#blade: *an actual miserable man waiting for his death and suffering*

[kodaiki]

idc if this is canon compliant but I know for a fact that blade loves his ruan mei variation sm

[moonlit-imagines]

Grand Novice

Loki Laufeyson x Grandmaster’s child!reader

warnings: death, weapons,

a/n: obviously y/n is a grown person in this?? i just didn’t know how to label them correctly ???? you feel???

prompt:

“I like him.” You told your father when the newest arrival of Sakaar had been dismissed.

“Well, good for him! He’s safe!” Grandmaster cheered to you, who didn’t take to many as quick as you had to Loki. “For now.”

“Oh, stop it, dad!” You giggled while Topaz stood behind you with the melting wand, offering it to you as if you were hiding your true feelings. “What about what I just said made you think we should melt him? Put that thing away!” You shook your head and gazed upon the crowd to see your new guest acclimating nicely to the subjects of Sakaar.

“Why don’t you go sit with him for a while, my dear?” Your father nudged you in his direction, but you didn’t need much more than that. With your robe dragging on the floor behind you, you parted the crowd and seated yourself right next to the Asgardian.

“Hello there, your highness.” Loki smirked when you leaned on his shoulder, but he genuinely didn’t mind it a bit. “How has your day been?”

“Oh, just wonderful.” You reached out for his hand shamelessly while other Sakaarians watched with hidden gazes. Now, Loki wasn’t one to get uncomfortable so easily, but he also wasn’t one to rush into something like this.

It’d be foolish to reject someone in a position of power, wouldn’t it? Loki was just given a spectacular opportunity, there was no passing this up.

“And why’s that?” He questioned, lifting your hand to his lips for a respectful kiss that only wooed you more.

“Well, I met a man who might just be perfect for me.” You weren’t one to hide your feelings, Loki appreciated that much. Although a liar could read another like the back of his hand, a truth-teller was impossible to figure out. At least, for him.

Maybe the challenge was another reason he grew attracted to you, because by the second week that he had been stuck on this miserable planet, he’d actually started to care for you. His romantic gestures were not forced, he had begun to open up, and he couldn’t spend a moment away from you.

The day that Thor arrived was a different story, though. Loki had mentioned his brother died recently, but now he was an eligible contender! Funny how the universe works.

“Are you worried for him, my darling.” You inquired as you played with his hair, he was noticeably zoned out, you’d like to help him any way you could.

“No, not at all.” Your boyfriend had brushed your concern off. “Thank you for asking, though. You’re too kind.” He placed a kiss on your forehead after cradling your face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” you practically melted around him, and you’ve seen people get melted before, “would you like to watch him contend, then? We’ll have the best view in the stadium!” You hugged him tightly and awaited his obvious agreement, he couldn’t help but giggle at your excitement. Had he truly gone soft?

Loki’s life had truly flipped once his brother had broken loose and rampaged above the streets of your beloved home. You were outraged until Loki offered to take his brother down, declaring it was for you.

Someone like yourself didn’t work very hard, you had better things to do. You were of a higher class, but you weren’t completely useless. You had much more energy than the Grandmaster, which is why you spent it on following the tracks of Thor, leading you to Loki suffering a constant shock on the floor.

“Oh, no!” You rushed over to assist him, grabbing the remote nearby and releasing him from the painful device. “Are you okay, my love? Please tell me you’re alright.” You hopped on top of him and pressed your ear against his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat continue on. His arms engulfed you in a real act of selfless love, he couldn’t believe his life had come to this. It was more unfortunate that you had no idea that this was the first he had ever felt this way.

“I’m alright, thanks to you.” The crown of your head collected a kiss and you rolled off of him.

“That scoundrel will pay for this!” You clenched your fists and ran to a ship equipped with weaponry, but Loki had done a bit of contemplating while he was confined to electrocution. Maybe he had gone mad, or maybe this was a turning point?

“Y/N, wait.” He sighed, catching your attention fairly quickly. You spun around and ran right back to him, holding his arms as he placed his hands on your hips. “Before me, when was the last time you were happy an Sakaar? And I mean truly happy?”

“I...” You blinked through thoughts as you tried to pinpoint an answer in your mind. “Why?”

“The Grandmaster, he thinks you’re happy, but you’re not. I can see it in your eyes, my dear.” He traced his tired fingers down your cheekbones. “Your father, he doesn’t give you all the freedom you desire, does he?”

“No, but—” You were cut off before you couldtry to defend him.

“We’re more alike than we appear, mine was the same way.” Loki explained to you. “I ask you this because...I need to go back to Asgard. I have a sister who is about to doom our people, but I don’t want to go without you.” You were caught off-guard by Loki’s change of plans, however, they were enticing. “You’ve never been off of this planet, I can show you the rest of the galaxy, give me a chance!” Now he held your hands so enthusiastically, yet so gentle. He knew he was getting through to you.

“Loki, my love,” you looked away and to the collection of your father’s ships, then took a pause as Loki’s expression grew concerned while studying yours, “We’ll take the biggest one, but we may need to take some of the prisoners for backup if we want to save your people.” You finally agreed and witnessed Loki breathe a sigh of relief and pull you into such an emotionally deep and serious kiss, you couldhave cried.

“I’ve never once in my life felt this way about anyone before you, y/n. You have succeeded in stealing my heart away from me and I couldn’t even see it coming.” His own way of making a declaration of love was all you could dream about, but you were running out of time here.

The plan was going better than you could have thought once the contenders burst through the doors, that was one thing off of your list.

“Great for you to join us, all! Would you like to come with us to help Thor?” You asked the group, who had their suspicions about you.

“Aren’t you the Grandmaster’s child? Is this a trick?” The one made out of rock had asked, earning agreement from the group.

“Y/N’s had a change of heart.” Loki kept one of your hands in his while he squeezed it tightly. You couldn’t tell if he was comforting you or himself, but at least it was guaranteed that you’d be sticking together.

“Oh. Alright then.” The Kronan understood without anymore questions, easy enough.

“Great! Everyone in that big ship now! We’re already late!” You led the army away, Loki supposed that leadership was in your blood. It came so easily to you, and it was a smidge attractive, too. What can he say? Power will always be his first love.

You’d never seen combat through your own two eyes, but you had begged Topaz to teach you how to use “big guns,” so you made do with what you had.

“Scrapper 142, would you be willing to trade places?” You called to her as she rode in the sky with your father’s ship.

“We aren’t on Sakaar anymore, your highness! I’m not a scrapper here.” She retorted, making your face heat even more than the exhaustion had done.

“My apologies! Please forgive me, I’ve better start getting used to life off of Sakaar.” You told her as she made room for you to use the exhilarating weapon. “Will you be flying?”

“Hopefully,” she said as she got control of the craft, “I’d like to keep this thing in the air for as long as I can.” It was a rocky start, but you trusted her for it. And she was beginning to trust you, as well. You weren’t a complete basket case like the Grandmaster, you’d be capable of changing. You could become a dear friend.

The ship crashed.

“Y/N!” Loki came rushing your way as the ship exploded in a multicolored blaze behind you. “Are you alright? Let’s get you up.” He helped you to your feet, but you were in no mood to slow down. Honestly, this was the most fun you’d had in ages.

“I’m more alive than ever!” You looked over his shoulder to take in the commotion. “Do you have any other weapons I could use?”

“Would...a dagger work?” It was a simple gesture, but you’d appreciate it to the end of your days after you plucked the blade from his hand. You’d never fought with a dagger, but there was no harm in trying. Yes, there was. But fortunately, fortune was on your side. The fun never lasts though, that was a fact. “Might I suggest you help evacuate instead, darling?”

“I suppose that’s an option!” You figured he’d realized just how dangerous hand-to-hand combat would be for someone without experience, but you were still living in some sort of fantasy land, you needed to be grounded.

So you rooted for them from the sidelines, helping people onto your ship. It was extremely hard to concentrate at times, especially when you couldn’t find Loki out there. A little warning that he was running off, that would’ve been nice.

And then there was an explosion that really rattled your bones, you’d never been in so much danger before. That’s when Loki darted straight towards you and each of you hopped into the ship.

“Are you hurt?” He moved his hands up and down your body to check for any injuries, but you insisted on doing the same.

“No, no, I’m fine. Are you?” While both of you were clutching onto each other, you shared another passionate kiss, glad that you both were still in good health together. Now the two of you merely spectated to destruction of the planet he had called home. “I’m sorry about Asgard.”

“No, I am.” He lowered his head. “I imagined a life with you here, but those plans will have to change.”

“That’s alright,” your tired voice softened once you laid your head on his shoulder, “we’ll make it work.”

—————

Loki didn’t live long enough to build a life with you, Thanos made sure of that. The entire reason you left your homeworld was to be with him, now you were stranded in space without a plan for your future. Who knew what this galaxy held? You’d been so naïve to run into the unknown, but there was only one thing left to do now, and that was get revenge.

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedficrecs // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck // @randomawesomeperson102 // @spideyandtheboys //

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Genji Heavy Industries (End) Turning Point

After all this way, we finally see the MC reach the turning point in her life.

If you’ve read this far, I thank you very much. I hope this has made you love the world of Dragon Raja

You could no longer see Caesar or Chu Zihang, but at this point, you weren’t looking. Your eyes were locked on Chisei Gen. Caesar’s final orders rang in your head like a command from Heaven. Your hands were caked in dried black blood. You were trembling with pain and fatigue, but that last brief surge of Blood Rage had revived your senses enough to stare at him, much like a cat would, eyes dilated and your body flexed. If he moved a muscle, you would draw your weapon.

Chisei watched the flames with resigned calmness however. He was tied firmly and his life was in Caesar and Chu Zihang’s hands just as much as yours was. “MC.” He said. “Where did you learn how to fight like that?”

He’s looking at you now, with the fire reflected in his eyes. His stare was confident. Even though he was asking a question, there was no question in those eyes. No curiosity. It was as if he were asking a question he already knew the answer to.

But how could he know the answer? The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You’d learned how to shoot and hand-to-hand combat from your training in Black Swan Bay. Your training in Black Swan Bay was mostly centered however on your Yanling, focusing your spiritual energy into the ground, learning the limits of your power, how much you could manipulate the earth without suffering physical effects… This was all ingrained into you in a way that bordered on lab experiments with each result meticulously recorded and logged. It was just constant testing and while you were being tested, you learned your power and how to control it.

But Chisei hadn’t seen you use any of that. What he had seen from his vantage point in the mural hall rafters was you, walking out after Caesar and Chu Zihang armed with nothing but the laser sight of a Soviet era rifle and a pistol which you used to bait a member of the Deadpool into attacking their own kind. He observed how closely you could read the actions of the deadpool and how you picked her targets to attack. He heard your giddy laughter echoing on the mural hall walls.

After that, he would have seen clearly how you fearlessly approached that deadpool after she was exhausted, shot her in the head and then used her severed claw as a knife. How you used the non-lethal bullets from your pistol like a fist. How you were using that claw as your only weapon to render these A-ranked super monsters as weak as worms. It was no wonder that he looked at you when he was using Majesty to subdue the deadly and left a few living ones in his trail of mass destruction for you to kill. He had wanted to observe you close up.

When you don’t answer immediately he turns back to observe the fire. “Among the Hydra we have a name for that fighting technique you’re using. It’s called “God’s Eyes”. The heart of God’s Eyes is to subdue the enemy by your understanding of their movements and by your complete control of the battlefield. According to those that describe it, it takes at least a decade to approach mastery of elements of this technique. But you have mastered all of it and you’re so young. I’ve never seen anyone use God’s Eyes like you. You had to have learned from a master… but there are no masters of this technique. Only a few books that reference it or reference other works that describe it. It’s a technique that’s lost to history.”

“There’s only one man I know who can use God’s Eye on your level. And that’s Hilbert Ron Anjou. But you two just met a few weeks ago. Right?”

His eyes watch your face, but you nod, completely innocent, and his eyes narrowed to slits. You just stare back at him. He finally sighs. Whatever theory he may have had about where you learned your technique collapsed.

“Anjou can clear a room with just his pocket knife. Just like you. I don’t know anyone else who can do that.”

You do, of course, but disclosing that involves your deepest secrets and given the huge deadpool tank you found at the bottom of Genji Heavy Industry, you can be excused for not exactly trusting this man with secrets about your past. “Perhaps after this is over, we can talk more. Over sake?” You ask, taking a page from Caesar’s book.

“I would like that.” He sighed again. “I would also like to know how someone like you ended up with these people from Cassell?”

“I ask myself that every day.” Your lips quirk upward.

This was the first time you actually had a moment to sit and talk with Chisei Gen one on one and it actually wasn’t that hard. It took your mind off your pain enough for you to crack a little joke. Chisei lowers his eyes and, much to your delight, he chuckles and your smile grows.

“For my last moments, if these are my last moments… I suppose I could have worse company then these weirdos. My only regret is that Lu Mingfei isn’t here. But knowing him…” You roll your eyes to the ceiling, imagining him flapping his arms and squawking about how much danger you were in. “...nah, I'll take that back. What I really regret is that if we don't make it out of here, he’ll have lost all his friends. I know how that feels. I don’t want him to feel that.” 

You rest your head against the wall of the elevator and gaze out into the flames. “Looking back, my life is very odd. Even if you ask me a thousand questions about myself, I wonder if I would even be able to answer a single one. Simple things like… where were you born… Who are your parents? Where did you go to school…?” Your voice trails off. After a moment's thought, you shrug.

Chisei looks at you, silent.

A burst of gunfire and a sudden sharp explosion made you squeak and flinch! This was it, you think, this was the end. Was it really going to end this way? Caesar’s last order was to make sure that Chisei Gen did not touch the elevator door, but he also told you to stop seeking death! You only had your miserable little peashooter pistols, your miserable little claw and your miserable little knife and your miserable laser pointer.

You were suddenly struck with a sudden and intense desperation like nothing you’d ever felt.

You force yourself up to your feet while Chisei Gen sits there astounded.  “What are you doing?” Chisei shouts. 

Your voice is choked off as you stagger toward the elevator door, groaning with intense pain, but this fierce determination drives you forward. Chisei can now see the full view of your ruined back, your skin-tight combat suit is torn to ribbons where the Deadpool’s claws sank deep into muscle tissue.

Caesar and Chu Zihang were visible again! Caesar held two Sten submachine guns with both hands and Chu Zihang had one. The two back to back were using the bullet screen to suppress the group of deadpool while moving slowly in the direction of the elevator shaft. The group of deadpool that had been overturned by the shockwave of the explosion regrouped, their hideous golden eyes surrounding Caesar and Chu Zihang, the bullets repeatedly knocking them to the ground as they repeatedly straightened up and charged forward. The only thing that protects them is the bullet screen in front of them, and once the screen disappears the group of deadpool will pounce and bite.

You stand in the door, a silhouette in the light of the flame, shoving a magazine into your pistol. Your black hair is being pulled by the intense flaming winds like you were standing right in the breath of a massive creature. You finally relent. You finally gave in. You finally believe the last words of your friend. You finally believe the words of Caesar and the eyes of Chu Zihang.

You have to live!

The pale red columns collapsed one by one. The hot wind and black smoke rampaged through the hall, the frescoes curled in the fire, and the painted dragons and snakes finally flew away in the black ash.

The two rival men were fighting back to back, and the group of deadpool were getting closer and closer, so close that Caesar once passed the barrel of his gun into the deadpool’s open mouth before shooting it out. Chu Zihang stuck his sword and Onimaru in front of him, so if a deadpool got too close he would draw his blade and force it back, and then pick up his gun and fire.  But sooner or later the bullets will run out, just like a man holding a torch to scare the wolves would eventually see that torch go out. 

So you wait, watching them, hand on your pistol, observing the battlefield with God’s Eyes! You knew how many pieces of ammunition you had and, from your observation of Caesar’s reloading, you could make an estimate of how much he had left. When you determined that they were close to being out of ammo, you raised your pistols and opened fire!

The staccato rhythm of your pistols is like the rhythmic hits of a boxer’s gloves. The bullets strike the sensitive areas of the beasts, their eyes, their open wounds, their burns. They hiss and flinch as though being stung by a sudden swarm of bees. You drop the empty magazine and reload and shoot again and again and again, cursing them with the deepest and blackest of words. 

Each bullet was precious, like a drop of life’s blood. You couldn’t waste a single one. You watched the behavior of these monsters. If they reached for your friends, your bullets stung them like the whip of a ringmaster before vicious tigers. If there was even a possibility that they might think twice about doing it again, your quick and painful punishment gave them pause. If they hesitated, you rewarded them by not shooting them. But if they looked ready to pounce you shot them where it hurt.

Your support is just enough to turn the tide. The resistance of the deadpool falters and this time it doesn’t recover. If they rise up they’re either hit by the two men and if they’re not hit by the two men, they’re hit by the pistol fire.

A strange noise like the pop and snap of firewood shifts your focus and your pistol swivels and points at Chisei. “Stay Down!” You roar.

Chisei’s face is a mask of pain. His body was writhing strangely, his joints were all dislocated, and the bones moved independently of each other. It was like his arms had turned into spaghetti!

“I said stay down!” You lower your pistol to his ankle and pull the trigger. 

Click. Your eyes widen.

Chisei smirks. “You’re out of bullets. It’s okay…” He grunts. “I’m not going to run. If they want blood…” He gasped. “I’ll give them blood.” Before you could comprehend what was happening, he suddenly freed himself from his restraints by wiggling out of his shirt. His bare chest looks like an ugly bag of broken bones! He cut himself across the wrist with Dojigiri, staining the white fabric of his shirt red. He stood up and walked to the elevator entrance and threw the shirt into the fire.

With that last act, Chisei Gen completely collapsed. You tried to catch him but the action pulled at your wounds and you both went down to the floor. Both you and he had given your all.  You let him fall to the floor and just tried to annoy them with your laser pointer while you grit your teeth, but the Deadpool had a far more tantalizing target in mind already. You realize what’s happening, but you can’t pull the unconscious Chisei back into the elevator. You’re so choked with smoke and exhaustion you can’t even call for help.

"What's going on?" Caesar couldn't believe his eyes, the smoking muzzle points to the ground. The guns in his right and left hands stopped firing, but still no monsters pounced on him. 

They were about to run out of bullets when the swarm of deadpool suddenly withdrew from them and scrambled to slither up to a corner of the hall. A minute ago they were still a seasoned suckling pig roasting in the fire, and now they suddenly turned into a disgusting slop, and the whole group just left.

"Hurry! Run!" Chu Zihang yelled. 

Caesar suddenly woke up. Tight now they do not have time to think about the rationality of this miracle. The fire burning C4 explosives may explode at any time. It was still too early to celebrate. They simultaneously took off running. They shed off every entangling weight, taking off their heavy windbreakers, which still had scattered firearms and bullets in them. There was a loud bang and a searing wind behind them. It was some piece of C4 explosive behind the shaded wall that had exploded. It was so powerful that it completely took the wall down.

The first thing he saw when he cleared the smoke was you struggling with Chisei in the elevator door. His fury spurred him faster. He was coming at you like a raging bull. You couldn’t even begin to explain! Caesar didn't hesitate to pull the trigger, and blood exploded from Chisei’s calf. 

“Caesar!” Your voice is a useless squeak. Caesar had grabbed Chisei and unceremoniously tossed him like luggage back into the car.

Chu Zihang picked you up and hit the door close button on his way in.

The pain woke up Chisei  and he was just about to struggle to sit up when Caesar rushed into the elevator and threw a straight punch at his face.

“Stop…” Your voice is just a hiss, and you realized that you’ve completely lost your voice. Perhaps the heat, the dry air, and your screaming in pain had ruined your vocal cords.

The chain of explosions had already begun. Blinding sun-like lights are lighting up the corners of the hall as waves of hot air swept through at speeds that exceeded those of a hurricane, setting other blocks of explosives ablaze. The old freight elevator squeaked and closed with difficulty, and with a few centimeters left in the doorway, a hot air stream a few centimeters wide burrowed into the elevator, a bright red that ignited the remaining files in the car. But the elevator door finally closed. 

It slowly sank into the elevator shaft, and a few seconds later there was a heavenly explosion from above, and a bright wave of air rushed into the elevator shaft, throwing the burning corpses of the deadpool into the void. The snake shadows burned in the fire, their fat dissolved, until gradually  the bronze skeletons were revealed. These tyrannical creatures finally were cut off from life, and as they died they gathered around a shirt and shredded it.. 

As the freight elevator rumbled down, Caesar stomped hard on the burning documents, and then lay down exhausted on the file box, and kicked at Chisei’s face.

“Stop it!” You hiss. But Chu Zihang held you tight and you were far worse off than he was. Turned out that weird period style armor had actually protected him quite a bit. You dug your nails into him but he didn’t even flinch.

Chisei said nothing, powerlessly wrapping a cloth band around the wrist wound. He had cut an artery, and soaked at least a fifth of the blood in his body into the shirt. He made his shirt irresistible to the monsters. The result was that he couldn't even stand up. Caesar wasted no time, tying him up even tighter.

You’re breathing a bit easier now. Instinctively, you take deeper breaths. As your adrenaline lowers, fatigue crashes again like a weighted blanket. Breathing now became agony, but with no voice, no one could hear you moaning. There’s just the strange whistling noise, like the soft whine of a little dog.

"What do we do with this guy?" Caesar pointed at Chisei with the Desert Eagle.

You don’t even lift your head.  

"It's naturally best if we can take him prisoner. But it's hard to leave Genji Heavy Industries by ourselves in this situation, and it's even harder to take him away." Chu Zihang said. He tilts his head down to look at you. “She doesn’t seem to want any harm to come to him.”

"How about using him as a hostage threat? There is no way the Yakuza would give up the precious Emperor, right?" 

"It's hard to make sure we're not followed, Tokyo is the Hydra Yakuza's home turf, and we won’t be able to escape it no matter how much we run.”

"It seems the best way is to shoot this guy. Sooner or later the Academy and the Hydra family will have to go to war, such a precious weapon can not be left in the hands of the other side. Anyway, his body is flowing with dragon blood, I have to kill him as a dragon slayer!" Caesar pulled the bolt and loaded the gun. 

No way! Caesar hadn’t killed anyone this whole time! And now that you’ve come this far and you had fought beside Chisei and he’d saved all your lives, he was going to kill him?

You jerk against Chu Zihang and try to sink your teeth into him. His strong arm tightens. He whispers so softly you can barely hear it. “It’s a bluff.”

In a moment of silence, you hear something else sigh.

There were only four people in the elevator, and you heard a fifth breath! 

The side wall of the elevator car suddenly caves in! Before Caesar had time to react, the monstrous bony claws penetrated the sidewall and plunged into Chisei’s ribs from behind! Blood rained down like a fountain on the sneak attacker's face as it let out an ear-piercing scream of joy! 

Even Caesar was stunned when he saw the Deadpool, even though they had just stepped out of the hordes of Deadpool that were trying to kill him. This Deadpool was so amazing. It was more than twice the size of the others! The longest of them  was over five meters, the shortest was only about three meters, and their upper bodies were about the same size as a human, gradually getting thinner and longer below the waist, before finally taking on the shape of a snake. But this monstrosity is more than eight meters long. Its abdomen is bloated, like a pregnant queen ant. It dragged this overly deformed lower body upward but fell down, so it had just arrived at the mural hall. It became the only survivor. It was attracted by the smell of Chisei's blood and recklessly tore through the elevator car.. 

This deadpool had the face of a middle-aged woman, and her face was not as pale as the other deadpool.  Instead, it was rosy and lustrous, like a woman who had become rounded in pregnancy. Caesar took a glance at its abdomen and suddenly understood. Its snow-white, scaleless abdomen had snake tail-like traces shining through. This was really a pregnant Deadpool  and a pregnant deadpool could only give birth to those more fearsome than itself, because the fetal dragon blood would be purer. The fetuses also seem to have felt the freshness of the blood of Chisei and are stirring in the mother's body. 

What had been suspected all along was confirmed, the Deadpool was capable of producing offspring, and this bloated, deformed mother's womb was breeding devils! 

The Deadpool clung to Chisei, licking the blood excitedly. Chisei clung on to the handrail to keep from being dragged into the elevator shaft. Deadpool's bloated body weighing hundreds of kilograms hangs below the elevator by that single grip.

Chu Zihang presses his hand firmly on your mouth. You wanted to scream in rage, pure frustration and despair. But the monster hadn’t noticed you at all yet. You were too weak to fight this thing. You all were. You said ‘no more sacrifices’ but now you really had no more to give but yourselves, and this monster wanted Chisei. You could get away scot free if you left him behind. 

Caesar tried to aim several times in the process of raising his gun, but he had no chance of hitting Deadpool, who was hiding behind Chisei. If he fired, he would first have to injure him, and it was unknown whether the force of the bullet could do that and injure the deadpool. He just fired a shot at Chisei but now he needs to shoot him again. But Chisei is extremely pale from blood loss. He originally had a feminine beauty, and now he looks like a dying girl. His soul is leaving his pale body. If he suffered another gunshot wound, Chisei could certainly die. 

This world was so black, so dark, that the minute you started to believe that perhaps Caesar could be right and you could live and you could live with all your friends, that scythe of death came to collect its taxes on your happiness. You hated this world, you hated this life!

Deadpool licked the back of Chisei’s neck with her long tongue. Her sharp teeth are seeking the veins in his neck as she begins to give birth to her babies.  The green and white snake-like fetuses fell one by one. 

At this time there was a "thump" sound above the elevator, and the speed of the elevator's descent suddenly increased. The elevator filled with boxes of documents was close to the upper limit of the load. The weight of the giant deadpool plus the four of you exceeded the limits of the elevator, not to mention that it was running in the fragile track after the earthquake. It was slamming into the depths of the elevator shaft at an accelerating rate, at which point the Deadpool would of course be smashed to death, and the four of you would invariably be buried with her. 

"Shoot!" Chisei yelled with his last strength. 

You watched Caesar look into the eyes of Chisei in surprise. 

"Shoot me! Hit me in the neck! Its head is right back there!" Chisei spurted out a mouthful of blood. 

Caesar gritted his teeth fiercely. He was ready to shoot. 

But his fingers were trembling, it was as if the blackness of the world had surrounded him and was pressing in on him, closing in and laughing, mocking him. You stood in that darkness and you could offer no answer. After all, what mercy had the world ever offered you?

A mere few days ago, you wouldn’t hesitate to reasonably make the judgment that sacrificing one person can save everyone, and it's worth doing. But now you stared at Caesar and shook your head. You didn’t want to live in a world without his justice.

You take your bronze claw dagger and stab it into Chu Zihang’s side! Caesar turns at his gasp of pain. You rise up like a lioness to seize Caesar’s wrist and push it upward, pointing the Desert Eagle in the air. You’re face to face with him and bare your teeth.

"’Never leave a friend’ is your justice.” You force the words through your dead vocal cords. Your eyes stare into his eyes and they’re cold and black as the ice sea. “I live for your justice and I will die for your justice!" 

Caesar stares for a moment and, for that moment, the cheeks on either side of his face grow gradually pink.

Chisei suddenly smiled. He rarely smiles. His smile is surprisingly beautiful. 

"Gattuso-kun, in fact, I have thought about being ...... friend of justice." Chisei let go of the handrail and was instantly sucked into the void outside the elevator car.

Caesar barely prevented you from plunging out there with him in your effort to stop him. He threw you back against the door of the elevator. Your vision exploded into sparks and for a moment you couldn’t move. 

“Chu Zihang!”

The elevator suddenly stopped, pressing you to the floor. You blink your eyes open. Caesar and Chu Zihang are gathered by the hole in the elevator wall, shoulder to shoulder. They weren't moving, in fact, they were grunting with great effort. They were backing up from the gap and in their hands was the rope. The rope that he’d tied Chisei up in was being pulled up back into the elevator and attached to that rope was Chisei!

You gasp and crawl forward. He was unconscious, pale like death. His sword was stuck through him, front to back, but he was alive. He was still alive. Caesar looks down at you, but oddly doesn’t meet your eyes. He looks shy, almost embarrassed?

“We need to find a way out of here.” Chu Zihang, ever practical, hands you the claw dagger back. You stare at it a moment and then tuck it in your belt to let Caesar carry you out.

Together, you climb out of the elevator and into the darkness of the shaft, until you take a rest on the beam. Caesar is puffing on a cigar. You’re sitting in Caesar’s lap like a child. Exhausted, you’re turning the bronze colored claw dagger over and over in your hands, watching the play of light on it.

You all sit in silence like this for an hour.

Your head was burning and you felt numb and yet, deep down, the arctic ice that had held onto your soul since waking up at Cassell was starting to fracture and the summer sun was beginning to rise. You rest your head against Caesar’s chest and look up into his eyes.

He lets out a puff of smoke. “You’re not going to fall for me, are you?”

Your eyes narrow and then you huff. “No. I was just thinking…You weren’t going to let me die from the moment we met, right? You stinker.”

Caesar tapped the ash over the edge of the beam. “So you finally get it.”

“Uh huh. I’ll always miss my friends.” Your lip trembles a bit but you once again control it. “But… I think… with you… That’s okay.”

Caesar bit his cigar and grinned. “Glad to hear it.” 

You lower your eyes to Chu Zihang who had been tending to his own injuries and was now working on Chisei’s many wounds, while he rested on the beam. “Sorry, I stabbed you.”

“It was impressive.”

You laugh, unsure of how to respond to that.

The building was chock full of Hydra operatives now. You couldn’t leave the elevator shaft yet. They were probably all looking for Chisei so you had to wait for him to wake up.

Chisei started to stir under Chu Zihang’s medical care. Caesar carefully settled you against the wall of the shaft and catwalked over to stare down into Chisei’s eyes. He pulled the last cigarette from his pocket, stuck it in Chisei’s mouth and lit it, the fire illuminating the man’s pupils. Chisei struggled for a moment but he was still in pain and tightly bound.

"The emperor hybrid is really different, huh. A serious wound like harakiri only took an hour to heal. I want to have such a good body.." Caesar moved the lighter closer to his face and illuminated it to Chisei, showing his healing injury. In the next moment, he’d kicked Chisei off the beam. The rope pulled taut where the end was tied and Chisei Gen hung from it.

"Won't you consider untying me?" Gen Chisei smiled bitterly, "It's a little inconvenient to smoke and hang from a rope." 

"Not quite.  With someone of your low integrity, I still can't believe you. The minute I untie you, you’ll assault us again.." Caesar gripped his cigar, "Let’s just have a good conversation." 

"Is the family style of the famous hybrid Gattuso family that shameless?" Chisei exhaled a puff of smoke. 

"You call this shameless?" Caesar shrugged, "If you think this is shameless, you haven't met my studly old man." After a few seconds of silence Caesar mumbled.  "Sorry." 

"There's nothing to apologize for. At the time I really wanted to escape and leave all you behind. I'm not a friend of justice. I've done a lot of bad things, I've killed people." 

"Ghosts?" Chu Zihang asked. 

"We call them Ghosts, but they are actually the same hybrid species as us, only more likely to become deadly." Chisei whispered, "To some extent all of us are ghosts." 

"The mural is ruined, but we took pictures. Although you do not want us to, we have to take these pictures. The Academy and the Hydra are now in a hostile relationship, and now that the Deadpool group is also finished, your cooperation with us is over, and we all revert to hostile relations." Caesar took a drag on his cigar.

You listen to the conversation and your heart is surprisingly calm when you hear that you won’t be seeing Chisei any time soon. Chisei looks up at you. “I guess we’ll have to make plans for sake later?”

Caesar gives you a look of sharp disbelief.

You stick your tongue out at him. “I meant it as a lady.” But you offer no further explanation. It wasn’t his business.

"Then you have to leave quickly, with my recovery speed, this rope won’t hold me for long.." Chisei smiled again. 

"You can’t fool me. This rope can tether an elephant. I also tied it with a sailor knot, so the more you struggle, the tighter it will get.  Your body is not as strong as we thought. You super hybrids are slightly stronger than us, but your bones and muscles can not be compared with a real dragon. You might be worse than those deadpool but the minute you release your Yanling you’re defenseless. In short, you're strong, but not necessarily without flaws." Caesar sneered. 

"Well, well you guys see through me. What do you want to do with me?" 

"It was too difficult to take you away, and, in the end, I decided to leave you here. Your men are looking all over the building for you, but they didn't expect you to be hanging in the middle of the elevator shaft just yet. Seriously, I think that Assistant Sakura likes you a lot, don't you?" Caesar waved his cigar. 

"I'm not getting a girlfriend until I leave Japan, and isn't it a bit much to ask a woman like her to give up her life to go to France with me to sell sunscreen?" 

"Isn’t that exactly like leaving behind your status as the head of the big family to go to France?" 

"I am a person who has done a lot of evil. My hands are stained with the blood of many ghosts, fleeing to France to settle down would be good, I am not going to France, I’m trying to escape." Chisei said leisurely. 

"You said you also want to be a friend of justice?" Caesar raised an eyebrow. 

"Everyone wants to be a friend of justice when they are children." Chisei said faintly. 

"Are you mocking me for still being stuck in a child's state?" Caesar gave Chisei a poke and sent him spinning. 

You giggle. It hurt but that struck you as funny.

“What are you laughing at?” Caesar smiles at you.

You reply "Friends of Justice are the words from Ultraman, a cartoon for kids." 

"Ultraman?" 

"Superman who came to Earth from the universe to help Earthlings fight alien monsters. The heir of the Gattuso family should not have seen that kind of thing. We all watched it when we were kids. In elementary school, kids could be seen discussing which Ultraman was more powerful and saving their lunch money to buy plastic models of Ultraman. Did you do this MC?”

“No,” you chuckle. “I was a Sailor Moon fan. And James Bond fan.”

“Ah…” Chisei sighs. “Ultraman said his fans are friends of justice. We are friends of Ultraman, so we are also friends of justice. The more powerful monsters will be defeated by the friends of justice. Every episode they say that, so as children, we are convinced." Chisei mumbled slyly, "One year school performance, I went on stage to sing the theme song of Ultraman, I still remember the tune ......" 

"Beep beep beep, 

lots of monsters. 

Look behind you, 

beasts through the street there, 

just to your left and right. 

Can't get enough, can't get enough. 

Fly one foot and hit three low, 

don't presume to fly away. 

Who comes from  the universe to fight for freedom? 

Who will be faithful to defend the world? 

It is you, the great friend of justice!" 

You clap your hands. “You have a good voice, Chisei.”

This scene is really weird. The big head of the Japanese yakuza and the only emperor hybrid hanging in mid-air singing the theme song of "Ultraman". The heir of the Gattuso family, Caesar Gattuso and A+ blood Chu Zihang, and you, the S-ranked young woman, are his audience. Everyone should have laughed, but no one did. All of you had childhoods that were long gone, and you paid respects to them the same as you would a long dead ancestor.

The song ended and Caesar clapped his hands. 

"But I didn't become a friend of justice, I became the bad guy." Chisei said softly, "My friends are bad people. Yasha turned out to be a street fighter. Crow is a loan shark organization's strong man. Sakura is a killer. And I have done a lot more bad things than you can imagine. You might think the Japanese executive bureau is here to maintain order. But more often, it all just ends in bloodshed.. The mob is like this. In this business only violence speaks. The ones who are the most violent are the loudest. We live by doing evil. We belong to a family. We must be loyal to it. For the benefit of the family, we may strike at the innocent. For the benefit of the family we can sacrifice our companions or ourselves. Everyone can be sacrificed so that more people can live a good life. This world is so cruel. I am not Hikari Ultraman.I can not save everyone. If doing evil can make my people live a better life, then I am willing to become a bad guy." 

"Bad people can become good, but bad things will never become right." Caesar said. 

Chisei made the effort to give Caesar a look, "At your age you can still say such things, Gattuso-kun. I envy you." 

"Is that another Japanese style taunt?" 

"No, people who strongly believe in justice are happy people." Chisei said softly. 

Caesar was silent for a long time and raised his eyebrows: "What a bitter thing to say. But there's no time for your bitterness, I hear footsteps approaching, it's your people looking for you, right?" 

"Goodbye then, have a good trip." Chisei said. 

"The next time we meet, we'll be enemies again. Can't we say some warm and fuzzy goodbyes?" 

"Don't get involved in this. Leave Japan if you can, this is not something you can get involved in." 

"That kind of bullshit might as well be Saying Sayonara.”

"Sayonara." Chisei said softly. 

"Sayonara." Caesar said, "People who could have been friends end up like this. The world isn't cruel. It’s Bullshit.”

You stare down at Chisei. You want to say something, but you feel like you and Chisei were strangely similar. You were both violent people and trained to be so from an early age. You both felt similarly when Caesar spouted on about justice and being right and good in a world that was cruel. 

“Chisei… please don’t give up…” You whisper, but your voice is still hoarse.

“Come on, girl, he’s not worth your time.” Caesar once again lifts you up on his shoulders like a child and starts to climb. But you look over his shoulder. You and Chisei lock eyes as he hangs there in the void and you keep looking at each other until you’re both out of sight.

[nothing-but-dreams]

Raised From Darkness, We Deserve the Light

SPNDBCC (By @foundfamily4eva): Part 6- Destiel / Part 8- Love Confession Dean/Cas, 2.9k, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Angst to Fluff Summary: On the heels of losing Cas, and not being able to speak his truth, Dean goes on a mission to rescue Cas from the Empty. Things quickly go awry, and Dean has to fight to save the man he loves. AO3: Link

It was pitch black, the roar of thunder filled the nothingness like a cosmic being screaming a warning, and Dean felt like he was falling through time itself. He should’ve expected such, seeing as the Empty was, in fact, a cosmic being, and it was pissed that it couldn’t be left alone.

Dean took a shot at a spell he found in one of the old Men of Letters books. They said they used the spell to resurrect a demon who they needed information from. It wasn’t super specific, but Dean figured if it could get a demon out of the Empty, it could also work for an angel.

As he lit the ring of holy oil, a rift appeared, similar to the one that let them travel to purgatory and apocalypse world, but this one was black. Before he could figure out the next step, he was sucked into the void, and found himself falling endlessly through the Empty.

He hit something with a thud. He’d call it the ground, but it wasn’t. Everything around him was darkness. It fell silent. There was no more wind, no thunder, no distant calamity. Dean wished he had a map. Or a flashlight. Or a more thought out plan, because he really only thought this through up to the point where he got here. All he cared about was finding Cas, and bringing him home. He figured he’d make the rest up along the way.

Dean stood up, unable to see or hear anything other than his own breathing.

“Cas!” he shouted, hoping maybe, somehow Cas would be able to hear him. There was nothing. So he shouted his name again, and again, and again, calling out into the void, hoping something would shout back. He was about to give up when he heard a whoosh.

“Dean?”

Dean turned around, and sure enough, in front of him stood Castiel. It was overwhelming, the sudden rush of emotions that shot through his body. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to say, but he didn’t know how. He was just as shocked standing before Cas now as he was when the Empty took him.

“Cas? Is it … is it really you?” Dean was skeptical, it seemed too easy to call out his name and that was enough to summon him.

“Yes. Are you really you?”

Dean tilted his head, waiting for an explanation.

“The Empty has been playing tricks on me ever since I got here. It’ll manifest as you and then make me think you were here to save me. Much like you are now.”

“No, it’s really good ol’, 50% scar tissue and cholesterol, me.”

“That’s good to hear. Well, not objectively, because the number one killer of humans is heart disease, and if you’re 50% cholesterol, that’s not-”

“Look,” Dean interrupted, realizing there was a very real possibility of Cas going off on a 30 minute tangent, “I don’t know how much time we have, so let’s try to figure out a plan to bust you out of here.”

“I don’t really know how to get out of here. Do you?” Cas asked, eyebrows raised.

Dean was flying by the seat of his pants. He realized, yeah, he really should’ve done a little more research on how to escape the Empty, but when an angel confesses their love to you, it can make you do crazy things.

“Not exactly. I kinda figured we’d go out the way I came in. Whatever, we’ll figure it out, but right now, we have to go.”

Dean went to grab Cas’s wrist, and in an instant, Cas’s body melted into a pile of black goo, and reemerged in the image of Meg, sitting on her throne.

“Dean, long time no see.”

“Meg?”

“No, this is just the face I’ve taken a liking to. But I figured you’d connect better with a certain lovesick angel. Gotta say, I’m pretty pissed you had to go and ruin my fun, because I could’ve toyed with you all day.”

“Where’s Cas?”

“All business, no play. Got it.” The Empty snapped its fingers and Cas appeared next to the throne. He was unharmed, but his eyes went wide and his jaw fell slack as soon as he saw Dean.

“Cas!” Dean tried to run to the angel, but he was frozen in place. It didn’t seem like Cas could move either.

“Ah, ah, ah, not so fast there lover boy. I know you want E.T. here to return home, but since I have him, I want to make a deal.”

Dean’s jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. Evil sons of bitches always wanted to make deals, and every time Dean said yes, he’d end up screwed over in the long run. But what the hell? This was for Cas.

“What do you want?”

“I’ll give you your precious angel, if you hold up the bargain that Death promised me.”

“And what was that?”

“It’s loud.” The Empty waved its hand and a cacophony of tortured screams echoed through the void. “They were all sleeping. And when they sleep, I sleep. But you, and the angel, and God kept coming in, and dragging people out. Now all they do is scream and I’m sick of it.”

“Sorry about your beauty sleep, but I don’t really see how that’s my problem.”

“Oh, you don’t?” With another snap of the Empty’s fingers, Cas fell to his knees, hunched over in pain, and started vomiting up blood. “Because I can do this for the rest of eternity, Dean.”

Unable to watch Cas suffer any longer, Dean gave in.

“Fine, I’m in. What do you need me to do?”

The Empty snapped its fingers, and Cas went back to normal.

It explained to Dean that in order for there to be peace in the Empty, there needed to be no more unwelcome guests, and no more resurrections. The Empty would be the only one with the power to let things in or let things out. In order to do that, he would need to close the rift to the Empty, forever.

It was a simple spell, in that it was only a few ingredients, but Dean didn’t want to put his trust in another bad guy. Cosmic entities were high up on his don’t-mess-with list.

In order to close the rift, Dean would have to take the Empty’s plasma, mix it with holy oil and demon blood, use the mixture to draw a devil’s trap around the rift while it was still open, then set the sigil on fire. It seemed doable, but there was a catch. There was always a catch. The Empty wouldn’t return Cas back to Earth until the spell was complete.

If he agreed, there was a risk that the Empty would keep Cas trapped in there forever. That just wasn’t a risk Dean was willing to take. Luckily, he had a plan B.

“No deal,” Dean said, pulling an angel blade from his pocket.

“Is that your plan? Attack me with an angel blade? That’s cute, Dean. But I’m the Empty. I rule over fallen angels, remember, that’s not going to work on me.”

“That might be so,” Dean said, throwing the angel blade at the Empty, watching as it landed in its chest, “but an angel blade bonded with pieces of Death’s Scythe? That’s Kryptonite.”

When Dean found the spell that would let him into the Empty, the Men of Letters also included a section on how to slow the Empty down. If you were able to cut the Empty with the blade of Death’s Scythe, it would send the Empty back to the depths of its abyss where it would have to reform. When Billie attacked him and Cas, she broke off a couple small pieces of her blade, which Dean later found in the hallway. He figured if he could weld the two metals together, it would work.

As the Empty melted and vanished into the void, Dean stared, shocked. His plan actually worked. It wasn’t a sure thing, about a 50/50 chance, and considering the other option was him and Cas being murdered, he was glad to see his gamble paid off.

“Alright, let’s go.” Dean grabbed his blade, and ran with Cas in a direction he could only hope was correct. They didn’t get very far before the ground began to quake beneath them. “What the hell is that?”

“What the hell is right,” a voice grumbled as it materialized into a human form. It was followed by another, and another, appearing from nowhere.

“Demons,” Cas said, turning in circles, realizing he and Dean were quickly becoming surrounded. “Run.”

Both men sprinted into the darkness, but were quickly tackled by a group of demons. Dean and Cas fought, punching and wrestling the demons. It seemed like every time they escaped and were able to cover some ground, more demons found them.

They ran and fought their way through the Empty, until they found it. They could see the glow of the rift in the distance, they were so close, but demons kept finding them, and they were intent on keeping them trapped in the Empty forever.

Cas fought the best he could, but with his powers all but gone, he didn’t have much to draw from. The odds were against him. Luckily, Dean was able to kill the demons, with the help of his blade, but not before they pummeled Cas.

Dean kneeled down next to Cas, terrified by the sight of blood spilling from his mouth. This was bad. Dean tried to help Cas get back on his feet, but Cas shook his head, staying put.

“I’m too weak,” Cas said, wincing as his words emphasized the pain of his bruised ribs. “You have to go without me.”

“Cas, don’t do this.”

The ground rumbled again, and the pounding of demon footsteps drew closer. There wasn’t time to argue.

“This is where I belong, Dean. You still have a chance to save yourself.”

“No. Not this time. We’re so close. I’m not leaving you behind.”

“Must you be so stubborn, Dean? You can still make it.” Cas’s voice rumbled with frustration. “Go.”

Dean recognized instantly that that was not a request, but an order. He didn’t care. He knew how this played out once, saw first hand the miserable fall out of it all, and as long as he still had his own free will, he wasn’t going to let it happen again.

“Not without you,” Dean said, reaching his hand out again to try to help Cas. Cas knocked it away, overcome with anger.

“Damn it, Dean, why won’t you just go!”  

“Because I love you, Cas!” Shock hit Dean as the words left his mouth. Even though he knew Cas felt the same way, it still somehow felt too heavy, too intimate to actually speak into existence. It felt like his soul was an open wound, raw and exposed. He turned his gaze to the ground, trying to compose himself. He had to keep it together if he was going to get them back to Earth. “So don’t you ask me to leave you, because I can’t do that. We’re both getting out of here, or we’re both dying here, and those are the only two options, got it?”

Cas nodded, the faint hint of a smile forming. “Got it.”

Two demons caught up with them, and set their sights on Cas. Dean could see the bloodlust in their eyes, and attacked them before they could make their move. He made quick work of them, stabbing them and sending them to wherever demons go when they die in the Empty. He didn’t care. All that mattered was that they were gone, and he could get Cas to safety.

Dean slid his arm around Cas, lifting him up. Cas was right, he was weak. He had a limp, and he was bleeding, but Dean could handle it.

“I got you, buddy. Don’t worry.”

Dean picked Cas up into a fireman’s carry, more demons charging toward them in the distance, and with the last bit of strength he had, he ran into the rift.

They landed back in the bunker, and Dean knew he didn’t have much time. He grabbed the container of holy oil he used earlier and poured it into a bowl. He pulled the altered angel blade from his pocket and used it to stir the mixture. It had both plasma from the Empty, and demon blood on it. Two birds with one stone. Hopefully.

“Hang in there, Cas, alright. It’s almost over,” Dean said, drawing a devil’s trap with the oil around the still open rift. He struck a match, and dropped it on the oil, watching the sigil burst into tall flames.

The devil’s trap began to glow before shooting a beam of light up to the ceiling. The light pulsed for a second, then swallowed the rift as it contracted and disappeared. The fire went out, leaving nothing but the faint wisps of smoke in its wake.

The bunker was quiet. Dean and Cas looked around, there was no sign of the Empty, no sign that any angels or demons had followed them back. It was just the two of them, alone.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dean grabbed some bandages and rubbing alcohol, despite Cas’s objection to leave him be and that he didn’t need to be fussed over. He carefully cleaned his wounds, and bandaged up the really bad cuts.

As Dean cleaned the blood from the corner of Cas’s mouth, his hand resting gently on his chin, the pricking tickle of peach fuzz against his fingers, he looked into Cas’s eyes, and swore he could see the rest of his life right there.

“Cas, there’s something I have to tell you, man.”

“No, Dean, it’s fine. You don’t have to-“

“Just let me say this.” Dean took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to focus on all the reasons why he needed to say this, instead of the voice telling him to keep his mouth shut. “When you told me you loved me, I didn’t know what to say. There was so much happening, and there just wasn’t enough time.”

There was a tightening in the back of Dean’s throat, and God damn it, he didn’t want to cry, but when you’re unearthing something that’s been buried for decades, it hurts like hell.

“Cas, you mean more to me than I can even say. It’s so hard for me to admit that, because everyone I care about dies, and I can’t handle losing you again. Every single time you left me, I fell apart. And I know you don’t think that’s true, because I never told you, but honestly, it was just because I was scared. I was scared of my own feelings, I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same way about me, I was scared you couldn’t feel that way about me. And then you said it, and it was like my world turned on its head. It was everything I wanted, and everything I was so sure I couldn’t have all at once. I didn’t even have a chance to process any of it before you were just… gone.”

Dean took Cas’s hands into his own, both of their eyes brimming with tears. This time Dean knew in the back of his head that no one was coming to ruin his happiness, even if his heart couldn’t fully accept it yet. He knew he was safe with Castiel, the angel, who out of many options, chose to love. The angel who gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. The angel who saw the best in him, when he only saw the worst in himself. The angel who gave up an army, rebelled against heaven, gave up his own life so many times for one man.

“So, say it to me again, so I can give you the answer that you deserve.”

Cas smiled, tears falling down his cheeks. He had hoped for years, that this moment would be a reality, but he, much like Dean, didn’t think it possible. But here he was, holding hands with the human who made him question order and obedience. The human who felt things so deeply, and loved with all his heart. The human who changed him, and how he saw the world, and the world itself.

“Dean,” Cas began, happiness filling his being. His smile, full of pure joy. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Cas.”

Without hesitation, and because he felt like he couldn’t hold himself back even one more second, Dean pulled Cas in close and kissed him. The too-rough passion of it, as if their lips found their soulmate, was so much better then what either of them imagined. The wax and wane of their breaths slipping between tongues— a song to say “yes” to when a lover asks if they can have this dance. It was a gentle surrender to bliss, a white flag they both wished to wave for far too long.

In that moment, with nothing more between them, no more lies, no more doubt, they both got to experience a moment of true happiness. They got to experience each other. No consequences. No punishment. Just true, honest, peace.

Their voices were no longer silenced by the forces they thought held dominion over them. This was not the end of their story, but the beginning. They were two magnificent beings, brought together not by fate, but by free will, finally being able to live the life they deserved— one full of hope, endless possibilities, and knowing that the person they loved, loved them in return.

[aksthetwosainthijimiko-blog]

I’m Not Zero

So... what happens when I turn Zero as a Vaishnava (someone’s whose Navigator is God, Krishna)?

Not what you’d expect.

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

Phantom struggled, he had lost the fight, he was as close to shut down as he could... and would bring Zero with him to the void.

Or... this had been the plan.

But it seemed the Red Plague had other plans.

“G... Get of me!” Phantom scream as he tried to dislodge the maverick currently plugged in his system, hacking his programs and turning of the self-destruction module that had been about to activate...robbing the Shinobi of his glorious sacrifice in the most shameful and disgusting of manner.

“Nope... Not after what you tried to do, coward.” Zero spat as he reduced Phantom’s mobility to that of a newborn kitten. Still pressing onto him, preventing the already damaged reploid from even attempting to fight him off...

He had a mission to finish, and if he had to take his own miserable life to get the wily old model scrapped.

Said wily old model was now currently crushing him against the far wall. And despite Phantom’s superior processing speed, Zero’s movement speed had been beyond what he could record.

And for this... he was now disarmed and experiencing the horrifying reality that Zero was in his OS.

Unable to lift his weight, the Shinobi was lowered to the ground by the bane of Neo-Arcadia. Said bane unplugged from Phantom and turned him around so that he was sitting more or less comfortably with the wall at his back.

“Hey... you alright there?” He dared to asked as if he really cared for an enemy.

“You hacked me!” Phantom accused as he tried to burn the sicko with his eyes.

It was inefficient, but it would have to do.

“You were about to suicide.” Zero stated as he peered right into Phantom’s soul. His dark eyes holding a power beyond anything the Shinobi had experienced before.

Not even from a fully grown elf.

“... and why do you care?” He challenged as he tried to unlock his detonation protocols, only to discover that it was completely gone. “Curse you...curse you to the deepest pits of hell!” He tried to scream, but he only managed to hissed it.

Then... Zero did something that took Phantom completely off guard.

Zero smiled.

“Oh... Thank you.” He spoke with not a shred of sarcasm. “May you reach Goloka then.” the bid to the downed guardian.

“Gee, thanks... may you go to Goloka too then.” Phantom slathered as much hatred and sarcasm he could...like a human would do with this brown stuff.

But instead of anger born of a bruised ego, Zero’s gave an even brighter smile! “Great! So don't you dare suicide again, and I’ll personally let you pass Chandranana stick.” he declared as he finally moved out from Phantom’s face... only to sit beside him on the most infuriating and casual manner as possible. Even daring to appeared tired as he let out a huff.

Phantom did his best to ignore him... and attempted to contact reinforcement. Only to be met with a disabled transceiver. Zero had cut whatever access to help he had.

The black and white reploid managed to slid his eyes toward the maverick... he was all alone with the beast, the killer of all mutos and... there was nothing he could do.

Phantom closed his eyes...and began to empty his mind of all thoughts and fear. If he was about to face death...or worst, then he would rather prepare himself and enter the void even before Zero had any chance to corrupt and kill him...or worst.

Time became meaningless, his body but a suggestion...and his mind silent...

“Hare Hare...Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare...Hare Krishna Hare Krishna..”

Phantom’s eyes flew open, his meditation broken. And openly gapped at the maverick.

Zero was sitting in a lotus position, he still had his erect back to the wall, his head held high and gently swinging to the Mantra.

Oh, Phantom knew what a mantra sounded like...and he knew what Mantra meditation was. He was just taken aback as to how the bane of Neo-arcadia’s well-being knew mantra meditation... Not that it was such a great thing.

Those mantras were just crushes, aids for calming the mind. Eventually, the practitioner would keep them inside his purified mind...and finally, they would need nothing.

“So... you still at level one.” Phantom sneered, more than willing to rib the beast until he would either go mad and or leave. “ Pathetic, you can’t even remain in silence.”

“...not really.” Zero admitted. “The Maha-Mantra is meant to be shared with other’s. The more you share, the more potent it gets.” He revealed with a (beatific) smile. Then he turned to Phantom. “How about you? What do you meditate on?” He asked... “Actually, can you wait for... I think thirty minutes? I just have four rounds left to chant and... I would like to finish them today.”

Phantom stared.

Zero sighed. “Listen... the reason why I’m hiding here is that I didn’t have any peace for the last five days since my resurrection. And I barely had anytime to chant any rounds... and my Gayatris.” He admitted with a grumble.

Phantom gapped... this... His intel had told him nothing about that.

“I just want thirty minutes... more if possible.” Zero sighed. “I really don't want to cause any trouble.”

“Not cause us trouble?!” Phantom scoffed. “Well, didn’t you destroy our most important supply train? Took over a factory... And now you’re here to kill master X!” The Shinobi accused the mad man.

“Yeah... Sorry about the train... I still have no idea why Ciel wanted the thing gone. And the computer’s too.” He admitted as he rubbed the back of his helmet.

“Wait... What computer?” Phantom asked.

“You know, the one Leviathan used for Hacking the resistance... I was supposed to destroy them but... I just turned them off, I hope it didn’t cause any inconveniences.” Zero admitted as he let his head heavily rest on the wall, his helmet noisily hitting it. “I swear... I had no idea what I was doing half the time... Thank God for.... God.”

Once again, Phantom hidden brows reached the top of his unseen hair. “God?”

“Yeah... you know, Krishna. He helped me realized that what I was doing was dangerous. Still had to stop this damn train tough, it would have derailed by junction 2-b, by the park... That’s what He said anyway.”

A shudder intruded in Phantom’s frame. Yes, he knew this infamous junction in Neo-arcadia’s most popular park.

Why was there a park in such a dangerous area, and why was a centennial overpass above it that kept dropping pieces of concrete... it could only be a device by the urban sector to do some population control...

‘Alright... Have to look into this mater...’ Phantom tried not to be to happy and admit that Zero’s presence and destructive behaviour had work out for the best in the end but...

“What are your intention?” He asked, not expecting much from the maverick.

“Serve Krishna... Stop the fake from spiting on my X’s legacy and memory and find his tomb.” He revealed like one listed a grocery list.

Phantom stared at him owlishly. “I beg your pardon?”

“My ultimate mission is to constantly serve the lotus feet of God, Sri-Krishna. And He just so happens to like X enough to help me get him out of trouble again.” Zero elaborated to a still confused guardian. “He told me he was between Area X and the throne room at the top. I may have to face Ciel’s copy... But He told me killing him will only make things worst.” He huffed.

“Wait, wait wait! What do you mean by... Ah...”

“Confused?”

“Yes...” Phantom peevishly admitted. “Let’s start with the...copy.”

“Four years ago, Ciel made a copy of X, he went crazy...like all copies do, and now she wants me to kill him.” The ever infuriating Zero explain. “Even X want’s him dead... By the way, do you have any idea why X is now a Cyber-elf?” He asked the Shinobi, who was still trying to compute what Zero had just said.

“What?”

“ X got turned into a cyber-elf... so I guess he’s a... like  Ghost, but Krishna told me he’s more like an astral-projection.” He explained.

 “So God told you.” He pointed at Zero. “That our master X... is a copy.... and that the real one is... still alive and astral-projecting as a cyber-elf... and he never spoke to us?” Phantom scoffed. “Alright, what Type of third-party program you downloaded to get this High?”

“None... That was Ciel, the one who made the copy... who told me about the Copy.”

“And you are aware she’s a traitor to Neo-Arcadia?”

“And you are aware that her information was confirmed by a disembodied X?”

“And how do you know it was X? For all you know, this crazy-cyber elf is just pretending to be X and Ciel, being the junior terrorist she is, tricked you all to assassinate our glorious master.” Phantom shot back. “And aren’t you supposed to suffer from amnesia?”

“ Oh, Krishna cured me of that... I just didn't tell people.” Zero gave a shrugged. “Listen, I’ve known X before the first maverick war, and we’ve been partner for fifty years before I did my dumb pro-move.” Zero informed the practically immobile phantom. “ I Know my Partner...and I know that his biggest pet peeve is to have a fraud use his face to propagate racism and wholesale slaughter. Oh, and speaking with which, were you aware as to how they retire reploid at the centre?” The now incense reploid asked the still very confused Phantom. “They crush them to death under a spiked platform... the operator stand on top.” Zero glowered.

Phantom stared at the fuming mad-bot... “Ah! And you want me to believe that?!”

Zero’s gaze did not move from Phantom’s... but his featured now held the eyes of a man who saw too much. 

And suddenly... Phantom received a tiny video package... it was the fight with Aztec Falcon... on top of a very oily platform... some retired units crushed limbs and a very small reploid’s head was still stuck on the spikes. Their empty gaze boring a hole in Phantoms artificial soul.

Now... Phantom was used to the horrors of wars... and he knew what torture was, but those he would question would always have a swift death by his blade and their bodies respectfully disposed not... not...

“Harpuia... Harpuia must not... this is...” He felt sick... quite a feat for one who lacked a gagging reflex. Something that was useless in his thankless job.

“If he’s aware of it... Krishna gave me permission to cut off his head...” Zero’s tone held a dark promise of retribution. And Phantom was certain he would and could see it through. “This is what the resistance is fighting against... and this is why X told me to destroy his Copy with extreme prejudice.”

Phantom’s head snapped back toward the red nemesis.

“And... Gods... what did God have to do with all this again?” Phantom weekly asked, feeling his whole world to be reduced in rubble.

“Ah... Krishna’s just navigating me toward and auspicious result. Something that won't leave a bloody crater at my exact location.” Zero informed the Shinobi as if this was a complete normal thing to go through. “And he told me where I could find X... He’s in a coma and... Basically, he sealed a very confused elf with his frame, this caused him to... get pushed out of his current body and now... I have to get him out of this tower and try to convince the goof to return.”

“And then?”

“And then... if I succeed, I give a new name to the copy, teach him how to be the best ruler he can, then I bring X to Mayapur where we will live our last decades away from politics, wars and whatever else made this place famous.” Zero enumerated as he once again took to the lotus position. “Now... If you’ll excuse me, I have a few rounds I have to chant...”

“Why did you tell me all this?” Phantom asked, still shaken by the numerous revelation he had just received from the second oldest reploid in the world.

“Krishna told me I couldn’t to it alone... and from everyone in Neo-Arcadia, you're the sanest.” And with that, he began to chant again, leaving a very stunned Phantom to compute all the information he had just received.

Thirty minutes later, Zero’s pleasant drone stopped, and he got up. “Alright... I’ll just... give you back your limbs, I couldn’t risk having you have another go again.” He mumbled as he turned Phantom around and, after repluging it to his system in the most respectful way possible, switched his cerveaus back on. even going as far as to help the ninja up and dusting him off.

Then he took a step back, inspecting Phantom under a critical eye...

Then he reached in his meta-pocket.

Phantom... quite stupidly froze. Only to be proven wrong when Zero pulled out an Energen tank. it was already open... And half-drained.

“I know... It’s all I have.” Zero apologized.

Phantom stared at... maybe a peace offering.

Reviewing all that he had learned, and the revelation the mad man had given him....

He pushed the can away. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I’d rather you have it Zero.”

The Red Legend stared at Phantom, his features unreadable.

“You need it more than I...” Not really, but the Guardian of darkness knew where to find the emergency rations. “ I will humour you and let you look in every nook and Cranny of this tower for X. If you find it and prove that the one I’ve been serving is a Plagia, then I will personally kill him. If not... Your life will be forfeited.” He intoned darkly. “You have twenty-four hours...”

“Oh ah... Thank you. I...” A small and infinitely grateful smile light his features. “This... this is more than I deserve.”

“Indeed.” Phantom inclined his head, sending a message to his fellow guardian. “You may stay here and prepare... Mediate as long as you desire, the day is not over yet.”

“No... I’d rather not waste anyone's time. And Krishna’s telling me the earlier I start the better. Thank you for the offer tough.” Zero paused... it was clear he was listening to someone. “Krishna just told me that you have to come with me since I will need a trustworthy witness. You fit the bill.”

“You know I’m a ninja, right?” Phantom asked.

“So am I... and as He said, your trustworthy.” And with that, Zero closed the subject and turned his heels. “Come on, we need to get to area-X, He said that’s were the service door to Yig... Yadra... To where X is.”

“Alright... lead the way.” At this point Phantom had nothing to lose... and he had the feeling this would prove to be most entertaining.

“Oh, by the way. You may call me Dhira-Lalita Das... Or just Lalita, for short.” Zero informed the shinobi... who had that point just nodded, humouring the clearly insane obsolete model.

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

And this monstrosity was born after that failed R.P...to be continued.

[shadowknight465]

The sleep did not get him any better. Even after he stretch he still has a huge back pain. He then push his spine thinking he got scoliosis, One of the most scariest bone disorder known to skeletons, however can be cured easily. Nothing.

"NIGHTMARE HOW DID I GET HERE?!" Nightmare heard Dream yelled.

"I'VE CARRIED YOU HERE!" Nightmare yelled back.

"Oh. Thank you."

Nightmare rolled his eye sockets. The one thing that Nightmare is envious of Dream that is not part society or what they had to protect is his innocence. "Hey, Dream. Can you do me a favor?" Nightmare asked. "Sure, what is it?" Dream answer confused. Nightmare rarely ask for any favors. It was mostly him.

"Can you watch over my side of the tree, while I go to the Chiurgeon? I had this irritating spine pain."

"Sure."

Nightmare put down his crown on the nearest table and grabbed his dirty traveling cape and walk to town without being seen to get to the doctor, while praying he won't get part of his spine amputated.

~~~~~

After waiting and bargaining for help for almost 2 hours, The Chiurgeon finally agree on giving him a check up. He took Nightmare to a small room with a large table and told him to lay on his face down. To which he did. "I'm not going to hurt you, but I need you to stay still and relax." The Chiurgeon order. Nightmare nodded and took a deep breath.

"Count backwards from 10." The Chiurgeon ordered. Nightmare took another deep breath close his eyes and count backwards from 10. However he should've known that the Chiurgeon was going to perform a middle spine surgery on him. He could feel the cold blade running deep into a spine and going up to where the pain is, he gripped on the side of the table so hard he could easily filled the wooden splinters going through his joints.

"Strange..Sir how did you got this jewel your back?" The Chiurgeon asked trying to pull where the pain is out. "J-Jewel?" Nightmare grunts. "Yes and it's shaped like the rising crescent moon."

As much as he was confused he was intrigued on what condition he was in.

"So you can fix it? Right?" He asked. "Back in my home country, a jewel on your back is a mark by death."

Nightmare slowly got up. "I'm so sorry Monsieur..."

"Crescent. Crescent X." Nightmare came up with a random name in order to not get hurt again. The Chiurgeon then grab a paper and feather and drew the mark he has seen on Nightmare. "I'm afraid I can't remove it, but I can hide your scars with a tattoo." He said as he console the demon he heard about without knowing. Nightmare nodded in deep thinking. "But I have a family and what should I tell him-THEM?!" Nightmare corrected himself. "I'm afraid that a problem you have to face alone." Nightmare look down. He had wanted death a while, but it's mostly because of the bullying he's been through; but now he's actually dying? What's going to happen to his brother? After all Dream is still a kid mentally. "In order to ease your pain how about I give you a tattoo of your choosing?" The Chiurgeon asked with the fatherly tone his voice. Nightmare nodded. He chose the tattoo with the moons on it.

~~~~~

"Nightmare had to go to the Chiurgeon, until then I had to-Oh! Hey brother." Dream interrupted himself. Dream what towards his brother, but Nightmare raise a hand to stop him. "Sorry little sun, but I had back surgery." He said. "Oh." Dream stop. His brother taught him about recovery from any kind of surgery, so he respects his twin personal boundaries now. Luckily skeletons can recover bone surgery pretty quickly. So it won't be long until he can give a nightmare a bear hug again.

"So what did the Chiurgeon say?" Dream asked changing the subject. Nightmare never thought he had to tell him. Should he? He's scared about how his brother would react to this badly. He took a deep breath and said. "It's alright, I just had a scoliosis, but the Chiurgeon fix it up." Nightmare lied. "Phew, I thought it was something serious for a second." Dream sigh relief. Pretty soon they saw a family of merfolk admiring dreams golden apples, while the father spread curses and untrue rumors about Nightmare. Which reminded Nightmare of something.

"Dream? When is the last time you took a bath?"

Dream's face went a pale yellow. He took a step, then start running screaming.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Nightmare started chasing after him yelling.

"GET YOUR HIP-BONE RIGHT BACK HERE YOUNG MAN!"

~~~~~~

Dream sat miserably at the shallow waters in the lake as herbs mix with honey and water was poured on his head. "Look, I get it you don't want to take a bath at all, but by the time we leave each other, and you go find a nice wife; you have to take a bath just show her that you are responsible." Nightmare explains to his brother. Dream suddenly cringe which causes Nightmare some suspicion.

"Are you OK little bro?" Nightmare asked.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Dream asked. "You can tell me anything." Nightmare responded. "It weird I keep thinking every species or gender is attractive? I don't want to be shame, but I don't want to fall for the wrong person either." Dream asked putting his head down in shame. Nightmare pauses for a moment. So he's not the only one with a similar problem. " I don't think it's fair at all, besides I have a similar problem."

"R-Really?" Dream look up. "Really, I don't find anyone attractive, unless I have a very close bond with them."

Dream smile. Then without warning he's splash some cold water into his brother face. Nightmare wiped it off and took his shirt off, then ran towards Dream.

"WHY YOU LITTLE-"

The laughing that the twins had made was so loud everyone thought they were performing incest, when they were actually playing. So much so that the priest had to come and check to see what's going on only to find Nightmare pinning his brother down and tickling him.

"NIGHTMARE! DREAM! WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?!" He yelled. The brothers stopped then turn to each other.

"I was just giving him a bath until he decides that he wants to play." Nightmare told the truth while getting up, revealing that he still wearing pants, but also revealing of his mark.

"Nightmare you've been marked by the devil." He said shocked.

"It's just a scar." Dream said. "Dream you have to get away from your brother." He responded while pulling his brother back, while not caring that in a Dream is naked.

"No. It's just a tattoo." Dream backs up his brother.

"Then explain the jewel on his back." The Priest said.

Dream looked at his brother's back. " It could mean something else." He said. Admiring the jewel.

"Dream, marks like those means evil. So Lucifer put that mark there on Nightmare to be his young prince of darkness."

Dream put his hands on his hips. " I may be naïve, but I'm not stupid. So pardon me, but can you please be my brother alone?"

Nightmare was just as shocked as the other guy. All this time he thought his brother was too innocent for this world. Dream walked away to put his clothes back on and made a gesture for Nightmare to live with him.

"D-Dream? Why did you-?" Nightmare scamper he was barely shown kindness before.

"You're my brother and you're the first want to understand me." Nightmare I was confused for a bit, but he went along.

"You know the guy who gave you the tattoo should've gave you more for your other scars." Dream commented. "If he did that then I would be accuse of practicing black magic." Nightmare explains.

"I see your point."

~~~~~~

After giving some thought and when Dream finally fell sleep. He decided to read the book.

Most of the stuff was a bit odd such as, how death will come to you gently telling you about your fate or when you are jealous by your actions and your thoughts. Or how much they scale your sins with a star that supposed to represent you. The pure version of you. And on how that life of the afterlife is like. No more pain or suffering, you'll meet all your friends who also had passed, and are you are able to be at peace. That is if you can go to Heaven. The bad side to death is if you go to Hell there's more than pain in there then life. And there's more than one hell out there. 7 and one more if a Prince decided to take vengeance on the descendants of who betrayed him. Which to Nightmare doesn't seem fair at all. They have not spell blood, but there ancestors have so they shouldn't be punished. Then there's The Nerco Empire, where are the people who committed suicide for selfless reasons can go. And the emperor can go between the world of living in the world at the dead so no one can suffer like he had. It's been said that he's dress and its been said that he's dress an a Priest, but grim reaper like robes. Carries a scythe shape like the moon that can end all suffering, also been said his powers didn't come from his energy, but his wisdom. Nightmare smile at the mythology. It's been so long since he read a mythology that doesn't protrude the moon as the evil one. Then he read that there's a prophecy. Where the moon had end his life so the sun can shine brighter than before, but it was all in vain. For the sun took his rage onto the people he was supposed to protect and only the moon can free them. After the world ends the moon will rise an army to take down the sun where they became whole once again.

When Nightmare put the book down he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turns and saw Dream with sleepy eyes. "Nighty, can you sing me that lullaby again?" He yawn.

"Is something wrong?" Nightmare asked putting his hand on his brothers shoulders.

"I had a bad dream where you suddenly disappeared without telling me why."

Nightmare was shock to hear this. He took a deep breath and try to console his brother. "Sunshine, why are you so worried about it you got friends who will be there for you."

"Because..." Tears fell from Dream's eyesockets. "I don't know how can I live without you. And I know you're my brother, but you more than that. You're like a part of me that I can't lose. And you're the only one I can talk to when I'm feeling down."

Dream then gave his brother a unexpected hug and balled his eyes out. Nightmare can only shush and rub his brother back as he tries to remember the lullaby their mother use to sing to them.

"Peaceful dreams

Sleeping nectar

As the darkness fades away

When I find you once more

I'll make sure that you're safe

Never fear for I am still here

Holding you in my arms for eternity

And remember who you are

My little star"

Dream fell sleep on Nightmare arms again. Nightmare thought about why his brother loves to fall asleep on his arms and he quickly had a memory. Where his brother told him that he loves the sound of his soul beat. That it was like a gentle drum. Nightmare put Dream back to his bed again and went to his desk and wrote the documentary of the day.

June 18, 1517

The pain I had on my back from last night turned out to be a jewel. From the dream I had last night wasn't a dream at all at least that's what I believe. I was given a tattoo to hide my scars when I try to remove it but the help of a Chiurgeon. He told me in his religion that my Jewel is a mark for death, yet the priest said it is the mark of the devil. I didn't my brother about the mark for death idea because I'm afraid of his reaction. But if it is true, then am I really going to die?

He put the feather down and went his bed. And thought about the last thing he wrote. If he is going to die at least his Journals will tell the truth of all future generations about their ancestors, and how they were abusive to him and his brother.

Previous:

[staticscreenwriting]

thinking only autumn thoughts - Billy Hargrove

Synopsis: Autumn is magic. Billy is soft. 

A/N: I don’t even know what this is I just liked writing it. Please let me know what you think. Thanks :)

“October Country . . . that country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and mid-nights stay [...]

That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain. . . . “

Hawkins Indiana isn’t a spectacular town by all means. It’s small and old and boring. It’s not particularly pretty to look at either with it’s peeling paint and rusty nails and dirty shop windows.

But there’s a certain time of year, just a few days almost over by the time you realize it, where things change. It’s a feeling in the air. A whisper in the wind. A scent that reminds you of childhood memories you thought long forgotten.

It’s when all is painted in the last hues of reds and orange but fall knows it’s time to go and let winter take over. The air is cold a crips and nips at your nose and blushes your cheeks but it’s still warm enough to take walks along the fields.

That’s when he met her. He was new in town and angry. Always angry. And sad. And she was — alive. Even now, years later, he’s not sure what he ever did right for things to fall into place the way they did that night.

He was hanging out at yet another party of yet another classmate he didn’t give a shit about. And he was miserable and bored and filled with teenage angst and repressed emotions. And there she was, in the middle of a crowd, ripped jeans and a madonna shirt and bright pink lipstick. Her hair was permed to the max and she wore the ugliest hoop earrings he’d ever seen. It wasn’t like he fell in love with her then, but there was something about her that intrigued him. She looked like a downright mess. Like she was the physical embodiment of how he felt inside. Hell, she was drinking one of those disgusting wine coolers. If that doesn’t scream misery to you, what does ?

He saw her again, a few days later. Sitting on the front porch of her house, just a few down from his. She looked sad again. Still beautiful. And when she caught his eye, she started to smile. Her hair was flowing in the wind and her cheeks were flushed and the tip of her nose was red from the cold and Billy, for the first time in his life, thought that maybe he was falling in love.

Things changed that day, when they started talking. About the weather and school and Hawkins and their shared hatred of the town and how all they wanted was to get out.

They spent that night together, at the playground behind their houses. Just talking. About the misery of a lost childhood and a fuck up youth. About their families and how messed up they were. About mother and the absence of those. About heartbreak and life. And love.

And since that night things were never the same again.

Every year for all the years he’s spent in Hawkins Indiana that was his favorite time. Because she seemed to come alive then. With her hair flowing in the wind and Halloween gone and forgotten and Christmas still a month away she was — almost weightless.

And every Thanksgiving, when the nuclear families stepped up a notch in pretending to be perfect, they’d suffer through a fake display of familiar love and comfort waiting for the right moment to slip away and meet up.

The diner was almost deserted that night, obviously. Families had better things to do than have their Thanksgiving meal at the local diner with the soggy fries and the burned burger patties. But to them it was good. It was everything.

He told her he loved her there. With the pink neon lights lighting up her face like she was a character in the Blade Runner movie.

And she told him she loved him back.

It was a good time in Hawkins, the bridge between fall and winter. Where things are cold but they felt so warm inside.

Only winter inevitably came. And it came with cold and fury and heartbreak.

It’s years later that he gets to witness another Thanksgiving in Hawkins. Another magical moment between fall and winter. Only it doesn’t seem to magical when he arrives.

The occasion isn’t a happy one to begin with. It’s not the long awaited bonding of his patchwork family. No. He’s not being welcomed with open arms.

He’s welcomed by a frail looking Neil in a hospital bed hooked to machines, connected by tubes.

His dad is dying. That’s the inevitable truth of it all and Billy has no idea how to feel about this. This situation is so strangely familiar but so very different.

When it was his mom, he was a kid and he didn’t know shit about life and death and mortality. He just knew that his mom was there one day and the next she was in the hospital and then she was dead and he was sad and angry.

This time he knows so much more but his head is still kind of empty. As is his heart. His mother’s passing hit him deeply. She was this wonderful woman who held nothing but kindness and love in her heart. Neil is an abusive asshole.

But he’s still his dad and no matter how much Billy tries to deny it, he’s still just a broken boy asking for a sign of approval, a hint of pride, a tiny sliver of love from his dad.

All he gets is a snarky remark about his new haircut and a snort when he tells Neil about his job at a center for troubled youth.

So he bids Max and Susann goodbye and goes to the one place that holds good memories for him.

Only when he enters the diner it’s not a good feeling that washes over him. There’s the nostalgia of what this place holds sure, but it all feels less magical and way more sad when he has to face it alone.

He asks for a piece of pumpkin pie, which he doesn’t even particularly like but (Y/N) always loved it and some stupid ass part of his brain thinks that maybe that can bring them closer even if she’s not here.

“ You look like you could use some company “ Clarice, the waitress says but Billy declines. Not because he doesn’t like her, in fact she’s always treated him nicely when im and (Y/N) came around, no he’s just really shit at small talk. And that’s what she’s gonna expect from him.

So she walks off and for a moment he’s left alone with his soggy fries and a U2 song playing over the stereo.

Then the clicking of heels catches his attention and it’s just ridiculous how fast his heart starts to beat when he looks up and is greeted by (Y/N) walking towards him. Like it hasn’t been years since they have last seen each other. Like they haven’t broken up a long time ago. Like their last meeting wasn’t yelling and tears and heartbreak and throwing clothes out of windows.

But it all feels like a lifetimes ago. Like it happened to two completely different people. And all that’s there right now is this immense warmth spreading through his body and consuming him.

“ Hi “ she says and smiles and suddenly the diner isn’t so sad anymore.

She looks so different. Her hair isn’t permed anymore and the lipstick is now red instead of hot pink and she’s wearing gold studs instead of pink hopps but there’s still that shimmer of wonder and passion in her eyes and she’s still smiling like the girl she used to be. She’s a different person now but she’s still everything good in the world. At least to Billy.

“ Hi “

“ Can I sit down ? “

What a question.

“ Of course “

They’re quiet for a moment but there’s a tension building. Like the air before a thunderstorm. Electric.

“ I like the haircut. It suits you, I always told you. “

She had. But the mullet was his thing. The physical rebellion against his dad’s stupid rules and restrictions. Also he looked fucking cool and anyone who says differently is clearly wrong.

“ Thanks. You look — “ Billy knows he’s biased.This girl is part of all his happy memories of the last few years. She could be wearing a paper bag and shave her head and dye her eyebrows green and he’d still think she is gorgeous.

“ — good “

That’s fucking lame, honestly. But his heart is beating way too fast to come up with a proper answer.

“ Clarice called me, thought you looked sad. Like you could use some company “

They just fall back into conversation, like nothing has happened. Like they’re old friends who don’t have a shit ton of baggage. Who don’t have a backstory. Who didn’t love too fast, too hard, too much.

“ … and he’s dying. We know it. He knows it. I just — I feel like I should be sad, you know ? Like I should feel something. But I don’t. I don’t even feel relieved I just feel indifferent “

By the time they get to his father’s condition they’ve shared 3 milkshakes and (Y/N) has finished his piece of pumpkin pie.

“ Does that make me a bad person ? A bad son ? “

When she places her hand on his in comfort, Billy thinks he might die of a heart attack. Also he thinks he’s being fucking ridiculous. What is this ? A stupid John Hughes movie ? Fuck no.

“ Absolutely not ! This man has been making your life a living hell, Billy. You don’t have to be sad about him dying. I mean I get why you’re not happy, he’s still your dad. But you don’t owe him sadness. You don’t “

He hasn’t realized until now but she’s right, he felt like he might be owing Neil a certain kind of reaction. Sadness or pity or a hint of gratitude for — well for what exactly ?

“ He might be your father but he never stepped up to actually do his job as a dad. You’re allowed to feel the way you feel about it. “

Life gets overwhelming for Billy a lot of times. It moves too fast and sometimes he feels like it’s all spinning out of control. Like the world is turning and he’s gonna fall off. And then his breathing gets fast and his heart starts beating and his palms get clammy.

A girl from the youth center, Emma, she feels like that too, she told him. She’s 7 and she’s smart and she’s dealing with a family so much like his own, it breaks his heart. “ But then I think of my sister and my friends and my favorite song and the feeling in my tummy when I ride the teacup ride at the carnival and things don’t seem so bad no more “.

Billy looks up at (Y/N) and thinks of what they’ve been through and kissing her for the first time and them dancing to time after time at the prom he didn’t even want to go to but did anyway and had a good time and about the feeling of holding her in his arms during those magical fall nights. And then things don’t seem so bad no more, indeed.

“ Why did we break up ? “

If he’s being quite honest with himself, he knows why. It’s not one specific reason but an amalgamation of so many things. They just seem so pointless and trivial in the grand scheme of things now that he looks at it all as an adult.

“ Because we sucked “

“ We didn’t “

“ Yeah we kinda did. Billy we were both so caught in our own teenage angst and felt so miserable all the time. We were toxic for each other “.

“ What are you talking about ? You were the only thing in my life that wasn’t toxic. You were the only good thing ! “

“ See ? That’s the problem. We were so dependent on each other. I was waiting for you to fix me and trying to fix you at the same time. That’s not healthy, Billy. “

It’s the truth now that he thinks about it. While they were together, Billy hasn’t really made a move on bettering himself, not really. Yeah he’d calmed down considerably but none of those positive changes he’d ever given himself credit for. It was her that changed him and her he changed for.

And maybe his love wasn’t what made her life better either. Maybe that was all her doing. Maybe it was just growing up.

“ Do you really think we were that bad ? “ he asks and he’s scared of the answer. He doesn’t for one minute think about her regretting their time together.

“ If you’re asking me if I would do it all again, knowing what I know now. Then yes. Because I loved you Billy and when we were good we were spectacular. “

A silence settles upon them again as Billy ponders about their relationship. He’s glad she doesn’t regret giving him a chance. He doesn’t think he could live another day knowing the one person that showed him love in the last decade regrets just that.

“ So I told you why I’m back, why are you back ? “

If there’s one person that hates Hawkins just as much as he doesn, it’s (Y/N). Seeing her back here all grown up and mature, really surprises him.

“ I felt homesick. I know my family isn’t perfect but ya know, distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that shit. “

He might’ve not seen her in years but Billy can still tell she’s lying. Some things never change.

“ That’s bullshit. You hated Hawkins, what changed ? “

(Y/N) cracks a grin because of course he could tell that she wasn’t honest. It’s Billy.

“ I don’t think I hated Hawkins as much as I hated myself in it. It was just easy to blame everything on the town and the people except of taking a look at myself, you know ? “

“ Sure, doesn’t answer the question though “

“ Well, remember after prom when we sat by the quarry and you asked me what I wanted to do after school and I told you I wanted to write a book and you told me you wanted to help kids who are going through what you went through ? “

“ I do “

It was the first night Billy ever told anyone about his plans for the future. He wasn’t really one to spill his guts to people, still isn’t. So this meant a great deal. Especially since he didn’t really believe his plan was ever going to come true anyway. But she had been so honest and vulnerable with him then, it only felt fair to give something back.

“ I have been trying to write this stupid book for years and I just feel blank whenever I start a new idea. So I really started thinking about what it is that I want to write about, what makes me feel. Sad, angry, happy — just anything, really. And it all came back to Hawkins. Hawkins and you “.

Billy doesn’t think he’s the kind of guy people write books about. He’s not special or intriguing or even particularly funny. But this is (Y/N) and she’s always seen him differently.

“ So I came back here, for Thanksgiving. For the red leaves and the cold wind and that short time a year where things seem — lighter”

So it isn’t just his nostalgia clouded imagination that makes that time of year look magical to him, if she feels it to it must mean something. Anything.

“ You were always happier that time of the year and I could never figure out what it was “

“ It��s when I met you “

It’s like a thunderstorm rolling through his body. Lighting strike to the heart. He’s played this scenario over in his head for so many times but never has he thought he was the reason for her happiness. That he made such a difference.

“ I still love you “

That’s the fundamental truth of it all, really. He loves her and he’s never stopped. Not saying it out loud seems like a disservice to both of them.

He’s not become a better man for her, he did that for himself. But the better man he is now, he’s deserving of her love. He’s someone that’s good enough for the woman she is now.

“ Do you think we still stand a chance ? “

She softly takes his hand in hers again, her hands still so much smaller than his and way softer, way warmer.

“ The kids we used to be ? Absolutely not. We can’t go back to that. But the people were are now ? I don’t see why not. I like who you are now. I like that you went out and did what you always wanted to do. That you’re so soft on the inside and loving and that you put so much effort into helping kids. I like that you still show up here when your dad is sick even if you have every reason not to. I could love you now. “

Really that’s enough for him.

“ Can I kiss you “

She nods and leans towards him. And she feels warm and tastes like pie and cigarettes and her.

And suddenly the magic was back, full force. And no winter and no cold and no frost would take it from him this time.

It’s another late fall a year or two later when they sit on a swing set much like the one behind their houses when they were younger and more bitter.

Her hair is still flowing in the wind the way it always did and he cheeks have not lost the subtle blush brought on by the cold.

One gloved hand holds on to the chain of the swing while the other grabs tightly to the book she’s reading from. Aloud and with so much passion and love in her voice, it makes Billy’s heart grow 3 sizes at least.

It’s a special time of the year for a different reason now. All of the year is magic now that they’re together again with no underlying anger no repressed sadness, no misery. Just them.

It’s special now for it’s when she holds the finished product of many sleepless night in her hands. Of tears and frustration and more love and passion and longing that she could ever properly describe.

And Billy, he holds the other special thing in his arms. The one that graced them just a few weeks earlier when the air was still warm. She’s tiny and perfect and she’s all Billy and (Y/N) ever wanted in life. It’s her first fall, her first time on a swing, softly rocking in her father’s arms. Her first spark of magic.

“ … and as they sit on the porch, coated in the golden glow of a setting october sun, all is well and warm in their hearts. For maybe obstacles had to be overcome and mountains had to be climbed in order to end up here. Sometimes people meet at the wrong time in life when things are cold and bitter and filled with a sadness that is too much for two people to contain. But sometimes, and they both know how rare these are, sometimes there’s a right time. A second chance. For people who are meant to be together. They were granted such a chance and so they took it, reaching out and grabbing it and never letting go, ever.

So that october evening, with the red sun setting upon the horizon they were both so very aware that with all odds against them, they still managed to come out just fine in the end. Like boats against the current they managed to reach the shore, not unharmed but alive. Maybe more alive than ever before.

And with the waves it washed away the hurt and the bitterness and all that was left was them and love and magic. “

When she finishes reading she looks up at him with a shy glance. She’s nervous. This is the most vulnerable she’s ever felt. This is years of work and dreams she’s been harboring for a lifetime.

“ Do you like it ? “

“ You wrote a book about us “ Billy says and smiles.

“ No “ (Y/N) replies “ I wrote a book about love, we just happen to have a lot of that in our lives. “

Hawkins Indiana isn’t a spectacular town by all means. It’s small and old and boring. It’s not particularly pretty to look at either with it’s peeling paint and rusty nails and dirty shop windows.

But there’s people here that can change things, that make it worth it. It’s a feeling in the air. A whisper in the wind. A scent that reminds you of childhood memories you thought long forgotten. It’s the smile on her face when she looks at Billy and the sound of his daughter’s heartbeat and the love that surrounds them. Always. He knows it sounds cheesy but there’s no denying that it’s all a little magical.

[moczothe1st]

Let’s Play Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War, Part 30: Man, oh Man, oh Manfroy

Part 29

Welcome back to Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War.  Last week, we fought off like six armies all at once, and it was miserable, but on the plus side Hilda died. I think every game would be better if Hilda died.  This week, we finish taking her castle and… *sigh* And we regret it, probably.  This week, we start off mid-turn, so after moving most of my southern front up north toward the action, I end my turn and let the remainder of Hilda’s dorks take their shot.

… Why couldn’t they have gone down that easy last week, huh?!

Now, on our turn, the enemy is down to four dark mages with staves, and one dark bishop with a siege tome in the castle. I have Fee cut down one of the former…

And have Larcei and Seliph talk about love, because honestly I’m actually in no big hurry to finish this castle.

Larcei: I’m coming with you on this one!

Seliph: Of course you’re welcome to… but why?

Larcei: It’s odd… I’m actually a little scared…

Seliph: Odd indeed! If there’s one thing you’ve never been known for, it’s fear.

Larcei: It’s… I just…

Seliph: Shhh. I understand. Now come! After all, what could ever inspire courage quite like having you at my side.

(… Damn, Seliph, smooth like silk. You win a little more of my respect, bro.)

Larcei: Seliph…

This conversation gives Seliph +1 to his Strength; it was apparently supposed to be +3, but he was actually only one point away from his (oddly low) cap. Apparently Seliph only has a natural 25 strength cap! That seems weird considering his descent from Sigurd the Humungous.

And… sigh. Guess I should kill the stupid boss.

All right. Nothing left but sleep staves, and they can’t really hurt us. I have Fee and Altena purge them.

And now we have the problem dealt with. A little jumping around before I set off the next story segment; I have Finn zapped home, where he repairs and sells his Brave Lance. I’m going to have Fee buy it after we take Freege.  Sorry, Finn, but you’re kind of just not holding up; you lasted longer than I expected you too, but despite being decent on offense you’re just kind of fragile.  Oifey will also be benched here, I think, he can stay to defend Freege castle after we take it.  Thankfully…

… The game is polite enough to tell us where the next part of the chapter will be coming from. So I do spend a turn or two moving the kids up to this gate and ready to rock. Seliph?

Seliph: But I can’t help but wonder… are the children at Belhalla still unharmed? I pray they are…

Lewyn: Funny you should say that!

(That’s not really the appropriate response to dying children.)

Lewyn: We’ve got a visitor who’s got a bit of news on that front, Seliph.

(“I’ve seen… terrible things. Thank the gods I have no sister, for I fear I would never be able to look her in the eyes again.”)

Felipe: On secret orders from His Majesty, the abducted children were moved here to Freege for safe-keeping.

(Orders so secret that we never actually got to see Arvis give them in that whole scene where he was desperately trying to save all the children at Chalphy and failing, being immediately caught, and then getting cowed into submission by a man infinitely less powerful than himself. STOP TRYING TO MAKE ME FEEL BAD FOR ARVIS, GAME.)

Felipe: Rest easy, sire. They’re all hiding in the city’s abbey, and they’re all in good health.

Seliph: And all under Hilda’s nose, at that! That you’ve kept every last child safe in Hilda’s own city… color me impressed!

Felipe: Actually, sire… Princess Ishtar deserves your thanks. Without her generous aid given in secret, we could never have done this. No Imperial soldiers dared come even close to the abbey, on pain of the princess’s wrath.

Seliph: Princess Ishtar?! But why… why would she-

Felipe: Few people in this land are as kind and caring as Princess Ishtar.  

FEW PEOPLE IN THIS LAND ARE AS KIND AND CARING AS PRINCESS ISHTAR.

YEAH SHE’S A FUCKIN’ TREASURE.

Felipe: All along, the princess has toiled behind the scenes to aid our cause.  It was Princess Ishtar herself who ensured that every last child escaped from the bowels of Belhalla.

(“Then… how comes she’s… you know… literally banging the Devil?” “Technically he’s a ghost dragon.”)

Seliph: I see… at any rate, thank the gods for their safety. I’m certain everyone will be glad to know the children are in good hands. You have my deepest thanks, Lord Felipe.

Lewyn: Well, Seliph, that’s one job done. Good to see we’re finally getting results out of this mess.

(Hey, screw you man, I’ve conquered three quarters of the country.)

Seliph: And yet, Julia still eluds us… where could she possibly be?

Lewyn: The only options left now are Belhalla and Velthomer. It’s got to be one of those two.

Seliph: And Belhalla is where Julius awaits…

Lewyn: Yeah. We’ll need to find Julia first if we want to go anywhere near Belhalla. Without Julia’s power on our side, we won’t have a hope in hell against Julius.

(Again, not technically true, but you really should listen to him on this one.)

Seliph: But no matter what’s happened, Julius is still her brother. Will she even want to fight him…

Lewyn: … You’ll have to convince her.

(I mean, you’ve met Julius. It won’t be super hard.)

Ishtar: This will require that I leave your side, even for a while. I beg your forgiveness.

Julius: Feh.

Julius: Why the rush to get out there so suddenly, Ishtar? All the soldiers they could ever throw at us could never so much as scratch me. Why even bother with those maggots?

Ishtar: Yes, I know… but for me, there is no greater pride than being one of Freege’s great mages.

(“Saving all those children? Doesn’t even compare.”)

Ishtar: My parents and brother lie dead, and I cannot stand to leave their murderers to run amok… please. All I ask is a chance for vengeance.

Julius: It sounds as if what you really want is to following your family to death on a rebel’s blade! Are you so desperate to escape me, Ishtar?

Ishtar: No… nothing like that, Lord Julius. I love you. Nothing will ever change that.

Julius: Hmhmhmhmhm… I know.  

Julius: Very well! Fight if you must. I won’t stop you.

Ishtar: Thank you… now, I beg your pardon. Meng! Bleg! Mabel! We sortie at once.

(Oh god, we are really scraping the bottom of the name barrel this time. ‘Meng’?  ‘Bleg’?)

Julius: Now, then. I think it’s time we put an end to this sorry show. Deadlords, move out!  And order Arion’s unit to attack!

(… wait, what?)

So. You may recall I told you to remember this moment.

It was important for two reasons.

First: This is the moment the war becomes winnable. You see, Manfroy is not… really all that into Loptyr. Oh, he worships him, but it’s not really about loyalty so much as sadism. Manfroy hates the world, and every single human being in it. His overall goal in life is nothing more or less than to make humanity suffer as much as possible. But he’s generally pragmatic about it. He knew the best way to hurt humanity was to revive Loptyr, who possesses incredible powers and views humans as little better than food to eat and pets to abuse. This moment, right here, is the moment that Manfroy, flush with overconfidence in the presence of his god on earth and having enjoyed a long decade and a half tormenting the entire continent, finally makes a mistake. He lets his sadism overpower his common sense for the first time. And in so doing, he gives us a real shot.

Second: Because he’s still Manfroy, he’s a total fuckwad about it.  

Remember Ayra? Waaaaaaaaay back in Verdane, remember how we recruited Ayra. How we had to get to a castle to turn her non-hostile to us, only she was between the army and the castle and she was trying to kill us the whole time?

Yeah, that’s happening again. Only it’s Julia, our lil’ atomic vampire gatling gun trying to kill us. Of course she’s just as strong as she was when she was on our side, why would you even ask.  Oh, and just for fun…

Here’s the map of what we need to achieve.  The blue X is where we are. The red X is where we need to get to save Julia.  The ravenous piranha is Ishtar’s army, waiting to pounce upon us and tear us limb from bloody limb.  And to her right, marked by the douche, is Julius. You don’t have to fight him, and you in fact definitely should not because getting anywhere near him will also draw the Deadlords out to fight you, but of course has a siege tome now and will cheerfully wreck the shit of anyone who gets anywhere near him, therefore heavily limiting the space we have to move.

And of course, Julia will be trying to kill us the whole time, and we can’t fight back and risk killing her.

And hahaha, yeah, Arion will be showing up soon.  

This is not going to be any fun, is what I’m getting at here.

First thing’s first, let’s take a look at our piranha.  

Ishtar has taken yet another level in badass; her magic has gone up two points, skill by three, luck by 2, defense by eight, and resistance by one. And this time, she’s got an actual army with her instead of fighting us alone; three Snipers, three Heroes, three Sages, three High Priests with Fortify (of course) staves, and of course…. *snerk*…. Bleg, Meng, and Mabel.

They’re three identical Falcon Knights, both in picture and stats, so I’ll only be showing one of them. Despite the intensely crappy names, they honestly three ridiculously dangerous units. They all have Earth Swords, meaning any hit they land is going to heal them, and they’ll be hitting often what with that maxed-out Speed and solid 23 skill. And to make things worse, they all have the Nihil ability to prevent us from just shooting them down with arrows or relying on Astra to solve our problems.  

So! This is going to suck. A lot. But thanks to Ced being awesome, there’s an option I can take to make this a lot more manageable.  Lana sells her Silence staff, and he buys it…

And with his 35 fucking magic he can overpower Ishtar’s 32 Resistance to Silence her up to three times, basically removing Mjolnir from the equation for this battle. And Mjolnir is like… half of this battle’s equation.

I literally cannot believe I’ve never tried this before.  From here, the army moves forward, Seliph leading the way; he’ll be attacked by quite a lot of people here, but he’s a living iron wall of destruction, and the more of these people I can lure away from the main melee, the better.  So. End turn!

(*sigh* Must you, now?)

Arion: Chalphy’s fall to our blades shall be the first step to winning back our fatherland. Now, move in! Show these liberators one final defiance from the drackoknights of Thracia!

A solid enough start! We hurt one Falcon Knight, and didn’t take much damage in return.  And now that Ishtar is in range…  

Oh, that is delicious.  Now, my first goal here is to kill at least one of these three annoyingly fast pega-bitches, but I also have to get Altena (and yes it has to be her, of course it has to be her) down to the castle to intercept Arion.  I hate everything forever.

One down!  Let’s keep this train rolling and clear out some more jerks.

Two out of three ain’t bad!

Okay, I think that’s about all the damage I’m going to get done this turn.  And not bad at all, frankly, so I’m happy.  I have Lene dance Altena, and warp her home with Lana.

Ignore the pentagram. It’s a good pentagram. Down at the bottom, Altena equips Gae Bolg and flies to just outside Arion’s range. The rest of his buddies don’t matter at all, but I don’t want her to fight him. There’s a reason for this, of course. It’s unsatisfying, but it makes her happy.

The things I do for my kids, I swear.

End turn.  

… Huh. They don’t attack her? Or maybe they can’t damage her. I honestly am not sure.

*sniff*

I remember the last time I played this map.

I died five times on this battle alone.

And now it’s going better than the fight against the fucking Beige Knights.

I don’t understand what’s going on.

Altena: How could you be so craven?! How dare you place your vanity and pride over what truly matters!

(You tell him, honey!)

Arion: What do you want from me, then?

(God, don’t ask her that. This LP is not rated Adults Only.)

Altena: Take a good, hard look at Prince Seliph! Ask yourself, this: why is he still fighting? For whom is he out here day after day, setting his own suffering to the side?

Arion: So Seliph fights for justice, and I somehow do not? Is that what you’re trying to say?

(…. YES!)

Altena: Very well, Arion… if you won’t see reason, so be it. Come on. Kill me. End this. My… my life is in your hands. I die with no regrets.

Arion: A-Altena… very well. You can rest easy now. I get it. I was wrong… my mercenary days are at an end, and my final task is with Seliph. Wait… no. With you. I now fight for you, Altena.

Altena: Arion…

Yeah, it would have been neat if you’d done this a few maps ago, jackass, but Arion is on our side now. Or, well, sorta. He doesn’t join the army, but his unit becomes neutral and are programmed to stay close to Altena and be hostile to any Belhalla units that get near them. I know we all sort of wanted to kill him, but he still has Gungnir and I really just didn’t want to risk a screwup when things are going so well.  I mean, I’m not even gonna use him. At this point, letting him get near the enemy would likely result in him rushing Julius and dying, which sorta defeats the point. Let’s just end this; time to wipe out the remains of Ishtar’s unit.

And now, a special treat. Since Ishtar can’t fight, we get to see a conversation that even I have never actually seen.

(…. ‘Nothing but kind’.)

(Just sayin’.)

Ishtar: … I may be in the wrong. But I can’t turn back now. Forgive me, Tinni… please….

And thus passes Princess Ishtar of Freege. She died as she lived: getting nuked by her cousins. And without her leadership stars…

All right. Now, the rest of the army is going to stay right where they fucking are. Julia cannot be trusted to not kill herself, or more troublesome to not kill me.  The only people going forward are Seliph and Ares, who are going to go north across the forest, out of Julius’s range, and try to lure Julia into following them. Their resistance is tremendous, and they’re both on horses. Ideally she’ll try to kill them, fail, and be following them and unable to catch up until I can free her. This will take a few turns of nothing but movement because I will not be going anywhere near Julius.

Trust me.

She seeeeeeeeeees uuuuuuuuuuussssss…

Okay. There’s two things that could happen here. She’s either going to go east and cut us off, in which case we’ll be dodging vampire lasers the rest of the map, or she’s going to go north through the forest and we basically win the game.  Let’s see!

…. Bitch. Okay, straight west you guys! Hide on the healing church, you beautiful bastards. God, haven’t used one of those in awhile, with those fifty healers in the army lining up to zap everyone with staves.

Dammit, Loptyrians, I am trying to flee in terror from a small woman.

Okay. We can do this. Ares heals up, and all we have to do is clear out those priests and kill Manfroy. Go get ‘em, boys!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Are you fucking kidding me.  

Of all the.

That.

I.

I.

You.

HOW.

What the!

NO.

………………

Well. You know all those times when I was questioning my good fortune? The moments where I was like ‘oh, man, I don’t trust how generous the game is being, bet it’s gonna screw me later!’ Well, that just happened.

*sigh*

End turn. If I survive this, I will be genuinely stunned.

Oh hey it’s as though the Hel tome is really easy to dodge and you should have dodged it all along. But here we go…

(How do you know that’s Manfroy? You’ve never met him…)

Manfroy: So I did. And so long as I live, my puppet she shall remain! Hehehehehe!  She’s every bit as helpless before my magic as her mother was…

Seliph: I should have known. If not for you, Mother… Gah! All of this misery… all these agonizing years… It was all your doing from the outset!

Manfroy: Heh… of course. Everything I’ve done has led to this moment: the revival of my lord Loptyr. And at last, it is so! Loptyr’s advent in the form of Prince Julius is complete, and darkness shall soon engulf the world. You cannot prevent it. Nobody can…

Seliph: Manfroy, you… Father’s grief… Mother’s despair… if not for you and your foul ambitions, none of this would have ever happened… Damn you, Manfroy! I cannot allow you to win! I will not! You’ll NEVER know mercy for your crimes!

Yeah, not the dramatic win I was hoping for after that great speech. But I guess I saw that coming.  Reset! I start off a little differently; Seliph and Ares park themselves on trees. With the 20% dodge bonus, they should have no chance of being hit by Hel, and very little of being hit by Julia. We need to clear out these Dark Mages before we go for Manfroy.

Better! This repeats for all of them; one actually dies because they’re forced to attack at close-range thanks to being blocked off by their own buddies, which is great.

Yeah, yeah.

He only does one damage. Seliph could have survived him with no problem in any other situation. I hate this game sometimes. On our turn, I have Ares and Seliph each clear out a mage…

Then immediately go hide in the woods again. I am playing this as cautious as humanly possible, honestly. Better to spend three turns killing mages than let the reset counter jump up above the number of updates.

The enemy misses again on their turn, because they literally can’t not miss. Two more deaths…

All right! That’s that for dark mages. On the next turn, Ares is going to park his butt on the healing church forever, and Seliph goes to fight Manfroy.

You stay out of this.

Now then. It’s time. It’s time to face Manfroy himself.  In direct combat. The enemy behind it all! The dark schemer who has given over our kingdom to the dark god.  And he…

Is a loser.  I mean, he’s not the worst enemy in the game. He’s okay. But he’s definitely no match for Arvis, or Ishtar, or… anyone with a holy weapon, really.  Which fits, really; his danger is his skill and intellect, not his power.  But considering he’s basically the final boss, it’s a little sad, still.

Seliph. Teach him some manners, bro.

And with two shots, he’s down to six HP.  End turn.

I miss the days when I was the one with the Julia Beams.

*sniff*

God. That is just cathartic to do. Now. With Manfroy off to Hell, where I’m assuming he will meet Hilda and strike up a whirlwind love affair, Seliph can take the castle.

Lewyn: That’s right, isn’t it Felipe?

Felipe: My liege concealed the key within his most treasured memento…. The circlet once worn by Empress Deirdre.

(HURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK!)

Felipe: If we can find that circlet, sir, the Book of Naga is yours.

Lewyn: Deirdre’s circlet…

And that’s that! Ares runs toward the castle, with intent to lure Julia toward us. Of course she’s still hostile, why are you even asking? She has to talk to Seliph to get back to our side. Tee-hee, Fire Emblem hates you.

God, you are just like your mother. Seliph, go fix this please.

Seliph: It was Manfroy’s dark arts. He brainwashed you into his service.

Julia: Manfroy… that’s right, he caught me…

Seliph: Thank goodness you’re safe.  

Julia: Lord Seliph, I…

Seliph: It’s fine, Julia. I know. Lewyn told me everything. I’m sorry… I failed to protect you.

Julia: No… it’s fine. Don’t worry, Seliph. I finally know why I’ve survived for all these years. I know my fate… I’m fated to fight. I’ll never run away again!

Seliph: You’re right… This is the will of fate, tragic as it is. None can afford to cower or flee now. Until the bitter end, we must march on.

And with that, Julia rejoins the team. She’s just as strong as ever, barring one fact; she’s picked up Deirdre’s circlet, adding Renewal and Miracle to her list of abilities, which is a heck of an upgrade.

But not as good as the one she gets from reaching Velthomer.

Lewyn: It worked… it really worked! And there it is, the Book of Naga! It’s yours for the taking, Julia!

Julia: … Oh! How strange… it feels so warm. It’s almost as if I’ve known this book all my life…

And now, the game is over. See, here’s the thing… Julius is just as dangerous as before, if not slightly moreso. His stats are slightly lower than his first appearance where you are very clearly not meant to fight him, but he still has Loptyr’s game-breaking effect, and his ability list is now Wrath, Pursuit, Nihil, and Accost. So he can double most of our army, null critical hits and combat abilities, and gets a huge critical boost when his health drops below half. And of course, he’s on a castle and gets the defense bonus and health regeneration that gives. Basically, he’s borderline invincible. The only real option if you lose Julia is to have Seliph fight him, and poor Seliph can only do about 15 damage per turn (if he hits) some of which will then be healed.  While getting blasted in the face repeatedly, so you’ll need to get someone in to heal him between rounds, and they’ll very probably die to having Meteors dropped on their head unless you’re very lucky. And then there’s the Deadlords, who are just a pain.  

But if you do have Julia…

Yeah.

YEEEEEEEEEAH.  

Naga is the best weapon in the game. +20 each to Skill, Speed, Defense, and Resistance, instantly turns Julia into a hyper-fast, hyper-accurate, hyper-durable killing machine. And as a light magic tome, it has no disadvantage to any kind of weapon. And, of course, it negates Loptyr’s half-damage effect.  Your reward for the most annoying recruitment in the game is the weapon that ends the game. Big time.

So.  

It’s time to lay back and let Big J play us out, I think. I have her do the Arena, just for old times sake. Nothing even touches her.

Julia: Seven wins, gained two levels. +2 HP, +1 Speed.

About as good as can be expected at this point, honestly. And it…. Doesn’t really matter, you know? She heads to Belhalla, and Julius has no chance to hit her with Meteor, so he doesn’t even try.  The Twelve Deadlords rush up to meet her, of course…

They’re going to regret this. The Deadlords are named for the animals of the Chinese Zodiac, and each one has a different class and some very good weapons and abilities. They’re a dangerous group! Usually.  

One down, eleven to go. End turn.  

And then there were nine.

Sorry, seven.

Six of one, half-dozen of the other.

Fun fact, ‘Lepus’ means ‘Rabbit’. And ‘Dead’.

Well I’ll be! Someone landed a hit!  Too bad Julia did too. Four to go.  

I’m so bad at counting! It’s actually three. Congrats to Equus the Bishop on surviving a round with The Julinator.  But with that, none of the remaining Deadlords will actually take a shot at Julia anymore, so I’m just going to ignore them. It’s time for a family reunion.

(He isn’t wrong.)

Yes, that was a single round of combat. Julius procced his Accost skill and made the fight last an extra round. This… was not helpful to him.

Julius vanishes, the spirit of the dragon arising from the castle as the entire map shakes…

But it’s just bluster. Naga’s power has destroyed Loptyr’s vessel, and with its bloodline finally ended the dragon’s grip on this world is gone. Loptyr returns to whatever void it came from, and with the power that animated them gone, the few surviving Deadlords vanish.  

I’m going to cut out here, but no sense waiting a week, huh? So see you tomorrow for the epilogue, kids. I think we earned it.

Final Reset Total: 30.  Y... yay.

Epilogue

[postedbygaslight]

You’ll Be the One to Turn - Part 22: Kylo

Someone on AO3 asked, joking, if there would be another chapter today, because I posted the other one early. I sent a cheerfully nihilistic response, thinking it was true madness to suggest such a thing. And then I actually did finish the next chapter, so, I guess, enjoy. :)

The past had died.

Or part of it had. The part laced through with venom and pretensions to legacy. The months since he’d tracked Lor San Tekka to the enclave on Jakku had seen the collapse of his foundations. One by one, what he’d once viewed as essential pillars of what it meant to be Kylo Ren had been smashed apart, and most of it had been done by his own hand. The murder of his father, which had exposed Snoke for the pestilence he was. His inability to harm his mother, which had reminded him of what it was to love and be loved. His defiance in saving Rey from death, which freed him from the yoke of his decrepit master. Because the bastard would not have her, too.

But there had been nothing that had ever approached what happened the night before. And as Kylo sits in the chair in his meditation chamber, letting his mind settle on the memories of what were, he is visited by the stark collision of feeling that assaults him: revulsion at what he’d witnessed; adoration for the woman who’d been there to catch him as he fell.

He’d been certain Rey was mistaken about the cure for her issue with the kyber crystal. But, in the moment just before their two halves touched, his mind had cleared, and he could feel the Force anchored in the crystal halves aching to rejoin what had been broken. And the vision that had dragged him away from her had seized upon him with such mirthless intensity he’d been sure that he would be drawn into the morass of bitter cruelty into which he’d fallen, abandoned to suffocation. What he had seen was a gift from the Force. Like the vision he’d seen on Ahch-To, he knew what he’d seen was the perfect truth of the past, unadorned by the decay of memory. It was a vision of death and horror, a view of the slow erosion of humanity inside a husk that was once a good man.

Kylo sits across from the mask of Darth Vader, infected by the sensations that linger from his vision. When he’d first realized whose life he was seeing, his reaction was one of disbelief, even though he knew the Force had merely been showing him what it was to be Anakin Skywalker in that time and place. He had spent so long elevating the deeds and accomplishments of the mask on display that he never stopped to consider the man beneath it. Now, having lived in the bone strewn furnace of Anakin’s mind and soul as he transformed into a deformity of spirit, the mask has adopted a different shape: a blot of darkness accented by the scorching threat of revenge.

Kylo accepts now that his grandfather had been fooled and seduced by the poisons of a man not unlike Snoke. He could sense the miasma of toxins pluming around Palpatine the moment he’d commanded Anakin to murder his prisoner in the throne room. But the monster on the throne had only represented the path to darkness. Anakin had chosen, one fateful decision after another, to stride confidently into shadow. And Kylo knows, just as he knows he will walk under this plague shroud no longer, that were he confronted with the same choices, he would not have fallen to the depths that claimed his grandfather.

Thinking of it sends a crawl of cold slime retching in his throat. Watching as Anakin cleaved and stabbed smoking plasma wounds into the flesh of terrified children. Watching as Anakin stalked and thrilled in the slaughter of those who’d welcomed him as an ally. Watching as Anakin Skywalker ignored the frightened pleas of the woman he claimed to love, reveling in his fury as he choked her into submission.

Grandmother. Padmé Amidala. A queen. A senator. A woman of pride and accomplishment. Laid low and murdered. By the man who’d sold his soul in the vain quest to shelter her from death. How her strength had reminded him of Rey. How he’d wanted to shatter the illusion of the vision, wrest control of the man whose actions had doomed her to a miserable end, and cause him to fall on his saber blade, or to attack Palpatine, or to cast himself into the lava flow at Mustafar. She had deserved better than the death she suffered, and the injustice of it screams in his soul as he imagines himself confronted with the visions that afflicted Anakin.

He can sense Rey now stronger than ever, and it’s present in her strength and her calm, her essential goodness, the grace and beauty of her bearing. The glow of her light now resides within him. The constant lantern at his side has now become a comforting warmth that swells in his chest. And where there had once been an emptiness suffused with doubt, he is now bolstered with courage, raised up by the foundation of her resolve. He is finished with this pointless charade. His place is with her. He’s known it for a long time, and only now has he clarity enough to recognize it.

As the comm at his private terminal starts sounding an alert, Kylo accepts that the events ahead will carry him forward to the destiny he is meant to find. And ceding control to whatever cosmic power brought he and Rey together has freed him to do what he could not before. It isn’t too late. And he knows what he has to do. He stands up, taking the mask in his hands, and places it in his waste disposal unit. Without ceremony or pause, he closes the lock, pulls the release, and walks away, not even bothering to watch as its contents are ejected into the void of space.

***

The war room aboard the Finalizer is much like those in other First Order warships: a long black table ringed with high backed chairs, flanked by banks of windows that amount to viewing platforms for the entire vessel. The table, fitted with inset holo-projectors, stretches the length of the room, and is now populated by severe men in black officers’ uniforms, all waiting on the arrival of high command.

Kylo strides into the room, taking stock of the emotions of the officers. Fear is high, and there are surges of confusion and anxiety as his presence is acknowledged. But, rather than use the Force to amplify their unease, Kylo makes a simple gesture before being seated, and everyone else follows suit.

“Supreme Leader,” General Hux salutes.

“What’s the situation?” Kylo asks without looking at him.

A display of the Tarisian star system springs up above the table, and the zoom function of the projector zeroes in on the third planet from the star, a tawny orange ball spiderwebbed with artificial lights. Kylo was well aware of Taris, as it had long existed as one of the most densely populated planets in the entire galaxy. Some even said its  colossal cities existed before Coruscant’s, but such were tales left to legend. The boutiques and salons of the upper cities didn’t concern him. The matter at hand, he knows, will be decided in the mangled collapse of concrete and steel that exists on the surface.

“The Star Destroyer Volition followed up on intelligence we received several days ago about a possible Resistance presence on Taris.”

“I’m guessing that presence is below the smog line.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Hux continues. “We’ve learned that there is a munitions cache of some considerable size housed in a facility beneath a derelict rail terminal.”

“What kind of munitions?”

“Small arms, though it seems they are of the rarer sort.”

“Meaning?”

“Ion disruptor rifles.”

Kylo stops a moment. He is unused to being genuinely surprised by anything. But this is a true shock.

“T-7’s?”

“And a few T-8’s, so far as we’ve been able to tell,” a lower ranking general chimes in.

“You’re sure this is Resistance,” Kylo presses. “Collecting weapons that were outlawed by the Empire.”

“Desperation will drive even the noblest men to questionable means for their ends,” Hux opines, and is met with nods of approval.

“If the Force is with us, who can be against us, eh?” The voice was from another ranking officer on the other side of the table. The quip elicits some choked and guarded laughter as everyone else waits for Kylo to react. And while his eyes do dart to the smug officer, whose face has drained of blood, he stays his hand, and continues on.

“Tell me about the facility.”

Hux clears his throat and continues the presentation.

“It appears to be a two-level subterranean compound with a main entrance here, and an escape tunnel here. The area has been shielded, and will withstand orbital bombardment.”

“Of course. Where’s our landing?”

“This airdrome tower seems ideal,” Captain Eskat, of the Volition, adds, his image beamed in from the bridge of his vessel. “Multiple landing pads. A variety of insertion points into the combat zone.”

“Good,” Kylo says, folding his gloved hands in front of him. “Anything else?”

“The weapons are reportedly kept in this bunker here,” Hux says, adding what Kylo interprets as a proposed course of action. “Apart from the principle of the matter, Supreme Leader, these weapons are valuable and rare commodities.”

Kylo turns slowly to face the general. He does nothing to disguise his contempt for the man. He can sense Hux’s fear like never before, a glacial contortion of terror and cowardice twisted inside this small, tired despot.

“Want one for your personal collection, Hux? Planning a disintegration or two?”

“While I’m told the experience of watching death by ion disruption is singular,” Hux says with a snide grin, “I understand the smell it produces is less than desirable.”

The thought is repellent. Kylo had never seen a disintegration before, and he’d never sought one out. Ion disruptors were among the most vicious infantry weapons in existence, capable of downing spacefaring craft with a single bolt from a shoulder fired rifle. But, beyond that, the mechanism inherent in the disruption field produced by the bolts caused living tissue to slough away with a relatively gradual outward spread. That meant a target struck with a disruptor blast would be killed, but would experience an excruciating death by melting over the course of minutes.

Hux’s obvious enthusiasm for securing the weapons distracts Kylo for a moment or two, and he combats the urge to lash out at the general, just as he’s still resisting the urge to punish the officer on the other side of the room for denigrating the Force. But the warmth within him brings him back to a place of calm, and he presses on.

“Have we intercepted any Resistance response?”

“We’ve received actionable reports of an extraction operation already underway. We expect enemy units to be in the vicinity within thirty minutes.”

“And?”

“They’re being led by the girl.”

“The Jedi.”

“I assume.”

Kylo knows now what this is. A trap. For both of them. And he knows, just as he knows that Hux will spring to betray him as soon as he steps foot off of the ship, that he’s been outmaneuvered. For the time being. What’s important now is springing the trap, and smashing it apart.

Kylo stands from his chair. Everyone in attendance does the same.

“If they aren’t already, muster the troops in the main hangar. Infiltration units. No heavy weaponry. I’ll lead the mission myself.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

As he turns to leave the room, Hux positions himself in his path.

“Supreme Leader, allow me to apologize for yesterday’s impudence. I trust exacting vengeance against this criminal will set things right.”

“I’m not interested in whatever it is you’re planning or doing,” Kylo says through his teeth, drawing to full height. “And I’m not at all interested in your apologies.”

The fear that had twisted within Hux explodes outward in an icy blast, and Kylo wants to punish him for what he’s done. He wants to punish him for what he’s going to do. But, most of all, Kylo wants to hurt General Hux. To make him suffer. For arranging this ruse. For aspiring to power he is unworthy to wield. And most of all, he wants to hurt him for putting Rey in harm’s way, and using that as bait to try to seize a throne for himself.

“It won’t happen again,” Hux stammers.

Kylo steps toward Hux, his eyes dark and burning with rage.

“See that it doesn’t.”

And Kylo can feel the fear, so potent and sharp in the general’s heart, harden to pure hatred as he makes his way for the lift, en route to the main hangar.

***

Kylo stands at the head of the company of stormtroopers and reviews them in formation, ready to board transports. He makes his comments brief.

“Once we hit the ground, fan out. Eliminate any enemy targets you encounter,” he says, calmly, with deliberation. And then his tone hardens, and each word is a knife, meant to cut each and every man present in the room. “But the girl is mine. Anyone who brings her to harm will answer to me.”

The troops salute and file into the waiting vessels. Kylo boards his command shuttle and orders the pilots to make for planetfall.

He still feels the warmth and comfort he felt from before. Even as he knows he’s walking into a trap. Even as he knows that Hux is waiting to betray him. Even as he’s descending into a wrecked and blighted war zone, knowing that somewhere down there, Rey is in danger. Because he can feel her the moment his command shuttle breaks atmosphere. And he is made strong by her strength. And he knows that whatever light remains in him is greater than just an ember as the blue-black of the starfield above dips out of sight, and the windshield of the cockpit is swallowed in a haze of gold and brown.

[kenzieam]

Lost Girl - Chapter 6 (Eric and Fox)

Rating: M (swearing, violence, smut, blah blah)

Genre: Drama/Angst

******TRIGGER WARNINGS - mention of TORTURE, ABUSE AND RAPE********

          ERIC GOES DARK AF

Thanks everyone for the re-blogs and support!!! IT IS SO AWESOME!!!

@emmysrandomthoughts @beautifulramblingbrains @iammarylastar @tigpooh67 @bookwarm85  @badassbaker @captstefanbrandt  @treeleaf  @beltz2016  @girlwith100names @gaia25 @readsalot73 @slayer0507 @stone-met @lostinthebeans @lauraaan182 @girlslovestorys  @lacy-love @fuckthatfeeling  @sparklemichele @vitaevandal  @micolegg @frecklefaceb @jaihardy  @bookgirlthings @queenara4  @bluelassbird @mom2reesie @pathybo @letmagichappen @shaunarcanine @equalstrashflavoredtrash @itschibi @elaacreditava @lilu46 @tonyt1995 @jojogoo65 @littlesouthernrebel @sterek-foreverandever @kirstenisntkirsty

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A huge thank you to my beta and Jai-sister @iammarylastar ! Quelle equipe!

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What happens if Fox disappears, and is returned to Eric two years later, but is not the same woman he loves???

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Eric stepped out of the room and grimaced, rolling his shoulders; his muscles were sore and aching. The two factionless in the room he’d just spent hours interrogating were still twitching, but even as Eric turned and looked back over his shoulder at them, the twitches slowed and stopped, the blood already beginning to coagulate on the cell floor. The sharp smell of gunpowder rose in the air, the echoes of the final, fatal gunshots still faintly reverberating down the corridors.

“Get rid of that shit.” He grunted to the waiting soldiers, storming out of the detention wing.

Armed with the location of Reo’s underground lair, Eric stalked to Central Security, barking orders into his phone as he blazed down the corridors.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Move in.” Eric whispered over his comm, rising to his feet and kicking in the cleverly hidden door the now dead factionless captives had revealed to him. In the end, they had both begged for death, just like Eric had promised they would.

They’d divulged everything Eric needed to know and more, and after a few hours spent planning, he’d been ready to attack. Zeke and Uriah were with him, as well as a whole squadron of soldiers. The entire team knew implicitly that Reo was Eric’s, that he was the only one allowed to take him out.

Throwing a half-dozen concussion grenades ahead of them, Eric charged through the smoke before the shockwave had even dissipated, his team on his heels. They had the element of surprise, but Reo’s men recovered quickly and a vicious dogfight began. Eric lost sight of Reo when a bullet tore into his bicep, and he was forced to dive for cover when shrapnel exploded near him, slicing across his forehead. Gradually Eric’s team got the upper hand and by the time Eric called for a cease fire, blood coating one whole side of his face, only a few of the factionless even remained alive. At Eric‘s instruction, they too were executed. A handful of Eric’s team had been injured, but no one seriously, and after a quick inspection, Eric turned his full attention to a bloodied Reo, held securely between the Pedrad brothers.

“Tie him up.” Eric ordered, wiping the blood from his face. He stepped towards Reo, his eyes blazing with hate and fury. This was the man who had hurt his Fox, the man he owed a excruciating, slow death.

Eric leaned down and just stared at Reo for a long, tense moment. Then he pulled a large Bowie knife from his vest and dragged it gently along Reo’s jaw, gazing intently into his eyes. Eric slowly traced the scars along his face, then tilted his head to the side and pressed the blade to Reo’s unmarked cheek. Reo’s chest heaved as he watched Eric warily, trying to keep an eye on both the man and the blade. Suddenly, without a word, without warning, Eric pulled the blade savagely across Reo’s stubbly cheek, opening a wide, gaping Glasgow smile. Reo threw his head back with a howl, trying to twist away, but Eric was eerily silent and self-possessed as he waited for Reo to stop thrashing. Panting, the bound man glared a mix of hatred and fear at the Dauntless leader, and, when Eric drew the blade a second time down his cheek, to complete a large bloody X across his face, Reo shrieked again, struggling ineffectually against his bindings. Eric wiped the blade off on Reo’s shoulder, then straightened, stepping back.

Satisfied, Eric murmured quietly. “Now your face matches.”

Reo sneered, blood darkening his shirt, eyes shifting uneasily from the Dauntless soldiers back to their massive leader standing in front of them, looking like Death himself. He tested the rope he’d been bound with again, but it remained secure and he spat defiantly at Eric’s feet.

“Fuck you.” Reo snarled.

“What do we do with him, Eric?” Zeke growled.

“Oh…. Eric.” Reo grinned painfully, the sliced edges of his mouth pulling and bleeding. He met Eric’s glare, a sick gleam in his eye. “So you’re the one Cass screamed for.”

Eric froze and the entire squadron held their breath, eyes darting nervously to his broad back. The air thickened with tension, Eric’s monster was going to come out to play, and things were going to get even messier. Zeke moved to his side, began speaking lowly.

“He’s lying, she had amnesia, she didn’t remember you then.” Turning his head, he nodded to his brother and the others, signalling them to be ready when Eric exploded.

Reo continued, a sadistic smile on his face, eyes locked on Eric’s, his voice almost conversationally casual, as if commenting on the weather. “She put up a hell of a fight, have to give her that. Had to have my men hold her down the first few times, had to knock her around a bit until she learned who’s boss-”

Eric launched his massive body soundlessly at Reo, but the team was ready and managed to snag him before he attacked. He fought against them, eyes wild.

“You fuck!” He roared, apoplectic with rage. “Let me go!”

Reo wasn’t finished, after all he had nothing to lose, he knew he was dying today regardless; maybe if he pissed Eric off enough he’d kill him quickly. “She was a hot piece of ass, but you already know that, you’ve fucked her too. Did you hit her? She likes that, loves when you make her bleed, loves every hole gettin’ filled. Three or four of us would fuck her at once and she’d just lay there and take it, like the whore she is.”

The team froze in horror and Eric shook them off easily. The rage around him was palatable, thick in the air and no one was inclined to hold him back anymore, many had to fight not to attack Reo themselves.

Reo grinned slowly, a vile expression on his torn face and nodded. “Enjoy her…. I know I did.”

In the blink of an eye Eric pulled his gun, aiming directly for Reo’s head. A low growl started deep in his chest, his eye’s luminous with hatred. Zeke, still beside him, could actually feel the internal struggle as he fought with himself. The Erudite in Eric recognized that Reo was trying to bait him, while the Dauntless in him screamed to punish the miserable fuck. He closed the distance between them again, pressed the barrel to Reo’s forehead. Pulling away again Eric snarled in frustration, pressing the heels of hands into his eyes, his jaw clenched, teeth gritted as he fought not to pull the trigger.

Reo smirked. “She cried, she begged me to stop and that just made it all the sweeter as I fucked her. Choked her, bit her ‘till she bled. Climbed off and had one of my guys keep her warm for me ‘till I was ready again. Yeah…. we had a good time, your bitch and me.”

Eric roared in rage and whipped Reo across the face with his gun. The bound man groaned and slumped over as Eric stood over him, panting, fists flexing. Reo started to laugh, a horrible gurgling sound that bubbled blood past his lips and down his chin. He lifted his head again, looked at Eric with bloodshot eyes.

“Nothing better than hearing them scream while you pound them-”

Eric pointed the gun at Reo’s head and pulled the trigger. Zeke jumped as the gun fired rapidly, Eric emptying the clip, screaming, until the pistol clicked. Reo shook in terror, eyes wide, half-deaf. The bullets had brushed his hair, a warning only. Eric leapt forward, shoving the smoking barrel into the gaping wound on Reo’s cheek and the bound man screamed as his skin sizzled and snapped.

“DOES THAT HURT?!” Eric screamed, inches from his face, spittle hitting him. “Did she beg for her life, you FUCK?! Did you see the pain in her eyes?!” He snapped another clip into the handgun and pointed it again at Reo’s forehead. The factionless man finally looked scared, skin pale and sweating, eyes huge, finally realizing just what he had been provoking, just what monster he’d unleashed.

“She was my love and you destroyed her. You took my life away from me, you took the only woman I’ve ever loved and you turned her into a shell of who she was.” He hissed, pressing the barrel harder against Reo’s skin. “She’s not here to kill you herself, but I am and I’ll make sure you suffer to your last fucking breath, make sure you suffer like she did. You’ll be begging me for mercy and I’ll give you the same compassion you gave her. You’ll beg me to die before I’m done with you. But Fox still lives and she will recover and I will be there for her when she comes back to me. You tried to destroy us and you couldn’t. She’s mine, no one hurts her. NO ONE touches her!” The gun shook slightly as Eric fought to control himself. Zeke held his breath, waiting.

Slowly Eric lowered the gun, and glanced at Zeke. “Anyone else down here?”

Zeke shook his head, “no, we searched, it’s clear.”

Eric nodded, then turned his attention back to Reo, locked eyes with him again. “Leave us alone.”

Reo’s eyes went wide as he realized what Eric had just said. He pulled at the ropes holding him, panic beginning to bleed into his eyes.

“Eric?” Zeke began.

“LEAVE US ALONE!” Eric snarled, whipping a devastating glare over his shoulder.

Zeke nodded and jerked his chin at the men. Silently they filtered out.

“Hey!” Reo yelled, watching in horror as he was left alone with Eric, an angel of vengeance straight from hell, standing in front of him still.

Eric favoured him with a small, knowing smile and nodded once.

The team shuffled nervously outside while Zeke stood closest to the door, arms crossed over his chest. He heard Reo begin to scream.

“HEY! Wait! WAIT! No, don’t…. don’t! NNNNNOOOOO!!!!”

A vicious thudding, then a horrible wet tearing sound reached Zeke’s ears and he turned away. He had no desire to know what was going on in there. He almost felt pity for the factionless bastard. Reo’s screams peaked into a shriek of agony and Zeke turned away, walked back to his men.

They shuffled nervously, waiting, still hearing Reo’s screams and howls, thumping and slamming sounds, Eric’s animalistic snarls and roars. It was like they were listening at the doorway to hell.

Finally, Eric appeared at the doorway, his eyes blazing. Behind him, Reo still weakly cried out. Eric held a large bottle of liquor in his hand. He took a large gulp and toasted the whimpering man.

“Cheers motherfucker.” Eric spat.

Zeke watched in dawning horror as he stuffed a rag in the neck, lit it and threw the bottle inside. Zeke heard it shatter and Reo’s screams again sharpened, reaching new heights of suffering.

“BURN IN HELL!” Eric screamed into the inferno.

Fire rose like a glimpse into hell and, as Eric stalked towards the team, flames exploded out of the structure. The team jumped back, heat slapping their faces, but Eric appeared unaffected. He was at home right now, lurking in these hellish shadows, his monster was content.

Reo’s shouts, still audible over the fire’s roar became wordless animal screams.

Zeke glanced at his leader. Eric no longer resembled a man, at least not a sane one. Blood coated his face, and Zeke knew without a doubt that it wasn’t his own. Eric’s knuckles were swollen and bleeding, his jacket splashed with chunks of something red and glistening. Zeke’s heart thumped as he focussed on Eric’s square jaw line, and he saw with sick fascination bits of skin and tissue clinging to his bloodied skin. Eric glanced at Zeke and nodded once, sadistic satisfaction in his eyes.

Eric crossed his arms over his massive chest and watched the flames calmly until the sweet sounds of Reo’s screams finally stopped.

[fae-fucker]

Throne of Glass: Chapter 47-49

Chapter 47 

The chapter opens with Kaltain, who’s waiting for the final duels to start.

It was strange to think of this woman as an assassin, but seeing her now, all of her oddities and faults made sense.

And what in-universe flaws and oddities are those? Go on, I’ll wait. Actually, I won’t, because I want this hell to end. Kaltain doesn’t really know Sardines at all, and they dislike each other because they want the same man (but for different reasons). 

This book is just so feminist!

Kaltain poisons the wine that Sardines is supposed to drink and we’re back with Sardines.

Kaltain stood behind Perrington, wearing a beautiful red cloak lined with white fur. Their eyes met, and Celaena wondered why the woman smiled at her.

FEMINISM. 

Everyone stands around and the entire chapter is just about people standing around, waiting for the duels to start. Riveting. I guess this is supposed to build tension for the climax? Ain’t workin’ too well.

For a heartbeat, she saw the king with stark clarity. He was just a man—a man with too much power. And in that one heartbeat, she didn’t fear him. I will not be afraid, she vowed, wrapping the familiar words around her heart.

Yeah those familiar words that she supposedly repeats to herself ... She’d done it what, once? Twice? 

Doesn’t mean shit.

The king babbles on about some rules and how they’re not allowed o kill each other, for some reason. Cain and Renault go first.

Across the ring, Grave smiled at her as he wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. She bit down on her grimace at the sight of his teeth. Of course, she’d have to duel the grotesque one. At least Renault had been clean looking.

W-what? What does ... What does that have to do with anything? What the hell?

Sardines has a dirt-fetish confirmed.

Chaol offers her his sword. It’s very symbolic. 

She blinked at the blade, and slowly raised her face to look at him. She found the rolling earthen hills of the north in his eyes. It was a sense of loyalty to his country that went beyond the man seated at the table. Far inside of her, she found a golden chain that bound them together. 

Uh. Sure. 

Jesus Christ, what? What exactly made them friends, aside from the physical attraction? Most of the time they were bickering at each other, and not in a cutesy charming way.

And we gotta make sure the metaphorical chain is gold, because how else would you signify importance if not through arbitrary symbols of wealth?

And obviously, since Chaol and Sardines are both dumbasses and Smaas doesn’t research for shit, it’s not like this sword was probably custom-made and Sardines would have to get used to its size and balance before she could wield it properly, if she could do it at all. But Sardines is a master of every weapon, and all swords, even ornamental ones, are the same, right?

But despite this wanking over how super deep and amazing their friendship is, Mehemia waltzes up to Sardines too and offers her a SUPER SYMBOLIC STAFF.

And ... Just read this:

Nehemia leaned in to whisper in Celaena’s ear. “Let it be with an Eyllwe weapon that you take them down.” Her voice hitched. “Let wood from the forests of Eyllwe defeat steel from Adarlan. Let the King’s Champion be someone who understands how the innocents suffer.”

This is so dumb. Is this supposedly the start of Sardines’s journey to becoming a good person? Color me unimpressed.

She knew what the princess was asking of her. As the King’s Champion, she might find ways to save countless lives—ways to undermine the king’s authority.

N-no. Smaas. Honey. This isn’t how that works. Sardines isn’t nearly smart enough to do politics, and she’s already expressed disgust for people who are.

How else would she undermine the king’s authority? Being his champion means to fight for him. If she doesn’t do that, he’ll just replace her. She doesn’t actually have any power. She’s just a meat shield, a soldier. 

This is all so fucking dumb. 

“No matter what happens,” she said quietly, “I want to thank you.” Chaol tilted his head to the side. “For what?” Her eyes stung, but she blamed it on the fierce wind and blinked away the dampness. “For making my freedom mean something.”

I sure wish it meant something to the reader, too, because I have no idea what the fuck you’re supposed to be saying here.

Anyway, Cain beats Renault and it’s time for Sardines and Grave to fight. 

Chaol squeezed her hand, his skin warm in the frigid air. “Give him hell,” he said.

So is Christianity a thing in this universe? Or does the concept of hell just exist on its own?

Chapter 48

Sardines beats Grave super easily. As if we expected anything else. 

“How long did that take?” she asked. She found Nehemia beaming at her, and Celaena lifted her staff a little in salute.

“Two minutes.”

She grinned at the captain. She was hardly winded.

[rocking back and forth] The concept of a Mary Sue is inherently misogynistic. The concept of a Mary Sue is inherently misogynistic.  The concept of a Mary Sue is ...

Anyway, Sardines chugs the posioned wine. Some assassin she is for not realizing it’s poison, but whatever. OH BUT IT’S THE POISON SHE COULDN’T IDENTIFY THAT TIME THEY WERE DOING A TEST ON PISONS!!! you screech.

Yeah. Which is even worse. You’d think she’d realize this was a weakness of hers and find out how to deal with it and learn to identify it.

“Out of good faith, and honor to the Great Goddess,” Kaltain said in a dramatic voice. Celaena wanted to punch her. 

Idk what the fuck Kaltain did wrong since she was probably ordered to do this. Ah yes, her mistake was being an ambitious woman who wanted to use the protag’s fake love interest to further her own (very unclear) goals, so her crime is being female and having dreams of rising above her station. What a bitch.

FEMINISM.

“Ready yourselves,” the king ordered. “And begin on my mark.”

Celaena looked to Chaol. Wasn’t she to be allowed a moment to rest?

Lmao the narration just said you were barely winded. Suck it up, princess.

Sardines is getting all dizzy and shit and starts feeling ill. 

Why were things slowing down?

She attacked—faster and faster, stronger and stronger.

I’m getting all kindsa whiplash from this narration.

He knocked aside her blow as if it was nothing, and she retreated while he rose. And that’s when she heard the laugh—soft, feminine, and vicious. Kaltain.

SOFT. FEMININE. VICIOUS. ALL BAD THINGS (unless they’re applied to Sardines when observed through male eyes). 

WHAT A!!! SASSSY!!! STRONK!!! FEMINISTT!!!! CREATURE!!!!!

SMAAS HAS WON FEMINISM!!!

*deep breath*

Cain beats the ever-loving crap out of her and I’m here like a fucking child during Christmas Eve. This is some good shit. This is all I’ve ever wished for.

Doriass is watching this unfold and is super sad. Chaol is watching this unfold and is super sad. 

Cain is taunting Sardines about her dead parents. Her dead royal parents. Ya know. Cuz she’s a princess. But Smaas isn’t merciful enough to drop the charade yet, so Cain doesn’t actually say that.

Cain smashes her head against a wall (yay!) and she start tripping the fuck out.

It was a man, his skin pale and rotting. His eyes burned red, and he pointed at her in a broken, stiff way. His teeth were all sharp and so long they barely fit into his mouth.

FORESHADOWING.

Cain had said things he couldn’t possibly know—he’d seen it in her eyes. And if he knew about her past . . . She whimpered, hating herself for it, and for the tears that began sliding down her face, across the bridge of her nose and onto the floor. It was all over.

So the only reason we were in Chaol’s POV when Cain was taunting her is so that we don’t see Sardines’s flashbacks to her childhood and find out that she’s a princess before we’re “ready”.

Cheap. You’re not that good, Smaas.

Also, I’m incredibly happy over seeing Sardines all beaten and miserable. 

NOT A GOOD THING FOR A PROTAG THAT WE’RE SUPPOSED TO SYMPATHIZE WITH.

Cain smashes her head a second time and she sees a bunch of creepy monsters and it’s all very mysterious. Or would be, if I didn’t know where this was all going and actually cared. 

Cain rips off the Eye of Elena (the amulet that protected her from evil) and ...

They came for her.

Nah.

Chapter 49

We’re back with Dorian, because Smaas loves breaking up the action with pointless POV switches, and he realizes that Sardines has given up and is waiting for Cain to kill her! :’’’((( He doesn’t really ... do anything about it but whatever.

We’re back with Sardines. She’s really fucked up. 

Light and darkness. Life and death. Where do I fit in?

I dunno darlin’ but I’d recommend death in your particular case.

She’d find a way—she could find a way to survive. I will not be afraid. She’d whispered that every morning in Endovier; but what good were those words now?

This must be really riveting for fans of the book. Seeing your intrepid, sassy feminist creature for a heroine being so determined and strong! 

I’m just here hoping reality will somehow break and put me in a world where the book ends with her dying and Smaas going “y’all got trolled” in the epilogue.

But when things look most dire:

But then something extraordinary happened. Doors, doors, doors all burst open. Doors of wood, doors of iron, doors of air and magic. And from another world, Elena swept down, cloaked in golden light. The ancient queen’s hair glittered like a shooting star as she plummeted into Erilea.

Literal. Deus. Ex. Machina. Swoops down from the sky. To save her ass.

“I cannot protect you,” whispered the queen, her skin glowing. Her face was different, too—sharper, more beautiful. Her Fae heritage. “I cannot give you my strength.” She traced her fingers across Celaena’s brow. “But I can remove this poison from your body.”

But you just. Protected her? This is bullshit. And she keeps protecting Sardines, by battling Cain and the evil monsters that threaten Sardines.

(Also, I really love the super dumb and useless “Her Fae heritage” here. Like. Ok. What’s the point of this? Who cares about her heritage? Sardines is dying. Priorities? No? You just love your stupid Fae so goddamn much that you gotta remind us that the Fae Queen is indeed a Fae?)

Elena removes the poison from Sardines’s body and casts a debuff spell on Cain to impose vulnerability to melee attacks from bullshit assassins.

You think I’m trying to be funny, but this literally reads like Smaas played fucking Dragon Age and thought rewriting a cutscene would be a good idea. 

“Stand,” Elena whispered again, and was gone. The world appeared.

Cain was close, not a trace of shadow around him. Celaena lifted the jagged remnant of the staff in her hand. Her gaze cleared.

And so, struggling and shaking, Celaena stood.

How inspiring.

I don’t care.

I hope y’all enjoyed Sardines getting the snot beaten out of her while it lasted. Time to get back to the usual wank.

[heroesoftherepublic-blog]

Close Shave

Nobody was ready for Marcus Considius’s shop to once again be open. Rumours claimed him to be dead and the brutal peace installed by Germanicus on the Aventine allowed an illusion of normalcy to creep in. Most people would prefer to believe that resistance was over and that they could proceed with their miserable lives, trying to rebuilt something of the ruins of their suffering.

A life that included avoiding anything to do with the Considii.

Their status as pariahs did not last long. The olive oil lantern that Marcus lit every night attracted those that had everything taken by remodelling of the Aventine. The word quickly spread among the plebs, the barbershop becoming a site of asylum and focal point for a new sort of resistance. Clients slowly returned, knowing that any dramatic plan would come from between those four walls. Nothing worse than to be caught unaware of a new wave of troubles. 

“I don’t know if I will accept working as a porter at the port.” Declares the first client of the day, an Etrurian refugee just arrived to Rome. A growing group of plebeians sat at the entrance of the barbershop.

“Caecinus, you work as a carrier for how many, five or six different patricians?” Considius pointed out as he sharpened his blades. “At a certain point, what is even the difference?”

“Everything! There are faces, names, whole identities driving every single task. It is not simply a job, it is a purpose for my life.”

“And being a porter would give you that? It is hard but honest work, a way to contribute to the State with sweat instead of blood.” The cold blades brushed against the warm skin of Caecinus, the dextrous fingers of Considius perfectly matching the facial curves and his expressive muscles.

“There is little dignity in working for pay. Is that what I want to be seen as? Caecinus, the porter; all the richness of the nature of a Roman citizen is reduced to this.”

“If you put things that way, I can easily see your dilemma.” And so laughed the man that above all was known as tonsore, followed by the tonsore of the Aventino and only finally allowed to be Considius. “It eludes me how one may preserve their sense of self when they are turned into a face and a profession.”    

“Exactly, tonsore.”  The other plebeian continued with his lamentations. “I do not want to be known for my work, I want to be remembered by the things that I am able to achieve in my moments of leisure.”

“Enough crying, Caecinus.” One of the men waiting patiently for his turn shouted. “We are what we do, not what we want to be! If you spend most of your day carrying grain and bricks for them and another, you are a porter and a porter is what you are going to be! If you to be anything else, spend more hours working on that.

Caecinus span on his seat, rewarded with a scratch and a scarlet line along the cheek. Each plebeian stared the other down, a moment of tension quickly disarmed by loud laughter from Considius’ stubbornly complaining client.

“Then you should call me Caecianus Somnus, for what I do more than anything is sleep!” Cries in support joined this statement. Surrounded by laughter and an empowering wave of human comfort, Considius once more attacked the beard.

The mood of casual friendship was interrupted by the arrival a tall and muscled man, caressing his beautiful curly hair as his penetrating green eyes inspected the interior of the shop. He entered, three construction workers with unfriendly faces escorting Considius’ client back to the streets of Rome.

Germanicus sat down at the barber’s bench, waving with one hand so the tonsore approached while

stroking his three-days beard.

“That boulder was lighter than I expected, Considius. You actually made all the way to the top and back.”  Lemurs whispered, their words taunting Marcus, trying to inspire violence. Lost in diverging thoughts, the fingers of the man jumped between the various tools of his craft. The crime lord rambled on. “It is strange to have you back, specially when your miraculous recovery correlates with the death of my great friend, Titus Annius. A life paid for another, perhaps? The ways of the gods are capricious and a proper person should not linger too much when guessing what goes on infernal reason.”

Silence felt upon the store, Considius failing in providing a reaction. The lack of words seemed to provide Germanicus with what him required, as the man smiled as he fixed his gaze towards the plebeian and indicated his beard.

“My position demands a certain level of reasonable cruelty, as you witnessed first hand. Needs aside, that does not mean I am unable to feel sympathy for your or those that you aimed to represent.” The leader of the collegium continued. “There is no need to prolong bad blood and conflicts beyond what is strictly needed, an example has already been made and both parties have already lost enough. I think we all learned a lesson about Concordia and harmony; what happened, happened, and we must move on.”

Marcus Considius did not give a reply, his callous hand gripping the left shoulder of the other man, his routine gestures instinctive and automatic. He raised his fingers towards the beard, crudely measuring it as he selected the right tool. He first leaned towards a shining blade, sharpened a few moments before, but a lemur limb offered him a blunt and rusty set of scissors instead. The spirits of the Underworld refused to be silenced, theirs the only voices that Considius was still listening to.

If Germanicus was still waiting for an answer, he kept it well hidden, eyes locked on Considius and his scissor as if daring to be challenged. From his point of view a relation of dominance and submission was being established, the tonsore a broken man that had been dragged down to his proper place. The crime lord felt the rising tension as Considius reached for the back of his neck, a tap indicating for him to turn his head to the front. Feeling the scissors pressed against his cheek and Considius starting to work, a satisfied Germanicus allowed himself to relax, closing the eyes face a supposed impotence of the barber.

System shock made him open his mouth, desperately gasping for air.

The Tribune of Shades pinned him down with inhuman strength, keeping Germanicus steady on his bench, all while digging on his neck with the closed scissors. As the tides of pain seized his reality, Germanicus understood the malice behind the choice. Considius was not going to kill him immediately, instead slowly and cruelly tearing and shredding a path until the jugular, maximizing suffering. Without many options and tears on his eyes, the crime lord tried to call for his men, delirium making him see living shadows strangling them.

With a horrid wet sound the tonsore pulled out his scissor, a guss of blood covering his face and clothing. Germanicus was livid, as if ready to fade away.

“These are the only terms that I accept.” Considius hissed. “Your death and your secrets.”

The scissor descented with violence. Iron shards flew as it broke, forcing him to close his eyes. To much of his surprised, he opened them to find no sign of Germanicus. In his stead, a tall blond woman, her cloak torn by the blade, her skin untouched and unbroken. As she turned on her seat in order to share a cocky smile, Considius noticed that someone had freed Germanicus’ thugs and spirited them away.

“Marcus Considius, I presume.” The woman raised her hand as a greeting. “I heard about your new responsibilities and came to present myself to my latest

She did not get to finish the phrase, interrupted by a ferocious punch that projected her out of her seat. Still clasping the ruined scissors, the Tribune of Shades panted forcefully, his entire body shaking with anxiety. His eyes seemed to brim with power, losing colour and becoming a mesh of heavy grey and bronze; lemurs answered to the emotional call, shrouding him in his spectral armour of curses.

“I am Aeneid.” Lidia announced, adopting a pugilism stance and raising her fists.

“I do not care.” Considius growled with clenched teeth. “Germanicus was my prey, it was my right. What did you do with him?”

“Germanicus? Oh yes, you mean Pleuratus. Ridiculous name and awful taste, however, Rome has nothing to gain with his death. You do not gain anything.

“Where he is!” Umbrae Tribunus charged towards Aeneid, howling his demands. “His acts against the Aventine and my family warrant all sorts of punishments and then more!

A cascade of tentacles tried to grab Lidia, the woman limiting to dodge, refusing to touch them or get closer to Considius. With her impressive speed it would be all to easy to abandon the scene and escape, however, he always remained only two steps further than what was strictly needed, goading the lemurs hungry for celestial touch to stretch themselves thin, but never enough to force Considus to close the gap.

“Horrible and unforgivable things have been occurring on your corner of the Urbe. Pleuratus might have done all his dead on the behalf of another, but he is only the lackey of great powers. He is more dangerous to them alive than dead.

“What do you understand about what he did to us, guided by that patrician logic?” Considius finally advanced, spectres consuming almost all light in the interior of the shop. The walls seemed to contract and expand, with the effect of turning the barbershop impossible large. Recognizing the interference between their two Triumphs, Aeneid prepared herself against dangerous eventualities; Umbrae Tribunus exploited this moment of hesitation to waylay Lidia towards a corner, joining hundreds of lemurs in a single fist of darkness.

“Tsh, tsh.” Aeneid let go, frowning eyebrows and biting her tongue as she regained her classic smile. As the spectral punch descended, she jumped, impelled by her Triumphant celerity, knee meeting Considius’ stomach and kicking him out of the shop. It was easy to turn the conflict into a speed race without further obstacles, pushing the other Triumphant through streets down the hill, quick punches followed by sudden sprints. Cornering Marcus against a dead-end wall, grabbing the man and leaning her brow against this.

“Is this the face of privilege?” A short shake-up. “I know what it is to lose everything, I know how tempting it is to punch your way out of misery. Will you listen to me now?”

As way of response, Considius pulled his head back to prepare a head-butt. With an audible sight Lidia pre-emptively struck him, an equal measure counter-attack.

“I will admit, you are a strong one. But strength is not authority and I am surrounded by the fears and hopes the people!” The shadow of Considius’ on the wall developed a new silhouette, lemurs feeding it into something titanic, singing a remembrance for the mortality of Lidia and trying to supress her Triumph. It was dangerous, the legitimacy granted to Umbrae Tribunus contesting Aeneid and trapping her in that world vision.

Such threats only made Lidia’s goal even more clear.

Sparks surrounded her eyes and feet, spectres once again shrouding Considius’ face. The Tribune of Shads attempted to flank Lidia with an attack in two fronts, fists covered in lemurs in an imitation of Aeneid’s cestus, other spectres animating a copy made of living shadow. The alley distorted into the tunnels of the Underworld, the woman well aware that she would have a single chance and hesitation was a luxury she could not afford. She grabbed the man and threw him to the ground, ignoring the shade and making haste towards the main streets.

The chase continued, the lemurs did not give up the hunt and inspired Considius to speed up, lending him more of their power. Aeneid accelerated just enough to stay at the horizon, a prize impossible to catch up to. Arriving to the walls of Rome, she was forced to slow down, inspecting for possible exits or a way to avoid the insane traffic, ubiquitous to the gates of the Urbe.

Marcus Considius approached from the top, tentacles raising him like cables, penetrating the walls and pushing him towards them. More shadows took over the day, warning the woman about the urgency of retreat. An inelegant solution presented itself, inviting Lidia to run across the wall. And so she acted upon, only to find her path cut down by lemurs. Tongue sticking out, gained impulse by kicking the cold stone and jumped, trying to surprise Marcus through the air.

A shadow whip struck her face, tearing her hood. Lemurs drank her blood, lifting her with a greedy cut across her nose.

“For a moment thought you to be untouchable.” Consdius stopped for a moment to congratulate himself. One of the lemurs still held what remained of the broken scissors, pointing them towards Lidia.

“I take good care of my skin. Lower those shades and I can share some tips with you!” She shouted, landing own a low roof and cleaning the blood.

“As a fighting taunt that is pretty lacking.” A new exchange of blows followed suit, forcing Aeneid to jump between buildings to dodge.

“What provocation? My offer was as sincere as they go.” A loose tile made Lidia slip, forcing her to awkwardly tumble back to ground level. Considius got too close, fists raised. Dropping her dominant hand in a hook only to suddenly rise it straight towards Umbrae Tribunus’ chin. Such concentrated violence would ruin to day of anyone, even that of a Triumphant.

“Wait one second, I recognize that manoeuvrer!” The stunned Considius recognized her despite her pale completion. “You are Lidia Bella.”

“That pun is something I regret every single day.” Aeneid gifted him a smile. “It is always a pleasure to meet a fan.”

“Fan? I lost the earnings of two months because of you!”

“Lesson one, Considius.” Lidia raised one finger and wiggled it around. “Never bet against me!”

The conflict between the two Triumphant seemed to be getting to a close for a moment, grey abandoning Considius’ eyes. The lemurs do not share the same feeling, still sensing the celestial promises that sprouted from the Triumph incarnated em Lidia. Spurned, they delivered another attack, so unexpected that it made Aeneid quiver.

“The spectres are still furious, they do not know what is going on!”

“They just remember me, everything is fine.” Aeneid forced her most confident smile, hiding the pain that she felt. “Follow me, Considius, do not spare me for one second or they can turn against you. Such is the burden of the Infernii.

They climbed the walls together, trading blows all the way. The lemurs looked more and more eager, failing to be hampered by human limitations; Lidia looked more and more tired, unwilling to lose more of her self to the Triumph. Marcus grew more worried, hoping that whatever was the plan of Lidia, it was good enough.

To his surprise she jumped from the walls down to a trash and dejections pile, crossing on her tip toes over the sewers and stopping at the borders between city, road and fields. An astonished Marcus observed as she scratched a line on the grass with the right foot.

The spectres slithered behind the woman, ignoring the excrement of civilization, once again arming Considius with lemurs and animating a shadowy duplicate.

Aeneid lifted her palm and challenged him to advanced, cocky smile and all.

Umbrae Tribunus crossed over the line, Marcus Considus arrived to the other side. The lemurs were not able to pass through, remaining bound to him through a spectral umbilical cord that slowly withered away when encountering sunlight. Under the implacable will of Apollo the lemurs moaned as they got separated from Marcus and dragged back to the Underworld.

“You are a Tribune, Considius.” Lidia explained to the confused barber. “The powers entrusted to you are the same as your orthologues, they do not extend beyond the sacred limits of Rome. Without the authority the lemurs elected you for, nothing anchors them to the world of the living and there is nothing left to them besides surrendering to the fact.

Marcus nodded, believing that made sense for the most part, despite the events with Atticus suggesting that there were exceptions to the rule. Lifting his head up, he noticed the shadows that darted across the ground, reshaping the duplicate of Umbrae Tribunes. Aeneid’s expression was genuinely impressed.

- Amazing, how so little of my blood was enough to keep them cohesive?

The woman disappeared.

The shadow-tribune turned to the barber, the expression on his empty face composed of silent spectres that was impossible to read. Fearing the worst, Considius did not hide his relief to see a cestus going through the duplicate, followed by Aeneid. The eyes of the woman had disappeared behind scarlet and alabaster blurs, colouring her gestures with an inhuman aura. The lemurs finally dispersed, she regained her usual expression as Marcus instinctively grabbed something that had collided against his chest. He found himself starting down towards an amphora of wine from Bruttium.

“I know that my motivations might not make much sense to you.” Aeneid held her hand out, offering a cup. “Fear and hope, you say, but above all fear. Good sense of purpose, but a reactive one; I focus only in one thing. Avoid suffering.”

“I’m sorry, friend.” Considius helped himself to the wine. “Did you take a good look at the Urbe?”

Lidia pulled the hood up in order to hid the lose of her smile.

“Sometimes there is no path for happiness, only choices between major or minor suffering. Pleuratus must live for now.” He looked sadly towards Umbrae Tribunes, while discretely Marcus put a leg behind the line previously marked, lemurs gradually responding to the call and preparing for an eventual offensive. “I know what he did, I know of his involvement in the disappearance of your family. Much as yourself, Considius, I am someone that has to see the world beyond my fists; someone smarter than either of us will be required to solve this delicate trap.”

“I must try.” Exchange of nods showed how both agreed on that. “Above all I cannot distract myself with banalities.”

“I know.” Lidia breathed in. “The Shadow Senate wishes to replace you, there is a kid in training that will be adopted and take your place. I saw enough of you to conclude that you are a touchstone for the plebs and a pillar of the community. I want to help you maintain this position, but for that you must start to act with the acumen that the office demands. If even I manage to learn thing, how easy it will be for Marcus Considius?

“You are a good woman, Lidia.”

“Am I? I am this close to start a war. Talk about avoiding suffering. Tell me, Umbrae Tribunus; how much your blood boil for the opportunity to dethrone an oppressor?”

[simba-tia]

Serving the Grief Stricken

S'imba took a deep breath and swallowed as he stepped onto highbridge. This wasn't going to be easy, but it needed to be done. He couldn't help but feel he was responsible for the deaths of those children. His own recent loss of someone close to him only served to drive the need to this home even more. Talking with a nearby blade he was able to find where the family of one of the children resided. He soon found himself at their doorstep that felt all too soon. His heart pounded in his chest, he had no idea how this was going to go. He straightened himself up to stand at his tallest though he stood fairly stiffly. Slowly he extended his hand to knock on the door. Biting his lip as he waited. After what felt like an eternity the door opened, a rough looking Hyur man with a finely trimmed mustache. The appearance of which caused the man to look more than a little intimidating. "Can I help you?" He grunted at the keeper raising his eyebrows. "Oh you're one of them adventurers. What are you doing here? Your kind usually just does their job and moves on." S'imba stood his ground staring up to the man. "Some of them yes, but with your recent loss I felt it would be kind of wrong to leave you, your family, and the others families that suffered the same thing to deal with things on their own." The father stared at S'imba for a long time. "We don't need your help." The man growled at S'imba. "We're perfectly fine without it, now leave us alone with our grief." "B-but..." S'imba started though he deflated in defeat. His ears perked as he heard a chubby boy walk up behind his father, no older than ten. He was dirty and scruffy and wore fairly ragged clothing. "Who is it father?" The boy asked his father looking out the door curiously. "No one, Tup." The father replied looking back to his son. "Go to bed." The boy stared at S'imba for a minute squinting at him before his eyes went wide. He started to hyperventilate as he stared at S'imba muttering out incomprehensible words. S'imba stared at the boy with a shocked and worried expression, definitely convinced the boy was about to pass out. The boy's father looked just as concerned at how his son was acting. "What's wrong Tup?" The boy's father asked kneeling down to his level and looking the boy in the eyes.   Suddenly Tup let out a shriek of excitement. "FATHER, DO YOU KNOW WHO THAT IS?!" He squealed at the top of his lungs in the father's face. "THAT'S A REAL LIFE GLADIATOR, THE HELL CAT!! HE'S RIGHT HERE!! AT OUR HOUSE!! RIGHT NOW!! THIS IS SO COOL!!" Both S'imba and the boy's father blinked, completely taken off guard by the reaction. S'imba rubbed his neck awkwardly while the father looked back at the Miqo'te with a sigh. It was clear he couldn't turn S'imba away now. This had been the most excited he'd been since losing his brother. Slowly the father waved S'imba to step inside the small home that definitely had seen better days. The keeper stepped inside into the light definitely looking awkward now. "IT'S REALLY YOU!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!" The boy said running up to S'imba pulling on his pant legs to her S'imba to crouch down next to him. Which S'imba did looking the boy in the eyes and giving a smirk to the boy. "Tup, quiet down!" The father snapped at the boy. "You're gonna make the whole settlement go deaf!" Tup gave a sheepish smile looking back to S'imba and said. "Stay here!" He said before scampering back to a box and rifling through it. The father looked at S'imba, finally relenting due to his son's joy. "Right, then you're here to help me out?" He said looking down at the Miqo'te doubtfully with a scoff but he decided to see just how sincere this keeper was. He started to think of a list of miserable tasks to give the keeper, when his son returned. "Look what I got last I was in Ul'dah!" He said holding out an object in S'imba's face that caused the keeper to pin his ears back. It was unmistakable to him and he couldn't believe it had come back to haunt him, was something that could only be described as a S'imba plushie. S'imba turned bright red and reached up to rub his neck. "T-that's pretty cool..." He said, no idea how to respond to that. The father cleared his throat and spoke up. "Right then, if you're really here to help you can take care of a few chores." He said nodding to S'imba. "I've been busy with the stand trying to make some extra gil to pay Nald'Thal for my son's burial. As you can see the house has fallen into a bit of disrepair. You can start by cleaning the house, then cleaning the chocobo stables." "Is that why you're here, to do our chores!?" Tup said incredulously, despite S'imba nodding his head to the boy's father with no complaint. "Err yeah, you're father wanted me to come and show you that even a gladiator needs to do chores." S'imba said giving an awkward grin. The father raised his brow at S'imba, somewhat impressed at the keeper. S'imba set straight to work picking up any trash and organizing everything out of place. Collecting dirty dishes and putting them into the sink and washing them. He wiped off counters and tables. Collected the dirt clothes and set them by the door to wash in the morning. Tup wasn't going to let S'imba work alone. He jumped in helping clean up too, setting books back on the shelf and drying off the dishes. "I saw the fight where you fought that big dumb Roe! Uh what's his name? The Darksteel Juggernaut! I thought you were done when you fought him! Especially after he had that chain wrapped around your neck!" The boy said excitedly, talking to S'imba non-stop while they worked. Finally when the task was done the father sent the boy to bed telling him that S'imba would still be there in the morning. He gave S'imba a look that he was staying the night and gestured his head at the couch. S'imba nodded his head wandering over to the couch and laying down as the boy ran off to his bed. A rough night's sleep later, no thanks to the super lumpy couch S'imba was awoken by Tup what felt like way too early in the morning. The father made them both breakfast of bacon and eggs, afterwhich S'imba set to work once more. Going out to clean the stables pulling out the old hay and scrubbing the walls of the stables with soapy water. Then put new hay in. Tup of course helped as well, talking excitedly the entire time. Asking questions as to how he got so strong or how fast he actually was. S'imba answered the questions with the usual eat your vegetables type answers. He followed up by taking the family's laundry to the river and washing them. When he returned Tup had managed to gather up his friends and S'imba was forced to spend the afternoon signing autographs and telling them stories. Though part of him did enjoy it. Especially when he told tales of his adventures outside the coliseum. Definitely helped him feel like some big name adventurer. Thanks to Tup's excitement and telling everyone would listen that he had a gladiator staying at his house and that he was helping their family out with things. His actions spread around Highbridge like wildfire. He found it far easier to get the other families to let him offer his service to the while helping them with their grief. While he did feel like he was being taken advantage of with some of the tasks he didn't complain. He just served the families the best he could. Whether he was washing smallclothes, hauling firewood, or digging up crystals for the families he just did his best to help them out. Finally when the families had no more things they could reasonably ask him to do they expressed their appreciation to him. Tup made him promise to come back and visit again, to which S'imba agreed to. With a wave to the villagers and the guilt he felt on his conscience lifted significantly he started back home. Now able to focus on his expedition he was going to lead into Amdapor.