#and also too many people are awake presently who are aware of the command and if they fuck with my files while she's running off my pc

[gay-yosuke]

the monotony of transferring file data is somehow less appealing to me (man who loves logging data) than fucking with the logic of a command that, when i programmed it, made me say "you will have to pay me to fuck with this logic again".

im not even getting paid.

[yuck-pfaugh]

Insomniac thoughts about consistency of characterisation pre- and post-Resurrection, surfacing mid-morning because I couldn’t cope with the post editor in the iOS app at a quarter to three… *ahem*

My impression is that Jod and most of his OG duplicitous sluts were in their thirties, up to fortyish, at the time it was all going down. Old enough for some of them to have multiple tertiary degrees and be leaders in their fields; not quite older adults yet. In HtN Augustine tells us Pyrrha (the “stone-cold fox”) was ten years his senior, so probably in her late forties or fiftyish. In NtN:

I didn't have to worry about the public or the media — we had a pet cop, P—. She'd made detective by that point; was going on to big things in the MoD. Knew G— from way back, and G– and I were both hometown boys, so P– kept the heat down for us.

Later on Jod reiterates that he and G— grew up on the same street.

We also hear that P— “adored being a cop”.

This is of course off-putting for a lot of readers. But I understand that the New Zealand police, while by no means a squad of saints, are not abusive and murderous on the same level as the American kind we may be more familiar with (e.g. they don’t normally carry guns). So I’m fairly sure what we’ve got here is a character who might actually have been a good cop, in a country in which that concept is not implausible beyond belief — who then, crucially, turns her back on the law (and on her own successful career) to protect the kids from her neighbourhood. Because that was what it was about for her all along.

I don’t think the Dad Pyrrha we love to see is separable from Cop Pyrrha. I think in each life she lives her priority is to look after and protect her people, and she does that in specifically masculine-coded, paternal-coded ways. The Pyrrha we get in NtN is — as with the other Lyctors we know, charming Augustine becoming a man of plex, reproductive justice advocate Mercymorn stealing semen, dutiful Gideon obeying even the command to launch multiple violent murder attempts against a tiny traumatised teenager — someone whose best qualities have been worn out and warped by too many centuries of Jod’s unliving, undying empire. But, perhaps because Pyrrha was awake and aware for less time than the rest, that kind of love does palpably linger on in her.

Pyrrha practically stumbled away — she dropped to her knees before the chair and Palamedes — she reached out and took Palamedes's hand, and then Camilla's. Her face and hands showed only dumb despair. "I've loved you two," she said. "Not well. Not even wholesomely. I don't have it in me. But I've loved you — in a better world I'd be able to say, 'Like you were my own,' but I don't know what that would even mean anymore. You've been my agents ... you've been stand-ins for something I haven't had for longer than either of you can understand."

You can feel it every time she bribes Nona into eating, or carries her when her legs fail, or buys a birthday present and hides it away under the sink for the big day. (And when she looks at her lover's daughter with that mute hunger to have been a parent to her, too.) It’s a feature of the system Jod designed, that Lyctors don’t get much of a chance to love anyone but him. His hands, his gestures… raised by him, bound to him, renamed by him… God must be able to touch all of creation... He’s the epitome of the kind of parent who can’t imagine or allow their child to have an existence apart from their own, who’d rather stunt them than let them grow. He claimed Kiriona as his child, but he also made her his construct. And we know what he did to Alecto. But six months with Pyrrha (and the Sixth, likewise good at modeling love) and Nona just blossoms. The betrayed soul of a murdered planet has learnt anger management techniques — and now she’s learning to dance.

It seems as though at every step of Pyrrha’s story (and, just to confirm, I shall be going on a bloody rampage if we don't get the missing pieces in AtN) she knows she can’t save everyone and get everything right. Sometimes she can't save anyone at all. She has often been a casualty of her devotion. But she keeps on and on still trying, also like the Sixth, to make the best and kindest and truest choices she can in this myriadic shit sandwich. And she never stops loving the people she loves. Wouldn't know how to.

In conclusion… since I should probably conclude something… let's see. Whatever she thinks of herself, Pyrrha’s a good dad. Her accidental agents are lucky to have had those six months with her. It's not ‘playing’ house if the love there is real. And you can’t take ‘loved’ away.

[tiamat-zx]

First time someone attempts to alleviate their pain and Beau?

AO3 Link for those who wish to leave kudos and comments! I would greatly appreciate comments.

“A Terrible Thing To Waste”, 800 words.

Hope it’s to your liking!

—————

Beau’s head hurts. It feels like it’s been aching for forever, her thoughts overwhelmed by a neverending wave of pain.

Bit by bit, she slowly remembers how it happened.

It had been just a routine investigation at an archaeological site, the initiates under her command working hard to record their findings so that they could be sent back to the library in Rexxentrum.

And then, it happened. An unexpected explosion of arcane force. The resulting shockwave passed through everyone present.

Thankfully, a majority of the monks and wizards managed to shrug off its effects.

Beau, however, wasn’t so fortunate as her guard was down.

All at once, the shockwave overwhelmed all of her senses.

Her thoughts were rapidly spiraling and… fading, like parchment quickly burning away.

Her awareness of the world around her was also fading, as if being enveloped in a thick, impermeable fog.

In her last moments of cognitive thinking, she knew what was happening.

Somehow, it was a trap left behind from the Age of Arcanum. A trap designed to cripple unlucky interlopers through stripping them of their mental faculties.

Or in layman’s terms, it was a mass casting of Feeblemind.

After that, her mind had shattered completely.

And the next thing she knew, she was just acting on feral instinct, lashing out at anyone that got too close. That is, until she was subdued by her people.

And now she’s finally waking up.

“Fuck…” Beau says in a raspy voice, having been unable to speak for… however long it had been since the trap had triggered.

She squints her eyes, her thoughts just barely stitching themselves back together. She’s back in the library in Rexxentrum. Did the archivists on site manage to bring her back here?

How many made it back? And how many were lost?

“Ow!” Beau winces as she rubs her temple. Too much thinking. It hurts to think right now. She even notices that her diadem had been removed, the circlet on a nearby table.

“Ah, you’re finally awake…”

Beau turns her head — ow, too quick, my head’s about to explode — and sees Yudala Fon approaching her. The look of genuine concern is unmistakable on their face.

“High… Curator…” Beau mutters as she tries to sit up. Her head is pounding heavily, protesting the movement.

“Easy, Beauregard. You’re only just managing to recover,” Yudala chides her gently. They help Beau get into a sitting position, a lot more slowly this time. Beau tries to steady her breathing amidst the pain in her head.

“Head… hurts…”

Yudala nods. “Must still be feeling the residual psychic damage from that trap. Here.”

The high curator’s hand lights up and they touch Beau’s temples, casting Cure Wounds as a means of dulling the pain. It does help, somewhat.

Beau exhales slowly. “Thanks.”

The two just remain where they are, taking their time until the fog in Beau’s mind lifts more and more. After several moments, Beau allows herself to open her eyes. It doesn’t hurt anymore.

“I feel much better now…”

“Good.” Yudala helps Beau out of her sickbed and onto her feet. “You’re fortunate to not have had any lasting damage. Some of the others weren’t so lucky. Out of the eleven that went with you, five of them were completely overtaken by the trap and were lost. Those that remained got you back here for treatment.”

“And how long ago was…?” Beau asks hesitantly, not looking forward to knowing how long she was out.

“You were brought back on the same day, then you were laid out for another two even after the Feeblemind effect was lifted.”

Beau frowns, her brow furrowing just as deeply. “And Yasha? Have you notified her?”

Yudala nods. “Yes. Your wife and family have been informed. They should be on their way to come pick you up as we speak.”

A clear and concise answer. Beau can appreciate that. It sucks that she lost three whole days to a fucking wizard trap, and that five of her people were lost to it, but overall it could have been way worse.

“And our findings? Did you get a hold of them?”

“Yes. But we can discuss that later,” Yudala says matter-of-factly. “You just need to go home and get some rest. Please.”

Beau sighs melodramatically, but she’s not about to object. After all, she left Yasha, Clara, TJ, and the kids alone for three days. Far too long.

“No argument here. If I’m not home for a day longer, Yasha won’t let me live it down.”

A moment of silence follows before the expositor and high curator end up chuckling.

Again, all things considered, it could’ve been way worse.

And normally, Beau would be reluctant to ask for time off, being the workaholic she is.

But today can be an exception.

[saphirered]

The first and only time Lucien displayed any vulnerability was when Jester called him "dreamy," after which he alluded to an unpleasant upbringing. I was wondering if you could write something wherein the reader (human) shows interest in him? Being his typical, condescending self, he thinks it's because the reader was with Molly, only to find out the reader is genuinely interested in him, and maybe that thaws his heart a little?

I hope this turned out to your liking. Love me a condescending tiefling who doesn't acknowledge views other than his own. Hope you enjoy! 😘

Lucien, previously mostly indifferent to you, has been keeping his distance after you read him like an open book in the card reading incident with Jester. Maybe having this bunch of gullible but curious adventurers tagging along was a terrible idea after all. Maybe best get rid of them now before it’s too late. But there you are being your stupid charming, beautiful self and something within him hesitates, even more so than with the others. You are an enigma he needs to figure out. Right now you’re an obstacle standing in the way of his goal because every second he’s paying more attention to you, he’s less on guard and that might just compromise his endgame.

Lucien is entertaining the thought to just talk his way into your bed, and get it over with. Maybe once he’s gotten his bias for you out of his system he can get back to work. Besides, you’ve shown some interest in him already, rooted in your connection with the fragment previous to his own return. Same face, same body, a few shared traits maybe, but not the same person. A fatal flaw on your end…

Perhaps Lucien can turn this into leverage, play into the parts you might latch onto believing that maybe the fragment might return to the surface if you call to him. Or play into your feelings for the fragment, play sympathetic and play upon a mutual interest. Because maybe if he plays along, you could be the game changer, the leverage, and give him answers and insights in this Mighty Nein. You might be the key to all the answers he’s seeking. And if achieving this goal results in the two of you sleeping together, two birds one stone. There’s no negative outcome for him here. Either you turn on your friends and join him or eventually stand against him and he’d already have gotten what he wants from you.

From the moment you met Lucien it was abundantly clear he’s not Molly. Yes there are some similarities and habits they share but beyond a surface level they’re very different. That doesn’t mean you weren’t curious to get to know this version of the tiefling. While he has many flaws, some that cannot be overlooked, there’s something about Lucien that commands attention. With how closed off this version is you played into the parts you did recognise, if only to make your encounters with him a bit more pleasant and less tense, be that for yourself or others around you.

Your encounters, especially when eventually traveling together grew more frequent and less tense to the point one could call them enjoyable. Of course the Nein caught onto this and saw it as hope their, your Mollymauk might still be in there. He might, maybe not in the way they hoped. Right now Lucien is here and he’s here to stay. Even from the start you didn’t want to make enemies with the man be that out of self preservation, your own curiosity or something else entirely. Making enemies with the Nonagon just seemed stupid and getting to know him, looking past all the theatrics he put up for the Nein, he’a actually a half decent person.

You’d been making progress, getting to know Lucien, spending more time with him. From the start you didn’t hide the fact that you may or may not have a thing for him. Seems like your taste hasn’t changed; charming enigmatic drama queens with great style, a dash of egoism and some hedonism thrown into the mix. It was all going well and you could see the walls slowly beginning to crumble giving you a peak behind the curtain; Lucien without the facade but then Jester came along with Molly’s cards. Curiosity peaked of course Lucien took her up on her offer of a reading.

You saw that twitch, saw the walls come down and you got a peak behind the curtain just like you had wanted. Only it lasted much shorter than you had hoped the walls rose and the curtain closed once more. You got some insights in his past based of his responses and with how close attention you were paying you know he was aware of what you were able to glean. You kind of pity him for the past he went through even the present he lives now. You recall Molly deflecting, changing the subject, doing anything to avoid confrontation if it didn’t suit him. After that card reading you got the same from Lucien this time in the form of a cold shoulder. Dammit Jester. Now you have to find a way to fix this.

The others are asleep in the dome save for Fjord currently keeping watch and you awake and bothered. A ways away at a comfortable distance is the camp of the Tombtakers. They too are asleep with the exception of Lucien who sits in front of the fire staring into the flames. Getting up with a soft puff you make eye contact with Fjord. A confused ‘where are you going?’ glance from the half-orc leads you to respond with a nod in the direction of Lucien which in turn leads to a non-verbal argument with the man, an argument that won’t stop you so when the last is said and done you just wave and step outside of the bubble, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders to block out the cold Eiselcross air.

You’re not deliberately quiet padding your way through the thick layer of snow and know full well you should be in sight of Lucien but he doesn’t in any way respond to you. His eyes stay trained on the fire in front of him so you walk up beside him. The cold very much bothers you and you’re beginning to regret your decision of walking out of the comforts of the dome just because you want to sort out this sudden cold behaviour towards you and get it over with. It may take a leap of faith to do so but if that’s what it takes, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

“Hey, I could really do with some of the perks of that infernal bloodline if you don’t mind.” You nudge his leg with your foot pulling the blanket around your shoulders just a little bit tighter. Shaken out of whatever trance Lucien had allowed himself to slip in he looks up at you.

“If you’re so cold you can go back to the comforts of that dome so handily provided by your wizard friend.” Ouch. That’s icy cold but you haven’t come this far by just accepting rude comments. You’re stubborn and you’re not backing down just yet.

“Don’t patronise me.” You sit down keeping a good foot or so between the two of you as you stare into the flames, the warmth not nearly enough to actually keep you comfortable, you’re shivering. Your presence alone puts Lucien on edge so here you’ll stay. Besides, if you get hypothermia, the clerics can fix you right?

About fifteen minutes pass and your quivering doesn’t end, your breath visible in the air, you are a constant nuisance to his previously peaceful evening of plotting. Why did you have to leave your bloody bubble and come bother him? Because right now you’re the only thing on his mind and all previous queries and grand plans have left his brain and there’s only you. Maybe you’ll just leave if he keeps this going? No you won’t. Lucien knows you longer than today and once you’ve set your mind to something you’re not letting go until you’re satisfied. Right now you’re anything but satisfied.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with because I need to get back to figuring out if you lot will remain useful or a thorn in my drawers. What do you want?” Lucien sneers studying you. His red eyes harsh, you get a clear view of the frustration and tension.

“We’re cutting the crap? Okay. All fine with me.” You clasp your hands together and lean your chin on them as you address the tiefling. “Why have you been avoiding me and giving me the cold shoulder ever since you showed an ounce of vulnerability?” Two can play this game and if you know anything from Molly it’s that if you get him frustrated and on edge he’s more likely to let things slip he’d usually keep in. By the looks of it Lucien isn’t much different in that aspect but he has a bit more self control.

“Perhaps I’m just done playing the part of a long gone fragment you’re desperate to hold onto, darling. It’s been fun but the game’s over.” Lucien’s this close to deadpanning that sentence. Close but not close enough. You laugh almost disappointed. Such a blatant lie, you expected better from this one.

“Laugh all you want. The game is over.”

“You’ve spent too much time with people agreeing with you all the time that you seem to have forgotten what it’s like to have your views misalign with that of another.”

“Now you’re the one patronising me.” He jabs back. Eyebrow raised you press your lips together. So looks like it’s not going to take much for you to get answers out of Lucien.

“I’m not the one spooked by some cards and the notion of showing a fraction of vulnerability in a moment the majority won’t even catch on to let alone understand.” Lucien turns to face you and glares.

“Are you done yet?” Oh you’re not nearly done but you also know Lucien can be fickle and you don’t want to push too far. You’ve got one more up your sleeve. Okay maybe a few more… Should you give him a choice on which one he’d like to address? You snort. Lucien grabs you by the shoulder and turns you to face him with disapproving expression trying to cover the frustration and how much you’re getting on his nerves right now; less because of your attitude and more because of his own issues.

“So your game ends before you weasel your way into my bed and attempt to use me for your own benefit, manipulate me until I spill all my friends and I’s secrets, and cast me aside once I’ve outlived my usefulness?” Nail. On. The Head. Lucien’s taken aback by that one. The shock’s clear and he does not like it at all you caught him off guard by exposing his plans just like that when you’d been playing along just as he had been trying to get you to.

“How’s that been working out for you? Or do you count attachment as a weakness now as well? Since vulnerability already is a major one in your opinion.” Lucien takes the verbal attacks and he’s none to happy about it. He’s just lost his advantage, or at least the advantage he thought he had. Maybe he got so caught up in this little game that the line between him playing and him actually being blurred and you just called him out on exactly that.

“Depends. How well is it working for you?”

“You trying to charm your way into my bed? Peachy. You trying to manipulate me by playing into the shared traits between my dead companion and you. You’re doing terrible. Maybe your own feelings got in the way? Is attraction also a weakness then?” Lucien’s fist clenches as you yet again air his dirty laundry. This habit has to stop, for his sake.

“Very well then, since me charming my way into your arms has been going so smoothly, let’s get this over with and go our separate ways that we for once and all can confirm your fragment is never coming back and I can get you out of my head.”

“If you think that’s going to solve all your problems then I fully consent but I highly doubt that will fix anything since your own interests in me won’t just go away by sleeping with me. That’s not how these things work.” No use in beating around the bush and while he’d rather not admit it Lucien considered the fact that just getting rid of the jitters won’t get rid of his feelings towards you. Damn you. This would have been so much easier if you would just prove him right even if he wasn’t.

“Then what do you suggest? We kiss and make up and go our separate ways?” Lucien huffs and you roll your eyes. Anything to deflect from being faced with his feelings and dismiss yours. Can he just accept you’re interested in him and not in the shadow of Mollymauk that’s left in him?

“You want a kiss? Fine. A kiss you’ll get.” You’re the one getting exasperated with his quick dismissal so you put your hand on the side of his neck. Give him a chance to pull away or stop you before you put your lips to his. The kiss deepens into a snog and you find yourself hoping Fjord hasn’t been keeping an eye on you or he’d be in for a show without any context. You’ll have a lot of explaining to do later….

Enough’s enough and you break the kiss paying close attention to Lucien who’s processing whatever’s running through his head. You just hope he’ll be able to put his own stubbornness aside, get over himself and admit to his feelings and yours because last you checked denial is much more of a problem than vulnerability ever will be.

“You need to start accepting people don’t automatically work the way you think they work. You don’t have to like the fact I actually like you nor do you have to like me in return but you cannot dismiss my feelings and opinions just because they don’t suit you.” You pat his cheek and while he’d consider it a belittling gesture, it’s fair game at this point. Maybe the game’s still being played after all and he was never in control of the game to begin with. That’s a bit of a damper in the grand scheme of it all.

It leaves Lucien to think. Since he’s already way over his head and too far into this that there’s no way back, maybe he’ll take his chances. No major changes. The goals remain the same but for now maybe he can enjoy a little company every so often if you’ll allow it… Maybe he can drop the cold exterior, get rid of the ‘divine purpose’ attitude and just let himself be for however long it lasts. At the end of they day he has little to lose and much more to gain.

“Fine. I recognise your interests in me as more than for what silvers of that fragment remain.” Lucien does not like admitting defeat and the expression on his face brings you so much satisfaction. Yes you might have feelings for the man but that doesn’t mean you can’t find joy in these kinds of interactions even if they are rooted in frustrations.

“And…” You push for him to continue. You can see him grit his teeth but he continues at your behest.

“And, accept them along my own. No matter how much I hate to admit it, I apologise for excusing my own behaviour and motives as means solely to manipulate you.” Lucien glares at you seeing your own satisfaction.

“Good boy.” You pat his cheek.

“Now since you’ve gotten all of this out of me you better share that blanket of yours because you’re not the only one freezing out here.”

“So the cold does bother him after all.” You grin and scoot over to wrap the blanket around the both of you. A bit of the rigidness remains, not ready to drop the cold and distant attitude just yet, if ever entirely, you know the ice is melting, even if just a little. More than you expected. More than you could have asked for. Now how the hell are you going to explain this to the others….

[ddarker-dreams]

Levi Ackerman x Reader hcs. [COMM]

a/n: i haven’t written for levi in many years!! some lock lore is that i used to write for him the most, it’s actually what got me into fanfiction/anime in the first place back in 2012... so it feels very nice to write for him again. i had a lot of fun with this! :’) word count: 2k. warnings: non explicit mentions of death (not involving reader), just canon typical stuff.

Love has been a concept that remains closed off in Levi’s mind. Getting close to others is already a risk too great in the world he’s come to know, a factor that’s proven unfortunately true time and time again. When you’re close to others, it means the possibility of being hurt by them all the same when they inevitably leave. The pain of losing another he’s grown attached to outweighs the possible benefits that could come with a closer connection. This philosophy has ensnared his heart, creating a barrier that no one dared slipping past for many years.

Even though Levi makes the choice to be wary of growing closer than necessary to people, he also understands the importance of trusting in his comrades. He has his own way of mentally assessing new recruits, and didn’t think much of you initially. You were a fresh face, who hoped that your efforts would cultivate humanity’s future. He’d seen many with that spark too many times to count. All of them ending up killed in gruesome ways, or losing the shine in their eyes should they live past another expedition. Though he still has an inherent respect for anyone willing to put their lives on the line for the Survey Corps, this extending to you as well.

His initial assessment of you was proven incorrect. While no longer as naive to the horrors of the outside world, the spark inside of you remains ever bright. There’s determination, that has only grown in strength as time goes on, rather than fading away. It catches his eye, to say the least. He looks after you from afar, without even realizing it. Levi tells himself that it’d just be a shame if something happened to you. He doesn’t think anything beyond that for some time, for his own mental well being.

Your relationship starts off with no romantic intentions. Levi spots you training on your own one day, even after a grueling day of menial work that comes with being a member of the Survey Corps. He’s captivated, unable to look away from your form. It’s sloppy, he thinks, but not hopeless. You’re not hopeless. It doesn’t sound like a high compliment, but coming from him, it’s meaningful.

It’s startling when he approaches you for the first time. He’s pointing out the numerous errors in your stance and what to do to correct them, never mincing his words. Levi’s standing there, arms crossed, willing you to continue with his input. While being under the scrutiny of humanity’s strongest soldier is anxiety inducing, his advice works perfectly. He doesn’t comment further than that, turning on his heels and leaving you to your thoughts and confusion.

Keeping your body in the best possible condition is vital to staying alive. His advice, though delivered in sharp as knives critiques, serves you well. Even just the bare minimum has your technique rapidly improving. This motivation to keep growing and learning is what drives you. Levi continues to watch from a safe distance as you spend hours doing different exercises, developing your abilities. From this point on it becomes something of a tradition, as much as he tries not to think of it that way. There’s a level of subconscious attachment that comes with looking forward to seeing you improve every evening. He’s acknowledged you. 

You start training together. It’s not everyday an opportunity to learn under Levi is offered, so when the hand was extended to you, you accepted it. He’s a tough yet fair teacher, offering praise only when he believes it’s deserved. Unfortunately, he can’t devote that much time to your little evenings due to his other obligations. That makes the time you shared all the more special. Despite himself, he’s looking out for you, and you him. A solid relationship begins to form.

Levi isn’t the easiest person to be around. He’s surprisingly talkative if you get him speaking on subjects that interest him, but his language remains coarse. Once you get used to this side of him, it’s for the better, hours flying by and the night sky appearing before you know it. Unlike others that tend to get offended or avoid alone time with Levi due to his reputation, you remain constant. He never brings it up, though he does wonder why you’re hellbent on seeking him out.

There are still times where Levi holds an internal battle over the unfolding events. He’s starting to like spending time with you, more than just offering wisdom on various subjects he’s knowledge about. He genuinely enjoys listening when you speak, an honor exclusive to you. Through the snark and monotonous comments, there’s clear attachment. 

It gets to the point that his closer comrades even pick up on the unusual behavior, this level of respect typically reserved for no one other than Commander Erwin. Though Hanji is the only one to point this behavior out. Everyone else is too frightened at the prospect of teasing Levi over his not so subtle fondness for you. He really didn’t think he was being so obvious... 

You’re on his mind more than he cares to admits. His mind wonders to you at night, when he’s in town, or even when he sees something silly that reminds him of you. Eventually, Levi’s thoughts almost always connect to you to some degree. He’ll spot something in the windows of a shop and recall how you mentioned wanting something similar, or subconsciously look for your favorite food when walking through market stalls. The thought of giving you gifts is off putting for a while since it’s a clear sign of of tenderness. And dammit, he’s trying so hard not to become attached -- but who is he kidding -- it’s far too late for that.

What Levi is good at is making swift decisions in the heat of the moment, and combat. So he has literally no idea how to approach his developing feelings for you. There are a lot of impulses, such as complimenting you, but it comes out more like an insult than anything. God bless your soul, because you’re going to be putting up with lots of uncomfortable interactions. He’s trying, okay, but he doesn’t know the first thing about romance. 

How he best shows his care for you is helping around in various ways. It isn’t as embarrassing as having to offer compliments, or the other traditional ways of romancing the person you’re interested in. Levi commits to making your life easier in anyway he can. These things range from making sure your horse is in top condition, setting aside rations if he knows you’re too busy to get them yourself, and checking over your equipment personally. He presents all this by saying “You’re prone to making mistakes, so let me do it instead.” In reality he just wants to make life easier for you, don’t be fooled by the prickly comment. 

He isn’t blind to the other elements of his attraction to you. You’re always glowing, an angel incarnate, beauty enough to draw in practically anyone with eyes. It was enough to draw him in after all. The first attempts at physical affection are subtle, yet heartfelt. Sitting closer to you, thighs almost touching. Leaning in closer whenever you speak. Lightly brushing his fingers against his face, claiming he saw a spec of dirt on it. All these things to gauge your reaction and build up his own confidence in pursuing you further.

The first time you kiss would be the night before an expedition. It’s always the most gut wrenching experience, anxiety ailing you so badly that sleep refuses to come. The stars are out, not a cloud in the sky. Levi comes to sit by you, chastising you for not being asleep, and offering no rebuttal when you point out that he’s also awake. It’s a serene moment, neither of you exchanging words for some time, finding comfort in each others presence. You don’t even realize how close he is to you. He speaks, the words insignificant, you’ve already long forgot what they were. 

When your head turns to offer him your full attention, that’s when he leans in. A chaste kiss is pressed against your parted lips. It’s shocking to say the least, adrenaline pumping through your veins at the intimate moment. His lips are softer than you expected. He treats you with unprecedented delicacy, moving back to assess your expression through lidded eyes. When you’re willing to reciprocate he’s more than happy to let you have your way. 

Levi isn’t the best with expressing himself fully through words. His actions more than compensate for this, you’ll never doubt his dedication to you. There’s no need for flowery prose, not when he has proven the lengths he’d go through to keep you safe, bearing all of himself to you. Your relationship isn’t defined by strict terminology, as he admitted to finding stuff like that “a waste of breath”. You both wordlessly acknowledge one another as partners. Any keen onlooker might be able to pick up on this, you don’t hide or put your relationship on display.

It’ll take some time for him to grow more amiable to physically expressing himself. He’s aware of his own strength and intimidating disposition, and doesn’t want to mess what’s possibly the best thing in his life up. So you’ll need to lead in most of those areas. All physical affection is reserved for private moments. Aside from maybe him whispering a sly remark or two in passing. 

The affection he likes receiving from you the most would be: Complimenting his actions, when you lay your head on his shoulder, whenever you do little things to help him out without him mentioning it, and when you hug him. He’s never experienced being held by another human being. So when you do it for the first time, he’s taken aback by how pleasant it is. Your comforting scent, how your warmth envelopes him, and how he can feel your heart beating. It’s one of his favorite things in the world, other than you of course.

The type of affection that he gives you the most would be: Acknowledging your growth in different areas (especially if he knows you’re insecure in one of them), putting his hand over yours, reminding you to take care of yourself, and kissing you on the forehead. Levi is a very proactive lover. He’s got a keen eye, picking up on things about yourself before you even notice them. While he might not always have the most tact, everything he does for you comes from a wholesome place.

Levi remains serious in the public eye. But when it’s just the two of you, or the company is people he’s close with, he loosens up considerably. Most of his jokes go over your head, since he always delivers them with such a deadpan. When he gets you to laugh with his dry wit though, by god does it feel good, he could listen to your laughter forever. It might even make his face heat up. 

You’re capable of making him smile more than anyone else! Though it’s still rare, that just means that when he does, you treasure it all the more. He smiles the most when you lose yourself in conversation. Rambling about your dreams, stories from your childhood, frustrating encounters that you had that day... all of it warms his heart in a way he never thought possible. You’re an addicting ray of sunshine, that he’s hellbent on protecting. 

Levi knows, now more than ever, what he wants from the future. Alongside protecting and expanding humanity’s territory, it’s you that he wants by him, and no cost is too great to achieve it. He won’t lose you -- he’s already lost so much -- so expect him to be protective. There may be limits to what he can do, but they’re all arbitrary to him. Rules and morality mean nothing in the face of ensuring your safety, and he’s vowed this to you. That one day, you’ll have a secure future, forever tied to each other. He might not mention the last part as it’s embarrassing, but the general sentiment is understood. 

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

Romanced Companions react to dreaming sole’s death

(Got a little carried away with my sexy synth men also..slight tw for gore/death)

Cait:

Dreams always sucked for Cait. Wether they were products of her hazed psycho-jet fueled delusions or just merely her sober mind, they never were good. Instead of dreaming of flying or stuff like that..she dreamed fucked up stuff.

For instance, without so much as an explanation she saw you..you who loved so much, lifeless.

Though she was subjected to such a disturbing dream, she woke peacefully from it. Well..peacefully meaning she didn't scream as the dream faded away. She wanted to. Oh god she wanted to scream, but she was still consciously aware of your sleeping body. So, relying on her faithful cure- she'd reach over to the night stand and take a swing of whatever drink she had before promptly grasping you in her muscular arms for the rest of the night.

Curie:

She tried so hard. She tried so very, damn hard. You had stumbled into your shared home, beaten to a pulp and unable to breath without gasping and wheezing. Instantly she'd jump to her feet, taking you to her makeshift clinic room, feverishly quick to inject you with as many chems she could to stop your pain...all for naught.

With a pained smile on your face, you left her. Your eyes sliding closed just as she screamed.

Suddenly she was ripped from what she thought was reality, being met with you, but instead of being broken and dead..you were just asleep.

She whimpered softly, nuzzling into your arms as she tried to forget all about the horror she just endured. Damn, she didn’t like this whole dreaming thing very much.

Danse:

Night terrors were a usual for Danse. It was just an unfortunate side effect of his ptsd, one he learned to cope with over time. His waking life wasn't much different after all, it was normal for him to watch people he was close to fall at his feet, usually because of a command he ordered. However things seemed to change when he grew close to you. Terrible nightmares seemed to slowly transform into sweet dreams of the life you and him created together, even once dreaming of a little child in his arms with you by his side.

Unfortunately tonight was very much so different.

It was a great fire fight, similar to the one he met you in. However instead of you crusading in guns blazing, the tables turned rapidly, effectively giving him some sort of whiplash. The next thing he knew, he had black robes on, similar to that of the courser you had slain months ago.

Pure terror arose when realization hit.

There you were, on your knees in front of him. Those loving eyes filled with fear and your nose obviously broken, blood streaming down your lips and dripping off your chin.

"M7-97, your orders stand." An unfamiliar voice spoke to him seemingly from nowhere.

Without any hesitation, he lifted the strange white gun in his hands, aiming right at your chest. Only stopping long enough to hear your breathless plea, before pulling the trigger.

With a sharp gasp he woke up, uncontrollably being thrust into a pathetic fit of sobs. Without meaning to, he actually woke you up, still unable to contain himself even as you brought him into your embrace. He'd only muster the strength to grab onto your arms, holding onto you for dear life as he cried out, blubbering out an explanation.

It was unlike him and a piece of him felt so very ashamed.

Deacon:

He was motionless. Just as he had seen your hazy, bleeding body in the confines of the hellish nightmare that woke him from an other wise restful sleep. Your presence, living that is, beside him had never felt so wonderful- and that truly was something considering how much he enjoyed your embrace. Being able to watch your chest rise and fall with each sleepy deep breath brought him down from the high of his fear, allowing him to focus on the rhythm- which slowly but surely brought him back the ability to rest.

Gage:

He’s a raider. He’s been one since a young age. Death, macabre visions and gore in general never bothered him the slightest, hell, he even started to enjoy it. At least he thought he did...that is until the lingering sight of your own demise came to him in a far too vivid dream.

Snapping his eye open, he’d instantly check the side of the bed next to him where he knew your motionless form still lain. It wasn’t like him to feel such dread. Seeing as you were still asleep, he felt no shame in acting upon his sudden instinct to squeeze you in a desperate embrace- burying his face into your chest and holding on until finally a much better, dreamless sleep took ahold of him.

Hancock:

Now was a good of a time as any to take a nice relaxing puff of jet.

His mind never really was restful, even without the influence of chems it always seemed to go places he despised. This couldn’t have been anymore true as it for some reason conjured the sickening picture of you in his dreams- holding your bloody midsection with a wiry grin before collapsing.

Sighing, he’d try to get rid of the image, huffing quick and continuous puffs so the chem would do its “magic”. At least you were still right there next to him. That much was all he wanted.

Macready:

He already had the trauma of seeing his ex wife die once before, hearing her screams as she was torn apart by ghouls...to be met with the same scene again, only you in her place- it was good enough to wake him up with a furious yell coming out of his lungs. Effectively waking you as well....

When asked what the hell happened, he’d blink away his newly formed tears and explain what had happened. It was one of the few times he allowed himself to cry like that, so unbridled.

Maxson:

He was a frequent sufferer of night terrors, always has been since a young age. However, very few compared to the pure horror he endured as he dreamt of your demise- the dream disturbing him the most because it was him who did it. Without his own control and screaming as his hands clasped around on your throat...

It was his silent tears that saved him from enduring the sight any longer, rousing him to awareness just to where he could blearily look at your peaceful slumbering form. Some more tears would slip past his sorrowful eyes as he immediately engulfed you, pulling you close to his chest so he could savor the feeling.

If you were to wake up during this, he'd just mutter some bullshit about being cold, sniffling as he did.

Nick:

It was horrific.

Every now and again when he'd allow himself sleep, he'd be haunted with the reoccurring vision of his pre-war conscious seeing the dead body of Jennifer Lands, his fiancée. The dream used to disturb him, a strange clenching in his chest but never had it truly made him feel horror.

That is until one night, you in his arms, he had the same dream. Only this time instead of Jennifer's bloodied face laying on the asphalt, it was you. His present love, the one he felt true love for. Everything was the same, the same clothes, same thugs standing above your lifeless form- only it was your beautiful face.

When he woke, he awakened with a hallow like sensation in his mechanical chest. Why would he ever dream something like that? How did he dream that?

Regardless of whatever conclusion he'd come to, he'd sigh and stroke your hair with a shaky hand- vowing to you in silence that he'd never allow such a gruesome fate befall you. He just wouldn't.

Old Longfellow:

Damn he hated dreams. His ex-wife never seemed to leave him in peace, haunting him in some new disturbing way every other night or so. However not even her ghostly sick smile could compare to the visage of your demise.

When had he been so disturbed he didn't quite know.

Regardless he'd wake silently, his ocean colored eyes scanning the room and only softening when he deemed it safe from troubles. With a shake of his head he'd lay back down onto the pillows, looking over to your peaceful expression and then deciding it was okay...you were still here...everything was going to be okay.

Piper:

She'd wake both you and herself as she shrieked in her sleep, effectively scaring the crap out of you as you clambered to a sitting position. Still rattled from her vision..she, she saw you..she saw you get shot..fuck. She'd breath heavy, her chest heaving with each sharp inhale.

After a while she'd calm, hugging you oh so close. It would be a while before she could go back to sleep, but so long as you were in her arms she'd feel a little better.

Preston:

He'd actually end up waking you up before himself, thrashing around and grunting as his face scrunched into a pained expression. He regularly had nightmares, usually based upon the massacre of Quincy. This one was different.

Shaking him awake you'd be met with tear filled chocolate eyes, his lip quivering the moment he processed who he was looking at. Within seconds he took you down into his chest, squeezing you tight and silently crying.

You would just have to do your best to comfort him.

Sturges:

It wasn't very common he'd even remember his dreams, and even when he did they were hardly ever coherent thoughts. Normally they'd just be random "blips" of color or scenes that made little to no sense. How he wished that his normal dreams would've been the case tonight.

Still, staying true to himself, he only had a few flashes of scenes- but what he could piece together was awful. One moment you stood with that kind smile of your's, two glasses of mutfuit juice in your hands- one already extended out to him. The next thing he knew, deafening whizzes of bullets rang through and you no longer where standing...instead you were face down....and...oh god.

His eyes snapped open, his heart pounding in his ears as tried to come down from the sick rush the nightmare gave him. He wasn't one to lose his lunch, but now he really felt like puking. As he came to and began to calm, he willed himself to look over at you, rolling onto his side so he could properly see you.

"Oh..sweetheart..." he whispered, not loud enough to wake you up. Sighing he'd lay down again, resting his head on your chest as he stroked your hair- that might've woke you up but..eh, oh well.

X6-88:

Death was quite literally in his job description. He'd seen copious amounts of people die. Be it explosions, torture, or even his own bullet shot between their eyes. It never bothered him a bit, at least not enough to make him care much less feel sorrow for the poor sons of bitches.

That is..until he dreamed of your death.

It was so painfully vivid. The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline coursing through his synthetic veins as he ran. His target right in front of him, ready for his execution. With a systematic like approach, he raised his laser pistol, aiming right at the back of the head before pulling the trigger.

But...when the "target" fell, bile quickly rushed up from his stomach. There you were, those eyes he loved so much lacking any light and gazing emptily up at the sky, a burned hole through your forehead.

Just like that he was released, shooting up with enough force to send the ragged blankets down his body. Wide silver eyes darting around the room as he processed the unfamiliar sensation of pure terror racking his body. Whenever he looked at you..your sweet face so calm and...thankfully..unharmed, he could relax. Steadying himself he'd sigh, laying back down restlessly, staying up the rest of the night so he could just take you in. If that dream ever became a reality......

Well, he prayed it didn't.

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 5

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Content warnings: None

Morgan awoke to the sound of humming. He stretched, groaning as his muscles protested. Evidently his choice of sleeping positions had not been ideal, but he'd been too tired to care when he'd settled in. The humming stopped, and Deckard Cain turned to him from where he had been tending a pot over a small fire nearby.

"Would you believe," he said, "that none of the Sisterhood would give me your name, friend? Such a strange thing."

He would believe it. He'd learned long ago that it was generally not worth the trouble to correct people once they'd decided what they wanted to call him. The strange thing here was how little Cain seemed to be troubled by his presence. He would enjoy it while it lasted.

"It's Morgan."

"Well, Morgan, we have much to discuss. But before we get started, let us eat. You must be famished after yesterday's events." He held out a bowl of steaming soup, which Morgan accepted gratefully. It was hot and filling, exactly what he hadn't realized he needed. He'd gotten cold overnight.

Morgan briefly summarized the request that had brought him here: to disturb the progress of the unidentified manifestation of darkness taking root in these lands. Cain filled in quite a lot of details while Morgan mainly listened, asking occasional questions for clarification. A great and ancient evil had come to light in Tristram, leading eventually to the tragedy that had befallen the city. Although a hero had been successful in defeating that evil, it seemed he had been unfortunately corrupted by the same. He had fled eastward, but to complicate matters, another powerful demon had arisen to trouble the area.

Cain suspected this new demon to be Andariel, the Maiden of Anguish. Quite a title. He shared what he knew about her: a venomous demon queen with the power to enthrall mortals unlucky or unwise enough to look her full in the eyes. Like most major demons, her power also manifested in a sort of influence that spread out from her like a miasma. By Cain's estimation, this would be apparent through increased emotional sensitivity in those affected, to complement the physical anguish she was capable of inflicting. That would be something to look out for; emotional regulation was the foundation that gave strength and clarity to the priests of Rathma. To have it disrupted would compromise his ability to act in the best interest of the Balance. Morgan would have to be careful about that.

He was enjoying the conversation, to his surprise. Cain had a vast wealth of knowledge and seemed eager to share it. He was explaining his interpretation of a particular prophecy when Blaise stalked up to them with a sour look on her face. She glared daggers at Morgan, crossing her arms.

"Good, you're awake. Come with me, we have work to do."

"We do?" He'd expected - hoped, if he was honest with himself - that her involvement would be finished after retrieving Cain. That was as far as Kashya had demanded it, anyway. "I thought you-"

"I thought this nightmare was over too, but I just finished arguing with Akara. One of our old commanders has risen from the dead to attack us, and she blames you." She looked back toward the gates. "I told her that's not how your stuff works, but she didn't believe me." That was a surprise - he would not have guessed she might speak up in his defense. He wondered what had changed. Maybe Cain had convinced her somehow. The man was good with words, with people, in a way Morgan knew he could never hope to echo. "So if you don't come with me to put her back in the ground, you're probably going to regret it," Blaise continued with a pointed look.

Well, Morgan couldn't argue with that. He stood and stretched, taking stock of his belongings as Cain pressed Blaise with questions. She bore them with more patience than he'd expected. One of the other scouts had survived the attack, but her recovery was not going well. It sounded like she'd been poisoned. A shame they hadn't kept the arrow; he might have been able to identify the toxin. But then again, if he tried to treat her and failed, they would be even less willing to trust him. If Cain was right, it would be a moot point anyway - he thought the resurrection was Andariel's doing, meaning that the poison was likely due to her influence. He had no experience with that type of venom.

"Oh, Morgan, I almost forgot," Cain called out as they were leaving. Morgan turned to see him holding something in an upraised hand. "You had better take another scroll of town portal, in case you should need to return with haste."

"Thank you." He accepted the proffered scroll with a small bow of his head, tucking it into his belt.

"Let's get a move on already," Blaise called. She had already started walking. Morgan jogged to catch up, already apprehensive about the journey ahead. Her mood had softened around the old scholar, but it seemed Morgan would not be privy to those benefits. He hoped this situation would be resolved quickly so he could begin planning his attack on Andariel.

The battle was over in short order. The reanimated rogue captain had called out to Blaise by name, which confirmed Cain's guess about her origins - only very powerful forces could resurrect both flesh and spirit. She must have been buried inexpertly, leaving her vulnerable to those malign forces. Most funeral proceedings not led by the Order of Rathma or other experienced practitioners were more for the benefit of the living than the dead. At any rate, it served only to fuel Blaise's already considerable anger, and she'd defeated the revenant with only a moment's hesitation. Several piles of earth were evidence of Morgan's attempts to provide support. Each golem was ever so slightly faster to rise than the last, but this enemy had been agile enough to render them all but useless until she'd stumbled over a previously flat spot of ground. Not an elegant solution, but effective enough in the end. Now Blaise was examining the body, brow furrowed.

"Hey. Ghoul... uh. Morgan." That was a surprise. Cain had called him by name in front of her, but he'd assumed she wouldn't be bothered to remember it. "If you do that... ceremony. Like in Tristram. Will it... help her?"

"The final rites will lay her spirit to rest, and consecration should prevent her from rising again." He'd planned on performing them anyway, as a matter of course. At the very least, they would prevent her from being wholly resurrected again - powerful magic could overcome a properly consecrated body, but it could not pluck a spirit back once it had passed on.

Blaise seemed reluctant to ask outright, but she did step in to help when he went to move the body back to the grave it had clearly clawed out of. He opted for a more thorough consecration ritual and a shorter liturgy, both of which seemed to be well received. Blaise didn't raise any objections, at least. The interment was easier than the last ones, the ground more yielding, but a frown crept onto Morgan's face as he stood up and surveyed his work.

"What are you making that face for? Didn't it work?"

"No, that's not it. Your commander is at peace now, but there are many restless dead here. It must be Andariel making them stir like this." He could barely hear their whispers at the edge of his awareness if he concentrated. It was a little unsettling; usually he could only just sense a hint of the spirit lingering on a set of bones, nothing near this strong. He lacked the natural facility with spirits that drew some of the acolytes to his Order. At any rate, their agitation was cause for concern.

"I don't have the supplies to handle this many."

"I guess we'd better take the fight to Andariel, then. Don't look so surprised," she added, folding her arms across her chest. "The Sisterhood doesn't want there to be a... demon queen or whatever just running loose. She's killing our people. And apparently bringing them back again, and that's just fucked up. I may not like you, but you're the only person who's come through lately and survived. So we might as well work together on this."

"Yes, of course. You're right." The suggestion was wholly unexpected, but sound. Their objectives aligned, at least on the surface. If that was enough for her to tolerate working with him a little longer, he wasn't about to turn down her assistance. She was many times stronger than him. Luckily, she seemed capable of putting aside her personal feelings temporarily in order to meet a goal. It was really about as favourable a partnership as he could hope to make.

Now seemed like an opportune time to present a peace offering of some sort. But given her previous overreaction to a completely innocent comment, he didn't really want to risk giving a gift that could be taken as a token of anything he didn't intend. Perhaps... knowledge? There had been few of his brethren in the Order who'd had trouble with the portal scrolls, but their difficulties had always been resolved with a little coaching. It seemed like it would be worth trying.

He plucked the scroll from Cain out of its spot on his belt and held it out to her. She eyed it suspiciously. "Here. These are useful. You should try it again."

"It isn't that far to go back, you know," she said, not making a move to take the rolled parchment.

"The object is to see if you can use it. Not to actually travel. You might need one in the future."

She snatched the scroll from his hands and unrolled it with a snap of her wrist. "I can't even read what it says," she grumbled.

"Neither can I," he said. She looked up from the parchment with a perplexed frown. "It's not words, it's more like a spell," he explained. The look on her face told him she was going to need more than that. "You just have to believe it's going to work. Try telling it that it's going to open a portal for you."

"You didn't have to tell it anything when you did it yesterday."

"I already know how it's going to work. I just have to... acknowledge that I expect it to let me travel somewhere, and think about where." It was much easier to do than to explain. "Just try," he urged. "You don't have to say it out loud," he added, in case that helped.

She looked back down at the scroll. Her lips moved a little, and shortly a small circle appeared in the air in front of her. Her eyebrows rose in surprise.

"See, it works for you. Now try to think about a specific place," Morgan advised. Slowly an image came into focus within the circle. It looked like the inside of a building. There were rows of beds lined up, presumably the barracks of the Sisterhood. Blaise looked cautiously pleased as the portal opened up fully now that it had a destination.

"I guess it's not so hard to use magic, is it?" she said with a smile. It was strange for a moment, having that smile aimed at him.

"Not this kind," Morgan agreed. There were many different types of magic and some of them were quite difficult to use even for experienced mages, but he suspected this would not be the time to get into a discussion on the topic.

"How do I close it?"

"It will close on its own when you come back through it, or if the spell is disrupted. Yesterday I tore the parchment to close it."

"Huh. Thanks."

Morgan nodded an acknowledgement and turned to go. The walk back would give him a chance to think about how to best approach the situation. Andariel was probably lurking within the nearby cathedral, if the patterns of undead were to be trusted. Demons often liked to pervert religious spaces, and major demons tended to draw flocks of lesser evils around them.

"Aren't you coming?" He turned back to see Blaise standing by the portal, hands on her hips.

"I'm walking. It isn't that far to go back," he parroted.

"This is easier, though. And faster."

"That looks like your sleeping quarters," he pointed out. "I doubt I would be welcome."

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Good point. I'll see you back outside the encampment, then." She turned and paused for a moment, then strode confidently through the portal. Morgan waited until it had flickered closed behind her before taking his leave. He would have preferred to be able to put more of the spirits to rest, but that could be seen to after Andariel had been defeated. There would be little point in wasting his energy on a task that was likely to be undone. He stopped at the cemetery gate and knelt, touching a hand to the soil. A thin line rose up, curling around itself in a simple sign. It marked the area as requiring the attention of a priest of Rathma. This way, if he was to fall in battle, the next of his Order to come along would be able to soothe the unquiet dead.

He raised another golem and started walking. With this new partnership, there could be a reasonably good chance of defeating Andariel. He wondered what state the cathedral would be in, and how many skeletons he might hope to find lying beneath its floors. He hoped there would be some stained glass still intact. Not for any strategic purpose, just because he liked it. It was his personal opinion, not endorsed by the priesthood, that artisans who spent their efforts on creating beautiful things were doing work for the Light. Of course beauty and skill did not appear in the list of attributes that added up to make the weight of a person's goodness or lack thereof, and it was really just idle musing on his part. Still, he appreciated beauty where he found it.

[fullmetalscullyy]

!! Could I have that “where’s the medic” prompt with riza and one of the kid characters? 🥺👉👈

hi anon!! i am so sorry that this took me so long to write!! i hope you enjoy it 🥺 and thank you for sending in the prompt <33

rated: t | words: 1896 | tags: parental riza, angst with a happy ending, gunshot wound, blood and injury, guilt

read on ao3

He shouldn’t have even been there. Riza had her reservations about allowing Alphonse to join the mission, however he was an adult and could make his own decisions. She chalked it up to her slight overprotectiveness towards him, after all he’d been through in life already. He could have easily hung back and remained on the side-lines, however Al insisted.

Her concerns were voiced, and the team readily listened and accepted them. They trusted her authority on security details. Riza was only concerned for Alphonse’s safety, however, she could recognise when to take a moment to pause and gauge how much of her fears may be erring on the side of being slightly irrational. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry, Riza thought as she dismissed her self-doubt.

It also didn’t stop her from being hyper aware of their surroundings at all times or on the look-out for any potential dangers. She kept quiet about her increased protective detail, shouldering the responsibility alone and taking it even more seriously when a bad feeling suddenly started to coil inside her gut halfway through the mission. Riza always trusted her gut, so when something did begin to feel off, she started walking towards Al and opened her mouth to suggest moving away from their current position.

But Riza hadn’t been quick enough.

When Riza saw Alphonse fall to the ground after a muffled pop there were no thoughts of ‘I was right’. Only pure horror. Bile accompanied that fear when she witnessed a red stain blossoming on his crisp white shirt. It spread like ink soaking into paper.

“We need a medic!” Riza yelled over her shoulder as she started to run.

People scrambled behind her and were barking orders but Riza was completely focussed on Alphonse. The world slowed and it felt as though she couldn’t get to him fast enough. The painful feeling of her knees crashing to the ground was never felt. Instead, all that was present was terror and the sickening feeling of Alphonse’s blood sliding between her fingers as she put pressure on his wound. She cradled the back of his head to protect it from hitting off the concrete beneath them repeatedly as his body jerked and heaved with choked breaths.

“Easy, Al,” Riza commanded firmly while encouraging him to lie as still as he could. Her tone was much calmer than it should have been. It sounded as if she was trying to soothe him after a small abrasion, something small and insignificant, instead of a gunshot wound. It was too relaxed compared to what was inside of her. Riza’s stomach was roiling and her mind was going into overdrive as it went through the motions of trying to stabilise Al as quickly and as best she could.

She’d been in the field and had seen her fair share of gunshot trauma. Riza was intimately familiar with the effects of those types of wounds, however it never got any easier to witness. It was exceptionally difficult when it was someone she knew. A close friend. A young man who’d gone through so much already and who was on the road to recovery. This would set him back and slow his progress. Guilt gnawed on her stomach painfully.

Riza put more pressure was put on the wound and Alphonse groaned. A whimper passed by his lips and Riza’s heart broke in two.

“Al?”

His head rolled in place and his eyes opened. They were unfocussed as he blinked slowly.

“Al, can you hear me?”

“Yes.” It was a broken whisper, almost a whine, but it was a response, nonetheless.

“Al, I’m right here, okay?”

“Lieu…” He couldn’t even finish the word.

“That’s right. It’s Hawkeye. It’s Riza.”

“It hurts,” he whimpered.

“I know, Al. I know.” Riza wasn’t sure what compelled her to reach over and brush his fringe off his forehead and place a comforting hand on his forehead, but she felt it was both warranted and needed for the two of them. “I’m so sorry.”

He groaned and his eyes closed.

“Al? Stay with me, please.” Her voice cracked as she spoke her request. She wouldn’t lose him to this. He had so much more to do and give to the world. He was one of the brightest boys she knew, and Riza refused to let that shining light go out. Not on her watch.

“Where’s the medic?” Her demand was an agitated yell this time. She was breaking down.

“Right here, sir,” a voice replied close by her ear. Riza didn’t even turn to look at them. She simply moved aside and let them in so they could administer treatment.

Riza latched onto Alphonse’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“I’m still here, Al,” she called to him as the two medics efficiently worked over him. “Right here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re in good hands. They’re going to start working on you now, then we’ll get you to the hospital, all right?” Riza never even registered that her voice cracked while she spoke. Her relocation had resulted in Riza kneeling by Al’s head, so she placed her non-bloody hand back atop his forehead. She ran her hand over his hair to try and soothe him, watching critically as the medics worked to save him.

“Riza?” He sounded so small and childlike. Nothing like the grinning young man he’d grown into.

“Yes?” Her eyes snapped down to look at his golden ones. Alphonse’s face was drawn, and he grimaced and grunted in pain, but there was a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Thank you.”

Riza blinked down at Alphonse. His face scrunched up in agony and he let out a broken groan while his eyes squeezed tightly closed. Her chest tightened.

“Rest easy, Al. I’ve got you and I’m not going to leave your side.”

*          *          *           *          *           *           *          *          *           *          *

It was three days before she got the call.

“He’s awake.”

Relief washed over Riza in a wave. She exhaled slowly. It felt like if she moved too quickly she may unravel, so Riza kept her movements slow and controlled. Those two words were the ones she wanted to hear most, and it didn’t hit her until Edward told her just how badly she’d been waiting for them. Riza’s knees shook while standing on the phone.

“And?”

“He’ll be okay.” Edward sounded optimistic. There was a sprinkle of his exhaustion in there too, but overall he sounded pleased. “The doctors expect he will make a full recovery. It will just take a little time.”

Riza’s gut clenched. More time for Alphonse to spend in recovery. More of his life put on hold. If she’d been quicker, she could have spared him of that.

“Don’t blame yourself for this,” the Colonel had stressed, as if he could read her mind. Havoc had offered the same sentiment too. But Riza would. It was because of her that Alphonse was lying in a hospital bed with a gunshot wound. She had been tasked with his protection. She should have been more vigilant, taken more precautions, taken more back up with them to better cover the area.

“He’s been asking to see you. Al was wondering if you were all right.”

Riza took a deep breath. “I can come in, if he’d like?”

“I think that would be best. He’s worried about you, Lieutenant.”

“Me?” She scoffed in disbelief, wondering how on Earth Alphonse could possibly be worried about her.

“Yes. He wants to talk to you and see for himself that you’re all right. He –” Edward paused, and she heard him swallow. Riza gripped the phone tighter and wondered what could have possibly tripped him up. “Al remembers what happened. He remembers you talking to him throughout it.”

Riza’s heart thudded inside her chest.

“Well, I’ll let him tell you the rest. He wants to.”

“Okay. I’ll be there shortly. And thank you Ed.”

“For what?”

“For telling me that. And for phoning.”

“No problem, Lieutenant.”

*          *          *           *          *           *           *          *          *           *          *

Steeling herself, Riza took a deep breath and opened the door to Alphonse’s hospital room. Edward beckoning response was friendly and didn’t sound strained, so that counted for something. Still, Riza was unsure what would await her on the other side of the door. She’d seen Al malnourished and weak before but seeing him like that again… Riza didn’t want that for Alphonse. He deserved all the good things life had to offer him. He’d fought to get his body back and deserved time to live in it and use it to its fullest.

He was sitting up in bed. As soon as Al saw her, his face lit up with a grin. He looked tired and there were dark circles under his eyes, but he still had a friendly smile for her. “Hello, Lieutenant,” Al greeted warmly.

“It’s good to see you,” Edward added.

“Hi. It’s good to see you both too,” Riza replied.

“Come in, sit,” Ed beckoned. He stood from his chair and offered it to her. “I’ll give you two some time to talk,” Edward excused himself. The door was closed quietly behind him.

“How are you doing, Alphonse?”

“Doing okay,” he replied with a smile. “Getting better already.”

Riza couldn’t help but return his grin. It was always so bright and happy. But hers quickly fell as Riza’s guilt started to niggle in her mind. “Good, I’m pleased to hear it.”

“Lieutenant?”

She glanced over at him. Riza noted the look in his eyes. It was familiar, because she’d seen it on the faces of two of her co-workers already when they told her not to blame herself for what happened.

“I knew the risks going into this mission. I accepted that and still chose to go. That was on me.”

Riza wasn’t sure if she should be bothered by the fact that so many people seemed to be able to tell what she was thinking in regard to this situation.

“But I remember it all. I remember you talking to me and helping me through it, and I wanted to thank you in person for being there for me. It meant a lot to me.”

“Of course, Al,” she replied softly. “You’re welcome.”

“It was a big help and a nice comfort. I’m glad you were there,” he added softly.

Riza nodded, unable to offer him anything further.

“Make sure you get plenty of rest, okay?” Riza reached over and patted the back of his hand gently. “And go easy on your brother if he starts to fret.”

“Starts to fret?” Alphonse chuckled and Riza couldn’t help but join in. After witnessing Edward’s stress levels while they waited for Al to wake up, Riza didn’t doubt he’d already slipped into the protective older brother role once more and was hovering over Alphonse.

“He was worried about you. We all were.”

“Sorry to have kept you wondering for a bit,” he apologised sheepishly.

Riza shook her head with a quiet laugh. “You’re awake now. That’s all that matters.”

“And I’ll be out of here before you know it,” he nodded with determination. A confident smirk played on Al’s lips. He’d already accomplished the impossible with his brother, so Riza didn’t doubt that he would be.

That was all Riza wanted for him; to be happy, healthy, and living his life to the fullest.

[myfeetkeepdancing]

Royal Blood | Tom Holland x Male!Reader

Words: 3833

Request: This idea just came to me but like, a prince Tom x prince reader where Tom’s dated the reader before but both of their parents didn’t approve and forced them to split up. Times later, Tom went to another kingdom’s party/ ball and found out that reader was forced to be with someone else. They still love each other and they ended up running away with each either for the night. Eventually their parents found out about what happen but Tom decided to stay with the reader regardless.

A/N: Changed it a slight bit. Enjoy!

The carriage slowly slumbers down the cobblestone road. Past the curtains and through the small dirty windows, you watch the shape of the keep loom on the horizon.

"Darling, I know it pains you." Feeling the touch of a tender hand rest upon your knee. "But let us do this for your nephew and uncle." Her voice was so soothing and calm. Josephine had the best intentions for you. Good of heart, and always by your side. A listening ear and independent advisor you could trust. A wife that every man should have. Except you. For times are different.

Since the invite arrived many moons ago, you felt disillusioned. Lost in thoughts and haunted by recollections of the past. Your keen mind wasn't what it used to be. Your strong will, sharp wit, and sense of justice had faded away. Hunting parties were called off. Royal banquets and meetings with the Lords and members of the Church were postponed. Public displays weren't happening as often. The people spoke about it. Your secret was known to the very few. And those who knew outside that circle didn't live long enough to tell the tale.

"It troubles me greatly. For it kept me awake so many nights." You sigh deeply, pained by the confrontation that was bound to happen. "I'm so sorry." Wiping your eyes clean. "I just can't..."

"I know you have. I have seen it, my good man." Her hand caressing up and down your spine. "But you can not be seen with him. It will complicate matters greatly." She was right. The last thing you would want in front of everyone. Even if you desired it most of all. For the greater good, you couldn't. Not tonight, at least. Not for your lands, but also not for your dynasty, and family name. Your parents already had made their mark on your lives. Now you were free of their tyranny, and you certainly don't want to give them another chance to reprimand you. "But I think he will be very happy with what you have brought him." She nudged you in your side, her kind smile radiating on you. "He will be so happy. I know he will." Helping you fit the last bits of armor on.

"What if-..." Her lips cut off your words. "I…" You stammer indifferent and unsure, you gaze falling to the floor, feeling a sense of defeat and sadness wash over you.

"Look at me." Turning your head with her soft fingers on your cheek. "If the time is right, my darling. The time is right. I don't blame you."

"You do know he is…"

"I know." She nodded with a reassuring smile. "As much I hate losing you, I want you to be happy."

"Thank you." You whisper to her, unable to keep your smile hidden by the simple thought of it even happening tonight. "Thank you…" Josephine helps further with suiting up. Tightening the last belts and running a cloth over your plating. Pulling yourself together as the carriage rolled across the bridge. Through the gate into the inner courtyard. The high walls of the keep surrounding the inner courtyard were lined with sentries. Every meter or so, a man stood readily. Sword and shield in hand. Archers atop the towers. You admired such grand armies. You would rather inspect those, then attend this dreadful party.

You force out your kindest smile, before stepping out the carriage. Shaking hands with the greeting party. A small army of housekeepers takes care of your luggage. Crates and chest full of gifts and clothing to spend the night. In the worst-case scenario, these parties tend to last a week. Shaking that horrible vision from your thought, you turn towards the Guard Captain. An old instructor from back in the days of your training. Before turning into the keep and avoiding unnecessary small talk with nobles and the like. You manage to get a short tour of the armory. But not for too long. Well aware that Josephine was waiting for you. With your following and personal Guard unloading the carriages. You catch up with your wife and link arms. She gives you a reassuring smile and a kiss. Before you tread into Lion's den. Literally and figuratively.

The pillars of the Grand Hall reach high into the sky. A marvelous feat of engineering. Its features came close to that of a cathedral. Pillars cut of the best marble originating from all across the Kingdom. And large granite slabs of stones. Enormous is the size and shining clearly. Through the large doors, you are greeted by a large mosaic round window above the King's seat. Now moved several places down. It now stood proudly at the head of the table. The sun illuminating those chairs in specific.

The voices of high standing officials and members of large families echoes throughout the hall. Accompanied by Josephine, you shake hands with many. Most of them familiar to you. Once upon a long ago, you probably had business with them. Either through the Merchants Guild or the Army. Although your age, you established a vast network of people in various places. You were renowned in many regions. Valued and praised. Your family name sure playing a part in that. In the back of your mind, the thought that he would be here made you slightly anxious. You were warm to the touch. Heart fluttering. Nervous.

Conversations with your uncle went without trouble. You were in high regard to him. In turn, making him a scapegoat for your parents. He knew. But wasn't moved by it. Everyone had their secrets. And he didn't bother. He knew very well how to handle your parents and their disdain. Your presents were well received. Receiving grand applause and much praise. Your nephew pleased with your presence. Strengthening your bond with him and their house.

But you wish you weren't here. Just stay in your own hold, with your own private banquet. But your advisors had pressed you. The wisest of them all, your wife. These moments were vital for your future alliances. And you couldn't put that at risk. Certainly not when the older generation was running at their end. The new generation was preparing itself.

The feast was truly something. All the wine and mead one could think of. The tastiest and most luxurious animals were prepared in honor. Brought in from all across the land. The most exquisite fruits and vegetables were served. And many more. One to write tales bout. A feast for the books. The seating of the night was in your favor. Josephine beside you and a fellow army commander sat beside you. Your parents luckily far away from you. Out of their reach. But not from their long talons. The later the evening, the more careful you had to be with your words. Their following was also present. They kept their distance up until now. But they closed in on you, bit by bit. A most unpleasurable way of keeping an eye on you.

There he was. Like fate had made it so. The crowd had dispersed a little as the evening progressed. He at first didn't notice. You stared at him. You couldn't help it. You try to blink the welling tears away. Heart racing in your chest. The air stocked in your throat. For many years, you hadn't seen him. You couldn't. Forced apart. Yet there he was. He was everything you remembered, and more. His hair combed gracefully. Broad shoulders, and muscular arms. It required little imagination to know what was underneath that plate mail. A dreamy sigh escapes your lips. Trying to compose yourself. But even drinking one of the best wines, couldn't quench your thirst. That moment of eye contact. His smile. His eyes. Burning deep into your soul. You raise your glasses to each other. Noticing the beautiful woman linked in his arm. You heard the rumors. Tom was also forced to marry a woman of nobility. A wealthy and influential family. Turning the game into one with incredibly high stakes. You have trouble to avert your eyes back to your own conversation. The thought that this could be the last time was heartbreaking. In all, you were conflicted by emotions and flooded by doubt. You swear you could melt the plate mail right of your body. You were boiling. Overwhelmed. What were you to do?

But they were watching. From every corner. You feel their eyes burning in the back of your head.

Josephine had witnessed the whole ordeal. It was quick, and nothing out of the ordinary. But too many eyes were on you. "Stay focused, my love." She whispered to you. "Stay strong."

The evening went on and on. Late into the night. You had passed on the wine after a few. You needed to stay sharp of mind. But the mood was right. The eyes had diverted after a good while. Music was played, and jesters were performing. A true spectacle to behold.

"M'Lord?" A follower of you grabs your attention as he leans into your ear. "An urgent matter needs your attention immediately." Excusing yourself, you slip from your entourage. Your personal guards awaiting you outside the Grand Hall, ready to escort you. All in full plate, a sight to behold. "This way." The commanding officers said with an icy tone. Leading you down the corridors of the castle. Its many passages sprawling with activity. Ascending a flight of stairs up, you end up in a more quiet place. Only the sound of rattling steel armor against the cobblestone. Marching behind you. The thought crossed your mind that Josephine was nowhere to be seen. For all you know, something terrible might have happened. Your expression grew grave at the thought of what kind of trouble the incompetent fools had managed to afflict during your time of absence.

The servant leads you further down the hall, around another corner. Halting at a particular door. Bowing deeply before you, as he opened the door. You march in, hand on the pommel of your sword. Trying to maintain your dominant and powerful posture as well as a calm attitude. As your mind was occupied by various situations.

But except for the furniture, there was no one there. Apart from the small dancing flames on top of the candles. The room was filled with emptiness and silence. Your eyes scour from left to right through the room. Your brown knitting together in an aggravated look. Until your eyes spot the rose. In the middle of the room stood a royal bed, big curtains hanging from either side. And in the center lay one red rose. "What kind of joke is this…?" You mutter with a hint of masculinity in your voice. You halt your pace as you hear the door fall shut behind you. But before you turn around, you're frozen to the spot, as a pair of hands close around your shoulders. "Time has aged you incredibly well." Whispered into your left ear. You recognize that voice out of a thousand. A voice that sends shivers down your spine. Make you all warm and fuzzy on the inside. So silky smooth and tender. His breath tickling your skin. You can't help but release a shuddering breath. Smiling as you feel his body move closer.

"T-Thomas..." You sputter. Biting down on your lower lip, stifling your smile.

"Not so formal, my love." He chuckled softly while drawing his body flush against yours. The cold steel of his breastplate obstructing you from any form of physical touch. Only his soft fingers grace on your skin.

"Tom…" You let out a soft moan, closing your eyes for a moment. The edges of your lips curving into a smile. "You know..." No more words come from your lips. As his warm lips connect with the side of your neck. Sucking on the skin as his fingers reached underneath your armor plating. You can't help but shudder at his touch. "If they find out-..." You groan heavily. Paralyzed by his heavenly caressing lips. Slow and passionate. Like a long lost kiss, finally finding its beloved skin.

"...-It's going to be war." His voice was soft and caring. "Yes, I do know." He was aware of the complications. The slightest suspicion could bring bad tidings for you and his house. Not to speak of the Kingdom. But he seemed unmoved by the thought. And frankly, you began to care less and less. His hands slowly trace down your back, while carefully leaving marks in the crook of your neck. You can't help but whimper under his touch. His fingers found the buckles, relieving you from your cuirass.

"Before or after…?" Hinting at the sexual tension between the two of you, while turning to face him. A loving smile greeting you. Kind and inviting. Full of adoration and love. His hands immediately cup your cheeks. A reunion long-awaited. Longed for. Tears of joy well in your eyes as you take in his features. But only for a brief moment, as he tilts his head, his lips connecting with yours. "But I think you've already made your choice." Slowly lowering your cuirass to the floor.

"I know you like that armor, but to me…" Caressing your cheek with his thumb. "...-you've always looked better without."

"The same goes for you." Pressing your lips on his cheek and work your way to his side, unlocking all the hinges and straps that kept the breastplate together around his torso. "But my imagination can only go so far." You tease him as you undo him of his armor. Underneath the ornately decorated plate, hang a tunic wrapped around its frame. Beautiful of color and with a certain style rarely seen. How he does it, you don't know. But it makes you smile, the moment your nostrils catch a whiff of his perfume. It takes a few secure straps to free him entirely of his armor.

"It's been so long." He beamed, looking at you with heart eyes. Pulling at the cord of your gambeson. You follow his lead and reveal his muscular body, broad shoulders, and well-rounded pecs.

 "How are the arr-...." Your question of worry and mind occupied by doubt, are silenced by his lips. This time pulling you flush against his warm, welcoming frame. His warm breath fanning down your body. All the hills and valleys of his muscles massaging you.

"It's taken care of, sweetheart." He smiled proudly. Leading you to the bed. Step by step. In the arms of the man you love. "Tonight is the night." You both can't help but smile out of happiness. "I told them… We.. needed to take care of something first." Discarding the last bit of linen from the both of you. Toppling you onto the large bed. No struggle. Only passion and lust. As Tom spreads his legs for you. Inviting your rod into his warm tight hole. And as the party downstairs went on. You made love to the man you've always desired. Pushing into him with the intensity of a lion. Tom's heavy groans sounded continuously throughout the quarter as you pound him. In the harmony of the sound of slapping flesh and pleasured moans. Together you had made plans to run away. A Safe haven. Somewhere far away. Distant and unknown. Just for the two of you. And tonight was the night.

Through a narrow passageway, you follow after Tom. Dressed in full armor again, the metal clinging and swaying side to side. Not very quietly. Your heart skips a beat for moment when you emerge in one of the hallways again. Either side guarded by heavy armored brutes. The very few light sources gave them a grim and terrifying sight. But with a flick of his finger. "Men." Tom commanded. And from darkness grew a small force together. There voices hushed and low. "Here, let's be extra cautious." Handing you pitch-black cloak with hood. "Your men are waiting in the courtyard." He assured you while gesturing to follow the escort through the dim castle hallways. You were slow and hesitant. This was it. But Tom helped you snap out of it. His fingers interlaced with yours, and together you walked down the corridors. This late in the evening, it was bound not to go unnoticed. The metal boots striking against the cold stone floors were unnerving at most. Your thoughts drifted to Josephine for a moment. She would understand.

Everything went fast. Your personal entourage waited outside in the shadows. A small cart packed with the necessary things you needed for the journey. The rest left behind. A new begin. It was exciting, yet slightly frightening.

A distant scream followed by a horn being blown. Chaos ensued. In the darkness you couldn't understand who was who. Which Guard belonged to whom. "That cart has to go with!" You order into the darkness. Left and right people run about. Bumping into each other. But the nonetheless, your orders where obeyed, the cart was towed with haste towards the gate. But in the corner of your eyes you spot guards running up the gatehouse. "Close the gate!" A familiar voice screamed from the top of their lungs. "Stop them whatever is necessary." Tom yanked on your arm, as you hear the metal chains and mechanism rolling into motion. Momentarily your numbed by rage of the persons standing here. On the balcony overlooking the courtyard. "You've forsaken us!" The voices echoed over the yard. Their shirl voices carrying far and wide. "Defiled our name!"

"We have to go!" Tom screamed, pulling you from your frozen spot again. Your parents stood there. Yelling and waving their arms around. Commanding unseen guards.

 "This is all your doing!" The word spat from your mouth. Jabbing a finger at them. Your blood boiled from anger and rage. Adrenaline racing through your system, shaking your every limb. "You did this! All of this! You drove us apart! Forced us…! Like cattle!" Tom's hand catches your shoulder, trying to turn you away from the confrontation. "And now you get what you want." Screaming from the top of your lungs. "Don't think of-..."

But the sudden bolt that dug itself deep into the dirt in front of you waked you from your frenzied speech. Taking a few steps back, slowly into the arms of Tom. The realizations hit you that they were actually trying to kill you. You turn on your heel and run after Tom. The gate wasn't far now. It's large cast-iron fence slowly lumbering towards the floor. Screams and commands were given all around. To your surprise, in the chaos a guard stops right in front of you. It's difficult to make out faces exactly. But he wasn't intent on letting you pass as his longsword was unsheathed.

"In the order of-..."The man ordered with a deep voice. But the light in his eyes dimmed as his words were cut short by a blade. The man stumbled to one knee, his hands clamped to his throat. You see Tom sheath his sword again. "Move!" He yelled while pulling you along. And as you ran by, the sound of blood gurgling from the man's throat faded away with a heavy thud. Sprinting the last meters as the gate was halfway closed. Ducking underneath it, you both discard the cloaks. Both sharing a look of relief and happiness. Panting as you try to regain your breath. In the distance, you see small lights cast outwards through the castle windows. Increasing in number one by one. The inhabitants and their guards slowly waking from the commotions.

"That wasn't as planned." Holding you by his shoulder. "Are you alright?" Soft and caring eyes staring into yours. You force out a smile in response.

"I will be. Give me some time." In the distance you see a row of flickering lights, torches and oil lamps. It's rays of golden light illuminating your path to freedom. And as you came close, you inspect the column of carts and carriages waiting to depart. While Tom takes the final notes and plans through with the riders, you carefully put the present in the carriage. Awaiting Tom's arrival. To your relief, the gate of the castle had stayed put, and no more further noise was coming from it.

"Ready?" Tom kissing you on the cheek as you gazed mindlessly into the stary night. "A ship is waiting for us in the harbor." You nod walking along with him to the carriages. "Our adventure is finally starting." Tom beamed of happiness, putting an arm around you as you walked along the column.

Seated from within the carriage, you watch the vague contours of the castle in the distance. Small shimmering lights dying out one by one. Except for one. She probably knows by now. You can't help but sigh a little at the feeling of guilt, leaving her behind like this. "Will she be alright?" Tom leaned in, holding your shoulders as he rested his head onto it. Both looking at that shimmering light. "She seemed nice."

"She is… I just hope she finds someone better than me."

 "Won't she get in trouble because of this?"

"No, I made sure of that. But I… I just… I wish I could have thanked her properly. She meant a lot to me." And as the carriage started rolling down the muddy roads. You feel a burden fall from your shoulder. Relieved. But also slightly conflicted, leaving her behind like this.

"I will make sure you can, darling." Kissing you softly down the back of your neck. "I will."

"There is one more thing." You turn to him. "I have something for you." The box standing opposite you moved slightly on the couch as you looked on. "One way or another, you would have gotten this." Tom's eyes sparkled with excitement as he watched you holding the box. "I'm just really happy that I'm able to give you… this… in person." In your hands you bring up this adorable black puppy, it's eyes all sleepy. It wasn't much older than two months. And it looked so fluffy. Small paws and beady little eyes. It looked almost the same as Tom's Tessa. Which he unfortunately lost. Getting it here was one thing, but keeping it a secret was thrice as problematic. Tom covered his gasping mouth, as his eyes started to water. "I know what Tessa meant to you." The welling tears rolled so easily down his cheeks. As a smile curved his lips again.

"I… I can't thank you enough." As he took the small puppy into his hands. Closing it into his embrace. "You made me the happiest man in the world (Y/N)."

"I feel the same, Tom." Closing in for a hug, puppy in between. The carriage taking you away from all the trouble in the world. Towards a new world. A new beginning. A new start.

[sloppy-butcher]

here it is folks - my self-indulgent, feel-better fic. my great magnum opus. 

 this is a reader insert story that i have written involving the Hillbilly (Max Thompson Jr.). It will consist of multiple chapters and is subject to random additions and changes. The reader will be female, unfortunately, but other than that everything will be pretty ambiguous.

no one asked for this. no one wanted it. but  life is too short to not write what i want to. i hope that someone out there will read this and enjoy it. i certainly did enjoy it when i wrote it :) please be aware that there has been little to no proof reading. i literally just raw-dogged it and wrote from my horny lil heart. 

so without further ado, presenting:

Waitin’ On a Superman - 

Chapter 1 : Putting the Dog to Sleep

(The Hillbilly (Max Thompson Jr.) x female!reader)

Next

There’s a dog loose in the fields.

You can hear its arduous breathing all around, exhausting and loud like the grumbling of an approaching thunderstorm. Inevitable in its eventuality but far enough away to feel untouchable. It lies there waiting, hidden from your view beyond in the sea of yellow corn stalks, always just a turn of your head away. In the beginning, the constant state of hyper-awareness that the beast had over you nearly drove you insane. The hairs on the back of your neck never once sitting down. To know that something is hunting you, biding its time for you to only sleep so that it could finally close its teeth around your neck and feast - is a fate worse than death.  

But you were already dead, that much you knew. You were dead and this place was waking purgatory. And that dog was just chasing an empty scent trail. 

For what felt like hours you had been walking through the endless corn field. You had lost all sensation in that engulfing ocean of yellow and brown, moving as if through a thick dream. Not only did you forget yourself in the field, you also could not remember how you had ended up there. The exact details that lead to your confusion are all a blur in your head. You remember wanting to go for a private walk, help clear your head, then you remember the corn and that is all. It was the most peculiar situation, to be so completely absent in mind and in physical awareness that you did not even feel real anymore and in this translucent in between world you realized that nothing really mattered. What fear did you have for a dog when you were already dead?

In an odd way, it was refreshing to drown. The vibrate colors and smells of the plants were all a stark contrast to what you had been calling a life before. For the past few months all you knew was blood, your existence a meal for some eldritch monster and its many toys, food stuck in its grinding teeth.There were others, people like you who wore similar masks of pale panic, all of which perished and died in a horrific and cosmic game of cat and mouse. Though there was safety in numbers, a flock mentality that you found most disdainful, the lonely hours spent walking that field brought with it strange peace. The whoosh of a slow wind through the fingers of corn, the gentle rustle of a dead leaf against another, were as comfortable to you as the uneasy conversation with a fellow human. It was only when you heard the loud crunch of heavy footsteps to your left that you were reminded of the dog.

You feel your feet come to a hesitant stop and your breathing quieten to that of a whisper, your heart also slowing in an attempt to offer the outside world a better audience. The footsteps stopped with yours. You could hear the dog panting, licking its dry lips eager for the conclusion of its long hunt. It had been following you for a while by now, stalking right behind. Yet never had it attacked. Barely had it made its presence noticed. And even as it became blatantly apparent that you were aware of its closeness, it remained hidden. Waiting. Holding its breath for you to do something - speak, run away, fight or simply give in to the inescapable fate. 

You too waited for your reaction, sitting as if a spectator to your own life. Eventually you felt the stillness stretch on into an uncomfortable length and you knew that it could no longer sustain itself lest something dare break it. Something had to happen. The dog had to attack. 

“I know you are there,” Your voice spoke strong against the world, twirling with the mindless wind in a sort of soulful, last reunion. It surprised you to speak so suddenly and clearly, your words sounding without cracks or hesitations. Again it was like you were in a dream, like all that was happening was but a faint memory, its consequences a hollow threat. It would hardly be a fight, you were no match for whatever beast you had given yourself up to and you lacked the motivation to try. You just hoped it would be over soon. 

“Be quick.” You paused, nothing moved, not even the wind dared to interrupt your final request. “Please.” This was the breaking point, the chip in your otherwise impervious composure. It was a sad and desperately bitter plea, so breathless it was hardly even said. For the second time that evening, the universe held its breath.

“You ain’t meant to be here. Pigs’re meant to stay in their pen.” It was a man that spoke. Not a dog. His voice, a course and congested rumbling using words that did not sound practiced or fully-formed, grabbed at your chest and squeezed the air out leaving you helplessly gasping in shock. You felt the dream shatter around you, glass shards falling and cutting you awake with their sharpness. Where were you? What was happening? Was this all real? “It don’t like it when pigs get out. Don’t like it when Donny gets out.” 

In a spontaneous explosion, everything came back to you. You were lost, alone in this corn field with a strange man. You felt familiar fear bubble up in your stomach and threaten to make you vomit. Yet through this epiphany, you remained still, your feet planted sternly in the same spot, your eyes focused forward.

“And who is this Donny?” You cursed yourself for speaking again, cursed your stupidity for walking alone, cursed your naivety for allowing the fields to swallow you completely and cursed your entire life that led you to this exact moment in time. But, since you were already digging your grave, you did not see the sense in stopping. In this nightmare of a world, encountering strange men was not an uncommon thing and the events that occurred after such interactions were equally unexpected. But never had one spoken so openly to you before and, though the voice in all its roughness scared you, there was a noticeable absence of malice. It’s oddity being the cause for your willingness to pursue the conversation regardless of what trouble it may create.

“One of ‘em prized pigs.” The man growled then coughed and spat something into the dirt in a show of disgust. You blink your eyes and tilt your head, ignorant to the troubled temper of the person standing in the corn.

“That's not good.” Your mouth was running wild, speaking without a commander and without a thought for the repercussions. “There's a dog loose in these fields. You should find Donny before the dog does.” The man scoffed, a deep and painful sound from a throat that did not seem normal or healthy.

“Ain’t no dog here. Just... Boy.” You frowned at the way he said ‘boy’, though choose not to look the gifted horse in the mouth. You did not want the fragile politeness that sat between you and him to break by sticking your nose in places it should not be. You were already way over your head just by standing there in the corn, poking the bear would most definitely seal your doom. For now, everything was fine and you were content to maintain this for as long as possible. The man shuffled uneasily and for a moment you debated turning to face him before catching yourself and reinforcing your stern guard. 

“Best be on your way.” He commanded, sounding further away and distracted. “Out. Get out. Out. Get out.” He started rambling, repeating again and again the phrase with each utterance getting quieter and more hurried than the last. 

Out - what a fantastical idea. Was that not the very thing you had been searching for all this time? A way out of not only this godforsaken corn field, but this entire nightmare vision that dared to call itself a world. It was always fighting for you, always looking, always pushing forward. Out, he said, as if the concept was as easily obtained as it was said. 

“I- '' It scorned you to interrupt his talkings, feeling almost unnatural to impede. ”I don't know the way out. You see, I think I am lost.” He calmed down at your revelation, sputtering out like an old car struggling to get up a hill. The breeze blew and danced gently over your face, bringing with it the scent of plants and dust. There was something else in it, a musty smell familiar in a way, but your nose was not strong enough to fully define the strangeness and by the time the breeze had passed you had pushed it out of your mind.

“Boy will be here soon.” It seemed that this statement was not directed to you for he spoke it over his shoulder, head turned away. He was, however, more controlled in this response and before you could react he had started to move. You heard him begin to walk off to some place to your left, stalks of corn pushed to the side or stomped on by his heavy feet. You buckled and finally turned to look in his direction and saw only the faintest glimpse of a dark shape drifting further and further away in the yellow. You swayed in his direction, not sure whether to follow him or not.

“Come.” The man answered your unsaid question, “Boy won’t find you this way.” And in an instant you were after him, pushing through the corn with determination and desperation to keep his fast pace. Try as you might to run, the man remained only but a dark visage, always just fast enough to stay out of your line of sight. 

You chased after the shadowy figure for what felt like 10 minutes when suddenly he stopped. You slammed on the breaks, doubling over and panting from the long jog and relentless speed. In your exhaustion you did not manage to find the man for he had sunk back into his cover or plant before you could catch your breath and stand up straight again.

“There.” He said, speaking loud enough for you to hear him over your gasps. It irked you that there wasn’t so much as a wheeze when he spoke though you chalked that up to how his ordinary breathing already sounded so labored and difficult. “Boy don’t go in there. Stay till he leaves then go. Get out.” 

“T-Thank you.” You gushed to the open air as the man took off into the night. You waited in his wake for a moment, mind racing in a futile attempt to try understand what exactly had just occurred, before turning and stepping out of the field’s border. Erected in a clearing was a dingy, old, red barn, its doors open and swinging on broken hinges, its paint dull and peeling. It was a most unappealing sight that made you inwardly cringe - if your situation was not so dire you would never dare step a foot inside such a place. 

The interior was no better, the ceiling occupying a gaping hole in the middle and the walls a crumbling mess. However, in the center was a great pile of dry hay. Its aroma was alluring and within seconds you had collapsed on it. The pipes of dried grass poked you in the most uncomfortable areas, you had no idea how you were ever going to fall asleep on such a horrible and most unfavorable bed. Yet as you buried you face deeper into the straw, swimming down into the origin of warmth, dryness and the smell of earth, sleep found you in no time at all.

[aj-draws]

The Pearl - Ch. 1 of The Wandering Knight

Summary: A Tower of God Fantasy AU :)

Word Count: 3,180

Warnings: Brief mention of blood

---

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Rachel who chased the stars, and a boy she called Bam who chased after her. She was bright and ambitious, with eager hands that longed to touch the sky. He was ordinary and innocent, wanting nothing more than to be by her side. Their stories begin with her disappearance and his search for the strength to protect his cherished friends.

For Bam, a knight was nothing without his princess.

The gods are quick to show him just how wrong he is.

When he didn’t see her upon waking up, Bam knew something was wrong.

Time felt nonexistent when Rachel wasn’t there with him. Her appearance at the entrance of the cave signaled the start of a new day. Her gentle smile as she read him a story aloud meant another peaceful afternoon was passing by. Her red dress was the last thing he saw when he closed his eyes at night.

Bam was so accustomed to her companionship that Rachel’s absence left him troubled. There was a fervent pit in his stomach, but he kept rubbing his shoulders to stimulate warmth as if he were cold. Regret filled his lungs and he choked out a sob. He agonized over whether or not he could have done something more when he saw her awake in the middle of the night. When he heard her soft voice, he remembered thinking about getting up, but he was deceived by her assurance that everything was alright.

‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ she had said. He tried to recall if this was the first lie Rachel had ever told him. Bam hoped this would be the only one.

The day went by unceremoniously and, even when it was nightfall, he was too restless to sleep. He was disturbed by his ridiculous intrusive thoughts and he was suddenly hyper-aware of every nocturnal animal he could hear in the distance.

The thought of Rachel’s kind eyes crossed his mind and Bam scrambled to his feet. He retrieved an oil lamp, set it aflame, and approached the exit of the cave. Glancing over his shoulder, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should bring their belongings with him. Bam decided against this, knowing that Rachel was more important than a bunch of books, but he left with reluctance. 

Raising the lamp higher and moving forward with a bit more confidence, Bam took his first step outside that cave he had lived in for all his life.

The only problem was that he didn’t know where he was going.

Bam stumbled about through the forest blindly. Everything was starting to look the same and, little by little, he felt like the darkness was swallowing him up. While pausing to catch his breath, he shut his eyes. Rachel leaving him, or worse, the possibility of her being in danger, was something that scared him more than these eerie woods. When his eyes fluttered open, the sight of something glowing in the distance made his heart leap with joy. He rushed towards the light source and realized that it was a campfire. When Bam saw a cloaked figure sitting near the flames, he slowed down and proceeded with caution.

“Do not be afraid.” The stranger spoke, gesturing to the vacant spot beside him. “All visitors are welcome here.”

Bam blinked in disbelief, finding himself intrigued by his mysterious, but sincere impression. He seated himself next to the stranger, his gaze lingering on the hood of his cloak. His instincts told him that he wouldn’t like what was underneath it. 

“I am Headon.”

Bam’s body recoiled with surprise, a hand grasping at his mouth. No...it couldn’t be...he was supposed to be...a folk tale. 

Headon was rumored to be a magical being who seemed to know one’s deepest secrets. It was whispered that he could speak a person’s greatest desires into reality, presenting opportunities to those he deemed worthy of walking a dangerous and difficult path. Some say that he is a trickster god, and others claim that they have seen his cloak slip to reveal ears shaped like a rabbit’s. The one consistency in these stories was that Headon was cryptic and vague, an outsider whose loyalties didn’t belong to anyone but himself. He was a creature shrouded in secrecy, an enigma that no one could understand.

Yet here he was, sitting right in front of him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Bam.”

And he somehow knew his name.

Bam swallowed down the lump in his throat and managed to ask, “How do you know my name?”

Mischief radiated off the creature and it clicked. “Rachel…! Do you-”

A golden staff shot out from within Headon’s cloak, stopping right at Bam’s throat and effectively cutting him off. “You must climb a tower to get your answers.”

Bam’s gaze fixated on the orb sitting atop the staff, swirling with what can only be described as magic. He couldn’t believe his eyes, or his ears for that matter, since they were currently listening to a being that wasn’t supposed to be real.

“Monsters inhabit every floor of the tower. To get to the top, you must become strong enough to find and save this girl you cherish.” Headon advised him.

“How can I do that?” Bam leaned forward, eyes wide with anticipation. 

“Become a knight,” was his simple reply.

Bam’s heart skipped a beat as he paused to imagine himself as one of the chivalrous and noble knights in the fairy tales he read with Rachel. The idea appealed to him greatly.

“I will be able to send you to a place where you can train to become a knight. But in return, you must do something for me.”

“I’ll do anything!”

Headon pointed to a nearby river with his staff, the blue orb shining a light upon something monstrous that lurked in the shadows. “There is a beast called a White Steel Eel that protects a large pearl. If you destroy this pearl, you will surely get what you desire.”

Shock crossed Bam’s expression and Headon watched as his bulging eyes surveyed the colossal creature that prowled in the depths of the water. “If you wish to turn back, now is the time,” he began. “This may be too dangerous-”

Headon was interrupted by the boy rushing past him. The flames stirred, sparks flew and the fire crackled like it was mocking him for his carelessness. 

Bam kicked up dirt while he ran, the oil lamp in his hand. All of a sudden, his vision went dark and the vague outline of a heel was the last thing he saw before a shoe pressed against his face. His lamp tumbled to the ground and Bam fell with it, hands scratching against the dry terrain.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

Bam fumbled for his words as he cast his gaze upwards.

A woman towered over him, her voice loud and commanding. Her raven hair was tied up into a long ponytail about the same length as her tall figure. The torch she held illuminated the metal of her white armor, which had red accents the same color as her shining eyes.

“Lady Yuri, please wait for me,” begged a quieter voice. A man with silver hair and a short stature ran up to the woman and pulled out a glowing orb. 

Bam hurriedly stood up, raising his arm to shield him from the rays of light that surrounded his body. When the light faded away, the orb was hovering in front of him, thrumming with energy.

“You’re lucky that I’m helping you. People would kill for an item like that!” The woman exclaimed, placing her hands on her hips. “It’s crazy to think that someone would even try to fight a monster without a Pocket! How will you call a messenger bird for help? Are you stupid?”

Bam struggled to understand everything that was happening. He inquired, “A Pocket?”

“Our lifeline in this world. It has many functions, and calling for birds to send important messages is one of them.” The small, but patient man explained. “Pockets can also disappear and reappear at will. Look at yours and say, ‘Invisible mode’.”

Doubtful, but curious, Bam stammered out, “I-Invisible mode.”

As soon as he did, the orb vanished, causing Bam to jump in surprise. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he had met with a possible god, and now he was using magic!

“And if you say ‘Visible mode’, the Pocket will-”

“Hold on a second, Evan!” The woman put a hand on her companion’s shoulder and leaned in close to Bam. "I knew it, he must be an Irregular! He’s an outsider who grew up in a place without the laws of our lands. Therefore, he’s easy to manipulate.” She said the last word harshly, casting a glare at the cloaked figure approaching them.

“Now, now, Lady Yuri, I have done no such thing,” Headon claimed. “You may be the Great Dame, the honorable commander of knights, but you would be in a lot of trouble if the emperor knew you were consorting with Irregulars.”

“And the emperor would have your head if he knew the nonsense you’ve been telling people!” Yuri shouted, raising her fist. “You can’t solve everything with magic.”

“I present opportunities for those who will ensure the empire’s prosperity. This boy has honest intentions, I am certain of it.”

“Then why ask him to do the impossible? The eel is covered in impenetrable steel scales. He will…” Yuri trailed off. She stole a glance at Bam and quickly looked away from his innocent, bewildered stare.

“He is an Irregular.”

“But look how weak and tiny he is!” She declared, bending down to poke a gloved finger at his forehead.

Bam gave a shy laugh. He stiffened when her finger moved down to brush against his lips, her eyes examining his face intently. 

“Though...he is a little bit handsome.” Yuri grinned as she drew her hand back. “Can’t he do something easier for you?”

“It’s necessary to determine if he is worthy of a knight’s path.”

“A knight?” Yuri repeated incredulously. “I can-”

“It’s alright,” said Bam with a small smile. “I’m not sure who you are, but I appreciate you trying to help me.”

He walked past the woman and flinched when she asked, “If you don’t even recognize a Knight Commander, how could you possibly survive in this world?”

“I would rather die than give up here.”

Headon spoke, “The boy is stubborn, Lady Yuri. Perhaps you can give him some assistance by lending him the Black March?”

Yuri spun around. The appalled look on her face made Headon chuckle. 

“It won’t even ignite for me! What...What makes you think-”

“The power of that legendary sword depends on its wielder,” was Headon’s response.

Seeing her contemplative expression, Evan cried out, “The Black March belongs in the hands of a Knight Commander! That absolutely cannot change!”

Yuri huffed and grabbed the hilt of the sword, pulling it out of its sheath.

Ignoring Evan’s protests, she walked over and presented the weapon to Bam. He eyed the gleaming rapier with its intricately carved black hilt and lustrous grey blade.

“You can borrow this to kill that monster.” Yuri proclaimed, lifting her chin. “Only because of your cute face.”

“I-I can’t take this.”

Yuri’s stare was piercing, her hand steady as she grasped the sword. “You want to become a knight, don’t you?”

Bam’s jaw dropped, a memory replaying in his head of desolate darkness and a glimpse of light. Her blonde hair peeked out from beneath the rocks and she greeted him with a bright smile.

He had to become a knight, to find and protect his star. All he wanted was to see Rachel again. To do that, he needed all the help he could get.

Bam took the sword. Its hilt was cold and heavy in his hands, but it somehow felt...natural.

Evan gasped and Headon expressed his surprise from Yuri’s decision.

“What? You’re the one who told me to lend him the Black March!” Yuri threw up in her hands out of exasperation.

“I promise to give it back as soon as I break the pearl.”

“You should focus on trying not to die first.”

Bam nodded solemnly and thanked her. He faced the eel and approached the beast.

“Lady Yuri...have you, perhaps, developed a soft spot for that boy?”

She replied to Evan’s comment by punching the back of his head.

“Shut up!”

“Then why?”

“...He wants to be a knight, remember?”

“So?” 

Yuri paused, tapping a finger on her chin. She smirked and said, “I have a feeling that I would want someone like him under my command. And besides, you know I hate being bored.”

Bam noticed more of the eel’s monstrous features when the sun peered out over the horizon. Its massive body slithered through the waters, mouth agape to reveal rows of sharp fangs. He stepped into the freezing river, gritting his teeth as he pushed onwards. The eel gave a deafening screech before launching itself into the air, preparing to dive down and attack Bam. Despite knowing this, Bam continued to stare up at the monster’s jaws, unmoving.

Evan winced and Yuri darted towards Bam, only for Headon’s staff to block her way.

“He will fail if you provide any more assistance.”

“I can’t just watch him die-!” Yuri stopped abruptly, watching helplessly as the boy got eaten by the eel. 

A beat of silence passed. Her eyebrows arched and she snatched Headon’s staff. “Let me go.”

“It is the path he chose.”

“The hell with that!” She pushed aside the staff but got interrupted by Evan grabbing her arm.

“Wait, Lady Yuri! I think he’s doing the right thing!”

Yuri squinted and threw him an impatient glare.

“He can’t escape the White Steel Eel, but he can face it directly by entering its mouth.” Evan elaborated, letting go of her arm once he was sure she wasn’t going to move. “See, look!”

Yuri followed where Evan was pointing and watched Bam’s body collapse to the riverbank. Blood erupted from the eel’s mouth, staining the waters a muddy wine red. Panting, Bam picked himself off the ground. 

“One must overcome his fear of death. It isn’t as easy as it looks, which is why I didn’t tell him.” Evan admitted, feeling a twinge of guilt about not sharing this information with the boy. 

“He entered its mouth and stabbed it,” Yuri remarked, stunned by the courageousness he displayed. “How bold.” There was a hint of pride in her voice as she said this, but it was something that she wouldn’t admit.

“To fear something greater than death and to have something that let him face this fear,” Evan added on, relief coursing through him when he saw Bam raise the rapier over the pearl. “That’s extraordinary.” 

Bam let the sword drop. The tip of the rapier slammed against the pearl, but he was unable to make a dent. His eyes widened and a gasp fell from his lips.

Yuri was quick to shout, “Headon! Why won’t the pearl break?”

“The boy has to figure that out himself.”

Tugging the sword free, Bam tried to break the pearl again. Again. And again.

He shivered, realizing that the surface of the icy water was at his waist. He had to break it. Tears pricked at his eyes and his muscles were heavy. Everything hurt, but he wanted to see her again. His skin was frozen numb and the banging of his blade pounded in his ears. Please break, he begged. He needed to save Rachel.

“Break!” Bam cried desperately, his voice growing hoarse. He made one last, feeble attempt to destroy the pearl. 

It was in vain.

Bam gasped for air and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling chills run down his body. The eel emitted a thunderous roar that caused the ground to shake. Yuri and Evan’s screams sounded so far away.

“...Black March!”

Bam’s eyes shot open. His gaze focused on the sword clutched in his hands.

“Ask it to help you! To lend you its strength!” Evan ordered at the top of his lungs. “Just do it!”

The eel was closing in. Bam took a deep breath and pleaded earnestly, “Please grant me your strength!”

The rapier emitted a brilliant light that temporarily blinded him. Its warmth came as a comfort to Bam, but to the eel, its heat was enough to vaporize its scales and thrust its enormous body several feet away.

Black March appeared in front of him, basked in an ethereal glow. She was a woman with long locks of flowing golden hair, and whose feet hovered above the ground. A red sash was wrapped loosely across her chest and she wore a magenta gown, which flared out around her legs and sleeves.

“Boy,” she spoke. “I see that you have called upon my strength. You wish for the power to conquer an empire?”

“No. I would never need an empire if I could be next to her side.” Bam clasped his hands together and bowed his head. “Please! Grant me your strength, so that I may find and protect Rachel!”

Black March laughed and waved her hand dismissively. “How boring,” she stated, a smile on her cherry red lips as she hovered down to cup her hands over Bam’s cheeks. “But I can’t resist such a cute face. Alright, then. Just this once, I will lend you my strength.”

“...Huh?” Yuri muttered under her breath, a dumbfounded expression on her face. “She wouldn’t grant me her strength whenever I asked...dear god...don’t tell me-”

Black March reached in to hug the boy, lifting her head to give Yuri a mischievous smirk.

Evan mumbled. “Then the rumor was true.”

“H..How dare she!”

A bright light engulfed the pearl at Black March’s feet before it exploded, crumbling into tiny pieces. Headon banged his staff twice against the ground, using a teleportation spell on Bam and Black March.

When Bam opened his eyes, he was freefalling through the sky.

A forest came into view and he was coming closer and closer to it, without any means to stop. He heard a yell in the distance and suddenly, he began to drop down at a gentler speed. Bam floated like a feather through the trees, dodging branches until he reached a clearing. A person was standing there, looking up at him with awe. He dropped his book and stuck his arms out.

Bam was caught in mid-air, his savior’s grip tightening around his waist as his momentum came to a stop. His arms wrapped around the man’s neck in his attempt to steady himself, his fingers brushing against soft, silvery-blue hair. The man pulled his head back, the brim of his floppy hat tilting up to reveal the most dazzling sapphire eyes he’s ever seen.

The young knight wandered alone no more.

[jzixuans]

Oh tell us about Logan and Virgil in the stupid reason au!! :D

 oh gladly

also remy is their partner so they’re going to be included in this too

(under the cut because it got long)

virgil served as a knight before his promotion as advisor to the king!! this is where his whole Constant Vigilance and big strong muscle boy nature came from

remember how i said that roman was captain of the royal guard? yeah he and virgil used to work real close together

virgil used to be the only one able to keep up with roman during sparring practice

virgil and remy met first when virgil dislocated his shoulder in a fight and had to see remy to fix it

remy just naturally draws the conversation out of people, so they were exchanging witty banter all throughout the appointment

when remy had to set virgil’s shoulder, they decided that they never wanted to hear those pained noises again

virgil often snuck down to remy’s office in search of remedies and draughts that would ease the unsleeping mind

of course remy would be awake, hunched over some mortar and pestle with a Very Large mug of coffee nearby, working to replenish the castle’s medicine stores

so they kept each other company. remy usually put on a pot of tea for virgil, slipping in some essence of lavender to knock him out faster (when they did fall asleep, remy would finally wrap up their work and they would carry him to his chambers. virgil was so much less restless in remy’s arms. the change in environment never woke him up when he could smell the odd mix of mint and oregano that they carried everywhere)

logan grew up close to the king. his older brother patton was a senior advisor on the high council, one of the king’s oldest friends

patton would bring logan into meetings with the promise that he’d be quiet and on his best behaviour, and for the most part, logan received his education from military strategists and master philosophers

he also grew up alongside prince roman, who, for a long while, was his closest friend. and he was roman’s

so being around roman so often, he was dragged into most of roman’s princely duties. this involved watching him train

roman was undefeated amongst the castle guard, his matches never lasted more than ten minutes

but then came along a new knight, with shaggy black hair and piercing black eyes who was not only able to hold his own against roman for fifteen minutes in the ring, but managed to send his sword flying out of his hand with lightning speed on their second match

this man had logan’s attention

and you see, virgil’s aware of pretty much everything all the time. he most certainly noticed the young man with the long braid in a scholar’s robes watching all of his practices

roman teases virgil for ogling at his best friend, and teases logan for distracting his right hand man during practice

one day, logan approaches him and asks if he’d like to take a walk 

they get to talking about all sorts of subjects, and logan is delighted to hear that virgil is not only well educated, but has a deep interest in literature

a couple years later, patton walks into the library to hear his little brother in a very heated, very eloquent moral philosophy debate with the second in command of the royal guard

he keeps a closer eye on them after that, and when he’s seen enough, he recommends his king to take them on as his newest advisors

thomas is very familiar with the two of them, they both hang around his son plenty, and he decides that a perspective from the younger generation might just be what the kingdom needs

so virgil steps down from the guard and ascends with logan to the the title of advisor, the youngest two in crane history

he still goes down to the training arena to spar and blow off steam though. he made a deal with thomas that should the kingdom ever need him, he would go back to being a knight to defend his home

(logan and remy adore his muscles and the little scars that litter his body. he makes it a point to pick each of them up at least once a day)

virgil introduces logan to remy early on in their friendship, and while they clash a little at first, logan can’t help but have a great deal of respect for them and their profession

logan would sometimes inquire about the various plants and minerals that line remy’s office, and remy was always happy to explain the properties of each and every single one of them

in turn, remy wondered about the many maps and star charts that filled logan’s notebooks, so logan took them out with him one night to see the real thing

the three of them had developed an unspoken agreement of the checks and balances of their relationship, where there were always one or two of them to stop the other from overworking and vice versa

logan and remy pulled virgil out into the fields for picnics and fresh air whenever he spent too much time in the war room or in the arena for a minute of calm. sometimes, logan even brought out his violin to give the two of them a private concert

remy and virgil were there with notebooks of their own to ease the workload off of logan, and when all that was done, they were all the more eager to invite him to sit by the lake at night (and in the hot summers, even pull him in) 

virgil and logan always brought a tray laden with water and healthy snacks to replace remy’s ever-present coffee mug, and when night fell, they were quick to urge them to bed under the guise of them needing cuddles to sleep

them falling for each other was steady, gradual, and inevitable. neither of them could imagine their future without the other two. when remy brought it up that they were in love with both of them, logan and virgil confessed almost immediately

with thomas’ blessing, they were granted a larger chamber to accommodate the three of them, and now it’s all the more easier for them to coax each other to sleep, the allure of being held tight in each others’ arms too tantalizing to ignore

[sal2724]

IMPORTANCE OF READING

“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies, the man who never reads lives only once. ~ George R.R. Martin”

Reading is a basic tool in the living of a GOOD LIFE. The more you read the more things you know. The more that you learn the more places you’ll go. I always used to wonder why some people are creative and some are not. But then when I searched about it every research said that reading is a great tool to success. It is said that Every reader may not be a leader but every leader is a great reader.

Reading is an exercise for the mind. It helps kids calm down and relax, opening doors of new knowledge to enlighten their minds. Kids who read grow up to have better cognitive skills. Reading is good for everyone, not only children or young adults. 

Why reading is important for all age groups?

1.It helps you discover yourself

Every good book opens up new dimensions of thoughts for the reader. When you read a book, you somehow try to connect the events, emotions, experiences and characters in the books with yourself. This not only keeps you engrossed into the book but it also makes you realize how you would react and feel to those situations that have not yet occurred in your life.

It helps you broaden your dimension of likes and dislikes and things that would please you. So with every page that you read, you have a chance to discover a new part of yourself!

2. Imparts valuable lessons from years of experiences

 Books are not written in a day. For an Author, it takes a lot of hard work, understanding, experiences, knowledge and in many cases lots of pain to come up with a single book. But we as a reader get to read them in just weeks or days thereby living years of experiences in considerably less time.

3. It improves your Focus and Concentration 

 The Internet has definitely revolutionized our world. But there’s a huge drawback too. For many of us, a large part of our day is spent surfing, chatting, watching videos, reading unnecessary memes and articles online. No wonder people are growing more impatient and losing focus.

However, reading books is one of those constructive habits that actually help us improve our concentration power. It helps us to train our brain to focus our attention and live in the present.

4. Reading improves your emotional health 

 Books are full of emotions. Sometimes they will make you cry with every turning page and sometimes they will just keep you smiling. It can fill you with anger when the antagonist of the story succeeds in his evil plan, but again it can give you immense pleasure to see your hero achieving his goal.

Books can make us happy, sad, jealous, loved, betrayed and so on! Books are thus an amalgamation of different mixed emotions that ultimately help us grow emotionally!

5. Importance of Reading in memory enhancement 

 There are a lot of things that we need to remember while reading a book. Name of the characters and their features, name of the places, plots and sub-plots, the sequence of events, important conversations etc. are some of the key information we need to keep in mind while reading. And the ability to retain these information keeps improving with the number of books that you read.

As your brain learns to remember the information from the story-line, it also becomes better at remembering other things of your life. So by reading books, you are also indirectly training your brain in improving your memory.

6. It’s a great source of motivation Life is tricky.

 Sometimes there are moments in our life when we feel down and discouraged. We may lose our hope and interest in life and just want to give up. Well, in times like this, sometimes all we need is a little motivation, little push in the right direction.

Reading a good inspirational book during such period can change our way of thinking and give us hope and motivation. Books are no doubt a huge source of motivation. We can derive great inspirations from them and transform our lives positively.

7. It expands your knowledge and makes you smarter

 Books are a very rich source of information. With every book you read, you get to learn new things. The more you read, the more you know about different people, their behavior and experiences, different places, different cultures and facts that otherwise you would not have known.

Reading books somehow or the other adds depth to your knowledge base. With your increasing knowledge, you become capable of making better decisions and choices in life. You become aware of your surroundings and tend to have an open mind.

With so many new things learned, people who read, obviously tend to be smarter than people who don’t!

8. Broadens your Imagination and enhances your creativity

“It was a bright cold day on April, and the clocks were striking thirteen”. This is the famous opening line of the novel 1984 by George Orwell.

How do you interpret this line?

In reality, we hardly experience conditions like this. Standard Striking Clock strikes a maximum twelve times. Similarly, we rarely have a day both bright and cold simultaneously. However, George Orwell tries to paint the gloomy yet hopeful condition of life by some imaginative references. The interpretation can vary from person to person though.

This is the beauty of books. It makes you imagine things beyond possibility – things that would not come to our mind normally. Books give you a lot to think about. They also give you the opportunity to have your own perspectives and imaginations into play!

Apart from this, different creative characters, plots, and approaches trigger your creativity as well. You become both creative and imaginative!

There are also many books on creativity that can particularly shape and boost your creative thinking. 

9. It makes you more empathic

 Another reason why reading is important is because it makes you empathic. Being empathic means being able to understand and share the feelings of others. Books connect you with their characters and plots. You yourself become a part of the book and feel what the characters are supposed to feel. You understand their pain and grievances.

Books also somehow make you feel connected with the authors. You are constantly in some sort of conversation with the book. When you are attentive to reading books, you are actually listening to what the book has to say to you. This makes you a good listener. So reading books develop empathy and thus help you to understand what others feel under different circumstances.

10. Reduces stress and helps you sleep better 

 Reading is one of the best ways to relax your mind. According to a 

Research by University of Sussex

 Reading for even six minutes can reduce your stress levels by as high as 68 percent!

Psychologists believe that this is probably because when we are lost in a book, our mind is focused on reading and that little distraction from the real world and our problems into a literary world eases the tensions in muscles and heart.

So the ultimate way of relaxing your mind is by losing yourself in a book! Read more and you will realize yourself that your stress level becomes significantly low with time.

Reading has a pretty positive impact on another important aspect of our life – a good night sleep! Reading books calms your mind and helps you sleep better.

However, avoid reading thrillers, horror, and mystery or suspense genre books before going to bed. If you are so lost in such books, you might end up staying awake instead. So, better read some calming, inspirational books that would give you positive vibes without making you impatient.

11. Importance of Reading in enhancing your critical and analytical thinking 

 While reading, a lot of information are being processed in our brain simultaneously. It opens up many different perspectives for your brain to comprehend. If you are reading a mystery or suspense book, your brain constantly tries to guess certain outcomes and events. It also has to relate one event to the other to make sense in the story. All this, in turn, sharpens our mind and enhances our critical and analytical thinking skills.

12. It gives you joy and pleasure

One basic reason why we read is simply because we enjoy reading. Reading brings joy and happiness in our life. We don’t have to depend on someone else to be happy and pleased. It’s true that sometimes reading can be little challenging or even boring, but such conditions are very rare if you know your taste and choose your books accordingly.

13. It makes you humble

 Reading books not only enlighten you with knowledge, but it also makes you realize how much you do not know about the world. With each book teaching you something new, you can’t help but think how limited your knowledge is.

You read a book because you know it will add some new pieces of information in your mind which was so far unknown to you. However, it definitely does not mean you are not smart. It simply shows that you have accepted the truth that what you know is not everything.

There are so many things you can learn and this would not be possible unless you are humble enough to accept this truth!

14. Improves your vocabulary, language command, and communication skills

 If you are a reader, you probably know the importance of reading in enhancing your vocabulary. Reading books is one of the best ways to improve your vocabulary.

Moreover, the conversations in the books also help you to strengthen your command over the language. Your sentence formation becomes quick, better and qualitative. You rarely get stuck for lack of words.

Once you have a richer vocabulary and controlled command over the language, your communication skills automatically become better.

15. Importance of reading in improving your brain functions

 Books has tremendous power. It can shape our lives for good. It can also significantly improve our brain functions!

16. Being lonely will not bother you much

If you are a book lover, you are never really alone! You can always have a friend in the form of a book. And there’s reason why book lovers consider books to be their best friends. Books don’t complain, neither do they have any demands. They just be with you no matter what. You can carry them wherever you want and read them whenever you want provided you make time for reading.

 17. It makes you a better person

One of the most significant importance of reading is that it helps you grow as a person. As mentioned above, reading makes you empathic and humble.

You learn about the hardships in life from experiences of others. You will learn to understand people and be kind and gentle. You will have a better emotional health. Your increased knowledge can also be useful for other people who may look up to you for advice and suggestions. With all this, you are bound to become a better human being!

 SO YEAH YOU GUYS ARE AT THE END OF MY BLOG, SO IT MAKES YOU A VERY GOOD READER. CONGRATS. DO READ MY OTHER BLOGS TOO!!!

[illogicalhusbands]

The Game is Afoot - pt. 4

Bill Masters x Alec Hardy Masters of Sex / Broadchurch Crossover Link to Part 3

So sorry for the long wait! Both my co-mod and I have been extremely busy with our personal lives. I’ve come down with the flu and also had to deal with an emergency that led me to move homes so I’ve had my hands very full. But this update became unexpectedly long, so there actually will be one more part to follow! (Though I feel I’ve been saying that for the past two updates already). Also, wow 300 FOLLOWERS! I am FLOORED. Thanks everyone for the support! I hope the newcomers are all enjoying the content here. I’ll also be putting up a navigation page for the blog soon so it’ll be easier to find the fanfics and fanart that we make.

-

Everyone was staring.

It was one of those rare days that Masters had gotten him to agree to get something that vaguely resembled a complete meal for breakfast, yet by the time they had sat down Alec was quickly losing his appetite.

Pushing thin-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of his nose, he pointedly ignored the sticky feeling of several pairs of eyes on him as he perused through the list of fifty or so names and phone numbers in his hand, taunting him.

“Holmes.”

Alec groaned. He was nowhere near cracking this case than he had been a week ago. There had to be something that he was missing!

“Holmes.” A hand shot out to grab his forearm. Alec looked up to Masters’ steel blue eyes lit up with… worry? “I know this serial burglary case has been driving you mad, but you look horrifying. Just, please, eat something.”

Alec blinked blearily at him. “I’m fine, Watson,” he said, mustering up all the vitriol that he could onto that last word.

“That’s doctor Watson to you,” said Masters, on the slight edge of teasing once again. “But in all seriousness, I am an actual doctor, so you better listen to me when I say you need to take better care of yourself.”

Alec snarled. “I bloody hate doctors.”

“And I’m sure they find you an absolute delight to be with.” Masters took a sandwich from Alec’s plate and held it up to his face. “Now, eat.”

There was something about the doctor’s tone that was so commanding, in a way that never failed to grab Alec’s attention. It was always paired by those cold blue eyes and set jaw. Alec could tell he wielded this weapon on more than one occasion. He could picture Masters talking down rivals or even superiors, looking every bit like the prim and proper man that he presented himself to be, the presence of danger in his eyes the only indicator of his vicious intent. Masters probably never had much difficulty in getting anything he wanted.

Damn, Alec thought, And why did this bastard have to be so bloody attractive?

Alec was able to hold down half of his sandwich. He managed to convince Masters that he would finish the rest at a later time at work. Masters looked doubtful, but that seemed to satisfy him enough.

The whispers restarted when they got up from their seats. Alec grit his teeth. Did this town have nothing better to talk about than what other people got up to? He took a deep breath and nearly prayed that Masters hadn’t noticed at all that the entire bloody town thought of them as an item and could not seem to shut up about it.

Masters walked a step ahead of him and opened the door. “Pleasure as always, Mr. Holmes,” he said with a smooth grin. Please, please please don’t notice how other people have been talking about us. Above all, please don’t notice how much I want them to be right.

Alec startled at the hand on his lower back, gently pushing him out the door. He tried to look more relaxed, but he could see Masters had taken note of it.

They stepped out onto the pavement. Alec lingered, not wanting to leave things awkward between them. They spoke at the same time.

“Look—”

“I’m—”

“You first,” Alec said.

“Holmes…” the doctor started, eyes darting around nervously. “You know what? It’s nothing. I enjoyed breakfast today. And your company, um… thank… you for that.”

Alec felt his cheeks warming. “Y-yeah? I mean, alright. It-it’s fine, I—” he could see Masters slightly pursing his lips. “You know people talk, right?”

“I imagine they do little else,” said Masters flatly.

Alec scratched the back of his head. How can he get his message across without sounding too presumptuous? “I mean they—ah, they seem to think that we… are together.”

Masters blinked. “But we are together.”

The blood in Alec’s veins turned to ice. “W-what do you—”

“Right now, we’re here. Standing. Together. Is there something so scandalous about that?”

Alec tried to look for any signs on Masters’ face that he was kidding, but there was none. His brow was furrowed in concentration, mulling over the oddity in Alec’s statement.

“O-oh, you meant—I mean, yes! Yes, we are indeed, um, together.” Crap! He’d completely misread the situation. He scolded himself. Don’t look any more like a bumbling idiot in front of him! What was he even doing? Bringing this up with Masters was a surefire way of sending him running for the hills. Alec internally sighed. What kind of respectable man would want to be associated with a “shitface” disgraced detective? If Masters had any idea that the people of Broadchurch had branded them as the town’s Couple of the Year, he’d never want to see Alec again, much less be seen with him. “I suppose I’m just worried about your um, privacy.”

“My… privacy.”

“Yes! You know how it is in here. Everyone’s always up in other people’s business and—oh, would you look at the time!” He raised his wrist and realized a bit too late that he’d forgotten his watch. “I best get going. This was…” There was no reason to look like a flustered schoolgirl, he told himself. “Great, uh… mate.” And before he could stop himself, his fist bumped dejectedly onto Masters’ arm.

For Christ’s sake.

Masters looked at his miserable excuse for social communication and thankfully said nothing.

“I’ll see you around.” Masters gave his arm a firm squeeze that sent electric jolts straight to his chest cavity and left.

Alec kicked the pavement—and inhaled sharply at the contact and the stabs of pain that coursed up his foot.

 -

Just to add a cherry on top of his already messy, bloody cake, a whole bag of bad news greeted him at work. Cold leads, no new suspects, and inconsistent witness statements. Alec spent the next six hours bent over files and data cards, shutting off all his bodily functions and channeling his energy into coming up with anything that might be able to make sense of this increasingly complex case.

“CCTV brought up nothing, sir,” said Miller, looking not much better than he did. “I searched all night-”

“But that’s impossible!” Alec rifled through his own notes, skimming across messily scrawled witness accounts. “You should able to find that red van on the corner of Ivy and Hodges. Without that, our entire case is just mere speculation!”

“I don’t know what to do, sir. I’m just astounded as you are.”

Alec groaned, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “We can’t be caught theorising, Miller! We need evidence.”

“Hang on, I’m working on it!” Miller put her hands on her hips, indignant. “Don’t have to make it look like you’ve been doing all the bloody work. You know how many all nighters I’ve put on in this office?”

“I’m not accusing you,” said Alec, rubbing his entire face, trying to keep himself awake. He could feel his mind floating off elsewhere and that was not good.

“All the while you were off gallivanting with Doctor Masters—”

“Do not bring him into this, Miller. He’s got nothing-”

“Oh don’t put that ‘we’re strictly acquaintances’ bullshit on me! I’m happy for you, really I am. And you definitely need to unwind more than all of us here.”

“It’s not bullshit. We’re barely even friends.”

Miller rolled her eyes. Her expression shifted drastically from the hopeless look she sported before. “At this point, it’s not even cute anymore. You’re just being very annoying.”

“Glad to see I haven’t lost my charm.”

Alec raked a hand through his hair, fighting through a pounding headache. “Masters has given no indication whatsoever of him… caring for… in that way. Just let it go, will you?”

A voice from the main entrance halted their conversation.

“Delivery for a… Sherlock Holmes?” The poor delivery girl was holding up a brown paper bag in her arms as she read the card with pure confusion on her face. She flushed. “Oh no. I-I think this may have been a prank. Is anyone of you actually-”

Miller shot a pointed look at Alec, who stood frozen with his mouth open.

“No, luv, not to worry! He’s right here.” said Miller, walking over to free the girl of the package.

Alec briefly snapped out of it enough to process what he was seeing. “H-how much is this?”

“Oh, no, it’s already been paid for by card, Mr. Holmes,” said the relieved girl. “Have a nice day!”

Alec still couldn’t move by the time Miller had brought the paper bag over to him.

“Go on, then. Open it! This is probably the only entertainment I’m getting today.”

Alec glared at her. “Entertainment. Really, Miller, we’re not a soap opera.”

“Hardy, I have had a very long week and things are very bleak right now with the case, so either you open this bag or I open your skull. Your choice.”

Alec opened the bag.

Inside was a box of takeout from one of his favorite Thai restaurants nearby. A sticky note taped on the top read—I’m aware we’re both busy. Consider this my way of buying you lunch. (Finish all of it.) W.

Miller had been reading over his shoulder again.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” Alec said.

“I swear to god. I can’t deal with this right now.” Miller groaned loudly and cradled her head. “God, I need a coffee.” Alec heard her retreating footsteps.

Alec took out the food from the bag, staring at it as if it were on fire. What did all this mean?

The whispers came back full force. Apparently the entire office had a good view over what just occurred. It was clear the package was addressed to Alec, and they could only think of one person who it came from and they, unfortunately, were correct.

Alec grabbed the food and stomped over to his office, slamming the door behind him. He needed to put a stop to this. The situation was getting out of hand. If people got more ideas about him and Masters, it would ruin everything they had at present. Why, oh why did Alec have to always want more than he deserved? Why couldn’t he just be content with what he was given? Why did he have to develop shoddy feelings for the man?

He of course knew the answer to that. Masters was striking. He commandeered a presence in every room he entered. But more than his appearances, he was also interesting. Alec could never quite tell if he was a being a righteous asshole or just plain blunt. He’d only known Masters for five months, but the companionship between them grew with hardly any effort from either side. He was intelligent and funny, often without meaning to. Alec saw him and instantly felt the need to smoothen his suit, or fix his hair and just try his might at keeping up with the brilliance of this man, to impress him somehow. To make any sort of impression on him, really. He orbited around Masters, held in place by a natural gravitational force.

He absolutely cannot ruin this just because of some vastly exaggerated stories from the grapevine. Still, these people showed no sign of slowing down. He resolved to the one thing that was left for him to do: slam on the brakes.

He needed to avoid Dr. William Masters.

 -

The next day was barely any better. They had made no progress with the case, and both Alec and Miller were at their wits’ end trying to piece everything together. Alec hasn’t handled a case as harrowing as this in about a year. He stayed in the office all night so that Miller could go home and check up on her kids. Alec ran through more CCTV footage and transcripts from witness’ statements. He could feel the answer nearing him, almost within his grasp. He just needed to know which direction to take his hands.

Alec downed the rest of his tepid tea. He set the mug down. When did he get two mugs? It was only then that he noticed his vision spinning. He shook his head. There was no time for sleep when the truth was only millimetres away from his fingertips!

The vibrations from his phone woke him back up. He turned to look. Why was Masters calling at this hour?

“What?” His voice was gruff from disuse. He’d been alone in the headquarters for hours now.

“Ah, so you are still at work.” Masters’ voice was infuriatingly proper and formal, as always.

“Did Miller tell you that?”

“Ellie sent me a text saying you’ll be out all night. I see you’ve not had any luck on the case,”

Alec huffed. “Have you come to gloat?”

“Gloating’s not really my style. However, I will share with you the fact that I’ll be accepting an award next week for my groundbreaking research on improved strategies for in vitro fertilization.”

“That hardly sounds impressive, Watson.” It was very impressive.

“If properly adopted, they could increase IVF success rate by up to forty percent.” Alec could sense the excitement radiating off him through the phone. “Fertility treatments used to be so taboo, Holmes. But we live in an age where these conversations have been opened up in the vernacular. If these techniques—these conversations about the human body—could be made more accessible, imagine how many people can live without that social pressure burdening their shoulders, how many women would not be made to feel so-so ashamed of their bodies! This… This age is a turning point, Holmes, I can feel it. And I would like a part in it. Dabble my footsteps in it, so to say.”

“You’ll leave the most impressive footprints,” Alec found himself saying as a fond smile made its way over to his face.

“Will I?” said Masters, a little flirtatious.

There was no one around at the moment. Alec allowed himself to bask in it, his heart only a little bit broken. “Guarantee it. Be a goldmine for Forensics, I say.”

“Well, I’m glad you have so much confidence in me. Not very many people do.”

Alec took a glance at the clock. 2:17 A.M. and no signs of finishing work anytime soon. He took a deep breath—eyes opening in shock as the air rushed into his lungs like knives.

“Is everything alright?”

He clutched at his desk, making feeble attempts at normalizing his breathing, but the panic only grew stronger. His vision was blurring. Masters’ voice on the phone sounded much farther away.

The last thing he registered was the voice from the phone yelling out his name. His name. And then he blacked out.

TO BE CONTINUED

[dailyaudiobible]

08/12/2020 DAB Transcript

Nehemiah 3:15-5:13, 1 Corinthians 7:25-40, Psalms 32:1-11, Proverbs 21:5-7

Today is the 12th day of August welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is great to be here with you today as we move our way through the center of the week get ready for the back half. And we are continuing our journey through the book of Nehemiah that we have found ourselves in. And there's much for us to learn from that book as well as the letter to the Corinthians, first Corinthians that we’re reading. So, let’s dive in and take the next step forward, which is Nehemiah chapter 3 verse 15 through 5 verse 13 today.

Commentary:

Okay. I want to spend some time talking about what we read in Nehemiah today because Nehemiah is just so helpful for us as we discern a calling and a direction and counting the cost and just trying to follow the will of the Lord as we understand where we’re to go and what we’re to do. And, so, I don’t want to miss that. But I want to second to just kind of catch us up in first Corinthians. We kind of passed this section today about, you know, whether you should get married or whether you should not get married or how you should stay how you are however that is and it causes this confusion where people, “like should I be pursuing a spouse? Should I…should my passions all be put into…into the things of the Lord? What should I do?” Because here it is in first Corinthians. And this brings up like a contextualization thing that we find in these letters. And it gets a little prickly, right? Because this is the word of God. And, so, we read this, and we go like, “this is the word of God for all time. And, so, it's got have some sort of meaning now that it had then.” And, so, if you start discussing, “what…what…what…what might that be?” Well that's when you get into this territory where…where you get people kind of making accusations like, “you’re just trying to make the Bible say whatever you want the Bible to say and you’re just trying to water down the word of God and…and…and my experience among scholarship, that's really not the case at all. People are looking for the essence of what was trying to be communicated in context. And, so, when Paul says today like now, concerning the betrothed, so those engaged to be married. I don’t have a command from the Lord but I’m telling you what I think. I think that in view of the present distress, which is what they were going through at that time in the world, specifically in the region of the city of Corinth, where this church and these people were although all of these letters were passed around other churches. So, we can we say at this time, this present distress that he's talking about. It's good for person to remain as he is. So, if you’re married don't try to not be married in. And if you’re free then don't try to get married. But if you do it's not a sin. It's just that it's gonna introduce all kinds of worldly problems that you have to deal with in your marriage instead of being able to focus wholeheartedly on God or just to quote Paul, “I want you to be free from anxieties. The unmarried man is anxious about the things of the Lord, how to please the Lord. But the married man is anxious about the worldly things, how to please his wife.” And then he goes on to say the reverse that the woman is in the same boat, basically. And, you know, I read is, and I’ve read this, you know…I don’t know… most my life, “the unmarried man is anxious about the things of the Lord and how to please the Lord.” I used to read and think, that's not what. I'm anxious about the opposite sex. That's what I'm anxious about. Because the natural order of things id for us to come together, reproduce and create the next coming generation. Like this is biological, this is spiritual, and this is reality. So, how is it that Paul is saying, “just however you are right now, just stay that way.” It's because Paul's conviction, and it's not just Paul's conviction, like it's…it's a large part of the conviction in the letters in the New Testament. The conviction is that the world is passing away. In fact, let me just quote Paul. He says, “this is what I mean brothers. The appointed time has grown very short. From now on let those who have wives live as though they had none, and those who mourn, as though they were not mourning, and those who rejoice as though they were not rejoicing, and those who buy as though they had no goods, and those who deal with the world as though they had no dealings with it. For the present form of this world is passing away.” That last sentence is the key one, “for the present form of this world is passing away.” And we could say, even though we are a couple of thousand years in the future from this letter, we still believe that trajectory. “The present form of this world is passing away.” That is our eschatological view, like that this is all going somewhere and what we now know is passing away, but something new will be reborn, right? And, so, it's like, that's why we watch the signs of the times. And that's why we, every generation from that generation to this generation thinks this is the last one. The signs are all lining up. This is the end of it all. This is the big one. Paul thought that but not in the distant future, like imminently. This is one of the things that drove the church forward in its early inception, the imminent arrival of the return of Jesus Christ and the establishment of the kingdom of God. And like I said, like generation after generation forward all the way until today continues to have that thread of urgency because it's all throughout the New Testament since they believed this was in imminent thing. Then when we read it we are also in the same place. This is an imminent thing which leads us to live our lives accordingly which is appropriate, like with an urgency that there is something going on that we are a part of, and we are carrying that story forward and we may be in this transitional moment. Like, we should live accordingly. That's living awake and aware. But I don't think it's like in any way sacrilegious or anything disrespectful at all to say what Paul thought about this imminent transition and what the earlier…early church writers, early things that we read in the New Testament, what they thought was imminent wasn't. I mean we’re 2000 years from there. They have all passed on. They are all restored ad whole in God, but this story has continued forward. So, when we read some of these ethical things and this advice that Paul is giving along the way, not just right here, this isn't just the only instance, it’s all throughout the letters. So, when we come across these things where we’re like, “how would that work? Like how…how…how do I live into that? How do I do that?” Let's first understand they were trying to figure that out too. They were trying to figure it out against a backdrop in which this transition, this return, this reemergence of Jesus was going to happen any second. And, so, Paul gives advice accordingly. This is what he thinks. And, so, yeah, if that's the case, if the return of Jesus is imminent, like any day...and I know this gets a little sideways because…because we read the New Testament and then we enter into that same story – any day, maybe today, hopefully today. And I feel that…like hopefully today. But we have 2000 years of history to say, “okay. It wasn't like in the next month. It wasn't even in like the next year. And what they…they thought they thought. And it's not disrespectful to say that what they thought wasn't exactly accurately right. We’re still here and it's 2000 years later. So, that's a fact that's not, like just disrespectful. And, so, having context for what they were thinking and what they were trying to press into helps us define that place in our own lives to press into. But like suggesting that you shouldn't be married you should stay how you are, like you shouldn't…you should pretend like nothing's going on, like you're not mourning if you are, you’re not sad if you are, you’re not rejoicing...if you’re rejoicing…like you’re just trying to focus here on the immediate task at hand then reading it 2000 years later can be confusing because it's like, “okay I don't know exactly what…how I'm supposed to be aimed. And, so, I'm pulled in all kinds of different directions because I don't know exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.” So, what I've learned and what I'll point out as we continue through our year and as long as I am able to continue to do this however many more years into the future, but what I have learned as a student of the Bible as a student of our faith is that context actually matters a lot trying to peel back the layers over thousands of years of time. And, so, my motives for saying what I’m saying today have nothing to do with like trying to make a theological statement or create some sort of theological position. I’m like completely devoid of that at this point. I'm trying to say context matters when we try to do that work. And as we pass this specific section of first Corinthians where Paul’s saying, “like the whole thing is coming down. Like the whole thing is about to blow up, the end is upon us.” Well then, his advice is strong, true, and absolutely good but like just from a logical perspective, we would have to say if people stopped getting married, for the most part, in order to live and what Paul is saying, then by now 2000 years in the future the faith would not have flourished around the world, it would have died out because people stopped having kids because they stopped coming together in union and the union of marriage. So, you see, context matters. And that was an awful lot of words to say context matters but context matters. And that's why we look at the context of things as we navigate.

And, so…and, so, now to Nehemiah. So, Nehemiah just helps us understand that there is a process when there is a calling and there are steps that need to be taken as…as we continue to try to live into what we feel like God is leading us to do. And when we watch Nehemiah we see a person acting in collaboration with wisdom really, So, Nehemiah has gotten to Jerusalem, he has cast the vision, the people have caught the vision, they have gotten on board, they are building this wall, which was the dream. This was the thing that Nehemiah wanted to come from Persia all the way back to Jerusalem to do, to protect God's temple with a wall. And the building of this wall is happening faster than anybody would have suspected. It's…it's actually happening. And, so, when we have prayed and planned and sought God and launched that's what we would hope for is that things go faster than we even planned. But it…it's like the idea that everything's gonna downhill and we’re just going to be coasting into this new destiny that God’s dropped into our lap is unrealistic. Nehemiah faced all kinds of opposition in our reading today alone. So first was the…the…the outside voices of ridicule. Like, I'm quoting this out of Nehemiah. “What are these feeble Jews doing? Will they restore it for themselves? Will they sacrifice? Will they finish up in a day? Will they revive the stones out of the heaps of rubbish and burned ones at that? Even if fox goes upon it it'll break down their stone wall”, right? The voice of discouraging ridicule. So, like, when we’ve launched into something and our heart is in it, like we are working tirelessly and all of the risk that's involved, our heart is invested, and then those of voices of ridicule, like “you think you can actually do something that's gonna matter.” When those things come against us that can be the end of the dream. And if we think about it, we can probably confine places in our lives where it has been, like that it was just debilitating and we just couldn't, we lost heart and we couldn't find it. What Nehemiah does in the face of this ridicule is to cry out to God, to cry out to God, to name it, to say, “look at what they’re doing” and then to keep going, to keep moving forward. That's what he did, and the wall was soon half of its height. Like it was all the way around and half of its height. Once that happened, then these voices of ridicule got more serious and threatening. And, so, yeah the psychology of it just kind of gets in your head. Like an army is going to swoop down and destroy us at any moment. All of these threats are coming against them. This wall that was easy to ridicule when it was just a pile of burnt up rocks is now actually becoming a wall and people are starting to see that this is going to happen and so they're trying to intimidate the people to get them to stop building this wall, to come down off that wall and leave it behind. And in our own lives, like man, we reach a point where the dream was awesome but the blood and sweat of trying to make it happen is difficult. And, so, all of these threats that seem to come against us in all kinds of ways can get us off course or to give us…get us to give up completely. What Nehemiah did when he believed that the threats, like he was taking the threats seriously. They weren’t just words of discouragement. This was an actual, intimidating threat. What he did was prepare. Pre…like if you’re gonna attack us, it’s not…you're not attacking an unprepared person or people. We’ll be ready for you. So, if that’s what you’re gonna do you’re not going to just take us out. We’re gonna stand here and oppose you. And, so, he armed everybody along the wall, even cut the workforce in half so that half the people could be on guard and ready while the other half of the people worked kind of one-handed while they had weapons ready as well. And as fast as the first half of the wall went up and things have ground to a slow process now, because everybody can't work without fear and wholehearted…like everybody…everybody's got to be on guard now that can be very discouraging when things begin to slow down. But let's notice that even though things slowed down significantly…significantly in the book of Nehemiah they still moved forward. Like every stone that got laid was one more stone toward completion. Every brick that was put in the wall was one more brick forward. Like even though things have slowed down they were still going forward. And then problems begin to erupt from within the camp. Like this is the next thing that Nehemiah faces today. These people are building the wall, but they have other obligations and taxes to pay and land to maintain and it’s becoming very, very difficult. And, so, some of the more wealthy people are praying upon the more unfortunate people, even to the point of selling their fellow Hebrew brothers and sisters into slavery, a horrible thing. And Nehemiah finds out about this and he doesn't just try to work the back channel of politics so that, you know…so that the behavior can continue but at a…in a different way or at a different rate of what…like he calls the whole thing out into the light. Like he drags this issue into the light and names it and confronts the people doing it. And they are ashamed because they have no defense against it. It is what they're doing. And so often when we are on some sort of mission, man, its when things go sideways within…within the team, right, that…that there are problems in all these kind of back channels and this is where gossip festers. Nehemiah just drug it into the light right away and named it. And, so, in our reading it’s like ridicule, intimidation, threats, trouble from within the camp. These are all obstacles that Nehemiah faced while trying to achieve the dream, the dream that there would be a wall around the city of God, where the temple of God dwelled. And, so, we should, on the one hand, take heart. We’re not the only ones that go through this kind of stuff. This is how it works. But too, we see that however Nehemiah responds, however it is that he…he's doing everything with wisdom, he's doing everything ethically but whatever he does, he's doing it in such a way that forward progress can still happen. Even if it slows to a crawl the thing doesn't stop. It continues forward however it's got to be situated so that it can.

Prayer:

Father, there's a lot to here, there’s a lot here and we invite Your Holy Spirit, as we do every day because it's You who will lead us into all truth. It's You who will guide our steps. It's You that we are depending. In fact You help us to realize how utterly dependent we are upon You when we see the context of the stories in the Bible, when we understand that these are examples and these people all had to wrestle with the same things that we wrestle with as well, that like we’re not just reading the superhero version of the faith where all of these people were just so powerful that they didn't face any kind of challenges. They're not exceptions, they’re examples, examples for us in our own lives. And, so, come Holy Spirit we become aware of You. And as we think about these things today, tomorrow, whenever it is You bring them to mind, however it is, that we are listening and that we are seeing where You are leading. We do need You now more than ever and You are not distant, and You are not unavailable. We are just largely unaware. So, give us eyes to see and ears to hear we pray in the mighty name of Jesus. Amen.

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[zenithlux]

End of Ascalon - 11

Catch up on the story here!

Having been informed of all you accomplished during your time in Falcon's Nest and Camp Cloudtop, Count Edmont wishes to express his heartfelt gratitude. He has scarcely begun to speak, however, when his steward bursts in: Tataru has been arrested by a knight of the Heavens' Ward─one “Ser Grinnaux”─on the charge of fomenting heresy. 

Journal - Divine Intervention

At first, Alphinaud didn’t know what to say, even though a million questions bombarded him all at once. How did this happen? Why Tataru? Why not himself or Z’iyanna? Did they think these charges wouldn’t stick on anyone else? But despite all of this, all he could say was, “why?”

“As far as we know,” Count Edmont said. “She was merely asking questions at the Forgotten Knight, but one of the Heaven’s ward overheard her at the wrong time and accused her of trying to spread heresy. We tried asking with she said, but they wouldn’t give us a straight answer.”

“So what does that mean.?”

“She will stand trial, either a simple one that she will likely lose or a trial by combat that she will also lose without a champion.”

“Who does the champion have to fight?”

“One of the accusers,” Edmont said. 

Alphinaud didn’t want to hear the answer, even though he already knew it was coming. “A member of the Heaven’s Ward?”

“Yes,” Count Edmont said. “Which means we need to find Z’iyanna quickly.”

“I’ll do it,” Alphinaud said. “I can fight.”

He knew he shouldn’t have been offended by the surprise on the Count’s face, but it did bother him just a bit. “Are you sure? The Heaven’s Ward is not to be trifled with.”

“We cannot always rely on Z’iyanna to fix our problems.” Alphinaud snapped. 

“This is nothing against you,” Count Edmont said. “But Z’iyanna can finish the trial quickly so we can all move on.”

“Well she’s not here,” Alphinaud said. “And we don’t have a lot of time.” 

Slowly, Edmont nodded. “I will delay the trial as much as possible. Prepare yourself, Alphinaud. I’ll find out who your competition will be.” Despite his words, Alphinaud had a feeling that Count Edmont was still hoping for more. 

Plumes of fire fill her vision as smoke sweeps through the area. Yet, nothing bothers her as it should. She does not cough. She does not struggle to breathe. She simply stands there, watching as the red moon cracks open. She knows what is inside; the dragon both killed and reborn. And she knows the future they will have together; the world she will try to show him. 

“It won’t be long,” his voice whispers in the back of her mind. “You will give in.”

Wings burst from the red moon as pieces of it rain down from the sky. 

“No,” She thinks. “I still have things to show you.”

He snorts. “Believe what you will, Warrior of Light. But I know the truth.” 

As he bursts from his prison, a golden light surrounds her. She watches as he sweeps through the armies, decimating everything in his past. 

“And I will destroy you… and everything you love.” 

Z’iyanna jerked awake, but the pile of thick blankets kept her still. Her eyes dark around the room, confused as her brain struggled to comprehend where she is. Haurchefant’s home, she finally told herself, taking a slow, deep breath to bring her thoughts back together. 

She’d had that dream before. Numerous times since she and Bahamut’s soul’s fused. His words were always the same. I will destroy you. For the most part, she brushed it off as his dominant soul wishing to be free.  But sometimes - in those rare occasions when she lost her confidence or forgot who she was - his words would embed themselves into her mind, stewing there for days before she could let them go. This time, she closed her eyes and shoved them back. She had too much to do and nowhere near enough time to dwell on the thoughts of a being that rarely showed himself. 

A knock at the door yanked her attention away. “Come in,” She said. Relief flooded her when Haurchefant stepped in, closing the door quietly behind him. Then she noticed his expression and knew immediately that something was wrong. “What happened?” She said, sitting up as she held the blankets close to her chest. 

The more Haurchefant spoke, the angrier Z’iyanna became. This was clearly some kind of attack on her. Tataru merely got caught in the crossfire. Why else would they arrest her? Though with what little she knew about the Heaven’s Ward, Z’iyanna wouldn’t put it past them to find any reason they could to arrest anyone, not just her companions. “And Alphinaud wants to fight for her?” She said. 

“That is his plan, yes.” Haurchefant said. 

Z’iyanna swore under her breath. If Haurchefant heard, he ignored it. “How long do we have?”

“My father is delaying the trial as much as possible.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“A few days, at most,” Haurchefant hesitated. “Though I fear they may force it sooner if they think you are injured.”

“Then we can’t let them think that,” She rose from the bed, letting the blanket fall from her lean frame. The tips of Haurchefant’s ears turned a bright red, but the rest of him simply helped her into her robe before she had a chance to stop him. “I’ll be fine,” She said as she met his gaze. “I’ve fought worse than the Heaven’s Ward.” He started to speak, but she pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head. “And in a much worse state.”

“As much as you would like to believe it, Lady Z’iyanna,” Haurchefant said. “You are not invincible.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“Are you certain?”

She sighed, but she kept the frustration out of it. She was only alive because he risked his life to come find her, among other reasons. It was fair for him to assume the worst. But she never had time to do such a thing. She was the Warrior of the Light. The Primal-Slayer and Dragon Killer. She was supposed to be a picture of perfect calm and limitless power at every given opportunity. She didn’t have time to rest, not when one of the few friends she had left was about to lose her life. 

“I’ll be fine,” She said quietly as she took his hand. “I need you to trust me.”

“I always do,” Haurchefant said without hesitation. “It’s the other people I don’t trust.”

She smiled and patted his cheek. “I won’t let you down.”

He softened under her touch, leaning just slightly into her hand. “I know.”

A sound drew her attention. A moogle? “Umm….” A voice said from outside the door. “Can I… come in maybe, kupo?”

She looked to Haurchefant, who just shrugged and opened the door. “I present to you, Lady Puklia Pachu.”

The moogle waved her arms in a panic. “I’ve never been called a lady before, kupo! Don’t startle me like that.” Then, her gaze landed on Z’iyanna and she froze. “Um… Hi, kupo?”

“Hello,” Z’iyanna said as she tilted her head. 

“It seems that the Lord Commander brought back a companion.”

“He was really nice, kupo!” Puklia said. “And I told him that I wanted to adventure with the greatest adventurers of all adventurers!” She waved her cane around as her pom bobbed back and forth. “So I came to you, kupo. Oh please, please please,” She waved her arms around again. “Let me join you.”

Z’iyanna stared at her. A moogle that wanted to go adventuring? She supposed it wasn’t the craziest thing for a moogle to ask for, but she hadn’t heard of many wandering outside of Gridania.  Unless they were postmoogles, but that was a whole different story. “Well I’m not going anywhere yet,” She said slowly.

“I’m a really good healer, kupo.” She said, presenting her little wooden cane like as a prized possession. “And I won’t get in the way. Promise, kupo!”

Z’iyanna looked to Haurchefant who just gave her one of those smiles and shrugged again. “If you can stay out of sight for now,” Z’iyanna said. “Then the next time I go adventuring, I’ll bring you along, deal.”  

The moogle nearly fell out of the sky with elation. “I won’t let you down, kupo!” 

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

It always baffled Aymeric just how little power he had in situations like this. As the Lord Commander, he thought he could at least vouch for Tataru, but his voice didn’t matter when faced with the Heaven’s Ward. And after three days of delays- in no small part thanks to Count Edmont- only the Archbishop himself could stop this trial. And Aymeric had a sneaking suspicion that his father was keenly aware of what was taking place below his golden throne. What Aymeric didn’t know was what Thordan wanted out of this. He’d had Tataru arrested while everyone else was gone, and hadn’t sent any messages to Camp Cloudtop or anywhere else outside of Ishgard. But if imprisoning or, Fury forbid, killing Tataru wasn’t the goal… then what was?

“The accused, Tataru Taru, stands trial for the act of heresy,” The judge said. “And the accused has chosen to face her accuser, Ser Grinnaux, in a trial by combat.” He leaned forward on the bench, peering down at the terrified Lalafell before him. “I assume you have someone fighting in your place, yes young lady?”

Tataru looked up at Alphinaud and back to the judge. But before she could speak, the door snapped open. Z’iyanna took a step inside, glaring first at the judge, then at Sir Grinnaux who merely scowled as he crossed his arms. Haurchefant came in behind her, bowing once to the judge before joining Aymeric, his face pale. “I’ll be her champion,” Z’iyanna said. 

Murmurs swept through the crowd as Z’iyanna walked up to the arena. Aymeric swore he saw Alphinaud’s expression fall, but he stepped out of her way without a hint of an argument. She looked like a picture of calm. Pristine white mage robes. Thyrus strapped to her back. Her hair was perfectly braided and her tail and ears almost seemed to shimmer. It was a far cry from the woman who had nearly died in the Sea of Clouds. 

Aymeric hoped she felt as confident as she looked. 

“She needs more rest,” Haurchefant muttered. “But Lady Tataru needed her help.”

“Will she be alright?” Aymeric said.

“She has to be,” Haurchefant said. 

“The great Warrior of Light,” Ser Grinnaux said, raising his ax onto his shoulder. “Come to save your little friend?”

Z’iyanna scoffed as she hopped into the ring. “You’re nothing more than a bully, Sir Grinnaux. And I will have no problems proving it.” She grabbed Thyrus and gave him a dramatic bow before brandishing it the same way she would against any other monster. Sir Grinnaux’s eyes narrowed, but Aymeric noticed how his shoulders tightened and he stood just a bit straighter. Aymeric tried to hide his nerves. If Z’iyanna could be that composed, then surely he could handle himself from the crowd. But he could see the worry in Haurchefant’s eyes and the way he was standing straighter than usual. If her closest confidant was worried…

“Fine,” Sir Grinnaux said as he pulled his ax from his back. “But I won’t hold back.”

Aymeric finally let go of a breath when Z’iyanna smirked. “Neither will I.”

He moved first, barreling at her with astounding speed. But she simply hopped to the side and snapped her cane forward, knocking him back with a wave of rocks. She did it a second time, nearly knocking him off his feet. The third cast was a blast of wind. He skidded backward, and Aymeric could see small cuts in the few weak points of the knight’s armor. When he moved for another strike, she raised the staff. A blinding flash caused screams in the crowd, and when the light was gone, Grinnaux was on the ground with a broadsword pointed directly at his neck. Her robe was gone, replaced by paladin’s armor that looked even more pristine than the knight’s own did. “I have not heard if this was a fight to the death,” She said, her expression bored. “What’s the ruling on that one?”

Grinnaux grunted, glaring at her. “I drop my accusations.” 

She didn’t pull the sword away. “And you and the rest of your knights will refrain from making anymore against myself or my companions for as long as we remain in Ishgard.”  She tilted her head, pressing her armored foot against his leg. He winced for a fraction of a section before his steadfast glare returned. “Do I make myself clear?”

After a long moment, Grinnaux bit out, “I will inform the others.”

“Good,” Z’iyanna said cheerfully as she pulled away and tossed the sword. The crowd gasped as it transformed into Thyrus and her clothes returned to normal. She bowed to the judge - a bit more courteous this time- and turned to Alphinaud and Tataru. “Let’s go…”

“Z’iyanna.”

She froze as Sir Chariburt and two other knights walked into the hall. “I apologize for the… misunderstanding,,” he said with a pointed glare in Sir Grinnaux’s direction. “The Archbishop wishes to speak to you to discuss this matter in… private.” 

Aymeric’s heart dropped into his stomach, but Z’iyanna looked elated. “Then take me to him,” She said as she waved off the other two. She glanced up at Haurchefant, who simply nodded as she was lead out. 

“Well,” Haurchefant said stiffly. “She got her audience.”

“Hopefully she comes back out,” Aymeric muttered. 

That time, Haurchefant smiled as he lowered his voice. “I’m sure his holiness will give her a warm welcome.” He bowed. “By your leave, Lord Commander.”

“I need to speak with her,” Aymeric said. 

“I’ll let her know.” Haurchefant left them, escorting out a relieved Tataru and a slightly agitated Alphinaud. Aymeric shook his head, waiting for the crowd to disperse before retreating back to his own chambers for what he was certain would be hours of restless sleep.