#and i hope that the makeshift leader of everything i went through knows i wish them healing and happiness despite it all and never ever

[crowrelli]

my gf finally saw a piece of your old it au and was in love with how you drew them and the whole concept but was so mad to hear that people were awful to you about things in it. i still think about your art of that little group all the time too and it still breaks my heart that the whole thing is so upsetting for you. you deserved so much more. you really did. even if you dont answer this due to it being related to that (which is understandable bc of how much it deeply upset and hurt you), please know it was my favorite au of them all and i'll forever hold it in such high respect.

im literally sobbing anon oh my god!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭not to get poetic or anything but it really shakes me to my core sometimes to think about how much i loved that story and how many people enjoyed it given it was my first real big project. (did u know theres people out there with custom superloser tattoos?? its insane!!!) and to know that it still hangs around in peoples minds and lives brings me unimaginable joy and pride in spite of all the people who tried to wreck the beautiful experience.

i like to think that the stuff I went through, the stuff artists like I went through back then, to push for more open trans headcanons and representation, only to get a wave of hatred and hurt from people who just couldnt handle others being proud of themselves, opened the door for so much growth to happen in fandom AND lgbtq spaces.

It was horrible, and i wont lie and say it didnt almost take me from this world, but I think Im a better person for it!! I learned to straighten my shoulders, meet their eyes and tell the angry, nasty, bitter people out there that I wouldnt be shaken by them anymore.

and all i ever wanted was at least one young queer person to see me and learned to stand a little straighter, a little stronger, and a little braver at the end of the day <3 and who knows! maybe somewhere in the future, ill want to pick it back up!! until then i can rely on the messages like yours to keep me confident in the impact and community i made for a silly little story about a bunch of losers <3

[fiction-boys-rule]

Your Love-Fueled Soldier

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x non-gender specific reader (established relationship)

Warnings: extreme violence, mentions of death, torture, slight gore

Word Count: 2,865

Summary: When a job backfires on the team, Eliot and you find yourselves in a dangerous situation. But who will pay the ultimate price?

I felt like tormenting y'all, so here you go. Beware of the warnings for this one please. This is non-gender specific for the reader and I made it as general and inclusive as I could. Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoy :)

Eliot's laugh is something you would give almost anything just to hear more often. Especially when it is a reaction to something you had said. You don't remember what you had said to make him laugh, as you sit on the floor against a wall. All you know is that sound in itself brought such warmth and joy to you. More than you could ever imagine. You reach over and grip Eliot's hand, wishing for him to squeeze it back. All you know is you would give anything to hear it now. They weren't supposed to be able to find you. Hardison said he had the building under surveillance. Nate said you were safe. They lied.

Eliot's laugh had erupted from him like lava from a volcano, his arm had gripped you tighter as his body folded. You had laughed along with him, enjoying that you were able to put him at ease with the current situation. As you rounded the corner of the hallway, your body had let out a rough gasp as Eliot's arm forcibly crushed you to his body even more.

You had let out a short protest before your eyes met the sight in front of you.

More than two dozen men, armed and clothed for combat. The man in front looked both of you over, his gaze like steel. His hand held his gun steadily. The tattoos on his neck and his demeanor made you shiver. The way Eliot was holding you confirmed your suspicions.

They were not here to rough you up a little bit. They were here to kill you.

Somehow, the team had not found out about the criminal ties of your mark. Somehow, this one had slipped. Your mark had disappeared, the combined skills of the team ending in no newfound information on his whereabouts whatsoever. This mark was good, and it scared you. Nate's constant assurances hadn't calmed any of you, so Hardison agreed to find makeshift safehouses for the time being. Nate and Sophie had one, Parker and Hardison had one, and Eliot and you had agreed to pair up as well. Nate said splitting up would be for the best. Until things were figured out.

One week, Nate had said. One week for the mark to show any trace, and if not, Nate would be pulling all of you from the job.

You had all thought he was just a coward who got spooked and scurried off to who knows where, but now you know you were all terribly wrong. He had gone for reinforcements.

You have no idea how the hell they had bypassed Hardison's security. But you knew that if they were good enough to kill, they were going to make sure to finish the job without any interruptions or possible suspicion on them or their investments.

The man talked in a foreign language you didn't understand, commanding other men forward. The way Eliot didn't move forward did not do anything to give you more hope.

Before you knew it, shots rang out. You screamed, holding Eliot's body as he stumbled. He hit the floor, and your hands and eyes moved over his body. He was bleeding quickly. One in his shoulder, another in his leg, and the other grazed his head.

They weren't missing by accident. They were elongating this enough to give you a merciless and painful death.

You cried, your hands cradled Eliot's head. His eyes looked up at you, a painful expression in them. He almost looked scared, doubtful almost. As if he couldn't believe that this was happening. They had caught you off guard, and you were both going to pay for it.

Eliot never goes down.

A pair of arms wrapped around you and violently heaved you from Eliot's body. His jaw and hands clenched as you were pulled from him, kicking and screaming. He had tried to sit up and grab you, but instead earned another bullet into his body. Your hands reached behind you to grab at your assailant's face. Your attack was cut short by another man punching your stomach, hard. The wind was knocked out of you, making you lower your hands.

You heard Eliot's screams, your heart broke at the sound of them. Even through his pain, he was pleading for you. For your life.

Eliot had always prioritized teaching the team basic self defense skills, you knew that much. But after you had begun your relationship, he continuously encouraged you to participate in his self defense lessons and always made you practice sparring with him. You knew he was afraid of something happening to one of you if he wasn't there. But for you, this fear seemed to grow tenfold. You had been annoyed at his protectiveness and determination at first, but had slowly grown to be grateful for it, knowing it was his way of keeping you safe and showing his love for you. If you hadn't been so in shock and sure that you were both going to die, you might have actually tried to put those skills he taught you to use.

Shock is a funny thing. It paralyzes you, muting your mind's screams to your body to just do something, anything.

Love is a funny thing. It can completely shock you to life, or shatter you to your core. Seeing Eliot there on the floor had both shocked and shattered you, leaving your mind and body in a numb and stagnant state. Hope had abandoned you as soon as you were ripped from Eliot's body. This was surely your end, though you wished it wasn't.

You were hurled to the floor, landing with a hard thud. Your head throbbed at the impact. You looked up to meet eyes with their leader, his body bending over you. His eyes stared at you as though you were an interesting object he was observing. Curious, but nonchalant. Almost as if he was entertained.

He spoke softly, and ran a finger up from your stomach to your chest. He poked your collarbone, making you flinch. Out of the corner of your eyes, you had seen men crowding over Eliot, kicking him. The man's hand closed over your throat, making your body lurch from the force. He immediately put immense pressure on it, ripping your oxygen flow from you immediately. You had croaked out, your hands feebly wrapped around his wrists in a despondent effort to release yourself from his grip. Your legs had flailed about, your body jerking with your movements. His grip never loosened once, nor did his stare waver. He was watching you, and he was enjoying it.

Your vision had started to go black at the edges and you could hear your rapid heartbeat in your ears. You hadn't wanted to die like this. But you had known the risk of joining the team. You just hoped the team would be able to go on without Eliot and you.

He was going to kill you. And there was nothing you could do.

Suddenly, through your blurry vision and hindered hearing, you had heard gunshots and had seen Eliot rising from the floor.

You knew Eliot wouldn't have gone down without a fight. But still, your heart went out to him. There were too many of them. It was impossible. The man's hold nor stare never faltered. You were seconds away from losing consciousness, and your life.

He was not trained to survive. He was trained to kill. He was trained to finish the job. He was trained to kill you, at all costs.

The gunshots had stopped, the only sound you had heard was your whimpers and deep gasps in despair.

Eliot was surely dead. Now you were next.

A gunshot rang out right above you, and the hands around your neck suddenly slackened. You could faintly feel liquid dripping onto your face. Everything had felt so vivid but so distant at the same time, the sudden return of your oxygen flow making you dizzy and disoriented. The man's body slumped on top of you, making you groan from the weight. Your throat stung, and your eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets. Your had tried to blink away the tears, and your eyes welcomed Eliot into your line of sight.

He looked half dead.

His clothes were bloody, so were his hands. His face had a hard expression on it, matching what he had just done. But his eyes had been the worst. They had a distant look in them, a steely gaze. He had looked at you as though you were a stranger, or an object. As though you meant nothing to him. You had never seen him like that before. His gaze moved down to the gun in his hands. He had disarmed it and thrown it across the floor. It looked as though the action was more robotic than a conscious effort. You knew he hated guns, you had never seen him use one before. He had then unceremoniously keeled over, falling to the floor again. Though he managed to catch himself with his hands.

You started to cry, looking over at him and willing the relief of him being alive to calm you.

He then leaned over, pushing weakly at the man still on top of you. Your hands responded at last, helping him to push. His body landed beside you, his blood on your shirt. Eliot's arms give out, his head falling back to land on the floor. You pushed yourself up from the floor despite your body's every protest and weakly moved over to Eliot. Your hands shakily caressed his cheek, your fingers running over his blood slicked skin and hair. His eyes stared at the ceiling, looking as though he was in another dimension.

That was when it hit you.

Eliot loved you. You had never fully understood what that entailed, despite what the team had repeatedly tried to hint at with their short suggestions.

Eliot loved you, just like the others. But his love for you was different. You had almost died, and Eliot too. But his body, mind, and soul went through a complete reset once he saw you on the brink of death. You realized then, as your hands caressed your detached lover, that every fiber of his being had made it his mission to save you.

To protect you. To keep you alive. Even if it cost his life.

Eliot was trained to survive, you knew that. But he was also trained to keep people safe. That was his job. And Eliot always did his job. No matter what. You were reminded of his secret past with Moreau, and how much he kept it from everyone because of what he did. What he had become.

Eliot had become what he hated most to save you.

He had turned off all of his emotions except for his anger, all of his morality, just to do what needed to be done. What he knew he could not do if he was not disconnected from reality.

You wondered if this was worse than what he did for Moreau.

You hated that your love, which you had thought to be such a beautiful and wonderful blessing, turned out to be the cause of such violence and torment by the hands of one man. One man that you loved so much, despite his constant thoughts about being not enough for you. Not good enough.

But some selfish part of you deep inside was secretly grateful that he was alive, even if it meant that this could produce unpredictable results. You hated that selfish part of you. The one that was too selfish to let him go, let him be at peace instead of having to live a life of mental affliction.

You couldn't imagine your life without him. And you didn't want to.

He had groaned, the first sound out of his mouth.

It wasn't a laugh, but it was enough.

You had moved his hair back from his face and ignored the blood. His eyes had closed, making a surge of newfound anxiety go through you. Your hands were still shaking, your breaths still uneven. But Eliot was alive. And that was enough for you.

Your eyes had caught sight of the blood seeping through the bullet wound in his leg. Your hands left his face, and instead they gripped your shirt and pulled it from your body. You tied it around his leg tightly to stop the blood flow, making him groan again. You had then apologized to him softly, your voice sounding out of place. Hoarse and weak.

You willed all of your remaining strength into surrounding his upper body with your arms to pull him into your lap. His hands laid limp at his sides. You felt his chest taking heavy breaths, the sweat drenching his shirt. The dark bruises present on his visible skin had made you afraid to see what other injuries were covered under his clothes. Some possible scars to remind him of this horrible day. Battle scars. But what had scared you the most was the thought of the mental trauma and non visible scars he will surely carry with him for the rest of his life. Knowing him, most of it will present itself in debilitating nightmares that come during the few hours he does manage to sleep. Ones where he allows himself to be a prisoner inside his mind and body. Hours spent without distracting himself with training or other activities and missions that allow the dark thoughts and memories to be kept at bay for the time being. Only you had known just how fearful he is of them. How crippling they were.

Your eyes looked up, as if your mind was suddenly made aware of where you were. Your eyes raked over all of the bodies, splayed out at irregular angles and bloody. There were so many. You had no idea how Eliot had done it. It honestly scared you. His determination when it came to you. What he was capable of.

Your love-fueled soldier.

As you had sat there, with your slowly diminishing adrenaline and your detached lover in your arms, you vowed to thank him for the rest of your life. Eliot always risked his life every day, without hesitation, for the team. But with you, it was different. Even at the end of the road, where hope was lost and death was certain, he didn't give up. Instead, it had seemed as though his body was shocked to life, energized from the injuries instead of shutting down. He had not risked his life for you today, he had shown that he was ready to give it, as long as it meant that you would live. Your hands tightened around him, vowing again and again in your mind that you would thank him every day. You knew the guilt would come eventually for you, especially on nights when the nightmares would come for him, crippling your soldier. But you also knew that if you were to ever let the guilt consume you, it would mean that Eliot's efforts would have failed. Because if there's one thing that you knew, it was that Eliot would need you more than ever after today. And you were more than happy to be with him for the rest of your life, no questions asked. On the good days, and the bad days too. You would show him just how thankful you were for him saving you, and in turn you would save him from himself. You would not let his own mental warfare take him from you, not as long as you would be there to love and support him.

A blinking red light on a camera caught your attention. You frowned up at it. It started to move up and down, as if saying yes. Comprehension washed over you, and had made more tears spring to your eyes.

Hardison.

Hardison was going to get help.

Everything was going to be okay.

Eliot was going to be okay.

You had looked back down to Eliot, a few of your tears fell on his face.

You leaned your forehead against his with a whimper, as if to say I'm sorry.

Your lips kissed his forehead, as if to say it's going to be okay.

Your hands moved to softly grasp his face, as if to say I'm right here.

Your lips kissed his softly, as if to say I love you.

You leaned your head on his chest and tightened your hold around his, as if to say I'm not leaving you.

You heard sirens wailing nearby, and you could not stifle the sudden sob that pushed its way out of you.

You sat up and leant your head back against the wall as your hands gripped the fabric of Eliot's shirt.

You looked over to the camera again and smiled through the tears. You did not have much more strength to do anything else but nod your head.

You reach over and grip Eliot's hand, wishing for him to squeeze it back.

He does.

[kurlyfrasier]

Love Unknown (Part 1)

My dearest, most patient Nonny (you know who you are). I give you; PART ONE of your request. I hate that you’ve had to wait such a ridiculously long time for your request, so I thought I’d go ahead and give you the first bit. I hope you enjoy! Also, you never specified if you wanted the Reader and Raph to be in a relationship already so I hope you don’t mind that they are not in one at the moment.

Pairing: Raph x Reader

The Request (includes obvious warnings): its about angst, (spoiler), fight, blood and (spoiler again). ok, raph had a fight with reader so he say bad things to her, so he listens music (ZAYN & Sia - Dusk Till Dawn) because he was sad and crying but she could never hate raph, so after raph... (I’m leaving this part out of the request so there’s not so many spoilers) ....so he goes to reader and they make up. (possible trigger warning in tags that I took out of this request; may have to expand tags to see it)

A/N: I actually don’t watch any of the TMNT series’ so I know nothing about Destructor X (I’m assuming that’s who you wanted as the villain. I had to look it up). So, I took the liberty of changing the villain to one I know a tiny, itty bitty bit more about. I sincerely apologize if this ruins it for you. Also, this is a first draft.

Disclaimer: I own no TMNT anything, nor do I know any NYC geography, song belongs to Zayn & Sia, and last - but not least - Nonny owns this lovely, specific request! Honestly, I could do SO MUCH with this and it was hard to choose how to go about it. Last thing, I promise: If anyone thinks of a better title, PLEASE SHARE IT cuz I am terrible at coming up with titles.

Word Count: 1189

Raph fell onto his bed with a loud huff, body trembling from the hours-long workout he just finished. Yet, he was still angry - at himself more so than you. The words he spouted at you in a jealous rage- He shook his head, barely hearing the music blasting through his overly-large headphones as he recalled you wrestling with Mikey. His hand hovered, prepared to rip his headphones off, when the song changed to one you must have added to his playlist. You always did silly things like that; instilling bits of yourself into the turtles lives. They all loved it. 

Especially him. 

Especially on the days when you weren’t able to come visit.

Today had not been one of those days, but he had ruined it minutes into your visit.

His arm landed heavily next to him. Savoring the song, he closed his eyes. Unable to stop himself from falling for you even harder than he already had. A tear escaped, sliding down his cheek. Everything about the song reminded him of how he wished he could be with you. How he wanted to be there with you from dusk to dawn. How he wished to watch the sunrise with you. How he wished he had the right to touch you as the song implied.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Something’s wrong,” Donnie whispered to Leo, pointing to a large screened device as Raph walked into the dojo, ready for patrol. “Her phone suddenly disconnected and I can’t pinpoint her on the GPS.”

Raph froze at his brother’s words, stomach sinking. He had a gut feeling they were talking about you. 

“Has she ever turned off her phone before?” Leo asked quietly, voice calm.

“Never,” Donnie emphatically shook his head, looking more worried by the second. “I’ve explained to her that she has to make sure her phone never dies and she nevers turns it off. Otherwise, if something happens…” He let the sentence hang.

“It’s possible (Y/n) forgot to charge her phone and-”

“That wouldn’t happen Leo!” Donnie whisper-shouted, shooting daggers at their brother. “She’s more responsible than that.”

“I know, I know,” Leo raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll go check her apartment and make sure everything’s okay.”

“What about R-”

“Don’t say anything until I get back,” Leo turned on his heel to find the very brother he was hoping to avoid, eyes widening slightly before forcing a neutral expression once more.

“Where ya goin’?” Raph asked, feigning nonchalance. Inside, he was raging, blood deafeningly pumped through his veins.

“Just getting some fresh air before we head out on patrol, is all,” he lied, making his way out of the dojo.

“I call bull,” Raph stated, eyes cold as he challenged their so-called leader, grabbing his brother’s arm in a vice-like grip. “What’s going on,” he growled out.

“It could be nothing, Raph. Calm-”

“(Y/n)’s phone is off,” Leo snapped his head in Donnie’s direction to find him marching their way. “Last I saw, she was headed East on Michigan Avenue.”

“When?”

“A couple of hours ago-”

“And you didn’t think to wake me!?” Raph released Leo to shake some sense into Donnie. He may have been a genius, but he could be a real dunce sometimes. “What if somethin’ happened to her! Huh!? What then!?”

“I thought-”

“It don’t matter what ya thought, Donnie!” Raph roared, shoving his brother away, causing him to stumble to the ground.

Next thing Raph knew, he and his brothers were topside, rain beating down on them in torrents as they headed East on Michigan, but he didn’t feel the cold. His only thoughts were of you; your scent, your hair, your laugh, that spark in your eye when you were up to something - or angry, now that he thought about it. Point was, if anything happened to you… he would never be able to forgive himself. Heck, he wasn’t sure he would live. You were his sunshine on his darkest days, the one thing he looked forward to most was seeing your smiling face. Not that you knew this, especially after your fight earlier in the day. 

One thing he knew for certain, on top of all that, was that he would never deserve you.

He was a monster. Something he proved all too well earlier that day and he wouldn’t be at all surprised if you hated him for it. Even he knew that he blew up for no good reason. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were drenched, and not from the sprinkle of rain that hit you- how long ago was it now? You didn’t know. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. The warm, thick liquid dripped down your temple from the last blow Karai had given you with the butt of her tanto blade. Eyes closed, you let out a groan, head pounding from the memory.

They had left you; the lowly Foot Clan soldiers and Karai, but you knew they’d be back for more. Considering how silent you were about the turtles whereabouts, you basically guaranteed yourself a nice, long torture. Karai just had to go get her ‘tools’, as she called them. Personally, you thought her fists, feet, and tantos were enough. 

Opening your eyes, you sought a way to escape. Not that you had any luck so far ridding yourself of the deadly tight ropes tying you to the hard, metal chair you sat in. Still, the thought of escape had you squinting into the darkened room. The only light was when lightning struck in the sky, seeping through the windows close to the ceiling. There were a few open, allowing the booming thunder to roll easily to your ears and rain to drip down the walls. Stacks of boxes surrounded you. If they weren’t too terribly heavy, you might be able to move a stack to create a makeshift staircase to the windows. You wriggled, but it only seemed to tightened the ropes at your wrists and ankles.

With a deep breath you thought of Raph. He was your best friend. If you were to die tonight you hoped he knew you didn’t hate him. Knowing him, that’s exactly what was running through his head. He was so passionate about everything he did. He felt everything so much more than you did, it seemed. Except for maybe one thing; your love for him. Nothing he ever did or said would ever turn your heart away from him. Granted, you did wonder what shot him off this time. He almost never took his anger out on you unless you did something dangerous; like try to follow him on patrol or go through dark alleys or- Well, the list went on. You did like pushing his buttons, but you liked how much he worried over you even more. 

The small smile that crept onto your lips faded the moment Karai slammed open the door, making a grand entrance with a wheeled table covered in objects that reflected the bit of light that now lit the room, giving it an almost romantic glow. It was a small fight to stop the laugh that bubbled in your throat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

[hangedalladalla]

Hello everyone this is a fanfic commission for someone. I do fics about different ships and reader inserts as well. This is part of my COMMISSION FOR A CAUSE for my mom’s previous chronic illness and to support her medications and medical needs (please see my pinned post for images of mri scans and interpretations).This is a short fic about Levi and Hange. Please message me if you want to donate or commission me.

MIRACLE

hangedalladalla

Hange Zoe was one to find out that death is definitely not a one way trip. She had always wondered what is to happen once death comes to you.Was there going to be tranquility and hope? Was there some place wherein your soul can finally rest? Was it some place wherein her soul will meet those that she have lost along the way? Or will she just turn into dust and just let her remains just scatter around into the air. The truth was half of her assumptions was true, half of them were not. Just like how she always thought when she was a child they were there those that she have lost along the way. She can name them not all of them but she can name them.

Her ever loyal assistant squad leader Moblit, her dear friend and former commander Erwin, her comrades and friends Nanaba and Miche. Her old squad Nifa,Abel and the others. She even saw Sasha whom she felt like she have failed. Hange looked back to how disappointed she was of herself when Sasha died. She was supposed to live a long life. With those whom she have loved but she felt like she took that away from her. Nonetheless, all of her fears and anxieties all went away when Sasha turned at her and engulfed her in a huge bone breaking hug if she wasn’t dead she would have groaned in pain but in all honesty she did not feel anything at all but relief, that Sasha wasn’t blaming her. She can finally feel at peace there in that tranquil silent place wherein she can spend the rest of her not-so-life with her comrades.

There was something missing. Hange had been spending a few days now there in the afterlife but something was missing. She cannot fathom the feeling of emptiness and sorrow but there it was, why was it there. Why is it that at the back of her non existent beating heart there was a voice calling out her name in agony. She then felt a surging pain on her left temple followed ny her arms and back. The urge to scream was too strong and yet she couldn’t. She couldn’t ask or scream for rescue. She tried reaching out to her dead comrades but they all just stared at her in solitude. She tried reaching out to Erwin’s hand but he just gave her a sullen and knowing smile, something she had grown accustomed to. The warm sullen smile of his comrade who was now letting go of her hand to kick her back into her reality.

The agonizing painful moment of silence wherein Hange Zoe realized that she was alive and barely breathing. The pain in her back keeps growing stronger and stronger and the screams of Gabi and Annie were muffled by the long deafening ringing in her ear.

There was a name, there it was the agonizing pain in her heart it wasn’t just a voice it was his. It was Levi’s. What was she even thinking trying to find peace in an own realm she created for herself.What was she even thinking leaving Levi all alone when all he had was her and all she had was him.

Everything was just blurry she cannot even decipher which was real and which was her imagination,all she knew was she was flying with Gabi yelling her name while Annie tries to bandage her burnt back that is far from being healed. Maybe this was her imagination as well, there was no way she would be flying right at that very moment because the reason of her death was solely for the flying boat to fly. But there she was being held by Gabi and Annie as they screamed out her name. It doesn’t even matter all she knew and all she could ever think of was the person whom she left. The person who dedicated his heart to her and vice versa. She could only laugh with a fitting cough as she miserably tried to ease the pain of her burning back. Then everything went black.

The next thing Hange knew there was a battle on going already. Who wins and who loses it does not even matter anymore wether it be them or Eren or the Marleyans or the world it does not even matter anymore. As she opened her eye and see through the horizon there he was. Riding a flying titan while here she is being held by Onyankopon. The rumbling had stopped everything was just in shambles and there he was silver orb staring at her own brown one. She does not even know if Levi lost his other eye as well or if the others were fine all she knew at that moment was that returning was the right choice. She does not need the eternal tranquility when right there at that moment of chaos everything just seemed to fall right into place he was there and alive and so was she and that’s all that mattered. Nothing else did it was just Levi and her and the two of them staying alive for each other.

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Hange does not even remember when the war ended, or if it already ended all she knew and remember was Levi’s right arm reaching out to her and her taking it then everything just went black. She immediately rose from where she was laying and pain immediately resurfaced from her back. It felt like it was burning again and it was just really painful. She immediately reached out for her glasses that was at the bedside table when Yelena entered right at the moment.

“Hey, Hange you’re awake.” The blonde said as she placed a cup of water beside her then later on helped her drank it.

“Thanks Yelena.” She said as she looked far away. “Where are the others?”She asked as she continued sipping from her cup. “Where’s Levi?” Again, she asked as panic ate her whole system.

“Fine. They are fine Jean and the others were all still healing as they try to fix the damage of the rumbling. If there even is anymore to recover.” The blonde said with a scoff as she looked faraway. She looked different,tired and empty.

“Your Levi is resting as well. He’s just in the room next to yours. He was so beaten up that I don’t think he will ever fully recover.” The blonde stated still looking in a far distance.

“What happened? How did we all end up here?” Hange asked again to gain Yelena’s attention.

“You don’t remember? Falco’s titan grew tired and fell, luckily all of you who were riding it was okay. Pieck and the others are fine as well. Reiner is still recovering alongside the other shifters.”

“And, Eren? Where is he? What happened to him? Is he okay? Did you get to him? Did you manage to capture him? Was he safe along with the others?” Yelena looked at Hange dumbfounded. Eren was the sole reason why she nearly died and here she was asking about his whereabouts and conditions.

Yelena just raised her head up and looked into the ceiling while shooking her head no. It was more than enough of an explanation. There was no need for further elaborating about where Eren was and how he was. Yelena’s sullen expression was more than enough for Hange to understand and for tears to well in her eyes, because in all honesty she had raised Eren even if only for just a few years. She created a bond with Eren and it breaks her heart to see him that way. Maybe, they will never now what his sole reason is. Maybe, it was just for him to know and for them to never find out. It doesn’t matter anymore. She shook her head, wiped her tears and looked up into the window staring at the bright horizon, with an empty wish that hopefully wherever Eren is he had reached the freedom that he is fighting for.

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It has been three days since Hange had gained consciousness. She have been visiting Levi’s room from time to time tending to his wounds. Her wounds still hurts as hell but being with Levi, it just somehow lessens. She stared as his face as she wiped the towel down ro clean his wounds. There was nothing wrong with,minus the wounds nevertheless Hange felt guilty, of trying to leave him when he needed her most. For trying to escape from all of her responsibilities and just be there in that tranquil solitude with her comrades. She felt guilty for trying to leave him alone in chaos when the world was in shambles and there she was trying to hold on to the solitude that she probably created for herself. How selfish of her. She heald Levi’s knuckles close to her face and leaned into it before heading out and speaking to Jean and the others.

“Hange! What brought you here aren’t you supposed to be resting? You can barely walk.” Jean said as he guided Hange to the sofa in their shared room with Reiner and Connie as well as Falco. We are still trying to see what we can fix. The other Eldians from Paradis also flew here to help with what they can to rebuild Marley. Afterall, not long after Historia gave birth through the help of the scouts and alliance that Hange built Historia is working with a truce with all the people around their world. To avoid impending wars and such.

“I want to build something.In the forest, near the sea, just a small cottage. Just enough for two people.” Hange said as she fidgeted with her makeshift clutches.

“It does not have to be perfect, just enough to be able to live comfortably in it.” She went on as she explained what she wanted to build. In a span of two weeks do you think you can finish it? Hange asked as she picked her clutches and held the two boys by their shoulders and smiled. The two boys shocked their heads in disbelief then agreed with what she wanted.

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

Levi awakened with a sickening pain throbbing in his head. He felt like it was being broken into half. He does not even remembered when was the last time he was awake all he knew was that his body was aching. He checked his body for any signs of bleedings or injuries, turns out they were almost completely healed. He tried sitting up when suddenly Gabi and Falco entered his room to bring him some water.

“Mr. Levi!” Falco shouted in panic as he grabbed the bottle of water from Gabi and went to Levi’s side to allow him to drink.

“You’ve been out for more than a month Captain. Everyone else was already up and about. Reiner and Pieck are helping in rebuilding Marley, or what’s left of it. Mikasa and the others are building whatever they were working on.” Gabi rambled as she carefully placed pillows at the back of Levi.

Levi just stared at the two of them. The others were alive and well and he was the only one who had not awoken for more than a month. Him, humanity’s strongest soldier, took the longest time to recover, what was wrong with him. He started having flashbacks of the previous memories of him when he stopped at his tracks. He stared at the two kids in front of him. Where was she, he was so sure that he was reaching out to her before Falco’s titan came crashing down. He was sure it was her. He will never forget those brown orb afterall. Levi noticed something about his vision as well. He can still see from both eyes, although the other one was really blurry and barely functioning but it can still recognize figures.

“Hange? Where was Hange?” He asked, afraid that they will give him an answer that will break his heart again.

“She was with Jean,Mikasa and the others, they were trying to build something we’re not really sure what it is though, just that it’s-” Gabi immediately kicked Falco in his legs when he was about to continue.

“Won’t you shut up! You’re just going to ruin everything!” She yelled as she pushed Falco out of Levi’s room while waving Levi goodbye and rambling on about training and things.

Three weeks have flew by faster and Levi could already feel himself regaining his strength. Everyone already visited him. Everyone except her. She was nowhere to be found. There was even no news about her. Whenever he would ask about her they would just shrug their shoulders and change the topic about how they are working on the truce. Or they will just simply answer ‘she’s fine’ or ‘she’s doing well’ like it’s something that is going to ease his mind that easily. Every single day that he was not seeing her his anxiety just grew larger and larger. What if she really did not survive and they were just lying for his sake. What if he was just hallucinating and the others were just going through with his craziness. He abruptly stood up thinking that it was enough and that he had to see her for the sake of his sanity.

He was about to go to Jean’s quarters when Gabi came in bringing a rolled up paper that looked like a map.

“Hey! Someone tasked me to give you this!” GAbi said as she immediately ran out of the door. Levi stared at the piece of paper. It was a map. At the side of the map was a tiny scribble with a note that says ‘meet me here’. There was no name or signature but he knows too damn well who wrote it. He felt his heart beating loudly with just the sight of her scribbles. He immediately took his bag and began travelling. With his condition riding a horse is no big deal already. That is why he immediately took off to go to the said place. The place was suprisingly near. Just a three hour ride from a horse to there and it will be quicker if he had used the innovative car that the Marleyans and the others used.

The forest looked peaceful and serene seems like the part of the forest where his travellung at did not get damaged by the rumbling. It was also near the sea and it brings solitude to his mind. Soon, he already reached the said cottage. IT was a very simple cottage,just enough for 2 or 4 people to live in. It was neat as well and there were fruits,vegetables and flowers growing outside the garden. He immediately reached out for the door knob, heart reaching in his throat he carefully twisted the knob. Nervous and panic, anxious of what he will really find there. Finally he succeeded in opening the door. He didn’t dare to look straight, he did not want to get disappointed immediately. Lucky for him he wasn’t, because right there was the love of his life, the person whom he dedicated his heart for. His other half. Smiling at him tears brimming in her eyes as she looked at him with her beautiful brown orb.

“Hange.” It was like a whisper, he did not know to whom he was calling to. He felt his legs buckle and he fell on his knees. Hange as well let go of her crutches as she held on to him. Levi who was holding tightly to Hange just kept on calling her name as he held he body tighter to his. In return, Hange had muttered a series of apologies for being selfish and trying to leave him alone. They just stared right there on the floor just holding on to each other muttering apologies and promises that only they will know and remember.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was selfish wanted to escape. I wanted to be free so I left. I’m sorry” Hange continuously said as she buried her face on Levi’s shoulder. Levi in return just stroked her hair as he continuously try to calm her and saying that he was forgiving her.

Soon there were no more tears left to cry and they just sat there in the silence, just the two of them feeling each others warmth. Levi tried to touch Hange’s back when she flinched because some of the burns haven’t dried up yet.

“Sorry.” Levi muttered while Hange just smiled at him and laced her head on his shoulder again. “Does it hurt?” Levi asked as he carefully traced her back.

“No, just sometimes. How about yours?” she asked as she carefully touched his damage eye softly with her fingers the reaching out to place a sullen kiss into it.

“No it doesn’t hurt anymore” he stated as he continued stroking her hair.

“What’s the purpose of this place Hange?” He asked as he stared at her. “I told you that we will live in the forest. I made myself a promise as well that I would run away with you once we both survived, and we did. Welcome to our new home, Levi. That is if you accept.” She explained and stated with a small and embarrassed smile.

“You know I can’t say no to you right four eyes?” He stated as he smiled lovingly at her and reached out to her face. There were no more need for confessions. The two of them already knows it. No more words was to be said for what they have was something that not everybody could have. For what they had was a chance and a miracle.

[dadsbongos]

spiriting

Insert Coin - Chapter 2 / Series Masterlist

Waking up to the cursed sound of Monokuma’s voice, (Y/n) let her body remain in the warm confines of her duvet. Her eyes were heavy and burned whether she had them open or not. Turning, she let her back rest against the mattress, endless stare settled on the ceiling.

Every time she went to close her eyes, Byakuya’s bloody corpse was staring her in the face. His voice festered between her ears as it called her name. Quite possibly the last thing he’d said to anybody was him calling her name for help.

Stabbed over ten times between his abdomen and throat.

It must’ve been excruciating. To be working to bring everyone together only to be brutally murdered in your endeavors.

She can only hope death was quick to lay its merciful hands upon Byakuya’s soul.

And to be boiled alive, even.

A hand came up and over her heart, scrunching up the fabric of her sleepshirt, a new wave of misery banging at her brain as she thought of Teruteru. The Ultimate Cook. No, their Ultimate Chef. The least she could do was honor his wishes in her mind.

To be slathered in slimy batter and caked with breading was a mere inconvenience in comparison to being boiled - being cooked. The heat. The bubbling and popping of your skin as you quickly simmer.

It made her queasy just to think about.

All that pain, all that suffering - brought about by the hands of Nagito Komaeda. The sweet-faced, gentle-smiled boy of luck. The same boy she was planning on meeting in the dining hall.

Sighing through her nose, (Y/n) slowly rose from her bed before swinging her legs over the edge of her bed frame and pushing up to a complete stand. Her body felt like gelatin, mind in a foggy haze as she moved towards her closet, pulling off her makeshift pajamas and trading them in for cleaner versions of the clothes she already had on.

Exiting her cottage, (Y/n) was sure to lock her door before stowing the key away and heading towards the dining hall before anybody sent out a search party for her. The sand crunched under her shoes as she made her way to the dining hall, hopefully, the others had somehow forgotten about the entire night prior. If she could be the only one with the horrid memory of their friends’ deaths, she’d be happy.

Ultimate Peacekeeper and yet she couldn’t even keep two people alive.

Clenching her teeth, (Y/n) shook her head - if she thought like that then she’d be too busy throwing herself a pity party to focus on any of her peers. She reached out to open the dining hall door and stepped inside, and for a split second, her heart picked up at the thought of finding another body.

A corpse laid across the floor and Monokuma’s wretched voice bringing about another body discovery announcement.

Once again, she forcefully shook off her thoughts and pushed forward. Everyone was there. No, two people were missing.

Fuyuhiko, which was no surprise, seemed an avid supporter of being the “lone wolf” of their group. Nagito, on the other hand, was almost never by himself - despite his previous exclamations of being unworthy of a friend, he surely liked the company of the people on the island.

(Y/n) sidled herself up beside Hajime, giving the boy’s side profile a gentle, unnoticed smile - he looked exhausted, “How’re you feeling?”

“Hm,” Hajime flinched at the sudden noise, turning to lock eyes with the mediator, “I feel…” he looked down at his plate sadly, “fine.”

“Alright,” she pat his back, “if you need anything, I’m always available. It’s what I’m here for, Hajime.”

“Right,” the brunette nodded, he let his shoulders droop, defenses falling ever so slightly, “thanks, (Y/n).”

“Of course,” she nodded, looking around the dining hall once again and quirking a brow, “is it just me or… are there people missing?”

Before Hajime could answer her question, Monokuma appeared suddenly inside the cafeteria - frightening a few of the students. Hajime’s brows furrowed, “You can't just pop up out of nowhere like that!"

"Puhuhuhu, but I can!" what a high-pitched drawl, (Y/n) suddenly thought - she’d always been taught that villains have sickeningly deep voices and here Monokuma was, proving her entire life wrong, "I'm here to deliver the next motive!"

"A motive?" Hajime tilted his head in the midst of his confusion.

"It's not that I don't think you all love participating in my super fun killing game or anything..." Monokuma fidgeted, faking a new shy persona, "But, of course, I thought it would be even more fun to give you guys a motive!"

"Well, we've taken care of everything,” Kazuichi immediately rebuffed, “No one is going to kill anymore, no matter what your motive is!"

(Y/n) swung her head to look at the Ultimate Mechanic, “‘Taken care of’, what are you talking about?”

"Whatever you say!" the black-and-white bear waved off, clearly in disbelief of the boy’s words anyway, "If you're interested, there's an arcade machine in Jabberwock Park with a game on it that might have some cool info for you! And that’s as much as you’re getting from me, bye for now!"

"Ooh, fun!" Ibuki blurted out as Monokuma disappeared.

"Fun?” Hajime shook his head, irritation clear on his face, “No! Guys, we absolutely cannot play that game. This is Monokuma's attempt to trap us. Who knows? The game could be filled with lies to get us to kill each other!"

“Hajime’s right,” (Y/n) nodded, “If anyone plays that game, a murder is likely. I know it’ll be hard but we have to do our best to keep alive.”

Hajime could be a good leader. Strong, independent, commanding - a good man. He could be great. Then again, so was Byakuya.

Mahiru looked around and asked the question (Y/n) had before Monokuma arrived, "Wait, where's Nagito?"

Hiyoko giggled, covering her mouth with her hands as she did so, "He's probably too ashamed to show his ugly face around here.”

"No," (Y/n) interrupted, “I don’t think he’d be so self-conscious.”

"Don't worry about it,” Kazuichi waved off, locking his hands behind his head, “He isn't going to bother us anymore."

"What did you do?" (Y/n) pushed herself away from Hajime and toward the mechanic.

"Kazuichi, you probably shouldn't say stuff like that..." Nekomaru’s voice was strange - hasty, as if he was trying to hide something.

"Nekomaru, Kazuichi," (Y/n)’s brows furrowed as she looked between the boys, “Tell me, right now, what did you two do?”

"Well, we..." Kazuichi glanced at Nekomaru, "Took care of him this morning."

"You guys killed someone?" Mahiru exclaimed, face running pale.

"No! What the hell? Of course, not, we didn't do that!" Nekomaru shook his head as if he couldn’t fathom how his suspicious behavior could lead to that conclusion, "We found him on the way here and... tied him up. So he couldn't do anything drastic again! He's on the floor of the room we had the party in, he's- he'll be fine."

"So you guys - without telling anyone - kidnapped Nagito this morning and just left him tied up?" Hajime turned his head between the two, obviously done with the idiots, "Do you understand why that possibly wasn't the most fantastic idea?"

"What were we supposed to do, just let him run around acting like that?" Kazuichi asked, exasperated, "It's fine! He'll live, we just have to bring him food or something once in a while..."

"Now that we're in this mess, it will be difficult to pull us out," (Y/n) crossed her arms, thinking over the situation, “I’ll keep watch over him. I was going to do so anyway, but two people,” she glared directly at the boys of the hour, “decided to act without consulting the group,” as Mahiru prepared a plate, (Y/n) continued, “Just leave Nagito to me, I’ll be a babysitter for him - if anybody has an issue with him, please don’t act on your own until necessary. It could do more harm than good.”

Handing over the plate, Mahiru gave the peacekeeper a nervous smile, "Be careful, okay? Just run outta there if anything weird happens."

“Right,” (Y/n) nodded, taking the plate, “Kazuichi, Nekomaru,” the two hesitantly looked over to her - it felt horribly similar to facing a disappointed parent - she pursed her lips before giving a sympathetic grin, “I get where you two were coming from and I appreciate it, but don’t do something like this again. It’s dangerous.”

The two murmured out their agreements as (Y/n) left.

Crossing from the dining hall to the old building, (Y/n) flexed her fingers as she walked, gut knotting up inside her. Byakuya died there. Her friend, and to some extent, a role model. All because of the man she was going to be spending the rest of their stay at Jabberwock with. She had to. She needed to keep tabs over him if they wanted to avoid something like the party again.

Her hand stopped at the door handle, fingers resting against the cool metal.

She could just let him starve, it’s not like anybody would care. Nobody would check the old building anyway.

Shaking her head, (Y/n) pushed the door open - she’s supposed to be the Ultimate Peacekeeper and she was already dropping the ball with two deaths and a kidnapping. Letting Nagito starve was just a cruel and unusual punishment. An impulsive thought she'd never act on.

And so, putting one foot in front of the other, she continued down the hall Teruteru did. To find Nagito.

[barnesbabee]

terra || S.M || J.Y

Summary: After destroying the Earth the human race has to face their biggest threat yet: themselves.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Song Mingi

Words: wouldn’t you like to know weather boy

Genre: Miscellaneous 

⚠  dystopian!au, mentions of war, violence, mxm ⚠

A/N: Yes I’m back, there will be a part 2 to this, first time doing mxm if someone comes at me with their high morals I’ll just tell you to suck my left nut <3 also this is loosely based on The100 (the second picture is Sanctum lol), it’s based on seasons 1 and 2 (mount weather) I hope you enjoy it please reblog and give me feedback!!

ᴄʀ: ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱʙᴀʙᴇᴇ

[PART 1] || [PART 2]

  The heat and natural catastrophes started rising as the years passed, and all of the nations in the world reunited the greatest people in their country to secretly come up with a solution to the world’s end. Bunkers, artificial planets, space stations… Everything was discussed with great detail, but there seemed to be no answer. 

  Bunkers? How long would the human race have to last in a bunker? Wouldn’t there be a lack of resources? Would the bunkers survive the threats they would be facing?

  There wasn’t enough time to think about an artificial planet, let alone begin to conceive one.

  A space station would have the same problems as a bunker would, with the additional problems of constantly fixing the spaceship with the few resources the race would be able to take with them.

  So, in pure despair, a german scientist blurted out what would become the savior to their lives: cryo sleep. 

  And so after nearly a day of being stuck in the stuffy, stress-filled room the crowd of geniuses and world leaders and began working on the salvation of the human race.

  There wouldn’t be enough space for everyone in the spaceships they’d create, as a matter of fact, why would there be? One would not want to re-populate the earth with the people who destroyed it… So each government made a list, of scientists, biologists, farmers, doctors… Everyone deemed essential for survival on earth. 

  The spaceships would be launched out in space all at the same time, however, every 100 years one would be awoken and would descend down to earth. If it was survivable, they would contact the other spaceships through the communication systems implemented on each ship, if not, they would die and the next ship would come 100 years after.

  And once everything was done and ready to go, a new uproar started. 

  Who would board the first ships, which were, undoubtedly, the most dangerous? How would the groups be divided?

   “The Russians are not boarding after us. What gives them the right!? Are the lives of the Americans less worth it!?”

    Profanities and insults echoed around the gigantic, Victorian room. The delicately sculpted walls and columns, carefully painted high ceilings and classic decorations certainly didn’t match the lack of respect and class of nearly every man and woman present.

   It seemed impossible to reach a consent. Some leaders wanted a spaceship for their people only, as they thought it would agree easily since their mindsets were very similar, and the chances of disagreement would be less. However, others debated that it would be better to have a mixture of knowledge and ways of thinking from different regions. 

   Nonetheless, the wiser populations created an alliance whilst all of them discussed loudly, deciding to leave the most problematic nations go in the first ship. If they didn’t agree they simply wouldn’t board.

   There were twelve ships on what became the Mission Restituimus. Iwen Restituimus, Helles Restituimus, Mosco Restituimus, Quitela Restituimus, Arak Restituimus, Champa Restituimus, Beerus Restituimus and Liquir Restituimus. Each of them named after each of the gods of destruction, as a punishment, as a reminder of what they had previously caused. Destruction upon Earth.

  And so, as cruel as it might have been, all of the leaders and people chosen to go boarded the ships, leaving the rest of the world to die without any help.

  A couple of years past and most of the remaining humans were wiped out. The water level rose, the plants died, and consequently so did the animals. With the lack of food and hydration, the race became weaker, and the last heatwave sent whatever was left of them to a better place.

   100 years passed… 200 years passed… 300 years past… 

    25% of what was left of humanity was wiped out almost instantly as they set foot on the ground. Some being able to survive a couple of days, some a couple of weeks… It wasn’t until Mosco R. that there was a chance for humans. 

   They were alive long enough to determine what wasn’t right with the atmosphere around them and what could possibly be harmful, so they could find a way around it. Months had passed and the crew, that stood on the reviving planet in good health, and they still hadn’t called the rest of the ships. 

   People started wondering why the assigned captain of the team hadn’t made that decision yet.

   “Dr. Vorderbruggen, I feel it is safe for us to call the rest of us down onto Earth.” One of the many geologists aboard asked.

   The tall, skinny woman with permanently disheveled hair took a good look at the male and pushed her thick glasses up her nose.

   “What if we didn’t?” 

    All of the heads present in the room turned to face her in confusion. The woman pulled out a book. One that seemed to have had a life as rough as theirs. She threw it in the middle of the makeshift table they had in the small, unstable shed outside of the spaceship.

    They all looked at it for a second before looking at her, as if saying ‘are we supposed to know by looking at it?’.

    She smirked before speaking, creating an eerie atmosphere that made most of the present people quite uncomfortable.

    “How would you like to have an infinite life?” 

    There was an immediate split reaction in the crowd. Some looked on, interested, and others were reluctant about her words.

    “I had previously been researching a way for humans to live longer, but then the Earth was destroyed. However this past month I’ve been studying it relentlessly and I believe I found a way to keep our conscience alive and our hearts beating forever.” 

    Silence. 

    The silence in the room was heavy. Playing with human life and modifying it was dangerous…

    “But, the bodies… What about the bodies? They’ll get older and eventually rot, won’t they?”

     The scientist walked away from the chair and circled the red button that allowed them to communicate with the other ships with her slim finger.

     “That’s where our colleagues enter. We can’t call them yet because we’ll need their bodies. I’m working on finding out how but I’m so, so close. Of course, I’ll need the help of others and it needs some perfecting and some extra details, but it’s doable. Definitely doable.”

    The geologist that had initially asked looked around. He couldn’t believe people were actually considering taking other people’s bodies for their own sake....

    “But Doctor, won’t that have moral implications? It’s the lives of other people! We can’t kill them for our lives to be perpetuated!”

     She looked towards the man threateningly.

     “Dr. Bankole, what caused the last world to collapse?”

     The man hesitated.

     “Uneducated individuals.” He answered, confidently.

     “Our differences. It was our differences, the divergent ways in which we were raised. There won’t ever be any differences if we maintain our people. There won’t be any wars, there won’t be any conflicts, and we can rebuild our planet. The more people we welcome, the more chance there will be for our demise to begin once more.”

   The geologist refused to accept it. He took a couple of seconds to process her words, before launching himself towards the button in a fit of desperation. The doctor tried his best to save humanity, but unfortunately the crowd who agreed with the woman held him down. She smirked, knowing that her plan would be followed along.

   And so it was. For hundreds and hundreds of years the bodies of the crews who arrived down on Earth would be replaced with theirs. Anyone who disagreed with the plan was executed on sight, as they couldn’t afford to have any conflicts at this point. 

   The new ships who arrived on Earth would always be confused. There were humans? So why hadn’t they been called? But of course, the residents would tell them that there was a malfunction in the system, and before the newcomers could question it or find out about the truth their bodies would be taken to what they called ‘The Ceremony’.

   This went on for centuries and centuries on end, each passing year humanity became more robotic and synthetic. That was, until Liquir Restitiumus: the very last one.

   It came down through the sky loudly, ripping through the atmosphere with immense force. The thrusters cause the small particles of dirt and little bits of rocks to disperse underneath the machine, and, when it finally landed with a violent ‘thud’, the crew stepped out. They all had their fingers crossed, as they didn’t want to be the only ones there. They wished more of them had survived. 

  “Liquir! Brothers and sisters welcome!” 

  Their smiles widened, as they realized they weren’t alone and that Earth was finally habitable. A man, no older than fifty, greeted them. He wore a long, pink tunic decorated with what seemed like gold-painted branches, and a green sash with some letters painted on.

   Yunho, a young philosopher that was among others, frowned. How long had they been among the stars? Had it been only 100 years? The way the man spoke, the way he dressed… It seemed as if they had created a cult in the relatively short amount of time they had been asleep. However, he said nothing. Yunho was more of an observer, he liked to collect information and think, create theories and hypotheses.

    “We were to call you, however one of our people destroyed the mainframe since he disagreed with bringing others over… We are Beerus, the ship just before you, unfortunately no other ships before us survived…” The male lied, as he guided the crowd as if they were their sheep.

   Everyone took the time to listen, wanting to gather all of the information they were missing. 

   After just a couple of minutes of walking they arrived at a rather humble camp. There were small, colourful houses built on top of trees, almost morphing with them had it not been for the flashy colours, and some big buildings on the floor. 

   “The four buildings down here are the storage houses, the hospital and the Hall. Up on the trees are the houses of my people. We decided it would be best to live where less creatures would reach us, but fortunately there aren’t many predators as of right now.”

   “Your… people?” 

   “Yes, me and my wife were chosen as the representatives of our community. She was the commander of Beerus and so we decided unanimously that she should remain in power.”

    Yunho frowned. He thought that the commander of Beerus was a young man… Actually he was pretty sure it was a young man. Yes… He remembered because the male seemed about his age, and he was surprised to see someone as young as him be chosen for the mission. Yunho remembered feeling sad because in another situation maybe they could have been friends, but they were instead being sent to their death (most possibly). 

   Still, he kept quiet.

   “I, Samuel, welcome you to Regnum de Caelo in the name of all of our community. I hope you are able to live happily here. The welcome ceremony is in about a week. We need some time for preparations! We will be taking your sizes for some fitting clothing and we will be running some tests to assign you a position, up until then, feel most welcome, brothers and sisters.”

   The man wasn’t lying. They did need to take their sizes and run some tests, but not for the reasons he had stated. They ran these tests to make sure the new bodies were assigned to the correct person. Some of them only needed new arms, some of them requested bigger legs, and the couple in charge took care of that for their people. 

   Yunho roamed around the strange place. It was home, but it didn’t feel like home. At some point he felt like his cryo chamber was more home-like than this eerie place… It looked like something very creepy that they had splashed some colour on to try their best and conceal the actual appearance of the place.

   “Hello young man.” A woman greeted, as she approached him. 

   She was much smaller, and had thick, black hair, that she moved out of her eyes so she could properly examine the male in front of him. Her clothes were very much like the previous man’s, the only difference being the colour pattern. 

   “Hi.”

   Yunho wasn’t very friendly in uncomfortable situations, and although he tried to shoot her his best smile, he knew he had failed. The woman didn’t seem to care, as she went on and on about how amazing the ‘New Earth’ was. 

   From his periferal, Yunho could see someone peeking at him through the window of the so-called Hall, but he paid him no mind. He was a newcomer, people ought to stare.

   “Ma’am, if you don’t mind me asking, you developed a new whole type of hierarchy in just 100 years?”

   She cocked her head to the side.

   “Yes, we did. Just like on Earth we needed someone whom we trusted and respected to set order and make decisions when needed, so who better than the person we chose as a leader for the ship team?” The lady’s lips were smiling, but her eyes looked dull, even dead.

    Yunho hummed and looked at the ground, pursing his lips and furrowed his eyebrows as he tried his best to recall the launching ceremony. Each commander stood on a pedestal and introduced themselves, as they waited for the crew members to be sorted, 99 to each. He was sure the commander of Beerus was a man and not a woman. That much he knew. Because even though they had been in cryo-sleep for 1200 years, the last thing on his mind before entering the cold capsule was the boarding ceremony. 

    “But I was sure the commander of Beerus was a man-”

    “Annie! I’m sorry I must steal him away, I would like to perform his fitting.” 

    Yunho looked at the male that was gripping his arm. He was able to control his facial expressions, the surprise and confusion, but he was sure that was supposed to be the commander of Beerus…

   The woman gave him a weird smile, as if they were setting him up. As she walked away, the grip on Yunho’s arm grew tighter, and the other man only let go once they were by themselves, in a small room inside the Hall.

    “Are you out of your fucking mind!?”

   Yunho frowned, looking visibly offended at the male’s language choice.

    “Excuse me!?”

    The man took a deep breath and placed his hands on his waist.

    “Stop asking questions. Never ask questions, never doubt them.”

    “Why? What’s going on here is really odd and-”

     “It’s exactly because this place is odd that you need to keep quiet and stop doubting everything. If they think you’re onto them you won’t even make it to the Ceremony.” He explained.

    “I hope you realize I have no fucking idea what’s going on and I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

    The other male stopped in his tracks, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He quickly ran towards the window, made sure no one was outside, and then closed the makeshift blinds. He repeated the process with the small door and then pulled two chairs so the pair could sit down. The man’s antics stressed out Yunho a little bit. In the beginning he was confused, but now he was bordeline scared.

   “I’ll explain it to you. Just listen, ask later.”

   Yunho nodded as his eyes widened, ready for the explanation.

   “My name is Song Mingi, and you’re right. I was, and still am, the commander of Beerus. The crew that you see walking on Earth isn’t my crew, it’s Mosco Restituimus. When we first landed I had the same questions that you did, I kept asking around, I kept trying to understand what had happened. I’m an engineer, I even tried to go into their ship to figure out if they were telling the truth but I was caught. Two guards grabbed me and took me to a weird room, everything here seems makeshift and shitty but that room was oozing with technology that I had never seen. They strapped me down to a chair and put me to sleep. I was scared for my life when I woke up, I had no idea what they would do to me. I managed to escape, fucked up my back in an attempt to bite off one of the weird handcuffs. I freed myself from all of it and I was about to leave but I could hear someone speak at the end of the hallway. ‘Yes, he’s strapped down already and once you’re also secured we’ll begin the transfusion.’ I remember these words perfectly, they scared the shit out of me. I started panicking and sweating, but I decided that pretending I hadn’t escaped would be the best option. I placed the cuffs back in their place without strapping them, and soon enough two men came in. One laid down and I could see the other one strap him down and put him to sleep, just like he did to me. I had to take the chance. I took whatever sharp tool was in the operating table behind me and I stabbed him.” Mingi paused, he looked at Yunho, who seemed a little afraid of the way the man had just casually admitted to murder.

   Mingi proceeded to explain how he interrogated the other man once woke up, and he told Yunho everything. From who these people actually were to the Ceremony. 

   “I felt really nervous once I left the room, I had to pretend like there was a struggle. I told them the transfusion was successful but the other subject struggled and the doctor was killed. They seemed to believe me... After all these years they’ve become icredibly smart, but they fail to recognize many human behaviours, like lying.”

  Mingi could see the panic in the other male’s face growing as he finished his explanation. Before Yunho could stand up and dash, however, Mingi grabbed his shoulders.

    “Why… why are you telling me this!? What the fuck am I supposed to do now!? Did you just live among those people all these years!? How did you even survive-”

    “I had to go through procedures. I didn’t want to, but I don’t hate myself for doing it. It was the only way I could survive until the last ship, which was you, arrived. These people are almost 100% synthetic at this point, every single child that was born was either born dead, or with severe deformities that prevented them to be alive for longer than a couple days. I need help to save everyone. If we don’t take down the previous crew… They’ll take the last one hundred human bodies, and that will be the end.” 

   Yunho clenched his hands and pursed his lips. He was trying his best not to look like he was nervous, but the slight shaking and quivering didn’t help.

   “How many days do we have?” He finally asked, giving Mingi the response he was waiting for.

    Mingi smiled slightly, showing his small crescent eyes, that Yunho wished he could’ve seen in a scenario that wasn’t the possible ending of his kind. 

    “About a week. They like to get to know their future bodies before they make a decision and they also need to prepare for the Ceremony. We have about the same body structure, so it won’t seem suspicious if I walk around with you, they’ll just think I chose you.” 

   Yunho took a deep breath. He had no idea what he was signing up for, but he believed Mingi. The little unexplainable lies he had been told ever since he got here made him doubt this place, he didn’t feel secure, plus, the other male’s explanation made sense. 

   “And what do we have to do? I mean, do you have a plan?”

   Mingi raised an eyebrow at the stupid question.

   “I was here for over one hundred years, do you think I was just making friends?”

    Yunho blushed a little at his admittedly dumb questions. 

    “We have to kill them all.” Mingi told him.

    The male saw it coming. Of course that was it... It’s never just an on and off switch, it’s always war and death wherever they go.

    “I’m in.”

[skellebonez]

Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 7

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link!, Chapter 2 Link!, Chapter 3 Link!, Chapter 4 Link!, Chapter 5 Link! Chapter 6 Link!

Summary: We return to the world outside the Calabash and someone regrets their life choices.

Warnings: Mild accidental self inflicted violence, after effects of the smoke from the last chapter.

Author’s note: A bit shorter than I intended since I was unhappy with how the additions to this chapter flowed and I rewrote them entirely, there are no spoilers for the special (I had removed or edited them into something unrelated) but there will be some allusions to it in the coming chapters.

Chapter 7: Real Feeling Illusion

Mei let out a yell of surprise as she felt cold metal settle into her hands, something that should be familiar but felt brand new despite that.

Her eyes snapped open to green, green and more green, every shade surrounding her as she stared into the gazes of her ancestors. The same judgemental gazes that she had already faced once before.

"Wh-what?"

The only thing that answered her were the glowers and whispers of the dragons above her, sneering, chastising, questioning.

“This has already happened... I’ve already done this...”

----------

"Monkey King!?"

Red Son gasped, eyes opening to a sight he wished to never see again.

"Come to take me? Find me?"

His breathing quickened, shaking his head as he took a step back.

"I will not let that simian abomination triumph again!"

This couldn't be happening again, it had to be a trick of the Calabash. Red Son had to believe it was as he watched his father scream over the screens showing MK and his friends coming closer and heard the whispers of the White Bone Spirit on the wind.

----------

"Hey, kid? You paying attention?"

The voice calling him made MK's blood run cold as his eyes snapped open, a far too familiar derelict dojo greeting his vision. And one very familiar, amused, dark furred monkey.

"No..." MK breathed quietly, holding his staff tighter. "No no, this isn't possible. It can't do this can it?"

"What's wrong?" Macaque asked, spinning a training staff in his hand with an easy friendly smile, practiced he now knew. Practiced to trick him, trap him, get what he wants out of him. It went softer, faker, kinder, and it hurt. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

----------

The air within the Bull Family's current abode was tense, Wukong's words weighing it down heavily. No one dared do more than breathe until the Demon Bull King or Princess Iron Fan reacted first.

While Iron Fan's face had fallen into disbelief and some form of concern, DBK's face was nearly unreadable. Eyes closed, arms crossed, the most emotion showing was the faintest furrowing of his brow.

"Darling?" PIF said softly, running her hand down his face in a soft display of affection that felt odd to watch for the group on the ground.

"I will assist you," DBK offered suddenly, turning to his wife with a soft rumble. "What wi-"

"I am helping," she answered instantaneously, features hardening as she turned back toward Wukong and the rest of the group.

"I should have assumed as much," DBK chuckled out, smiling softly for a split second before his features hardened once again. "I know my son, if you cannot find him then he is either hiding himself and his-" he growled deeply, spitting out the next word like poison. "-friends on purpose, which I doubt he could do for long with you searching of all people, or someone has made the mistake of angering the wrong family."

"Unfortunately we have no reason to assume it is anything but the later now," Wukong said, tone noticeably more relaxed but still more even and businesslike than normal. "This is what we know so far..."

Pigsy breathed out a sigh of relief, albeit the smallest possible any living being could manage, as Wukong began to explain to Red Son's parents in great detail exactly what they had done and what they had learned so far. There was something... off about it, however.

DBK was too calm. Almost... solemnly so. Now, normally he wouldn't be surprised if Iron Fan had been around to keep him calm, but she was hardly doing anything but sitting on his shoulder and talking to him in a hushed voice. Pigsy didn't know him all that well but every single time he had interacted with him, and from some stories from Wukong's younger days, he had always had a temper that put Red Son's fiery one to shame.

"Pigsy?" Tang said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder for a moment before frowning and squeezing it gently. "What's on your mind?"

"Somethin' ain't right here," he said with a shake of his head. "Somethin' really ain't right. Wukong can tell too, look at his tail. It's all puffed up on the back. Those two are hiding somethin' from us.” He turned to Sandy, who silently nodded in agreement.

Tang hummed softly, his grip on the pig demon’s shoulder tightening past gentle reassurance to a grounding firmness. “I trust your judgement, Pigsy. Let’s hope we can trust Wukong’s too, ok?”

Pigsy nodded himself, reaching up to grasp the scholar’s hand in a firm grip as they watched on from the sidelines still, waiting for anything to happen now. They didn’t have to wait too much longer before a gust of wind rushed past them and lifted PIF of her husband’s shoulder, setting her on the ground to the side of the two men.

“I will see what I can do with the equipment Red Son has left behind,” she said firmly, standing tall and looking all the more like a leader to an army than anything else at the moment. “While the Bull Clones will not likely be of any help, he left enough that should at least prove somewhat useful for a more delicate mission.” She frowned for a moment, looking up at her husband. “And... tell them. It might help.”

DBK startled, looking down at his wife with wide eyes. Now that was a look Pigsy had never seen on his face before. “Are you sure?”

“You and I both know that is the sole reason we need to find our son,” she said, frown deepening for just a moment before she wiped all expression from her face and allowed the wind to carry her off deeper into their hideout.

Now everyone was just confused, looking at the hulking demon lord as he scowled and ran a hand down his face. He turned to look at the group, taking them all in before focusing on Wukong again with a growl deep in his throat. “I had hoped we could convince him to return of his own accord and you would not find out about this,” he said with a deeper growl, scowling down at the Monkey King before sighing and seeming to relax ever so slightly. “But now... it has been so long I am doubting that is even possible now.”

“What are you talking about?” Wukong asked with a raised brow, fur bristling more noticeable as he tensed. “We knew you had been trying to get him to come back to your side.”

“Do you know why he left?” DBK continued, scowling even deeper than before. “Did you ever wonder why he chose to go to you?”

“...No,” Wukong admitted after a while, dropping his arms down to his sides. “I wanted to say that yeah we did, and no that doesn’t matter, but he’s never exactly been open about what made him come to Flower Fruit Mountain that day. Why?” He narrowed his gaze, watching the larger demon closely. “Wait... wait, you don’t mean-”

“Oh yes,” DBK said flatly, the sound of his teeth gritting together reverberating through the room and making everyone wince. “Ever since the Lunar New Year festival, Wukong. And it backfired spectacularly.”

----------

“Let!” Thunk. “Me!” Thunk, a cough. “OUT!” Thunk. “AGH!” Crack. “FUCK!”

Jin let out a screech of pain as he felt something in his hand give way, a knuckle or maybe a full finger bone. It didn’t matter either way, in only a few seconds it had fixed itself just as painfully as it had broken and left him with a fully intact hand for the third time.

“You’re one sick fox lady, you know that?” He yelled into the air, scowling even more as he changed tactics to attempting to kick himself out of containment. Trapped in what appeared to be the same little room he had left Yin in when he last saw him.

He may have the appearance of the Monkey King at the moment, and it may have given him access to some of his powers because of that, but physically he knew he was still Jin. The Gold Horned Demon. Not Sun Wukong, The Handsome Monkey King and The Great Sage Equal to Heaven. The Calabash itself knew this, could only go so far in the illusion, and not having breakable bones was apparently outside of the abilities of his and his brother’s device. Though he knew he was not actually being hurt, physically, everything that happened here was an illusion.

A very real feeling illusion. Unlike... unlike what could be happening to Yin...

At the thoughts of his brother in possible peril, Jin sighed, stopping his assault on the door to sit down on the makeshift cot they had been relegated to. He felt his tail (still a new and odd sensation to know he had one that moved of its own accord) drop down beside him, looking as deflated as he felt.

What if Princess Jade Face was hurting Yin? What if she had already hurt him? Was she using the new smoke on him as well or the sleeping smoke? His mind rushed through thought after thought of what she could do to hurt his brother while he wasn’t there to protect him... not that he had been doing a good job of it in the first place, all this being his fault in the first place.

He coughed again, throat aching from the after effects on whatever the new smoke was. His eyes burned and his head swam in lightheaded weightlessness. He wondered if it was supposed to hurt like this or if it was the combination of smokes, wondered if the trio trapped alongside him was feeling this or none or even worse. He wondered if they were safe.

“Safe?” He asked himself with a scowl. “Don’t tell me you’re actually giving a damn about those three outside of surviving yourself, me.”

He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to wonder what that meant. The only people he worried about were his brother first and then himself. And he would get the hell out of here, broken hands or legs or not.

[commonwealthoccurences]

Now Sleep (It’s Not Even Light Out)

TW: Description of wounds, throwing up mention, many corpse descriptions (and not the YouTuber), funeral description. Overall very death centered and angsty.

Word Count: 4,298

Prompt: Character Death

Day: 9/27

Song Listened To While Writing: The Moment I Said It by Imogen Heap

Arrogant. That’s how Preston would look back and describe himself years later, despite Nick shaking his head in disagreement and Deacon huffing a disbelieving laugh in response. He was arrogant, though. With Sole by his side he found himself feeling invincible with the entire world in front of him; terrified about what could happen but finally believing they could change the world together, if only Sole would give him the chance to help them.

Selfless. That’s how Preston would look back and describe Sole. They’d walked into the fight with so little other than their wit and bravery and returned on a makeshift stretcher, made of a piece of scrap wood, four Minutemen carrying them, solemn. Their hats were tipped forward to hide their swollen eyes and the hopelessly lost expressions on their faces.

He hadn’t even noticed it at first. There was a sea of dead after their fight with the Institute; brave soldiers of a wide range of ages, their faces all far too young to be part of a funeral parade through the main street of Sanctuary. Yet when someone stepped forward and they stopped in front of him, he very quickly went from naïve confusion to horror. They never stopped in front of him; he had no family left other than the distant bond he formed with every settler. There could only be one reason that they’d pause for him, as they did when returning the dead to their loved ones. All had been lost.

Preston looked between the front soldier’s faces for an explanation. He refused to accept that they were returning a body to him, the body of the one person he had left to look up to, the one person he could let his guard down in front of. When they pulled back the sheet on their face and revealed his nightmare to be true, he simply bowed his head and gritted his teeth. Compartmentalization was his specialty. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, trying to stop the way the dirt spun below his boots, the way the world began to turn on it’s side. 

Instead of throwing everything to the wayside and collapsing, as he so wanted to, Preston simply gathered himself and looked up, far calmer than he should’ve been, and moved to the side to allow the Minutemen to carry them into their home for the last time. Someone should’ve seen the way he refused to show any emotion, the way his fists clenched at his side before relaxing and the grief flushing to the back of his mind, and raised the alarms. A person in mourning wailing was normal; the way Preston simply lifted his head and continued on was certainly not.

There was more lost than Sole, however, and the community was too busy mourning the rest. Preston had a decision to make. Did he wait to announce what had happened to Sole? He wasn’t sure they could take the news straight after they had been led into what was essentially a high-tech slaughter. They had already lost family. A loss of leadership would jar them even more hopeless. The world was still spinning and nausea rose from his stomach to his chest, the feeling of acid climbing his throat overwhelming as he stood in the cool breeze. 

Leaves danced in the light wind, swaying back and forth under the soft, blue sky. It was too bright, far too bright. Preston gathered what was left of him, the will to fight that had landed at his feet with the image of Sole cold on the board, the strength he had left to lead scattered somewhere down the street by the same wind, and turned to head inside. To join Sole.

The Minutemen who had carried them in were now posted at the door, heads bowed in respect to Sole, their rifles held straight up and down in front of them. Preston wanted to shout at them, drive them away and tell them to find somewhere else to take up space where he didn’t have to look at them and realize how badly he had failed to protect them, the soldiers and Sole themself, but he didn’t have the heart. Sole had been a symbol of hope, he knew that better than anyone. How was he supposed to be so cruel when they had brought them home?

Preston crossed the room with quiet footsteps, as if he were trying not to wake them. He didn't even have the mind to correct himself internally. It was so much easier to imagine them simply peacefully asleep, despite the fact that they had been positioned with their hands crossed over their chest. He could tell from the way the sheet fell over their body, and that made him glance around for the nearest trash can. Was it real? None of this could be real. He had to throw up. He was going to throw up. 

Once he reached their side and sank to the floor next to them, he felt the urge to remove the sheet. It didn't look right; the Minutemen only covered their dead in sheets, out of respect, and there was no way Sole was dead. They couldn't be dead. He reached down with a trembling hand and peeled back the sheet slowly. What greeted him confirmed his worst fears and he lurched to the side, grasping onto the metal bin that sat in the corner, and hacked up whatever he had eaten last.  

There was a smattering of bullet holes in their stomach and chest. The blood had seeped into the wood under them, staining it a dark red-brown and dyeing parts of their hair the murky color. It wasn't right. Somewhere near the doorway he heard sniffling; so the other Minutemen had broken down, too? Shame crept up his face, hot and overwhelming. Some leader he was. He hated himself, for letting them get killed and for letting the soldiers see him lose himself like this.  

When did he start crying? He wasn't crying. He wasn't sure where the dampness on his cheeks had come from, but it wasn't his fault. He had no reason to cry; they weren't dead. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and was forced to curl in on himself, hands braced on his knees for support by a wrenching sob that nearly cracked his ribs in two. Some part of him wished it would, that it would shatter him into tiny pieces and someone would come in and sweep up everything that had held him together and he could forget about the rest of the world and simply not exist anymore. 

Selfish, he scolded himself. He shifted his hand to reach over and straighten their dog tags where they sat between their collarbones when he noticed something clutched in their hands. A piece of paper poked out between their fingers, protected on either side of their palms from the blood that stained everything near them. Mindlessly, he noted that someone would have to throw out the rug their stretcher had been placed upon. One of the Minutemen by the door spoke up, throat clogged, sounding no better than Preston felt. "They, uhm, survived long enough to relay some last words. Said they wanted you to read it and that you would tell the people what you felt they needed to know." 

Preston tried to suck in air but it simply wasn't coming. Last words? He hadn't accounted for that. Something told him not to read it, that if he didn't he didn't have to accept what had happened and they would sit up, pouting jokingly, asking him why he wouldn't play along. He stared down at their chest and the way it failed to rise. So still, like if he held himself in place it would look like an old photograph. Them, in the living room together, so still.

His hands were trembling so badly he couldn't even aim properly to shift their hands. If he touched them, would they be cold? He knew what the dead felt like; God knows he'd watched enough people die, buried enough of the people he cared about, that he knew what there was to know about dead bodies. But Sole? They didn't belong in that category. He couldn't imagine them as anything but warm and welcoming. There was no way they could be cold and limp. Empty. Lifeless. But the warmth that usually resided in their cheeks was no longer there, instead replaced by a smearing of blood. Preston shuddered.  

Once again, he reached out. This time he would get it right; he'd fucked up enough, the least he could do was read their last words to him. With a harsh swallow he touched their hand and nearly cried out at the feeling. They were cold as ice; this may be their body but it wasn't them.  Trying not to hyperventilate, Preston shifted their hand and took the folded piece of paper slowly from their grasp, trying so hard to ignore the way it simply fell from their clutch. 

Preston,

Who knew it would end like this? I told myself over and over as we prepared to infiltrate that after the Institute was gone, we would have all the time in the world. I suppose I was wrong. It wouldn't be the first time, but you know that already.

I won't get into the ugly details, cause that's not why I'm having this written. I do know that the Minutemen like their records, though, and considering I don't think any of us are going to make it out of here, I suppose this is the next best thing. Everything went according to plan at first. We got more people out that we thought we would; X6 included. Thank God. On the way out, though, someone managed to get a shot on me. 

The ink was smeared, or maybe Preston’s vision was going hazy with tears. Maybe it was both. The paper was rattling quietly as his hands continued to shake, and he swallowed the lump in his throat with a bitter clenching of his jaw. Why wasn’t everyone paying better attention? How was the leader of the Minutemen not better protected? Why did it have to be them?

Johnson helped me into the nearby storage area and we have a few others standing guard; Morrison and Crane, but we're low on ammo. I know I'm not making it out of here. We can't get to the teleporter without others taking out the synths that have found it and are waiting nearby, but I'm bleeding fast. 

So I suppose it's time for my on-the-record last words. Thank you, Preston. I need you to know that none of this was your fault, and that I'm simply grateful that I've lived long enough to see this to the end. I have no doubt that you're doing the best you can, and as usual, your best is phenomenal. There is no one I'd rather have known. No one I'd rather have had by my side through everything. I have no regrets other than wishing I could see you before it all ends. 

I have to ask that you go easy on yourself. I know you do your best to take care of everyone around you, to be the pillar of support, the courageous leader that never wavers, but it's going to kill you. No one can live how you're making yourself live. You're allowed to be human, Preston.  

I'd also like to add that I'm sorry. I know that my inheritance is the heaviest to receive; the role of leader. Are you ready to be General, Preston? Probably not, and for that I'm sorry, sorry that we couldn't do this slowly, easily. But no one can do things better than you can, and I believe in you. Just remember that a leader has to be taking care of themself as well for the community to thrive. You told me that, remember? You're right. Please take your own advice. 

And, if you’ll be so kind as to keep this off the record, I hope I'm not getting ahead of myself, but I'm sorry we didn't have more time. I told myself that when this was all over and the threats were mostly gone, well, as gone as they could be in the wasteland, I would tell you how I felt. How shitty of me, to leave you with this burden as well, but I suppose I can't take it back now that it’s been written down. Morrison's laughing at me. Apparently everyone knew but us, go figure. I suppose we both were a little blind to everything that didn't involve work. 

Take care of yourself. Ask for help, even though it's your least favorite thing in the world. Give yourself time. Tell Dogmeat I said goodbye, and I love him, and everyone at Sanctuary that I miss them already. That it was an honor to serve them. Tell Deacon to stop smoking, and Nick too, just for the principle of it. Tell X6 he’s braver than he knows and he’ll get through the adjustment period, no matter how uncertain it is. I will see you again in another life, I swear to you. It was the greatest honor to know you, Preston Garvey.

I love you.

There was a smudge of blood on the page, he realized, after rereading it the fifth time. Sole’s, probably. He wanted to laugh at the sheer horror of it all, for lack of a better reaction; he’d run out of tears the third time he’d read their last words. Was it theirs, before they died? Or was it someone else's? Had they survived long enough to get caught by the synths? Had they bled out just before help had arrived? Was there a chance, at all, for them to survive?

Preston had so many questions left for them. He wanted to know how they could believe in him when he hadn’t been there to save their life, despite the countless times they had saved him. Somewhere, in the depths of his mind, he knew it was impossible for him to have done anything, that he was on the other side of the teleporter making sure that things ran smoothly. That if he had tried to help them he would’ve been shot dead the moment he stepped through the portal. But he hated himself for not being there as they drew their last breaths.

He folded the paper back up as carefully and neatly as he could and pressed it into his palm. How he wished the letter was at least in their handwriting. Did someone at least hold them as they passed? Or were they left leaned up against a cold Institute wall, the very culmination of the worst their world had to offer? If the others in the room survived, he didn’t think he’d ask them. He was afraid of the answer.

If only it was Preston in their place. Sure, he didn’t exactly want to die, didn’t seek it out, but it was better than Sole going. He’d done his part, made the effort to get the ball rolling for repairing the Minutemen. But the Minutemen needed Sole like children needed their parents. He would’ve died, alone, and been okay with it. A hero’s death, but a hero insignificant enough that it wouldn’t have broken the Minutemen. If only it was him.

He leaned over them, still clutching their last words like a lifeline, and pressed a kiss to their forehead, trying his hardest to ignore the way his falling tears collected bits of the dried blood on their skin and began washing it away. They deserved to be buried looking less like how they died and more like who they were when they were alive. “Can I…” He began, his voice cracking and barely audible. “Can I get some water? And a cloth?”

The Minutemen didn’t move, but footsteps shuffled around the house regardless. Someone had entered while he was repeating their letter over and over in his head like a mantra. When he looked up as the bowl of water and cloth were placed next to him, he met eyes with X6-88. At first, a flash of rage and hatred flooded through him. Maybe if they hadn’t met him and believed there was more for him and subsequently gone to find the Railroad, Sole would still be alive. Then he was calm. At least he had lived. At least their last mission had been successful. That’s what they would’ve wanted.

X6-88 stepped back, steps whisper quiet, and folded his hands behind his back as he stood nearby, looking straight ahead. Sole had said he would have trouble adapting to the outside world, understanding what it was like to be a regular settler in the Commonwealth, but something about his actions was familiar. He was hiding in his own mask of emotionlessness. He was doing his best to cope.

Preston braced himself for the next steps and reminded himself that this was the best thing for Sole. It didn’t matter how he felt right now, it was about Sole’s dignity and the way they deserved to go. With a shaky breath he dipped the cloth in the water and brushed it over their forehead, wiping away the blood that had long made itself home where it didn’t belong. When he dipped the cloth back down and began to ring it out, he swallowed bile again at the way it turned a light pink.

Slowly, he peeled back more of the sheet and washed away the blood on their skin. Their overshirt was still stained with blood; he’d have to get them a new shirt and wrap their wounds so they wouldn’t bleed through again. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that, but there was some time before they’d have to announce Sole’s death and prepare them for a funeral. God, he was tired of funerals. He’d seen more than he could remember off the top of his head, a list a mile long, stretching out and wearing him thin.

After a moment of holding the cloth against their forearm, unable to continue as the cloth and water turned muddy red, he felt someone grip his hand. When he looked up X6-88 was kneeled neatly on the other side of Sole’s body, his other hand upturned and open, silently asking to take over. “Ask for help” Sole’s words echoed in the back of his head, their voice reverberating in a way that was so hauntingly them. Would there be a day when he could no longer remember what their voice sounded like?

Preston dropped the cloth into X6’s hand with a grateful nod and sat back, collapsing from how he had been kneeling onto the floor. There was blood on his hands and wrists, blood brushed up his forearms from where he had just barely touched them while cleaning. He wanted to scratch the skin underneath off, rip it apart with his fingernails until there was no trace left of their blood or himself.

Silently, the world continued to spin. X6-88 calmly resumed his task of cleaning Sole’s cold skin, gentler than he had ever been before. Perhaps it was his way of grieving; removing all traces of the Commonwealth and what it had done to them from them. Preston had his back against the wall, silently suffocating with his head in his hands, tears dripping down onto the floor below him. The two guards remained stock still and silent, also silently weeping, their heads raised in pride. At the way the Minutemen would continue despite yet another catastrophic loss. At the way their General had sacrificed so much to give them what they couldn’t have.

Outside, the rest of the world fell silent. There were others to mourn, so many others, and they had left behind families as well. The four inside the room with Sole needed time, and so they let the news wait for another day, with Sole sleeping peacefully on their stretcher, covered in a new, clean shirt and sheet.

Word had been sent out to Deacon, Valentine, and Piper rather quickly. They’d been added to the Minutemen radio long ago, just in case, at Sole’s orders, so it wasn’t hard. They made the trip to Sanctuary in record time, arriving with solemn faces and for Piper, swollen eyes. The trio had remained resolute in their need to keep a brave face until they went down like dominos.

Piper went first, letting out a sob as soon as she saw Sole’s body, turning away and hiding her face in Nick’s shoulder. Deacon rested a hand on her shoulder and simply stared down at Sole, their eyes shut, skin now clean. Nick patted her back and held her up when Preston began reading Sole’s last words with a wavering voice. Deacon went second, choking on grief when Preston recited, “Tell Deacon to stop smoking, and Nick too, just for the principle of it.” He wasn’t one to cry, but God did the situation make for exceptions.

Nick went last. Despite the fact that he couldn’t cry, when he left the house to get fresh air after the letter was read, he threw his hat at the side of the house and collapsed to a crouch, pressing his hands against his face. No one looked each other in the eyes; it would’ve been more than a breaking point, it would’ve caused them all to shatter apart.

The funeral was put together rather quickly after the announcement was made to the rest of the settlers that their General had made one of the biggest sacrifices to protect them. Preston stood on the podium, X6-88 standing just behind him with his hands still folded formally behind his back, head bowed, and read out the list of losses, Sole’s name at the very end. Nick had written a eulogy, but the words blurred together. Preston stopped paying attention to the world around him once he was down from the podium.

It was a military-style funeral. They did their best to make sure all high-ranking Minutemen officials had one, but this was the first time in a while that it was put together so well. Sole deserved nothing but the best. Sturges had been kind enough to stay up through the night to put together a makeshift coffin for them, the best that they could do, and Deacon had taken his anger at the world out on digging their grave. Nick had taken Piper away so she didn’t have to watch and picked flowers with her to go on Sole’s chest before they were lowered into the ground.

Everything came together in a sickening blur, but the world allowed them a small reprieve. The burial went well. A large crowd gathered in the fields of Sanctuary, heads bowed grimly, as they listened to Sole’s companions tell stories of their adventures, their shining personality, and their generous heart. When the row of Minutemen fired their rifles into the air Preston didn’t even flinch; he was too used to it. Somehow, he made it up to the grave to take part in shoveling one scoop of dirt onto their casket, but after that it was black.

The next time he became aware of himself was in the main house, where he was reclined in one of the chairs, Sole’s dog tags pressed to his lips in thought. Nick was still somewhere around, cursing the fact that he was incapable of sleeping, Piper passed out in one of the back rooms from emotional exhaustion. Deacon had vanished into thin air, as he often did. Preston wouldn’t be surprised if they never saw him again, and he couldn’t blame the other man; he was feeling the urge to run very far away right about now, too.

The cold metal was grounding against the skin on his face and he took in a deep breath, closing his swollen eyes. Maybe if he was lucky the universe would grant him a moment's rest, and he would wake up the next morning to Sole rapping their knuckles against his door, teasing him for accidentally sleeping in on them. But they never left their dog tags behind, no matter what. No, it was real. They were gone. And it was sure to haunt him for the rest of his life.

Three years later, it was a hushed topic for anyone to ask a question about the fact that General Garvey wore two pairs of dog tags around his neck. He was a good man, kind, but it was obvious something had changed him to the new settlers; he was quiet, his face drawn and bordering grim at all times. No one had really seen him laugh, which was a shame, because many commented that there seemed to be a light in the depths of his eyes that was begging to come back out. Not to mention the way his second in command glared when someone tried to ask what had happened.

Every July 4th he visited a lone grave in the middle of the fields and rested bouquets of flowers all around and changed out the Minutemen’s flag that hung off the cold stone. He sat, the entire day, undisturbed by the settlers who merely stopped and stared at a distance out of curiosity, in silence. At the end of the day, when the sun had just dipped below the horizon, his second in command would join him in the field and place a hand on his shoulder.

“Preston,” X6-88 would say. “It’s time to get some rest.”

[softysuho]

pretty boy & zombies

pairing: yunho x reader

summary: In the year 3013, the government unleashed their first wave of "natural selection". They took out elderly by offering a vaccine that was told to prevent further sicknesses and stated that it was mandatory. After the elderly were wiped from the earth, phase two was put into action. There they unleashed a monster. The government started the zombie apocalypse in hopes that the elite human race would show itself.

word count: 1.9k (a/n its been awhile and this is lowkey shit, I also can't figure out how to put "keep reading" in with the new Tumblr update, but I hope you all enjoy this drabble💖)

It was day like every other day, humid and way too hot for any sort of physical activity. The small house you sit in does little to keep the warm weather out, it was a cute place from what was left. There had been an old couple in here prior, from what you gathered. They looked cute and happy in the photos that were scattered across the walls. Most of the food leftover had gone bad, but they did have a decent amount of medical supplies. 

You sighed as you thought back to your home, your parents and your little baby sister. It was hard to keep track of the days you have been without your family, four or five months maybe. Your college days were long behind you now, no more parties, no more all nighters doing homework. Everything had been taken from you. 

On an average day supply run, you can still see the tall billboards, promising a better future. The face of the man who decided to play God and Mother Nature. What bullshit. You wondered if he is dead now, if the zombies got to him like they did to everyone else in the towns. 

One could only hope. 

As for other survivors out there, you know that there are some sharing the near city with you. One day stores could have shelves of food and the next day there seems to be half. Although you haven’t crossed paths with any. Who knows if they would be friendly. 

Maybe they’d put you out of your misery. 

Most days that sounded nice. To be able to join your family in the afterlife. Somedays you knew you didn’t want to die, the fear of what comes next after death chilled your bones. You certainly don’t want to feast off human guts and brains for the next eternity. What if the undead are still the people they were before? Maybe they can only watch themselves turn into a monster.  

As you were running low on filling meals, left with light snacks, you decided it was best to into the deeper parts of the city. It was risky, considering it used to be the most populated, but desperate times come to desperate measures.

You grabbed your gear and your sharp machete and adjusted your makeshift armor straps before taking off. Staying low in the tree was one of the safer moves, taking the longest way into the city in hopes of avoiding hordes. The nature was a beautiful sight, the refreshing smell of pine and the distant trickling of water. Normally it'd be calming if you didn't have to fear the undead lurking.

You wondered if nature would begin to go back in time, before the greedy human fingers that destroyed their beauty. However, you wondered if there would be any animal left once the zombies come and eat them as well. One could only hope they'll be okay.

As the trees began to thin out, you could see the city that used to home to many. The streets were covered in half eaten corpses, trash from the chaos and blood. In the beginning, this sight had you emptying your stomach in a near by bush, 10 deep breaths and one 'you can do this'. These days though, it was just the normal sight you'd become accustomed to.

Normally, these trips would be to the same grocery store you've been too for the last few months. You knew these roads now, and every nook and cranny on the way there. But today was different. You were tired of looking like you just crawled out of an old ladies closet, no offense to her. So you decided to head towards one of the stores with both clothing and food. Hopefully you'd find a new blanket to take as well.

There was a light pep in your step as you made your way there, a small amount of excitement you haven't felt in a long time at the thought of some new clothes. You wondered what else there would be there besides what you need and that thought was fun to think about. So similar to what would've went through your head before the destruction of humanity.

You stuck close to the walls of the tall buildings, trying to be as quiet as you could. You couldn't afford to risk being caught now, out in the open by the dead before you even had a chance to see how bad the rest of the city really was.

What you didn't realize, though, was how lost you were in your thoughts. You inched closer to that dark alleyway you would've avoided originally, one that could hide several lurking bodies within.

It was too late by then, a large and warm hand covered your mouth as an arm wrapped itself around your torso. Alarm bells were going off in your head, slowly realizing that you had to escape before you met your doom. Tears were threatening to spill from your eyes, praying to whatever was out there to let you live for another day.

"Would you shut up? I'd rather not regret saving your ass." It was a harsh whisper against your ear, but it did its job as you calmed in the unknown (hopefully) humans arms. "You were being followed." This time the voice was soft, hand finally falling away from your mouth to pull you closer and further into the darkness.

Only then did you notice the scuffing of feet and deep voices. You could tell they weren't far, and they clearly would've seen you walking alone at some point. A thousand 'thank yous' raced through your head towards the person behind you and you could only hope they could feel how thankful you were. You turned to look towards the stranger, only seeing that is was a male who was taller than you. Or at least, thats what you assumed.

The two of you stayed within the alleyways darkness even after the group walked past and out of ear shot. You heard a breath of relief behind you, followed by a brief brush of shoulders. As the man peered out from the darkness, you saw the messy mop of black hair and a quarter of his face. Inching closer to the man, your eyes popped over his shoulder and scanned for any signs of movement. When you both deemed it safe, he motioned you with his fingers and brought you in the opposite direction of the group.

"The hell were you doing out in the open like that?" He said above a whisper. However you were shocked by the way his eyes sparkled in the sunlight, simply managing a small shrug. He rolled his eyes at you in response, "I'm Yunho.. I've been living in that upscale apartment complex a ways down for about a month, and I swear I've seen everyone who is left around here. You're new?"

You scoffed lowly and looked over your shoulder. Why was he telling you this? Did he want to take you back and murder you for supplies? "I've been living in the woods, there was a farm a little ways out and I've only stuck to the store on that side of town."

Yunho hummed, seemingly lost in thought. He didn't seemed too beat up for being out here alone, not like you at least. There were scratches on your arms from shrubbery as well as old blood from a run in with the dead. Yunho was handsome and from the glimpses of his smile, you could tell it was bright.

You had been walking side by side for awhile now, going into the town deeper than you ever had been. The building were getting taller, more expensive and grand. First floor windows were either boarded up or broken, probably either hiding or stealing. You could picture the busy streets, the high class fashion of the upper working class.

"If you've been here for a month, how come you haven't tried to make friends?" You said softly, looking up at Yunho curiously.

"I had ran into the leader about two weeks ago," He scratched his head, looking from side to side while he kept an eye out. "It was fine at first, we made small talk in one of the stores." Yunho pointed behind him and rolled his eyes, "Somewhere back there, I don't remember. We talked for awhile before one of his buddies came in and claimed he could see a bite mark.. All hell broke out after, but I snuck out the back."

You rose your brows and patted him on the shoulder. "His buddy sounds like a real winner."

When you reached the building, you were pretty amazed at the shape it was left in. There was only one window that was broken, leaving the rest of them untouched. "I don't think anyone attempted to stay here so it was pretty much abandoned." Yunho smirked to himself and took a deep breath before he opened the front doors. "After you, ma'am." He bowed and gestured for you to take a step indoors. You gaped at the interior, if you thought hard enough you could see this place lit up and running as it should. The fountain glowing as the clear water fell into each bowl, grand chandeliers brightening the room. Your face was stuck, awestruck with a small smile. You wished you could've saw everything work in action or had the opportunity to stay a night here with room service.

"Woah.." You whispered when an arm was thrown around your shoulder.

"Wanna go room hunting with me? I've only been to the first five floors." Yunho whispered back as, he too, studied the hotel lobby. Pursing your lips, you shrugged and looked up at Yunho. Studying his features for a few brief moments. He was, indeed, very handsome.

Yunho watched you from the corner of his eye, his lips twitching into a smile. As fast as he could, Yunho turned his whole head to catch you in the act. The smile turning into a giant smirk. "See something you like?" He spoke first, head cocking to the side. "It's okay, I see something I like as well." A wink was sent your way, causing a blush to cover your features.

"Shut up," You joked, side eyeing him before your elbow met his ribs. He chuckled at you and took your hand to pull you to the stairs. "Find me some nice clothes and I'll reward you with a treat." Instead of your voice giving off a confident tone, it came out small and squeaky, leading your blush to darken a tenfold.

"Oh? And what is the treat? I think I should know before doing what I'm told."

"Guess it depends on how well you do."

After several hours of searching, jokes and excitement from not expired food, Yunho was able to come up with a nice sturdy set of blue jeans, a pair of leggings, some new combat boots, three shirts and one giant ass hoodie. He looked at you with wide and innocent eyes, silently asking you for his treat.

With a long sigh, you plopped yourself down on the couch and gestured him to come closer. As soon as he was within arms reach, you gripped his shirt and pulled him down on top of you. "Y/n.. you can't have my shirt." He said with a shit eating grin.

"Just shut up and kiss me."

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 7: Resignation

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4200

Rating: R (language only)

Summary: Thirty hours since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: What day of the week is it even? Oh well, here’s a chapter, hahaha. This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

“My fellow Cordonians, it is with a heavy heart that I speak to you today.”

His words echoed in his mind, over and over again, his speech something that was likely to stay burned into his mind for the rest of his life. After all, he couldn’t predict anything quite as memorable as having to announce his loss of title to his citizens and the world at large happening to him at any point in the future.

“I never anticipated having to bring this news to you, but even though I am no longer King of Cordonia, I have no intention of yielding the power of the crown to anyone who I feel is a threat to the safety and prosperity of this country.”

Stefan was following the media coverage of his speech that he gave this evening that provided an overview of the day’s events, including his removal from the throne, Bridget’s ascension to queen-regent until the Conclave, and his intention to name a regent for her tomorrow. Liam knew he personally should be watching to see how people were responding, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do so. His emotions were frayed, raw, and strung out. It felt like everything was spiraling out of control. He hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. Not since Father died, in all honesty.

The weeks surrounding his father’s death were sort of covered in a surreal blur whenever he reflected back on them. Not only had his relationship with Father been more complicated and fraught than it had ever been before at the time of his passing, making his loss a thorny storm of emotions, but he’d barely even had time to mourn in any capacity. His country had been in the midst of an active terrorist threat, plus he’d been processing true heartbreak for the first time in his life. He had somehow gotten through those days, those emotions, those struggles though. He knew he would get through everything happening now as well, but at the moment, that seemed like an impossible task.

“I know that this is an unprecedented combination of events, comparable to nothing that has occurred in hundreds of years of Cordonian history. But I have seen the strength and resilience of our citizens first-hand, and I am confident that we will emerge from this Social Season stronger than ever.”

As far as next steps went, naming Rashad as Bridget’s regent was really his only option. Thankfully, in spite of the man’s ambivalence when it came to his noble title, he’d agreed to fill the role and was coming to the hearing in the morning to allow for a rapid transfer of power. He was one of the only truly neutral parties available who was appropriately titled and qualified. Liam had brought Hana with him to broach the topic with Rashad, but her gentle powers of persuasion proved unnecessary. The only point at which the conversation was anything but pleasant and agreeable was when Rashad wanted to schedule a meeting with Riley and Drake to discuss how best to handle legal and physical custody of Bridget in ways that would be in accordance with the results of the no-confidence vote, but Liam had been easily able to convince him to table that topic until he was sworn in as regent.

“No matter my title or role, know that I will always serve the citizens of Cordonia in whatever way they require.”

He half-heartedly pulled more documents from his desk drawers, trying to focus on the task at hand. He needed to determine which pieces of information were private, and should come with him to Lythikos, versus those that he needed to leave behind as essential information to allow Cordonia’s next leader to govern. In all honesty, he probably should be creating a sort of quick-guide, a makeshift introductory pamphlet with the most important pieces of information required to lead the country to ease the transition of power. However, another part of him felt like that would be a mistake. Maybe he should allow things to be rough initially, giving the people a chance to miss his leadership. It’s not like Rashad was completely incompetent, so it shouldn’t cause a dangerous power vacuum if he just left Rashad without any formal instructions. And, after all, didn’t a no-confidence vote indicate he shouldn’t be attempting to wield any power at the moment? If this was the wish of the majority of the major houses, maybe he should just let their little scheme play out and backfire on them in spectacular fashion. But was it fair to subject the common citizens to engage in such a game of political chicken?

A wave of loneliness and isolation washed over him as he weighed his options. This dilemma was just one of many he was facing at the moment that he wished he could discuss with Drake. Over the years, Drake had, more often than not, served as his sounding board, devil’s advocate, and unofficial advisor. The countless instances they’d sat in this office at the end of the day, sipping whiskey while Liam solidified his stances and bounced ideas off of Drake had helped him prepare to face political opponents, foreign negotiators, and skeptical members of the press time and time over. Now, he had to make decisions on his own, without his most trusted friend and ally.

For perhaps the tenth time that evening, he pulled the slip of paper Hana had given him out of his pocket and stared at Drake and Riley’s phone numbers. He could call Drake to talk, he supposed. But he was struggling to work up the courage to do so. He couldn’t just pretend nothing had changed and ask Drake to listen as he worked through his thought process. Drake had different priorities now. That much was wildly apparent.

There was also the small matter of the fact that Liam knew he would need to hide some of his thoughts and feelings from Drake at the moment. He’d done it before, back during Drake and Riley’s engagement, but part of doing so involved keeping his distance from Drake at that time. Drake just knew him better than anyone and could more easily read through his diplomatic mask. It was really only in the past six months or so that it seemed things had fully returned to normal, Drake’s marriage to Riley no longer a point of awkwardness between them. Now, for Drake to flee in the middle of a coup, it felt like the foundation of their friendship was being torn apart yet again.

A few sharp taps on the door interrupted his thoughts. A second later, the door swung open, revealing Olivia with a bottle of wine in her hand.

“I thought you might want some company,” she said as she strode across the room, grabbing two wine glasses off the bar cart before flouncing into the seat across from him. “I won’t even make you switch seats with me, even though the monarch’s desk should technically be mine tonight.”

Liam forced a smile as she sat down and moved to uncork the wine, noticing the vintage of the bottle for the first time.

“Olivia, that bottle is worth over ten thousand Euros.”

She grinned at him as she poured them both a glass. “Exactly. This fine wine was procured by a member of the Rys family, and therefore if anyone deserves to drink it, it’s you.” With that she handed Liam a glass and picked up her own. Liam could only shake his head lightly before tapping his glass against hers gently.

“To the end of Rys rule in Cordonia,” he said with a little shrug before taking a sip. He saw Olivia raise her eyebrows over her own glass.

“Liam…” she started as she set down her glass on the desk.

“It’s nothing, just a bad joke,” Liam lied, waving his hand through the air. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you which documents you think are the most important ones to leave for Rashad?” he asked as he placed a stack of paperwork on the desk between them, trying to divert the conversation.

His question was met with silence, so Liam glanced up from the documents. Olivia was staring at him intently, and she took another sip of her wine before she responded.

“I can certainly help with that, but Liam… are you… shit, I don’t know what to say. This fucking sucks, doesn’t it?”

He let out a little snort at that. “Indeed, it does.”

“I can’t believe those assholes are trying to pull this bullshit. Like fucking Barthelemy would make a better king than you. You’ve given up everything for this country.”

“It feels that way sometimes. I was happy to do so for so long, too. I always knew that leading Cordonia was an honor, and after my brother’s abdication, I never resented needing to prove to my people that I would be a worthy king. But now…” he trailed off, unable to vocalize the rest of that thought. After everything he’d done to be a good king, a better king than his paranoid, ruthless father ever was, and this was how the universe chose to repay him.

The tense silence hung in the office for a few moments before Olivia spoke again. “Speaking of your brother, I hope you don’t mind, but I gave Leo a call and told him what was happening. I figured this isn’t the sort of thing he should hear about on the news. I think he’s flying back. He seemed pretty upset over the whole thing.”

Liam just hummed at that. He loved his brother, but he wasn’t sure if the man who willingly chose to shed his title of Crown Prince would be able to sympathize with his personal pain of having his title stripped from him. Maybe he could help provide some nice distractions, though. Leo was always good for that.

“Thank you,” Liam finally said with a nod, “I planned to call him tomorrow.”

“No problem. I just figured you and Drake might have… a lot to discuss.”

Liam gave a weak smile and shook his head. “I actually haven’t spoken to him yet.”

Olivia narrowed her eyes and tilted her head slightly at his comment. “Well, that needs to be addressed.”

He frowned, taking another sip of the admittedly very excellent wine before he responded. “Quite frankly, Liv, I don’t know that I want to discuss my reasons for not calling him with you. At least not tonight.”

“Tough shit. You have no reason not to call him anymore. And seeing as he’s been your… confidante,” she said, clearly taking a moment to decide how to describe their relationship, “for decades, it strikes me as pretty concerning that you didn’t rush to call him at the first chance you got.”

Liam sighed heavily. He didn’t really want to get into this all, but she was clearly not going to let him brush this off. “I don’t know what to say to him. He left, and I just…” Liam trailed off, unable to fully vocalize the pain he felt in regards to Drake’s actions.

Olivia pursed her lips for just a moment, her bright red nails tapping rapidly against the stem of her wine glass. “I can’t figure out if you are attempting to punish him or protect him here.”

Her response caught him off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you clearly are all sorts of angry and frustrated with him at the moment. I just can’t tell if you think that’s justified, and this is some sort of passive aggressive punishment, or if you realize you aren’t being fair, and you don’t want to make him feel any guiltier.”

“Are you saying that my irritation with him isn’t justified?”

“Irritation would be fine. But I don’t believe for one second that you would avoid talking to Drake if you were merely irritated with him.”

Liam was expecting some sort of sly comment about how surely talking to Drake was always irritating, but it didn’t come. Instead, Olivia continued on, serious and solemn.

“You must be insanely upset with him if you haven’t given him a call, and I’m going to be honest, that scares me. I’m backing you at the Conclave, Liam, and I intend to throw the Nevrakis name behind a winner. So that means you need to be emotionally ready for this fight over the next couple of months. I can’t have you caught up in some petty bullshit with Drake fucking Walker.”

Her statement was a surprising one. “I would have thought you would have been the one person who might understand my rather complicated point of view on this subject.”

She shook her head. “Drake and I may not see eye to eye on… a lot of things, actually, but I still think you are being absurd here.”

“This critique strikes me as slightly hypocritical, as I am having a hard time picturing you not being at least fairly angry with the mess they have created here. A mess that could have been avoided if they’d stuck to your plan, I might add.”

“Of course I’m angry with them! They put almost zero thought into this, and I’ve been scrambling for more than a day straight to try and prevent this all from spiraling into total disaster. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand why they did it. This was all in service of keeping their family together, Liam. You have to know that.”

He did understand that intellectually, but somehow her assessment just didn’t sit right with him. “Yes, Olivia. I can comprehend that their motivations are the safety and security of their daughter, but what I cannot bring myself to do is approve of their decision to commit treason and abandon the citizens of Valtoria they took an oath to serve.”

Olivia took a long sip of her wine before she replied, “Do you want me to pretend that I believe your last statement there, or do you want someone besides Drake to call you on your bullshit? I can do either, you just need to tell me what you want.”

“Of course I want you to be honest with me, Olivia,” he said, completely baffled by her assertion.

She just raised her eyebrows and stared at him, giving him one last chance to ask her to lie, apparently. All he could do was raise his eyebrows right back and take a drink from his own glass, almost daring her to do her worst.

“You aren’t pissed that they are shitty nobles who just abandoned their posts without a second thought. You are pissed that Drake isn’t here to serve as your emotional support.”

Liam opened his mouth to retort, but Olivia shook her head and just kept going.

“It’s understandable, really. He’s been the one you could always turn to, and now it feels like you can’t rely on him at a time when you really fucking need that kind of support. But you need to at least recognize that personal pain as the source of your anger here and not hide behind indignation over the way Drake and Riley fulfill their roles as duke and duchess.

“Those two have always been shitty members of the nobility, and you have never had an issue with it up until this point. In fact, you seemed to tacitly approve of their antics as you granted them power that other dukes and duchesses could only dream of.”

Liam frowned, the blood pounding in his ears as he tried not to let Olivia’s words anger him. “What do you mean?” he breathed out, focusing on not letting this situation escalate. A defensive Olivia was the last thing he was mentally and emotionally equipped to handle tonight.

“Liam, you essentially handed them the reins when it came to the Auvernal negotiations.”

“Those negotiations all centered around their child. It felt wrong to not grant them a certain amount of control given the circumstances.”

She tilted her head back and forth for just a moment. “Sure, I get that. And I’m really not trying to make you defend your decisions here regarding that whole mess. But you have to admit that Drake and Riley have kind of always just done whatever the hell they wanted, and until today, you never had anything to say about it.”

Her assessment echoed through the room as Liam leaned back in his chair, taking another sip of wine. He didn’t want to think he was being solely motivated by his emotions here. He’d worked for years and years, since he was a young boy, to ensure that he kept any feelings in check, guarded and secured for private moments. But Olivia did have a point - Drake and Riley bucking tradition and proper conduct for members of the nobility had never really bothered him before. 

“Liam, I’m not trying to kick you while you’re already hurting. It’s probably natural to feel hurt by Drake’s decision here. I just think you will be able to move past this a little easier if you are honest about why his actions bother you.”

Liam glanced across the desk, meeting Olivia’s gaze. “I sometimes just…” but he couldn’t complete his thought. To vocalize that he just wanted the most important person in his life to care about him on a personal level above all others would be immature and selfish. Drake had a wife and child to think about. Of course they warranted more of his consideration than Liam did. But it was just one more thing he lost in the past day or so, that one person around whom he didn’t need to censor himself, the only individual who gave him honesty without question of motive.

Olivia reached across the desk and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Like I said, being upset is pretty natural here. If it makes you feel any better, I wanted to reach through my phone and stab them both in the gut when Drake told me they had no intention of returning, even if it meant treason charges.”

Liam let out a little chuckle. “How are you so… calm about this now?” Using that word to describe Olivia in any situation felt out of character, but there was literally no other way to describe her at the moment. She looked at ease, sipping thousands of Euros of wine like it was nothing.

“I’m not sure if ‘calm’ is the right word; it’s more like I’m… resigned, I guess. They are both stubborn as hell, and they made this choice because they thought it was best for their kid. Even I can’t fight that.”

“I just wish they would have gone to Lythikos. Then we could be fighting this from all angles together.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? That was your whole plan, and it still seems better thought out than their fugitive act.”

“From our perspective, sure. But we are worried about Cordonia as a whole. They are just worried about keeping their daughter. And given that Rashad already brought up wanting to meet with them to discuss custody, it seems like they were at least a little bit justified in their concerns.”

Liam frowned. Hana must have filled in Olivia of the details of their conversation with Rashad. Liam had gotten the impression that Rashad wanted to find a way to keep Drake and Riley as active participants in Bridget’s life based on the way he requested that meeting, not tear them apart from their child. “Do you really think Rashad has any interest in keeping them from their daughter?”

“No, not exactly. But I also think that coming to live at the palace as Bridget’s nannies or guardians or whatever Rashad plans to throw out there as a way to obey the letter of the law when it comes to the no-confidence vote is a far cry from being recognized as her parents fully. At the end of the day, I just think they aren’t willing to compromise on any aspect when it comes to being a family.” Olivia pursed her lips and glanced into her lap before she continued, “It kind of makes me wish my own parents would have felt that way.”

Her confession was so vulnerable, so honest, it nearly took his breath away. When they were younger, Olivia had sometimes talked about her fears, her pain, her neglect, and Liam had always been willing to lend an ear and supportive shoulder for her to lean on. But as the years marched on, those conversations had dwindled and eventually ceased. Olivia became more defensive, not allowing herself to be perceived as weak by anyone. And in some regards, she thrived. But clearly, that pain from her childhood was still a part of her.

Liam could identify with her in some respects. Father had always devoted more time and energy to Leo. After all, not only had he been the Crown Prince, but he acted out more, drawing more attention nearly every step of the way. But that had largely left Liam to spend time with Mother, who always tried to balance his formal lessons with genuine warmth and affection. And even though she’d been killed and taken from him when he was still quite young, he at least had her guidance and devotion for a while. That was more than Olivia could say about her parents.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Mother might have made the same choice as Drake and Riley, had she been placed in that position. He didn’t recognize it as a child, but looking back on her words now, he saw her concerns, her worries, and her desire to keep him safe. Did she regret her station? Regret raising her son in such an environment? Or did the fact that he’d never known her as an adult mean that he just saw her actions through the rose-tinted glasses of a child?

“Bridget is lucky in that respect,” Liam eventually said, reaching across the desk and refilling both of their wine glasses. “I suppose that’s why royal lineage tends to be emphasized and protected for generation after generation. It’s the only way to battle that instinctual urge to protect one’s children and instead force them to carry massive responsibilities.”

Olivia shook her head. “Or generations of people who strike up primarily political marriages just eliminates all love and empathy from the gene pool.”

“What would you have done, if you were in their position?” Liam asked before taking another sip of wine. The more he thought about it, he wasn’t sure what he would have done if it was his own child. All the options that worked their way into his mind seemed terrible.

Olivia paused to take a drink as well, her free hand tapping a rapid pattern against the surface of the desk. “I don’t know. I’d like to think I would be able to plot things out rationally, but I might have violently lashed out. I don’t think I would have run, but that’s just never been my style. But I don’t know exactly how it would unfold.”

“It’s hard to imagine, acting on that gut emotional response, isn’t it? All our lives, we’ve been taught to negotiate, to employ diplomatic tactics, to foster alliances to protect our titles.”

“You might have been taught that,” interjected Olivia, “but I was taught to fight to protect the family name to the death,”

“Touché,” said Liam, a real smile forming for the first time that day, “but I think my point remains. I don’t think I could let my child be taken by another, but at the same time, it’s as if I cannot imagine myself being guided by my emotions, even if it would make sense to do so.”

“You would protect your kid, Liam. You would figure it out if you were put in that spot.”

“I hope so. I think you would as well, and with minimal bloodshed, I believe.”

She laughed at that, dropping her head back, causing a few strands of red hair to fall loose around her face. “Well, let’s just be grateful we don’t have to find out the truth of that assessment, but it’s getting late, and we still have a lot to do before we need to vacate the palace in the morning. Do you want some privacy to talk to Drake? I can sort through those-” she said, gesturing to the stack of papers left between them on the desk “-while you give him a call.”

He nodded slowly. “Yes. I still don’t know what I’m going to say to him, but…”

“You’ll figure it out,” she said with a shrug, gathering the papers in one arm. “Just meet me in my quarters when you guys are done.”

Liam gave her a little smile as she left his office, pulling out the paper from Hana and staring at it for a few seconds before pulling out his new, prepaid cell phone and calling the number on the top of the page. It was time to talk to Drake.

Permatag:  @walkerswhiskeygirl   @riley--walker  @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5  @mfackenthal  @thequeenofcronuts  

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria  @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs  @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99

Fight or Flight: @masterofbluff @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby @shz256 @iaminlovewithtrr​

[jocazep]

In the Whole Wide Train | Chapter 10

Author’s notes: Hi, remember me? Sorry about the six-month hiatus, but I’m back at it! And it gon’ get dark (even more so than before), so this is just me laying in the groundworks early... ENJOY~

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Reader (Jo, OFC), slight Edgar x Reader

Warnings: Major spoilers for SNOWPIERCER, dystopian society and its countless problems, mentions of forced abortions, language, violence, deaths, slow burn, eventual smut

Synopsis: Having grown up in the Front Sections of the Snowpiercer, you venture down the train when a rare opportunity presents itself, but the excursion quickly changes flavor when you arrive in the Tail Section.

Taglist: Now closed

Series Masterlist

Chapter 10 - Trading Secrets

Curtis couldn’t remember the last time he slept so well--it must have been before the train. There were no dreams, there were no nightmares, just deep, post-climax slumber as if the world around him has melted away--until the alarm blaring “oh-seven-hundred-hours” yanked him out.

He jumped up, but had to take a second before realizing where he was, as the rest of the revolters joined him, stirring awake and confused--the world outside was pitch dark.

“We’re traveling against time zones” Your voice sounded from behind--Curtis turned to see you walking up with a cup of hot water in hand, ”C’mon, need to make some arrangements before we push on.”

“Good morning to you, too.” He took your extended hand, stood up, and pulled you in for a quick kiss. You didn’t kiss back. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh nothing. Gilliam is looking for us is all.”

The truth of the matter is a little bit more complicated than that.

You woke up early. As a medical apprentice, you used to do that before you had important appointments, as it would clear your head and prepare for your day, but today you found no such effect.

Your eyes fixated on Curtis as he lay next to you, breathing in and out, but your head was a million miles away. What was last night? Was it just two people seeking solace in each other after the death of a mutual friend? Or was it the culmination of all those little touches and stolen glances and shared silences? Did it mean anything to him? More importantly, did it mean anything to you?

But then Mason entered your mind in stealth, slowly gnawing away in the back of your head, until you couldn’t focus on the inner debate between your commitment to your father vs. your--your what? Your responsibility? Your debt?--whatever it is you owe to the revolt.

So you push yourself up, and padded barefoot towards where Mason was being held captive.

“It’s about time.” Her unmistakable accent greeted you before your eyes could find her, “ah is that water?”

You didn’t respond, but dipped the mug in your hand lower so she could suck a mouthful of the liquid before you rescinded it.

“Any chance you can spare some food as well, my dear?”

“Not unless you want the fish they gutted before the fight.” You sat down next to Mason, and silence fell for a second.

“Well, I suppose we should make a de--”

“When did he send you to the tail section?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said how old were you when my father first sent you to the tail sections?”

“I must have been around...well, your age.“

“You don’t know how old I am.”

“You, Joanna Catherine Watt Wilford, are thirty-two years and some three odd months old.”

You stare at Mason in astonishment.

“I’ve seen your birth certificate. There was a time when Mr. Wilford thought about giving you to a foster family... After your mother passed away of course...” Mason took a pause, “But I thought you are here to warn me--”

“I am.” You kept your eyes straight ahead, “This is just my human interest story for the report.”

You tend to forget that for some people, there was a life before the train, since you had barely turned fifteen when your estranged father plucked you from the monotony of a privileged private school, into a monotony of the train.

But hey, at least you got to practice medicine and help people. Is that what I’m doing now?

“The report--that’s why I first went down there too, you know...He must see it as a rite of passage.” A smile threatens to break as Mason reminisced about her past.

“Was it..” You didn’t know how to phrase the question, but luckily Mason caught onto your train of thought.

“Oh dear, even more so. Mr. Wilford really turned it around. They were surviving on rats and vermin before the protein block assembly. When I first went down there... it’s as if all society had broken down. There was stories about this pregnant woman... And when they found out who I was, they chained me up and almost tore me to pieces. Imagine what they would do to you. ”

You had heard enough, “All right, here’s the deal. I keep you alive, you keep your mouth shut about me. Sound good?”

Mason nodded enthusiastically as you stood up to leave. “Just one more thing, what does Mr. Wilford want with Curtis?”

You did not look back, “Ask another wrong question, and my father will hear about it.”

Mason all but clasped her hands onto her mouth.

You were planning to sneak back and lay your head on Curtis’ chest, relive the little escape you two had before the day had to begin, but today luck just wasn’t on your side. As your turned the corner back into the makeshift dorm, soft crying and sniffling caught your attention.

It was Tanya. By the dim moonlight reflected from the snow, you could see her clutching a piece of paper and wiping tears from her face. By the time you realized it was the charcoal drawing of Timmy she was holding, it was too late to turn back.

Noticing the light shift, Tanya sat up and look at the person standing a few feet from her. You didn’t know what to do for a moment. You two haven’t been alone since you came clean about Timmy. In a letter no less, you coward.

“I didn’t mean to--”

Tanya lay back down and closed her eyes.

What was the rest of your sentence anyway? You asked yourself as you padded towards the infirmary section, sleep now the last thing on your mind. Didn’t mean to pry? Didn’t man to take Timmy? Didn’t mean to get so close to Curtis and the revolt?

You were pulled from the reverie by Yuna’s hand tugging your sleeve. Around you, the men were deep in discussion, figuring out how many people to station at each section.

Yuna slipped you a piece of paper torn from the small notebook you gifted her. On it she had drawn a picture of herself and Namgoong in the prison section, the many drawers colored dark and ominous. Yuna pointed to the drawers.

“It’s a little advanced for you but ok,” you took the pencil from her and spelled out the word prison, “Prison, it’s a place to hold people that have broken the law.”

Yuna didn’t seem to like that word. She wrestled the paper from you, pointed to the drawers again, and looked at you, waiting for a response.

“Jo?” You whipped your head back to the much less mystifying, but much more important meeting.

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

Curtis gave you an update, “Gilliam will stay behind, with 50 men stationed in the water section, then 15 men at each other section before our base,” Base is what you called the tail section now, “Grey will stay with Gilliam as well.”

“Nonsense, Grey will be much more useful to you than me.”

You shot a look at Gilliam as he chimed in, wondering if he really meant it.

“I think Grey should stay too. We are already a large pack as it is--”

“Don’t forget, Jo, we’re going ahead to take the engine,” Gilliam gave you a long look, “who knows what you will find there”.

Right. You bit your tongue and didn’t argue any further. Let’s never forget

“We were trying to decide what we should do about Mason.” Namgoong picked up the thread of discussion, “What do you think?”

“She’s injured, will only slow us down.” Grey’s voice was very quiet.

“I would rather keep her close than let her stay with the captured soldiers. Who knows what she’ll get them up to.”

“That’s fair, I can’t possibly keep an eye on her the whole time,” Gilliam agreed.

“Tanya’s doing a great job watching her.” *So that’s why she’s not in the meeting.*

“She didn’t want to come with us?”

“Of course she did, but--”

“I think Jo’s saying Tanya should go with you.”

The discussion wrapped up quickly after that, as dusk was threatening to break over the horizon. Your partners in crime stood up and went off--there were bags to pack, arrangements to make, and farewells to say.

You dragged your feet, hoping to spend a few minutes with Gilliam before setting off.

“Having doubts, dear?” Gilliam clicked by on his crutch.

“Before I first came down--”

“Perhaps it’s best you don’t tell me exactly what Wilford asked of you.” Sometimes you wish you had his ability to see right through everything.

“You don’t want to know?”

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t,” Gilliam chuckled, “But I’ve feigned ignorance too many times, even for someone my age. I’d like this occasion to be real.”

“Then...can I ask how much you know?”

“As far as I know, the revolt should have served its purpose after the water supply section.”

You nodded, “Do you ever ask yourself, why he always landed on culling?”

“It wasn’t just him, my dear.”

For the second time that day, you stared in astonishment.

“Perhaps you’re the only person with whom I can share this secret.” There were mini explosions happening in your head as Gilliam spoke, “No past revolt has gotten past the water section. Sometimes it was disorganization, sometimes it was survival instincts, sometimes just plain human greed. But every time, the necessary culling would take place, and the tail section would treasure its existence that was magnanimously gifted by Wilford.”

“Why did they settle?”

“The very first revolts that took place, was only six months into the train journey. Curtis was a little past seventeen, completely unaware, and Edgar, god rest his soul, was just a baby. The leader, he rallied enough people to fight. But every battle cost heavily on his side. Byt the time he got to the prison section, there were only a handful of adult men left. And Mason, who was also a surveyor at the time, managed to entice him with promises of a better life. He held out for a while, but eventually he chose the devil he knew.”

“Your point being?"

"My point being, there's only so much you can do at one given time. Learn to pick your battles."

---

You left Gilliam soon after, head still reeling from the secrets he confided, wondering if he ever regretted his past decisions.

“Hey...” Curtis snuck up on you, taking your hand. You jumped slightly, taken out of your trance. “Do you realize this will be the last time we’re alone for a while?”

“Yeah...?”

He pulled you into him, and caught your lips in a long kiss. You both stumble towards the steel walls of the train, eventually settling in a nook. Curtis dipped his tongue past your teeth, tangling with your tongue, one of his knee wedging between your legs, bringing back heated vignettes of last night. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hips bucking against his thigh, your belly bumping up against his increasing hardness.

Curtis eventually lifts his lips from you, allowing you to breathe, while he latches onto the side of your neck. His hand roams up your belly, kneading your breasts, squeezing your side--

“Ow!”

“Shit, sorry,” Hard pause as he remembers your injury, “Is it getting better?”

“No, but I’ll live,” you answered, breathless, “when we get to the health section I’ll take a closer look.”

Curtis rest his head against yours, gulping for air, “This is your injury number three, huh?”

“Yeah, you are bad news for me.”

From the front of the section, someone called out, “Curtis, Jo, we’re doing the portrait!”

“You gonna be okay there?” You eyed his bulge.

“Yeah, just gimme a minute...”

The portrait took longer than you expected. While Painter took down your likeness in charcoal, Andrew was playing with the now captive Mason, asserting his newly-earned dominance over this once proud magistrate.

“I was hoping to talk about it earlier.” Curtis said out of the corner of his mouth as you all stood, eight half-frozen figures.

“I...enjoyed it?” You said, tongue in cheek, “Would recommend to a friend.”

“Funny,” Curtis couldn’t help the smile creeping onto his face,  “But seriously...”

“I mean...” You looked up at him, “If we both survive when this is all over...”

You were joking but the words hit home for Curtis, as he remembered Edgar. Will you both come out of this alive? He had always considered himself as someone with nothing to lose, but now...

You turned away as you noticed Curtis staring into the distance. Gilliam was standing in the front of the crowd that would stay behind, looking at you with his signature elderly smile, and something else just behind the glasses, a mutual understanding that this is truly farewell.

You found yourself running his words again and again in your head.

“The leader asked for running water, and a stable food supply. Wilford agreed, but asked the leader to help him maintain the balance in the tail section whenever necessary. A few months later, the protein blocks started coming in, a washroom was unlocked, and my secret phone compartment was installed.”

Taglist: @torntaltos @emmalbg @ajosieface 

[ricinbach]

mercy. | chapter 14 - question

he needs information and there is no way in hell he is playing nice.

Everyone was afraid.

No matter how much they tried to act like everything was just fine, or conceal it behind the roaring buzz of bullets, every single living soul on this earth knew that their time was very limited - and even that could end in a split second. Everyone and their mother knew nothing good ever came out of displaying the horrors felt inside, no matter how powerful and how restricting they might have been.

A single tear, hitched breath or an evasive blink - and you could join the pile of dead bodies scattered with your insides thrown around and throat bit.

Well, there was no use in hiding in that particular cabin room in the middle of the blizzard - it reeked of pure and raw fear throughout.

It was in the way they breathed - in slow, sometimes fast-paced hitches when his fist met their jaws. In the way that fresh blood dripped and splattered across the floor. The way their chests heaved from exertion and fear, coupled with sheer pain running through them.

For that given moment, it was a small price to pay, considering they still were partially alive and breathing. That did not stop the uncertainty of the next second with a man so unpredictable and so dangerous from surrounding their entire beings in agony of what was to come.

What he was going to do to them, and more importantly, why.

Suddenly the pair of hunters working under yet another crazy-enough, makeshift faction leader wished they had been long deceased. Maybe even that would not be enough to save them the agony that was to come.

"You saved my life once."

The wooden planks rattled under each thud of heavy snow boots, creaking under weight. The whisper of the winter breeze leaking through the cracks in the windows in a violent hiss.

His presence, that eminent embodiment of just what the human race was capable of doing when distressed, was what made the room freeze.

"I hope I can save yours too."

It would be an understatement to say that the two tied up and beaten down were not the only ones hurting.

The gruff man clung onto his abdomen between bouts of anger and punching, the residual pain sending shrieks through his body through the tight stitches that kept him together. How he managed to hold it together still had been just as much of a dilemma to himself. It was like this fire, fueled by anger, pure fear and agony, burned within him, giving him just the right amount the power to keep on going.

All he could do was pray that his stamina did not betray him right when he needed it the most.

Taking steps towards the one tied to the chair, helplessly trying to maneuver and kick off his restraints, the vibrations of his steps echoed through, instilling such fear into his captive.

Like a jaguar, albeit wounded, moving through the jungle to land the final blow on his prey.

He sat down and glared at the quivering man with a certain aura of determination surroinding him and his movements, his dark eyebrows furrowed together in the sheer brutality of the actions he was planning on committing in the moments to come. And in that moment, looking into the eyes of one of his attackers - he was ready to do whatever it took to get to you and her.

Torturing and extracting information after beating the shit out of whoever crossed his path had been the ways he got accustomed to during his days as a hunter, having seen both sides of things. It was not pretty, it never was - Joel did not get satisfaction in tearing apart kneecaps or popping off fingernails for it to splatter blood all over his face.

No, he only did things when he absolutely had to. Given the everlasting brutality and the harsh reality of the crooked world they lived in, he found himself doing unspeakable things more often than he liked - as much as the man beneath that stone-covered heart screamed at him not to sometimes, to give humanity a little bit of a chance to redeem themselves.

Tilting his head a bit, he actually found himself pondering the question - the man in front of him quivering in the bonds, forcing himself to look anywhere but his captor.

Would humanity really come around and surprise him for a good, welcome change? If he dropped down the gun just a little lower, would they still shoot or extend a helping hand? He had tried giving humanity a chance - the one time he would not regret putting himself in unnecessary danger was taking you along the ride.

Looking back, the way you took care of him and Ellie without being asked to further, for everything that you have done - he would not have it any other way and he was grateful, something the man did not echo into his words too often.

And only if he could find you in one piece, to tell you that himself.

A cold shiver ran through his being as he thought of the most dreadful of possibilities, of what could have happened to you and the her. That alone was enough to harden the edges of his face, jaw clenching in sharp contrast with his higher up cheekbones - creating a dangerous hollow.

Sometimes, the human race only understood from violence - that much he had learned the hard way. Too many mistakes had been made, too many lives had been lost either bleeding in his bare hands or at the end of his bullet. This was one of those times where mercy was not allowed.

It would never be allowed if it concerned you and the little girl he had grown to love, he would reckon and reason in his troubled head, as he leaned in dangerously close to the man in front of him - his hazel green eyes harboring storms that only a few had seen, turning into the palest of shades in the faint reflection of the sparkling snow through the icy windows.

If this was the only way to get a shot at saving you and Ellie, the animal in him that he had managed to keep repressed for the most part, had to emerge.

“Now,” came the dreaded low grumble, face angled just right to stare at his prey, venom dripping out of his deep voice. “The woman and the girl - are they alive?”

Joel found himself wishing he just gave him what he wanted, without having to spill even more blood. He was getting tired of this bullshit - getting too damn broken for all of this gore and monstrosity. It never was easy, and usually things did not go his way - and he was getting damn sick of it.

C’mon, say somethin’, help me out. Help yourself out.

“What are you talkin’ about? I don’t know any of ‘em.”

That motherfucker.

This time he felt no inch of remorse as he grunted and embedded the switchblade right into the man’s knee, dangerously close to his kneecap - an accuracy that only someone with the rugged experience could muster. The screams echoed, following immediately suit to the blood gushing out - his head hanging low as he yelled out a pained curse. Yet another mistake.

“Focus right here, right here,” Joel would almost coo, voice taking a sickening soft edge as one hand pushed the blade in place. The determination and the boldness so tangible as he slapped his prey to gather his attention to the only focal point that mattered at that moment in time - him.

“Or I’ll pop your goddamn knee off.”

And then it broke.

“They - they’re alive. They’re David’s new pets.”

It felt like his jaw would break from clenching. Joel had never felt his blood boil like this in a damn long time, the adrenaline mixed in with anger running through his veins, the images of the unthinkable instantly flooding into his mind - you and Ellie, battered and bruised. Losing another daughter and another woman he had realized he cared for deeply.

He was not going to be late this time.

“Where?”

The blade was pushed in deeper and further into the veins and the muscle tissue, inching closer to the cap as the man let out an agonizing scream.

“Fuck - fuck, in the town, in the town!”

Seemingly pleased by that for the moment, he would extract the blade in a sickening sound of metal against meat, opting to place the handle of the blade between the straggler’s teeth - almost prying open his mouth viciously as blood dripped from the blade to the floor in soft patters.

A tactic he had learned from his time with the hunters - a dark, dark period in his lifetime where he did a lot of things he had regretted. In moments like these, where he had to hunt or be hunted, a slight wave of deja-vu would hit. Part of him believed that the hunters and their way of surviving had shaped him into who he was now - relentless and unforgiving.

It all came in handy when he least thought of it, and he could not complain.

“Now you’re gonna mark it on the map,” came his low order, extending a dirty map of the area out. “And it better be the exact same spot your buddy points to.”

The man, shocked and dazed from pure pain, would tremble leaning forward as he managed to point the blade to the location of their supposed camp on the map, marking it in a wet crimson.

“It’s right there - you can verify it. Go ask him, go, go on,” he would ramble, tossing the knife out from his mouth to send it sprawling on the hardwood. Eyes bloodshot as he looked up to his captor folding the map and standing up with the same unforgiving expression on his face that spoke of no rainbows and sunshine.

“I ain’t lyin’, man, I ain’t - ”

His very last words would be cut short as a muscular arm wrapped around his bruised throat, cutting the air supply in a grunt as the unbound parts of his arms and legs went flailing against the surface, trying to gain purchase from anything at all - before he choked out in a throaty hiss.

The dreadful sound of a metal pipe being dragged across the wood was enough to set the remaining captive stuttering and begging for his life, struggling against the handcuffs and his heart about to burst like his lip.

“Fuck you man, he told you what you wanted,” came his final line of defense. “I ain’t tellin’ you shit.”

Much to his demise, the man standing tall in front of him appeared to shrug his shoulders ever so slightly, the faint white light hitting his face in such an animalistic glow.

“That’s alright. I believe him.”

[alison-anonymous]

second chances pt. 2 ♡ lou

Second Chances Part 2 ♡ Lou Imagine

♡♡♡

       This was crazy. No, scratch that. It was absolutely INSANE. It had been about three weeks since the sleepover with the girls and your sudden revelation that you did indeed have a crush on Lou (it was just a little one), and you hadn’t seen nor heard a thing from him. But, driven by the hope your friends had given you added with the constant encouragement and bewildering dreams of yours, you weren’t ready to give up just yet. Perhaps they had a point. Lou wasn’t the kind to just fall for someone, no, he turned down every offer he got and never gave out any either for that matter.

       So him having the hots for you? Well, that was a one in a million. You weren’t going to let that go to waste. 

       That’s why you were here, standing outside of the storage faculty building. Of course, Kitty and Mandy had accompanied you to Lou’s old mansion first, but once the robots sent you away telling you he no longer lived here, they went back to their homes as it was getting late. But you were determined. So, you went to the place where he worked hoping to find him there. What you weren’t expecting was everything that happened next...

♡♡♡

       You sucked in a deep breath for courage, patting down your hair, praying to the big world above that you didn’t have a huge blemish or smeared makeup on your face. You were standing in front of the supply closet, the one that you were told was where you could find Lou by Ugly Dog (who was passing by with the big mechanical dog that was supposedly Lou’s patrol officer). 

       Should I knock? You thought. I mean, it wasn’t a house. But you didn’t know if he was even in there or not. Shrugging to yourself, you decided to throw caution to the wind and twisted the button doorknob. The storage closet was pretty dingy, to be honest. The stitching in the shelves was uneven and the fabric walls had splotches of drained color. A strange smell seeped through your nostrils and sent your stomach churning even more than it already was from the butterflies. And butterflies only meant one thing - Lou was in close proximity.

       A fluorescent bulb flickered from the ceiling as you carefully treaded through the room, trying to peer through the shelves of buckets and mops for a certain doll with yellow hair. You were nearing the end of the room when you heard a clang to your right. Swiveling around in the direction, your shoes clacking against the floor, you turned to stare at Lou, holding a gardening hoe out in front of him as if it were a weapon, a terrified look on his face. You quickly let out a scream, holding your hands up before you in surrender.

       “It’s just me!” You cried out. He blinked his gorgeous blue eyes rapidly, dropping the tool with a clang and running over to you, grabbing one of your hands. 

       “I’m so sorry,” he apologized, planting a warm kiss on the back of your hand. The room suddenly went from room temperature to 110 degrees very quickly. “I thought you were a robber.”

       You let out a giggle, watching as he planted another kiss on your hand before lowering it to give you an apologetic smile. “It’s fine, really. You just scared me a little. Wait...” That was when you saw it. A little ways behind him, on the cold floor, laid a pillow and a bunch of dirty blankets, folded over on another in an attempt to make a makeshift bed. Lou’s eyes followed your gaze and once he realized where they had landed, he quickly stepped in front of it.

       “It’s not what it looks like,” he exclaimed. 

       “Oh really? Because it looks like you’ve been sleeping in the supply closet. Like everyone forgot that you’re still a doll too and deserve a place to live.” You retorted, snarling the last bit in disgust at your people. He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. 

       “Alright, so maybe it’s exactly what it looks like.” 

       “What happened, Lou?” You asked curiously, stepping by him to glance around the rest of the room. He was smart, choosing one of the only spots that wasn’t covered in water or strange chemicals. Still, it was no place to live.

       “...Once Moxy and Ox took over as Co-Leaders of Imperfectionville, they handed my mansion over to the robots and created a bunch of new homes for all the newcomers. The Perfections still got their old homes if they wanted them, but there were a bunch of new ones made to fit the growing population. After a while, I guess they just forgot about me. But I’m doing fine, you know?” He chuckled awkwardly. You stepped closer to him, making eye contact as blue met e/c. 

       Lightbulb. 

       “You’re coming with me,” You grinned in realization. He furrowed his brows in confusion. 

       “Wait, what?” 

       “Grab your stuff,” you whipped around and began picking up the pillows and folding up the blankets, making sure to leave behind the ones soaking up the strange, unnamed chemicals. “You’re crashing at my place.” 

       His eyes bugged out in shock, some of his yellow hair falling into his eyes. Taking a daring move, you stood back up, and slowly brushed the loose strands back, allowing your hand to linger atop his head. His eyes met yours once more, and the lack of distance between you two was suddenly very noticeable. But neither of you moved. A soft silence fell between you two as you just stood there, your breaths mingling with one another until he finally broke the silence.

       “I can’t ask you to do this for me, Y/n,” he sighed. You smirked at him. 

       “You didn’t. I’m kidnapping you,” he chuckled, making your grin broaden. It was nice to see him smile. “Besides, what would you do if anyone else offered their home to you?” 

        “Duh, I’d say yes.” 

        “So then why is it any different with me?” You asked in bewilderment, opening the door for the both of you as you two headed out into the night, guided by the street lights. 

        “I...”

        “Lou, just tell me.” He scratched the back of his neck again, a nervous tick he had been doing a lot more often around you. But you needed an answer. 

        “I respect you more than I could ever respect any of them.” He finally answered, his cheeks catching a tint of pink in them as you began to pass into the residential district. You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warm too at the compliment. Lou never respected anyone, he was the top of the chain, the only one he had to respect was himself. So if he respected you? Wow... even being born couldn’t stand up to that privilege. 

        You giggled softly next to him, leaning back your head to take a gander at the night sky. The big, button moon and the glittering thread stars. It was gorgeous. 

        “Aren’t the stars beautiful?” You asked contently. Little did you know, Lou had been getting lost staring at you as you stared at the stars.

       “Yes, you are.” He said absentmindedly. 

       “Wait, what?” 

       “Nothing!”

       A few minutes later, you had made it to your house. You hadn’t done any renovations like the others had done, you left it the exact same as it had been when Lou walked you to it all those years ago. You didn’t see anything wrong with it. Opening the door for the two of you, you lead him into the main foyer where you turned on the lights. He glanced around the layout a little, but for the most part recognized it all as the design he had preapproved. All except the framed photo of a certain yellow-haired doll sitting next to the sofa. He watched with a smirk as you slyly put it down while pretending to set down your phone. 

       But hey, that just proved that you still had feelings for him too. 

       “You can have my bed, I’ll take the couch,” you said, already grabbing some extra blankets and pillows from the closet. 

       “No way, I’m taking the sofa. You’re taking your bed.”

       “No way, my house, my rules.” You smirked at him, turning around as he crept closer to you, his signature smirk stretching across his lips as well as he towered over you. 

       “Technically this is my house, so my rules trump yours.” 

       “Oh, but I thought you respected me now? So perhaps my word trumps yours.” He shook his head, chuckling slyly as he leaned in closer to you, causing your steady gain to falter momentarily from his closeness.

       “Perhaps a compromise is in order? We both take the bed?” The suggestion brought the already burning flame for him into a full on wood fire as your cheeks tinged crimson. But... you didn’t not want to do that, so...

       “I-I’d hate for either of us to be uncomfortable. The couch is rather... lumpy?” You cursed your stutter, but your approval was clear. He laughed, gently grabbing your hand and pulling you into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. 

♡♡♡

       You woke up the next morning with a warm arm wrapped around your waist. The sunlight streaked through your window, illuminating the room and the sea of covers you and Lou were underneath. No, nothing happened, it wasn’t like that. After changing into PJs and some more playful banter, you both fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed. But now...

       You carefully rolled over, making sure the warm arm didn’t fall off your body, to come face-to-face with a sleeping Lou. Your heart melted a little inside your stuffing filled chest. You had gotten used to seeing his stone cold expression as he barked out orders, or taught classes on how to avoid spills and stains. But now, as his eyes were shut, hair slightly out of place, mouth open softly as he breathed smoothly, and his arm resting securely around your waist, you had never seen him so... vulnerable. You couldn’t help but wish that this moment could last forever as you stared at him, your heart racing and the butterflies swarming so much you were afraid of being sick.

       That was when you realized... you were late. Again. “Oh shit,” you cried, rolling back over again, startling Lou awake. You were frantically trying to get out of bed when suddenly, the arm around your waist tightened. Freezing, you glanced behind you to see Lou’s eyes only halfway open, but his same malicious smirk planted on his lips.

       “Lou, I have to get to work,” You began, but was cut off near the end by him reeling you back into his chest. You squealed, laughter filling the air as he buried his face into your neck, letting out a low groan. 

       “Just five more minutes,” he pleaded. You giggled, attempting to wriggle around in his arms, but he was still a lot stronger than you. Finally, you gave in, turning around to stare him in the eyes.

       “I never knew you were one for sleeping in,” you teased. 

       “I’m not,” he replied into your hair. “But you bring out a better side of me.” About a half an hour later and some more flirting, the two of you finally left the house. He was telling you some more about the robot patrol officer and what he can and cannot do during his breaks while you locked up. Little did the two of you know that some passing dolls were giving you two stink eyes as they were making their way to work. 

       What was Lou doing leaving Y/n’s house? Were they... together? No way, she’d never do that. He tried to ruin everyone’s chances to make it to the big world. He should be dead, but she wouldn’t let anyone kill him. Bitter gossip began to spread as the two headed off to work. Little did you know that the rumors spread like wildfire. 

       As soon as you reached work, your boss pulled you aside. While half of you was excited, the other half was petrified. “You asked to see me, miss?” You asked nervously. 

       “Yes, what is this that I hear about you and Lou being in a relationship?” She asked, lowering her glasses, eyes hardening. You stood there for a moment, letting her question sink in. 

       “Umm, Miss, we aren’t in a relation-”

       “Then what was he doing leaving your house this morning?”

       “Ma’am, I don’t see what this has to do with-” 

       “Let me just tell you this, Miss L/n,” she leaned in closer, tapping her pencil against your shoulder. The sharp end. “If these rumors prove true, that means that you are having intimate relations with someone who tried to take away all of our happiness, our only chance of getting a child. Now, I don’t know about you, but I certainly wouldn’t want that person or anyone involved with that person working for my business. Do you understand me?” 

       You choked back your tears. “Crystal clear.”

♡♡♡

       Later that afternoon, you were having a get together with the Spy Girls and Mandy outside the shopping district. The five of you sat around a table near the old scanners, chatting it up about new gossip and how everyone’s lives had been going. But of course, your dejected and fearful attitude didn’t go unnoticed. 

       “Y/n, hun, what’s wrong? You look sick,” Kitty asked in concern. You looked up to see her kind, blue eyes staring back at you. 

        “...Lou spent the night at my place last night,” all of the girls gasped, wide grins on their faces. “BUT it’s not what you think. I went to see him and found out he’s been sleeping in the supply closet. I brought him back home with me and apparently someone saw us leaving the house together and word got around and... now everyone thinks we’re together. My boss threatened to fire me if I start dating him.” You whimpered, covering your face with your hands. Everyone gasped again. 

        “Oh my goodness, doll,” Tuesday cried. 

        “She has no right to fire you over who you choose to date,” Mandy cried. 

        “I know, but-” You began, but was soon interrupted by all the girls turning their attention to someone behind you. You furrowed your brows in confusion until Lydia spoke up.

        “Hey, Lou! What brings you here?” Your heart began to pound in your chest once more as you swiveled around in your seat to see Lou, grinning over at you. 

        “Hello ladies, I was just wondering if I could borrow Y/n for a moment?” He asked, polite and suave as ever. The girls all giggled, sending a myriad of winks and suggestive looks in your direction before practically shoving you into him. He caught you, of course, wrapping his arms securely around your waist. You laughed awkwardly, tucking your hair behind your ear and dragging him over to somewhere more private. 

        “Hey, Lou, what’s up?” You asked. “Are you in trouble?” A small red light began to turn on at the idea before he quickly shut it off, his eyes never straying from you. 

       “Oh, no, no, nothing like that. I was just wondering...” he slowly took your hands in his, his blue orbs trailing slowly up from your hands until resting on your eyes. A soft, true smile floated onto his lips, sending your stomach into sommersaults. “Would you, Y/n L/n, go out on a date with me?” 

       If your jaw had dropped any more, it would have touched the ground. A wide, ecstatic grin spread across your lips as you let out a squeal of happiness as you jumped up and down in pure joy. “Yes, oh my doll, yes!” You leapt up and wrapped your arms around him tightly. He gratefully returned the gesture, pressing you into his embrace as he closed his eyes. 

       Maybe everything would be okay. 

♡♡♡

To be continued... LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT A PART 3!!! 

♡a.a.

[theonewiththefanfics]

The Fight Of Our Lives (one-shot)

Summary: Thanos might have succeeded, and not only erased half the universe, but hope in general. But humans are stubborn little bitches. And so are the Avengers. No matter if dead or not, the fight of their lives is coming and nothing will stop them from righting the wrong. (AKA this is me trying to cope with Endgame.) 

Pairing: Peter Parker x f!Reader 

but is very much so Avengers x f!Reader; Platonic!Steve x f!Reader; Dad!Tony x f!Reader; Platonic!Loki x f!Reader as well

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, swearing, injuries

Word count: 10074 (THIS IS THE LONGEST FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN, HOLY SHIT!!! STRAP IN< GUYS)

       When the snap happened, everyone was in a state of shock. Even Thanos himself didn’t necessarily understand he had succeeded, glazed eyes watching the gauntlet and his surroundings. Only when Thor backed away did he realize his goal was accomplished, so he used the Space Stone to disappear in an instant.        Y/N’s head turned to the side, eyes on Steve clutching his abdomen and looking at Thor with inexplicable fear. “Where’d he go? Thor… where’d he go?        “Steve?” Bucky’s voice cut through the buzzing in her head, but maybe she shouldn’t have glanced at the other super soldier. Maybe then he wouldn’t have turned to ash and been swept away by the winds.       People all around her either felt their hearts drop to the soles of their feet or their bodies disintegrated, and when numbness spread through Y/N’s toes, she knew what was going to happen.        “Steve.” His attention was immediately on her.        “Oh, no, not you too,” the Captain was already rushing to her side, but his hands wrapped around a non-existent middle.        “Tell my dad, I’m sorry.”        Steve was left with nothing but an empty feeling in his stomach and an even emptier field. “Oh, God.”        They had lost.

***

       Steve had always been a good leader. He was Captain America, the man with the plan, always ready to jump into action and give out orders while following his own like the good soldier he was, but for the first time since he could remember himself, he didn’t know what to do. The reflection staring back at him as the remnants of his beard were washed away down the drain was unfamiliar.        This was a man completely lost, let alone out of his time. What was worse, he didn’t know where Tony was. If he was alive. The thought gnawed at him, eating at his brain day and night for almost a month now.        He sighed deeply, letting the air enter his lungs, holding it for a second before exhaling. With a clank against the sink, he let the razor fall out of his hands. Taking the towel that was on the counter, he observed his own features in the mirror.    Steve was more than a hundred years old, yet he looked barely thirty, and despite how tired he was, mentally and physically, his counterpart looked ready to fight, if not for the exhausted look in his eyes… the eyes that were shaking.        Steve’s brow furrowed when he saw the smaller mirror to his left start moving as well. A hand went to steady it, but then his razor rattled and fell into the sink, as the whole building started to tremble.        Nat, Rhodey and Pepper were already rushing outside when he joined the three. What he saw in the courtyard made his knees almost buckle from relief. He didn’t care about the strange glowing woman that placed a space ship on the grass, he didn’t care about Rocket moving forward with them. All he cared about was getting to the two people stepping down from the stairs.        When Steve’s arms wrapped around Tony’s shoulders, he could feel just how much skinnier the genius was, how malnourished and dehydrated he must be, but all that was a secondary thought to the one blaring in his mind – Tony was alive and on Earth.        “I couldn’t stop him,” were his first words to Steve, voice laced with pain and guilt.        Steve’s eyes dropped to the ground before flitting back up. He realized what he would have to inform him of, and he wished Thanos’s snap had also taken him. “Neither could I.”        “I-“ Tony started, unable to find the words before gulping and getting them out, solidifying them as truth. “I lost the kid.”        Fuck.        “Tony, we lost.”        We lost so much…        “Is umm,” he struggled for a second, not wanting to ask, terrified of the answer, but he didn’t even have to. Pepper was right there pulling him in her embrace, a choked back ‘oh my God’ escaping her before both hid their faces in the crook of their loved one’s neck.        “It’s okay,” Tony muttered, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of her collarbone. If only for a second, it was okay.        He slowly limped back inside the compound, heavily resting against Pepper and Steve for support.        Everything was pretty much the same way he’d left it in Rohdey’s care as he and Pep had gone to New York on a business trip before the whole Thanos showdown happened. Apart from the giant hologram pulling up each and every face of the people that had been dusted or were unaccounted for. With every word that Nat explained what was happening Tony felt more and more hollow. Until Peter’s face went up in the air. That took the last breath out of Iron man.        “Where is he now?” he asked, rubbing at his goatee referring to Thanos, “where?”        “We don’t know,” came Steve’s solemn response.        “He just,” Rhodey shook his head, “opened a portal and walked through.”        It was a lot to process. The same way he had disappeared from Titan with the Time Stone on the gauntlet was the same way he’d vanished from Earth after completing his insane task. As he looked behind him to where Thor was sulking, it turned out the god had had a chance at taking Thanos out. But revenge came with a cost.        When Steve said Tony had fought the Mad Titan it seemed like the most ridiculous thing ever.        “Who told you that? I didn’t fight him,” Tony pointed at himself. “No, he wiped my face with a planet while the Bleecker Street Magician gave away the Stone. That’s what happened. There was no fight.”        The cruellest thing was that they’d almost had the glove, but in the blink of an eye, it was lost once more. All that effort, and here they were – broken and beaten to a pulp.        But Steve didn’t seem to give up. “Did he give you any clues, any coordinates, anything?”        Even in Tony’s nightmares, it was never this bad. He surveyed the room, the people he used to call family now with gaps in it, his new acquired Blue Meanie friend and the stranger that had saved them from aimlessly floating through space, but then it hit him.        “Where’s Y/N?”        Nobody dared to meet his gaze, but when Pepper squeezed his hand tighter, he didn’t need words to confirm his worst fear.        “Rogers,” he seethed, “where is my daughter?”        Steve’s chest rattled as he exhaled. “Tony, I’m sorry.” Unshed tears glistened in the Captain’s eyes. He was ready for an outburst, for him to stand up and pummel him to the ground, but he didn’t. Instead, Tony just turned his head to the side, looking into Pepper’s eyes where tears had been streaking down her cheeks ever since he’d returned. He clenched his jaw and nodded.        “The one thing I asked of you after you broke the Avengers apart was to look out for her. Look out for my daughter, keep her safe, do not bring her into this mess,” Tony was fuming and with good reason. “It was a simple thing, Rogers,” he sneered, “so no, I got nothing for you, Cap! I got no coordinates, no clues, no plan, no options. Zero. Zip. Nada. No trust,” Steve could feel each word cut through him like a knife, but the last word sliced his heart completely in half, “Liar.”        Then Tony did something no one expected. “Here, take this,” he ripped off his arc reactor and slammed it in Steve’s hand. “You find him,” he pointed at the blond, “and you put that on. You hide.”        He was just about to start apologizing when Tony’s legs suddenly gave out from underneath him, and he collapsed onto the floor.        “I’m fine,” the genius waved everyone off like usual, “I’m…” but he didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he was enveloped by darkness.        Everyone was already up and acting, Bruce setting up a makeshift hospital room, Steve taking Tony in his arms and rushing him to the bed, Pepper following everyone behind, so there was not even a second more she’d be separated from Tony. Never again.        It took everyone a couple of minutes to regroup but Rhodey finally came to inform them of Tony's status. “Bruce gave him a sedative. He’s gonna be out for the rest of the day.”    The Avengers nodded in relief. It was a small victory to have him back. It was something. So often they were used to loses and casualties, but this time, it was already way too much, and one more would just break whatever was left to break.        Rhodey dragged a hand down his face as the holographic monitor showing who was missing flashed, and Y/N’s face now stared back at him.        “God, fucking damn it,” he muttered, wiping tears away. His best friend’s kid. His goddaughter. His family.        When she had strolled in the compound walking in front of Steve and the rest of ‘Rogue Avengers’, he was ready to clock her in the jaw, knowing she would never back out of a fight. Too much of her father’s genes were in her.        “You know he’s going to kill me,” he groaned as Y/N smirked before pulling him in a tight hug.        “Not if you don’t say anything,” she mumbled in his chest.        All guilt aside, Y/N had been most likely their best chance at winning, excluding Wanda. She was probably the strongest Avenger in the group. Rhodey remembered with fear the time Tony had been kidnapped, and how ballistic the seven-year-old girl had gone seeing the ransom video the terrorists had sent.        She wasn’t supposed to know, but Y/N was a master at sneaking around the house, and as Pepper and Rhodey watched, she had caught a glimpse of her father. Let’s just say the whole of California experienced some strong seismic activity as her powers rippled out of her.        God, and the other one? Peter? He was gone as well. In a way there was a silver lining to it all – both of the teenagers being gone meant neither could do impulsive and rash decisions. After all, the two were in love, and Rhodey was one hundred percent sure they’d go to the ends of Earth and bring down the sky if it meant getting the other one back.        “You guys take care of him,” Carol’s voice brought everyone back to the present. It seemed like Y/N’s face on the screen had shaken them all up. “And I’ll bring Xorrian Elixir when I come back.”        “Where are you going?” she couldn’t be leaving them now. Not at a moment like this.        “To kill Thanos.”        People were up and rushing after the woman in a split second.            Nat was the first one to reach her, a strong grip on Carol’s bicep pulling her back to face them. “You know, we usually work as a team around here, and between you and I, we’re also a little fragile.” That was an understatement, but the fight was not over. Not for them. “We realize this is more your territory, but this is our fight too.”        On the outside, Natasha was acting like a leader, similarly as she always did by either Tony’s or Steve’s side, but on the inside, she was that broken little girl thrown into a single bedroom with a bare mattress and pillow, told she’d become the nation’s greatest weapon at the tender age of six.        Build-A-Bear was the first one to ask the real questions. “Do you even know where he is?”        Carol shrugged. “I know people who might.”        “Don’t bother,” Nebula interrupted. The whole time apart from when Tony was rushed to the hospital room, she’d stood to the side and watched. “I can tell you where Thanos is.”        The hologram was up and running again, only this time displaying the map of the universe provided by the ship log from the Milano.        “Thanos spent a long time trying to perfect me. Then when he worked, he talked about his great plan. Even disassembled, I wanted to please him,” there was such venom in her tone towards her past-self, even Rocket flinched. “I’d ask “where would we go once his plan was complete?” His answer was always the same: to the Garden.”

***

       The next thing Y/N knew was jovial cheering, loud laughing and warm golden lights encasing her instead of the burning plains of Wakanda.        “S-Steve?” she muttered turning around, surveying the grand ceiling and golden ornaments of the walls. “Nat?”        A large mass bumped against her back, and Y/N stumbled out of the way to let a burly looking man trudge past. “ ‘M Lady, my apologies,” he slurred, bowing a bit and then continuing on his merry way.        That’s when everything came rushing back – the fight against the Outriders, and how she took down Proxima Midnight with Wanda, the subsequent arrival of Thanos, and the snap.        “He did it,” Y/N whispered to no one but herself. “He actually did it.”        Instantly her head was high and searching the crowd which seemed to be dressed in some sort of medieval clothing, but that didn’t mean anything to her.        “Dad!” she bellowed as much as she could. “Peter!”        Please not them, please not them, please not them, Y/N chanted in her head as she squeezed between the crowd of people. From the corner of her eye, she saw an archway, beautiful green wines wrapped around the intricate marble, and that’s where she ran to – away from the people in what seemed like a garden outside, and into the building.        She was hit by a wave of warmth and even louder chatter than before. Almost never-ending rows of tables lined the inside of the hall and benches full of people she didn’t recognize. Nothing was familiar to her apart from a certain raven-haired man sitting at the very far end of the room, a beautiful woman with hair of gold right next to him.        “You!” Y/N shouted pointing at Loki. “You! I know you! Loki!”        But he didn’t hear it over how loud everyone was being, so in a true Stark fashion, she jumped on one of the tables, drawing all the attention to herself and thundered a ‘Yo, Reindeer Games!’        For a moment there, the god of mischief was stunned and left speechless. He was never speechless, but when the daughter of Tony Stark calls your name, it might have that kind of effect. As it did on the rest of the people.        Instantly he jumped over the table and ran to where Y/N was standing on the counter.        “How are you here?” he was completely breathless. The last time they’d met, he was not the Loki everyone knew now, but he’d never had any particular distaste towards the younger Stark. In fact, he’d kind of admired how the teenager was actually a useful addition during the battle of New York.        “First of all, where is here?” she motioned around the room, finally stepping off the table and out of someone’s plate. “Sorry,” she muttered to the man, but he only shrugged.      “Second of all, what’s going on? And third of all, where is my dad?”        “You’re in Valhalla.”        “Val-what now?”        “Valhalla. It’s where the fallen warriors of Asgard get to rest once their battle is done.”        “But,” she stuttered blinking rapidly as if that would wash away the scene before her eyes, “but I’m not of Asgard. I’m plain human. Midgardian. Earthling. You know, an ant to your… boot.”        Loki was just about to answer, he himself unable to understand how Y/N was in Valhalla when basically the most gorgeous woman she’d ever seen in her life approached the two. The same one that had been sitting to Loki's left.        “We’ve been waiting for your arrival, Lady Stark.”        “What now?” the question was softer than the flap of a butterfly’s wings, but the goddess, who as far as Y/N could recall her basic Norse mythology knowledge, was Frigga, had already turned to face her son.       “My love,” she smiled placing her hand on his cheek, and Loki practically melted in his mother’s touch. “You did a brave thing. You’ve always been brave and good, despite what has happened. But it’s time to be brave and good one more time.”        “Thanos won,” Y/N exasperated eyes flipping between the goddess and her son. “There is no fight. He snapped his fingers and did what he said he would.”        “Sweet child, I was raised by witches,” Frigga smiled softly at the girl. Usually, she’d sneer towards anyone that regarded her in such a way, but there was nothing condescending in her tone. “I see more than what meets the eye. It has been five years, and a battle is brewing. Your family will need each and everyone ready to help.”        “Five what now?” Y/N breathed out. “But I’ve been here barely a few minutes.”        “Time moves differently here,” Frigga placed a soothing palm on her cheek. “A decade on Earth is simply an intake of breath here. But there is no more time to lose.”        Loki’s green eyes widened as his eyebrows furrowed. “Mother, am I thinking right that you’re implying we should join the fight?”        “You were always the quick one when things needed to be figured out.”        “But… no one has ever returned from Valhalla. No one has ever come back from the… dead.”        “That’s because up until now, she,” Frigga gave Y/N a pointed look, “was on Earth.”        “Me? What the fuck does this have to do with me?” Sure, had the circumstances been different she’d be horrified by the language she’d used in front of an Asgardian royal, let alone a goddess, but frankly, Y/N was just about done with mystical mumbo jumbo and just wanted to get back home where she could watch cheesy B-rate horror movies with her dad while cuddling up next to Peter.        “No one can enter the halls of Valhalla apart from Asgardians.”        Y/N was pointing at Loki in no time. “He’s not one.”        “He was raised as one.”        “Well but I wasn’t. Human as a human can be,” Y/N placed her hands on her hips.        “But you have Asgardian blood in you.”        That made Y/N pause. There really was no other explanation as to how she could be in Valhalla. Sure, there was that time when aliens had kidnapped her from her own backyard after the whole Ultron thing went down, and she was rolling with the Guardians for a brief second before demanding to be put back on Earth cause that’s where her home was, but even her space travels were a sounder explanation as to everything going on rather than her being part of the race from Norse mythology.        “You never mentioned it,” Loki glanced at Y/N whose eye roll was the best she’d ever given to anyone.        “Because not knowing who my biological mother is, was the first thing, I wanted to talk about with the dude trying to invade Earth. Besides, Thor was of Asgard, and you continuously stabbed him. I kinda think it was in my favour not to, despite not even knowing it.”        Loki’s lips were pressed together in a thin line, but Y/N could see how he was trying to hold off a smile. “Well, maybe you’re half-Asgardian, but without a doubt, you’re a Stark.”        “You say I’m the key to getting us out of here,” Y/N was starting to get impatient. “How?”        “Your powers are deeply connected to your emotions as they are to the universe and every element swirling around us.”        Tentatively Y/N nodded, and Frigga whispered for her to close her eyes.     “Concentrate on your heart, your soul. Each stone represents a part of the universe. Let your powers go, let them roam the realms until they grasp at the source that calls for them.”        It sounded absolutely bonkers as the goddess coached Y/N on what to do, but she imagined her abilities like silvery tentacles that had a string wrapped around her heart, but the others were left free to slither their way through the galaxies and dimensions until the pull suddenly stopped, and she had a clear anchor to something.        “My Queen,” a woman with long onyx hair approached the trio. She was wearing a light grey uniform and a blue cape adorned her back, a glimmering silver sword hung by her side. “We heard what has happened, and who has come to pillage the universe. The Valkyries, if you’d allow it, would be more than honoured to fight beside our Prince and everyone else defending the world.”        Frigga just inclined her head, quickly glancing at Odin who up until that point had been sitting in his chair.        “You need to figure this out quicker,” Y/N groaned, stumbling a bit, but Loki was there to catch her. “I’m not gonna be able to keep at it for much longer.”        And then it was like a second breath had been given her. She felt her blood thrum with power as Odin, the Allfather, used every bit of Dark Magic he could summon and directed it towards Y/N.        Inch by inch Y/N grabbed onto the thread and pulled herself towards where the stones were calling. It took all of her concentration and attention to do so, but with every passing moment, she could feel them closer.        With a final tug at the tether, she extended her arms to her sides and opened up a portal, eyes glowing pure white, and teeth bared to the world. Like a lioness ready to attack, Y/N stepped out onto a battlefield.        But they weren’t alone. All around them she saw glowing orange circles where tens of thousands of warriors emerged. And it wasn’t just humans. She saw Skrulls, who she’d met while with the Guardians, the Asgardians that had been brought to Earth by Thor, and so many other creatures with different shapes and forms ready to fight Thanos. He hadn’t just angered Earth. He’d angered the whole fucking universe.        “Avengers!” Steve roared a hand extended forward, and Mjolnir flew right into his open palm.        I fucking knew it, Y/N smirked.        “Assemble.”        It took everything in her to keep that portal open. Not only that, as a scream tore her throat apart much like she was doing with time and space, Y/N put her whole being in it and expanded the gateway, the Valkyries rushing out in a majestic formation.        Thor’s scream of joy was something like an adrenaline rush, giving her more motivation.        “Just so you know,” Loki said unsheathing his dagger and letting his seidr envelop his left arm, “this boot," he motioned towards himself, "has no quarrel with this ant," he pointed at her.        “Good,” Y/N gritted, closing off the portal once she knew everyone was out. For a split second when she turned to look behind her, she saw Frigga’s smiling face. Whatever happened, she’d be there to welcome her warriors home. “But this ant,” Y/N motioned at herself with her thumb, “has a major quarrel… with that ugly ass boot.”        “Seems like a whole universe of ants does.”        That was enough of a signal for her to join the battle. Lifting herself off the ground, she rushed up to meet a Leviathan before taking it down like it was nothing. Bits of Odin’s magic were still there, and she was not about to waste them.        But no matter how many troops she took down, more seemed to take their place. It was like Thanos had a never-ending supply of them.        “Cap, what do you want me to do with this damn thing?” Y/N heard Clint as he sprinted by her, and she lifted up a horde of oncoming aliens freeing his path.        “Get those stones as far away as possible!” Steve’s voice was loud and clear in the comms, giving everyone the non-verbal order – protect whoever is carrying the gauntlet, and don’t let Thanos get to them.    “No!” Bruce, who Y/N only just now noticed was a morph of the Hulk and Bruce, countered back. “We need to get them back where they came from.”        “No way to get them back,” Clint grunted as he evaded a few aliens and resumed his mad dash. “Thanos destroyed the quantum tunnel.”        “Hold on!” a voice Y/N hadn’t heard in a while invaded the system, and she had to grin. She’d always liked Giant Man. “That wasn’t our only time machine.”        An obnoxiously loud car horn beeped across the battlefield, making everyone’s heads whip to the side as Steve rushed up a hillside.        “Anyone see an ugly brown van up there?”        “Yes,” exclaimed Brunhilde from high up above leading the storm of Valkyries against the Leviathans, “but you’re not gonna like where it’s parked.”        “Cap!” Y/N got his attention, taking everyone’s, who hadn’t seen her arrival, breath away. Including Steve’s. “Get that thing started, we’ll hold them back,” she motioned with her chin towards Loki, whose seidr glowed a brighter jade just at her words.        “Scott, how long do you need to get that thing working?”        “Maybe ten minutes,” came his rushed reply, as he heaved a few breaths in a moment of pause.        “Get it started. We’ll get the stones to you.”        When Frigga had said a battle was brewing, Y/N did not expect it to take the violent form of hot potato, but as Clint, and then T’Challa approached the van, her powers slowly depleted.        A moment of carelessness, and she was thrown away by the huge paw of a beast. It was just about to stamp on her when the bright beam of a repulsor created a hole in its chest. Y/N barely got time to roll out of the way of the corpse, before it thudded like a sack of bricks.        “Dad?” the word cracked in the middle, but Tony couldn’t move, as his daughter, the one he lost half a decade ago, was finally in front of him. After years of hopelessness, that was only regained a bit when Morgan was born, his family was finally whole again.        “Baby girl?”        That’s when Y/N threw all caution to the wind. She didn’t care about the battle, the screams and roars; all that mattered were her father’s arms tightly woven around her body, keeping her close to his chest – safe and sound in his embrace.        “I’m so sorry, dad,” she wailed in his arms. “I’m so sorry I put you through that.”        But Tony just shook his head, pulling back and pressing their foreheads together. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re here... right here, and that’s what’s important.”        Both of them nodded in unison, either at Tony’s words or just to reassure them the other was real. It was a tiny moment of peace before the sound of someone loudly yelling ‘Oh My God!’ brought them back to the fight.        “Where’s the gauntlet?”        “Last I heard Peter had it.”        “Peter?” his name was a breathless whisper of hope. He was there. They both were.        Tony nodded, gripping her bicep a bit tighter before letting go. “Keep him safe.”        And with that both Starks separated destroying Thanos’s army bit by bit while desperately trying to find where the stones were.        She was in the middle of battling against Ebony Maw, her powers ripping his heart apart from the inside out when the scarlet swirls of Wanda’s magic got her attention.        “Rain fire!” Thanos grunted, and instantly Y/N whipped her head around where Wanda was pulling the Titan apart atom by atom.        There was some sort of an answer that came from a troop she couldn’t hear, but when Thanos exclaimed ‘Just do it!’ she knew shit was about to get even more real than it already was.        From high up above, Thanos’s ships aimed their blasters towards the ground and unleashed hell upon Earth. Wanda was thrown back, and that made her release the hold she had on the madman. Without a second to spare, the wizards created shields with their powers but people who were not under their protection were still getting obliterated until Y/N extended both palms upward and imagined a layer that separated her from the beams.        Taking a deep breath, she felt sweat trickle down her forehead, and then she lifted the layer. Slowly but surely, she lifted it higher and higher, a shout of strain enveloping her in the process as she reversed the blasts and made them fly back to the ship. But that didn’t stop the oncoming array of attacks.        Y/N didn’t have unlimited power. Opening the portal from Valhalla had taken out most of it, and holding off another assault didn’t seem that likely. As she stared at the guns above, the girl readied herself to take the onslaught when they suddenly turned to the sky and started firing there.        No one could see anything through the plumes of smoke and ash apart from a quickly approaching ball of light, that in a matter of seconds shot through Thanos’s ship, rendering it useless, and making it crash in the nearby lake.        “Y-Y/N?”        Her heart had never stuttered so much as it did when Y/N heard that voice. She was frozen in place, unable to move or even blink. Her hands trembled in fear. Maybe this wasn’t real, maybe he wasn’t there in front of her, and all of that was something her mind was making up because Peter wasn’t actually back, but when she turned around she saw him holding onto the gauntlet as if it was his last lifeline hiding in the dirt behind a broken cement block.        “You’re bleeding,” was her first remark as she looked him over head to toe. His lip was split, and there was a gash on his forehead, but other than that and probably some major bruising underneath the suit, he looked fine. Well, at least he was in one piece.        A sob like chuckle escaped the brown-eyed boy, and she didn’t even get a second to brace herself before his arms were wrapped around her, and pulling her in his body.        “We should’ve stayed on the bus,” he cried, but a smile played on his face.        “Tell me about it,” her chest quivered as did her lips before she smoothed back his hair. “Dad’s so pissed about it.”        “More pissed than when he walked in on us making out the first time?”        “Yeah,” Y/N let out a genuine laugh, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. “I think so.”        “Yes,” Tony’s voice invaded their moment as it cut through the comms. “I most definitely am, but we need to get the stones to the van before nut sack over there gets to them, so you might want to leave it for later.”        “You got something for me?” Carol motioned with her eyebrow at Peter, eyes flipping to the gauntlet. Safely, Y/N took it out from his grasp and handed it to the woman.        “I don’t know how you’re gonna get through all that,” his eyes roamed the oncoming army, a hand instinctively going to wrap around Y/N’s waist. He’d let go of her once before, he was not going to make that same mistake ever again.        “Don’t worry,” Wanda floated from above and settled herself behind Carol, eyes blazing red.        “She’s got help,” and the sight behind and in front of the two teenagers was the most marvellous one they’d ever seen and would ever see. Each and every heroine stood against Thanos’s army while the Valkyries made up the back, their winged mares neighing, swords high up in the air as a battle cry ripped through their throats.        “I uh got this chemistry test coming up. By any chance, anyone of you could help me with that?”        “Seriously?” Y/N snorted looking at her boyfriend. “We were dead just a few minutes ago and are fighting the biggest army in the universe. And you’re thinking about chemistry?”        “I just… I’d rather focus on anything but what’s in front of us.”        “We can think about chem and calculus and English after all this is done, I promise,” and for the first time in what seemed like forever, she was able to kiss Peter again. If it hadn’t been for the impending oncoming of the enemy, she’d sag into his hold and never let him go.        “But first – we beat the shit out of them. And that one’s mine,” Y/N sneered looking directly into the eyes of Proxima Midnight. She had been the one that had almost killed Nat and Wanda in front of her eyes. It was payback. If only for the fact that Nat was not there. She didn’t need verbal confirmation to know that her redheaded assassin wouldn’t show up. Everything had a price, and so did the fight for survival, but they’d be damned if they didn’t make her proud.        It was a terrifyingly glorious sight to see as the women stood between Thanos and the gauntlet; it was clutched safely in Carol’s arms as she flew through the enemy using her photon blasts to disintegrate them. Though not everything could go as smoothly as it had been.        Right as Scott powered up the time machine in the back of the van, Carol aiming straight for the dead centre of it, in one last attempt, Thanos threw his double-edged sword, and everyone was knocked back with the explosion, Carol’s grip loosening and letting go of the stones.        That’s when complete panic ensued. They couldn’t go through this again. He’d made it clear - this time it would be personal, and not half the universe but the whole fucking thing would be wiped out.        One by one the closest people to the gauntlet rushed to grab it, but even through that, Thanos was able to put it on. He would’ve snapped his fingers if not for Carol grabbing onto his palm and bending his fingers backwards with her bare hands, pure rage lighting up her eyes. Y/N scrambled towards them ready to knock Thanos down when she saw him remove the Power stone, blast Carol away from it. Then her father charged at the Titan.        A desperate grab at his hand, Tony’s horrified face, a punch to his side and shake, and Thanos was free as Y/N’s dad laid on the ground, struggling to get up. At that moment she didn’t even care for the stones, as she witnessed her father in pain. But then she caught the glimpse of a green glimmer.        “I am…” Thanos smirked putting his middle finger against his thumb, “inevitable.”        But when he clinked nothing happened. Just as Y/N expected.        “And I…” she ran towards her dad, “am,” one more step, one more step, “Iron Man.”    Dad’s so gonna kill me was the last thing Y/N thought before he snapped his fingers, and she grabbed onto his shoulder letting the power of the Infinity Stones course through her body alleviating the strain on Tony.        She’d never felt this kind of pain and euphoria at the same time. Y/N was invincible, unstoppable, a goddess in her own right but at the same time, her heart was just about to give out when she saw the enemy horde, one by one and then at a more rapid pace succumb to the same fate she had five years ago.        With a gasp she found herself approaching the edge of not coming back when someone called her and Tony’s names.        “Friday,” Pepper’s voice sounded like a dimming filter had been placed over it with a tinge of a beeping noise added to it. “Release the right arm.”        On command, Tony’s suit detached from the whole, and the part with the stones dropped to the ground, making Y/N’s hold let go as well.        The two Stark’s crumpled to the ground, panting and trying to get as much oxygen in their lungs as possible, as they crawled a bit to the side where they could lean against the remains of the compound.        “You are so grounded, you hear me?” Tony rasped bringing his daughter close to him, and holding Y/N’s head tightly against his chest. “Forever. You’re never leaving the house or ever thinking about it.”        “So that means we can watch movies all day every day for the rest of our lives?”        “If that means you staying safe, I’ll chain us to the movie room.”        And in the midst of all that rubble and sweat and blood, Y/N and Tony finally pulled in breaths of relief.        “How did you know it would work?”        “I uh, remember that time when aliens sorta kinda kidnapped me?”        “How can I forget the worst moments of my life… up until that point.”        “Well, I and the Guardians did that. It worked then, so I assumed it would work again.”        A beat passed with Tony’s face completely expressionless before engulfing Y/N in an even tighter hug. “I’ll kill Peter, I swear I’ll kill that braindead-knockoff-Kevin Bacon.”        “Not before I kill you both,” Pepper’s arms were instantly around her family as if she was shielding them from the rest of the world. “God, I hate being a Stark.”        They released a collective chuckle and tightened their hold on one another. “Also, that time when those aliens kidnapped me?”        “Yeah?” Tony sniffled.        “Turns out that's not really true. I uh can teleport."    "You what?"    Y/N rolled her eyes. "My powers come from somewhere, and it turns out you hooked up with an Asgardian. I now remember that night we had a huge fight, and I wished I’d be with mom instead of you... I guess they decided to show up then cause the next thing I knew, I was shooting through this weird rainbow beam, and ended up crashing on a weird spaceship. Thought I'd been abducted when instead, I had just run away from home.”        Surprisingly enough, both Pepper and her dad laughed. “Really Tony?” the redhead asked him. “So human women weren’t’ enough, had to go for the extraterrestrial ones as well?”        “What can I say,” he let her wipe away a tear that slid down his face before resting his head against Y/N’s. “I have impeccable taste. Just look at who I married.”        “Y-You got married?” she was stunned beyond belief. That’s when it truly kicked in that it had been five years. Five years they’d lived without her, and had created a life she didn’t know anymore where she fit in.        “Yeah,” Tony nodded, squeezing Y/N’s hand in reassurance. “You uh you also have a little sister.”        Wave after wave after wave of emotions rampaged her body and mind. First, it was hurt they’d do that, that they’d try and move and replace her, then it was confusion as to what was her part in this whole equation now, and then it was relief and joy. She still had her family, and no matter what had happened, Y/N was happy they’d tried to make some sort of a life even after Thanos. It had been the exact thing they’d fought for.        “Guess I can officially call you mom then, huh?” she looked at Pepper through a teary gaze. The feeling when she wrapped her arms around her was nothing short of coming home.        “You’ve always been my daughter,” she whispered in Y/N’s hair. “Always.”        “I love you 3000,” Y/N whispered back.        That set her off into an absolute fit of giggles, as she shook her head, and brought her in for another embrace. “This time, you’re in the low six to nine hundreds, Tony.”        “What?” Y/N asked, looking at her dad, confusion written all over her features.        He just shook his head. “I’ll explain later.”

***

       It took them all a couple of days to regroup and rearrange, but once that was done, once the tearful reunions and greetings were over, it was time for true celebration. Though, if someone had told Y/N that the same Loki that had stabbed his brother right in front of her eyes on the balcony of Stark Tower was the same one that practically sprinted towards Thor to embrace him, she’d tell them to fuck off.        Now they were all dressed in whatever best attire they could find, with smiles on their lips as they watched Pepper and Tony renew their wows. Y/N who had met Morgan less than forty-eight hours previously, stood tall and proud to their right as Rhodey helped her father stand up from his wheelchair and give Pepper a kiss.        “Come on,” Y/N whispered to Morgan, who was still unsure about the older sibling she’d met. Of course, not a day had gone by where either her dad or mom talked about her sister, but it was another thing to meet the girl. “I think Happy and Rhodes said they’re making burgers.”        Together they walked behind their parents, and no one could wipe off the smiles off their faces. Even Hank Pym was there, and it was a known fact that he and the Starks had never gotten along.        “Pete?” Y/N turned to her boyfriend, who instantly joined her other side, “will you take Morgan inside? I just need to quickly talk to Steve.”        “Yeah, yeah, sure,” he nodded, and couldn’t help the blush that spread across his cheeks as she pecked his lips.        As fast as she could she ran towards where they’d made a miniature of the time travel machine with the intention of Steve bringing the stones back to their correct place in time.       “I’m coming with you,” Y/N announced pulling on the bracelet on her palm that she'd hidden in the pocket of her pants, and stepping onto the platform. “And you won’t stop me.”        “Y/N, I don’t think your dad would agree to this,” Bruce remarked, his hand, much like her father’s in a sling, though where Bruce only had that and burns that would forever scar his right side, the prognosis for Tony to ever walk again on his own were slim. But that had never stopped a Stark.        “Of course, not,” she snorted tapping the device twice and letting the time travel suit encase her body. “Why do you think I ran? So he wouldn’t know about i-“ but it was just her luck as the man of the hour himself appeared out from behind the woods.        “Hey, hey, whoa, where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Tony exclaimed his wheelchair rolling towards the launchpad faster than Y/N thought was possible especially on the forest floor. “You are grounded!”       “Oh, come on, dad!”        “No,” he was surprisingly stern about this. “You zip it right now. I don’t wanna hear about it. Step off that thing right now, and get that piece of crap off of you,” he motioned towards the time travel suit and the bracelet.        “Please, dad, just… just trust me on this one. I’ll be back in a second. I just… I just wanna say goodbye to Nat. She’s the reason all of us are back here...”        With a sigh of defeat, because even a Stark couldn’t talk a Stark out of anything, Tony retreated. Y/N quickly skipped down the platform to give her father’s cheek a kiss, before joining Steve.        “Protect her. Whatever comes her way,” Tony said looking straight into Steve’s soul. This time he wouldn’t let his friend down.        “With everything I have.”        “Ok, you, dramatic gramps, let’s cut the cheesiness. Bruce?” Y/N grinned at the scientist.        “Ready to jump in three…” he started the countdown, “two…”    “See you in a minute,” Y/N winked and was gone.

***

       Putting the stones back was a whirlwind, and it made Y/N feel like a badass spy that had to infiltrate a base and then disappear unnoticed. She never really joined in on stealth missions, as that was not her forte, but fuck was it fun. Especially when Steve told her how he had to fight his old self on the first time around.        “I never knew how ridiculous that line was,” he chuckled, as they stepped onto Rocket’s ship, that he’d leant to them to get to Asgard, Morag and Vormir.        “I find it quite endearing. At least nowadays,” she nudged his shoulder and settled in one of the free seats as the Milano turned upwards to the sky and thrust them into space.        “Y/N, I’m sorry,” Steve murmured looking at her where she was strapped in place. “For everything. I thought I was doing what was right by not signing the Accords, and instead, I ripped our team apart. And with the whole Thanos thing… I’m sorry I couldn’t save you…”        That was loaded confession Steve had just put-upon Y/N, and as she was processing it, the overwhelming need to relieve him of the guilt eating away at her brain, a bright green light beeped on the panel, and they were pushed into the atmosphere of Vormir.        Cautiously the two exited and started to track their way to the sole mountain on the whole plane.        “You know, we’ve never been a team,” Y/N said looking up to where the two pillars reached into the sky. “Teammates fight together, follow orders, train together… that has never been us. We bicker, play pranks to the point of it walking the edge of mean, we spend our Friday nights curled up next to one another and throwing popcorn around. That’s not a team. That’s a family.”        “Evenings without you were a bore,” Steve said wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.        She wistfully sighed, skipping ahead before turning around and walking backwards. “I can only imagine. I mean with just birdbrain as the funny one and entertainment – I’m surprised you didn’t grey from the boredom.”        “Who knows, maybe I’ve just been dying my hair the whole time.”        “Oh, I’d like to see that process. You and Bucky sharing hair secrets is something I’d pay for.”        Steve snorted right as they approached what seemed to be carved out steps that lead to the top of the peak. “It’s actually Wakandan shea butter.”        “Seriously?” Y/N’s eyebrows were so far up her forehead, they merged with the creases there.        “Leaves everything smooth and silky.”        “When we get back,” she pointed at the Captain, “you’re gonna hook me up with your supplier.        “Gladly…” a small pause settled before he spoke up again. “So, why did you wanna tag along? Really?” Steve’s voice was raised so he could talk over the howling winds.       “Something uh someone said to me, made me think a bit. I dunno what’s gonna happen, but I wanna know if my hunch is right.”        But Steve didn’t get her to elaborate on what the fuck that meant when a floating cloak appeared before them. Y/N’s eyes were instantly white, and Steve had unsheathed the shield they’d gotten while back in the 70s.        “Steve, son of Sarah, Y/N daughter of Anthony,” an accented voice spoke to them. Y/N glanced at her companion from the side of her eye, only to see his mouth open in complete disbelief. “It has been a long time, Captain.”        “Son of a bitch, you’re still alive.”        “Indeed. As you know, I too once sought to acquire the stones, but alas, it was not what fate had intended.”        The way Steve was clenching his jaw made Y/N fear for his teeth. “And what was fate’s intention?”        “I am here, to be a guide to you, and all who seek the Soul stone.”        “Then lead the way,” Y/N murmured.        And without any struggle, Red Skull did as told.        “In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love,” the figure announced as Y/N made her way to where the cliff ended. “An everlasting exchange. A soul, for a soul… but you are not here to retrieve the stone, are you?”        “Nope, not one bit,” she said retreating and letting Steve open the case, Y/N’s gloved hands wrapping around the tiny glowing piece. With every step she took, she started to rethink her decision, but she’d come all this way just for this, she was putting her dad through more stress than necessary just for this.        Y/N was right on the edge, making Steve more nervous than ever. They’d come so far, with such high costs, he couldn’t lose her too. He wouldn’t recover, and he knew neither would Tony or the rest.        She turned around her, hair whipping at her face as she looked at Red Skull. “You said soul for a soul, right?”       “That is exact, my child.”       The winds were harsh at the top of the mountain, and the snow was not fluttery or light as it usually was during wintertime in New York. These were harsh icicles pelleting her skin.        “Y/N?” Steve cautiously asked, slowly approaching the woman, but she didn’t hear or see him. For a moment, her grip on the stone was so tight her knuckles turned translucent, and then she let go.        The stone glimmered like amber as it dropped down, down, down. When it touched the ground, the two beams that created the archway started glowing before bright light shot up into the sky, and Y/N had to shield her eyes from its intensity.        In that blink of an eye, she was transported away from the mountain and somewhere down below where they’d started their ascend. Her hands trembled as she opened them to see that the stone was no longer there.        And she was completely alone, as a matter of fact.        “No,” she looked at the expanse of water, as the light of the whole planet had dimmed leaving her alone and drenched in darkness. “No, no, no, no, no!” Y/N smashed her hands against the surface of it, anger coursing through her veins before a soft hand appeared on her shoulder.        “Baby Stark, you miss me?”       There, with that crooked smile of hers stood Natasha. Her hair was back to the red tone, blonde only covering the tips of the long tresses, but there she was – wearing that same ugly red and white suit as her and Steve.        “No,” Y/N sniffled scrambling up from the water and into her open arms. “Not one bit, you, self-sacrificial idiot.”       “That’s more of a Stark thing, isn’t it?” her whimpers could be heard all across the quiet planet, but that didn’t matter, given how both of the girls were crying.        “Yes, well, it shows you’ve spent time with my dad and Steve.”        The happiness pressing on the two was borderline suffocating. It was only when Natasha pulled back, bringing Y/N’s face between her palms.        “I’m so sor-“ but the girl was quick to shake her head.        “None of that matters,” she gripped the redhead’s forearms. “None of it. We won, and we’re back and we’re going home.”        The smile on the assassin’s face was the most dazzling thing Y/N had ever seen, and her breath would’ve been taken away if not for the screams of her Captain.        “Y/N!” Steve hollered as he dashed towards where he’d seen her laying in the pond, after having been knocked out by whatever the mountain did, but his panic evaporated when he saw who she was embracing.        “Nat?”        He couldn’t believe his eyes. She was there and just as tangible as his own skin and bones.        “Hey there, you, old fossil.”        He was still a few yards away, but he crossed that distance in no time, and before she could pull in a breath, Nat was up in his arms, both of their bodies shaking with tears of joy and laughter.        “You ever pull a stunt like this again, Romanoff, I swear I’ll make Fury put you on desk duty.”        “After all this, that sounds like a dream.”        “Be careful what you wish for,” Y/N piped up from the sides, grinning as she recalibrated her bracelet and moved towards the ship. “You might just get that.”        “Home?” her eyebrow raised in a sleek arch, as the other two Avengers ran up next to her and synched up.        “Home,” Nat whispered before being dragged down to the quantum realm.        The blink of an eye and the three of them stood back on the platform in the middle of the little forested area. Their suits retreated, and the trio’s beaming grins could’ve overpowered the brightly shining sun up above.        “Tasha?”        Nat’s head whipped to the side, seeing a completely stunned Clint, but she didn’t give her best friend a chance to regroup as she leapt off the podium and had her legs and arms wrapped around his middle and neck.        “Ten bucks on Clint trying to kill Nat for what she did,” Y/N muttered, leaning to the side as Steve, and she removed the bracelets, giving them back to a very much so confused Bruce, but not that confused Tony and Loki who had joined their little gang.        “That’s why you went back? To get Nat?” her dad asked, and Y/N shrugged. “How did you know it would work?”        “I uh I didn’t. But it was something his mom said,” she replied motioning at Loki. “She said about my powers and them being connected to the stones as the stones being connected to the universe. And that my powers are connected to my soul.”        Tony smirked, grabbing a hold of her hand and squeezing it. “You really are my daughter, aren’t you?”        A soft fluttery feeling erupted in her stomach. “Also, the words ‘soul for a soul’ was a pretty big give away, but that I found out only when I got there.”        As Pepper rushed out of the house, ready to kill her daughter for going back in time and her husband for allowing it, Bucky had slowly moved to stand next to his best friend.        “What happened to that ‘Happily Ever After’ you always dreamed about?”    He expected Steve to be upset about being back, blame Y/N for somehow coercing him to return, given how the two super soldiers had had a talk about him living out his life with Peggy. But instead, the blond was gnawing on his lip trying to keep a smile at bay.        “I think I just might have that right here,” he finally breathed out. “I uh I had my dance, but… I knew she’d be happy with or without me.”        “You sayin’ we wouldn’t be able to live without your old ass?” Sam smirked as he approached the pair, and it made Bucky snort.        “Obviously. But uh…” and that’s when he finally averted his attention to the thing strapped on his back. “I actually came to give you this.”        It was one thing to fight aliens, it was another to accept what Steve was offering.        “I can’t do that,” Sam shook his head looking at Bucky for support, but the man just stepped back and raised his hands in a ‘don’t involve me into this’ motion.        “Yeah, but I think you can,” Steve smiled at Sam. “Come on. Try it.”        Tentatively, as if it was made of glass, not vibranium, Sam, strapped his arm through the leathers and put the shield in front of him.        “How does it feel?” Steve asked, eyes surveying his friend from the side.        “Like someone else’s.”        “But it isn’t,” Steve shrugged, patting Sam’s back before the soldier pulled him in a hug.        “I’ll do my best.”        “And that’s why it’s yours.”        As they pulled back neither was ashamed of the tears that rolled down their cheeks. “And what will you do?” Sam sniffled holding onto the shield. “Join Bingo club?”        Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head, pushing at Sam’s arm and making him stumble. “Actually, something I should’ve done a while back.”        Both of his friend’s faces were the epitome of confusion as Steve marched away from them with sure steps, but that all changed when he called Nat’s name making her spin away from Clint and Wanda, and directly into his arms. A split second, and Steve’s lips were on her.        The cheering and whooping were just as intense as when Tony and Pepper renewed their vows by the lake. The only thing that made the two pull back was the desperate need for air, but even as they did so, their foreheads remained together.    "Where did that come from, Cap?"    "I've wasted too much time on dreams and 'what ifs'. It's time I act on them."    The pair grinned from ear to ear before a giant shadow loomed over them, and that truly made the pair pull away.        “I hope you’re okay with this,” Steve mumbled looking up at Bruce. No matter what and no matter for how long, he and Nat had had a thing, and the ex-Captain could never live with himself knowing Bruce was unhappy, but by the gentle smile on the professor’s face, he knew there was no animosity towards what was happening.        “Steve, I tried to bring Nat back because we’re family, not because of a kiss we shared. Besides,” he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, “I met someone along the way.”        Nat’s scarlet eyebrows shot to the middle of her forehead. There went the best spy in the world award. “Why didn’t you tell us?”        “Because we didn’t wanna label anything, especially with how the world was, but uh… I think we might give this a serious shot.”        “Who’s the lucky girl?” Nat’s signature smirk adorned her lips, and in all her life she would’ve never bet on the fact that the Hulk would ever blush.        “It’s uh it’s actually Betty… Ross.”        “Thunderbolt’s daughter?” the day had been full of surprises but even that beat everything in Clint’s book.        “Well we had kinda something going on before Hulk was even around, and we just reconnected after the snap… so trust me, I have nothing against you two going at it.”

***

       She could hear the laughter of everyone as Bruce told Steve and Nat to not create some sort of weird super soldier spy babies. The two of them were already a handful, and Y/N smiled at the sentiment.        “You okay?” Peter whispered into Y/N’s neck. It felt wrong to speak above that level, the scenery was way too calm for that. Even the waves across the lake were muted.        “For the first time in almost eighteen years, I can say, I am,” she gave him a tight smile, holding the glass case of where her dad’s first arc reactor was displayed. “He’s giving it up. The superhero life. For good now.”        Peter’s lips quirked up. “How do you know? This is your dad we’re talking about.”        “Yeah, but I think mom would actually commit murder if he even thought of being Iron Man…” Y/N looked over the lake.    It was bittersweet to know how much her family’s life had changed in those five years she was gone. She had a little sister now, Pep and Tony lived here in the countryside, and now he was passing up the mantle of Iron Man.    “I know he’ll always be there when we need him, when the real shit’s going down, but I’m happy about him not doing it anymore. He deserves a quiet life with mom and Morgan.”        “And you?” Peter observed how his girlfriend chewed on the bottom of her lip before releasing it once his thumb went to pull it out from between her teeth. “You deserve that as well with your family.”        “And we’ll have that,” Y/N intertwined her fingers with Peters, and pressed a kiss to them, “but first, we’ll protect the Earth. I think that’s why he gave this to me. Sort of a symbol of – now it’s your turn.”        Peter’s brows furrowed. “Your turn?”            “You’re looking at the one and only Iron Maiden.”        “Like the band?” he smirked.        “Or like the torture weapon. We’ll see what happens.”        He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he kissed Y/N’s exposed shoulder, but their moment was disrupted when someone lightly tapped against her back.        “Dad said to come and get you,” Morgan nervously rolled back and forth on her feet. “We’re making cheeseburgers and having juice pops after that.”        “Really?” Y/N smirked taking Morgan’s extended palm and standing up, the arc reactor securely held in her other hand, and Peter’s hand on the small of her back. “Sounds like the perfect combo.”

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A/N: I’ve been working on this the whole day, but I apologise if there are any grammar errors. Some of the dialogue taken from the actual movie script.

P.S. feedback is always appreciated

P.S.S. my tags are always open :)

[apollo-writes-random-shit]

omg!! please please please do gasoline with race!!

Ahhhhhh! Sorry, this took so long! I wrote this like three or four times and I’m still not 100% happy with it lol. I did some research and it turns out the song is actually about Halsey’s struggles with mental health while being in the spotlight so I used that but don’t worry! This has a happy ending!

Song requests

AO3 copy

Are you insane like me?

He was pretty sure every kid at some point had wanted to be famous and here he was. Gone from causal dancing to acting and singing, all thanks to a small show that had been secretly visited by a talent scout. Multiple doors had opened for the young teen but with the fame came extreme expectations and with those expectations came extreme stress. 

Everything seemed to be dictated by his manager, one William Snyder. As grateful as he was for the jobs Snyder had landed him, he was driving Race insane. Every single little thing was scrutinised, from the things he ate and drank, to even his hairstyle when he went out. His smile had to be perfect every time to 'keep up his image' but it got tired having to look perfect all the time. 

Don't get him wrong, he adored his fans but at the same time, he wished he could go out without being stopped every five minutes for photos and videos, being made to repeat lines constantly. 

Been in pain like me?

Every day left him exhausted, even if he had only been shopping. Everything had to be perfect to make sure he avoided any bad publicity. He was still young so why ruin his career so early? 

Sighing, Race stared at his schedule. Countless practises for both dances and an upcoming audition filled every day, leaving him with almost no time for himself. He had only a few hours after evening practice and he knew he'd spend most of that sleeping. 

He could already feel the pain that would come with everything. Today's practise had already wiped him out, body flowing with pain. After being scouted, Race had discovered muscles he didn't know existed thanks to the pain that came with the job. 

However, he could deal with the physical pain but the mental pain? Not so much. He knew the others were getting worried about him but it didn't stop him from following all of Snyder's strict rules...Even if it caused him to throw up some mornings and night before practice. 

Bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me? Just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me?

Well, he followed most of the rules but Race liked to have fun, even if that meant drinking some nights, whether it be cheap beer or expensive champagne, he'd take it, only to pour whatever remained down the drain the next morning in shame before scrubbing his teeth to get rid of any hint of the alcohol that was forbidden.

That's what he was currently doing, letting the taste of his toothpaste take over the taste of morning breath and expensive champagne. Rising the toothbrush, he chuckled softly as he licked his lips, savouring the artifical taste of bubblegum. Despite the event happening over a week ago, Race could still see Jack's face when he walked out of the bathroom carrying it. He knew he wasn't a kid but that wouldn't stop him from buying the 'kiddie' toothpaste, no matter how 'disappointed' it made his older brother. 

Would you use your water bill to dry the stain like me?

Walking out to the kitchen, he noticed the damp paper resting on the table, causing him to shake his head. He had spilt a little of his drink on the table and mopped it up with the closest thing which appeared to be the bill he opened last night. 

Not that it mattered, he could still read it which meant he'd be able to know who to pay. That and he had read it last night and despite getting drunk, his sharp mind still remembered every word. 

He would concern himself with that later, instead focusing on making his breakfast smoothie before rushing out that door, hoodie pulled over his head to hide his face in the short run down his driveway. Sure, no one was around but that didn't mean he wasn't paranoid about being spotted. He already had to deal with stalkers and so far, none of them had found his house and he'd like to keep it that way thank you very much. 

Softly singing along to the radio, he grinned to himself as set off, heading towards the dance studio. Sure, Snyder was going to be there to see his progress which meant he'd have to work harder. At least Romeo and Tommy always gave him good criticism instead of berating him when they taught him a new move. Even in Tommy Boy would jokingly kick his feet into the right position while telling him to keep up. Out of everyone he had been taught by, the two were his favourite. Tommy would teach him the dances while Romeo took care of the acting and like almost everyone, they thought Race should get rid of the man. 

Are you high enough without the Mary Jane like me?

Shaking the thought out of his head, he pulled into the car park, flipping his hood back up before speedwalking inside. 

It was only when he got inside the studio that he relaxed, something that always happened. Sure, most of the time sometimes he'd walk out and there would be a small crowd outside the building which he found awkward considering he was still all sweaty and smelly. There was only so much a towel and deodorant could do until he had access to a shower. Sure, the dance studio had showers but honestly, Race didn't like them. He also felt awkward showering in a building where his fans might find a way to sneak in. He might love his body but he didn't feel like having nudes of him spread across the internet where anyone could access it.

"Damn, look who finally showed up."

"I'm late by one minute Tommy Boy. Traffic was horrible." 

"Whatever, warm-up you dork." The Australian chuckled, scrolling through the playlist, trying to decide which routine to have his friend start with. Subtly, he clenched his jaw as another presence filled the room. He really didn't like when Snyder was in the studio but unfortunately, he had no say. He knew the man liked to see that his client was actually making progress. Sure, some of his dancers would have their manager show up occasionally but Snyder came twice a month to take notes on Race before taking the teen to the side to lecture him, almost like he was trying to undermine everything he had been taught. He really hated him in all honestly but hey. He couldn't fire him, only Race could and considering the number of gigs Snyder had landed him, he doubted he'd be let go anytime soon. 

Race shook out his limbs after stretching, pretending that he didn't sense the tension between his manager and instructor. If he ignored them, he could actually focus properly. He had learnt during the first few sessions that Snyder had sat in, that if he let the tension distract him, he'd slip up and get a long lecture about how he had to 'focus more if he wanted to nail a role'. So, he just pretended to be alone, letting the music flow through him. As cheesy as it sounded, Race liked to pretend that he was one with the sound. The noise was his dance partner, the leader of the pair. He followed its gentle coaxing willingly, allowing it to control every step.

It gave him a high that nothing could replicate, no matter how hard he had tried in the past. Dancing gave him something that he couldn't explain. Something that couldn't be described. He was addicted to it.

He allowed himself to come to a stop, his partner leaving him with a gentle caress and smile. Race grinned at himself in the mirror, slowly coming down from his high, allowing himself to relax, calmly walking over to his duffle bag, yanking his towel out before wiping his face off. As much as he loved dancing, he didn't like the sweat that came with it. 

Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?

Tommy's compliments were cut off by the clearing of someone's throat and the two turned to look at Snyder who was lounging in a chair in the corner. "Your turns were sloppy Higgins. You fell out of a few turns, your feet weren't pointed during one of your jumps and your arms looked strange. You need to work on those."

"With all due respect sir, I believe he did quite well."

"Clearly you weren't paying close enough attention to your student Manchester. We all know he can do better. If he nails this video, even more doors will open for him and surely you want that for him."

"I do but."

"Then you'll allow me to critique my client. I want what's best for him after all." 

Race sighed. "I'll work harder. It's okay." Sure, he knew he was overworked as it was, but he could always try harder. There was always room for improvement after all.

Tommy just shook his head, knowing what Snyder wanted was a fat paycheck. Race wanted to please everyone and that included Snyder, even if the man pushed him past the point of breaking. Once discovering that Race had an empty basement, Snyder had pushed him into turning it into a mini studio for extra practice and would often visit to watch and offer more 'corrections' when really, he spent most of the time on his phone, only sparing glances up at the mirrors, pushing the teen to almost the point of collapse before lecturing him at the way he had become so wobbly. He didn't care that the boy was tearing himself apart in hopes of earning the praise he had been craving all his life. Race lived to entertain people and so far, he had failed to fully impress Snyder. 

Do the people whisper 'bout you on the train like me?

Buttons sighed as he listened to the faint sound of music, vibrating through the wooden floor. He was there to do final adjustments to Race's costume for the video tomorrow and wasn't surprised that he'd be found in the makeshift studio. Whispers floated around not only Race's friends but some of Buttons' friends in the clothing industry. Race seemed ready to fall apart and it was a waste of talent. He was being pushed too far and from Buttons had learnt, had recently been pushed into modelling as well, taking up even more of his time, leaving him more exhausted than normal. 

Saying that you shouldn't waste your pretty face like me? And all the people say...

Shaking his head, Buttons headed down steps, rapping on the door to inform the other of his presence, watching as he stumbled slightly. Race had been sucked into the whirlwind of fame, dragged into an uncaring industry, one deadset on farming out copies and copies, ones that would give them the cash they craved. 

It destroyed every member they took in, ruining their minds and bodies until they were dumped, left to eventually fade away, replaced with a newer shiny version. As famous as someone was, it was surprisingly hard to be remembered. Making something that everyone remembered for years to come might be somewhat easy, but having your name in everyone's mind for years? That was much harder. 

Fame was a dream for a lot of people but that dream would turn into a nightmare quickly. 

You can't wake up, this is not a dream, you're part of a machine, you are not a human being.

Buttons loved seeing his work in videos but looking at the way his crafts looked on Race's skinny shaking body made him feel sick.

"Really. You need to take better care of yourself."

"Gotta look my best Buttons." Race just grinned, brushing off the concerns like normal.

"Tony seriously. Everyone's telling you the same thing. You need to eat more." The tailor shook his head, scanning the other's body to spot anything off with it. "You always look ready to collapse and you're shaking!"

"Buttons...I'm just following what's set out for me."

"Don't you think it's going a bit far?"

"Nah. It's fine. After all, it could be worse." Race just shrugged, holding his arms up when prompted. 

With your face all made up, living on a screen.

While talking to Buttons was always fun, Race was relieved to see him leave. Whenever he spoke to someone alone, they always told him to drop his manager. That he looked like he was five seconds away from being rushed to the nearest hospital. 

It didn't help that Snyder had become stricter later, criticizing his body and form more than normal, not caring that he was breaking his spirit. He was one of many, easily replaceable in the mind of the industry, something that Snyder liked to remind his client of constantly, claiming that it was 'in his best interest that he followed everything to the letter', forcing him to practise harder whenever he strayed from the harsh guidelines he set out.

Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline.

Requesting time off just brought another lecture. Hell, Race had to beg and fight to be allowed to take his birthday off and out of everything the man had done, that's what pissed Race's friends and family off the most. Jack had been close to demanding the man's address or phone number, only for Davey to stop him. It was no secret that Jack and Snyder had bad blood, disagreeing over what was best for the dancer/actor. Jack had known him all of his life while Snyder had only known him for roughly two years. 

Race hated the relationship between his manager and older brother but did his best to never let it trouble him. He desired to be on his A-game at all times after all and any form of tension would throw him off, only causing him to work harder than any other day. Snyder constantly likened him to every other young celebrity out there, reminding him all the time that he was replaceable, that he had to work harder if he wanted to keep up with the industry. That he was...Already stumbling behind. 

I think there's a flaw in my code.

The man acted like Race wasn't trying at all...That all the hours he put in meant nothing. That Race was acting like he 'didn't care about his job'. Like he was...Broken in some way and that strict behaviour just increased when he had handed him a slip of paper given to him by a professional. A diagnosis for depression, anxiety and bipolar disorder. He hadn't been super happy to find out that his client was mentally ill and that the paperwork even pointed out that he was overworked and just pushed him harder. 

Voices pushed at him from both sides. Drop him some said. He's working you too hard others chimed in. You need to work harder if you want to succeed in the industry kid one kept saying and for some reason, he kept listening to the single voice, despite the fact he knew he wasn't meant to. He needed to drop him and he would, after this music video and movie audition though.

Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold.

Race sighed, shaking his head. Focus Higgins. In a month, you can find someone new. Darcy, Bill and Kath can find you a new one. He stretched, smiling at himself in a mirror. He'd be okay, he could last a month. 

He pretended Snyder's not so subtle jabs at his diagnosis. The man hadn't been pleased when he found out about Race's ADHD, clearly 'trying' to hide the way he felt about the whole thing. That he didn't think Race was 'unstable'. That he was 'broken'.

Are you deranged like me? Are you strange like me? Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?

He growled in annoyance when he fell out of a turn again, glad he was alone. It wasn't his fault he was so stressed! He was being pulled at every end, each person claiming they just wanted the both for him. With his mental health 'issues' dumped on top of that, Race wanted to scream and tear his hair out. He hated this. Hated the worried looks from his friends and family. Hated the harsh tone from Snyder used when he was giving him 'constructive' criticism. 

He wasn't at fault here! He was just trying hard so why did it seem like everyone was trying to pull him to their side? Sure, what he was doing wasn't the healthiest but he had to work hard to keep up with the fast pace workforce. Sure, he could stand to gain a few pounds but he could always do that later. 

Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me? Pointing fingers 'cause you'll never take the blame like me?

"I'm just worried Race..."

"I know Jack. I know you hate Snyder, that he's an asshole, that you think he's ruining my life. But, without him, I wouldn't have gotten so many gigs."

"Tony, please. You need to drop him. You don't look healthy, you're never able to go out anymore, you're being worked to the bone." Jack frowned as he looked at his brother. "I get that you love your job but you need to take time for yourself as well."

"Look. I'm already planning to drop him after this audition...It's just a month Jack. Please. Give me that and I'll drop him."

"Promise? I'm sick of his bullshit Tony..."

"I promise."

And all the people say, you can't wake up, this is not a dream.

"Again." 

Race nodded, restarting the music before throwing himself into the dance again.

"You're distracted, Higgins."

"Sorry, sir. Just got a lot on my mind lately..." 

"You need to focus. If you don't you'll fall behind and fail. Restart."

You're part of a machine, you are not a human being. With your face all made up, living on a screen.

Race honestly wasn't sure if Snyder even knew what he was talking about when it came to his dancing but still, he took his words to heart, letting them crash through his weak walls again as he started the dance yet again, letting the music wrap itself around him, allowing it to bring him both a familiar rush and familiar comfort. 

The comfort that came with the music was his favourite kind of comfort. He never had to seak it out. Never had to send a text or make a call. All he had to do was press a button and it was there, ready to hug him and bring him a calm distraction from whatever was bothering him, sometimes wiping away any tears that would run down his cheeks, drawing a watery smile from him.

Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline.

"What the fuck do you mean you're firing me? I'm the one who got you this damn role! You would be a nobody without me Higgins and you know that!" 

Race looked at the man's angry face. "Leave my house, Snyder. We're done here. While I am thankful for the work you have done, I need to focus on what I feel is right for me and I believe what is right is us parting ways."

"You're making a big mistake Higgins. I can ruin your damn life! I got you that role and I can fucking take it away from you! You'll regret this! I'll fucking leak your damn address!" 

I think there's a flaw in my code.

"You can not ruin my life, Snyder. You even try and I'll make sure everyone knows what you've been doing. I'll let everyone know how hard you've pushed me. How you've forced me to dance right after throwing up. Believe me, Snyder. I can and will let them know. I've dealt with this for too long."

These voices won't leave me alone.

"You've let those people poison you! They know nothing!"

"Romeo and Tommy have been working in this industry for years. Longer than you have and I trust their judgement."

"I'll get their places shut down!"

"Keep talking Snyder...You're just digging yourself a bigger hole."

"The fuck are you talking about?"

Race smirked, holding up his phone. "I've looked up the laws. We have a one-party consent law here meaning I can record this conversation without your permission and that's what I have done. I recommend you leave now."

Snyder scoffed, storming out. "You'll regret this!"

"And you'll regret being so strict! Goodbye William~" 

Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold.

[creative-type]

wake from death (and return to life) iv

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22564141/chapters/53920291

Previous: https://creative-type.tumblr.com/post/621667466339385344/wake-from-death-and-return-to-life-chapter-iii

.

Kuina spent the next three days learning her way around Belo Betty’s ship. As promised, Dragon soon departed, disappearing like a mirage on a hot day, gone as if he’d never existed. He had been the one person who seemed to actually wanted Kuina on board, and with him gone Kuina felt quite alone. She spent her days doing what Lyudmila told her to do, when she told her to do them, fulfilling the obligation she had to the Revolution for getting her out of Loguetown and hoping it was enough to keep them from throwing her headfirst into the sea.

Practically speaking, that meant doing dozens of chores while Revolutionaries showed her the ropes. Literally. Kuina spent much of her time cleaning what needed to be cleaned, hauling what needed to be hauled, and mending what needed to be mended while learning the basics of sailcraft. Darareaksmey in particular seemed to take great delight in mocking Kuina’s ignorance, which according to the other crew meant she liked her.

The work was a welcome distraction, reminding Kuina of the menial chores she used to do around the dojo before she was old enough to learn the sword. And more importantly, the people around her liked to talk. The Revolution never openly discussed their plans when she was around, but Kuina was such a silent fixture that they seemed to forget when she was in the background swabbing the deck, or washing dishes, or whatever other odd job she’d been assigned at that moment.

What she learned was illuminating. Belo Betty wasn’t just some Revolutionary nobody—she was in command of the entire East Blue. The ship Kuina was currently on was hers, Dragon somehow able to manage travel by himself from the Grand Line for a mission of strategic importance.

Aria de Gris was another leader, but of only a single ship that had been damaged in the previous battle. She and a portion of her crew had joined with Betty to see Dragon back to the Grand Line and talk strategy. Dragon had never planned to return with them to the battlefield, his departure interrupted by Kuina’s sudden appearance.

It was childish, but Kuina bitterly wished he would have just taken her with her. She could feel Zoro’s lead stretching by the second, and the thought of falling even further behind made her want to pull her hair out.

The Army wasn’t even going to let her fight.

“Better,” Dara said as she inspected the rope she’d given for Kuina to practice her sailor’s knots. “This one almost looks like it’d hold together during an East Blue squall.”

If she was nervous about their nearing destination, she didn’t show it. With quick, nimble fingers she undid Kuina’s handiwork and returned the rope. “Now do it faster.”

Kuina grudgingly did as she was told. The noonday sun beat down overhead, cooled by a delicious sea breeze. After three days Kuina was almost used to the sway of the ship, but didn’t think she could ever feel comfortable surrounded by so many people crammed in such a small space. “I don’t know why you bother. I’ll be gone in a few days.” Kuina said.

“Pfft, you wouldn’t last a week on the Grand Line in your state,” Dara said. “You’re lucky you’re a quick study—it took Lizard three times as long to get half as good as you are now.”

“I can hear you,” Elizabeth said irritably as she passed out rations to Kuina and the women minding her. The galley had been made into a makeshift war room debating last-minute preparations for landing later that day, with Lyudmila given strict instructions to shoot Kuina if she went within twenty feet of its doors.

“I know,” Dara said breezily. “That’s why I said it.”

Elizabeth made a rude gesture that only made Dara laugh. Scowling, Elizabeth asked, “What are you even doing out here? Shouldn’t you be in the meeting? It sounded important.”

“Boss knows I don’t have the patience for that kind of stuff,” Dara said. “She’ll let me know what I need to know. This is much more amusing.” She turned her attention to Kuina. “Watch out, you’re tying it backwards again.”

Kuina gave it another attempt. “Where are we even going?”

Elizabeth and Dara exchanged looks before turning to Lyudmila, awaiting her judgement. Kuina held her breath, giving up on even the pretext of industry. Of everything she’d overheard, no one had breathed a word of their ultimate destination, let alone any details about the supposed war that was being waged there. The veritable brick wall only whetted Kuina’s curiosity.

Sometimes she regretted not reading the paper.

“You can’t keep it from me forever,” Kuina pointed out. “Is it Tolouse?”

Elizabeth let out a huff and turned away, giving a sarcastic wave as she walked back to the galley. “I’m not getting into trouble for this.”

“Coward!” Dara called before grinning at Kuina. “How’d you figure it out?”

“Been headed dead east for three days. There aren’t that many islands it could be,” Kuina said. She shrugged, picking at the ropes. “Besides, you hear a lot of interesting things from the pirates who come from that way. The king doesn’t seem all that popular—easy to stir up trouble there.”

“You’re half-right,” Dara said.

“Dara…” Lyudmila said in a warning tone.

“Fine, fine,” she said, flopping dramatically on her back, hands tucked behind her head. “The big fight’s over anyway. This is just a pitstop.”

“To switch ships?” Kuina said, glancing at Lyudmila. As always, it was difficult to guess what she was thinking, but she made no further effort to censure their conversation.

“And gather the rest of our crew, yeah,” Dara said. “Then we’re getting the hell out of this backwater and going back to where we belong. East Blue is bor-ing. Don’t know why Boss was so interested in coming, to be honest.”

There was a pause, and Dara turned over to her stomach, propping her head up on her hands. Her eyes flickered to Lyudmila, who shook her head slightly. She sighed. “Haven’t had a decent fight in weeks.”

“You just came from a war,” Kuina said, nonplussed.

“An East Blue war,” Dara corrected. “And thus one that was very boring. Everyone knows East Blue isn’t worth anything in a fight.”

Kuina smirked. “Maybe you haven’t been fighting the right people.”

The glint in Dara’s eyes turned wicked. “Sweetheart, I like you. In fact, I think you’re hilarious. But you underestimate the strength of the Grand Line, and it’s going to get you killed if you’re not careful.”

“Maybe, but all I’ve heard is a lot of talk without anything to back it up,” Kuina said.

“That’s bait,” Dara said, grinning, “and I’ll not bite—Oh hello there, Boss. How’s tricks?”

Kuina didn’t jump, but her hand did move instinctively to her katana as de Gris exited the galley, breaking away from a cluster of Revolutionaries exiting the war room to approach them. She acknowledged Dara’s greeting with a nod. “The situation’s changed.”

Lyudmila went very still, while Dara and Kuina exchanged confused looks. “How do you mean, Boss?” Dara asked.

“Reinforcements arrived before the Revolution could completely secure their defenses. They punched a hole through our line and recaptured the armory, jammed communications, the works. We’re lucky Trini was able to get a message through at all. It sounds like the situation’s hot and not in our favor.”

“What?!” Dara exclaimed. “We had the city completely taken! Their king was in chains.”

“Not anymore,” de Gris said.

Dara jumped to her feet. “What about the rest of the crew?”

“As far as I know they’re fine, but we’re going to need all hands on deck if we’re going to scrape out a win.” She looked down at Kuina, the scar running down her cheek pulling her mouth into an unhappy grimace. “Alright, Swordsman. Time for you to put your money where your mouth is.”

Far above them, the Revolutionary flag snapped proudly in the wind. Eyes narrowed with suspicion, Kuina tried to discern the older woman’s intentions. “You’re going to let me fight?”

“I need to make sure you’re good enough to not die. Big difference.” With a whisper of steel, de Gris unsheathed her sword. “Prove to me there’s some bite behind all that bark.”

Beside her, Dara paled. “Boss, you can’t be serious…”

“It’s just a skill check. I need to know what level she’s at, and this is the easiest way to do it.”

They didn’t think she could win. Kuina threw the rope she’d been working on aside and climbed to her feet. Bowing slightly to de Gris, she said, “I’m honored to accept your challenge.”

“What are you, some kind of samurai?” de Gris paused to fish out a cigarette, putting it to her lips and lighting it one-handed. “You have till I finish this to show—”

In a flash her blade was up to meet Kuina’s. Even holding it one-handed, de Gris was able to effortlessly stop the full weight of Kuina’s blow. Dara and Lyudmila scattered as a cat’s grin stretched across de Gris’ face, smoke curling from the end of her cigarette. “Not bad, not bad at all. And here I thought you were nothing but dojo trash.”

She pushed Kuina back, and for a moment the two circled one another, each trying to get a measure of their opponent. Kuina was vaguely aware that they had attracted the attention of the rest of the Revolution, and saw Lyudmila whispering fiercely in the ear of Belo Betty.

“Eyes on me, kid!” de Gris shouted before exploding in a flurry of strikes. Her movements were unlike anything Kuina had ever seen. With impossible quickness she closed the distance between them. Her footwork, the angles she used to attack, were all new and unfamiliar. Kuina, used to fighting against sabers and katanas, was quickly driven to the defensive, each reaction a heartbeat too slow to do anything else as she tried to process the foreign fighting style.

De Gris moved with liquid grace, reminding Kuina more of a dancer than a swordsman as she fought. Each step was economical and precise, her blade flashing from every angle, seemingly simultaneously. Kuina was forced to take a step back, then another, but was quickly running out of room to retreat.

But even as she was being driven back, Kuina began to sense the pattern in her steps, the method to her mad dance. The rapier a piercing weapon. It depended on thrusts and parries over slashing attacks. The blade didn’t have the mass to manage a single, crushing blow, relying instead on speed and precision.

Well then. It was time to disrupt de Gris’ timing.

Kuina feinted a forward thrust, and in the half-second it took de Gris to defend jumped backward onto the ship’s railing. A ripple of surprise rose through the crowd as she ran across the iron rails until she reached the middle of the ship, leaping toward the boom of the foremast.

“Very impressive, if you’re a monkey,” de Gris called. “But I thought you were going to fight—”

But Kuina didn’t stop. She caught an unsecured line and used her momentum to swing behind de Gris, aiming an attack at her exposed back. As expected, de Gris was able to evade with ease, and the bones in Kuina’s arms jolted with the force of her blade cutting through the deck before somersaulting back to her feet.

“You don’t like giving people time to talk, do you,” de Gris said. “And you do realize we have to actually sail on this ship, right?”

“Send me a bill,” Kuina said, grinning wildly. She pulled her sword from the wood in time to deflect de Gris’ rapier, melting from defense to offense as she tried to use their reversed positions to force de Gris into the same limited space she had just escaped from.

It was damnably difficult. De Gris wasn’t the strongest opponent Kuina had faced, but she was the most technically proficient. It had been years since Kuina had needed this level of focus in a fight, and she could feel the rust in her movements.

Without even realizing it, she’d let herself grow complacent, and de Gris was exposing that weakness now.

All the more reason to get to the Grand Line as soon as possible. The East Blue had nothing more to offer her. On the world stage it was nothing, which meant she was nothing...

Blood roared in Kuina’s ears as she failed to get anywhere near de Gris. Kuina took greater risks, forced her body to move all the faster to match her opponent’s feline grace. De Gris’s thin, weightless blade was no match to Shimotsuki steel, and Kuina put the full weight of her rage behind each attack.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered a flicker of surprise in de Gris’s eyes a moment before Kuina’s blade clashed against her own. With a quick flick of the wrist Kuina batted it aside, just as de Gris had done at the start of her fight, using her own momentum against her to gain inside position.

Kuina attacked without thinking, and she was lucky de Gris was as fast as she was. Her blade passed by the tip of her nose by a hairbreadth, slicing what was left of her cigarette down to the pale orange filter.

The silence couldn’t have lasted for more than a moment, but it felt like it captured an eternity. De Gris’s eyes followed the path of the still-burning cigarette now rolling down at their feet. She sighed, sheathing her sword and said, almost to herself, “Is that all?”

“What do you mean?” Kuina demanded. “Clearly I—”

“You had until the cigarette was gone to show what you were made of. Well, time’s up. This fight is over.”

“You’re just scared because I was winning,” Kuina said.

The words struck a nerve. A muscle in de Gris’s jaw twitched and her nostrils flared slightly as the air around her shifted, circling like the winds of a hurricane with de Gris as its malevolent eye. Kuina shifted back into a defensive stance, keeping half an eye on Belo Betty. The Revolutionary commander had her arms crossed over her chest, flag nowhere in sight.

“You really thought you had a chance,’ de Gris said. “You couldn’t feel the distance between us.” She shook her head in disgust. “And you call yourself a swordsman.”

She reached for another cigarette, paused to take a deep drag. When she finally looked at Kuina, she saw nothing but contempt.

“Hit me with your best shot, kid,” Aria de Gris said, raising her sword in languid challenge. “I’ll show you how much you have yet to learn.”

Kuina’s grip on her sword tightened. The blood boiling in her veins had calmed enough for her to realize she’d said a very stupid thing when surrounded by a ship full of enemies who likely wanted to kill her, but she wasn’t afraid of de Gris or her sword, and her pride refused to back down from such a grievous insult.

This was her chance to prove herself to these people.

Kuina took a deep breath, steadied her racing heart. She could feel the power around de Gris. The older woman was settled, like a table with a low center of gravity. She wouldn’t be easily overturned, but Kuina was confident. She was ready. She had trained her whole life for this moment, for the chance to be acknowledged as a skilled swordsman and not just a little girl playing with a blade

Her father once said that a true warrior wielded the blade of ten thousand men. Maybe she wasn’t there yet, but she was worth more than this one.

Kuina lifted her katana above her head, ready to end this in one strike. “Thousand man—”

De Gris was inside her guard before she could finish speaking.

Kuina moved on instinct, but de Gris batted her sword aside as if it were an inconvenient fly. With her free hand she reached inside the long coat hanging from her shoulders. In one fluid moment she pulled out a gun, cocked it, and pushed the cold metal barrel under Kuina’s chin.

It was horror in slow motion. Kuina flung herself back just as de Gris shouted, “Dara, now!”

An unseen force plowed into the back of Kuina’s knees. She crumpled face-first into the deck, white light flashing across her vision as her forehead cracked against the wood. Attempts to roll away were stopped by a pressure against the wrist of her sword hand and a vice-like grip around her ankles.

Kuina looked up to see Aria de Gris’s foot on her wrist and her gun between her eyes. Twisting frantically, Kuina couldn’t help but let out a yelp of alarm that Darareaksmey’s arms, head, and torso had her legs pinned firmly to the ground, the rest of her body seemingly melded with the deck.

“What the hell?!” Kuina exclaimed. “This was a duel! You...you cheated!”

“It was a skill check,” de Gris said flatly. “Do you think people in a war are going to line up for you all nice and neat, one at a time? Do you think they’re going to play by some arbitrary rules?”

She lowered her gun and sheathed her sword. “I’ve no use for a soldier with more ego than common sense. I don’t care how big a hot-shot you were in your little backwater dojo. In the real world, you aren’t worth shit.”

Xxx

“You know, you don’t have anything to be ashamed of. I’ve not seen anyone do that well against the boss in, well, a long time.”

“Please stop talking, I am begging you.”

Kuina ground the heels of her palms against her forehead, hoping to counterbalance the terrible pounding currently beating against the inside of her skull. She’d suffered from headaches on and off since being pushed down the stairs of her father’s dojo, and falling face-first into the deck had triggered a monster between her temples.

Dara was undeterred. “I wondered why Dragon wanted you so bad, but I can definitely see it.”

The island of Toulouse was a tiny speck on the horizon. With a favorable wind at their back, they’d soon arrive at the near-hopeless battle. Kuina didn’t know what was going to happen to her once they did, and worse, she didn’t care.

With the change in situation, Lyudmila had been relieved of babysitting duty in favor of joining the rest of the ship’s leadership in their makeshift war room. The mood of the Revolution had shifted, men and women moving with increased urgency as they sharpened weapons, prepared guns, and tried to coax every bit of speed from the brigantine, their faces drawn in grim, serious lines. Every once in a while a bark of nervous laughter would punctuate the air like cannonshot, but it was quickly hushed. Everyone knew that the situation was dire.

Dara, whose disregard for meetings extended even when the Revolution was on the verge of defeat, had taken over Kuina-watching duty. But even her enthusiasm had its limits, and every few minutes she would look out at the approaching island, squint as if she were trying to suss out the enemy position on that tiny black speck, her knee bouncing with nervous energy.

“Wonder what Boss will have you do,” she said absentmindedly.

“Probably nothing,” Kuina said. “You heard her: She’s got no use for me.”

Dara snorted. “Oh, please. Compared to the trouble I got myself into when I first joined, that was nothing. It’s an, ah...learning process. Being part of a group, I mean.”

That wasn’t very reassuring, but Kuina had no desire to argue. “What the hell was that trick you did, anyway? I never saw you coming.”

“Oh, my devil fruit?” Dara said, eyes brightening. She raised an arm, and in the time it took Kuina to blink, the space from her hand to her elbow went paper thin. The change was so sudden, so utterly bizarre, that Kuina couldn’t help but recoil away from it. Dara laughed, and just as quickly put her arm back to rights again.

“Flat Flat Fruit,” she explained. “Not much good for fighting, but sneaking around? Easy-breezy.”

“Just how many devil fruit users are on this ship?” Kuina asked.

“Right now? I don’t know everyone on Betty’s crew, but I think it’s just three. Once we hook up the rest of the crew there’ll be a couple more to show you.” Another squinting look at the horizon, more bouncing of her knee.

There was a comfortable lull in the conversation while Kuina massaged her aching head. A gull screeched overhead, making at least one Revolutionary jump. The moment quickly passed, and Dara slapped her palms against her thighs. “Well, I need to get ready. You just brought that backpack with you, right? You don’t have any armor or anything to put on, just in case?”

Just her mask. Kuina lugged herself to her feet and followed Dara belowdecks. For the first time, no one was paying attention to her, the Revolutionaries too busy with their own preparations. Kuina was glad to be invisible once more. Despite Dara’s reassurances, shame coiled around her belly, constricting like a snake squeezing the life out of its latest meal. It was impossible to walk with her head held high after her disgraceful performance. De Gris’s voice echoed in her mind, conflating with the voice of countless others she’d heard since childhood. The scar that drug across her chest pulsed with her head, bringing to the forefront the weakness she thought she’d long ago left behind.

You aren’t worth shit.

The words were short, concise, and painfully blunt, but they were also the truth. And for that, she had no one to blame but herself.

They passed by Elizabeth’s little workshop on the way to their quarters. When she saw the door was open, Dara paused to poke her head inside. The assistant cook was deep at work dividing what appeared to be dozens of firecrackers into different piles.

“Hey Lizard, got any goodies for me?” Dara asked.

Elizabeth didn’t look up from the task in front of her. “On the back shelf.”

Dara clasped her hands in front of her gave Elizabeth a tiny, mocking bow that was returned with a raised middle finger.

“Gracious as always,” Dara said once she returned to Kuina’s side. “C’mon, we’re wasting daylight.”

“Is she…?”

“Our munitions expert?” Dara said. “Yes. Yes she is.” She hugged a little baggie close to her chest like it was a lover. “Her food might be garbage, but I’m pretty sure that’s because she’s testing some new long-acting poison without telling anyone.”

“I can still hear you!”

“Seems like an odd mix of jobs,” Kuina said.

Dara shrugged. “Cooking, catastrophic explosions...it’s all chemistry, really. Lizard here just happens to be better at one form more than the other. Isn’t that right, Lizard?”

Elizabeth had stormed to the doorway while she was speaking. She hardly came up to Dara’s shoulder, but she carried herself with the same energy of a lady’s lap dog that thought itself a wolf. “Go. Away. And stop blabbing to the stowaway. She’s not on our side.”

Dara’s grin showed entirely too many teeth. “Wanna bet?”

“I’m not a stowaway,” Kuina said at the same time. There was a pause as what Dara said sunk in, and both she and Elizabeth looked up at her with disbelief.

“You’re crazy,” Elizabeth said. “A hundred berries says she bails at the first opportunity.”

“I’ll put down five that she stays.”

“Your loss,” Elizabeth said, and she slammed the door in their face.

Dara looked for a moment like she wanted to shout something through the door but thought better of it. She put her little baggie into her pocket and said, “You better not run on me. I don’t actually have five hundred berries.”

“It was a stupid bet,” Kuina said. “I’m not joining the Revolution.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But I saw how pissed you were when the boss pulled that gun on you. You’re not going to be happy till you beat her in a fair fight, no matter how long it takes.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, and Kuina wondered if, just maybe, she was right.