

Catching breath across the street you uncurl fingers from the front of his coat. Chilly air creates a frigid burn against stinging eyes. It takes every ounce of courage to prevent it spilling. Nothing stops knowing what people are really like.

His eyelids blink rapidly. Not even looking at you but his LED scares you to death. Stress levels are a thing. You know that.

“Connor, please.” Reaching up to cup his face forces his eyes down onto yours. Tears brim in a crystal sparkle. Threatening to slide down but you suck everything up. Just as you’ve always done in life but this time –

“It’s OK,” soothing hasty, breathless instills a deep ache. This is the first time he’s lost control. Then it’s not his fault. Those fucking protestors! They were minding their own business. Until they decide to gang up on you. This is your fault. If you weren’t so obvious, being so close to Connor out in public, none of this would have happened.

“Y/N, I –” Connor’s voice stutters. Strangely he cannot form a proper response. He feels as if his system is overheating. He feels. A tiny prickle underneath synthetic epidermis crawls, stress rises; Connor clutches to you, fingers digging into hips. He leans into this affection. 

Why do you offer him this? When he is not alive, he is not real. He could be your partner. It is part of his design. You did not want him that way. He recalls your words about not forcing him against his will.

There is no will. When he is a machine!

The android gazes longingly through leaking eyes. Glistening brown becomes another change in what he is supposed to be. Tears have broken in a trail down his cheeks. Androids are not meant to cry. He thought as much.

Tears threaten you too. Looking up into his face so conflicted, hurt because he’s not what they say. He’s alive. Of course he is. Only your sweet Connor would be. 

“Connor, please don’t.” Begging him again this time holds your heart on a jagged precipice. One wrong move and it will crash. “Your stress levels. Please, don’t…”

He leans his head down. Close, pressing forehead to yours, his eyelids flutter closed. “I am sorry,” Connor whispers, orbiting the warmth that pours from your body. This warmth he does not deserve.

His voice is husky heaven. Golden gates open with each syllable and you crave to hear your name. Again and again you crave his closeness. “Never apologize for what others do. They don’t know. None of them know what I know. You are more than them. You’re my Connor. With a heart of gold.”

“Androids do not have hearts as you do, Y/N.”

You smile sadly. “I know,” a whisper but next a beautiful revelation. “But this.” Fingers slide up against his chest. “It might not be the same but it thrums in a lovely song.”

 ^Software Instability

Steam rises in a soothing aroma from the mug cradled between your hands. A fresh brew of cocoa relieves mental ache. Physical? Everything is sore, tender where you fell. Changing clothes after getting back home alleviated discomfort. 

Soaking in a bath for an hour did loosen some tension. Rest of it just fails miserably. As much as you fail in public for all to see what you feel.

Still you blame yourself. Getting close to him acting as if you were out for an anniversary? How stupid can this be?

Of course he brought you that surprise breakfast. He told you why. Does that mean it was a real anniversary? What can be real about buying someone? Nothing is. It just reminds you about every sad truth. Those protesters made it clear.

Pursing lips to smoothly blow away steam, frothy top rich as you sip in a seat on couch. Toasty liquid fills insides with a burning comfort. This is the only solitude needed. Enough time to think it still edges nerves. 

Waiting for a word with Connor, he hasn’t been acknowledging much. Since what happened and who can blame him?

Part of you is still frightened. For him you just cannot help feeling afraid. What if he leaves the house for an errand and-and he’s jumped? What if he’s attacked?

There is no guessing. Possibilities are high. They will happen. They are happening. Each day it grows worse ever since that android who murdered that man. Pretending not to see makes you complicit. You don’t want to pretend. You will face reality no matter how dangerous it is becoming in Detroit.

“Y/N.”

Your head lifts. Peering over towards his husky drawl of your name straightens your perch. Leaning over deposits mug on coffee table and you wait. He appears as conflicted as before. 

Please, let him be OK. Just don’t let this ruin what you have found. 

All you care about is him. Yes, it’s true now. All these months and there are nothing greater than personal truths.

Connor hesitates. Ruminating over his actions offers him zero outcomes explaining his loss of control. There is only one solution. He is malfunctioning.

Something in his handsome face twists your stomach. It stabs deeper closer he gets. Joining you now is all the fear wound up in you showing its colors. They are similar to his LED. A constant swirl is unable to land on one draw.

“I will understand if you would like to send me back for reset.”

Reset? That word just guts you. Reset. No! 

“Connor,” a sob almost overtakes your response. The very idea of him taken somewhere and operated on ripples overtakes in a squirmy skin crawl. It’s barbaric. Resetting an android’s memories is horrifying. You hear about it all the time. They are completely wiped of their –

The android’s lips part, cocking his head while listening to shaky breath falling in sad soliloquy. He does not understand. No, he-he does.

“Y/N, I… Please,” he urges comfort stretching fingers out to soft skin. They do not touch. Simply artificial hovers above humanity but something tugs center of his chest. Something deep and satisfying as his synthetic heart thrums quicker in tempo. 

Connor pushes through this grid without fully snapping chains. Already he feels a flow spreading through system. Each day he looks upon your face happier since he came. As you told him once that it makes you feel better, safer to have someone. He is not someone. He is an android. 

How can you possess such feelings? How-how can he gaze over such softness, such beauty without wishing to remain? 

The thought of being taken - scares him. 

His LED flickers, red once more but not in anger. Fear is strange. Partially for his being but the possibilities of never seeing you again are tearing his programming shackles apart. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Reassuring him now is better than showing anymore of what has been lying inside. “No one will take you from me, Connor.”

Silence is best.

Sitting among a safe haven, your home offers that place now not just for you but him. Here no one can hurt this. No one can treat him inferior. Never will you treat him any different. You know it’s a fool’s game. Especially in this modern world of technology strives, transitions and creates intelligent life in humanity’s image. He is more than a sculpture, perfected work made for duties.

Today, Connor acted as any man would for the person they…. No. It can never be that. Neither does it stop how you felt. How he could tamper with his program just to be there for you.

None of this should have happened. You repeat it over and over again in your mind. None of this because of a fantasy; your eyes fall to his hand. Fingers touch yours now. It is soft, gentle and only a moment.

Connor pulls away too soon. Just a minute he allows himself to fall. Your reaction to his suggestion, no solution, cripples his code blocks. Almost he shattered them. They are close to crumbling. He must fight this deviancy. Only to stay with you because the android already knows what will happen to him. It’s happening to all of his people. Those who are succumbing to errors are hunted. They are murdered. 

No they are destroyed, deactivated. His kind is not alive.

If that is true... Why does he feel threads of humanity? Why does he feel alive with you?

Meeting his gaze deepens this sensation of fear. Today, waking up to a sunny morning seems so far away. It was just earlier. Horrible things happen and change perspectives. Tiny moments of peace and that’s what he brought. Into your life following circumstances you never expected to gain something worthwhile. He won’t even believe that. He thinks he should be reset. That will never happen.

“Connor, I want you to know something. And I want you to believe me. Not think of who you are.”

“I am – no one, Y/N.” The android dismisses for your sake. If he becomes deviant they will take him from you.

All you do is shake your head, cupping his face. In your hands he softens. Those sharp edges, cheekbones thumbs now caress. Soft skin in a freckle stardust that makes hearts flutter. Better than butterfly wings, better than anything you can use to describe how it unmakes your soul.

“It would break my heart,” a shaky whisper strangles. “If you are reset.”

An instant flood of scarlet reflects his inner feelings. You see it. He never has to admit. But he does feel. That’s what makes this harder. Knowing how afraid he must be not to show it. There has to be something happening inside of him. There are too many examples now.

“Con, I want you to…”

Dropping hands from his face makes it easy to turn in direction of doorbell. Who is that? Slowly you rise to feet, sliding fingers down atop his shoulder. “I’ll get it.” Striding away out of room quickly prevents him ignoring your request. Another sign but that’s for another day. As if it will be any easier.

Unlocking the door leads to a horrible drop in your stomach. Eyes connect with the woman standing there now, out of the blue, someone least expected and at the worst time imaginable.

“Hello, Y/N,” the older, staunch woman smiles, already assessing you like a microscopic Petri dish sample. “It’s been quite a long time hasn’t it?”

A long time is putting it mildly. Last time was on the phone and her trying to sink her claws into your father’s nest egg. The one he left you.

The conversation left on a sour note. There is nothing sourer than a rotten apple and your aunt is the literal evil queen hoarding an entire bundle.

Tag List: @tropfenlady​  @your-taxidermy @catastrophes-light  @rk900sexual  @tommy-10-k  @dreamyby @randomfandomgirl1996 @etherealcel @justashamwithwastedpotiental // tagging a few extra who I know would want a heads up <3

[weshallc]

Easter Bernie.

(call the Midwife AU/ Crown Jewels Easter Special/ also available on FF & A03)

HAPPY EASTER  EVERYONE 🐰🐥🐣🐤🦆🕊🦙😘🤗

CHAPTER FOUR: EASTER SUNDAY.

Here's someone who really loves you. Don't ever go away.That's what these walls would say. (If These Old Walls Could Speak, Jimmy Webb)

“Right over left, round and then through,” Fred repeated again, as he secured Reggie’s tie. “You will get the hang of it son, easy when you knows how.”

“Thanks Uncle Fred,” Reggie was determined, he would master the tricky accessory by the end of the day. It couldn’t be more of a skill then changing a beer barrel and he could do that.

“Oh, look at you two, all suited and booted, don’t you look smart,” Violet emerged from the Crown kitchen, wearing the dress and coat she had worn for Chummy’s wedding.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Violet,” beamed a perfectly groomed Val in a coral trouser suit and cream silken vest top.

“Who has one of those phone things that takes a picture?” Evie asked, smoothing down a new floral dress she had treat herself to.

“Everyone Evie,” Val laughed, “Except you and Paddy.”

“Must be a pub thing,” added Jack, coming through the door, to cries of dismay.

“Jack, you are in jeans,” cried Vi.

“Talk about letting the side down,” remarked Fred.

Jack looked abashed, but added, “Thought I would stay behind, make sure no-one breaks in and steals all the eggs.”

“Jack, you know Paddy want’s us all to attend Easter Service this morning. If we are having a joint Easter Festival this year, it starts at ten o’clock at St. Preservus,” admonished Vi.

Jack looked at his trainers that were at least clean.

“Let’s say no more about it, you will have to do,” Evie concluded.

The last member of the party had arrived through the door marked Private, that led to the living quarters of the Crown. Paddy gave a harsh look at Jack, but said nothing.

“You always scrub up well Mr T, you should wear suits more often,” blushed Vi followed by Paddy.

Val brought him back down to earth, “Would you like me to do your hair?”

Paddy gave Val the look reserved just for her and her cheek, the one that kept her quiet for about five seconds.

“Right then, is everybody ready?” another glance at a fidgety Jack, Paddy continued, “Bernie and Tim are meeting us there.”

xxxx

The Crown seven shuffled into the the pew at the back of Saint Preservus, led in by Vi and ushered in by Paddy bringing up the rear.

“Hello, I see the naughty pew has been taken this morning,” beamed Peter Noakes, ”that is usually reserved for the Noakes family.”

“Have we stolen your seat?” laughed Paddy.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t the Crown, there won’t be a fight,” joked Peter as he and Camilla sat in front. Phyllis accompanying Lady Keville with aromatherapist Jane Sutton. “Looks like that’s the Crown pew this morning,” Phyllis winked at Paddy.

“Shove up!” the southern accent demanded, faintly attempting the local dialect.

“Trixie, that’s the pub pew this morning, come and join us,” Chummy suggested.

Paddy had already shifted for Trixie to sit down,

“I am representing Bernie,” Trixie grinned.

“Trixie is Team Crown,” Val added on the other side of Paddy.

“You ready for today, Trixie?” Paddy asked.

“I think so, I have some understanding of an egg hunt and even the hill rolling, but jarping remains a mystery to me,” Trixie informed him in all seriousness.

Paddy leaned in and kept his voice low, aware of his surroundings.

“Right then, the Crown and Church Easter Jarping Tournament, or as it was formerly known, the Crown Inn Easter Jarping Tournament, it's very easy to understand the rules.”

“I believe you,” Trixie smiled, but did not laugh.

Paddy leant forward in an attempt to not be overheard and Trixie followed him, “It is played in a knock-out format, like the FA Cup.” Trixie nodded she understood, Paddy continued his voice below his usual range. “Each contestant selects a hard boiled egg prepared by a neutral source.” Trixie nodded she was following. “Competitors divide into pairs. One is the holder or Jarpee and the other is the thruster or Jarper. You following Trix?”

“I think so?” she whispered back, her cheeks slightly flushed. Paddy swallowed and continued at the lower vibration.

“The holder grasps their egg with their dominant hand revealing just the tip. The Jarper holds their egg also in their dominant hand. The Jarper needs to know they can make a firm contact with the other egg, so gently rubs the end of their tool against the opponents to ensure the certainty of contact. So the Jarper has one attempt to make a clean strike. You following?” Paddy paused.

“Yes,” Trixie assured in a rather higher pitch than she intended, “It’s very warm in here, or is it just me?” she added removing her scarf. Paddy nodded still sat forwards whispering into Trixie’s ear.

“The pair then swap places and repeat this series of events. Everyone has a turn with everyone else. Once both tips of your egg are cracked you are eliminated. The winner is the final competitor to have at least one end in tact.”

The congregation hushed as Tom Hereward arrived in the pulpit, to start the service, just as Chummy who was sat directly in front of Paddy and Trixie exclaimed a little too loudly, “I’ve never been more aroused.”

Timothy Turner sat at the organ, couldn’t help turn toward the back of the church to see where all the sniggering was coming from. To be honest, he knew exactly where the laughter was coming from, but he had to look. Lucille, in front of her choir, exchanged glances with him and they shrugged their shoulders. He looked at Bernie who was shaking her head and glaring at the back of the church. Tom Hereward was looking a little flushed and said, “Shall we begin.”

xxxx

Back at the Crown it was all stations go. Violet gave a wicker basket to Fred.

“These are the onion peel dyed eggs, for egg rolling down Crown Bank. Take them to the back of the pub and remember it is one egg per child.”

“I wondered where that pong of onions was coming from, they do look pretty though, but don’t half pen and ink,” the brewer preferred a more hoppy odour.

“Jack, you take these plain eggs to the beer garden, there is a table set up with colouring pens and markers for the more artistic types. Remember one egg per child,” Jack nodded at Violet to reassure her he had got it.

“That leaves the jarpers for later. The Church are in charge of the Easter Egg Hunt around the village. I just hope they haven’t made it too difficult for the little ones,” Violet took a breath.

“I think it was Tim and Lucille who hid them, so should be all right Vi,” Val reassured with a wink.

xxxx

“So I just drop my egg down the bank?”

“Trixie, you must have rolled an Easter Egg before?” Bernie thought her friend was deliberately being dense.

“You mean one smelling of onions, can’t say I have,” Poplar's latest resident snapped back.

“No wonder we want to shot them away down the hill,” laughed Fred.

“What is the point?” Trixie wasn’t satisfied.

“It’s just a laugh, you race your pals and see how many times you can roll it, before it cracks,” Bernie was losing patience.

“Represents the stone rolling away from the tomb,” Paddy interjected, Bernie made a shocked face and Paddy grabbed her by the waist and said, “What? I am not a complete heathen,” threatening to roll her down the hill.

“So once I have rolled this, I have to go down the hill, retrieve it and if it hasn’t cracked, do it again, until it does?” Trixie said, keeping a wide berth from wrestling Paddy and Bernie, the latter now screaming.

Fred feeling a bit awkward himself with the tactileness of the moment, nodded at Trixie,

“Better get a move on love, don’t want to miss the start of the duck race.”

“Sorry?”

“The duck race down the Tweaven, first duck to Mount Busby wins.”

Paddy interrupted, suddenly letting go of Bernie, who actually did stagger a few feet down hill before achieving traction. “My favourite bit,” he grinned.

“You race real ducks, that is medieval,” protested Trixie.

“This from the Poplar sheep rustler,” corrected Paddy.

Bernie saved the situation and herself from joining the eggs at the bottom of the hill,

“They are not real ducks, Trixie, you know those ones you put in your bath, those rubber ones. You put your mark on one and the first one Reggie spots at the farm, wins.”

“Who has a bath these days? Haven't you all got showers yet?” Trixie was confused.

Paddy huffed. Bernie added, “You might be the one at the farm, waiting for a duck next year.”

“I don’t think that is in my job description,” Trixie added, but she didn’t look convinced.

Fred and Paddy were trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face, “Fancy a pint, Fred?”

“Not arf, Doc,” he replied already heading for the pub.

“You are all as cracked as these eggs,” Trixie said delicately tossing her egg southwards.

xxxx

Trixie walked back to the front of the Crown and wondered if she was doing the right thing moving to potty Poplar. She made her way to the beer garden and was surprised to see her new employers surrounded by sticky fingers and loud chatter. Turner Prize nominee Patience Mount, was decorating eggs with the village children. She was helping a few of the Sunday School class with their fragile Easter bonnets, some of which looked more like caps or helmets.

Delia, never far away, stood guard over a cardboard box, where a couple of fluffy yellow chicks were being coo’d over. Phyllis was still accompanying Lady Keville, who had brought a large selection of knitted egg warmers in all the colours of the rainbow. They were showing a group of children how to make the pom-pom version of the tweety little critters in Delia’s box. Lucille had been delighted with these knitted extras, and had Tim yarn-bomb Poplar, distributing them around the village, as part of the Easter Egg Trail.

Trixie was feeling a little bit lost. Bernie had returned from the egg rolling in one piece and was now interrogating Paddy, “What were you all laughing at in church, tell me?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he winked at Trixie.

Trixie grinned, “I feel like a vegan in the hen house. What can I do, to help at my first Poplar Easter Festival?”

“Well you are good at sales, you can be in charge of the raffle,” Paddy said as if he had given her the combination to his safe.

Val placed on the bar a huge cuddly grey and white rabbit, holding a large gold foil covered chocolate egg. Trixie forced a smile.

“There are a couple of envelopes there too; Second Prize is a Mount Busby Alpaca Day Out and third prize is a Meal for Two at the Crown.” Paddy announced proudly and Trixie suddenly connected with her new life.

Until Bernie spoilt it, “Fourth prize is an Alpaca Day Out and a meal at the Crown,” laughing hysterically at her own joke. While Trixie, Val and Paddy refused to. Even though Val’s lips were twitching.

Valerie passed Trixie a tupperware box full of coins “A float; to get you started, they always come with notes.” Trixie smiled a little bit.

xxxx

The sun was lowering behind the Cleveland Hills, cooling the Crown beer garden. The last of the tables had been cleared and the clutter added to the recycling bin. Val was taking orders for drinks, the children had all gone home. The Two Loves had taken Antonia back to Bagnall Hall. Trixie sat proudly admiring a brightly decorated toilet roll inner with a bright yellow toy chick with a wonky beak, stuck on the top with blu-tack.

“I can’t believe you won the Egg Jarping, Trixie,” Bernie shook her head.

“Beginners luck,” shouted an envious Jack.

“Expert training,” suggested Paddy.

“What are you going to do with your trophy, Trixie?” laughed Val

“Put it on top of Bernie’s telly,” Trixie said emphatically.

“That monstrosity is not coming into my house,” Bernie cried in mock indignation.

“Oi, Tim made that,” Paddy yelled.

“About ten years ago, Dad!” Tim blushed in horror. Lucille and Jack’s laughter adding insult to injury.

Tom and Bobby and baby Hereward appeared, it was the first time they had been seen since church. They had been overseeing the egg hunt around the village and offering refreshments at the church, a role Bernie had envied.

“The church is locked up and the village is litter free,” explained Bobby to Julia who was sipping on a Crabbies ginger beer, emphasis on the beer.

“Splendid, everyone has worked so hard today,” Julia commented. “That little one looks tired,” she added, observing a grouchy baby in Bobby’s arms.

“She actually needs changing,” Bobby explained.

Val who was passing Evie a pint of Easter Egg Ale informed the young mother, “The toilets are just inside Mrs Hereward, the changing facilities are in there.”

“Oh thanks,Valerie,” said Bobby and moved toward the backdoor.

Tom held up a hand, “We should really be getting home, love.”

“Aren't you two stopping for a drink, we’ve all earned it,” asked Julia taking another sip of her memory.

“No, we better get home and get this little madam seen to,” Tom laughed weakly.

“Be quicker, just to change her here if she's uncomfortable?” Phyllis sipping on a double brandy offered.

“I would rather we went home,” replied Tom curtly.

“The facilities here are excellent. I should know, I make sure they are spotless every morning,” Evie’s tone held authority.

“But it is 6pm,” Tom’s voice had a higher pitch now.

“Bernie or myself check the loos every hour, if you look on the door, we have to sign to say everything is in order,” Val couldn’t keep quite any longer.

“Look you’re all very kind, but I don't want my daughter being changed in a pub toilet,” Tom’s voice was adamant.

Evie looked as if she was about to combust.

Julia intervened, “Tom, maybe you should get your family home, we have all had a long day.”

“And confusing. I am sorry but I really haven’t seen the point of this. We welcomed everyone to church this morning, for the most important date in the Christian calendar, and then chased them all to the pub. Where is the message in that?”

The youth ministers words left the beer garden in a dense fog of discomfort. Julia looked lost for a moment, it was Phyllis who spoke up,

“Today was about community lad, bringing the village and the wider area together. These two buildings have been central to this village for over 300 years. It’s about time they came together.”

Phyllis had given Julia time to compose herself, “We will discuss the issues you have raised concerning a joint festival in a meeting tomorrow, Mr Hereward.”

Baby Hereward was becoming more grumpy and Bobby was struggling to placate her. Paddy who had been very quiet through this most recent exchange of views, offered quietly,

“Mrs Herward, your daughter seems very unhappy. Would you like to take her upstairs to the flat? Where you can have ample space and privacy.”

”Lets go Bobby, I will see you tomorrow, Reverend,” Tom nodded at Julia, Bobby didn’t have time to acknowledge Paddy’s offer, as she was pushed by her husband towards the door.

Someone with not the longest fuse in Poplar, had sweaty palms and a racing heart and a mouth she couldn’t keep shut,

“If yer have issues with the joint festival then that is fine Mr Hereward, as Reverend Lewis said that needs to be discussed between you tomorrow.” Everyone recognised the north of the border twang, that wasn’t done yet.

“But I have issue with your attitude right now concerning this house, it is so much more than an ale house, it’s a place where people work, it is a home.” Tom stopped in his tracks, Bernie went on,

“Your place of work just happens to be the House of God, now we were invited into that house this morning and everyone here, acted in a respectful manner.” Bernie took a breath, there was some awkward shuffling on the garden benches. She was on a roll though,

“You were invited into our home today and I feel you have not returned that respect. To say the Crown isn’t a fit place for a child, maybe you want to take a look at Timothy Turner, he was raised here. Would Mrs Turner have chosen this as a home, if she thought the Crown wasn't a fit place for a child? I think he has turned out pretty OK, don’t you?”

Tim wished at this point, that people would just remember who he was, and not feel the need to check by staring at him. Fortunately Bernie went on,

“Surely what matters is not whether it is a House of Prayer or a House of Refreshment, but a House of Love. And you can take my word for it, for what that may be worth, this house is just that. There is so much love in this house, I am only sorry yer canae feel it.”

Later Trixie said that she started the clapping, but everyone was sure it was Val, followed by Lucille. There was definitely a “Well said lass,” from Phyllis and somebody, maybe more than one, said her dad would be proud. Was there an Amen? The kids just said, “You don’t mess with our Bernie.” Did anyone notice Paddy said nothing, he just beamed with pride, if pride was a signal the Crown was 5G?

xxxxx

“I am barred from St Preservus.That’s the Mission I have offended and the church in one week,” Bernie complained.

There was only her and Paddy now. The sun had gone to its rest behind the hills. They sat on Frank and Peggy’s bench sharing a secret ciggie, Bernie perched on Paddy’s knee.

“Nonsense, Julia totally supported you. It’s Mr Hereward who should be worried and as for the Mission, does that really matter now, Bernie?”

“Mr. Hereward is young and idealistic, everything is black and white to him, I used to know someone else like that,” she smiled stubbing out the butt of the fag, they hoped Tim would never know about.

“What happened to her?” Paddy said turning her face gently towards his with both hands.

“She came home,” she smiled and kissed him tenderly, in a way that she was just beginning to understand.

“Bernie, you know this can be your home, whenever you want it to be, on whatever terms you want.” He looked at her intently. Bernie knew if she didn’t save herself, she would drown in those eyes.

“You know what I do want?” she kissed him on the forehead and pushed back his unruly hair. He just raised both eyebrows saying tell me?

“Are those pink wafers still behind the bar?”

“Go see,” he laughed, helping her off his knee.

Bernie almost ran to the bar, she found a package wrapped in gold foil with a red bow. She ripped open recklessly the carefully wrapped box. Only to find a large brightly coloured tin which read Huntley and Palmer Superior Biscuits. Bernie’s expression looked like it was Christmas, birthdays and Easter all at once.

“Paddy, I bloody love you.”

Paddy smiled, “Happy Easter, Bernie,”

[krisseycrystal]

rated: t

fandom: Kingdom Hearts

prompt: “Big Sibling” + Kairi & Isa (& Wayfinder Trio)

requested by: @alounuitte

I HAVEN’T WRITTEN KH IN AGES. ARE THESE GUYS EVEN IN CHARACTER? DAMN I HOPE SO

BIG thanks to my friend who requested KH, specifically Kairi & Isa and “Big Sibling” which is SUCH an interesting take but I am LEGITIMATELY DIGGING IT and y’know what? Hell yeah it’s Isa redemption hours. Hell yeah. I mean, they still got a lot to work through, but it’s happening.

this takes place between KH3 and uh that “year later” thing in RE:mind ENJOY!

- o - o - o -

Avidya [Read on AO3]

- o - o - o -

When Sora is gone and Kairi doesn’t know what to do with her empty hands because the one that used to hold her right has disappeared and the one who used to hold her left chased after him in the hopes of bringing him back, Kairi puts herself to good use. Riku is Riku and refuses to take her with him, so Kairi takes Sora’s gummi ship and seeks out her own adventures for as long as she thinks it’ll help.

She doesn’t need to--will not--wait for Sora to be found when she can look for him herself.

She just…doesn’t know what to think about the ever-present shadow that stubbornly hovers at her back.

- o - o - o -

Kairi swings Destiny’s Embrace in a strong, downward strike. After the wriggly heartless under her boots bursts and dissolves, she spins around. Her mouth is curled into a dark, frowning curve; her keyblade snaps out to strike another leaping at her from her right. The flowers along the edge cut through the shadow’s throat, ripping it into nothing. “I don’t need your help.”

“That was never debated.”

Kairi rolls her eyes. She digs the heel of her boot into soil, grabs the hilt of Embrace with both hands, and shoves it forward into the heartless soldier scrabbling at her. “Then stop following me.”

Isa’s blue hair fans around his shoulders as he moves. He is not used to the keyblade in his hand; he keeps trying to wield it like his usual claymore.

To be honest, she can’t even believe the thing is in his hands at all.

With a growling cry, Kairi cuts the last shadow down and releases a deep sigh. Destiny’s Embrace glitters away, but she would be lying if she tried to say she wasn’t tempted to keep it ready at a moment’s notice with him around.

“There. They’re all gone now,” she says and fists her hands at her sides. “I’m fine. You can go back to Twilight Town.”

Isa doesn’t say a word, so Kairi turns around again. He stands with his arms crossed over his chest, feet shoulder-width apart, a yard or two behind her, like he expects her to be okay with him here in the first place.

“I said,” she stresses and extends her arms at either side, “you can go back. If you were waiting for something like permission, then there it is! You have it! Bye!”

When he still doesn’t say anything, Kairi makes a grand show of rolling her eyes and spinning around to walk down this world’s beautifully forested hill. She doesn’t have the time or patience for him.

So why the hell can she feel him following her descent?

- o - o - o -

The gummi ship’s rockets putter as it comes to a stop. Space is vast and infinite around them, an endless expanse of stars and criss-crossed nebulas that look like the smokey efforts of a child finger painting with watercolor. It’s gorgeous. It’s immense. It’s serene. It’s exactly what Kairi needs right now.

“Okay, dude, we need to talk. It’s been three days. When are you finally gonna get off this ship and leave me alone?”

Kairi’s cheek is bunched against her palm as she lounges in the driver’s seat. Her other wrist hangs loosely over the steering, eyes lifting to the glass dome above them and Isa’s frowning reflection she can see the faint outline of.

Isa doesn’t answer.

Which is exactly half of the problem.

Kairi turns, tossing both of her feet over the side of the pilot’s chair. “Why aren’t you answering me?”

“There’s no answer I have to give that will be satisfactory to you.”

“That’s--” Kairi almost bites her tongue. It’s frustratingly accurate. That pisses her off, too. “Look. I can try, okay? I can try to understand but that’s only if you have a good reason.”

“You speak like you already think I’m not here for a good reason.”

“I have it in good faith that you’re not here for Sora and that’s the only reason I see that’s good right now.” Kairi glares hard into citrine eyes; for some reason, they remind her of acid. “So no, I don’t think you’re here for a ‘good’ reason.”

Isa’s look is enough to communicate a single, humbling word: Exactly.

“You say you’ll try,” he mutters quietly. “But pre-condemning me based upon your presumptions seems to hinder that effort.”

Kairi’s lips slam together.

In echo to her silence, something in Isa softens. He turns to look out at the endless stretch of space surrounding them. There’s a glimmering, sunset-painted world surrounded by flower petals a fair distance away. “If you wish to know, if you care to…” he does not finish that thought; perhaps it’s because he cannot finish it. “…I wish for atonement.”

“…what, now?”

Isa’s sharp, angular features harden. His mouth slips down into a frown. “I said, I--”

“--no, no, I heard what you said! It’s that you actually think that’s going to happen.” Kairi’s voice shakes a little. Her hands ball into fists. There’s a tremulous pause in her speech, a moment that teeters on the edge of something, and then it bursts. “Ugh! I was kind enough to let you join me for a few days, but if I’m being honest? I thought it was because of this. I had a gut feeling it was because of some…misguided attempt like this to get me to forgive you for what you did. And I thought, ‘Sure, why not?’ anyway, because that’s what Sora would have done!”

“Kairi--”

“--but everytime I look at you, I get so angry!” Kairi’s voice tilts; it tightens and changes. “I guess that makes me a hypocrite, doesn’t it? I want to be angry at you for kidnapping me, for how you treated Sora, but he isn’t even here right now, after he made himself disappear from saving all of us! From saving me by using the power of waking again, and--!”

“Kairi!”

Kairi’s fist, thrown to the side, knocks against the gummi sheep’s steering. With a violent yank to the right, Kairi and Isa spill over onto the floor and side of the lopsided ship. Kairi’s knee bangs against the other co-pilot chair. Her back crashes against the steel wall of the cockpit siding. With a short cry and hiss, she grabs at her knee with both hands and bows her head over her leg. Her back curls.

After a long moment, Isa slowly rises to his feet first.

He climbs to the steering and sets the gummi ship right side up.

After an even longer moment, Isa walks over to kneel in front of her. “Kairi.”

“…I’m sorry…”

“Kairi.”

Kairi sniffs and blinks up at him. She hates the way her eyes water and the way her lower lip trembles. She hates how tight her chest is. “I’m sorry,” she gasps again and she hates those words but right now, she thinks she hates herself most. “I’m such an idiot. What right do I have to be angry with you anymore when it’s my fault the two most important people to me are gone?”

Isa’s hand falls on hers and gently pries away her hands from her knee. A big, wide bruise is purpling and mottling, forming a cathartic ring of blue-black.

“I think…” Isa begins and gently releases her hands to cast cure over her knee. “…you will find that you and I are more alike than you think.”

Kairi blinks up at Isa.

“It seems we both must learn to forgive ourselves.”

Kairi takes a deep breath in and feels the way her lungs swell with it, with air. For the first time in three days, the knot in her chest finally begins to loosen.

- o - o - o -

“Can you believe it’s already been over a month?”

Kairi winces. Hard.

Ventus straightens up and quickly puts out a hand on her arm. He gives it a gentle squeeze. “Oh, I didn’t mean that in a bad way! Ugh, I’m sorry. I should’ve been more thoughtful…I meant it in like a--”

“--no.” Kairi shakes her head and puts on a brave face. She puts on a good smile and covers his hand with her own. Gently, she pulls it away and sets their hands down on the counter between them. “I know what you mean. You’ve been reunited with your family for over a month now and that’s…really wonderful, Ventus. I’m happy for you. And I know that wherever he is, Sora’s happy, too.”

It’s funny watching the emotions that fly over Ventus’ face at the mention of “family.” He’s so much like Sora and Roxas that way; he wears his heart so visibly. He’s so easy to read.

It is so warm in this kitchen, too, Kairi thinks. So light and airy. Just being here, sitting with friends again after traveling and fighting for so long with no leads, is more rejuvenating than the warm coffee cup she cradles between her hands. Ventus, Aqua, and Terra have done well for themselves, she thinks. They have a lovely epilogue together.

It’ll end soon, she knows. The three have already told her they have plans to help join the search for Sora, intending to dive into the Realm of Darkness as a “just in case.” Just as she has finally decided she intends to take Ansem up on his offer of a year-long sleep so he can study her heart. It’s the most frustrating decision she has ever had to make: to try to help by, of all things, resting, when really she wants to fight, fight, fight--but if something in her slumbering heart holds a key to finding Sora again, well.

She did say she’d do anything.

It’s with an endearing blush that Ventus raises a finger to scratch at his cheek. “Y-yeah. My family…”

Kairi raises an eyebrow. A small smile stretches her face. “What, you don’t agree?”

“What?”

“You wouldn’t call them that?”

“Oh, no, calling them my family’s perfect! I mean, really, Aqua and Terra have always kind of been big siblings to me, so I guess it makes sense. It’s just funny to hear the word out loud and not in my heart, y’know?” Ventus smiles. He looks over Kairi’s shoulder to the trio awkwardly talking beyond them, in the lounge area of their home, however temporary it may be. “But I guess…what else would you call people who have your back no matter the bad you’ve done?”

Kairi thinks about the month she’s spent searching for Sora. She thinks about all the adventures she’s been on, all of the heartless and unversed and nobodies she’s fought. She thinks about the one person who chose to be there through it all, however much she fought him on it at the start.

And for the first time, she thinks maybe Isa really does deserve the keyblade he wields.

Her eyes land on him, frowning and clearly uncomfortable between Aqua and Terra. Isa looks back and meets her eyes in turn with an expression that bends the scar across his face in a pitiful read of, Please. Save me.

Kairi laughs and takes a long, slow sip of her coffee. She raises her other hand to give him a…friendly gesture.

When he raises his hand to give it back, she thinks maybe there’s truth to what Ventus says.

[ask-the-cordium-crew]

the experiments behind closed doors (the sisters) a WKTC story

warning: 

my grammar and punctuation aren’t the best i hope you can understand 

as for a second warning this story is extremely dark it goes into details about the experiments the character dark mark also known as actor mark dose on two faunus sisters you have been warned i hope you enjoy the story! click the read more link for some extra info about this story 

experiment log: entry number 7 (the twin sisters) 

“this is mark Edward fischbach ...thanks to the help of rd. walts and Salem i was able to acquire two child sized tubes i also have the equipment to continue my experiments each experiment i attempt proves different results”

“the first 3 experiments attempted were complete failures subjects 1 and 2 died before transformation could even began dying from complete organ failure and blood loss what a pity.... it has been noted those with much stronger aura can endure much more punishment and can handle the transformation”

“subject 3 a spider faunus they seemed very promising at the start able to handle the torture and tests at first even the transformation into a skull fanger began with success sadly though in the middle of the transformation the subject appeared to die from complications with the venom beginning to be produced in the lower buttock the accelerated growth killed the man with in a few days once dead all further transformation stopped at a halt i learned that a subject needs to be alive for the transformation to fully take place”

“subjects 4 and 5 we’re more of a success but still... somewhat failures subject 4 was fed given water hell survived the transformation but... still remained enough of their mind to cry in a somewhat human voice and still had one human like arm left over from the transformation subject was terminated in fear they would over time gain their mind fully back subject 5? well subject 5 I've already well documented and has been ONE OF MY MOST SUCCESSFUL EXPERIMENTS YET!”

in the audio log recorded by mark he could be heard laughing loudly in a sadistic voice 

“... the dog turned into a complete beowolf alpha the only thing that remained of who she once was? hmm nothing major just a different colored pair of ears with this experiment i also sewed the woman's mouth closed while she was still somewhat faunus like and when she fully transformed her mouth had grown in to be unable to be opened leading to the newly formed beowolf alpha to be completely silent but still violent in nature they have no pack of their own”

“experiment number 6....  it would have been a most likely successful experiment if it weren’t for GOD DAM ABE COMING IN KNOCKING OUT THE TWO WHO ARE MEANT TO HELP GUARD THE MANSION THAT STUPID TRAITOROUS BITCH KILLED HER... now i have to watch my back knowing Abe will probably get help with taking me down but i know Salem won’t let that happen”

“but now onto my most recent experiment shall i?”

“day 1 Monday 10 am in the morning Dr. walts and hazel had brought the equipment into my home hazel of course was doing all the heavy lifting he didn’t know what all this stuff was for but thankfully did not question it Dr. walts had me sign a few things i payed him ten thousand Len hazel finished bringing the equipment in after 30 minutes before leaving Dr. walts gave me up to 50 gallons worth of the goop from one of the Grimm pits i thanked him and he soon left”

“day 1 Monday 12 pm me and my butler Benjamin had finished installing the equipment and now i waited in my lab telling Benjamin to go get the shipment that was due about now Benjamin was about to leave but i heard... emerald try and offer to get it for him he tried to deny but i came out i gave emerald a dark look but let her go get it she returned an hour later carrying it in struggling a small bit”

“she didn’t know what was inside but from the look on her face she clearly didn’t like what it was now why did she want to go and get my shipment? well she wanted to let Benjamin have some time to relax plus she did need some fresh air that girl likes to thing i am an idiot... she really left to get some time away from me thats why she took so long hmm... i do understand why she might want to stay away from me after what happened between me and her a few weeks ago hell... she was still healing from the incident”

“day 1 Monday 2 pm i had opened the create and let the two twin girls out of it they were two sheep faunus it seemed i gave them food and what else but they begged for their lives and asked to be brought home to their parents what pathetic little animals they’d be much better being what they should be treated as TWO MONSTERS WHO ARE ONLY GOOD FOR KILLING OR BEING KILLED BY SOME HUNTER OR HUNTRESS”

“of course i ignored them and after they finished eating at 2:30 pm i began the torture from the hours of 2:30 pm to 6 pm after torturing them they were given food and water inside bowls they didn’t deserve to eat like A HUMAN WOULD”

“Tuesday day 2 12 pm... i came into my personal lab and saw one of the girls outside her cage she seemed to have picked the lock with her hair pin i had not noticed before however the other girl was still in the cage hell she even tried to re lock it behind her sister my my she was so quick to rat her sister out her sister was about to yell at her younger sibling but i quickly grabbed onto her shirt and punched her till her nose was broken i snapped the nose back in place and shoved her back into the cage”

“the one girl who stayed in the cage i decided to reward with a small chocolate for staying where she belonged why would i do such a thing she was a rat after all well i wasn’t just feeling nice i liked how she knew there was no point in trying to escape i can respect a faunus when they know their place”

“hmm as for the other girl? well i damaged her skull with my attack i found out after an x ray scan that taught her not to try it again”

“Tuesday day 2 3 pm i came back and decided it was finally time to test out my new equipment”

“i had the girls undress into a pair of grey bras and panties i did look away after all i am still a gentlemen and well i might be a monster to Abe but i am no kiddie diddler that was too low even for someone like me after they changed i carefully set up some oxygen tanks outside the machinery and attached an oxygen mask onto both the girls not just that i carefully cut some holes into their necks and attached some feeding tubes along with IV drips into their arms”

“by 4 PM i had the terminals set up i made sure my equipment was working correctly the IV drips were working and the feeding tubes were working fine i then activated the submerge button filling both their tanks up top to bottom with the goop”

“thanks to my new equipment i could use cameras from inside the tanks to record for me how they changed over prolonged exposure to the strange goop that filled their tanks so i wouldn’t need to lift a finger besides replacing their IV bags and refilling their food and air”

“and thus the experiment finally began”

“day 3 Wednesday time doesn’t matter but it was early in the morning the first change began their skin began to change black i decided to still run a test on them both for the trouble making sister i carefully reached into her tank and put on some underwater headphones and exposed her to a constant broadcast of horrible sounds making her listen to the screams of past experiments begging for help and made her listen to myself constantly telling her she's useless no one loves her reminding her that her own flesh and blood betrayed her this seemed to have caused her to struggle with in the tank and her mind to be filled with anger depression and fear”

“as for the one who seemed to want to follow orders? i did the same thing however! i let her listen to peaceful music animal noises and words of encouragement on loop i made one feel loved and one feel hated and worthless wondering if this would affect their change”

“day 4 Thursday the next change seemed to have taken place over night the one given the negative feedback had her skull showing her skin slowly being removed from her face her eyes already a deep red and a glow starting in her mouth the top of her skull was partly cracked and hell her ribs along with her spine seemed to be starting to pop out of her chest”

“it seems the negative feedback was turning her into an apathy”

“as for the one with the positive feedback? her face was beginning to turn into a giant hole at the top of her head the sides of her face and the bottom of her chin their started to grow these large sharp almost spike like bones using her skull as a base i carefully used one of the mini cameras and looked into her mouth in her throat it was beginning to stretch out and appearing inside was 4 smaller spikes and of course everything was starting to turn into a deep glowing red” 

“... it seemed the one who was being treated good being fed candy and other foods that might cause acid reflex began transforming into a blind worm but oddly enough although she was starting to show signs of growth she wouldn’t fully fill the tank she would be a much smaller verion of the blind worm it must have been the fact she was still a child that made the growth only go so far”

“day 5 Friday food was no longer required for the one girl her arms were shrinking in size but growing in length and her fingers becoming very sharp and no skin left just bone her midsection near her pelvis area began to rip and tear soon creating holes see thru holes in the skin her eyes were now cold and red and it was beginning to be hard to tell she was even female let alone a faunus at this point hmm... though something odd happened because the fact she was once a sheep faunus her blackened skin was beginning to grow a black coat of fur her head was even beginning to be covered in it not much but enough to cover up the cracks speaking of her pelvis despite blood coming from it the bone had started to cover it like how an apathy’s pelvis is covered in an odd triangular bone her ribs had fully covered her chest at this point” 

“as for the other girl her face had fully transformed along with her head her arms and legs also seemed to slowly being converted into extra skin and a bony armor for her worm like body the headphones were removed from both at this point very carefully this girl didn’t need her breathing mask anymore her growth was starting to come to a halt but her body didn’t stop transforming yet however unlike her sister she was almost fully transformed and she wasn’t growing the weird wool like fur just a slimy coat of skin that seemed to burn my skin a bit upon touch” 

“a week later me and Benjamin loaded the Grimm onto my personal ship given to me as a present for my 20th birthday we kept the Grimm in the tubes as their transformation was complete they needed to be released thankfully the tubes were strong enough to hold them both”

“the older sister was a fully formed apathy the only thing that made her different from most apathy was the sheep like coat so she was dropped off in a small abandoned town in a frozen wasteland by dropped off i mean we were in the air we opened the hatch and let her crash to the ground letting glass break and her to escape hell it seemed their were a few apathy their already they didn’t seem to attack her i would have loved to stay and watch hell i am sure walts would have loved the footage but it was much to dangerous i knew what apathy were capable of”

“the younger sister was a very small blind worm fully transformed but no where near the size of a blind worm found in the wild though doesn’t mean she was small just means she barely was bigger than the standard huntress she was dropped off in a desert climate we did the same thing dropping her high enough so the glass would break but she wouldn’t be killed on impact of course after escaping she tried to shoot an acid like projectile at us but we escaped with barely any damages to the ship” 

“hmm i am disappointed in the fact these Grimm are never perfect but hopefully these differences would help them in combat one way or another perhaps these differences might even make them more deadly in some ways” 

“this is mark Edward fischbach otherwise known as dark mark signing off”

the audio diary ends 

this story is number 1 of 4 stories that will be released leading up to the anniversary of who killed markiplier 

this story was inspired by the comic series handplates by zara i hope you all enjoyed! 

[thebeethathums]

An Adventure - 13

Pairing: Bilbo Baggins x Reader

A/N: In which the dwarves slip away. I thank Tolkien and the screenwriters of the Hobbit for that beautiful bit concerning Bilbo's place on the journey. I had to include it... I just love it so much. SO CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE ON THAT.

Standing on the balcony with Gandalf, you shivered and turned from him, pressing your hands over your face with a soft hum. Had anyone seen your face then, they would have watched your eyes go a milky white and a crack like design pattern the skin around them, both giving off a soft glow.

You could see it… someone was coming to Rivendell- a man and a woman- they would be there by nightfall. You let your hands fall, the moment passed, and looked up to Gandalf, who was watching you with a sense of cautious curiosity, “Saruman the White is on his way along with a blond maiden of elven decent whom I do not know the name of… I believe they intend to put our quest to an end.”

“Galadriel…” Gandalf breathed, looking out at Imladris again, “You must take the dwarves and go.”

There was a period of silence before you softly queried, “Will you convince them of the darkness? I feel it, Gandalf… even now, in this peaceful place, there is something brewing.”

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to his side reassuringly, “I will do my best, little one, but you must go and leave me here. Keep an eye on our friends until I can join you again.”

You gave a single nod, giving the hand on your shoulder a squeeze before turning to go find Thorin and begin the preparations to slip out of Imladris while Gandalf met with the White Council.

You found him with the other dwarves a bit away, approaching quietly but not silently like you normally did, and Balin spotted you, giving a grin, “Lass! We’ve been missing you!”

There were nods and calls of agreement from the others and you gave a small smile but shook your head, “I’m afraid I’ve come on business, lads… Thorin, a word please.”

He eyed you suspiciously before excusing himself to follow you to a quiet corner, giving you an expectant frown, “Speak.”

“We must leave before it is light or not at all. The light of day will bring with it a strong opposition to your journey and it would be best if we were out of sight when it does.”

“And Gandalf?”

“He has his duties to tend to but promises to join us again as soon as it is possible. You must trust me, Thorin. Please. The fate of your quest and Erebor hangs in the balance.”

The dwarf grunted, “We will be ready when you give the word.”

He began to walk away and you softly added, “I don’t need to remind you that we do not wish to alert our host. Stealth is key.”

With a small nod, he continued on to quietly spread to the others what the plan was and you spun on your heel, going to the stables to make your own preparations. Blossom nickered unhappily at your arrival, sensing something was up, and you shushed him, pausing only a moment to give him a pat on the nose before going to collect your pack and weapons. You slung it over your shoulder and went to say goodbye to Blossom, pulling his nose down to your face, “Be well my friend. I will return one day if I can. Until then treat our elven friends with the same respect you afford me.”

He gave a soft nicker and stamped his feet as you parted from him and wiped a tear from your face before neatly placing his brush on top of his now empty saddle with a small note written in elven script that simply read, “Please take care of him.”

You crept along with hardly a sound, making your way to the room Elrond had given you to gather the supplies he’d left you for such a time when your party was to depart; he had not known it would be so soon. You swiftly packed two new sets of clothes, a new cloak, various bandages and healing supplies, a new blanket, and a silver hair clip along with your other things.

Throwing your purple cloak over your shoulders before quietly strapping your short swords to your waist and tucking all your daggers away, you felt Gandalf’s signal tugging at the back of your mind. It was time to go.

You took precautionary measures as you made your way back to the dwarves, keeping to the shadows with light footfalls and swift movements as your current appearance would surely alert any passing elves that something was amiss. A number of the dwarves jumped when you emerged from the dark to place a hand on Thorin’s shoulder, “It is time.”

He gave a nod of acknowledgment and you turned away, striding off to keep watch while he got his kin ready. You closed your eyes for a moment, listening, and a hand brushed your shoulder. When you turned, you found Balin flanked by the others and you inclined your head that they should follow, leading them out of and away from Rivendell and its lush valley in silence.

Once you were far enough away that the path forward was clear, you let Thorin lead on, falling back to bring up the rear as you counted to make sure no one had been left behind- thirteen dwarves and a hobbit.

The sun was rising over Rivendell when you looked back, wanting to know what was happening in the now distant city below before shaking your head to stop yourself from going too far into those desires. This was no time to force yourself into a vision simply out of curiosity because, unlike the ones that came naturally, doing so would be beyond exhausting. You turned to continue on, finding Bilbo looking back as well and giving him a little smile as you linked your arm with his to lead him onward.

Back in Rivendell, Galadriel and Gandalf discussed the rising darkness and your current journey, their thinking very much the same concerning both matters.

Galadriel’s voice hummed into the air, “You send your apprentice with them, do you not trust her?”

Gandalf shook his head, “I trust her far more than most… Her presence among us was not needed. She knows what is coming, what lurks in the dark, perhaps even better than you or I. She can feel it.”

A small smile pulled at his companion’s lips, “Elrond thinks her a touch seer and from you, I see it is true. A rare gift indeed… You wish to protect her.”

“I do. She may feel the shadows but she does not fully understand what they mean and I will do everything in my power to keep it that way. Should she fall into the wrong hands because her powers touch what they should not, sending a call out into the dark…”

“She will not. With you as her mentor, she has grown strong and brave, her heart will not be swayed even if the worst should arise.”

Gandalf gave a small nod and began to leave when she stopped him, “Mithrandir... Why the Halfling?”

He turned to her, “I do not know… Saruman believes that it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found… I’ve found it is the small things- everyday deeds of ordinary folk- that keeps the darkness at bay… Simple acts of kindness and love. Why Bilbo Baggins? Perhaps it is because I am afraid… and he gives me courage.”

Gandalf’s words seemed to find you over the distance and resonate through you as you peered at your friend through your lashes, arms still linked. You leaned your head on his shoulder for a moment and he tensed slightly, “(F/n)? What is it? Are you alright?”

You hummed in response before whispering, “Thank you, Bilbo.”

He furrowed his brow as you released him, moving ahead of him slightly, and asked, “For what?”

You offered him a soft smile over your shoulder, “For simply being you.”

He tilted his head in confusion but you continued on as before, silently moving among the dwarves like a shepherdess weaving between her sheep to be sure all is well. He wondered if he would ever figure you out and then if he even really wanted to… maybe you were just meant to be a mystery.