#but no matter how hard you try we will prevail and survive

[theloyalpin]

starting to feel this way about everything lately

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

Scorpio Moons: The Psyche & The Hidden Temples Of Their Minds.

Scorpio moons carry a depth that no one can fully grasp. Their oceans of emotions runs deep into the most hidden spaces of their minds. Each day is a journey that is constantly trying them but each day they must learn to prevail as their worlds tend to crash right inside of them. Silently, they learn to allow the boat to sink when it is tired of swimming. And eventually will let themselves drown, only to come back up ten times stronger.

These individuals have a knack for finding out the truth, it is a must as it truly brings them purpose. Learning about the ways humans exist here is what gives them something to look forward to in their early years, because in the next few years of their adolescence they will learn the hard way... thats if they didn't already go through it as a youngin. What most don't know about scorpio moons is that, they tend to grow up faster than most. They do not get to live life as a child because life had already shown them that there are things we cannot run from, no matter how old we are. These kids learn that at a young age that there is the good, bad, and the ugly, and then theres just you.

So which will it be? Will you succumb to the monsters in yourself? Or will you try and be as good as possible. The way these people think, is merely not as black or white as most may claim. These individuals will go through the depths to uncover the secrets that most people will put away if it gets too comfortable. Scorpio moons will try their hardest to not succumb to the beast within, but soon realize it is a must to learn growth in this life time.

In the earlier years, they may have received some slack for their nature, and may have known to much as a kid to where this made adults and other children uncomfortable. So they may have decided to let go of who they truly were to seem more acceptable.

In these times this causes them to be uncomfortable with who the are, being shamed for what they know and not being enough will make them prone to hide certain aspects of who they are and when they get to teens/adulthood they learn to suppress it enough until its almost forgotten. These babies know whats its like to be used, abused, and seen as nothing. To the point where they start to become closed off to the world, while also studying the humans that come around.

This becomes odd because as they close themselves off from the world, its as if they are a magnet to others for their personalities. Awfully quiet at times, they shun the rest of society out and live in a world where most will never truly get to see.

As they lay quietly in their own realm, this is where the hidden forces come to play. Their subconscious takes them to realms where most will never truly get to see, only the real can survive here. Ancestral knowledge can come to them with immense ease if they are welcoming of it, generational healing is a big thing for most of these placement holders. They may have felt something 'big' about their personalities and overall existence, this is because they are meant to heal the people around them and more importantly themselves. This is not an easy feat however, they have to go through trials and tribulations just to get to the other side. The many deaths they go through just to get back to that little angel that was hiding all these years is a path so trying it forces them to give up, however their resilience keeps them going like never before.

These moon holders are capable of escaping the worlds they lock themselves in, they commit to holding on to the past until it kills them. This is when the psychological warfare starts to kick in. With their psyche holding on to all this trauma it can effect their mental, spiritual and psychical health. It is important for them to do healing and shadow work often so that they can uncover the clues as to why they move the way they do.

They try hard to hold on to the persona they keep in front of people but it is only a matter of time before they crack.

This of course delivers chills to the people who do not understand them, even family. The first reason as to why they are so closed off in the first place. Most come from very toxic homes, and this causes the to not want to be to close to others even if thats what they desire. Becoming suspicious of people around them, it becomes harder for them to notice who's really for them and who is not.

Now, we get the unwanted, unknowing, loyalty tests from them. Only because they been through enough woes of showing who they are to quickly being cut off when theres something that the other person doesnt like about them. They could be too strange, too honest, too conniving, or just to intense. Most people love you when your intense romantically, but forget that this is a everyday thing and it doesnt just stop at love. So at times even in their romantic life they could be too much, and their partners may start to run away.

So when the person you want to give your all to doesnt even like your true passionate self, who else would?

Hiding away all the goods, and no one gets to see who they are for the next ten or so years. Yeah this is a bit dramatic but im telling you, you're lucky if they DO express themselves vulnerably to you all of a sudden. Because it took them a really long time to do. I mean seriously.

The keys to their hearts are normally locked away and they take so much shit to the grave its almost crazy. If you learn to love them without trying to understand them, they may just give you the key. But most dont know how long it'll take to go through those deep waters just to see who they truly are, and to be honest most never will. They know this. So they pick their lovers and friends and have selective family members in the process. Scorpio moons could put you on a 'pedestal' depending on who you are in their life. Meaning they might have you and everyone else on some type of pyramid of whose the most loyal/who they deeply care for, love etc. And will boast about you if they really like you. They might not show this too much but if they DO...... You better love that because it was hard for them to do it in the first place, their learning to grow into their vulnerable strength just like all of us.

I had to give them a pass sometimes, all though their are some pretty interesting traits that show their toxicity levels being at an all time high, I know that it comes from a place of protecting who they are . Their secretly protecting that sweet inner child of theres, no matter how crazy it can appear. There hearts are numb to the realities of the life they live, and everyday is a new day to be reborn and that can get awfully tiring. So I say this to say that the emotions of this moon sign can take a toll on them so deep that it keeps them isolated from the rest of the world, so be gentle on them if you can.. It gets heavy.

[clockwork-sparrow]

Specula Imperatoris

A tower comes falling down.  Parts: 1 2 [3]

3 - Speed

Set during events of Stormblood - CW: Strong language, war, loss

The airship jostles from turbulence, jerking Gloria’s neck against the bench. She numbly stares at the vehicle’s ceiling and continues counting sheep. Seven hundred and forty one, seven hundred and forty two, seven hundred and forty three...

“After Castrum Abania fell, so too did Ala Mhigo, and the fate of our exalted prince remains unknown. All of the XIIth are to report back to the Capital immediately.”

The radio drones on and several others lucky enough to catch this last flight out of Gyr Abania huddle around it. The fucking idiots. They’re clinging onto nonsense hope for bullshit news. Gloria jogs her leg up and down restlessly.

“The dread Warrior of Light is to blame for this, but do not despair. For above all else, we Garleans know how to survive no matter the odds and no matter the injustice. We’ll stick together and overcome this like we always have.”

The cannon she helped build nearly killed her. Her research in ceruleum and fuel, distilling into this. Did the Alliance really infiltrate Castrum Abania, or was it the Empire? How could this happen? How could the Empire...let this happen? To her and to everyone? The bottom of her heel taps irritably against the metal floor of the airship.

“Nos sumus manus, Nos sumus deus. Long live the Emperor, and long live the Empire!”

Gloria gets up and tries to punt the radio. Other passengers shy away in horror while another takes charge, and she’s yanked up by the arms, kicking and screaming. She doesn’t care anymore, she doesn’t care! Why should she, when all of this is a fucking lie?! When the only thing she can do is pathetically drag herself back to a home she doesn’t want? Because for fuck’s sake, once was enough! Once was fucking enough!

“In these trying times, we must remain strong because good /will/ prevail. I know it will. /We/ know it will. Thank you.”

The hands holding her down. The airship landing. A police station, a squeeze on her shoulder, and a bus ride back to her apartment. Nothing’s in focus and everything’s a blur. She looks at the keyring in her hand, every breath raw, heaving, and struggling, and the sight of Florus and Oliver’s keys is the final nail in the coffin.

She doesn’t want anyone else. She found them and they found her and doesn’t that make them family enough? More so than her ‘real’ family, with their fake ass plans, their fake ass hopes, and their fake ass Gloria?! The keys jingle, then choke into silence as she clenches so hard that they cut into her palm. Blood trickles down her hand.

She can’t think about this right now. She just can’t.

[sab3rto0thed]

there’s a difference between conceptualizing death and actually experiencing it.

last year, when i slowly started to let my friends in, i imagined the world without them. it was always how things went for me. since i was seven, i had been getting up at odd hours of the night to make sure i could still hear my mother breathing in her sleep. when i was ten, i would completely meltdown because my grandmother wouldn’t answer the phone. my mom took me to therapy for it over and over and over again. nobody ever knew what to do with me.

when i imagined the world without my friends, the sky was gray. there was rain. everything was bleak. i texted her with careful hands and said, i think the world would be a lot worse with you gone. she told me that was very sweet. she understood me then, which i appreciated. it’s very hard to see past all of my walls.

what i had been trying to say was i love you. now, when she gets out of the car, we can usually trade the words back and forth and there’s no cut off. no one gets hurt. but death has always been a love language to me. i spend extra time with the dog because the fur around her mouth is growing gray. i feel guilty when my cats meow at me and i don’t pay them attention. i still listen for my mother’s breathing on nights when everything feels slightly off.

death was a love language to me, but it never touched me. i was never good at dating. twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen; the formative years of relationships. it wasn’t for me. i couldn’t hold a friend any better than i could hold a foe. in that way, i was invincible. i had prayed and screamed and cried away death for so many years that it couldn’t touch me.

i graduated high school in may. it hadn’t exactly been planned and i didn’t really think i was going to do it. death was the last thing on my mind. everything was perfect.

my dog died a few weeks later. the whole process was very quick, a bit like those old french executions where they chop your head off with the blade. i mean metaphorically. i couldn’t watch her die. i can’t watch anything die. once i killed an ant and the image of it remains in my mind, rearing back. we all just want to survive.

she was very old and i didn’t always like her. the thing about death is it’s so permanent. in all of my mistakes and former grievances, everything was reversible. i had control. no matter what i went through, i could prevail. i could fix it.

this wasn’t something i could fix.

they say you go into denial and then immediately after, you go into anger. i was never angry. i spend so much time being angry about everything else that i never spent a moment being angry about the dog dying. it just happened. i am learning to live with it. some days it’s easy and i don’t think about her at all. some days i go downstairs and i glance at her old bed, looking for the familiar lump of her body. i think i hear her collar jingling as she shakes her head. i always go down to pet her head at night when i remember that i don’t do that anymore.

i keep looking at other dogs, hoping they’ll be just like her. my cats seem slightly formless now, less close. they used to be my whole world, the epitome of my survival. now they are just cats. they are cats i love dearly, but they are just cats.

i didn’t think it would be like this. when we drove home without her, and my grandma clutched her collar, i didn’t cry. i only cried when we were halfway back to the house. i almost had to park because my grief was so silent but so present. it was how i had been for so many years, so maybe i shouldn’t have been surprised.

it wasn’t supposed to be like this, but sometimes things aren’t how they’re supposed to be. they just are. i’m learning to live with that.

[lost-in-sokovia]

okay, soph, first of all i apologize for this ABSOLUTE DISSERTATION that i will be writing in ur inbox, but i must express this.

i have to let you know your impact with auggie. okay. so. look. one of my favorite songs of literally all time is god's country by ethel cain, (may or may not be the title source for a certain joby taylor fic but shhhh) but NOOOWWW every time i listen to it i cannot HELP but think about, eddie and y/n's dynamic while raising auggie.

okay, yeah, hear me out: so my interpretation of said song is that it is essentially about a couple who's been born into a bad situation, and just like, all of the odds are against them. you know, bad childhood, they dont have much money. (much like, eddie and y/n living in Gotham, we know eddie had a bad childhood, we can assume they dont have the most disposable income) but like despite all of this, the couple is still optimistic, and lets their love prevail, and basically they fight to survive despite it all. (which is quite clear in ur writing, eddie and y/n are madly in love with each other and rarely do they let their dismal situation get in betwewn their love for each other and auggie)

anyways, in regards to lyricism, what really makes me think about this whole auggieverse situation is these lines:

"When you’re old you’ll understand But we’re hurting now so what are we to do 'til then? Cradling pictures of you" OKAY like this lyric specifically makes me think of when eddie goes off to prison and like reader is trying to explain things to auggie. like, she's kind of skirting around the subject, ya know.... just telling auggie like, "i'll tell you everything when you're older" bc obviously she's not going to tell a 5 y/o that his dad is a murderer. and in regards to the "cradling pictures of you", like reader looking back through pictures of old memories while eddie is gone.

"Our kids will grow up with half as much Trying to build something out of dust Finding out too late what they need" okay, this part reminds me of like, you know, eddie and y/n being young, unmarried parents, and again, i assume, not the most financially well-off. so, kind of just them having to come to terms with they aren't going to be able to SPOIL SPOIL their child, and theyre just trying their best to make ends meet and give august the happiest life they possibly can in their situation. which again is hard in gotham bc resources are already limited there, so he's already not going to have the easiest childhood. (but obviously eddie and y/n do EVERYTHING for auggie, and spoil him as much as they possibly can)

AND OKAY ALMOST OVER

but there's a part right before the climax of the song where ethel repeats over and over "don't sink in me with your dog teeth" and this part totally makes me think about y/n finding out eddie is the riddler, and even if she already knows, like physically seeing the results of his crimes on the news, and seeing him at arkham and probably has her a little scared. i mean no matter how much you love someone, knowing they have it in them to brutally kill is going to probably make you feel something. and even for a split moment, i can assume y/n is a little scared of her seemingly sweet eddie's capabilities for violence. and i presume, ESPECIALLY when they argue at arkham, she might worry he could turn that anger onto her, hence don't sink in me with your dog teeth.

okay, yeah, that is my thesis paper apparently sdsdcscsdsdcssds. i just wanted you to know that now i think of auggie every time i listen to one of my favorite songs, OMFG UR IMPACT

why did this make me choke up im screaming crying throwing up banging my head against the wall ANYA what the hell😭😭😭 YOU LITERALLY CAPTURED EVERYTHING IM TRYING TO PUSH IN THE AUGGIEVERSE JESUS!!!! im 1000% going to have to listen to this song now, and omfg when i publish for the future it’s all gonna add up🥺

[anaiswriterr]

The Dragon Kings Queen

Pairing: Dragon King!Bakugou x Queen!Reader

Rating: M

Warning: This is part four, I’d like to point out be aware: 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝗼𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺𝐞𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐠𝗼𝐫𝐞, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐭𝐜. Please don’t read if you are not comfortable with it, and if you’re under the age of 18+ I will give a warning when it becomes NSFW but at the moment it’s SFW.

<masterlist>

Synopsis: ➪ When the word marriage crossed your mind, you believed you’d marry someone you loved. Not this brute of a King. So here you are standing at the end on an alter, pushing away the urge to run and fight. Possibly start a new life, instead of being dragged into a loveless marriage. But for the sake of your people.. They say he’s not what rumors make him out to be, but how can you believe that when his eyes burn into yours; just as fiery as before. How could you, ever love someone as barbaric as him…

- chapter four: gifted dagger -

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You clutch hard onto an old bladed dagger, it digs into your palm and slices a long line against the soft skin. Droplets of blood pools onto the gravel below you, heaving you throw the weapon into a tree bark. You groan out in frustration when it doesn't latch onto the wood, "I can't do this!"

"Don't say that, it's your first day. Try again," Kirishima urges, bending down to grab the dagger off the ground, handing it back to you placing the blade down into your palm; you seethe in pain. Swallowing down the yelp that threatened to escape passed your lips, Kirishima notices your stained palms before snatching the dagger back from your grasp.

"We'll pick this back up later, don't want you getting an infection."

Perhaps he was right, the blade was only slightly rusted - it's been over an hour with the blade constantly digging into your skin; if you didn't cover it up soon then an infection was possible. You shrug, "An infection compared to getting eaten by a bear, or an ogre is nothing in my eyes; so don't worry about me. We can continue," You reach out to grab the dagger out from his hands, but he hides the blade into his holster. Nodding his head side to side, "No can do, my job is to make sure you are safe 24/7 and if that means making you go to the infirmary then so be it."

You arch a brow wiping away the sweat beads off your forehead from the hot dewy morning, "Is that a request?"

"Your Highness, will all due respect, it's an order."

"Fine, but I quite frankly would like to survive so if we could continue this on later-"

"Of course," he smiles, "Now, go fix your hand. I was told Bakugou would like to speak to you-"

"That will not be necessary since I will not be speaking to him." You pour a cup of water over your palm, attempting to clean off the dirt. After yesterday's events you have vowed to not utter a single word to him, he's clearly a hard head who never had anyone stand up to him. As his "wife" what better then to punish his actions then using the silent treatment towards the temperamental brat. Kirishima scratches the back of his head sheepishly, fiddling with his weapon. "Well you know Your Highness-"

"Y/N will do just fine. Please no formalities between us two."

"Right. Um well, you know. Bakugou is a hard kinda guy to work with, it was hard for even I to get to be as close as I am with him. He hates silence, he might ask for it. But radio silence might not be the best answer between the two of you.. considering you two are on thin ice right now."

You arch a brow in question, wiping the sheen layer of sweat off your brow bone. "What do I do then, Kirishima. How do I win over a beast who doesn't attempt at all?"

***

To say you utterly hated Katsuki Bakugou was an understatement.

For one night he managed to put on a mask that nearly caught you in a rope of curiosity for the man - maybe he was just misunderstood. Like hell, his mother had the same fighting and burning spirit one of a dragon meanwhile his father was more calm, well rounded, wise like a dragon. So why was Bakugou the mean one of the bunch.

'You can't fix everyone, Y/N.'

Well that sentence surely did not age well, you wince as the healer places an alcohol soaked cotton ball onto your wound. Biting your lip back in pain it takes up all your strength to not pull back and away from the old man.

"I'll be right back, my Queen it seems like you may need some herbs from the garden and recently I've run out. Don't worry it'll only take me five minutes." The healer reassures you, you nod in return pressing the cotton ball into the cut, cleaning the area in the meantime.

"That's alright, take your time." You smile.

The stinging pain slowly subsided when you finally became accustomed to the clear liquid, to handle a dagger will be much harder now. You are determined to prevail, just a small bump in the road nothing quite serious. A knock on the infirmaries white door retracts you from your thoughts, eyes wondering towards the window that overviewed the garden shows it's not the healer.

"Come in."

Short blonde hair with ruby red eyes strut in, Mitsuki, your mother in law smiles down at you. "Hello dear, I heard you were in here.. I wanted to speak to you. Are you okay?"

You can feel your heart nearly drop, your mother in law was as sweet as a ripe strawberry in season but the aura she carried screamed and resembled Katsuki. You nod, greeting her with a formal cheek kiss, "Oh I'm fine just a tiny cut is all. What would be the problem?" You wave off her worry.

"Oh no dear, there is no problem. I'm glad it's just a cut, I was worried it was far worse. I just wanted to spend time with my daughter in law - I wanted you to know that though this may be a hard time, I went through this. You will be just fine. I also... heard your and Katsuki's fight last night.. I didn't mean to intrude I was just on the way to find Melody when I stumbled upon you two, how are you feeling?"

Oh dear. She knew, did anyone else know? Of course people know the two of you were practically testing who can yell the loudest - this is embarrassing. He really did manage to get a rise from you.

You stare down at your palm, this was the first time anyone here has actually asked whether or not you were fine.

"I-I'm okay, he's just hard to get to."

The bed of the infirmary dips slightly beside you as Mitsuki's takes a seat beside you, "Yes, he can be a handful most days. Katsuki doesn't exactly know how to be... nice? It's probably my fault, I was constantly pushing him as a child. You know, he turned out to be a fine warrior; a fine commander." You nod listening to his mother, "I guess the two of you are no longer on speaking terms. I get it, I moved from a neighboring kingdom to here. It was hard to get his father to open up," Mitsuki sighs.

"But the two of you fell in love."

"You are very right, but like all love. It took time."

A silence falls between the two of you, she was the only person who you could remotely relate to right about now. She was the only one who could even fathom how scared you are, you were served with a silver platter all your life nearly always spoon fed and suddenly thrown into a tribe you knew nothing about. "How did you do it?"

Mitsuki arches a brow, "What do you mean?"

"H-How do I survive in that forest? What do I have to expect even after? How did you do it?"

The former queen sighs, eyeing your injury. "Well, from my kingdom we had similar principles I already had the basic knowledge of outdoor survival. To keep it short," She grabs your free hand in comfort. "I'm sure they haven't bothered telling you the objectives, the point system.. the tribal ceremony for those who make it out of alive. You must come out with a Goblin heart, no exceptions. Afterwards believe it or not you are placed on a pedestal at midnight the day you arrive back where you must eat the entire muscle, uncooked. The blood is told it'll bring great fortune and fertility. The process.. was nevertheless grueling I felt like a caged animal with all the drums and cheering. Y/N you must not, and I repeat my not throw up during the feasting."

You nod intently, stomach curling at the thought of a eat raw heart. But tribal traditions and regulations must be met, your heart pounded. It seemed like no matter where you turned there was always a set back, a catch. You survive the forest and now you must feast in front of the entire kingdom?

"Stay high, on top of the trees are the best option. Don't make a fire at night - I know, it'll be tempting. It'll grow cold as night falls, but the most dangerous creatures come out then and are attracted to light. You'll be dead before you even know it." Mitsuki lectures with a stern gaze, tightening her grip around the palm of your uninjured hand. "Find running water, a stream, lake, river. Whatever, it's freshwater. You'll catch your fish there, berries and nuts are also located near there. If you'd like to start a fire I suggest start when the sun rises, the creatures of the forest will retreat since they are nocturnal."

You store this information into your head, such valuable keys of survival. You are determined to return breathing, to return alive.

"Goblins are tricksters - never trust a single word that utters from their mouths. It's poisonous. They are most active during the day, but during sunlight stay low and stay quiet, follow the wind and it'll guide you. That is all I can say, I wish I could say more. Personally, I attempted to change this law for years. It never seemed fair, I pray I see you again Y/N."

"Thank you. I hope to see you as well." You smile sadly at the blonde woman who carried a guilty expression, her hands finally let go of your free one. "I'm terribly sorry, Y/N. I have one last thing to gift you, It's not much. Katsuki was supposed to give it to you this morning but it appears the outskirts have called upon him once again." Mitsuki reaches out for a golden box to the left of her, the velvet embroiled box calls your attention.

"It's said to be a gift from the gods. The gods who birthed dragons, carried down by generations. All Dragon Queens have used this, a sacred weapon to help kill the beast and restore balance; Katsuki has made the executive decision that you get to receive this gift." Mitsuki's hand fiddles with the locks of the box, the top lid opens with a flick of her fingers.

A blade, shines in the light.

Cleaned and sharp, the Queen's dagger passed down from hundreds of years worth of battles.

Is gifted.. to you, by the king.

"I-I can not accept this. This gift, I do not deserve this. It's sacred-" You babble, waving your hands you gently push away the box bestowed to you between the spot that separated the both of you. Two queens of the Dragon Kingdom. "You can, and you will. I was gifted this dagger two months after both I and Masaru's wedding. Katsuki wanted you to have this sacred weapon now. He has chosen you, please take it."  

You nod in response, hands trembling as you reach out for the velvet box. The handle of the dagger stings in your possession, the bleeding in your right hand has finally stopped when you hold the blade with two hands. It was much more easier to carry, sharper, and even thinner - as light as a feather, fit for a Queen, fit for battle. It was your husband who bestowed this gift to you, "When you are out there, Y/N. Remember.. to fight like a dragon."

"And how must I manage to fight like a dragon? I don't even know how to throw a dagger properly - at a still object, may I add." You show her the deep cut in need of stiches on your palm, "Dragons, my dear, always find a way to win."

***

Your palm is tightly wrapped with herbs to protect the freshly new stitches, meeting Kirishima in the backwoods where training took place. You managed to learn how to build a fire, a makeshift knife if your original weapon were to ever be kicked away from you, how to catch a fish and how to determine which berries were poisonous and which were safe for consumption.

You wince at the feeling of sharp branches scratching against your bare legs, dressed with royal training gear you wondered if you could actually make it to the finish line. You take a bite of a berry, it's tart yet semi sweet flavor cleans your palette of fish. Kirishima watches from the side with a satisfied grin, nightfall was quickly approaching and since this morning you have requested no sort of rest. You drink away at your makeshift cup, the leaf holding only a handful of water you eagerly drink away at.

Kirishima looks up to the darkening sky, hews of purples, pinks, and blues paint the sky as stars begin to appear.

"I should probably get you back to the Palace," He says wiping his hand away from dirt he collected off the tree bark he leaned against - watching your crouched and exhausted figure warm your hands over the mini fire you created. You look up, "I suppose you're right," You reach over to the stream beside you cupping a handful of water and watering down the fire, stomping it out with wet breaches and leaves. Patting it into the ground to stop the embers from continuing to burn.

Kirishima fiddles with his swords and daggers, "You did great today, Y/N." He praises you, proud of how far you've come in just a day. It took him hours to catch a fish when he was just a child, when his parents were alive. You thank him, moving beside him as the two of you walk down the backwoods trail. Only sharing small talk and friendly conversation.

You hum at the story he told of both him and Bakugou, "Well.. how exactly did the two of you meet. You two seem so close to one another, not to mention.. Kirishima you're very loyal to him - his family. What's your story?" There's a visible hitch in his breath, his shoulders tense up as he stumbles upon his words. "I-I'm so sorry! If you don't want to talk-

Kirishima chuckles waving off your worries, "No, nobody has ever asked me. We were just.. brothers. I met him in the mountains, I was just eight years old and back then Dragon hunting use to be a huge problem. Hunters, Poachers - they would all terrorize Dragons who lived peacefully with no mercy murder entire hoards. My parents.. were hunted and killed along with the entire clan and neighboring tribes. I was running, miles away from my home for days. Crying, hungry, thirsty, I was to afraid to fly because they would see me."

You listen intently, nodding along to his words, saddened by his past. Feeling guilty for even asking, he continues.

"Bakugou, can be mean, a brute, barbaric, and even sometimes cruel. But I promise you he has a good heart; so easily he could've turned his back away from me in the mountains. Let the Goblins and Wolves feast on me, instead he took me in. Into the Royal campgrounds, his parents welcomed me in. Cleaned my wounds, gave me a hot meal, warm milk to combat the winter, fresh pair of boots and clothes, even a warm bed to sleep in. Bakugou didn't talk, didn't even introduce himself to me after a few days. However if he didn't take me in then I would've died alone in the cold. And for that I am loyal to them, hell he even let me hold onto his toy for a while." He chuckles.

A silence grows between the both of you, with only snapping branches beneath your boots. Its crunches sooths the silence until he spoke once more.

"I hope you know you're going to be okay, Y/N. I believe in you, and in three days time when you have to walk into that forest; I am convinced I will see you also walk out.

"Thank you Kirishima, I-I'm sorry for what happened to your family."

The redhead waves you off once more smiling to you as the castle gates approach, "It's okay, things happen for a reason. Now go clean up, Melody should have your bath ready. Sleep tight your Highness." He bows gesturing for you enter passed the gates. You press a small kiss to his cheek watching a dark red blush spread throughout his face, "Goodnight Kirishima."

Walking passed him and into the handmaidens arms, Kirishima watches you. A hand pressed hard onto his sizzling red hot cheek that burned out against his palm, smiling sheepishly, gushing over the lingering feeling of ghost lips that once pressed against his cheek. Turning away with his back foot, he hears two pairs of heavy boots stomping against the ground, royal guards heave - catching their breathes.

"What's wrong- where Bakugou?" Kirishima quickly asks eyeing the guards who ran all the way here from the stables in search for him. "Sir Kirishima, King Bakugou has requested your immediate arrival at the outskirts-"

"It's the eggs, sir!" The other interrupts, "The Dragon eggs, the four Gardina left behind."

***

"What's the problem? What happened with the eggs, I thought they were fine."

"Since Gardina's sudden death the eggs need warmth, there's talk from other kingdoms across the seas even, that people are thinking about stealing them, selling them for one million gems on the magical black market." Bakugou grimaces, his arms crossed over his chest. "It seems that we should pay a visit, remind them who we are."

Kirishima nods his head, moving along with his friend passed the campfire where soldiers sat. "What can I do to help?"

Bakugou moves the curtains of his tent, "After you train Y/N, the same day as the games I need you to take the eggs and hide them away as far as possible, I don't care where just away from  here. Hide them with the others in the mountains if you'd like - we can not afford them to go missing. Far too dangerous for anyone else." The blond commands, tiredness seeps through his voice as he rubs his eyes to combat the sleep he's been in desperate need for. "I'll give you the green light when to bring them back, I won't return to the Kingdom until the day of the games. Did my mother give Y/N the Royal Dagger?"

Nodding to himself Kirishima smiles, "Yes, she was given it this morning just before noon."

"How did she do?" Katsuki rubs the back of his neck, "Rocky as first, but the girl picks up fast. Will you be here to send her off?" Kirishima tilts his head crossing his arms, "I don't know if she wants me there."

"If you care about her coming back alive, you'll be there." ***

- 3 days later -

The carriage ride is slow, dangerously slow as you remember the long tight hug Melody gave you before your leave at the sunset, Former Queen Mitsuki sits in front of you, her hand clutches onto yours in comfort as you shake in fear in your seat. Kirishima is waiting outside the enchanted forest where it was the most safest - a crowd has formed of simple tribe and clan members outside their homes as they attempt to try and get a glimpse of you; their Queen.

You have yet to meet them, only knowing the castle walls and the workers who served.

You can feel your dagger inside it's brown leather hostler dig into your thigh; but it's fine. It's the only thing keeping you distracted from your pounding heart beat against your chest and the clamminess of your palms. The stitch's finally healed by a magic teller.

You don't even notice the purple hews of the setting sun turning pitch black with only the moon and stars to prove it's light on the passage way;  you breath deeply through your nose. Watching how you approached the enchanted forest quicker then you anticipated. Queen Mitsuki and King Masaru insisted you sleep, but you respectfully declined. How were you supposed to sleep when you were being forced into the most dangerous forest known to mankind. They could've just simply pushed you into a hungry Dragon's nest.

The carriage stops and the horses neigh signaling your arrival, a part of you wishes your mother had declined the offer of King Bakugou it would've been nice if he were to even apologize. But since you do not live in a fantasy world, you are reminded this is real life. And you are most certain no prince dressed in armor will come to your rescue and insists he runs off with you. You're stuck here.

You look back nervously at the former king and queen who both bite back their bottom lips, "I will see you in three days time. We both will."

The door to your side of the carriage is thrown open by Kirishima who holds his hand out to grip yours, "M'lady."

Hesitantly you let go of Mitsuki's hand, bidding the two goodbye and latch onto Kirishima's calloused rough ones. Your boots settle into the ground when you let go of his hand, eyes catching a pair of vermillion orbs, ones you haven't seen in three days. His necklaces of teeth he's collected over the years frightens you, will you have a necklace like that one day? "Are you ready, my Queen."

His eyes.

They say nothing at all, just a simple red gleam. He watches you approach the entrance of what seemingly looked like a one way ticket to death, is he going to say anything all? Probably not.

His malicious words still ring clear in your mind, "You wont be a Queen if you're dead."

Death is something you refuse to meet, at least not yet. You turn to face him, he has no emotion and the tears that threaten to spill are wiped away by your wrist. The only people here to witness the games are him, Kirishima, a few men from the counsels parliament, royal soldiers (who you suppose are only here to protect the king and stop you if you decide to run) and both Bakugou's parents who insisted on staying in the carriage. Bakugou's quiet glare is something most would be terrified of, but you refuse to be belittled and underestimated.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" You hear Kirishima ask, your eyes detach from the blonds. Nodding you wipe your clammy hand against the leather hunting skirt you were dressed in. "I'm fine, I'm ready."

You're scared. That's an understatement, "Time starts as soon as you enter, retrieve the Goblin heart and come back here the third day at sunset. If you are not here by then we will assume you have died." A counsel man announces, you hold back the urge to flip him off - he didn't know you. Nor did you know him, to throw your life away as if it were never meaningful to another was plain cruel but there was a thing you refused to do.

Give up.

"I'll see you later Y/N."

'I will not die'

You set out into the forest, without looking back, with the feeling of two vermillion eyes staring into your back.  

TAGLIST: @loxbbg @urmomsshousee​ @samkysnks @mikithekiki @aegeanblues @mykuronekome @lowkey-a-faerie-in-disguise​ @orange-aesthetic-yay @katsukibabe​ @vvanills @katiekat300​ @utterlyconfused-tm​ @learningasigo​ @bigkoalafications​ @bnhaficswriter​  @tspice283​ @simpforeveryone​ @crackhead1-800​ @poetryandhoetry01​ @bakasbitch18 @riceballsandanime​ @franko-pop​ @lostmarimoismyhubby​ @junniev8​ @thirsthourdemon​ @cowward​ @the2ndl​ @reaperintheroses​ @bakugousmrs​ @maemi324​ @beautifulparisiangirl​ @commandertorinshepard​ @bnhafan101 @meliapis​ @thecaoswitch @liviwivi1 @hikaru-mikazuki​ @angie-1306​ @theinfamoushotdog​ @minibobabottle​ @honeylemondragonemperor​ @iloveitblackbnha @yokesmam​ @annepamgkrth​ @the2ndl​ @sugarandsoft​

AUTHORS NOTE: Personally one of the worst fucking chapters I’ve produced, anyways yooo Bakugou kinda feels guilty Y/N is going through this but you know this is going to be a strength building exercise for her. The ceremony after is based off of GOT so iykyk. Anyways my eye has been shut for like three days it just keeps watering and so irritating to write with. Okay I’m done ranting, I hope you liked it. 

[thetaoofzoe]

Fic: Ethan Hunt Must Die 1/1

Pairing: August Walker x YOU

Word Count: 10,420

Summary: You are a medic and a member of what’s left of  The Apostles. And it’s not rumour anymore. August Walker is definitely not dead. All you want to do is help him with his cause, kill those responsible for his grave injuries (and foiling his manifesto) and make Ethan Hunt pay. Falling in love with August Walker is just a given ;)

Rating: Mature to Explicit some Violence, sex and fluff and yearning and impetuous kisses, explosions and delicious August Walker.  And, this story is not as serious as it may appear, so have fun reading.

Note: If you have been around you’ve seen the original iteration of this story, but maybe not in its entirety. It was originally broken up into 10 parts as A Month of August Walker Challenge. Now, in all of its revamped glory is the complete story all in one place.  

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

Your contact was a pleasant woman. She’d collected you from the tiny airport in Kashmir and on the way to your destination, she’d offered to buy snack food for you from a nearby shop.

���The cabin is fully stocked,’ she reasoned pointing to the squat building by the side of the road, ‘but in case you want a Coke or something.’

You did want a Coke in fact and you took her up on the offer. Along with a few cans of cola you grabbed other items – chocolate bars, fishing tackle, and feminine hygiene products. You didn’t know how long you were going to be out there in the middle of nowhere, and you didn’t want to use up the precious bog roll when your cycle eventually came.

The woman was leaning against the side of the battered truck and smoking a cigarette when you stepped out of the shop. Eyeing your purchases, she nodded with approval.

‘Good idea,’ she said, making a vague gesture towards you with her cigarette. ‘We didn’t think about a woman’s needs during such a long excursion. Next time. There are all sorts of painkillers in the stocks though… just so you are aware.’

She put a gloved hand on her lower belly and laughed a little.

‘I know how it can get.’

You smiled, grateful to be sharing this moment with her, woman to woman, and thanked her before getting back into the truck.

‘Is there gonna be a next time?’ you asked, sweeping the seatbelt across your chest and clicking it into place.

She didn’t look at you as she started the truck and set off down the road.

‘I hope this is the last, ‘ she said finally and as it seemed like such a struggle for her to come up with an answer that she seemed satisfied with, you didn’t continue to press the matter.

Settling into the seat, you unwrapped a chocolate bar, and with three large bites, had it stuffed into your mouth. The salty chocolate and nougat were glorious and you moulded the sweet wad into the roof of your mouth so that you could savour it with slow licks.  You folded the plastic-coated wrapper into a small square and tucked it in your jacket pocket.

The woman drove along the rough frosty mountain roads as if you two were being chased. She didn’t seem at all phased with how the truck bounced and jumped dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, as if one wrong turn of the wheel wouldn’t send the two of you plunging down into the river below.

That imagery triggered sudden rage in you.

Goddamn you, Ethan Hunt, you thought.

You wanted just two minutes alone with Hunt to make him regret having ever laid eyes on August Walker. Hunt deserved nothing but a long slow torturous death.

Ever since the incident, The Apostles had been split on what to do regarding  August Walker. Should he be left out there and forgotten? Or should his remains be recovered and given a proper burial?

The thought that there was nothing left to recover prevailed until reports that August had survived the fall started trickling in. With this new knowledge, it was impossible to prevent the uprising that voted to scour the mountains to find him. This time, your only mission was to man the cabin in the event one of the search teams found him.

‘Not far to the cabin. Ayami is apart of the search team. You know her, yes?’ asked the woman.

‘Yes. I know her.’

‘Good, Ayami planned all of this, coordinated us, and was able to pinpoint a location not far from this cabin.’

Not enough planning for a menstrual cycle, you thought, petulantly.

‘It will work out,’ she continued and nodded. ‘He will be found.’

‘This is the third time someone has,’ you made inverted commas in the air with your fingers, ‘pinpointed his location, only to run into IMF lies. We are wasting precious time. August is alive and we need to find him.’

The woman drove on in silence for a moment.

‘I agree with you, yes. I agree. But what do you suggest that we do? If not this.’

You relented and sighed. You had no idea what to do other than this.

‘If I could snap my fingers…’

You clicked your fingers and she chuckled, clicking hers as well.

‘He would be safe with us,’ she finished for you.

A half hour later, she slowed and finally stopped the truck and pointed through the windscreen at what looked like a stack of fallen trees.

‘Unfortunately, my friend,’ she said. ‘There is a way to drive up to the cabin. However, it is many, many kilometres that way and petrol for me is hard to come by right. It’s easier to drop you here and you take the trail. It’s only a few hours hike.’

You grabbed your rucksack from the foot well, reached over and one-arm hugged the woman and then got out. She did a wide circle turn around and pulled the truck up to where you stood.

‘Good luck, my friend. And take care.’

‘Take care,’ you said. ‘See you soon.’

She gave you a two-fingered salute and drove away.

**

It was cold that far up in the mountains and the beginning of the trail looked desolate. Securing your rucksack on your back, you began your long trek, and the cabin was a welcome sight after hours of navigating the rocky hard terrain.  Inside was small and utilitarian, but it was more than enough for you. You didn’t bother to take off your boots before falling onto the cot and into a deep exhausted sleep.

In the morning, you took stock of your surroundings. The cabin was pretty well-appointed with a wood stove, a table with two chairs, an amazingly comfortable cot and stacks and stacks of supplies. The gold-painted metal ammo closet in the back was comforting to see and you were going to familarise yourself with its contents later. But first, breakfast.

You got up to make coffee and noticed a medium-sized cardboard box sitting on the small dining table by the stove. There was a note.

‘Your name was given to me at the last moment. Here are some things you may need.’

And it was signed, ‘Ayami’.

You slit open the box with your pocket knife and laughed when you saw the contents. Ayami had packaged not only tampons and pads but several different styles of menstrual cups for you and you felt guilty for earlier, being such a brat about the supplies you needed.

‘You planned everything, Ayami,’ you said aloud to the empty room. ‘Thank you.’

You lit the fire in the stove and put a pot on to boil some water. A noise outside pricked your ears. It sounded like the heavy motor of an ATV and out of the noise you picked out the sounds of other engines drawing closer.

Shit! you thought, rushing to the ammo closet at the back of the cabin.

Flinging open the doors, you dragged out a single barrel shotgun, loaded it, and scrambled back to the front cabin door. Peering out through the narrow window you watched as several four-wheelers and one battered Land Rover raced towards the cabin. In a cloud of kicked up dirt and dust, the Rover drove straight up to the door and to your absolute surprise, the passenger door popped open and Ayami jumped out.

You opened the cabin door and came out.

‘Good!’ she shouted over the noise of the engines. ‘You’re here. Get the first aid boxes ready, now!’

You were a medic and understood the urgency in her tone. You ran back to the cabin and were piling bandages, antiseptics, and other items on the table when three men carried in a limp body between them. Ayami strode across the room and captured you in a hug.

‘I am happy to see you,’ she gasped breathlessly and grabbed your hands. ‘We found him!’

With heart crashing against your ribs, you looked to the man being stretched on the cot as Ayami continued.

Oh God… they found him.

‘Somehow some wanderers discovered him months ago and took him in.’

She trailed off and shook her head. She still seemed to be in shock.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ you told her and squeezed her hands. ‘We’re looking after him now. Radio in for helicopter transport. It may take a few days to get someone out here.’

You cleaned your hands and went to assess the situation. August was alive and badly burned, but gladly not beyond your repair. Ayami came back into the cabin after making the call and joined you at the bed.

‘You planned all of this, Ayami,’ you said. ‘You made this happen. What’re our next step?’

Ayami put her hand on your shoulder and smiled viciously.

‘To make Ethan Hunt pay.’

**

You were wrong.

It didn’t take a few days for the helicopter to arrive. It took two weeks. Although the cabin was well stocked and had nearly everything you needed to tend to August’s wounds, it wasn’t enough.

Ayami wanted to leave and take August the long way through the mountains. They had the power to transport him over land and it was fucking stupid to leave him at the cabin to succumb to something that could be fixed. His body was fighting a raging infection and frankly, he was losing. You explained to her your reasons for why it would be tough on August to try to drive with him through such hard terrain.  He was in a fragile state and jostling him all around in an unstable car could exacerbate any internal injuries. A chopper ride would be better.

Ayami understood that, however…

‘We’ve got plenty of antibiotics,’ she said reasonably. ‘Why can’t we give him some?’

‘Because we don’t know what he has. He could have a bacterial or viral infection and just picking something to give him might do more harm than good. I don’t want to take that risk.’

It wasn’t as if you didn’t want to pump him full of all of the pills you had, just to scattershot the infection, but incorrectly dosing him, in his weakened state,   might kill him. August Walker was alive and you were going to keep him that way.

So you did your best. With Ayami’s help, you kept him clean and dry and in order to manage his temperature, iced. August, however, foiled your attempts to tend to him effectively. He was delirious and unaware of  what was happening to him. More than once you had to extract yourself from his vice-like grip as he held onto you and growled guttural threats of violence to your person. All you could do was try to soothe him and mop his brow and use the aspirin to dull his obvious pain.

**

During the wait for air transport, you stayed up some nights with August. Sometimes you just sat at his bedside and read by the light of your headlamp. Sometimes you just watched him, held his hand and stroked his hair when nightmares haunted his sleep.

He would heal pretty well, you observed, and, without too much lasting damage to his face. He was fortunate that the hot oil missed his eye, although it ruined his ear. But you knew that too could be reconstructed.

‘We’re gonna get you back on your feet, August,’ you murmured on those nights when he was at his most fitful. ‘And we’re gonna get those people who did this to you.’

Even though you weren’t sure he could even hear you speaking, you continued to encourage and comfort him.  It was the least you could do.

**

‘You met John Lark before?’ Ayami asked over breakfast one morning, using August’s real name for the first time.

‘When he was going by John Lark?’ you asked for clarification and she nodded. ‘No. Not then. He had already assumed the new identity and was in the CIA when I turned up.’

‘He was not always like this,’ she said a bit cryptically.

‘How was he?’

Interest sparked in you.

She shook her head.

‘Just different. Maybe he’ll tell you someday.’

Ayami smiled at you and you turned, alerted by the soft groan coming from the bed.

‘Oh God, he’s waking up again,’ she chuckled and then asked you, ‘Top or bottom.’

You laughed inspite of yourself and gave the choice a moment’s thought. ‘Top’ meant that you got to administer medication, clean up his face and check his bandages, while ‘bottom’ meant that you would have to wrestle with his strong flailing arms and risk getting punched in the face. Ayami looked at you expectantly and you grimaced.

‘I had top last time, so…’

She smiled and got up, patting your arm in passing. ‘Then you get top this time.’

‘Ayami, c’mon,’ you protested rising from the chair. ‘I don’t want to be unfair.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ she said lifting her arms and flexing her biceps. ‘But, I need my workout.’

**

Ayami needed to stay in Kashmir to tie up some loose ends. So, you said your farewells and parted company when the chopper transport finally arrived.

You, on the other hand, were headed to New Delhi where another contact would meet and relieve you of your August-sitting duties.

Exhausted and battered, it was just after midnight when you finally arrived at the airport.  Out through the cloudy bubble heli-window, you saw the second contact rush to the settling helicopter. You unlatched an dragged open the side door.

‘Hello!’ he shouted over the roar of the blades overhead. ‘It’s Janus. You can come with me!’

‘Where am I going?’ you shouted back, not moving from where you were sitting next to August’s prone body.

He was still blissfully unconscious and sleeping quietly.

‘There is a safehouse here. You can rest. We will transport Walker to the small plane over there and continue on to London.’

You shook your head and were able to speak normally when the blades finally shuddered to a stop.

‘I’ll go on,’ you told Janus. ‘I’ll go on, it’s ok. I’ll stay with him.’

Janus looked puzzled.

‘No, you are to go to the safe house. I am to continue on.’

You had come this far. You weren’t going to leave August, so you again declined the offer of a trade.

‘Now. Come on. I’m not going to quibble with you,’ you said, kicking open the other door so that the two men accompanying Janus could wrangle the stretcher out of the chopper.

You watched them carry August off and jumping out of the heli, you turned to Janus.

‘Be well, my friend. But I’ve got it.’

Janus shrugged a little and nodded, seeing that you weren’t going to be swayed.

‘Is it really him?’ he asked and you could hear relief seeping into his voice.

You put your arms around him in a farewell hug.

‘It is,’ you said. ‘You have Ayami to thank for that. Make sure that you do.’

You ran after the two men carrying the stretcher. The men secured the stretcher inside and turned to help you into the back of the plane. You pulled closed the small plane’s door and made sure that August was securely strapped in. It was going to be another long ride to the final safe house.

**

It was raining in London, and as the small plane approached, the cool precipitation rinsed away grey foggy clouds to reveal the golden city. Through your headset, you listened to the pilot talk to air traffic control and learned that you were headed to Blackbushe Airport.

‘How far is the safe house from the airport?’ you asked the pilot.

‘Not far. Maybe 20 kilometers. Not far.’  

You were so ready to put your feet on land that you closed your eyes and envisioned a soft bed, a hot meal, and an even hotter bath. Glancing down at the still sleeping man on the stretcher at your feet, you felt a rise of tender feelings in your heart. Not only had your team recovered August Walker, alive, but you had a personal hand in his convalescence.  Reaching down, you touched his face. He felt hot, but not as feverish as before and you were relieved. Elevated fevers for sustained periods of time were dangerous and although he wasn’t out of the woods yet, he was better. You brushed a curl of brown hair off of his forehead and smoothed the edge of your thumb across his eyebrow. Yes, he was going to heal well and regain his strength to be able to fight another day.

Blackbushe Airport was small but efficient and there was a black, solid paneled van waiting for you. You helped the men with the stretcher and once August had been secured, you pulled yourself into the offered front passenger seat.  The driver nodded to acknowledge your presence and you put on your seatbelt as the van drove off.

Someone tapping on the window jarred you from the nap you didn’t realise you had fallen into. With a wet grunt, you sat up, reflexively swiped the back of your hand across your mouth, and dried the drool which had pooled in the corner. Hand still to your mouth, you shifted to look through the window. It was the driver and he made a gesture for you to get out.

You nodded to show that you understood and he moved off. Behind you in the cargo part of the van, you could hear men talking and then sounds of strain when they lifted the stretcher. Even unconscious, August wasn’t for the weak or fainthearted. You chuckled at your own analogy, unclipped the seatbelt and opened the door. Your legs wobbled when your feet hit the ground and you pressed back against the closed door until you felt that you could walk without collapsing. It took a while for your legs to finally firm and when they did you followed the men into the medium sized country manor house.

Inside smelt of cedar and pine. Your footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as you walked into the charming front room and looked up at all of the old portraits and paintings and decorative weapons. Twin staircases, one on each side of the front room,  dog-legged up to the next level.  You approached a tall round table with a large vase of fresh flowers and walked around it. You peeked into dark rooms and soon found yourself in an equally as charming country kitchen. There was a man in there wearing a black jumper and blue jeans, drinking from a white mug.

‘Ah!’ he said when he saw you. ‘Come in, come in. Coffee?’

Aware that you looked particularly filthy and bedraggled, compared to his crispness, you cleaned your hands on your cargo trousers and stepped into the room.

‘Yes, please.’

The man obliged, saying, ‘It’s only instant, I’m afraid.’

Instant was fine and you didn’t protest when he handed you a cup.

‘And it’s terrible,’ he added with a laugh. ‘I’ve only just arrived and haven’t had a chance to flush out all of the pipes. Everything happened so fast.’

You nodded and drank the metallic tasting coffee without complaint.

‘Ayami, then. Right?’

You knew what he was asking. Ayami was the conductor of this orchestra and she deserved all of the credit.

‘Yes.’

‘Fuck… she’s a legend.’

Finishing the cup without much tasting it, you handed it back to him.

‘I’d like to clean up and make sure that he’s… that August is ok for the night.’

He took the cup and was nodding as he put both yours and his into the sink.

‘Sure, sure. I can do that. There is a room ready for the both of you. Come on, I’ll show you.’

You followed him up the stairs and down a quiet, thickly carpeted hallway which was also lined with gaily painted portraits. Upon reaching the room at the end, he stepped aside to let you go in first.

There was a trio of men in there, that you recognised as the medical team and the room had been set up like a well-stocked hospital room. The lemon yellow wallpaper with its sunflower print was a pleasant contrast to the medical equipment and other paraphernalia. The men greeted you and they all shared a happy look. You knew why and yes, you shared it too. You said nothing as you watched them undress and bathe August, glad that he could finally receive more focused treatment.

‘And my room?’ you asked.

August didn’t need you now and you had to look after yourself. Mr instant coffee led you back down the hall and showed you your bedroom and amenities. When he left you, you threw your rucksack on the floor by the bed, stripped out of your filthy clothes, and immediately ran a bath. When you finally emerged, refreshed, and clean down to your toes, you found a sandwich and cola waiting on the table next to the bed. You devoured it in a few bites but drank the cola slowly as you unpacked your rucksack. All the way at the bottom,  and rolled around a pair of thick socks was a clean shirt and sweatpants which you quickly pulled on. You sat on the edge of the bed and finished the cola.

Flopping onto your side and closing your eyes, you intended to rest for only a moment. However, sleep had other ideas.

**

Sunlight streamed in through the windows behind you and you woke suddenly then rolled over. On the wall at the head of the bed, a pleasant-looking woman smiled down at you from a pastoral painting and you were groggy enough to smile back. Rubbing your face you sat up, yawned, and swung your legs over the edge of the bed, staying there a moment to contemplate the night before. You hadn’t slept that well in a very long time and you were grateful to have finally got some rest. That old bed was a godsend.

After washing and dressing in clean clothes, you stood in the corridor outside your room door and looked down the hallway to where August slept.  His door was closed. The scent of coffee wafting up the stairs alerted you that someone else was awake and you wondered if it was Mr Instant coffee down there still flushing out the pipes and drinking metallic tasting coffee. You decided to leave him to it and you walked to August’s room.

You tapped on the door but there was no answer, so you turned the doorknob and let yourself in.  August was still asleep. The IV drip bag was half empty and the bandages on his face were bright and clean. He looked much better in the warm morning light and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. You smoothed down the patch of  IV tape on the back of his hand and August startled a yelp out of you when he moved.

His eyes were open and you found yourself under the clear scrutiny of the infamous August Walker. Before your inglorious meeting at the cabin, you had never been this close to him. The two of you never spoke nor had you even been in the same room.

His eyes moved all over your face as if hunting for something and you stood still letting him complete his inspection. When recognition finally bloomed in his eyes, he relaxed.

You ventured to put your hand over his.

‘Do you remember me?’ you asked.

‘I remember,’ he answered, voice raspy from disuse.

August fell silent and it seemed to take effort for him to speak.

‘I… remember you read to me.’

Your heart skipped with elation.

‘Yes.’

Breathing out a breath, August closed his eyes.

‘Thank you.’

‘We’ll make him pay, August,’ you said when he was quiet. ‘All of them.’

It didn’t matter that he had succumbed to sleep again and probably didn’t hear you. Ethan Hunt was going to pay.

**

It was fortunate Mr. Instant Coffee, as you dubbed him, was around to cook and clean because you weren’t about to look after Walker and do the domestic duties as well.

As the weeks drifted by and August grew stronger, you turned your interest away from him and to revenge.

Retribution, you liked to say to yourself. It was a much better word and to pull it off, you needed a team.

Ayami, of course, was on board. She was always up for some violence and you loved her for it. She knew exactly who you needed and how to contact them. And, if you were going to go through with it, all the way, you needed a solid plan. Every piece had to be in place for the whole machine to move forward. No stone could remain unturned.

You spent a lot of time in that country kitchen with plans and schematics and blueprints spread out in front of you on the table. The first order of business was to find the persons responsible; Benji, Ilsa, Luther and Hunt.

Find them, and observe.

‘That’s it,’ you’d told Ayami. ‘Find them and observe. Record their patterns, their travel, their habits, their pubs, markets, clothing stores, everything.’

You made sure to have rotating team members on each target so that said target would not recognise any reoccurring faces and become suspicious. IMF was a clever, skittish bunch and the way to lure them into the trap was to be patient and deliberate.

Early one morning, about three months into your stay at the safe house, a heavy thumping down the stairs distracted you from your research.

You got up, refilled your coffee and then poured a second fresh cup. Returning to the table you put the second cup in the space across from where you had been sitting. For two weeks now, August had been testing his newly found strength and had insisted on getting up and moving around own his own. He’d recently been cut out of his arm cast and was able to navigate his way on crutches. And on mornings after breakfast when he could get himself out of bed, he usually banged down the stairs and hobbled into the kitchen.

After a few days of this, you started preparing a cup of coffee for him. Whether he was looking for coffee or not, you always put out a second cup when you heard him coming down. And August was actually polite and thankful for the gesture. It surprised you. You expected him to be this gruff and grumpy take charge team leader who didn’t have time for underlings. When, in fact, August Walker was a very pleasant man.

‘Morning,’ you heard him say from the kitchen’s doorway.

‘Morning,’ you replied, nodding to the coffee cup.

He took up his regular place across from you, and leaned the crutches against the bench seat.

You looked at him finally. The bandages were all off of his face now (except for the one remaining to protect his damaged ear) and the swelling had gone down.

What was at first considered full-thickness burns were actually only partial-thickness and he could heal without skin grafts.

He looked, you decided, pretty normal. Handsome, in fact and you wanted to reach out to touch him.

He saw you examining him and he made an aborted attempt to touch his face.

‘No, it ahh… it’s good. You look much better. Really,’ you said quickly.

He picked up the coffee and drank slowly.

‘Does it still hurt?’

‘No,’ he said into the cup and changed the subject. ‘What have we got?’

Right back to business, you thought. Of course. None of this ‘feelings’ stuff for him.

‘The only one we got consistent eyes on is Luther. I guess they’re not using him these days, so he’s staying put. He’s in the States and looks to have a vacation home in Florida. If he has a third place, we don’t know about it yet.’

August listened and nodded and you swore you could see a little smile starting to play across his mouth. Not wanting it to disappear, you showed him photos of Ilsa.

‘I think, she thinks she’s clever. At first she was darting around, doing the whole ‘spy’ thing. It was cute. Now, not so much. I’d like to take her… if you agree.’

August looked up at you and that little smile was still there. In fact he looked particularly pleased with you.

‘Don’t worry. Hunt’s for last. We’re saving him for you.’

August held your gaze and you felt a thrill race through you.

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘I want you to do whatever you want to do. I trust you.’

You brightened considerably and resisted the urge to clap your hands with delight. Having August Walker’s trust had made the day golden.

**

A few days later, the thumping down the stairs distracted you from your work. Smiling a little, you got up and poured a fresh cup of coffee and sat it on the table across from you. Then as an afterthought, you got up again and plated a few chocolate Hobnobs that Mr. Instant Coffee had bought with the weekly grocery. You had barely put the plate down before August appeared in the kitchen doorway.

Seeing the mid-morning snacks waiting for him, he smiled a little and now down to one crutch from two, he hobbled into the kitchen and sat down in his usual spot across from you.

‘Look at you, speedster,’ you teased.

August’s brows rose with pleasure, but he smothered his growing smile by lifting his cup and drinking the coffee.

‘I prefer your coffee to the other one,’ said August, raising his eyes to meet yours.

You hesitated to meet his gaze, and when you did, the praise in his face melted you.

August quickly looked away and down at the plans on the table between the two of you.

‘So, tell me.’

He gestured with the cup to the papers.

You grinned, feeling pleased with your progress.

‘Ilsa. I finally got a bead on her. And I will be travelling to her location today.’

‘Today?’ he asked, sounding surprised and your brows drew together a little.

‘Too soon? I mean.. do you want to come?’

August shook his head and suddenly looked concerned.

‘I don’t want you rushing into something.’

Ah, was that it?

You reached out to tap the back of his hand with your index finger.

‘Whilst I thoroughly enjoy your concern, there’s no need for it. Do you umm, want a trophy? An eyeball? A finger?’

August was clearly surprised, and your offer startled a laugh out of him.

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘No, I don’t want any of that. But ah… I appreciate your vigour.’

You smiled at him.

‘You sure?’

He laughed a little, again, and asked, ‘And your flight?’

‘Coupla hours,’ you replied checking your wristwatch.

‘And your plan?’

‘Delicious,’ you promised.

And it was.

**

Los Angeles was hot and sweltering and you were not prepared for the weather. But you didn’t let that deter you, for you had a mission to accomplish.

You found the target sitting at a table beneath a colourful umbrella at a crowded outdoor cafe.

Carrying several bags emblazoned with names of high-end shops you stopped by her table, made a show of looking into the cafe and then down at the chair across from her.

She looked up at you and you tried a smile.

‘Hi, I am sooo sorry, but do you mind if I just sit here. I am dying in this heat!’

As you were actually dying in the western heat, you knew that you came across sincerely. She took a moment to consider you. Judging you harmless, she nodded to the chair and you collapsed onto it gratefully.

‘Oh, thank you, honey. That’s so good of you. I thought I was going to get all of my shopping over and done with before noon, but you know how it is. Just one more shop, one more try on…. maybe they got those shoes in the back in your size, right? Am I right?

You giggled easily and she nodded, then glanced into the cafe.

‘I gotta wear these gloves to that my hands don’t tan,’ you said watching her. ‘There’s nothing worse than having your arms one colour and your hands 5 shades darker.’

Ignoring you, she raised her hand hoping to alert the waiter standing inside.

He eased up to the table.

‘Yes ma’am.’

‘I ordered my…’

‘Yes, I know ma’am. We are working on it right now, please give us some time. The broiler is currently holding on by a thread. May I offer you a cold drink? On the house?’

You looked at her and she sighed.

‘Sure, go on. You want one?’

Her attention was on you.

You shrugged.

‘Sure! I’ll have what she’s having.’

The two of you chatted amiably for a little while and the waiter returned with your drinks. You immediately sipped at the fizzy fruit drink and put your glass down next to hers.

Several minutes later someone inside shouted, ‘Janie Fellows?’

The woman across from you stirred and then stood up.

‘Finally,’ she said and went inside to pick up her order.

You watched her go and quickly, unobtrusively, dumped the contents of your travel perfume bottle into her glass.

Ilsa returned with a plate brimming with meat and salad and set it on her placemat.

‘Looks good,’ you said admiring the dish. ‘I might get one, but I do need to get on, I think.’

‘You can stay as long as you like,’ she assured you and began her meal.

You sat and chatted whilst she ate and finished her drink.

You were in the middle of a long drawn out story about your imaginary husband when she stopped devouring the rare steak.

Ilsa dropped her fork and you turned towards her.

‘Something wrong?’ you asked, faux concern in your voice as you let your natural accent slip. ‘You’ve gone quite pale… Janie.’

Ilsa’s wide eyes shot up to your face and she spat out her chewed mouthful.

‘I probably overdosed you,’ you said quietly. ‘I mean, you were ten pounds heavier the last time I checked. But you and your hot yoga classes have done wonders. I might take it up myself.’

Eyes bulging as the poison squeezed closed her throat, Ilsa gurgled and staggered upright. The chair screeched on the concrete, fell away and you got up.

‘August Walker says, hello,’ you snarled at her. Then changing your attitude to something more helpless you shouted, ‘Oh My God! I think she’s having a seizure, help, help!’

A crowd began to form allowing you to slip away, but not before giving the thumbs up to Mr. Instant Coffee who had posed as your waiter who had perfectly distracted the mark enough for you to poison her drink.

**

‘Went well, I take it?’ August asked when you bustled into the kitchen the next morning.

There was coffee waiting for you at your usual spot.

You threw your arms round his neck and gave him a hearty kiss in greeting.

‘Better than you could ever imagine!’ you crowed and left him in stunned silence.

**

Distracted by the noise coming from the upper floor, you looked up from the laptop. The thumping down the stairs had been sounding a little less clumsy lately, now that August had finally regained control over his healing limbs. You were glad for it, because it meant that the infamous August Walker was out of the woods and on the mend.

You got up, poured a fresh cup of coffee, and was just setting it down when August came into the kitchen.

‘Morning!’ you called brightly, like the little homemaker you fancied yourself to be.

Well, you fancied yourself to be the kind of homemaker who didn’t keep house, but made coffee and assassination plans. You turned the cup so that the handle faced August when he straddled the bench and sat down across from you.

‘Thank you,’ he said picking up the cup and drinking deeply.

Smiling fondly, you considered him a moment and looked at the fresh bandage on his ear.

‘It’s ear day soon, isn’t it?’

Ear day, as you called it, was literally when August got his new outer ear to replace the one that had been damaged.  Contacts in one of the world’s leading biotech labs had been cultivating new skin and cartilage from his own cells and were ready for transplantation.  August had been putting off the surgery, ever since the fire of killing off the IMF team had been lit. He wanted a clear conscience before proceeding with any additional cosmetic surgery.

August lifted his gaze, but not directly to you. He looked at a spot on the table which was still littered with papers and blueprints and your laptops and a muscle bunched in his jaw, alerting you that he was uncomfortable with this line of discussion. You were never one to back down from a subject you wanted to pursue, so you pressed him gently.

‘I think… well, I think it’s gonna be fine. The surgery will be fine. You’ll have a brand spanking new appendage and everything’s gonna be fine.’

You watched his eyes sweep the length of the table, in an obvious attempt to avoid looking at you.

‘You suffered no hearing loss, on that side, the skin is mending itself nicely and the doctors even said that there was no follicle damage. Those curls will be coming back in no time.’

He scoffed.

‘I don’t care about that.’

‘Yes you do,’ you said with a tiny grin. ‘Yes you do, you care. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t look like this.’

You waved an appraising hand in his direction.

‘August Walker, meet August Walker. He cares about his looks.’

‘I’m not vain,’ August scowled, putting the cup down and finally looking you in the face

You softened your teasing just a little.

‘I didn’t say you were vain. There’s nothing wrong with a man who looks after his appearance. It’s… sexy.’

That stopped him and a spark of pleasure brightened his face.

You continued to lay it on thick.

‘Come now, a good looking guy like you? And you don’t know it? I find that hard to believe.’

He snorted quietly.

‘Do you ever think something that you don’t say?’ he asked, lifting a dark brow.

You leaned in on your elbows.

‘There are loads of things that I think, that I don’t say. That doesn’t mean that I won’t say them eventually.’

August’s lips lengthened into an inquisitive smile.

‘Like?’

‘Like?’ you repeated and decided to come clean. ‘I just said that you were sexy.’

You made an airy, dismissive gesture.

‘That’s not a new thought.’

You felt a chill manifest as a soft, insistent tingling that skittered all along your skin. Everything you’d hidden about your feelings for him was almost all the way out and you couldn’t stop yourself.

‘It’s not new that I’d do anything for the manifesto to be realised,’ you continued.

When August put down the cup, you reached out and clasped both hands over his.

‘That I’d do anything for you, August.’

The passion in your own voice stunned you. Surely, you had once again overstepped his boundaries.

First, it was kissing him without asking,  and now this, though August didn’t seem bothered by your audacity. He turned his hands up to enclose yours.

‘And I reward loyalty,’ he answered, voice low and full of promise.  

You drew in a long breath through loosely pursed lips, which August seemed to appreciate for his eyes lowered to your wet mouth. His own lips parted in response and you wondered if you climbed across that table and onto his lap, would it have been considered outlandish.

You didn’t think about any of that, as you stood up onto the wooden bench. With his handsome face brimming with delight, August held onto your hands and steadied you as you scrabbled across the table and landed astride his muscular thighs with a satisfied ‘ooof!’

He grimaced from the sudden pressure slamming down on his still tender leg and you were immediately contrite.

‘I’m sorry,’ you murmured, sliding your arms around his neck and curling your fingers into his shaggy curls. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll not play so rough next time.’

‘I like it rough,’ said August, running his hands over your hips to grip you close.

And then you kissed him, softly, fully, feeling his lips come apart beneath yours. Breathing him in, your thoughts ran wild.

I could get used to this. I could indulge in this all day. I could–

Then, ever a man of ill timing, Mr. Instant Coffee bustled into the kitchen, and it took him a moment to realise what he was interrupting.

‘Oh, shite, ok… uhh so that’s happening. Ok, great, but ah, you two… we need to get a move on. The car leaves in ten.’

And then he was gone, leaving you staring at the recently vacated kitchen doorway with your arms dangling over August’s shoulders. Reluctantly, you backed off of August’s lap and smiling, you cupped his cheek, pressed your thumb against the dimple in his chin and walked off to grab your travel bag.

It was back to the States again, the keys of Florida where Luther Stickell was vacationing on a secluded houseboat.

**

Stickell was not hard to find. His boat was moored in one of the farthest berths and was lit up like Christmas. He was having a party.

So much for keeping a low profile, you thought as you stepped off of the elegant cabin cruiser that had been rented for your mission. Your craft was berthed far enough away from his that no one in Stickell’s party could see August in his scuba gear, stepping off the low deck and into the dark water.

Standing on a nearby wooden piling, a pair of seagulls watched you suspiciously, the way birds do, and you lifted a finger to your lips, shushing them.

Holding a pair of strappy heels in your hand, you walked down the slatted dock between yachts and other smaller boats.  You purposefully wore a skimpy sequined dress, in the hopes of talking your way into the party. There were casually dressed men standing on the dock and smoking and they stopped talking as you approached. They didn’t look like bodyguards, but just like regular blokes. Easy to manipulate.

‘Hullo!’ you called happily, flapping your hand at them in greeting, affecting tipsiness. ‘I couldn’t help coming over. I just came from another get-together, but I’m not done partying yet. Ya’ll mind if I… ’

You made a walking motion with your index and middle fingers towards the boat. One of the men smiled and swaggered towards you. He held out a hand which you took and he led you to the edge of the boat, then helped you down the stairs.

Too easy.

There were people milling about on the port deck and some people playing cards inside, but not a lot was going on. It appeared to be at the tail end of the party, where people were trying to drink the last of the booze and eat the last of the food before they were forced to go home. You spotted Luther at the card table. He was laughing around a huge cigar clamped between his front teeth and then he threw the cards down on the table with a triumphant cry. The men sitting there erupted in jeers and hoots as he raked in the pile of money from the centre of the table.

Scanning the area you then went down the stairs to the toilet and stood in the dark narrow corridor thinking about August swimming around beneath your feet as he planted bomb charges against the boat’s hull.

The thought of him down there was strangely arousing.

August was stronger now, strong enough to cause mayhem with his own hands, and it was all you wanted for him. You crouched by the toilet and dug about in your handbag, pulling out one of Ayami’s personal creations – something she’d called her ‘cherry bang bang’. You drew out a black device that was flat on the bottom and round on the top. It looked harmless enough, almost like a little cake, but you knew the massive power packed into that sweetly named bomb. She had given you and August a personal demonstration of the destructive power of her little sweets. You placed a kiss on its glossy surface and adhered it to the underside of the toilet bowl.

‘You are a gem, Ayami,’ you chuckled and pushed upright.

You made your way back to the upper level and moving about unnoticed you planted more cherry bang bangs, even adhering one to each of the fishing chairs bolted to the port side deck.  

A chill settled over the harbour. The guests soon drifted inside and eventually left the party altogether.

You walked back to the rented cabin cruiser to find August waiting for you. His hair was curly and damp and there were pressure marks from the dive mask across his brow. You went up on tiptoes to kiss him. August caught you about the waist and wrapped you up in his arms, lifting you to deepen the kiss. Trapped like that against his big, hot body,  your heart throbbed excitedly. If he could elicit such wonders from your body with just a kiss and an embrace, you couldn’t imagine what other magic he could work.

‘Ready?’ he asked, bending to put you back on your feet.

You nodded and tossing your shoes aside, went to sprawl on one of the long creme coloured couches. August started the engine and guided the cruiser out of the berth. When you were a safe distance away, he reached for your hand and helped you up to the top deck.

You could see the lights of Stickell’s boat twinkling in the distance.  And after about twenty more minutes, once everyone was finally gone, Luther shut off the boat lights.  You and August got up from your deck chairs. You held up the binoculars and adjusted them until the houseboat came into sharp focus. All you could see now was the red glow of Luther’s cigar as the man sat out in one of the fishing chairs and enjoyed the rest of his evening.

August put one arm about your waist, big hand splaying across your stomach, and held up the detonator with the other.

‘Two down,’ you said and he depressed the button.

The explosion was brilliant.

Through the binoculars, you watched the boat burn and sink, but August was more interested in kissing the back of your neck and exposed shoulders to pay attention.

‘Mmmm,’ you purred slyly, leaning your head back against his shoulder. ‘Did you like that? Was it good for you?’

‘So good,’ he answered giving you one last kiss before releasing you.

You opened your mouth to say something but the distant sounds of sirens broke the silence.

Time to go, you thought and the both of you disappeared into the night.

**

You didn’t want to go back to the safehouse right away. As nice as the country house was, being cooped up between those four floral walls drove you crazy. August paid for a few nights at the Shangri-la hotel in London so that you could shower in temperatures above lukewarm, and sleep in a broad bed beneath washing detergent scented sheets.

And when August made love to you on those soft sheets,  your earlier conjecture regarding his sexual prowess, did not prepare you for the bliss you experienced with him buried deep inside you.

It was nearly nine in the morning, a few days after your expedition to the Keys, and propped up with a pillow under your armpit, you lay on your side across the hotel bed, a bowl of spag bol, and your open laptop on the white duvet in front of you. You were half under the thick covers and half out of it because the room was warm, but not uncomfortably so. August emerged from the adjoining bathroom, wearing one of the luxurious bathrobes and towelling dry his hair.

He tossed the towel across the footrest by the chair and stretched out on the bed behind you, looking over your shoulder to read the Miami Herald’s bold headline. He slid his hand beneath your tee-shirt and caressed the skin between your shoulder blades. How he figured out that you liked that, still remained a quandary, but you were glad that you didn’t have to ask for it.

‘Oh, dear,’ you said feigning distress. ‘Did you hear about the accident that happened in Florida? Tsk… such a shame.’

‘Is he dead?’ asked August, as he nuzzled your shoulder.

‘Yes, sir,’ you teased, reaching back to playfully push him off. ‘You are not paying attention.’

‘I am. I’m paying attention to what’s important.’

The implication of his statement drifted right over your head as you were too focused on proving him wrong.

He kissed your neck again and grunted when you jabbed him with an elbow.

‘Well, if you were paying attention to what was important, you’d know that…’

‘That Dunn is here in London,’ August finished for you and continued to lazily caress your back.

That shut you right up. How did he know?

‘Of course, you knew,’ you chuckled.

‘I suggest,’ said August, changing the subject and lifting his head to take your earlobe between his lips. ‘We take one more day here and then find him.’

As he spoke, August slid his hands beneath you, turned you away from the laptop and pulled you atop him. You wriggled with delight, and grasping the robe’s belt, you pulled the knot free and let it fall open.

‘Just one day?’ you asked, sliding down the length of his body to ease his cock into your mouth.

‘Anything!’ he gasped, the heat of your mouth robbing him of coherent through. ‘Whatever you want.’

You wanted at least two extra weeks after the mission.

**

When you woke hours later, August was gone. There was a note left for you on the nightstand and in his neat print he’d written, ‘Supply Run.’

You stretched under the duvet and tapped the stiff cardstock against your lower lip.

Supply Run either mean food, or guns and knowing August, it was probably the latter. You were just raiding the over-stocked minibar refrigerator when he returned to the hotel room, carrying a long black duffel which he dropped onto the chaise at the end of the bed.

‘Guns,’ you said aloud, looking up from the chilled box of chocolate.

‘What?’ he asked, shrugging out of his jacket.

You smiled and shook your head and switched on BBC World Service.

Unzipping the duffel, August asked, ‘what do you know about Sage Software?’

‘Nothing,’ you answered truthfully. ‘Who are they?’

‘They supply small business software. Dunn is working with them and hacking them.’

Taking the chocolates to the bed, you opened your laptop and searched the business. With a laugh, you rolled over onto your back and looked up at August with interest. He was smiling slightly back at you.

‘Well, what do you know?’ you said with amusement. ‘Sage is located in the Shard, which is… ’

August nodded to you and his grin widened.

‘Right downstairs,’ he finished.

‘Did you plan this? Getting a room here because he was downstairs?’ you giggled, when he leaned over to kiss you.

‘Of course. Leave nothing to chance, Princess.’

Well, that nickname was new, you thought, delighted.

‘What’s the plan, then?’

August stretched out on his back next to you and folded his hands on his belly.

‘He’s got an office on the 13th and is there most nights.’

‘Most nights,’ you repeated and waited for him to finish his thought.

‘Tonight.’

**

Dunn was surprisingly easy to pick off. You had expected for him to have cameras and monitors and other high tech stuff to alert him to the presence of anyone who came unannounced to his office. And, you were surprised that /he/ was surprised when August quietly opened the thin office door and let himself in.

You stayed in the corridor and watched the scene unfold through the narrow decorative glass panel next to the door.

Dunn obviously recognised and remembered August,  because he bolted out of his swivel chair and threw himself against the wall behind him.

‘I thought you were dead!’ you heard him shout before the silenced round splattered him across the frog poster that announced ‘work hard, play hard, live hard’.

You clapped lightly as August exited the office.

‘Well done, baby,’ you praised him. ‘But come on. I heard the lift bell. It would be stupid of us to get caught.’

All the little piggies had gone to slaughter. All except one.

**

Ethan Hunt was not a stupid man.

In fact, he was quite the opposite. He was cunning and clever and suspicious which were characteristics that helped him to remain one of the top Mi6 agents.

He also had a golden streak of very good luck and August Walker was just about to ruin that man’s whole career.

‘He went squirrely, ’ said Ayami who was pawing through a tin of broken Danish butter cookies from where she sat perched on the kitchen counter-top.

Two weeks after you returned from the Dunn business,  Ayami just turned up at the country safe-house. Much to your delight, you’d found her one morning sitting at the kitchen table having a bagel and cream tea. And you knew why she was there. Things were winding up to the big payoff and the team needed to be as consolidated as possible.

‘What does that mean?’ you asked her but it was Mr. Instant Coffee who answered.

‘Means that he knew what’s good for him and went underground.’

‘Because all of his peeps were getting murdered,’ Ayami finished cheerfully and you half expected her and Instant Coffee to slap hands in a celebratory high-five.

August sat silently in his usual place, thoughtfully turning the small white coffee cup in a circle on the table.

‘Last time he was seen?’ he asked finally.

‘Park hotel, Berlin,’ Instant Coffee read from the reports supplied by the ‘boots on the ground’ team. ‘Been there for about a week, but he hasn’t really stayed one place for more than that. We should have moved earlier.’

‘No,’ said August, not looking at him, but at the cup. ‘No, we want to give him enough rope to hang himself. Let him get complacent.’

‘Do we have time to let him get complacent?’ Instant Coffee said. ‘I mean, the longer we wait, the more time he’ll have to burrow in like a fucking tick.’

You looked at Instant Coffee for a moment. He did have a point.

‘Okay,’ August replied easily. ‘You’re right.’

At that moment, your respect for August Walker increased ten-fold. That he was able to take in the opinion of the other members of his team was unbearably sexy. He may have earned a little leg over for later that night.

‘I’m going alone,’ August announced finally, drawing the sharp attention of everyone in the room.

You reined your own reaction because an emotional response in that instant would have been inappropriate. You knew exactly why August wanted to hunt down Ethan alone. Hunt had not only gravely wounded August’s body but also his pride. His revenge was personal.

‘That’s probably not a good idea,’ said Instant Coffee, obviously feeling confident that he had scored a few brownie points a few moments earlier.

August scowled and looked to you. Meeting his gaze,  you nodded once.

‘August should face Hunt alone,’ you said to the room and then to him, added, ‘but I don’t think you should go alone.’

There was so much gratefulness in his eyes that you felt embarrassed and looked away. You didn’t want August to see the answering distress in your eyes. If the fight on the cliff side had been fair, and luck hadn’t been on Hunt’s side, August wouldn’t have lost. Tossing August over the edge was poor sportsmanship. You were afraid that Hunt would employ other clever tricks and defeat August for the second time. And now that August wanted to take on the IMF leader alone ensured that he would be left vulnerable to losing the upper hand.

You didn’t want to lose him again, but you remained silent. This was ultimately August’s decision and he had made his choice.

**

The two of you didn’t speak much on the trip to Berlin. There wasn’t much to say. You didn’t dare express to him your fears, because that would only serve to distract him with your possibly misplaced doubt. And distraction was the last thing August needed.

When he pulled up to a local hotel to drop you off, you stayed in the car, sitting quietly for a moment, unsure what to do or say. Sighing, you turned to him and reached to cup his cheek.

‘See you soon,’ you encouraged him. ‘Bring me a trophy.’

August nodded and you got out of the car.

Come back to me, you thought watching the car disappear in the afternoon traffic.

Your room faced the Berliner Fernsehturm and you could hear music from the festival going on in the square below. You took a long hot shower and stretched on the surprisingly comfortable bed. It wasn’t the Shangri-la, but it was charming and it wasn’t long before you fell asleep.

The room door thunking shut as if a heavy weight collapsed against it awoke you hours later. With a gasp, you shot upright and reached for your weapon. You couldn’t remember where the light switch was, so when you scrambled up from the bed, you backed up to the table under the window and jerked open the curtains to let in the artificial outdoor light.

The scent of sulphur and petrol filled the room and as your eyes slowly adjusted to the differences in the light you could just make out the bulky form sitting on the floor against the door. You knew that form as the impression of it was etched on your own flesh.

You put your weapon aside and padded barefoot across the hardwood floor, grabbing a towel and wetting it as you passed the small bathroom alcove. You crouched before the shadowed figure and put your hand beneath his chin. You lifted his face to the light and it was clear that Hunt had given August a run for his money.

You gently cleaned the dried blood from his mouth and chin, carefully working it out of his moustache and scruff.

You wanted to say something reassuring, something positive, but you were too overwhelmed with relief.

‘Well,’ you murmured, stroking his face. ‘I hate to see the other guy.’

August was silent and you hoped you hadn’t over stepped the line.

He then held up a small package wrapped neatly in butcher’s paper and tied with white twine. You took it from him, pulled the string and the paper unfolded  to reveal your trophy. Holding it up to the light, it took a moment for you to recognise the carefully extracted evidence of Hunt’s death and you smiled.

‘Come on, you big brute,’ you said fondly, attempting to pull him up from the floor.

When August didn’t budge, you stopped straining against his weight and gasped with exertion.

‘You’re gonna have to help me here, babe!’

Groaning miserably, August managed to get his feet beneath him using the door and you to heave himself from the floor. You struggled to get him out of his clothes  and under the soft yellow light above the sink you examined him. Big swollen bruises bloomed across his chest and back accompanied by several shallow scrapes and slashes. You wasted no time washing him up, patching his wounds, and getting him into bed.

Lying on his belly, August was still asleep when you woke the next morning. You went to the minibar refrigerator, withdrew your trophy and admired it in the morning sunlight. Your mobile beeped.

It was a message from Ayami.

‘Tell your boyfriend to be a little less conspicuous next time, ok?’ she’d written.

Curious, and glancing at August’s sleeping form, you rang her.

‘What’s that mean?’ you asked when she answered.

‘I mean that August didn’t need to leave that fucker’s burning corpse in the warehouse. He damn near burned down the place.’

‘He was obviously sending them a message,’ you answered, smiling gleefully, proud of your little murder puppy.

‘I can understand that,’ she shot back sounding uncharacteristically irritable. ‘But that also earned us more attention than we wanted.’

You sobered.

‘Is this something that needs to be taken care of?’

‘It’s already handled,’ she answered and some of her good humour crept back into her voice.

You sighed and relaxed, wrapping an arm about your midsection.

‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ you said after a moment with no conviction in your voice and she laughed incredulously.

‘When are you coming back?’ she asked, changing the subject.

‘I dunno. Depends on what August wants.’

‘Ok, you two lovebirds hash it out and I’ll see you… whenever.’

‘Thanks, Ayami. I love you!’

‘Get something from the Wall museum for me, ok?’

You disconnected the call and tossed aside the mobile.

Feeling a warm sense of well-being, you re-wrapped your trophy and stored it in the refrigerator again. Climbing into bed next to August, you lifted his arm, crawled beneath it, and curled your body against him.

August had exacted his revenge and you felt satisfied for him. But you weren’t sure what was going to happen now. The mission that had consumed so much of your year was over. You felt un-moored and a little panicked, but when August tightened his arm round you, your hamster wheel of thoughts scattered.

There was time to worry later, now in the heat of August’s embrace was peace and with a small smile still on your lips, you put your head against him and slept.

-end

[captainkurosolaire]

Prompt #16 ~ Arcade

A cataloging book of aves was given closure from the Crow's Nest. The dweller resident who occupied it held a huge fascination as if everything was richly new in experience. But the hobby didn't entirely prevent her from losing motivation. She had felt unaccomplished in her abilities with things out of her depths from being countered hardly by a formidable enemy who froze her only means of weaponry in her rifle preventing the shot along with suffering a gashing wound she kept the souvenir scar to thrive better. Furthermore the Captain had forfeited and sacrificed his arsenal of relics acquired over many painstaking years. To her perspective, it seemed she had made him lose more than gain. Everything she felt was about to be purified. The feline Captain had strong senses, and it aided in not only getting a prediction on the weather shifts, but also utilizing his numerous experience, there was a feeling aboard of morale being startled. As he took claim of the dawn, by loudly making his presence known, he clung to the ladder and gave ascent, he knocked to hatch since she had made the nest her quarters, "Oi' Shelah, c'mon we're going training." She had taped already hand's appendages from trying to learn the art of melee. It saddened her that little progression was made in improving. It gave ark memento, to how she was upon her islander days, always being the runt alongside far behind her fellow sisterhood. "What's the point? Quartermaster and First Crewmate already tried." Regardless she exhaled and opened up for him to scale the remainder. "Aye, I do hear. Although my methods may garner favor." Her personality type and foreign bringing made her a stranger to badgering. Which didn't always show results depending on the person teaching and tutoring.

Captain flashed a cheek and infectious grin. "Put that aim t' me this evening', I assure ye it'll be fun. I'll wait fer a decision below." He'd give her opportunity and room to choose. He hadn't done anything despite her island and beliefs against what she was fated and forewarned as an omen of ill. She contemplated before following pursuit. His lead brought her before clanking and rotating automatic machines, bright over abundance lights, ringing sounds of gil. Noises that shouted 'winner', overall a bustling and booming populated place unlike anything accustomed. "This is th' Gold Saucer, if ye think I'm a cheat or swindler, this place encapsulates it. Sometimes t' learn and progress, you have to make memories, and those that are fun, impact us more personally. Now we're going to play a mini-games, with this MGP wallet I borrowed from a fancy high-roller." Taking in leading her by arm as she didn't know initially how to consume all this scenery. "This is a Cuff-A-Cur machine, objective is to swing hard." She saw another demonstration before he activated for her to give a whirl, she gave a weak performance as the machine mocked her fist and punch and barely moved. "Though most like t' punch ole' Giga' lad. Striking force is what matters, although ye may struggle punching. Doesn't mean you can't kick th' difference either. N' combat, sometimes it matters using all we are or can be surrounded with in survival." She focused her long Duskwight leg's did provide range and advantage. Glancing at him briefly, doing a demo round kick. He transformed not only basic games of normality of arcade into actual serious regimen. Then she scored a much higher rating. It's compliment gave her a breathe of undefinable air. The Seeker sparked up ecstatically. He would navigate her across to the Moogle's Paw teaching her coordination and also as it tried scamming them from attaining their prize despite having it as the crane unhooked and it wedged between the exit barely clinging on. She was recommended and used to cover him while he shook the machine and wouldn't be weaseled out for the acclaim. The games all but continued even into Monster's Toss where they competed with another and overall defeated him in every round. It played to her strengths as a sharpshooter. These enactments were boisterously redefining her morale and even confidence, which although felt hindered and dampened, Captain saw to rectify. As energy was nearly sapped, "Well, I lost all th' MGP and overall my credit. Ye b' a mighty pirate... Listen, just cause we may lose some-days, or fall short, doesn't mean we can't seize th' next wave. This goes for everything n' one-day, we'll even go hunt ourselves some assassins, and prevail over that. We're on a path to grow together and use our coverage fer each other, weaknesses aren't nearly as troublesome. Much you've proven t' this started day, you b' more than enough." His nonchalant and vow as she was carrying a handful of stuffies and assortment of prizes clung to her waist. A massive amount beyond all his simple recognition. This was her first memory of treasure.

[koreaweeb]

Marionette - Beach Arrival (1)

TW: SWEARING, VIOLENCE, SEXUAL VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT

-

-

Chuya Kurenai - Day 5 of Sojourn

Sat at one end of the dining table, Kurenai opened her eyes to find that she was bound at her wrists and ankles to the chair. It did not matter how much she struggled, her attempts to escape were futile. 

On the other end of the table was a familiar face. A face she had hated all her life.

Looking around for something that could free her, she froze when she looked above her. What looked like a large blade was hanging so precariously from the ceiling, swaying ever so slightly. There was no doubt she would die the moment it fell. 

“Welcome to Borderland. This is a simple game of choice, only one may survive. Player Chuya Atsushi must make a choice between his children.”

Stood on top of the dining table was her father, holding a rope in each hand. All he had to do was let go and that would be the end of either of them. 

She kept struggling, the ropes cutting through her skin from how much they were rubbing. She tried to scream too, to plead with her father but no matter how hard she tried, no sound came out. Not even a squeak. 

He did not look at her once, not a single glance, when he let go of the rope attached to the blade above her. He chose her brother. It had always been her brother.

Waking up abruptly from her nightmare, Kurenai found herself breathing hard. She looked down at her wrists, rubbing her thumb against her skin. It was just a dream but she could vividly feel the pain of the ropes cutting into her. She could still feel the pain now. What hurt more, however, was the fact that even in her own dream, her father chose her brother over her. 

She let out a sigh, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath to calm herself. 

Was her dream trying to tell her something?

That she would never be able to cut the strings her father had attached to her? That if she were to cut those strings, it would mean the end for her?

PAK!

With a hard slap to her cheek, Kurenai stopped herself from spiralling. 

Borderland was an unforgiving place, one mistake and she could be losing her life. She had no time to be thinking ‘what ifs’. Her only goal now was to return to the real world, so she could exact her revenge on her father. Every day she spent in Borderland, was another day he was winning.

Sitting up on the mattress, Kurenai let out a soft groan as she stretched her arms up in the air. She found herself a little home in the furniture store, in a shopping mall. While she loved a little shopping spree every so often, it was extremely eerie when the mall was abandoned and empty of shoppers.

As she got out of the bed, she adjusted her dress before frowning. It was crinkled from all the game activities and sleeping in it for several days. Time to go shopping.

The clicking of her heels echoed around the entire mall, coupled with her soft singing, it was almost as if she was in a horror movie.

With a few items on her arm, she went into a changing room to try the clothes on. She decided on a red A-line dress while holding onto several more outfits. Although she liked to look good, after the five of Spades game, practicality seemed to be more important. She even went to the shoe store and picked out a pair of comfortable sneakers. She kept her Louboutin still, she was not about to part with them.

Grabbing a backpack along the way, Kurenai was now ready to go on her way.

Before leaving the mall, she headed to the information desk and searched around. In the drawer of the desk was a stack of what she was looking for: a map of Tokyo. Shopping malls tend to have information pamphlets for tourists, whether it was for attractions or a map of the city. She picked up a map, browsing the area. 

Right now, her main problem was finding food and water, which she did not have much of. 

Carefully looking through the areas, she suddenly remembered something.

Maybe when we meet, it’ll be at the beach.

That was what Chishiya said to her last night.

Under normal circumstances, she would have dismissed this simple statement. But they were not under normal circumstances. Anything and everything one would see or hear around this place could potentially be life saving. 

Still, she was skeptical about trusting Chishiya.

Though as she was studying the map, she found herself looking at beaches around Tokyo. None of them were close enough, and if she was being honest, Kurenai was hoping to avoid any kind of physical activity. If she were to participate in games, it was better to conserve her energy.

Just as she was about to fold the map up, one particular place caught her attention. It was not too far from where she was, if she decided to explore.

Could this be the place?

--

So this is how the top 1% lived.

After spending forty-five minutes trekking through a seemingly empty Tokyo, Kurenai finally found it: Tama Pacific Beach Resort Hotel. On her way here, she had been doubting the place but now that she was just standing just across the river looking at the hotel, there was no doubt. 

Most activities seemed to be happening by the pool, where there was a DJ blasting music through the speakers while girls were parading about in their bikinis. The contrast was stark, between the bubble within this hotel and the rest of Tokyo. Almost as if there were no games of life and death going on every night.

As she was still processing the information, an arm snaked around her waist when she was suddenly grabbed and a hand was placed around her mouth. Struggling out of instincts, it seemed pointless as she was being dragged away. 

She really got herself in trouble this time.

Next thing she knew, she was put in a chair, surrounded by strangers in the room with an eccentric man’s face just inches away from hers. She could smell the alcohol on him, and see the crazy in his eyes. Just what did she get herself into?

“How many times do I have to tell you to treat the ladies with respect, Niragi?” the man hummed, never taking his eyes off Kurenai. She did not back down either, staring straight into his eyes. “Interesting…”

“I don’t take orders from you,” another man answered. 

“Anyway! Welcome to utopia, my pretty! Welcome to the Beach! We have the answer you seek for!”

Answer? 

So they held the key on how to return to the real world?

“And who are you for me to trust?”

“I’m the number one around here, I’m the Hatter. These are my executives who help keep order here at the Beach. Who might you be, pretty?”

“I prefer not to say.”

Someone suddenly yanked her by the hair, jerking her head back. She was looking into another pair of eyes, a very dangerous pair of eyes. If she were to stay here, she would have to take note to avoid this man. The man called Niragi.

“Don’t play games with us, little girl. You won’t come out winning.”

“Now, now,” Hatter said, shooing the man away. “I told you to be gentle. We are a community here at the Beach, building a utopia and working towards a goal together. We won’t want to scare people away. Come on now, pretty, just tell me. We’re not your enemies here.”

“Chuya Kurenai.”

The hatter’s eyes widened. 

“Chuya? As in the Chuya Group? That Chuya? Please tell me you are that Chuya!”

Even in Borderland, the Chuya name prevailed. 

The Chuya’s were one of the bluest and oldest blood in Japan, and they were a household name. While the Chuya Group was known for their real estates, they were involved in almost everything from politics to entertainment. If one were to carry the Chuya name, or marry into the family, they were set for life.

In a place like Borderland, however, what good would her name serve?

She still had to participate in games. Her life was still on the line every time she entered a game. If her visa were to expire, it would not extend just because she was a Chuya. 

“Well Miss Chuya, we welcome you with open arms.” Beckoning one of the others, the Hatter was handed something and he put it on Kurenai’s wrist: a key with the number 70 on it. “Now, let me tell you the rules here at the Beach. We only have three. First of all, since we’re at the Beach, swimwear is required. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Once again, at his signal, the others moved and pulled back the moving wall to reveal another room. It was, however, what was on the wall in that room that interested Kurenai. 

The entire wall was covered in graffiti. Not just any graffiti but the entire deck of playing cards drawn crudely with a few crossed out. 

“This is the answer, Miss Chuya. The one and only method to leave Borderland.”

A smirk crept onto her face. She was right. By her second card, Kurenai guessed that the objective of these games was to collect the cards. Otherwise there was no point in issuing the cards after each game. Still, it was a cruel objective. Did they really expect one person to collect all fifty-two?

“By collecting each and every card, one individual will be chosen to leave Borderland,” Hatter said. 

Her smirk was now replaced with a frown.

Only one individual would leave when all cards were collected? Was that why the Beach was formed? A large group would collect more cards and duplicates could be used for the next person in line.

She looked down at the key on her wrist and scoffed. The number 70 was really mocking her right now. 

“Which brings us to the second rule here at the Beach,” the Hatter smiled, putting his hands on either side of the chair and leaned close to Kurenai. All cards must be handed over. We are a collective after all, any and every card you own will be contributed to the Beach.

“I know it seems unfair that your number is lower and you have to wait around longer before you leave but we can’t help that you’re a new member here. However! Members die every night in games, so naturally you will be promoted. And what if you contribute more cards than a person higher in rank? Or...what if your card is one that we need? Well, my pretty, then you will be promoted to a higher rank. Fair, right?”

“Oh? In that case, you will most definitely promote me,” Kurenai smiled. “Not only will you promote me, you will make me an executive too.”

[mc-critical]

I really don’t understand the amount of people who apparently dislike Mihrimah for not giving Rüstem a chance/not having Rüstem grow on her. I don’t know entirely how I feel about Mihrimah as a character but I feel like if you were to dislike her that’d be a silly reason. It was a opportunistic marriage, one she never wanted and to a man she never loved. Not to mention he was also borderline pedophilic (when he said to her on her wedding night that he had been “waiting for this moment for years” when she was 17..okay) and then coercing her into consumating the marriage through the threat of suicide. Sure, the circumstances of Rüstem’s life were sad, but I don’t understand how that entails him being *entitled* to Mihrimah’s love or affection. And if anything I found Rüstem to be misogynistic and possibly even abusive, which likely made marriage to him all the worse. Mihrimah’s definitely not perfect or above criticism, but that doesn’t mean she owed any man love, sex or affection, royal borne woman or not.

I don't understand them, either. Because this is the last thing Mihrimah should be disliked for.

Rüstem is a very odious character with minimal redeeming qualities. His supposed love for Mihrimah is established disturbingly early on and while that may have fled over the audience's heads (it sure did fly over my head when I first watched the show!) because their marriage is a historical fact and as such, is automatically considered the normal course of things - the questionable pedophilic implications are definitely there and send off the alarming signs of utterly problematic behavior. Sure, he's done his duty by saving her after she fell off a horse and (little!) Mihrimah thanked him for it, but it is clearly seen in his eyes by the second episode he's on-screen that there's something more and something baffling when the girl is so young. And it only escalated from there.

Obviously, most of his fanbase ignores or flat out misses this aspect of his character, but I also find people that think that his attitude to Mihrimah is the only bad thing about Rüstem when I find most of his negative traits to be present outside of Mihrimah, but with her witnessing them. I feel the connection to Iskender Çelebi and the way he bacame the stable-man of the castle are his most important character establishing moments: they shine a light into his sneakiness and ability to play dirty, but also reveal his immediate prejudice against Ibrahim. The ambition, similar to Hürrem's, but not for the same reasons, is set up from the get-go. He's seemingly following Iskender, just like he comes to seemigly follow Hürrem, but he always forges his own path for his own gain. His alleged "loyalty" is the thing that Rüstem usually gets the most credit for, but while he begins to look like Hürrem's loyal companion that shall fulfill her every order, this whole facade is deconstructed and ultimately, totally broken apart in S04. His character establishing moments recontextualize all the decisions he makes in that season and show the true nature of his ambition: he followed Hürrem when she prevailed over everyone, he followed her when she seemingly gave him the world and all the desired power and when she and the one she wanted for the throne were put into a disadvantaged position and Selim got the upper hand, he ran straight for the opportunity, despite of him making an oath in front of the Quran not to do that. He turns out to be simply an opportunist hyena who works only for his own gain. Nothing more. Just like he saw the opportunity to get rid of the stable-man before him in the past, now he sees the opportunity to be on the winning side again with Selim. He doesn't care who is he in front of and who he promised what, as long as they're of no use to him, he bails. His "loyalty" immediately disappears from his positive traits, because it turns out he never had it in the first place. People praise him for his loyalty for Mihrimah, but that "loyalty" also lasted so long - when he found out that she wouldn't ever come to love him, he began to bang with Gracia Mendez, in conjunction with the betrayal of what Hürrem stood up for. Now, tell me, how can Mihrimah love such a guy? That was one of the only reasons she tolerated him and when even that was lost, how can she still keep her ties with him?

[His backstory is sad indeed, but the only thing it does is put his actions into perspective, not justify them or make him likeable somehow. Especially when what that "character lore dump" specifically explains is his refusal to tell Nigar where her daughter is - the backstory makes that action logical for his character, but it's still framed as nothing short of spiteful. That said, he still does have some soft sides and the arc with his brother is where I found him the most sympathetic - this is the time Rüstem actually showed vulnerability without false alarms or disguise and his brother was probably the only thing that was precious to him and stayed precious after all these years, consistently throughout his screentime. What helps even more, is the brother's role as a moral compass and the last bridge between the past/his loyalties and the future/the victories he would achieve through opportunism. That was the last gasp of what was left of his possible humanity and after his brother was killed, he let it go almost instantly, because... well, after he willingly chose his own life in the saray, he might as well continue to live it, right? Him saving a boy in S03 without any hesitation whatsoever, was also respectable. But these demonstrations of a softer side of his being are also taking place outside of Mihrimah, but with her not witnessing them altogether. And they do little in changing the general impression of Rüstem's character and his relationship with Mihrimah.]

We have to keep in mind that Mihrimah's whole S03 arc was finding purpose in her life and finding true love. She had many love stories throughout the series with different people, different personalities and different motives to try to make it work with them. No matter what they've went through together and despite of them all having the same outcomes due to different outside (and inside) factors, there is a reason she fell for these people in the first place. Okay, while for Bali Bey it was a bizarre, puppy, immature, childish love, for Taşlicalı something truly genuine began to flourish with all the glances, poems, dedication (Mahidevran succeeded to break them up, but it's not to be denied that Taşlicalı was very hard to convince and he was still thinking of her afterwards) and sweet words. She got a call for a new adventure with him. Bali Bey, on the other hand, was adored by her mostly for his handsomeness, I feel, but even when he tore all her dreams apart, he showed tact and respect. What I mean to say is, if Rüstem has qualities that are "worthy of Mihrimah", wouldn't she see them? Wouldn't she see all these virtues? Because all she sees before the marriage are his words that she will marry him, that she will be his and that's it. The best she sees of him is his good manners when he asks her whether she wants something or stuff, but he could do that with everyone else, knowing his post, and the previous implications make even that alone head scratching. Why would she want a man like that? I agree with all your points. Are you, people, denying Mihrimah her feelings? She realized the potential advantages of this marriage and agreed to do it regardless, why does she have to come to love him when he truly gives her no real reasons to, even before she married him?

I believe Rüstem cares about Mihrimah, albeit in his own distorted, toxic way, but in reality, he didn't do her any good. His relationship with Mihrimah revels in manipulation and facades for her to keep, because she has to "protect" her brothers. Rüstem never actually took account of her own feelings or opinions on matters, especially when what she proposed wasn't an opportunistic enough option for him to afford. Their interactions are mostly focused on the survival of the game and the actions that have to be taken to achieve that. He often puts an unbelievable amount of pressure on her, which while given because of the system they live in, hurt more than it helped. Their relationship was never allowed to flourish in a healthy manner and Mihrimah could never be truly herself in it, not even for a moment. The castle she lived in, her home, was merely full of tension every day, not a source of comfort. His stoic, serious cunning contrasts with her own spirit. Not to mention that it always seemed he considered his marriage to Mihrimah as a price, a goal he had finally achieved and I doubt that she wasn't aware of it to some extent. The root of the marriage is only political opportunism and no matter how hard you try, you simply cannot force a person to love someone they're with only out of sheer necessity, only for a purpose for "the greater good". Rüstem never did anything to earn Mihrimah's love and she shouldn't be hated for not loving him. This is what MC Rüstem is as a character, whether we like it or not, and he isn't a healthy person for Mihrimah. If she couldn't warm up to him when she fully got to know him in their alone time, that means something is missing. That means he just isn't for her and. that's. OKAY.

But there may be reasons why some people could dislike Mihrimah because of it. I offer my experience with cases I've encountered in forums: these people are usually very invested in Hürrem's character to the point they view everything she does as excusable, at the least, so of course they would want to justify Hürrem marrying Mihrimah to Rüstem. But plainly selfish political gain is no justification and that may leave cracks in their view of Hürrem and it all may disturb them to a great amount. That's why they channel this ire on Mihrimah and perhaps demand for her to warm up to Rüstem, so they get the justification Hürrem supposedly deserves, especially paralleled with Valide and Mahidevran's previous attempt to marry Aybige and Mustafa, who.. surprise, surprise (but not really), didn't love each other. There's another facet to this, with people seeing or wanting to see Mihri only as "her mother's daughter" and not wanting to marry, not loving Rüstem destroys that picture, because there's a "crack in the system", she doesn't listen to her mother, who obviously knows better and that could be disappointing or demotivating, given the expectations she has set when she defended her in E84. Or maybe they dislike Mihrimah for not loving Rüstem, because they do find something in him. They love "bad boys" and genuinely don't know why Mihrimah doesn't, either and that could make them see her as an annoyance. Or maybe they just anticipate more juicy scenes between her and Rüstem because of the probable chemistry between the two actors and if they watch it only for the spectacle (believe me, such people really exist!), they may insist that Mihrimah is only spoiled and ruined everything for them. Or maybe, again, people may find this insulting to the historical facts or whatnot and if Mihrimah didn't not stand him, this "mess" of writing could be fixed a little. The writers have ruined her character along with the history, according to them. It's absurd, I know and I don't get it, either, but the reasons are there, as far as I'm concerned. That still doesn't take away from the fact that this is the weirdest accusation you could throw at Mihrimah, with how Rüstem himself is.

You're right that Mihrimah has many other, vastly more offputting traits that she could be disliked for. Little Mihrimah is very brash and spoiled and entitled, to the point she gave her own mother a run for her money. That was gone when she grew up, but it would be understandable if some didn't actually believe the change, especially when she shows this side of hers again every now and then. She could be perceptive, but could also be prone to influence at the same time, sometimes to an annoying degree. There have been times where she has let her own bias lead her and that clouded her judgement in several occasions. She came to idealize her mother too much sometimes, as well. She was terribly insistent on her infatuation with Bali Bey and letting go of it took her very long. She didn't want to listen much to the enemies of her own mother. Her huge love for Bayezid prevented her from viewing Selim as objectively. She could be vengeful. She could be bossy. She couldn't fully face someone calling her out on her mistakes. (the confrontation with Selim in E139) She became so engrained to her castle life that when she was offered a way out, she didn't follow it. All these are very interesting character flaws for me, but I get why they might be a dealbreaker. But disliking or hating her for not loving Rüstem? Heck, hating her for her contribution to Mustafa's death alone is more valid than that! Disliking her for all these flaws piling up together is perfectly reasonable. But for this? It's strange.

[tanzmitmirsblog]

Life is a Pandora's box and the hope within Prometheus

  Is mythology merely a collection of fascinating legends, or does it have a purpose? Mythology is concerned with both the past and the present. It illuminates the path. Mythology explains how emotion may take control of a person. We can clearly perceive that the greatest enemies of humanity are passion, ambition, hatred, selfishness, and greed. A myth is an image with which we try to make sense of the world,” says Alan Watts. Beyond your imagination, these stories tell us that "the limits of life are beyond what you only know, learn from your past and guide your future." I can hear this whisper. "Myth and nature are the two great garments of the world; nature is the vibrant green garment that covers the planet, and myth is the multidimensional, multi-coloured fabric that constantly covers human culture."(Michael Meade) We can understand the meaningful expression of these words of Michael Meade more easily by expanding our knowledge pool. Nature is a gift given to the world, and man is the other gift that completes the world. He can contain every colour in his soul and turn the world into a work of art, or he can object to other colours and choose only black and go towards the depths of darkness. I would like to tell you about mythological stories that have inspired me. Mythology's brightest stars are Pandora's box and the Prometheus legend.     According to a legend, Zeus created Pandora, the first woman on Earth, as a punishment for humanity. This punishment for humanity was devastating and unkind like the great flood of Noah. When humanity forgot about its creators or ignored the gods, the gods were reminding themselves of such punishments. Zeus gave Pandora a box that she should never have opened. This box symbolized the personality of women. There was so much evil in the box, such as malice, hatred, anger, murder, and greed. If the box was opened, these evils would spread to the earth, and Pandora's curiosity prevailed and she opened the box. All evil has spread and swept the world. The great disaster was now within humanity. The box, which Zeus knowingly gave to a woman's curiosity in this story, was a great scourge for humanity. Besides all these evils in the box, there was only one good thing for humanity and that was hope. Mankind has never abandoned hope, and hope has been his only consolation. Instead of blaming Pandora, who opened the box, one should consider Zeus, who sent her for this purpose. For poor Pandora to succumb to her curiosity was the most unlikely thing that could happen to a mortal, but Zeus, who knew this, also knew what would destroy the human race, if you ask me, Zeus survived these evils and his jealousy became his most dangerous weapon. In this regard, Zeus, who continued this ugly reign like Cronus, who ate his sons so that his father would not heir to the throne and his power would not decrease, always succumbed to his feelings. Pandora's curiosity was an invisible mistake compared to what Zeus had done. "Hope? Hope is the last evil!" says Nietzsche. The fact that the last thing humanity clings to is hope, which actually informs them that it is the greatest evil done to them, but without hope, there would be no real reason for people to hold on. Of course, the thing that hurts the most is the disappointment caused by the lack of hope, but no matter how tired one gets, it is also important to be able to fight with the last hope left in one's hands and rely on that hope. Therefore hope, which Zeus saw as a huge bad power, was actually a light for humanity.      It would not be enough just to blame Pandora. For Zeus, his main target was Prometheus. Prometheus had been punished many years ago, by setting fire to humanity and making it higher than God. Zeus tied Prometheus to the hard rock at the foot of the Caucasus Mountains by force and violence with unshakable and unbreakable chains. Prometheus had helped Zeus in the battle with the titans, and this favour was quickly forgotten. Zeus' vengeance was enough to make him forget this great goodness. Zeus had insolence, arrogance, egocentric coarseness of human nature. He could have killed Prometheus instead of chaining him, but Zeus couldn't because he had an interest. There was a prophecy told to him. One day a boy would be born and take his throne from him. and only Prometheus knew who the boy's mother was. Zeus sent Hermes to find out this secret, but Prometheus resisted and did not tell the secret, despite all the torture, albeit in chains. showed that there can be a solution if there is willpower. At that moment, the god of gods left Zeus helpless. Prometheus was released generations later. Chiron was ready to die for Prometheus. Hercules slew the eagle and unchained Prometheus from the rock. We realize that even the enmity does not last forever when Zeus says that now this punishment may be enough and will set him free. Prometheus is the strongest character in this story, he is the symbol of justice and he represents never surrender, no matter how much pressure, no matter how to torture. While Prometheus was being held captive in chains, a beautiful and mysterious girl would visit him. This girl's name was IO. They would chat with Prometheus and talk about Zeus. Zeus falls in love with this girl and this love does not escape Hera's eyes. Suspecting Zeus, Hera assigns her servant Argus, who has 100 eyes, to keep him comfortable and control him. Knowing that his lies are useless, Zeus is watched by Argus even while he sleeps. Desperate Zeus turns her into a poor ugly starving animal to get close to her love. However, Argus still does not stop watching him. Finally, Zeus commissions his son Hermes, the messenger of the gods, to kill Argus. Hermes played sweetly upon a pipe of reeds. Argus was pleased at the sound and called to the musician to come nearer. Hermes made some of the hundred eyes sleepy, but some were always awake. Finally, Hermes killed him. If you believe that poor IO has been saved, you are mistaken about Hera's rage and envy. Hera sent a gad-fly to plague her, which stung her to madness. When IO told this to Prometheus, he tried to comfort her. She ran along the seas and lands. This part of the sea was called Bosporus. As she reached the Nile, Zeus would restore her to her earlier human form. She would bear a son called Epophus. IO’s descendant would be Hercules who was the one of the greatest heroes. Prometheus helped them. Hercules helped Prometheus at the same time, he gave Prometheus’ freedom. The good are rewarded. We realize that the evil characters aren't always the heroes, and that the good guys will return one day.     Gods and goddesses are another shape of humanity of current. They used their power to destroy somethings like big cities. Even today power wars have not finished. Someone who feels powerful wants to be mightier. Human or gods is trying to force somebody to abdicate. We are aware that a desire is worth more than a drop of blood. We see that neither hostility nor friendship last forever. Zeus who was the god of gods and Prometheus who was the saviour of man were the best friends, but Prometheus’ giving fire to humanity as a gift and knowing a prophecy about Zeus turned this friendship into enmity. At the present time, good friendships can become enmity for any reason. In past, Zeus left Prometheus in despair. Jealousy, the main concept that never changes in both present and past, played a role in almost every event. Jealousy creates slyness as a snake and cunning as a wolf. Today, every person who is jealous definitely brings evil things whatever happens. We have learned from Hera how jealousy is dangerous when it is combined with power. She used her power whenever Zeus fell in love with another woman. Beautiful Psyche’s sisters have showed that jealousy is disease and it spreads as fast as fire. They came her home and jealousy wrapped them like a fire. When Pandora opened the box, so many evil things showed up, but at the same time hope approved itself. People never abandon to hope. We are still aware that everything which is bad has a solution and we can defeat anything if there is hope. Hope is really the cure for everything. Just believing is enough to overcome most things. The eyes in the hearts should always remain open. Living as if a person would never die gives rise to endless desires. Today, many people have these desires; however, you can restrain your desire and everything is in your hands. You can abuse this opportunity and you can also use to good things. If a person is defeated by her or his anger and ambition, this short life swallows her or him. Mythology enables us to see what the truth or wrong is, the truth or evil is, and deceptions or deaths are. It helps us to know people who are captured all emotions. It shows that history always repeats and cruelty does not change in both past and present. Fate always overcomes everything. This never change in past or present. History leads to understand what truth is and what wrong is. This bridge always provides to understand the relationship between powerful and powerless. We are actor in own stage. We should play the best play for life. We should stay alive. It does not matter how it will be because we are not permanent in this life.

-Tanzmitmirsblog

[agwitow]

Dead Impressions Ch. 4

This is the first chapter where I’ve really started to deviate from the original, thoughts and comments much appreciated!

Read Chapter 1 Here | Read Previous Chapter Here

****

Once Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister just how very much she admired him. “He is just what a young man ought to be—sensible, good-humoured, lively—and I never saw such happy manners!”

“He is also handsome,” replied Elizabeth. “Which a young man ought likewise to be, if he possibly can.”

“I did not expect him to ask me to dance more than once.”

“No? I did. What could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help seeing that you were about five times as pretty as every other woman in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that.”

Jane laughed and threw a pillow at her. Lizzy caught it with a grin and threw it back, saying:

“Well, he is certainly very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person.”

“Lizzy!”

“You are a great deal too apt to like people in general, you know. All the world are good and agreeable in your eyes.”

“I would not wish to be hasty in censuring anyone.”

“And it makes you all the more lovely.”

They fell into bed, still chatting and laughing together as they recounted their various experiences of the evening. Their chatter had just begun to soften when Mrs. Bennet knocked on their door before stepping inside. One look at her face had both girls up and out of bed as quick as could be.

“Mama,” Jane cried. “Whatever is the matter?”

Mrs. Bennet tried to speak, but no sound came out. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then tried again. “Your Father. I—” She paused and took another deep breath. “I need your help.”

“What’s wrong?” Elizabeth asked.

Mrs. Bennet shook her head and gestured for them to follow her. They went down to Mr. Bennet’s office where a small lantern cast quivering shadows over the room. A bitter, sickly sweet scent hung heavy in the air and the only sounds were the gentle settling of the house and the soft hush of their breaths. Mr. Bennet’s head lolled to the side, as it often did when he dozed off while trying to read, and his skin looked washed out, with a tinge of grey. A single sob escaped from Jane, breaking the deathly stillness that had fallen over them.

“What do we do now?” she asked, her voice small and afraid.

“Help me carry him out to the old stillroom. We… we will need to keep him in there until he is settled,” Mrs. Bennet said, her voice trembling only a little.

They wrapped him in his blanket before blowing out the lantern, then struggled to carry him out. It was not that Mr. Bennet had been a very large man, or that the three ladies were particularly frail, but supporting someone who could move at least a little under their own power made such a task significantly easier. And with each of them acutely aware of every noise they made, lest they wake someone, it was a slow process to move him out to the ramshackle little building that had been a stillroom until Mr. Bennet had had one built onto the kitchen shortly after he and Mrs. Bennet married.

Though the outside of the building was overgrown with ivy and in dire need of repair, the interior was surprisingly tidy. An old board-and-trestle table took up much of the space and looked to have been freshly waxed. The shelves along the walls were slightly crooked, but straight enough to keep the things carefully placed on them from sliding to the floor.

“What is all of this?” Elizabeth asked.

“Hopefully everything we will need,” Mrs. Bennet replied.

Once they had Mr. Bennet’s body settled on the table, she sighed. “What we have to do next is not going to be pleasant.”

“What do you mean?” Jane asked.

Mrs. Bennet rolled her sleeves up and took down a jar, some rags, and an old knife from the shelves. “We must prepare his body now—it will not be possible to do after he rises.”

“So he does have the virus,” Lizzy said.

“Of course. I would be very surprised if any of our generation did not.”

Jane frowned. “How can that be?”

“The walking virus is not just passed from being attacked by a ghoul. If it was, there would not be any risk of an outbreak starting from an improperly interred body. No. There is some other way the virus is transferred.”

“But is there not the possibility Father does not have it?” Jane persisted.

Mrs. Bennet shook her head and pulled open his shirt to reveal a faint, puckered scar on his shoulder. “He survived one of those outbreaks as a child. The parsonage in Meryton has kept a list of everyone in Heartforshire who has been directly exposed for many years now, in the hopes of preventing such incidents. And yet, here we are.”

“When…when will he rise?” Jane whispered.

“No sooner than three days. Five, if we are in luck.”

Elizabeth eyed the various things Mrs. Bennet had squirreled away in preparation for this very day. “What do we need to do?”

Mrs. Bennet drew in a deep breath, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment as she steeled herself. “His body must be washed, fluids drained, organs replaced with straw and sawdust and herbs, cuts sewn shut, and a special balm worked into his skin.”

“Oh, is that all?” Lizzy asked.

Mrs. Bennet glowered. “It is the minimum we must do. If there is time, it would be best if we could soak his body in a ghastly mix of spirits and oils after he is… is drained. And then a different mix before the balm is applied.”

Jane paled and sagged against the wall. “Oh, my.”

Lizzy shot her a worried frown. “What else needs to be done, beside tending to the body?”

“If we do not get the body treated, then he will begin to rot and this will all be for naught!”

“I know, Mama,” she said, pulling upon all of her patience. “But if people realize Father is… missing… then it will also be for naught. There are three of us. We do not all need to tend to his… to him.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Ah. Yes. Oh, how are we to keep everyone from suspecting? A fortnight is a long time for no one to see him! Oh, my dear Mr. Bennet, why must you have died now? You should still be here to vex me for many years more!”

Jane and Elizabeth wrapped her in a hug as tears spilled down her cheeks. Their own were hardly dry as they shared the grief of having lost someone so very dear to them. When they were able to compose themselves, they drew apart and each took several deep breaths to further calm themselves.

“Father regularly spent most of the day secluded in his office. That will help hide his absence,” Elizabeth said. “Mary might wonder, but Kitty and Lydia can easily enough be distracted by trips to Meryton, or attending teas with various acquaintances.”

“I can let a few know we wish for them to expand their circle of acquaintances,” Jane offered. “It will only take a few days for such news to spread and, I daresay, they will receive more invites than they will know what to do with. And I am sure we can prevail on Mary to accompany them.”

Mrs. Bennet nodded. “And I will pass on a similar desire to Mrs. Phillips. She is a devoted aunt and will surely enjoy introducing the girls to all who have not yet had the pleasure.”

“That is one part dealt with. What of Mr. Bingley? You invited him to dinner and even if he can be distracted by pleasant conversation, there are others of his party who will not.”

“Oh! What horrid timing! At least with so many at Netherfield with him, he is likely to forget that promise for a time, and we must not remind him,” she said. “Dearest Jane, if he favours you as I suspect he must—and it is not just from motherly affection—then you will surely be invited to Netherfield often. Pray, do your best to keep such invitations coming from their house with no expectation from ours.”

“Mama, it would be rude to not return an invitation of our own!” Jane protested.

“Oh, very well. Then invite them for a walk, or a picnic. Something they would not expect to see your Father at.”

“And the Lucases? The maids and cook?” Elizabeth prompted.

Mrs. Bennet frowned, wringing her hands. “I do not know. Oh, I do not know! What can we do? The charade will be over before it has even begun!”

“Calm, Mama,” Jane soothed. “We will think of something. Do not fret so.”

She nodded and gave her daughters a tremulous smile. “Thank you, my dears. You should get your rest—I will see to this first part myself.”

“You do not need to do this alone,” Jane said, though there was a decided sickly tinge to her complexion.

“Thank you, but it will give me a chance to say goodbye. I… it would be best you did not see.”

Lizzy nodded. Mrs. Bennet had a hollow in her heart that needed to be filled several times over with tears—a similar one nestled within Lizzy herself—and it was a pain that was hard to face with others nearby. She gave her Mother another hug before pulling Jane away to seek their beds. There would be more than enough to keep them busy in the following days. They could give Mrs. Bennet the space she needed this night.

#

Their sleep was fitful and oft interrupted by quiet bouts of crying. Elizabeth gave up any pretense of sleeping shortly before dawn and left Jane to gain whatever more rest she might. The house was mostly quiet, with the cook only have begun the day’s work. She slipped down to her parents’ room and knocked softly. No response greeted her so she eased the door open.

Mrs. Bennet lay curled atop the coverlet, her cheeks red and blotchy from her tears and her breath coming in little pants as if even in her sleep she were fighting back tears. Elizabeth fetched an extra blanket and tucked it around her mother, pausing to smooth some hair away from her face.

She gazed around the room, keenly feeling her father’s absence, even though she rarely intruded upon them there. An old jacket hung from a hook, ready for the next time Mr. Bennet had felt up to taking a walk. A walk that wouldn’t happen now. She bit her lip to keep her tears in check as she pulled the coat down and cradled it against her chest. The delicate scent of old books, candles, and a hint of the sweetmeats he’d liked best clung to the fabric. She swung the jacket around her shoulders and imagined she were sitting in his office with him.

“Mr. Bennet?” Lizzy turned to see her mother peering at her with red eyes. Upon realizing it wasn’t him, Mrs. Bennet slumped back against the pillows. “I thought for a moment he wasn’t gone.”

She moved to her Mother’s side and gave her a hug. “I am sorry for waking you, Mama.”

“Why are you wearing your Father’s jacket, Lizzy?”

“It reminded me of him,” she admitted.

Mrs. Bennet nodded. “It reminded me of him too.”

An idea lit inside Elizabeth and she stared down at the jacket covering her. It was a bit out of fashion, and certainly too long for her, dropping all the way to her ankles, but bulky enough to hide any shape beneath it. “Mama… if I hid my hair beneath a hat, would I look very much like Father?”

She frowned and pushed herself up until she were leaning against the headboard. “What nonsense are you talking about now, Lizzy?”

Giving the jacket a little shake, she turned her back to her Mother and asked, “Could I be mistaken for Father?”

A moment of silence followed the question as Mrs. Bennet realized what her second eldest was suggesting. “You are much shorter than your Father, but if we gave you a cane, perhaps others might simply think he is stooped.”

Lizzy nodded and fetched up a short hat with a brim that sagged ever-so-slightly. She twisted her hair atop her head and pulled the hat over, wriggling it until it was settled firmly.

“Turn up the jacket collar too, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet instructed as she searched the wardrobe for a cane that might be used. Once the cane was found, the two women studied the effect in the mirror. “It will not fool anyone who sees you up close, but I daresay it would be enough at a distance.”

“Gloves, Mama,” she suggested, wiggling her fingers. “I have no ink stains. It might not be noticed, but better to hide my hands regardless.”

Mrs. Bennet patted her cheek. “You are very clever, Lizzy dear.”

Finally dressed to meet both of their approvals, they left the bedroom together. Mrs. Bennet popped into the kitchen to fetch one of the previous day’s biscuits and give the cook a falsely cheerful declaration that Mr. Bennet was feeling up for a walk. With the biscuit in one hand and the cane in the other, Lizzy set off to wander down the least travelled roads of the neighbourhood, pausing to give an occasional wave to some person or other, before heading home again.

(Read Chapter 5)

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[addictedtomanga]

Shoujo manga recommendations - social gap

1.      Kiss/Hug

Ryuu, a super-business-like transfer student from England with black hair and blue eyes just arrived! During the night of the Tanabata festival, Ryuu and Yukino became attracted to each other at first sight. He then declares, "You will be mine!" This brought confusion to Yukino, who has zero experience in love. But could she actually be falling in love?

2.      Last Game

Nothing is beyond Naoto Yanagi, heir to the Yanagi business conglomerate. Idolized for his athletic and intellectual competence, looks and wealth, Naoto lived like a king during his elementary school days—then entered Mikoto Kujou, a plain, gloomy-looking transfer student.

Due to her low financial status, Naoto was initially apathetic towards Mikoto. But despite having just arrived at his school, she completely eclipsed him in everything by consistently scoring top marks in exams and placing first in athletic events. After a brief confrontation with her that left him shocked, Naoto vowed to outdo her no matter the cost.

Ten years later, they are now students attending the same college. Having failed to defeat Mikoto throughout middle and high school, Naoto decides they will have one last game: if he can make Mikoto fall in love with him and then break her heart, it will be his victory. However, he finds himself falling in love with her instead...

3.      ReRe Hello

Ririko is a hardworking girl who has been performing the role of a mother in her household after the death of her own one when she was five. When her father, a handyman, is stricken with illness and admitted to a hospital, Ririko decides to take up the role of a handyman to help her father's business in his absence. Her first client is a rich teenage boy with high expectations of his helpers. Will she be able to satisfy him?

4.      Sabaku no Harem

Mishe a strong willed girl raised from poverty has caught Prince Kallum's attention. Attention as in, "you will become one of my concubines," thus begins Mishe's adventures into Prince Kallum's world.

5.      Shitsuij-sama no Okiniiri

Himura Ryou, who after losing her parents, is taken in by her grandparents who are from a distinguished family. Through them, she transfers to the famous Souseikan Academy. On the first day at school, Ryou receives guidance from a guy in a tuxedo when she gets lost in the vast garden of the academy. Then she learns that he's Kanzawa Hakuou of the shutsuji apprentice course, which is also known as "B class," Ryou...!?

6.      The Maid at my House

Runako is studying hard to someday succeed as owner of her family's maid dispatching service company. One day, a request comes in from an entertainment production company and shockingly, it's for their super-popular star, Seirei Moroboshi! But could it be that the image he projects on the TV is far different than his true secret face...?!

7.      Adele to Darius

Adele was just another maltreated slave girl being sold at the country market. She was sold one day to become an addition to the harem of the country’s King of Cruelty. Rumor has it that the once the King takes a slave girl for the night, he then executes her in the morning. Once in the harem, she sees that all girls who are called into the King’s chamber really do not return. To fight against this fate, Adele resolves to volunteer to be called to the King’s chamber and find out the truth. But things are not what they seem…

8.      Boku no Ie ni Oide

In order to live a normal high-school life, Mirei started her first part-time job. But after receiving her first paycheck, she almost kills a highly-ranked bishounen…?! An encounter with a super poor and pessimistic innocent girl, is this a beautiful miracle?!

9.      Hana ni Arashi

Even though her body has unusual ability, Kunimi Riko is still (trying to be) a normal high school girl. One day, a guy suddenly came to see her. He's Tachibana Ran, the heir of the world leading super millionaire Tachibana family! A high tension romance between Ran, who suddenly proposed, and Riko, who turned him down. 

10.  Ibara no Okite

Earl Craven’s territory is laden with rules to abide – when the earl himself walks in the hallway, all servants present should turn their back on him, avoiding his gaze, which is why even his servants call him “the devil”… except for one. Priscilla is a maid in Earl Robert Craven’s abode and is the only one who captured the young earl’s tender heart. But what happens when a rich woman comes and calls the earl her future husband for the sake of business? Will their love prevail, or will their social status hinder them? This is a story about the struggles and trials of the star-crossed lovers.

11.  Nikoniko x punpun

Ootani Rin, a girl from a poor family due to her father's gambling, is attending a high school on a scholarship. She has been taking care of her sisters and mother ever since her father ran away. Her school doesn't allow its students to work part time, but she's not worried about it since all the students at her school are rich. However, one boy takes an interest in her, and finds out about her part-time job. To keep him quiet, she has to make him a bento.

12.  No rest for the poor, fall in love Botan

Botan, the poor girl in an exclusive school is on top of the class. But the uber rich boy, who is second in rank in school proposes to her that if he places in the first place, he get her to do what he wants. Can Botan beat him? And what is it that the boy wants from her?

13.  The honeybee earl and the flower dress

Dahlia is the only female dressmaker in Galleria. She kidnapped and commissioned by the infamous "Honeybee Earl", who is known to jump from woman to woman like a capricious bee jumps from flower to flower, to make the ultimate wedding dress for his fiancee. Can Dahlia complete the dress without getting stung by the Honeybee Earl?

14.  Ouran high school host club

At Ouran High School, an academy where only the children of the rich and powerful attend, there exists a club consisting of the most elite of the student body: the legendary Host Club. Within the club's room, six beautiful, bored boys spend their time entertaining equally beautiful and bored girls.

Haruhi Fujioka, a poor scholarship student, has no interest in the Host Club—until she breaks a valuable vase in their clubroom. After being mistaken for a boy, Haruhi is forced by Kyouya Ootori to work for the Host Club to repay her debt. Tamaki Suou, the princely leader of the club, eagerly takes her under his wing to teach her the ways of the host.

Things, however, are never quite so simple with the Host Club around. Even the most mundane events can turn into huge spectacles with the likes of prankster twins Hikaru and Kaoru Hitachiin, stoic Takashi Morinozuka, and sweet Mitsukuni "Hunny" Haninozuka. The crazy adventures of the Host Club are just beginning, and Haruhi must learn how to survive in the glitzy world of the hosts.

15.  Kaichou wa maid-sama

Seika High School was an all-boys school, but it has since turned co-ed. Misaki Ayuzawa is the first female student council president of the school, eventually earning the nickname of the "Demon President" due to her mastery of Aikido and imposed iron rule.

However, Misaki harbors an embarrassing secret—she has to work at a maid café to support her family. If anybody from her school was to find out, her reputation would be utterly destroyed. And after Takumi Usui—the most popular boy at school—discovers her secret, that might just happen. Kaichou wa Maid-sama! follows their story as they spend more time together and eventually begin to understand each other's secrets.

16.  Special A

Have you ever known someone who was better than you at everything you did? Hikari does. She's known Kei since they were both six years old and he's surpassed her at everything. Now they are the top two students in an extremely prestigious high school, with Kei holding firmly to that number one position, and Hikari is still determined to beat him, no matter what it takes.

17.  Bitter Trap (TAKAGI Shigeyoshi) 

Nanao came from a rich family before their business failed. Now the only hope for her family to pay off their debts is if she can cement a marriage with the prestigious Takatsuki family within a week. How will Nanao overcome this problem when one of the three eligible Takatsuki men is her former arrogant schoolmate, Yoshito, who completely distrusts people? And did we forget to mention that Nanao is already the ninety-ninth candidate for the position of future wife?!

18.  Usotsuki Ouji no Karekano Gokko

A poor commoner chatterbox accidentally entered the celebrity high school and the unthinkable happened...?

19.  Takane to hana

Sixteen-year-old Hana Nonomura is forced to be the substitute for her older sister Yukari at a miai: a meeting between two people considering an arranged marriage. Hana's prospective suitor turns out to be the handsome heir of the wealthy Takaba company, Takane Saibara, who is 10 years her senior. He promptly shows disdain toward Hana and, in response, she tells him that she is equally unimpressed by his status and personality.

Hana believes that her actions at the meeting should have put an end to the discussions about marriage with Takane. To her surprise, not only does the man want to proceed with negotiations but he also starts to show interest in her! This is just the beginning of a special relationship between two polar opposites!

[geekydane]

Talk to me - Tommy Shelby x reader - chapter 11

Masterlist

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You hated hospitals. The smell of antiseptic and the sterile white and cream colours everywhere only made you newly regained memory so much more unbearable. The fact that you were here for Tommy was the only reason you hadn’t run away. It was all so surreal. You had actually killed those men who shot him and you tried to figure out how you felt about it, but at that moment you still felt nothing. You didn’t feel bad or feel sorry for them. It was exactly the same you had done to those men that had held you captured years back.

It was like your brain had been reset and everyone had told you that you were an innocent little girl who was kidnapped and raped until you were ruined. You were told how the police found you and brought you to safety but you remember now how you clawed your way through the men when you snapped. Used their own weapons against them. There was only so many times a woman could let herself be violated before she took care of those who did it. You remember how you saw red and everything just happened in a blur. Exactly like when those men shot Tommy. How many men were in that room back then? How many lives did you take? And why didn’t you feel anything towards them? Who were you?

The Langstons must have known who you were and what you did. That might have been why they seemed kind of afraid of you and didn’t really try to connect with you in any way. But did they tell Polly when she took you in? Mrs. Langston spoke with her. Of course she knew. You thought back to the first time you met Polly and what she said to Tommy when he found out you were hired.

I’m sure Y/n will be very useful for us in the future.

“Miss, we’ll need you to leave. You are not on any of the lists of family members.” A nurse waved a clipping board in front of you and succeeded in getting you out of your head. You looked up at her. She looked around your age and she did look a little nervous as John and Arthur looked at her from the other side of the room. None of them had said anything to you since you got to the hospital. They staff had tried to kick you out since you came. It wasn’t like it was visiting hour at that point. John and Arthur weren’t supposed to be there either. But you guessed that the staff was more afraid of them because they checked in as the Shelbys or it was because they were actually family and you were not. You just couldn’t imagine being anywhere else when Tommy was at the hospital. You did your best to ignore the nurse and stayed in your seat.

“Miss. You need to leave, you…” You stood up in a beat and the poor nurse flinched. Couldn’t she just let you stay? Maybe your name wasn’t Shelby, but you came along with the brothers after all. John and Arthur didn’t say anything to the nurse to help you though. Did they want her to kick you out? Did they dislike you after what you did? You couldn’t possible think they were god’s best children themselves, so why would they care if you beat those guys? You were sure they had done the same a lot of times before.

You started pacing back and forward as the two brothers looked at you and the nurse looked around, maybe to see if anyone could help her get you out. In the next moment a doctor, you recognised from when you got to the hospital and Tommy was carried away, walked towards you and finally John and Arthur reacted to something.

“He is stabilized. Family may see him, but he’s very sleeping. He’s doing his to stay awake though. He’s very stubborn.” The doctor chuckled but he stopped as soon he looked at the brothers. They both stared him down with a sour face and it was like he visibly shrank half a meter. You looked after them as they followed the doctor to Tommy’s room and you were left alone in the waiting room.

It didn’t take more than 10 minutes before the doctor walked back into the waiting room. You were wondering why Arthur and John wasn’t with him so you stood up. He approached you and you saw how his glasses were crocked on his face and his coat was very wrinkled around the collar.

“M-miss? Mr. Shelby wants to see you.” You walked up to him as fast as possible and you were sure you saw him flinch when you stopped. So, which one of the ‘Mr. Shelbys’ had threatened him? You gestured for him to lead the way and you were led down a long hallway with many rooms full of patients. Nurses walked back and forward and eyed you as you went down and stood in front of a door.

“They are in there. Good day to you.” The doctor disappeared down the hall before you got to look at him. Eagerly you opened the door and almost slammed it into the wall. The room was small with only a single bed. Some of the rooms you passed had 6 beds so Tommy got special treatment. Good. John was sat on a chair next to the bed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Arthur stood near the window and looked out on the streets. You didn’t know why but you were afraid of looking at the bed. You were suddenly afraid of what you would see and how bad he was hurt. You couldn’t remember where the bullet hit him or how long it took for you to get to the hospital. Was he near dead? Did he barely survive? Could he still go die on you? So many horrible things went through your anxious brain instead of actually looking at Tommy and see if he was alright. Luckily the sound of his voice brought you to finally look up.

“Y/n?” He mumbled your name but the sound of it dragged you towards him in the bed. He was lying in a position that looked too much like how people were laid in a coffin. He lay very still and with his hands folded on top of his stomach. As you stood next to the bed his head fell to the side in a tiring way and he opened his eyes slowly to look at you. You could feel the tears pressing on as a little smile tugged in his lips for a second before he relaxed again and closed his eyes. You were afraid of hurting him, still not remembering where he was hit, so you sat down very slowly on the edge on the bed. His brothers both stared at you as you put your hand on top of his folded ones. He quickly took your hand and caressed it with his thumb.

“I’m all right. Nothing I haven’t tried before.” Tommy said quietly. There was a long pause afterwards where the two of you only existed in your own little bubble. You sniffled when the tears started to fall and Tommy opened his eyes again.

“Y/n. You said my name. You shouted my name.” He lifted his hand from yours and reached out for your face. You leaned in so that he could caress your cheek. It was so uncharacteristic of him to show this kind of affection when anyone was nearby. You looked at Arthur out of the corner of your eye and he was staring at you.

“Can you please… say my name again?” Tommy whispered. You took a unsteady breath as you tried to wrap your head around actually speaking again. You couldn’t. You didn’t know how you did it back then. Maybe it was the panic that made your brain forget all the voices that have kept you quiet for so long. You wanted to switch them off for Tommy again but you just couldn’t. The fact that you couldn’t do that one little thing he asked of you when he was in a hospital bed made you feel so useless. They would all be better off without you. You weren’t useful for anyone.

“Please.” He whispered and you pulled away from his touch. You couldn’t let him touch you now that you couldn’t give him everything he deserved. You didn’t deserve him. You shook your head and almost started bowling which suddenly made Tommy hyper aware. He defied his pain to actually pull himself up in a half sitting position, leaning against the wall. His quilt fell down and reviled his ribcage covered in bandages. John quickly jumped from the chair as you backed away.

“Tommy. Take it easy, will ya?” John said with a frown, as he adjusted Tommy’s pillow behind him.

“Will you please leave?” Tommy said a little louder than he did before. His voice was raspy but still strong considering what he has been through. John looked almost insulted but he didn’t get so say anything before Tommy scowled at him.

“Get out. You too Arthur!” He growled and the two brothers took their time to get to the door but eventually they left. Not without giving you a side glare first though. It felt like an eternity side you were alone with Tommy. It was actually only the morning before that you woke up in Tommy’s arms.

Tommy didn’t say anything but gave you time to calm down again. Even though the sight of him with bandages and heavy bags under his eyes wasn’t something that you were used to, it was always very calming being around him. You slowly stopped the tears from falling and when the only disturbance in your breath was small hiccups, Tommy reached out a hand for you. An invitation. You walked to him and let him pull you closer to him. You ended up sitting next to him in the bed. You made sure not to touch the bandages as he let you rest your head on his shoulder. A strong arm around your waist.

“It’s hard to see you struggling, but you have no idea how much it meant to me, that you called out my name. The sound of your voice surprised me so much that for a minute I forgot that it hurts to be shot.” He made a struggled sound that might have been a laugher if it didn’t hurt him to laugh.

“I was hoping that you would be able to speak now. That you finally prevailed whatever you are fighting with. I guess it’s not that simple.” He squeezed you a little closer and kissed your forehead. He was so gentle it was hard to imagine that he was a raging mad mafia boss with war trauma.

“It doesn’t matter. Now we know that you can do it. We’ll work through it. Together. If we just move forward slowly. If you will just take small steps. Small steps. Will you do that? For me?” His voice lowered to almost a whisper in the end but you we touched by every word. You didn’t know how aware Tommy was about your struggles. How you felt dealing with them. It made your heart swell ten times for the man and also made you determent and nod to his question. You would do it for him if not for yourself. That was also why you bend your neck so your lips almost touched his ear.

“Yes Tommy.” You said very silently, but not yet a whisper. You wanted him to her your voice because he deserved it and he begged for it. He stiffened for a moment as the realization hit him. He turned to you with gleaming eyes and looked from your eyes to your lips. Before you started to overthink anything you gave him the acceptance and leaned in. He met you halfway and first gave you a soft peck on your lips. But when he knew that it was okay he finally deepened the kiss and gave you the fullest he was able to in his state. He drew you closer so that you were almost pulled half on top of him. His free hand grabbing your leg and caressed the skin exposed from the dress creeping up over your knees.

“Mr. Shelby, you need to…” The moment was ruined in an instant as a young nurse appeared in the doorway. She stopped when she saw the two of you. You pulled away quickly, which only made your leg that was half draped over Tommy, touch the side of his ribs that was bandaged. He hissed in pain and the nurse jump to him but Tommy was furious.

“GET OUT! GET OUT!” He shouted at her. The nurse stuttered and almost fell over her own feet as she turned and ran out the door, slamming it after her. Tommy huffed angrily and you stood facing the window, too embarrassed to look at him again. Someone caught you being all over him. What didn’t that make you look like? He got shot and was fighting for his life. He was still in pain and here you were in his bed, half on top of him and hurt him in the doing.

“Y/n. Come here.” He was still huffing in pain but you turned to him, still looking at the floor and the arms crossed.

“It’s not your fault someone shot me and it hurt like hell. I want to enjoy your company a bit longer before I have to rest. Please come here.” He was holding out his hand to you and you accepted it even though you still felt a little embarrassed. He pulled you in and you sat down again next to him. You made sure that you didn’t end in the same position again by sitting up a bit straighter, so that Tommy’s couldn’t reach up. He sighed and rested his head on your cheat. You ran your hair thought his very untamed hair like it was a reflex.

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

You weren’t much for leaving Tommy there but Arthur stayed behind with him while you drove home to Birmingham with John. It was weird as the sun was beginning to rise and it was kind of dark. You didn’t know what to feel about being alone in the dark with John. He wasn’t a danger, you knew that, but he wasn’t tommy either. He didn’t say much for a long while. He kept his eyes on the road and he kept a toothpick in his mouth that he moved from side to side once in a while.

“I heard you shout.” He suddenly said out of the blue. You turned to look at him but he still just kept his eyes on the road. What did he except from you then? That you randomly started to chat like you never stopped? The uncertainty made you uncomfortable so you just stared out on the road.

“I get it, you know. The adrenaline. It can make someone do things they never think they would ever do. We’ve all done that. Even though I don’t understand you completely, I think you are good for Tommy. He seems very happy.” You hadn’t seen John as the sentimental type, but you guess he had a side to him. He did have both a wife and children of course. Tommy had told you, in one of many conversations in the bedroom, that John’s first wife died while they were in France and Esme was his second wife. He even tried to marry Lizzie but Tommy didn’t want that for some reason. John must know about love and how it felt. Maybe he saw something in the two of you. It made you hopeful and you smiled to yourself. John finally squinted at you and you saw how he started to smile too.

“You all right, ey. Just don’t forget who we are. What happened to Tommy tonight will be attempted many times over. But after what I saw you do, I think you are able to handle it. But always be aware.”

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

It felt strange when you got home to the Shelby residence and Polly was there to greet you. She walked right pass John and engulfed you in a hug that you were not prepared for. You stiffened completely and counted until she loosened her grip on you and gentle grabbed your face.

“I’m so sorry that you were dragged into all this shit again.” She said and glared in John’s direction.

“Tommy was the one they shot at.” John grunted as he lit a cigarette.

“Oh Tommy is already full of holes. I’m not far from imagining Whiskey will escape his body through bullet holes soon enough.” Polly sighed and took a look down your body.

“You need to take a long and relaxing bath, my dear. You just stay in Tommy’s room for now. I’m sure he will appreciate that you are here when he comes home.” He pushed you gently towards the stairs and you started walking up slowly and slightly confused about the very motherly greeting you just experienced. Polly left to the join John in the other room and you stopped on the stairs as you heard her talk to him in a very low voice.

“Did she really do it? She doesn’t seem very agitated.”

“I pulled her away from the poor bastards. If I hadn’t stopped her, she would have pulled them to pieces. Limb for limb.” John laughed and Polly shushed him.

“I know her story but I’m just having a hard time imagining her going berserk like that. But I guess if she’s pushed too far...” You didn’t want to here anymore about their thoughts of you so you walked the rest of the way up the stairs as quietly as possible. You didn’t need to start doubting yourself any more than you already did. You went into Tommy’s room and it was strange to be there alone. You say on his bed for a while just sitting, not knowing what to do with yourself. Then you remembered that Polly had told you to take a bath. You went into Tommy’s wash room. The smell of his cologne hang heavy in the air. You went to the tub and started filling it with water. The water was not very warm but it was the middle of the night so it must have been a long time since someone put coal in the boiler. Touching the water to feel the temperature you finally took a look down at yourself. Your sleeves on the beautiful long dress were stained crimson. Slashes of red covered the skirt and you immediately started shaking. You always thought about how you looked and presented yourself. How could you have gone around for so long smeared in blood? What did people not think of you? But then you remembered that you actually killed someone… again. The unsettling feeling or horror and realization finally hit you and you felt numb as you pulled off the dress and let yourself sink into the water. You stayed there until the water was icy cold.

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

You didn’t sleep at all. You had tried to settle down in Tommy’s bed but it felt wrong being there alone. You had left the water when your teeth started to clatter. When the sun started to rise you started to get up and realized that the only clothing you had at Tommy’s place was the sleepwear and the bloodied dress. You put on the night dress and felt guilty for roaming Tommy’s closet for a white button up to put on over the dress. At least you were a bit covered up. You went downstairs to see if anyone was awake. You hoped to find Polly or maybe Ada. They could maybe get some of your clothing from your apartment so you could get ready to work. You half stumbled down the stairs, realizing how exhausted you were, when Polly walked out the sitting room, already dressed.

“Oh y/n. Why are you up already?” She asked and looked a little worried. You pointed to the door that led to the office building and she frowned at you.

“You are not going to work. You should be in bed and get some rest on top of the night you have just had. I will send someone to get you some clothing. Go back to bed.” She sounded like a concerned mother but at the same time vert demanding. You didn’t want to fight and really wasn’t able to, so you turned around and went up the stairs again. You lie down and a moment later a maid came to collect your dress. You pointed at the wash room and she bowed for you before disappearing out there. You could hear how she gasped when she saw the state of your dress. You drew the duvet further over your head until she disappeared again. A little later Polly came up with some food and assured you that you should stay in bed. You really wanted to tell her that you didn’t want to be alone, but even though you had been able to say a few words, you still couldn’t make yourself speak to Polly. Maybe not yet.

You didn’t know how many hours you had been either laying around in the bed or walking around studying every single thing in Tommy’s room. His war photo was framed and was on the table next to the sofa along with his multi coloured liquor bottle. He was very handsome in his uniform but there was a certain stiffness in his posture that he didn’t have anymore. It was like he was much more carefree in the time you have known him. Or maybe not carefree, but… free. You took the frame and dusted it off with your fingertips and took it with you to the bed. You didn’t know why you liked it so much. It didn’t look like your Tommy but you wouldn’t mind seeing your Tommy in a uniform.

“Having fun without me?” The ruff voice came from the doorway and in came Tommy limping with a crutch under one arm and Arthur under the other. They shuffled around so much that you could understand how you hadn’t heard them get up the stairs. Maybe it was the comfort of Tommy’s room that made you feel so secure that you wasn’t hyper aware of every little sound. You hadn’t thought about that before then. You hurriedly stood up and walked towards him. Them. Arthur was there too. You let Arthur place Tommy down on the bed and Tommy hissed in pain as he hit the soft mattress. You took the crutch and placed it next to the bed.

“Take care of him.” Arthur said and inhaled sharply. He was looking the other way like he was trying to hide his face that showed whatever feeling that was behind those words. You nodded but he didn’t look your way before he was out of the door. You turned all of your attention to Tommy that was trying to lift his legs up onto the bed but the pain was clear on his face.

“Let me help you.” You said without thinking and Tommy stopped all movement and he widened his eyes.

“I can’t get use to you speaking to me.” He mumbled and even thought you knew it wasn’t meant to be negative, you couldn’t stop your body from reacting. You breathed in sharply and Tommy noticed.

“That came out wrong. I love hearing your voice. It works better than any medicine they gave me in that shitty hospital. The shortage of medication so many years after the war is still ghastly.” You helped Tommy get his legs up on the bed so that he could lie down. You were very careful and went slower every time the frown on his face deepened. You put a pillow behind his back as he leaned against the headboard. You went to the other side of the bed as Tommy picked up the framed picture of him.

“Were you that lonely?” He said with a hint of a laugher and you blushed. You weren’t embarrassed that you had taken the photography but what he might be suggestion you had done with it made it…

“I’m kidding. Come here.” He made a strained sound as he reached over and placed the framed photo one the nightstand. You shuffled close to him on the bed and let him drag you into his side. You made sure not to touch the area around the bullet wound and put your hand in his chest instead. He apparently took it as an invitation and went for a kiss. It surprised you with the suddenness and you instinctively moved away from him. He frowned by your actions and you regretted it immediately.

“I’m sorry I just thought that maybe now…” He trailed off. He started to remove his arm from around you but you grabbed him before he could move away further. You snuggled your head into his chest and tried to hold onto him without actually hurting him.

“No I’m sorry. It’s a habit.” You mumbled into his shirt. He hummed at that and you could feel the vibration in his chest.

“Keep that habit, because men are pigs. But I can be the exception.” You let Tommy lift up your head and he attached his lips to your again. This time you just let it happened and melted into him like you had done that for years. It felt strangely normal and okay even though you couldn’t remember the last time you had been intimate in any way with anyone. A feeling of belonging came over you as Tommy deepened the kiss as much as he could in the awkward angle you were kept in, because of his bullet wound. The bullet wound…

“Tommy?” You pulled away from him and the sight of him licking his upper lip almost made your brain go numb for a second and you forgot your question. Tommy noticed how intensely you were watching him and he chuckled. It made you snap back and you looked down at your hands that Tommy had intertwined slowly doing the kiss. You collected your thoughts and tried to figure out the longest sentence you had said in many years. The anxiety was still lingering over you, even though you felt comfortable with Tommy.

“How are we going to get back at Mick King?” Tommy stiffened a little but he just huffed and relaxed again.

“Don’t you worry about that. That is my job to figure out.”

“Did Arthur tell you what I did?” You asked quietly.

“…Yeah he did.” Tommy said with no hint of disgust but not any hint of any other emotion. He was hard to read sometimes.

“I remember stuff from back then now.” The both of you became quiet for a long moment. Tommy squeezed your sides a little in a comforting manner.

“The day I got here… I overheard Polly call me useful. Was that because of what happened… back then?” Tommy’s thumb was rubbing calming circles on the back of your hand but he remained silent.

“Tommy… Tell me.”

“Yes... Yes, Mrs. Langston told us your story and that was why Polly wanted to take you in. But you didn’t show that side of you. Not before…”

“They hurt you Tommy.” You explain yourself, interrupting Tommy that huffed.

“It was very dangerous what you did and even though you have proved you can take care of yourself I don’t want you to bring yourself in that kind of danger again, okay? That’s an order.” Now it was your time to huff.

“Let’s leave it here. I’m tired and you shouldn’t think about revenge.” Tommy said and before you knew it you were kissing again. This time you were more prepared and let him take the control. You really didn’t want to hurt him, but you trusted him to stop when it hurts. He pulled you on top of his lap and you could feel your own body react to his hands that slowly ran up and down your sides. You held onto the back of his neck to pull yourself closer to him and bit down his button lip. He growled like an animal and his breath became heavier.

“I’m gonna hurt myself if we don’t take it slow.” He acknowledged and you nodded. And in that moment when your forehead touched Tommy’s, you knew you were not only going to fight for that man, you were going to fight beside him, even if he wanted it or not. You were going to get your revenge and just the taste of the word was sweet to you. You just hoped that you could actually control your inner demon and never hurt anyone of those you loved.

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[ilikeyoshi]

ITS BEEN A FEW DAYS I HAD A BUSY WEEKEND anyway prompt 13 was made for me and my obsession with azem

5.3 spoilers, 950 words

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oneirophrenia

[ ō-nī′rə-frē′nē-ə, -frĕn′ē-ə ]

noun

A mental state that is characterized by hallucinations and other disturbances and is associated with prolonged deprivation of sleep, sensory isolation, or psychoactive drugs.

L'aiha hadn't slept much since the Seat of Sacrifice.

As much as she'd like to say it wasn't for lack of trying, that'd be a lie. She avoided her own bed like the plague, to say nothing of all else she'd begun avoiding.

It couldn't be helped, at times. Sleep deprivation was a powerful force, one that could drag her into its clutches eventually, no matter how hard she fought it.

Then L'aiha would see her.

The smoldering eyes, the sunlight-white hair, the scarred, resentful face.

"Answer me."

L'aiha would wake as fast as she'd passed out, cold with sweat and the image of someone more herself than she seared into her mind. She'd clutch the crystal obsessively worn around her neck, a symbol of the sun glowing in it like her phantom's eyes.

No, she would not answer. She was much too afraid.

Y'shtola caught her fervently packing her things one day. She might have been blind, but the sound and the anxiety rung clearer than any sight could've.

"Aiha?" she called, startling when L'aiha's response was a loud yelp of alarm. "What in the world are you doing?"

"I—" L'aiha struggled for an answer. How to explain the things she'd been seeing? Much as she longed to blame the Echo, these visions were closer. They were memories. "I have to go. Away—just for a while."

"I beg your pardon?" Never was Y'shtola one to tolerate secrecy; as soon as she caught a whiff of it, she would track it to its source. Needless to say, such was the case twofold whensoever L'aiha tried to hide something from her. "Go where, exactly? Why?"

"I can't—" L'aiha's hands shook, shutting her luggage despite not finishing her packing. "I don't know, I just can't stay here—with the aether, the—"

"Okay," Y'shtola said; L'aiha jumped when the sorceress's hands rested on her arms. Y'shtola softened her voice. "Okay. Mor Dhona is ailing you? Where will you go then? Ul'dah, with L'khilo?"

"Farther," L'aiha blurted out. "I—I have to go away."

"Aiha, you're scaring me."

"I'm sorry—"

"Where are you going?"

L'aiha could feel the worry, bubbling between them and feeding off one another. But she knew Y'shtola wouldn't stop her, if she felt as strongly as she did. L'aiha knew she just needed answers.

("Answer me.")

"Idyllshire," she blurted out, as if she'd decided just then. "Someplace far away. I just need—need to clear my head."

Y'shtola didn't release her at first, her eyes searching L'aiha with something far more probing than sight. "What is happening to you?"

"I can't," L'aiha croaked. "I'm sorry—I-I've talked to Urianger a little. You can ask him. I'll be in Idyllshire, just—I need to go, Shtola."

It wasn't answers, exactly, but it gave Y'shtola a means to follow. She withdrew her hands, masking a fretting sadness with her usual composure. "If you need anything," she said, "pray seek out Master Matoya. She's crass, but she will help."

L'aiha shuddered, nodded—and belatedly remembered a sound was needed. "I will," she said, and kissed Y'shtola's head. "I promise. Thank you."

Within the hour, she was gone. The aetheryte in Revenant's Toll was her fastest ticket out, and she wouldn't pass up its brevity—though as she passed through the stream, she wished she had.

The phantom was there, hovering like a reflection in water. It was a fraction of a moment in the material world, but to L'aiha in the stream, it was much too long.

"Answer me," she said.

"What do you want?!" L'aiha cried. "Who are you?!"

"You know who we are."

Idyllshire materialized around her, the return of physicality so unexpected that L'aiha crashed to the cobbles. Goblins came rushing, asking garbled questions through their loud masks.

L'aiha curled up on the ground, clutching her necklace. "I—I would like a place to stay."

The goblins eagerly showed her to one of Idyllshire's presently unused buildings. A small manor, it looked like, in surprising condition. The goblins explained even its magical locks had withstood the test of time, and they were unable to enter because of it. But L'aiha and her magie-magics surely could, and if so, they would happily sell it to her.

The locks were complex, but not beyond her. So she gave the goblins a hefty bit of gil for their space and time, and she walled herself away. The manor was in pristine shape within, also thanks to its surviving enchantments. It was not so big as to feel exposed—it was, in truth, more like a glorified cottage—but to L'aiha, it felt safe.

She sat on the plush bed she found in the master bedroom. She hesitated, for a long time, then clutched the memory crystal around her neck and spoke.

"I'm listening now."

* * *

"She has been hearing Azem?" Y'shtola balked.

Urianger merely nodded, sifting through a drawer in his desk. He produced a key, and crossed his study to unlock a cabinet in one of his bookshelves. There, he withdrew a stack of loosely bound papers; Y'shtola could already sense the magic ink with which they'd been filled.

"Tis our prevailing theory, yes," he said, returning to Y'shtola with the papers. "An entity haunts her dreams, with eyes like smoldering flame, and a crystal upon her forehead identical to our lady L'aiha's."

He offered the documents to Y'shtola, who took and went about reading them at once, aided by the magic ink that shone plainly in her sight. "What do they want? This phantom of the Fourteenth?"

"Twas what spurred L'aiha to depart and learn for herself," Urianger said.

[diavolodigitale]

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Andromeda Galaxy - pt.2 Kadara

I must admit, editing this 2 years after writing is a real pain in the you-know-what. It almost doesn’t seem worth saving anymore, but I am determined to finish this. The last 2 chapters are kind of fun after all.

Genres: comedy, romance (vaguely), friendship maybe, nothing serious, really.

Pairing: m!Ryder/Evfra 

Characters: Ryder, Evfra, Reyes

Rating: PG

Size: around 6 pages

Pt.1 - Pt.2 - Pt.3 - Pt.4 ----- All chapters in PDF

Kadara port had everything a weary traveller could ever wish for: water for when you were thirsty, food for when you were hungry, protection for when you were in fear for your life, and for when you were thoughtless - a knife to stab you in the back. From time to time even James needed some of its special offers, but not as radical as what most of the mercs coming here were looking for. The job of the Pathfinder was dangerous and, sadly, unrewarding, so he developed a habit of coming to the port to give some rest to his fagged body and worn-out mind. People there openly disliked him which gave him the perfect opportunity to behave however he wanted without thinking much about the role forced onto him.

Ryder enjoyed observing dozens of different people visiting the port every day. Sometimes he would even become the witness of some utterly disgusting and dishonest affairs which had, to put it mildly, not the best outcome for one of the sides of the conflict. Nevertheless, he learnt his lesson about not trying to help every single person on Kadara very well literally on the day of his first visit. As such, those situations turned into mere inconveniences he had to steer clear of while staying there. Helping his race survive was at the moment more important than dealing with exiles and the problems they caused. Priorities first.

What he liked even more than observing people, was talking to his crew members in a kind of informal atmosphere. No doubt, the air that prevailed on the Tempest was mostly friendly and peaceful, but work is work no matter what they say. Here, on Kadara, on the other hand, every one of them would find something more enjoyable to occupy themselves with in their free time so the general mood shifted from busy to more casual. Whatever they were doing – drinking in the bar, trying to persuade the merchant to give a discount, or checking the incoming supplies for the ship – it was still interesting for him to see them act in situ.

Having no plans in particular for the evening, Ryder was strolling in the direction of the local bar when he noticed a familiar silhouette. A renowned angaran commando stood near a bunch of crates piled up in a secluded alley. Quite far from any vendor or stall, as Ryder noticed. It was already enough to get him interested.

He cautiously approached Evfra from behind just to startle him with a loud “greeting” of his.

“Is it really you who I see here? Or is it just a black-market VI? I would really be astonished if technologies went so far,” he yelled cheerfully.

“Is it a rhetorical question?” Evfra turned his head and gave Ryder a tired spiritless look.

“I hope something happened,” responded Ryder and pouted, “‘cause if you’re so dull only because I’m here, I will be deeply offended.”

“Fascinating.”

Evfra watched a few strangers pass by the alley they were in and clicked his tongue disappointedly. Clear as day, he was looking for something or someone.

“So, what is the leader of the angaran Resistance doing here all alone? Such a famous figure should be an object of desire for local bounty hunters,” said Ryder. His curiosity always got the best of him.

“Same goes to you, Pathfinder.”

“I guess, more people want me to actually do something to improve the quality of life in the galaxy than just to die in the slums. And you haven’t answered my question,” noted Ryder, unsatisfied with the reply he got.

“It may be hard to believe but lots of people here have heard stories about me. Despite that, hardly anybody knows what I really look like. It is very useful when you hold such a position. Of course,”—Evfra sighed before continuing—“if you do not have a Pathfinder nearby, who will yell that it is indeed you and not somebody else.”  

“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.” Ryder propped up one of the nearby crates and pretended to zip up his mouth.

“I would really like to see that.” Evfra sighed yet again.

“That’s just an idiom that–”

“I know. Jaal told me about this strange phenomenon of yours. Seems like everything about humans is as confusing as it is annoying.”

“It won’t be so confusing when you get to know us better.”

“If I get to know you.”

“Believe me, I will do everything for this alliance to work out,” declared Ryder. He sounded completely confident in what he was saying. “I am always ready to help and even make some necessary sacrifices for the sake of our union.”

“Spare me the details, please.”

Evfra looked around one more time. His search wasn’t successful which was obvious from a disgruntled look on his face. Ryder noticed that, and his interest towards the goal of Evfra’s pursuit on Kadara grew even more.

“So, what could be so important that it managed to make you come here personally?”

“Resistance’s matters.”

“That I have already figured out,”—Ryder raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms—“I mean, why you? As far as I know, you have countless field agents that could take up this business on your behalf.”

Understanding the Pathfinder wouldn’t be shaken off so easily, Evfra decided to give up without even starting an argument. He wanted this conversation to end as soon as possible.

“I am looking for my informant. He hasn’t contacted me for a few days, although I’ve been waiting. And I loathe waiting,” he responded.

“And for that you spared the time to come personally? I’m impressed.”

“Do you trust everybody on your team, Ryder? Do you trust everybody on the Nexus?” asked Evfra, staring at Ryder intently. There was no point in continuing this conversation, but he just couldn’t hold himself back.

“That’s the question not to be answered in front of the people I work with,” chuckled Ryder.

“Then you know why I’m here. If you want to do something, do it yourself. In this case, you will have no one to blame if something goes wrong or the desired result is not achieved.”

“I can understand that.” The Pathfinder nodded slightly and went on, "I think, you’re a real professional, you know?”

Evfra gave Ryder a gloomy glance and left the question unanswered. He was not entertained by this talk the way Ryder was. He probably never had been.

“Is it Reyes you’re looking for?” asked Ryder bluntly.

“Are you going to expose identities of all people working for the Resistance?”

Evfra did not even sound mad anymore. Just tired.

“If nobody here knows who you are, then there’s no harm in mentioning that you’re looking for him. Lots of people on Kadara work with him as well, so saying his name out loud isn’t really that much of a deal.”

“Your thoughtlessness is going to get you killed some day.”

“Not while you’re around to take care of my safety.”

No reaction followed, so all Ryder could do after such a remark was stand silently and awkwardly scratch his neck. There was still nothing special he wanted to do in the port besides just sticking around for some time, so he figured he’d stay here and see where the situation would get him, but the atmosphere was killing him.

“Reyes seems to like you,” said Evfra after a few minutes of silence.

“He does?”

“Yes, even though I cannot see why.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” said Ryder and forced a little smile that looked sincere enough. He knew that arguing with Evfra would never lead him anywhere. “So, do you mean he likes me as a person or…?”

“I do not possess such knowledge. We don’t discuss personal matters.”

“Oh, I see. Then how do you know he likes me?”

Evfra exhaled loudly and sat down on one of the crates, perhaps, tired of standing on the same place for what could be hours.

“He speaks highly of you. It seems that he admires your methods and purposes, although it is hard to tell, since you, humans, are so bad at expressing your true feelings.”

“Guess we have something to learn from your kind.”

“You have a lot to learn from us,” corrected him Evfra. “First of all, how to read the attitude and recognize when it is better to stop the communication.”

“I’ll take that into consideration, but don’t promise anything.”

Ryder considered something for a few moments before deciding to be bold till the end and taking a seat near Evfra. There was high chance the angara would stand up, not wanting to be near him after the last incident, but Ryder really hoped he would just leave it be.

Evfra looked at the Pathfinder with dissatisfaction, but said nothing.

“How’s your arm?” asked Ryder, relieved by his reaction.

“Healed.”

“Good to hear that.”

“Do you want to ask me how my head is?”

“As good as mine, I’m sure,” answered James, but still threw a quick glance at Evfra’s forehead to make sure he was fine.

“It was foolish of you to perform such an act. My bones could have been much stronger than yours, and then your people would have lost another Pathfinder,” muttered Evfra between his teeth.

Evfra’s words made something about Ryder change. For a few moments, he wasn’t so upbeat anymore – just an ordinary exhausted and disappointed in life individual on Kadara.

Evfra mused over the idea of saying he was sorry, but the situation seemed so weird to him, that he decided not to.

A familiar voice of someone speaking with a charming accent rang out not far from Evfra and Ryder’s location.

“Well, isn’t that the great Evfra himself?”

“Reyes!”—Evfra stood up abruptly and took a few steps towards the tan-skinned man—“I’ve been waiting to hear from you for days and you didn’t send me a word. Don’t make me come here once again or else I may find someone more responsible to take your place.”

Ryder tried to recall when he last saw him this angry but failed.

“Did you come all the way just to see me?”—Reyes made an ironic bow—“I am pleased and honored. If I may ask, did Pathfinder Ryder also come here looking for me?”

“Not this time, Reyes, but it is good to see you alive and well,” said Ryder and nodded with a hint of a polite smile on his face.

“What a shame. I was already intrigued by the possibilities of our prospective cooperation.”

“Pathfinder Ryder will be the only one available to you for cooperation if you do not explain yourself right now,” said Evfra almost growling.

He was visibly unhappy with how the conversations developed. Ryder got the feeling he’d better return back to the Tempest and leave those two to discuss their business in privacy. He stood up, displaying his intention to withdraw from this soon-to-be battlefield.

“I see you need some time to catch up. I also have some business to take care of while I’m in the port, so I’ll probably get going.”

“Leaving already?” A slight disappointment could be heard in Reyes’ voice as he spoke. “I thought maybe we could grab a drink or two after Evfra and I… resolve our issue.”

“Enough!” shouted Evfra, raising his voice like he rarely did. His chest was heaving with suppressed rage. Ryder thought he was most likely really angry with Reyes’ careless and provoking manner. Or anything else. From James’ experience, it really didn’t take Evfra long to find a reason to be angry about.

“Maybe next time. It was nice seeing you, Evfra. And you, Reyes, as well,” he declined, not wanting to provoke the angaran commando any further.

“Likewise, Pathfinder. I sincerely hope to see you here again in the nearest future,” responded Reyes and gave him a wink.

Ryder lightly nodded and gave another polite smile. Evfra only sniffed and abruptly turned away, facing the other direction when Ryder was leaving. Once more, not bidding farewell properly.