#even in the midst of Everything (on top of also having to do medical work- despite having only done mostly like

[arthur-r]

hi so this started as a life update and then turned into a major vent and i am very sorry so i am putting it under a cut. content warning for medical stuff and surgery and also college and also generally being upset

oh hey arthur update the medical issues i’ve been vaguing about for the past like week are officially not life threatening or anything and will be getting resolved in a surgery this tuesday. so recovering from that will be a super fun way to spend the last three weeks leading into my senior year, which i really badly overbooked with babysitting nearly every day and working my pizza job extra hours, both of which jobs are the kind where just calling in sick for one day causes actual problems for real people in ways that other jobs maybe wouldn’t. so i’m taking off both my jobs on the actual day of the surgery but otherwise i’m just. powering through it all

[adiraargent]

your choso fic was absolutely ADORABLE oh my god, may i request an angsty choso x (preferably) fem reader who kinda has mommy issues? like she's not used to receiving this kind of love and affection from a person and she kinda gets emotional whenever choso expresses his love for her. if you don't feel comfy writing this please feel free to ignore! :3

I'm here for you - Choso Kamo

warnings: none, fluff, angst, mention of family issues wc 1.6k Thank you for the request <3 I hope you like it, if not lmk and I'll try again :)

The day had been a relentless cascade of stress and anxiety, each passing hour feeling like a battle against the weight of the world. You trudged through the front door of your apartment, your shoulders heavy with the burden of the day's struggles. The soft click of the door closing behind you seemed to echo in the silence of the empty lounge room. You sighed softly, putting your bag down on the kitchen bench before trudging over to the fridge, pulling it open tiredly to grab the water jug out.

Choso, who had heard the front door click shut rushed out of the room, an excited grin on his face as he went to welcome you home. However always perceptive to your moods, he was quick to notice the weariness etched into every line of your face. His concern was palpable as he approached you, his eyes filled with a mixture of empathy and worry.

"Hey my love, are you okay?" Choso's voice was gentle, his tone laced with genuine concern as he reached out to touch your arm.

You mustered a weak smile, though it felt like an effort to even lift the corners of your lips. "I'm fine," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, though the words tasted bitter on your tongue.

Choso's gaze softened, his hand lingering on your arm as he studied your face. "You don't have to pretend with me," he said softly, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of your turmoil. "I can see it in your eyes."

"I'm fine Cho," you muttered, shrugging his hand off your arm so you could reach up into the medical cabinet to grab some Panadol.

The dam of emotions threatened to burst, the weight of your worries pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. You swallowed hard, trying to push aside the overwhelming tide threatening to consume you.

"What's wrong my love?" he whispered again softly, being careful not to push your boundaries.

"It's just... everything," you murmured, your voice trembling with the weight of unspoken words. "Work, family... I feel like I'm drowning."

Choso's expression softened even further, his eyes filled with understanding as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "I'm here for you my sweet girl," he whispered, his voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of your storm. "Always."

You stiffened at the physical contact, still not used to it. You stood there, arms stuck to your side as you looked ahead, unsure of how to really react, the unfamiliar feeling of warmth around you causing an eruption in your stomach. You didn't know how to feel, the warmth from the hug felt so comforting... yet so unusual that it also mad you feel sick.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you leaned into his embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of his presence. You tried to hold back your tears, the belief that it was wrong to cry deeply etched into your soul as your mothers harsh words and lectures remained prominent in your memory.

It was times like these when you were reminded of just how fortunate you were to have Choso by your side, his unwavering support a beacon of light in the darkness.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you buried your face in his chest, allowing yourself to finally let go of the facade you had been clinging to all day.

Choso held you close, his arms a safe haven in the midst of the storm raging within you. "You don't have to do anything alone darling," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I love you, and I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of Choso's love, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the weight of your burdens easing ever so slightly. And as you clung to him, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, heart to heart.

As you rested in Choso's embrace, the tension that had gripped your body slowly began to ebb away, replaced by a sense of tranquility that washed over you like a soothing balm. With each steady beat of his heart against your ear, you felt the jagged edges of your emotions begin to smooth out, the weight of the day's troubles dissipating into the ether.

"I know I don't say it enough, but I appreciate everything you do for me," you whispered, your voice barely above a hushed breath as you nuzzled closer to him, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace, "you're so patient with me... even after how I act and push you away..."

Choso's arms tightened around you, his touch a comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions. "You don't have to thank me love," he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring. "I love you, and I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

Those words, spoken with such sincerity and depth of feeling, stirred something deep within you, a wellspring of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you once more. "I know you had it rough growing up, and you didn't get the love that you deserved... but I'm here to show you just how important and special you really are. You mean everything to me."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you pulled back slightly, meeting Choso's gaze with a mixture of gratitude and love.

"I love you too, Choso," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you reached up to brush away the tears that lingered on your cheeks. "More than words can express."

Choso's eyes softened, his gaze filled with an unwavering devotion that took your breath away. Without a word, he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of the love and affection he held for you.

As you basked in the warmth of Choso's love, a sense of contentment washed over you, soothing the frayed edges of your soul. Wrapped in his arms, you felt a sense of safety and security that you had never known before, as if the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble of serenity.

"Thank you," you murmured again against his lips, your words a whispered prayer of gratitude as you leaned into his touch, savoring the sensation of his lips against yours.

Choso smiled against your mouth, his fingers gently trailing down your spine in a tender caress. "There's no need to thank me, love," he said softly, his voice a gentle murmur in the stillness of the room. "I meant what I said, I'm always going to be here for you."

His words were a soothing melody that washed over you, filling you with a sense of peace that you had never known before.

"I'm so so grateful that you found me," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you pressed your forehead against his, your eyes locked in a silent exchange of love and devotion.

Choso's eyes softened, his gaze filled with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

The kiss was filled with all the unspoken words and emotions that lingered between you, a silent promise of love and commitment that bound you together in that moment. And as you melted into each other's embrace, you knew that you had found your home in Choso's arms.

But even as you clung to him, a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminded you of the scars that still lingered from your past, the wounds that ran deeper than any physical injury. You had spent so long building walls around your heart, guarding it against the pain and disappointment that seemed to follow you like a shadow. And now, with Choso by your side, those walls threatened to crumble, leaving you exposed and vulnerable once more.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, pulling away slightly as a wave of guilt washed over you. "I didn't mean to push you away like that. It's just... I'm not used to this."

Choso's expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. "Hey," he murmured, his voice gentle yet firm. "You don't have to apologise. I know it's not easy for you, but I'm here for you, always."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hands against your skin. "I'm just so scared," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you let your guard down, allowing him to see the vulnerability that lay beneath the surface.

Choso's gaze softened, his thumb brushing away the tears that streaked your cheeks. "I know," he murmured, his voice filled with compassion and understanding. "But you don't have to be scared anymore. I won't let anyone hurt you, not while I'm here."

His words were a soothing balm to your wounded soul, offering comfort and reassurance in the face of your fears.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you pressed your forehead against his, your eyes locked in a silent exchange of love and devotion.

Choso's eyes softened, his gaze filled with an unwavering devotion that took your breath away. "And I love you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

written by @adiraargent Please do not steal or claim <3 Hope you enjoyed Requests are welcome :)

[lynmars79]

About Imelda Goldfinch

Looking back over episodes, transcripts, and the wiki as a friend experiences Midst for the first time, I keep coming back to Imelda.

She "mistook" Weepe for the Mayor of Stationary Hill when they bumped into one another (literally) in S1 E5 "Missions". She spends the rest of S1 pester-courting Weepe into the Trust, starts him at Zero, and then grants him enough Valor to become Upper Trust for the Cabaret betrayal. She makes sure he gets off Midst in the Consector's flagship.

In S2 she continues her Weepe project, showing him around the city, introducing him to people, accompanying him to Upper Trust meetings. And then the Arca, S2 E13 "Inside." Where she uses her zealousness to torment Weepe until he (outwardly) acquiesces to her.

She knew about his condition, and his medical treatment. In detail. Cameras aren't that advanced in this cosmos, and Weepe keeps that knowledge quite secret; Saskia knew after four years as Weepe's business partner, and being noted as perceptive. When and how did Imelda find out, enough to gauge a normal day's risk (if not enough to know what happens when Weepe gets excited/stressed)?

In S3 she is front and center at the naming of Weepe as Tripotentiary. She automatically becomes his Archauditor, a minimal show made of having to create the position and choice to fill it over brunch. She attends high end meetings like the dinner with Kozma, where Imelda makes interesting notes on her menu (per the appendices) about what Weepe does and doesn't like, among her other notes and reactions.

Then we get to S3 E9 "Baron."

And I have to wonder: Did Imelda "mistake" Weepe in S1 when they met? Was she there not just because of the Breach investigation and/or Moon sale, but for him? Does she know, or at least suspect, who Weepe was before his first Fold-induced transformation and the salvation from the Mothers?

Imelda is a character that fascinates me, and is a bit frightening when thinking about her. She gives some of the same vibes as HP's Dolores Umbridge, but with the caveat that Imelda seems to be a True Believer in the Trust--while also being extremely driven and ambitious. We saw in her Notary prep school yearbook that she had Caenum as a girl (with the note "most likely to Break Even"). When we meet her, middle-aged, she's wearing a wide sash of Valor and regularly rubs shoulders with the Upper Trust.

It took Fuze Peabody his entire working life to Break Even by retirement (and given Lark's past, they start working rather young in the Trust; no child labor laws in the Highest Light I suppose, for those in debt). Most Trustees never reach Zero; it's why so many Breach.

And so much of Imelda's recent Valorous momentum has been due to her maneuvering of Weepe. Of the things she has done with, for, and to him.

Did she gun for Jonas Spahr being removed as Prime Consector? Was it convenient, or targeted? Disdain for the Company or just a way to maneuver Weepe into power? And why? Did she see the incompetence at the top and think it could be better? One of her menu notes is re-starting Valor checks for Upper Trust and other important meetings. Did the Fleit scandal make her think change was needed? Does she think Weepe can get her what she wants when the rest of the Upper Trust cannot?

What does she know? Why is she doing all this? Personal power? Grandiose zealotry? Revenge? A little of everything? Is Imelda the real mastermind and arch villain?

I dunno, and that last may be a bit silly (??) but something is going on with this woman, and she stands somewhere near the heart of this tangled web.

"He's totally fucked" the Narrators say of Weepe when he bumps into Imelda that first time. That's certainly been true in many ways--and I don't think it impossible that it will continue to be, with Weepe maybe not expecting the damage this scarily cheerful little lady with Pollyanna curls can still do to him before the end.

For the good of the Trust.

[oathkeeperoxas]

Codywan rec list – fics I had open in my browser for 4+ months in 2022

Surely I’m not the only one who opens fics and then leaves them open for ungodly amounts of time before I read/comment on them... anyway I have cleared my browser out as a first act of 2023, and I am here to share with you some of the gems that I found there which deserve more appreciation 😤 please find several excellent codywan fics below!

Dream you not of broken men [38.9k] by aceofsuns

Clones are disappearing from the Imperial Army. CC-2224, haunted by the memories of the man he loved and killed, decides to investigate. Its a question of what exactly is up with the clones' medical examinations, what has happened to the missing troopers, and how CC-5052 is mixed up in all this. (Featuring Imperial Clone Commander CC-2224, Cody and Obi-Wan trying to navigate what they are to each other during the Clone Wars, and the clones doing the best they can to support each other despite everything else)

Only read this if you want to cry 👍 no but for real it messed me up in the besttttt way like oh my god this fic is so excellent in everything it sets out to do – the POV of an Imperial chipped Cody is so tense, and the flashbacks to the clone wars and codywan’s developing relationship will tear your heart out. Tragic codywan my beloved!!!!!!!!

Travelling at the Speed of Light [32.2k] by @anaclastic-azurite

Cody’s General has feelings for him. It’s not a problem. *** In which Cody spends the years of the Clone Wars dealing with things that are a problem, and then a little longer afterwards dealing with the things that are not. OR: A festering pile of loosely connected one-shots following the years of the Clone Wars, featuring (mostly) one-sided pining!Obi-Wan and Cody, who very much does not have the time to deal with his General’s shit on top of his own.

Honestly contender for favourite fic of last year, this one just has everythingggg the humour is packed in alongside the angst and the developing relationships so so well. I love slow burn codywan, and this delivered – the trust and the friendship between Cody and Obi-Wan in this feels so earned and so real, and makes the cumulation of their feelings at the end even more sweeter for it!

when our truth is burned from history [23.6k] by writerforlife

"'You are so good at protecting others, my dear, that you often forget to look after yourself.' Kenobi hesitates, then briefly, briefly enough that Cody thinks he has imagined it, squeezes Cody’s shoulder. 'I am not keen to leave you in the ice.'" Or: When a mission to a snow-and-ice-covered planet goes wrong, Cody and Obi-Wan are forced to flee across treacherous terrain with only each other for warmth. Along the way, they confront all the things they have been avoiding -- including their feelings.

Every cold weather trope you could want, plus a few more on the side! This has great prose and some juicy scenes to sink into, the hurt/comfort is exquisite and the set up for codywan and Cody’s character particularly is awesome

Good Man of War [16.2k] by @ooboowoonkoonooboo

During a medic’s first mission with the 212th, everything goes wrong. In the midst of it all, Cody deals with his growing feelings towards General Kenobi.

Very very good!! The mission here was very tense and the punches kept coming. Mind the gore/violence tags though, the author is very much not kidding about that, but I adored every OC in this fic, and loved loved loved how Cody was written in it!

The Raephens’ Gifts [8k] by @lttrsfrmlnrrgby

After the end of the Empire, after seeing the remaining clones and Jedi and a rebuilding Republic to something stable and close to real peace, Obi-Wan and Cody take some time away from their duties and take a vacation on a backwater planet in Wild Space to rest and recover. They sleep a lot, catch up on the last decade's books, go for long walks, and work to enjoy just being them, instead of Generals on whose shoulders the galaxy rests. They also make friends with some smart local birds.

A soft epilogue for my boys!!! I adore post-canon fics, and domestic established relationship, and healing and dealing with what happened in canon, and this is a fix it on top of all that deliciousness. Excellent prose and a unique set up finishes off this lovely treat.

deep in your marrow [2.7k] by @redminibike1

Huffing out a chuckle, Obi-Wan stood, moving across the small space to Cody’s cot and resting one knee on the mattress. Pressing his palms to the indented cheeks of Cody’s helmet, he sought out the catches, releasing them with a quiet hiss. “Head up,” he murmured. Obliging, Cody propped himself up on one elbow, blinking sleepily as Obi-Wan tugged the helmet up and off. “Hi,” he rasped, eyes warm and melting in the low light. Or: After a long and difficult campaign, Obi-Wan seeks out his commander. For Codywan Kiss Bingo 2022: kiss on the stomach/fingers/[redacted]/lips

Obi-Wan taking care of Cody hits soooo good, and this is a very soft get together that has lots of layers going on underneath. The contrast between how Obi-Wan deals with what he’s feeling and how Cody deals with what he’s feeling is sooooo much like oh okay I’m going to have shrimp emotions about this ship just thinking about it!

[riken-leather-co]

Bapzo Propaganda | Day 15 & 16 |

Baptiste was well aware that he was a medic. Which meant that he was expected to care for and watch out for others, himself included. He’d very well seen what could happen if one didn’t tend to certain wounds right away. Infection, removal of a limb, incurable side effects, and most importantly, death. But, he was also aware of exceptions. Exceptions that made it valid to delay the caretaking of a wound. Sometimes there were cases where you just had to slap a shitty bandage on it and send someone on their way. He didn’t like it, but it happened.

This was not one of those cases, and yet he’d done it anyway. Baptiste reasoned that, had it been anyone else, he would not have risked it. But, Baptiste knew his own limits and what he could and could not do. So, in the midst of battle with bullets coming down, he’d done some risky quick stitches and kept fighting. In his defense, he fully intended to fix it when they arrived at base. Everyone was a little bloody, sure, but they all lived. Baptiste was the only one that had gained any truly bad injuries, unbeknownst to the others.

“Good work loves!” Tracer chirped, zipping around and giving everyone a clap on the back.

“Right back at you,” Baptiste said. If anyone noticed the strain in his grin as Tracer jostled him, no one said anything. He fought the urge to cradle his side - pain pulsating through his side rhythmically.

As quickly and carefully as he could without looking suspicious, he split up from the others. It was difficult. He’d made a habit of doing the rounds and ensuring everyone was in tip top shape, cracking a joke here or there as a treat. The jokes fell a little flat today but thankfully no one called him out on it. The second his room door slid shut behind him he rid himself of his gear. Baptiste grimaced at the blood soaking through his side, clenching his eyes shut as a headache began to make itself known. Did Baptiste even take the bullet out before stitching it up? He couldn’t remember. In the end, it didn’t matter. The second he’d taken his shirt off and dabbed up some of the blood, there was a knock on his door.

“A little -” he hissed under his breath. “Busy here! Leave a message!”

“Is everything well, Baptiste?”

Baptiste paused when he heard Hanzo’s voice through the door. Logically, his wound was very much more important. But, Baptiste was a weak man to certain emotions, namely any that Hanzo caused him to feel. Against any better judgment, he slapped a gauze on his wound, pulled on a new shirt, and quickly opened the door.

“What’s up?”

“Are you well?”

“I should be asking you that,” Baptiste said. His chest ached as he eyed Hanzo. There were tell tale signs of dark eye bags and an odd tension in his body. “...Bad dream again?”

“...Yes,” Hanzo reluctantly muttered. Still, it touched Baptiste that Hanzo had gotten to this point to confess it to him. How could he turn him away? “I wished to get some fresh air.”

“Then let’s go.” Baptiste stepped out, door shutting behind him. Hanzo led the way while Baptiste lingered just behind him. The hallway slightly moved around him and he breathed in deeply through his nose, willing the nausea away.

They found themselves on the rooftop, one of Hanzo’s favorite places to hide away. Hanzo grabbed his hand and pulled him down to sit on the ledge beside him. He winced - side pulling painfully at the stitches as he shifted to sit down. Once they were both sat, they watched the horizon and breathed together for a moment. Baptiste’s side had faded into a numb sensation which he knew wasn’t a good sign.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Hanzo shook his head and leaned against Baptiste. “Let’s just lay here. Is that alright?”

“Of course.” Baptiste sighed and soaked in the warmth coming from Hanzo. It wasn’t often they got to sit together like this. There was an ever present headache building up behind his eyes, and his body felt like it was running hotter than usual. Still, he didn’t say anything or bring up his concerns. Too busy basking in the moment. That, and his head was feeling like cotton was stuffed in it.

Still, it was as if an ever present calm was fading over him. The pain fading to an ever present ache in the background. It was easy for his eyelids to slide shut and fade into the black pit. When he awoke next it was to the faint beeping of medical equipment and blinding white lights just behind his eyelids. His body had an ever present ache. It was difficult to open his eyes, lashes fluttering as he squinted against the lights.

“You’re a fool.” Is the first thing Baptiste heard. He winced and slowly looked over. Hanzo was glowering at him, arms crossed.

“...I was going to tend to it,” Baptiste muttered, already figuring out where he was and roughly what had happened.

“You’re lucky an infection didn’t set in, Mercy said.” he snapped. He leaned over and pressed a button - calling Mercy into the room.

“I’m sorry.” Baptiste sighed and quickly surrendered. “I didn’t want to worry you when you were already having a tough time.”

“It would have been worse had you died while I was none the wiser.” Hanzo took a deep breath and let it out quickly. Rather than look angry, he looked more tired. “Do not worry me like that again.”

“Okay.” Baptiste reached out and grabbed Hanzo’s hand, squeezing it as Mercy walked into the room.

“You are in big trouble mister.” Mercy said, lightly smacking her clipboard against his head. “You worried us to death, you know.”

“Yes Yes I’m sorry. What’s the situation doc? Am I dying?”

“No, thankfully enough.” She sniffed and pushed up her glasses. Mercy didn’t mention them holding hands. By the time she left after their check ups, Baptiste was left even more exhausted.

Hanzo watched Baptiste’s eyes droop as he fought to stay awake and squeezed his hand. “Sleep. I will not go anywhere.”

“Mh.” Baptiste was quick to listen, drifting asleep once again.

[childofchrist1983]

The word of the LORD also came unto me, saying, Son of man, thou dwellest in the midst of a rebellious house, which have eyes to see, and see not; they have ears to hear, and hear not: for they are a rebellious house. - Ezekiel 12:1-2 KJV

I wonder what God would say today about the world in which we live! I have a feeling that He would still find a rebellious house; even, at times, among those who call themselves Christian. Christianity is more than the name of a religion - It is a way of life! We need to stop being a rebellious house and live up to the name we claim as ours: Christian.

God still looks out and sees injustice in a world that has a majority of people who call themselves Christian. God wants us to be the eyes that see and the ears that hear. He wants us to recognize injustice and work to rectify it. He wants us to hear the cries of the poor. When there is a campaign to build housing for the poor, do we support it or do we say, "Not in my neighborhood!" If we own multiple unit housing, are we willing to rent to immigrants or people of color? Would we object to a safe house or a group home for the disabled, or would we sign a petition worrying that it would affect the value of our neighborhood's homes?

To live as a Christian involves sacrifice. But for some, if it will cost us money, we will fight against it. We need to open our eyes to see what needs to be done whether it is fair housing practices, a living wage, equal employment opportunities, equal access to medical care and education, and we need to follow through in whatever way we can. May Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ give us eyes that see and ears that hear the cry of the poor and the vulnerable as well as the will to do something to help them.

Let us seek Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ today and everyday with all our heart and being, looking for His love, light and will for our lives with each step we take. Let us seek to please Him with our thoughts, words, and deeds and seek to advance His Kingdom of Heaven and His glory with our lives. Let us seek Him from a pure and humble heart, and when we so seek, we believe Him and His promise that we will find. May He help us all to be more sensitive to the teaching ministry of His Holy Word and Spirit, relying on Him and allowing Him to speak to us and guide us every step of our Christian journey.

God gave us the Holy Bible - His living and Holy Word - to let us know of Him and His abiding love and care as well as guide and prepare us for all our lives. May He help us encourage one another as we continue our walk with Him and our duty to Him daily. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for being present for all our new beginnings and all our lives. May He redirect any anxiety we feel as He provides countless opportunities for growth and change. May we humble ourselves before God always, asking Him to forgive our sins and make our hearts and lives anew through His Holy Word and Spirit. May He help us make Him and His Holy Word top priority, so we can grow spiritually and grow in our relationship with Him as we apply it to our daily lives. Thank God that we can focus on Him and everything about Him, for that is what keeps us sane and at peace. May our words and actions always be a reflection of Him and His Holy Word and Spirit and will.

Everyday, we must remember to thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for the grace that He poured out for us on the cross at Calvary. He has freed us from the burdens of sin and guilt. May He help us to always walk in His grace and Holy Spirit, not by our own measure. May He give us the humble humility to know that our freedom and eternal salvation is found only in Him, so that His grace may sustain us, and we may never lose sight of His love and light and mercy. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for calling us to Him and to serve Him. May He equip us to do all that He has called us to do so that as He works through us, He may use us to produce fruit, to reach others, and to encourage all brothers and sisters in Christ. May He work all of these things in us and through us for His Kingdom and His glory. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all His creation, for His miraculous ways and for everything He does and has done for us! Keep the faith and keep moving forward in your walk with Jesus! He loves us and He knows what is best for us. Seek, follow and trust in Him - Always!

Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Word and for sending His Holy Spirit so that we might have His grace, not only to awaken us and transform our hearts in our spiritual rebirth and guarantee our eternity with Him, but to also call upon Him whenever we are in need. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all the reminders of His love and mercy and faithfulness within His Holy Word. He is bigger than any challenge or circumstance in our lives. Knowing this within our minds and our hearts, nothing can deter our faith in Him and His Truth. May we all accept Him and His eternal gift of salvation and ask that He would transform our hearts and lives according to His will and ways. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Spirit who saves, seals and leads us. May we always thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful LORD, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[reddus-sideblog]

M.E.R.C.s - Express Delivery

7-28-890 AR

Connor watched from the sidelines as the eccentric android loaded up the cargo into the back of his armored delivery truck. As ever it was a miscellany, this time consisting of ordnance, bullet shells, and medical supplies. There were a number of smaller deliveries in the midst of those larger loads too, of course. The morning mist of Lake Hope was still thick around the warehouse, and he watched idly as the shadowy figures of other couriers got ready to make their own deliveries. Normally he’d make his delivery runs solo, but company policy had changed, and Lucky! was adamant about coming along. As it stood he had to take along a co-worker for security reasons, which already got on his nerves, but to top it off it had to be the upbeat android with the rough physique of an overweight fridge. Still, the lady was able to lift loads that would take a couple of couriers, or even a pallet jack, to move normally. He’d helped move the lighter cases and packages, but at a certain point he just had to stand back and let the automaton do her work.

    His feline tail twitched in annoyance as he anticipated the long drive across Newland that he was scheduled for. He usually enjoyed the solitude that a MERC employed with the Co-Op usually had, but the partner policy was going to put an end to that privilege, perhaps permanently. 

    The solid cases labeled “DANGER! EXPLOSIVE!” clunked as the android placed the last of them in the truck’s enclosed compartment, with a lack of gingerness that made Connor wince. Somehow this ditz had made it three and half centuries before she ended up here today, but he wondered when her titular “luck” would come to an end. Tossing around cases of explosives like she did could easily do just that. 

    Connor took a moment to breathe in, then slowly exhale. He knew he probably looked like a pissed off alleycat, but he didn’t want the ride with his co-worker to be a total disaster. Once he stopped looking like a soot-covered bottle brush the chimera trotted over to the side of the armored truck and banged on it twice to get Lucky!’s attention.

    “Hey, that everything? I wanna get rolling soon and have the Santa Free deliveries done before lunch.”

    The ever-chipper android gave him a thumbs up and smiled with all three of her eyes.

    “You betcha! Let’s load up and get on the road! It’s been a while since I’ve gone on a trip across Newland!”

     Lucky! ran around to the passenger side of the truck and hopped up, her large chassis making the truck’s heavy duty shock absorbers rock a bit. Connor stifled a groan, today was going to be a long day.

***

The first few priority deliveries went without a hitch. By half past ten everything but the load of explosives had been dropped off. Connor would be glad to have them out of the back of his truck, and the less time Lucky! spent handling them the better. The ordnance was being dropped off at a warehouse in the Tulnio Sector, which sat nearly in the shadow of the Moswell Mega-Bridge.

    Connor turned onto the inter-zone highway’s off ramp and listened with trepidation as the cargo in the rear shifted a bit. It wasn’t anything to sweat over, ultimately. If it went sky high he’d be dead before he knew it, which was a lot more comforting than the lingering death he had been promised when moving active viral strains for the Department of Medicine. The black-haired chimera had only been a MERC for the Courier Co-Op for a year now, and he was starting to feel like the most dangerous jobs were behind him.

    He wondered what kind of delivery jobs the android next to him had taken in her time. He’d heard from Gary that she had been around since the CC-O was first founded, but given the history of androids Connor guessed that she’d been doing similar work before that. As Connor checked the side view mirrors he also slyly glanced at Lucky!. For her part she really did seem content to just look out the window and watch Newland pass by.

    After a few intersections the truck pulled in front of the designated warehouse, and Lucky! hardly waited for the truck to stop before she hopped out.

    “Don’t worry, I know these guys!” she called out behind her as she ran over to the warehouse’s front door with her typical heavy footsteps.

    Connor just leaned back and sighed as he watched Lucky! out of the side of his eye. It wasn’t even lunch yet and he was already feeling quite annoyed. He knew it was his own damn problem, and the android didn’t seem to mind Connor at all. Still, her attitude grated on him, and the day was dragging on.

    Lucky! had apparently made her way back to the truck while the catboy was busy sulking, “Hey partner, they’re opening their bay door for us, so go ahead and pull in there, I’ll meet you inside, okie dokie?”

    Connor grunted an affirmative and threw the delivery truck into reverse.

***

The inside of the warehouse looked like a cross between an armory, a machine shop, and an apartment, as the tools of mercenary trade were strewn about the interior, along with a number of A-5 drones and some sparse furniture. Little of that kept Connor’s attention, though, as he was distracted by the two inhabitants of the warehouse.

    One was a human man of average height and an athletic build who hid behind a pair of shades and a balaclava with a skull printed on the face. Connor wanted to roll his green eyes at the sight of the man, he couldn’t begin to describe how much mercenary posers annoyed him. The catboy kept his attitude in check, though, as the man’s team mate was quite possibly the largest devilkin Connor had ever seen.

    The lady was definitely over two meters tall, and almost as wide. Connor wasn’t sure that you could make a pact with a demon to become so huge, but he couldn’t possibly guess how else she had gotten so large. Devilkin were half demon, sure, but the woman must have been eating whole cows to get that big.

    Lucky! was chatting with the two of them casually, happily catching up for a few minutes before Connor approached, clipboard in hand.

    “So this shipment is for a Cassidy Hanover?” asked Connor, as he looked to the huge devilkin woman.

    “Boss is that for Hol-,” she said before catching herself. The devilkin’s face screwed up at her apparent slip of the tongue and she kept on looking over the manifest before handing it to the man in the mask.

    The man looked it over, “Oh, yeah, she said that it was gonna come in today. You can leave it with us then, right?”

    Connor sighed.

    “No, since it’s listed as ordnance I can only hand it over to the customer, or someone at the same address with the proper licenses.”

    The masked man pulled out a wallet that was as thick as a curled fist and started going through it. Cards, certificates, and vouchers soon littered the workshop table’s surface before he finally found all the proper documentation.

    “Alright, so that’s everything for plastic explosives, high ex grenades, and smoke grenades, right?”

    The courier barely inspected the certificates of the madman. He had other deliveries to get to today, and bureaucracy was the last thing he had time for.

    “Sure, it all looks fine. I’ll get Lucky! to start unloading,” Connor said, turning back to find the android already unloading the explosives into the warehouse. She was tossing each case to the massive devilkin, who was handing them off to the A-5s that had gathered around her.

    “Those are explosive!” he shouted, his voice cracking. 

    The devilkin turned to him for a moment, “Oh it’s fine, they’re mostly inert unless another explosion sets them off. At least that’s what I was told by Hol-”

    Her reassurance was broken off by a sudden container to the face. The tan devilkin took the hit quite well, and even managed to stop the case that had struck her from falling to the ground. A timid “sorry” came from the back of the Courier Co-Op truck. The catboy had seen people explode into anger for less but the huge woman merely winced for a moment before shaking her head, fluffing up her black mane of hair around her upward curled horns. She reassured Lucky! that she was fine, but the android insisted on moving the last few crates of explosives by hand, so that “Mellie'' didn't get hurt again.

    Before Connor could leave his immediate vicinity the masked man stopped him.

    “Oh yeah, you’ve also got something for me, right? I express ordered it so I was hoping that it would be here today,” he said eagerly.

    Connor looked at the license for ordnance in his hand. He didn’t remember a “Bones” being listed on any of the packages in the manifest. He excused himself to go look for the delivery in the back of the CC-O truck. After a few moments of going through his orders Connor did find an additional package that was listed for the warehouse. He’d almost forgotten it, as the explosives had kind of occupied his mind since he’d gotten here.

    Connor looked at the surprisingly light package’s recipient and contents. “Reuben Norman” and “plastic model kits”. He hopped out of the truck with the delivery under his one arm.

    “Uh Bones, do you know a guy named “Reuben”? Does he work here?”

    The masked man froze for a moment before running up to the chimera with an ID card in hand. He gestured for Connor to lower his voice a bit, as though Lucky! and Mellie weren’t already caught up in their own conversation again.

    “Hey,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to hide his embarrassment, “Only my mom calls me that, alright?”

    Connor bit his lip to hide the smirk he was almost developing. He handed over the delivery, and called for his partner to come join him as he mounted up in the truck. The android hugged the large devilkin lady and told her to “say hi to Ari for me!” before she ran along to join Connor once more. He looked back in the rearview mirror to see the wannabe mercenary unwrapping his model kits with glee. It was nice to see that people were grateful for his work.

***

They were coming up on the New Yark hellsect now. The billowing steam clouds from the nearby geo-infernal plant soared up into the late afternoon horizon, covering a good portion of the Northern New Yark sky. The steam soared over the interzone road, reaching up to join the lofty, stripy clouds above.

    The traffic on the trip out from Jeffria wasn’t too bad, but Connor knew it would only get busier as it neared the evening. The blonde lady who had accepted the load of bulk bullet casings in the stead of her girlfriend had been nice enough, and while Connor almost wanted to ask her what she was going to do with the monumental amount of .44 shells and a zipline handle, he had stayed his tongue. It was the penultimate shipment for the day, and if he chatted with her for very long Lucky! would have joined in and his work day would have gotten that much longer. Going all the way over to New Yark was going to take long enough, but when CC-O advertised next day shipping they meant it.

    Still, he was getting used to the android’s presence, and she was a lot less annoying than he’d first thought that she would be. For the most part she just looked out at the city while he drove, and she let him turn up the radio when he was enjoying whatever came on. The only thing that had been overly odd about the android was when she’d taken a picture of him eating at the Seven Star diner after they’d delivered their dangerous cargo to the warehouse. The instant photograph made him look like a wild beast covered in ketchup and mustard that had been caught unawares by a wildlife photographer. 

    Connor couldn’t grab the photograph away from the android quickly enough, and she had tucked it into her shirt for safekeeping, beyond his grasp. He had heard about Lucky!’s habit of taking pictures of her co-workers, but he had never thought much of it. Maybe she was just a photographer in her off time. Connor had his own hobbies, after all, though he never really brought much of his hockey life to work.

    As the truck idled at the intersection that would lead them into the Fort Lath Sector the chimera already had a bad feeling. He got Lucky! to go make sure that the rear of the truck was locked up, and once he was sure of that he rolled up his side window’s armored shutter, and he told his partner to do the same. She seemed a bit bothered by the demand, but she didn’t protest. Before they rolled into the sector proper Connor also pulled over to put the armored window plate over the windshield.

    As they lifted the metal plate and locked it in place Lucky asked, “what’s got you so spooked?”

    As if to answer her question the distant, but all too recognizable sounds of yelling, the crackle of gunfire, and the tolling of a Divine church’s bell became rather noticeable. Connor didn’t give a verbal response, but the look he gave when he met her triple-eyed gaze said it all. The dangerous part of the job was about to begin. 

    The pair made sure that the plate was in place and they ran back into the truck’s safety.

    “Keep your eyes peeled. I don’t want to find out that they have a cannon or something the hard way, alright?”

    “No prob… Any idea what’s up out there?”

    Connor couldn’t recall hearing anything about a hellsect in turmoil on the radio, but he only listened to music channels, as talk shows just put him to sleep. He slowed the truck to a crawl as they neared a cramped road with rows of parked cars on either side. A group of Divinists in white robes were crossing the street, led by a man wearing a rebreather with a flamethrower. The group paid the delivery truck no mind, but stopped in the middle of the street to hose down a pair of devilkin with flame and then gunfire. Connor could tell that Lucky! was tensing up next to him. He didn’t like it either, but he just waited for the small mob to cross before he continued slowly making his way to their destination. 

    Fort Lath was right up in the Northeast corner of the New Yark zone, and the clinic they were delivering to was almost waterfront along the Grand Canal. The buildings here were rundown, moss-covered, and all two stories or shorter, and they were also densely packed up against each other until the shore of the canal, creating a maze of alleys. Connor grumbled quietly, this was going to take some work.

    Looking back into the truck’s bay Connor cast his eyes over the last cargo for the day. A few boxes of medical supplies. He could tell that the people in the sector were going to be sorely needing them before the day was over.

    “Do you just want me to take them to the clinic?”

    Connor was caught off guard by Lucky!’s offer. An android in a hellsect that was in the middle of a firefight was asking for trouble. The other courier came off as a bit of a ditz at times, but she was definitely aware of the risk she was volunteering to take.

    “Huh? No no, it’ll be faster if we both go. Safer too.”     “I can carry the whole shipment myself, I loaded it all up this morning, y’know.”

    Why was she being so damn glib about throwing herself into a situation like this?

    “Yeah but if you get hurt I can carry you…” he trailed off, realizing how unlikely that statement would be in practice. “Well look, I could at least make sure that you’ll make it until someone else can come get you, like a tow truck.”

    Lucky looked at him in surprise that slowly turned into bemusement. A synthesized giggle almost escaped her vocoder.

    “Hey, you do have a sense of humor. I guess it only comes out when things get life or death, huh?” she said as she moved to the rear to unload the cargo.

    After the supplies were moved the android and the chimera locked up the truck, pulling down its armored shutters and double-checking the locks. Having done so the two of them picked up all they could carry and started down the nearest alley. The sounds of conflict weren’t in the immediate area, but they were still too close for comfort.

    Connor led, peeking around corners and checking to make sure that the way was clear before Lucky! stomped along behind him, lugging the much larger crate of supplies over her shoulder. While they had had a few close encounters, they were soon in the home stretch with the Fort Lath Shoreside Clinic now in view, its glowing red tri-cross glaring down the alleyway at the couriers. Connor decided to make a break for it and yelled at Lucky! to keep up as he dashed ahead.

    The chimera outpaced the charging android, and he slowed his pace for a moment to look back at her. A crackling burst of gunfire flew down the alley at him, and Connor felt his legs begin to give out beneath him, before he started moving once more. He wasn’t sure how he was moving again, but he was pressed against the soft, light blue synthflesh of a bulky android, and he was rapidly approaching the hospital sign that he had been running for.

***

Lucky! had been terrified at first when she’d gotten to the clinic and locked cameras with the obviously Infernalite android that was standing guard. The tall, skeletal android bore a pair of horns and a skull-like faceplate that was painted with an Infernalite rune. He was covered head to toe in blades and spiky punk clothing that only helped accentuate his menace. Weighed down by the chimera and a double load of medical supplies, Lucky! was in no state to run, and Connor needed medical aid right away. Thankfully the silver-haired devilkin who had shoved aside the lanky, intimidating android had been ready to help the injured chimera right away.

    The scarred devilkin doctor had practically forced Lucky! into the clinic, and ordered the spiky android to go “have a word” with the shooter. She showed Lucky! where to put her new, injured friend down while she quickly washed her hands and donned a fresh set of medical gloves.The surgeon pulled out all the pieces of lead with little hesitation and had him stitched back up in less than ten minutes. Lucky! couldn’t begin to express her gratitude, and as the blood-stained miracle worker pulled off the slick gloves she found herself hugged by the large android. Blanc allowed the hug for a surprisingly long amount of time, before she extricated herself.

    “Well, yeah… You’re welcome. I just want to make sure that, like, a few less people end up dead,” she said. Her tone was sincere, but her face betrayed that her thoughts were quite a ways away.

    “Right! So! He’ll be OK, right? Miss, uh, doctor devilkin?” asked Lucky!, unsurety creeping into her voice. She had always been bad at judging the health of her organic friends, but a gunshot wound was very obviously bad.

    “Huh?” she asked vacantly as snapped back to the clinic in front of her. “Oh. Oh, yeah, just make sure he doesn’t move his leg too much. And the name’s Blanc.”

    Lucky! finished fulfilling the Fort Lath Shoreside Clinic’s order, and while neither Blanc nor her android companion (who she learned was named “Helldroid”) were affiliated with the practice, she could tell that the supplies were being put to good use. She spent the rest of the afternoon helping the duo move patients and even got a picture with the two of them. Once the fighting had calmed down she moved the still-groggy Connor back to the armored delivery truck with Helldroid’s help, and took off, back to Santa Free. Lucky! was excited to add the photos she’d taken today to her collection of pictures of friends she’d kept since the first Awakening Day.

[fallinto-u]

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A post shared by Trevor Carroll (@trevorcarroll)

Sitting and trying to distract myself through a panic attack, I was scrolling and came across this video. As I listened and compared to the things that have been happening, huge part of me was resisting. But then also realized that in the past, after the worst of times and sometimes a huge reset, things did change for the better. Or if not better, into a different direction at the very least. Another direction eventually came with new opportunities.

If you remember, we talked about this resisting feeling when it came to trying to finish the Frequency book. That resisting feeling towards hope and positivity has been strong for quite a while. But watching this reminded me back of the mindset we once were able to have. It may have changed, and it may all seem pointless right now as we’re going through the worst. But being reminded of what my mind was once capable of, what state I could get into, gave me a little spark of hope and insight again. A small, very small dose of hope. And that’s scary, I may push it away and sabotage right after this again. But maybe with small repeated glimmers of these moments, it may eventually be rebuild again. Bit by bit.

It may sound cliché what's being said in the video but as I thought deeper about my situations, I do see some truth to those words. I do see that I'm literally being pushed into certain directions that wouldn't have motivated me enough if I had stayed in the exact same place. For example, my situation at home getting even way worse and more overwhelming has finally actually pushed me to take steps towards moving out. I don't know how I'll get there, it overwhelms and scares me, but at least I am taking action because I literally cannot stay in this environment for much longer.

As well as my mental health getting at the lowest I imagined it could get. If it didn't get this far, I would have been too anxious, resisting trying out new medication. Now I literally don't have a choice, and can't get that much more anxious on top of what I experience every single moment anyway. The new meds may hopefully benefit/support me in the long run to feel at least a little less anxious going through life.

Last example, and I'm sorry for oversharing and ranting here. But if I didn't get burnt out from life, being stuck at home almost unable to socialize at this point, I wouldn't have found my current therapist. This is the first therapist who comes with the insight that she's pretty sure I have autism and adhd. Adhd I suspected but autism? Completely new insight. But the more I learned about it, the more everything made sense. I thought of our conversations on topics related to that as well. A lot of things fell into place.

Yes all these examples seem to be a blessing in the end,but I haven't experienced them as such yet. I'm honestly still in the midst of hell and I'm afraid you are too. But this is the first time I'm at least able to see things in a different light.

If we were still talking I would’ve sent you the video. Not to force you to be positive or feel hopeful or any different. Rather just to remind you that once it was possible. To remind you that if you would ever want to, it is still available and out there for you. No matter how far you’ve wandered. You can always find your way back to a more stable path, or create a new one. In one of your voice messages I've recently listened to in a moment of despair, you said "You're never too far gone. It's never too late, I promise ". Also something along the lines of that even after the worst of storms, earthquakes and wars, people always rebuild. No matter how awfully destroyed everything is.

I’m always rooting for you. It’s fucking hard, but you’re doing damn well holding on every single day. No matter how you need to get through right now. I'm trying to remember and do the same. Each day we survive is a huge accomplishment, no matter how we had to make it work. You’re still here and trying. I’m proud of you always.

[emperor-palpaminty]

Here! Have a 🍭

Can I humbly request a Wrecker x reader? Maybe a first kiss kinda thing? I love the idea of the reader beating Wrecker in constructing a bomb in the midst of battle and saves all their butts, even though she is just a medic technically, but Wrecker taught her everything. Maybe it's really passionate as an explosion goes off🥺? Full on cheesy action movie moment but it's sweet and adorable!

I will also offer Dave Filoni's hat🤠 as an offering to your writings. This will come in handy for black mail in case your favorite character dies.

You are amazing!

(P.S. - I was the one to ask for the Tangled inspired Wrecker fic! And I loooovveed it! Wrecker is my favorite🥰! Decided to be brave and not ask for another anonymously this time!🙃)

I will accept Pain Filoni's hat, my dumpling, and add it to my collection. I will gladly do this! Cheesy movie moments just get me, ya know?

I'm so glad you liked it!! I love it when y'all are brave so I can see you're beautiful faces (profile pics). Have a 🌹!!

Wrecker ran behind her, blasting wildly at droids. His adrenaline was high, heart racing, and he had probably yelled with joy more than once. The medic ran after him, laughing as she followed, ducking behind him. 

“Trigger happy?” She yelled, eyes sparking dangerously as she grinned.

“You know it, sweetheart!” Wrecker whooped. He turned, shooting rapidly, feeling the medic press her back to his as she fired with her own blaster. “Not bad, doc.”

She grinned, holding the pack in her hand down behind her. “Not too far?”

“Yeah, just under a klick!” Wrecker glanced around, grimacing. "Oh boy."

"What- oop!" The medic squeaked when Wrecker picked her up, hauling her on his shoulder and sprinting in the opposite direction of the approaching rolling droidikas. The medic fumbled on Wrecker's shoulder, wrapping the bag around her arm and hauling up her gun, aiming to try and pick them off. "Can you run smoother?"

"You try carrying me and running for your life!"

She sighed and shifted, her hips resting uncomfortably on his plastoid as she continued shooting. "I'll let you stick with that job, Wreck."

Wrecker laughed and skidded over the red plains of the planet. "Will do, lady!"

She laughed- or maybe that was his shoulder digging in an especially abrasive way against her hips. "How soon can we be there? I wanna get these explosives out of my hands."

"No issue there," Wrecker huffed under his helmet. "I carried you, you can set up the demo."

"Excellent." She chimed, still bouncing on his shoulder as they topped a hill. "It should be soon!"

Wrecker huffed as he skimmed down the sandy hillside, puffs of red following him, and the giant metallic building looked ahead, an overconfident beast. Wrecker laughed to himself again, setting the medic down. It was time to take down the beast. The medic ran towards it, opening the bag and digging through it. "Wrecker!" She yelled. "Cover me!"

"You've got it, doc!" Wrecker turned, peering out from between the divets of the building. He grasped his knife in his free hand, man-handling the gun and rapidly firing into the onslaught of droids.

The medic glanced over her shoulder, eyeing Wrecker in worry, glancing him over. "You're still good?"

"Yeah, worry about the-" Wrecker yelped and ducked, quickly returning to the shooting.

Among the ligaments of the explosive, the medic worked, quickly, and Wrecker swore he saw her lips muttering the mantra he had taught her- steady hands, steady hands, steady hands-

Her grasp tightened and she stood, running towards him and grabbing his hand. "Let's go!"

Wrecker nodded and ran with her, turning to shoot. "You did everything like a showed?"

"Not exactly."

"What-?"

A sound of explosions rippled through the sea of droids, mechanical body parts flying everywhere. Wrecker yelled in delight, running faster, skidding behind a pile of sedimentary rock. He peered out, lifting his helmet up to rest it on his forehead. "What did you-"

"I remembered what you said last time about EMPs," She said, chest puffing up. "I figured we could mash up the electromagnetic signal-tracking with the bomb and have it go off when it picks up the droid's signals. That way it wouldn't have gotten us in just a timed explosion."

Wrecker stared at her, eyes wide, before his whole head practically split open in a grin. "You're so- so-"

The medic nodded, beaming as Wrecker swept her into his arms. She giggled as he dipped her back, lips warm and congratulatory and overjoyed and still on the high of victory. Another explosion rang out as they kissed again, the medic this time pulling gently on Wrecker's neck.

After the glorious exchange of kisses, Wrecker broke away. "Oh!" He pulled back. "I didn't ask ya."

"You never have to ask me for a kiss." The medic grinned, reaching up and rapping her knuckles on his helmet. "I appreciate the sentiment though."

Wrecker grinned, tugging the helmet off his head and tossing it towards his guns. "Can I do that again?"

She rolled her eyes, but was still grinning, lips bursting joyous "Yes," as Wrecker pulled her in again, dipping her back like in every cheesy holovid, not giving a second thought as a third explosion rumbled in the distance.

[helpinghanikan]

Hank McCoy A-Z

Hank Mccoy NSFW A-Z list: 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

In the same way that clothes need to be moved/removed pillow talk is part of having sex. When you’re both breathing heavy and finally manage to separate the conversation starts. Not exactly in the way of sexy talk but more of “so, about what you said yesterday…”

It’s rare that either of you fall asleep after. You’re both busy people and sex is usually just a momentary distraction before getting back to work.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your head, specifically hair and ears. He loves to touch and hold you. Whether it’s in the midst of heavy kisses, and his fingers find their way into your hair. Or during the heat of the moment and sharp teeth take hold of your ear from behind. Even when you aren’t having sex, and you’re leaning against him in the late hours of the evening, he has an appreciation for stroking your hair.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Hank is a smart man, with the glasses and everything, so he knows what precautions to take. That included with the whole…mess that comes with unprotected sex it was just nothing he really cared for. Even in the context of oral sex, it just seems like more work than it’s worth.

Now if you were interested it’s unlikely he’d say no. As he wouldn’t argue and would only give his honest opinion if directly asked. And even then he’d have to ask a few times.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It’s not so much dirt but it is a secret. Mainly that he prefers sex with the lights off, or under the covers. Preferably both, if given the option.

Hank used the students as an excuse., specifically the younger ones. As they will sometimes go searching for the adults. Hank being one of the first they go to. So, the darkness and extra coverings was a safeguard rather than a personal preference.

Now this has nothing to do with you. Absolutely not. But it has everything to do with his own body and feelings towards it. Whether he was young and could hide the mutation with just shoes or older and completely “beastly” looking, he didn’t want to a risk a glance at his own appearance.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

While not a virgin Hank had never gotten seriously close with someone. Maybe a few dates, a few kisses, and a few fucks but not to the point of anything serious, or even taking off his shoes.

That being said anything adventurous would happen to either be brought up by you, or it was something discovered together. This could both be a blessing and a curse as the pleasurable moments would also risk awkward ones.

F = Favorite Position 

Anything where you lead. Although a good man and great lieutenant Hank has never been the take charge person. Better at being guided by others.

This usually equals you being on top. Whether he lays back with you straddling or in a chair, you are more vocal than he. His only goal to see you, to hear you and make sure you are there.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

It should be a concern if he doesn’t make a little joke or smile at some point during the act. Sex is supposed to be a bonding moment, something fun, enjoyable and to look forward to. The idea of just fucking to fucking makes it feel so…medical.

The best is when you get the chance to look into each other’s eyes. Whether debauched and practically a mess or before a single piece of clothing is gone. Hank with jokingly bite at you, ensuring your giggle at the tickles and nips he gives to make the moment less intense than the gaze had suggested.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

In his youth Hank was obsessive with shaving, plucking, and waxing any hair below his head. Early in the morning you’d probably hear him in the bathroom with a razor going or from the little noises of pain that came with tweezers and little hairs.

As he accepted his appearance, and his blue face became one associated with the school this didn’t happen anymore. He still got haircuts and took care of the mane, but it no longer woke you up.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

The romantic side of Hank comes out before anything hot and heavy happens. When he’s helping you undress and ensures that his kisses are gentle, while also firm as he encourages a faster pace towards the actual deed.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Only when you’re away for a long period of time (long being more than two days) does he turn to his own hand. Both of you are very busy people and don’t have the time to think when/where a masturbation session can take place.

Compare this to when you have a lover to return to and it’s not hard to think about his preference.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Not sure if it counts as a kink but morning sex is top on his list. Waking up in the morning and immediately having your body pressed against him. When there isn’t any clear thoughts yet but the both of you know what you want.

Easily the best way to start the day.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

It’s not so much a preference but more of a requirement that sex stays in the bedroom (or office, but that’s once in a blue moon). When you work in a school and a lab the risks of activities outside the bedroom aren’t worth the reward.

The office only became a potential due to a recent lock on the door. This doesn’t stop from constant visitors knocking on the door.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

There’s nothing in particular that piques his interest. The only time he can pinpoint an exact situation is towards the end of the day. When work and life had separated the two of you the entire day and you only know come back together.

It’s in this time that he likes to watch and listen. He listens as you talk about the day, complaining about frustrations and the irritations that caused the incredible urge to get back to your man.

While listening he watches as you move about the room. Not caring about tossing your clothes into the dirty laundry. Makeup, hair and accessories more than a little messy as the shirt is practically ripped off and underwear is shucked off.

By the time you turn towards hank he has something of a glazed look on his face. But you have no one to blame but yourself for that.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Public, absolutely not. Especially as Hank began to be one of the figure heads of the school. Maybe hand holding, a quick kiss or a brief caress but otherwise nothing can leave the bedroom or office.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to give rather than to receive. As good as it feels knowing that he is the one who is creating the pleasure, the noise, that comes out of you is better than any blowjob.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

For the most part this entirely depends on you and what you want from him. All of this starting off with how you approach him; be it hot and heavy while alone or with little kisses when curfew had gone into effect for the students.

Although it’s primarily you he does set the pace. This usually done so with soft kisses the grow firmer and stronger the more he does them. The pace he set is always like this. Heavy but slow.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

This is where the recent use of his office comes into play. Before quickies weren’t a thing; there was no time, too many risks and any number of excuses that kept your pants on.

Now (after that lock was thankfully installed) a quick fix during lunch or between responsibilities are a weekly thing. Not enough to create a reputation but enough for there to be a drawer of forgotten clothes in Hank’s desk.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Hank has an odd relationship with risks. When it comes to himself there’s almost no hesitation. Experiments, missions, sex, there is nothing Hank isn’t willing to at least consider.

When it comes to you, however, that’s a no go.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Although many jokes have been made around the name “beast” Hank about the same stamina as your average man. Usually, one round and you gotta give the man some time; some cuddles and pillow talk until he’s ready to go again.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Sex is more of a side activity to your relationship. Although Hank has a serious praise kink going on he’s pretty vanilla. Seeing sex only as an activity of your relationship rather than a part of it. Maybe if you introduced something, and he had time to think about it, there’d be something more but for the moment there really anything to see.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You are his weakness. Try as he might to tease and toy with you the man just can’t say no. Especially when your voice comes even close to pleading, he caves.

On the other hand, Hank is something that is just asking to be teased. His sounds of whines and simple sentences asking for you, for anything, is sweater than anything could ever be.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Moans, groans, and declarations of love are part of sex with Hank. But the loudest would definitely be you, but this would be from Hank specifically asking you to keep talking during it.

He wants to hear praise; how good he feels and how you are doing. Mix in your own moans and groans. Especially when it’s done with that slight smile on your face. With your hair a mess or when you can’t fully speak without pausing to moan.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Again, praise kink.

Hank has never been to type to hear about how great he is. Not wanting to hear that he was the best you ever had or anything like that. Instead, he wants to hear your thoughts, the feelings that move your back and forth and create the sweat which messes up your hair and makes your skin taste salty.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Just like with his stamina he’s about average with width, perhaps an inch or two longer around seven inches. Not that this has stopped anyone from making more “beast” jokes when they think you aren’t around.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His yearning comes at night. When his thoughts about you were pushed away for so long that it’s the only thing left in his pretty head when he finally finds you.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It’s rare that he’ll go to sleep right after. Rather, after the almost required pillow talk, he’s up and going. Either going over whatever work was done through the day or is getting things ready for the next day.

[baku-bowl]

broke 1,000 followers (the fuck? I don't even make content people), so decided to write up a list of some (but not all, I'll make other lists later) of my favorite Bakugou-centric fic recs. my tastes run towards hurt/comfort, as you'll probably figure from the list. if there are some Baku-centric fics that you've enjoyed that aren't on here, please add them - this is definitely not a complete list of the ones I've read and love, but I'm always up for some recs. <3

fair warning, most of these are wips.

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

Social Media 101 by WindsChild8178

Part 1: Survival Guide to Fucking Up

[Solely Bakugou’s point of view]

Katsuki Bakugou doesn’t have a gentle bone in his body. He’s aggressive in everything he does and does everything with 100% of his heart in it. After the Sport’s Festival, Katsuki starts to get harassed by strangers for his unheroic demeanor. It starts with letters but it doesn’t end there. The moment Katsuki realizes the harassment has entered dangerous territory and he needs to tell someone, it’s already too late.

Part 2: Post Traumatic Life Disorder

[Point of View opens up to Bakugou, teachers and classmates]

When the Dorms are finally built, everyone is settling in well, but things become tense as people begin to realize something isn’t right with the recently rescued Bakugou.

[Cannon compliant right up to after the License Exam]

hands down my favorite fic in the fandom right now. it’s the one that converted me into a Bakugou lover. if you have any fondness for Bakugou as a character then it’s likely you’ve read this one already, but if not, I can’t recommend it enough. incredibly depressing, but with the hope that comfort is coming soon in the next few chapters.

The Kids Will Be Alright, Eventually by NotWithThatAttitude

Bakugou is spiraling in the aftermath of Kamino and his friends are starting to notice. He's stubborn, aggressively independent, and less than willing to dig into his past, but after a breakdown that ends with a painful secret revealed, he starts to get help.

Whether he likes it or not.

Meanwhile, a new kind of villain threatens an uneasy peace following the loss of Allmight. Whispers build as a new narrative slowly takes shape:

Hero society needs to change.

Feat. Therapy, Dadzawa, best boy Kirishima, dysfunctional families, healing, growing up, and the mortifying ordeal of being known

guys.. the medical accuracy of this fic is just... *chef’s kiss*

I rarely see mental health genuinely handled well in fics, but this one goes above and beyond. kudos to the author for doing such excellent research into psychology, and making the application of it in here not-boring. also, while this one does have abusive!Mitsuki, it’s done in a way that feels realistic, and how I usually will see it occur in real life, rather than just for the hurt/comfort feels.

fair warning, the fic can be incredibly triggering (themes of severe depression, PTSD, panic attacks, rape survival, abuse survival, suicidal ideation/attempted suicide, among other things), so be safe and heed the tw’s if you decide to read. legitimately one of my Top Favorite fics in this fandom.

Lock and Key by autochorystalize

Bakugou made a choked, gravelly noise before croaking out a low, “You can’t be serious.” His fingers ached to blow up everything in the room.

“I’m sorry, young man, but you can’t change reality! This sometimes happens.” Recovery Girl clicked through his file, adding a new symbol in a previously empty slot.

- - -

A pair of eyes discreetly locked on to an explosive blond plowing his way forward, parting people in his path. He recognized the kid, of course. Anyone in the underbelly of society would recognize him, after the publicity of both UA’s Sports Festival and the events leading up to All Might’s fall. The uniform he was wearing cast away any doubts about the young man’s identity.

It was a bit of a surprise that the little firecracker presented as an omega.

- - - - - - - - -

Or: there are certain types of evil that seemed too distant, archaic violations and perversions that would never actually threaten bright-eyed heroes-in-training in the clean, modern world...but sometimes those evils aren't as distant as one might think.

remember when I said that I love a/b/o fics that are full of plot and world-building and gender-induced tension? that’s this one. the OC’s are fabulous and you love to hate ‘em. also, it’s the fic that made me fall head-over-heels for the TodoBaku dynamic, so it’s got a special place in my cold, dead heart. 

be warned, there are rather explicit non-con scenes between an adult (OC) and a minor (Bakugou) in this one, but the author warns for them in advance, and you could likely skip those parts without missing too much if you need to.

Never and Always, Eventually by Wawa_Boonliang

"Katsuki can remember the exact moment that he and Deku…that he and Midoriya Izuku became friends. He can also remember the moment he and Izuku became fierce rivals, a time when they were almost enemies.

However, what he remembers most clearly about their relationship is the moment that they moved passed rivals and became something more close than mere friends. Something more like brotherhood, something forged in fire and secured in the middle of a battlefield or in the midst of natural disaster where the number of the dead was climbing ever higher. And then it was torn from him."

Katsuki is given a second chance. A chance to save everyone. A chance to change everything.

But should he?

y’all. I’m a slutty, slutty whore for time travel fics. a time travel fic with autistic!coded Bakugou? it was love at first read.

Lessons Learned by Sif (Rosae)

Rather than the police station, Katsuki's friends bring him to a hospital after rescuing him from the villains. His wounds were minor, but it didn't make having them treated any less important. As it would so happen, Best Jeanist was also brought to this hospital after the attack.

Sometimes, small choices have a big impact on how a story plays out.

classic Bakugou hurt/comfort. this fic opened me up to the potential that could be a genuinely good Best Jeanist & Katsuki mentor-mentee relationship, and I kind of dig it and search ravenously for it in other fics now. I’m also a huge fan of the behind-the-scences Pro Hero Chat group.

Slope by sunfleurmoon

“I’m not a hero. Or a good person,” Katsuki says, giving Aizawa a pointed look, “So leave me alone. I don’t care about the League or UA, or you—” The two years he’s been away have been fine, more than fine, fucking fantastic actually if you ignore the bi-monthly near-death experiences. He doesn’t need this place. He doesn’t miss this place.

And yet, longing, a childish desire to tear up, or maybe blow something to bits, they all twist in his chest like a band of traitors regardless. “—I just want to go home.”

Or: the one where Katsuki and Izuku fail the first term exam, Aizawa discovers their pasts, and Katsuki is booted from UA. Featuring questionable descriptions of villain organizations, a slightly illegal moving shop, and your favorite emotionally constipated badass in distress with a newly discovered penchant for collecting strays.

paaaaaaiiiiiiiin. the hurt is ALIVE in this one. lots of tortured, angsty exploding child goodness. the OC’s are excellently crafted, and the Bakugou & Eri relationship? beautiful. definitely deserves a read.

Ground Zero by WindsChild8178

In the wake of Kamino, Katsuki is tested more than anyone could imagine. Bound by a villain’s quirk to keep his silence or die, he lives each day knowing it might very well be his last. He continues to work towards becoming a hero, keeping his secret from his classmates and teachers, focusing on making it through each day and trying not to allow the panic or depression to get the best of him. When the villain finally corners him with demands in exchange for his life, there is really only one answer Katsuki Bakugou can give.

honestly don't know which I want updated more - social media 101 or ground zero. this author's fics are amazing, and I really wasn't expecting the twist in this one. can't wait for windschild to come back to this fic some day.

The Defect by LadyGreenFrisbee

"Why do you want to win the Sports Festival so badly?" 

Because I want to see if the defect could usurp the masterpiece.

(In which Endeavor holds a terrible secret and Bakugo has to suffer since childhood for it.)

a great concept, and I adore the shouto and Katsuki sibling interaction here. hoping the author will come back to this one some day.

A Name That You'll Remember by Heronfem

Kirishima Eijirou is a Hero. Bakugou Katsuki... is not. Trapped in his toxic workplace and increasingly desperate to get out, Red Riot's days are only brightened by a new villain known as Caution, who's not exactly villainous and keeps accidentally doing good deeds. But when a real villain appears, a threat from the past that demands that Red Riot make the ultimate sacrifice to keep the public safe, Bakugou is forced into saving the day... and eventually, Red Riot himself.

sob story good guy villains are my weakness, this fic is a gem, and I'd kill for the sequel.

Our Hero by AnonymousTwit

He felt everything jerk to the side and throw his balance off before he saw anything, dust clouding his vision and irritating his lungs as the earth itself opened up to swallow them whole. For a single moment, in a millisecond's time, his wild eyes locked with Raccoon Eyes', hers alight with fear and adrenaline-fueled desperation. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that it was the first time she'd looked at him with something other than long-deserved hatred in days.

And then he was free falling.

Or

After a particularly nasty encounter between childhood friends, the class learns about Bakugou and Midoriya's dark history and practically ostracizes Bakugou while trying to defend Midoriya. An earthquake during an outing has all sides regretting their decisions.

just fucking tear apart my self-sacrificing faves in every way imaginable while their loved ones watch on in terror. 💖🥰💖 this one is heavy on the Bakusquad and Class-1A feels, and VERY heavy on the Mina & Bakugou relationship (platonic).

Running back the tape, watching it replay by Faralyne

For someone ripped from their time, ripped from the few but strong relationships built by time and personal development, by self-reflection and swallowed pride, ripped from the one thing that made him feel worthwhile and needed and put-together, and forced to forge everything over again—Katsuki thinks he is handling it pretty fucking well.

Or

A villain’s quirk sends a 29-year-old Bakugou back in time to his middle school days.

am I a sucker for time travel? yes. am I a sucker for vigilante!bakugou? also yes. am I a sucker for this fic? literally refreshing the page in wait for an update as we speak.

Liability by sandelf

After All-Might dies rescuing Bakugou from the League, Bakugou is determined to prove it wasn't for nothing.

But the world is against him, his grief is overwhelming, and his stability is splitting at the edges.

very self-indulgent bakugou angst. tw for harassment, severe depression, and suicidality.

Special Mentions:

How To Win The Sport Festival: A Step By Step Guide by mhwright

Short re-imagining of the Sports Festival Arc if Shinso had planned a little better and worked a little harder to win the Sports Festival and if the match-ups had been slightly different. Self-indulgent fic of watching him succeed.

this is completely Shinsou-centric, not Bakugou-centric, but I love and adore it and am dying for a sequel. Shinsou is Best Boy here and you'll be rooting for him the whole time.

[tenthgrove]

Oh this is a very self indulgent rq and I hope you're okay with it but La Squadra (individual) with a schizophrenic s/o? Ofc if you're not comfortable writing for this you can ignore this request!! Sorry in advance

La Squadra With A Schizophrenic S/O

La Squadra x Reader (GN), Romantic, SFW

CWs: descriptions of psychotic episodes

Formaggio- Coming from a big, close family, Formaggio can name a relative or two that suffered from the same condition as you at one point or another. While he doesn't know the specifics he has a profound sympathy for you, and wants to know what he can do to help. Conscious of the gaps in his own knowledge, Formaggio lets you lead the conversation when you're well enough to do so, directing him as to what he could do to support you and how to tell when you're about to enter a crisis. He's never been great at self-care himself, but understanding the benefit it could have for you, he invites you to work together on things like laundry and shopping so you can stay on top of everything as a couple.

Illuso- He is a little unnerved to hear of your condition, for the sole reason that he doesn't know how to help you, but he wants to do whatever he can to be the best boyfriend for you, even through your illness. He breaks into the houses of about 5 acclaimed mental health specialists to badger them about what you're going to need, and isn't afraid to steal you some medication if you're struggling to source that for yourself. He uses his ability to his advantage in caring for you, for instance (provided you're well enough to acknowledge the fact you have hallucinations) taking you to the mirror world during an episode, to be secure in the knowledge that nothing can get to you there. It's also useful for emergencies, since Illuso can make sure you can't hurt yourself in there.

Prosciutto- Your boyfriend has always had a natural caring streak that makes him more suited than most for helping you through the demands of your illness. He is excellent in ensuring you take your medicines on time and eat and drink enough to keep going, and he has the patience and humility needed to understand he mustn't take what you say personally when you're in the midst of a truly severe episode of delusions. On your healthier days, he reassures you whenever necessary that despite how things may look, you will get better and live a fulfilling life, that you are stronger than you think. And rest assured that even if you do continue to relapse, he will be there for you, through thick and thin.

Pesci- Knowing you suffer from such a profound mental condition is naturally a source of worry for Pesci, but you mean so, so much to him and he's going to do everything possible to make things easier for you. One of Pesci's greatest strengths in terms of helping with your schizophrenia is that he takes care of you while still letting you remain in control. He'll never force you to go out and do things you don't want to or let him know what's going on in your head when you would rather not talk about it. He's also great at helping you set up small goals to feel like you're achieving each day, without pushing you beyond your limits. Whenever you tell him you managed to drink 2 litres of water in a day, or completed all your therapy homework if you have access to it, he's always very proud of you.

Melone- Much to his benefit, Melone knows a fair amount about psychology and conditions such as yours. He has a good knowledge off the bat about how your condition affects daily life, what symptoms to look out for when things are worsening for you, and how schizophrenia would typically be treated. If you aren't already, Melone gets you on medication stat, going so far as to bribe a Passion-affiliated doctor to meet with you and give their professional opinion about which drugs would suit your unique mental chemistry best. Though he appreciates it isn't for everyone, Melone is also well-versed in several schools of alternate medicine, for instance meditation, and will offer to try these with you in addition to your doctor-prescribed medication during your better days. He will watch you stringently to monitor your condition, and act quickly should he catch it getting worse.

Ghiaccio- You would be surprised to learn that for someone so short-fused and impatient, Ghiaccio is actually incredibly sensitive to those with mental afflictions and neurodivergences. It's probably because he's never exactly had a clean bill of mental health himself, so he can get where someone's coming from when they explain they struggle with this or that for mental reasons. Schizophrenia, now, he doesn't have any experience with first-hand but he knows it's not to be taken lightly and will mentally rehearse what to do if you have an episode so he can respond in the best possible way. Instead of trying to refute your hallucinations or delusions he sympathises with how frightening they must be, ensuring you always feel comfortable coming to him about your experiences if needs be.

Risotto- In spite of his intimidating exterior, Risotto is the sort to support his love ones through anything. It does not matter how severe or frightening your schizophrenia may seem, Risotto will approach it without judgement. Like many of the others, he will secure you suitable medication through any means necessary, and help you in remembering to take it each day. Perhaps he could start himself on vitamins or something so you can have pills to take together at a set time? He's very good at coming up with little ideas like that to make the process of self-care more easy for you. When you are truly quite severely ill, he will put everything aside to watch over you, even if you are so deep in your schizophrenia you can't even recognise his love for you. He will stop at nothing to keep you safe and happy.

Sorbet and Gelato- This isn't something the couple talk about often, but it's pertinent to the situation and you are their lover after all, so you may as well know. Gelato was schizophrenic for a good few years a while back, but has since recovered. So yeah, Gelato knows what you're going through and Sorbet has experience with being around someone with the same condition. Gelato shares with you the sorts of things that helped him stave off a crisis when he was suffering himself, but appreciates that no two cases are the same. Sorbet helps with your routine and calls up the same people that helped Gel while turning a blind eye to his mafia affiliations. All in all, the past experience really helps and you always feel like you can talk openly about your schizophrenia with your two boyfriends.

[bbangsoonie]

one more minute

member: sangyeon genre: angst word count: 2,487 synopsis: survival of the fittest is the reigning rule of nature. so when a zombie apocalypse breaks out, you don’t have much hope but sangyeon is set on keeping you safe. warning(s): death

When the apocalypse first broke out, you lost all hope and will. With your physical condition, you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long. And quite frankly, you didn’t want to.

Your chances of survival were low. Your asthma and lack of athleticism didn’t give you a good hand. And on top of that, you weren’t sure if you wanted to survive if it meant being unable to live.

What were you fighting so hard for? To merely stay alive in the midst of chaos?

But Sangyeon refused to let you give up. He claimed responsibility for your life and pushed you to fight. You two banded together with a group of other survivors. And for a while, you created a system that worked. The thirteen of you managed well by relying on each other.

Until you lost Hyunjoon.

Then the group was shaken to the core. Fear kept you all locked up in an abandoned warehouse. And inevitably, food and supplies began to run low. Including necessary medical supplies.

You always felt bad about having to risk everyone’s lives to raid hospitals. You knew that your existence was more of a burden than of help. You couldn’t contribute much but required a lot of things. Honestly, you were tired of it as well. But you were too ashamed to tell that to Sangyeon, who had given his very best into keeping you alive.

After another asthma attack, you were laying on a makeshift bed with your hand tightly wrapped around the last inhaler. And as always, Sangyeon remained by your side.

Meanwhile, Jaehyun, Juyeon, and Kevin had returned empty handed. Their search for food had been futile and only ended up with Kevin sustaining an injury. You watched as Jacob tended to his wounds and Changmin rationed the remaining cans of food.

“This world has gone to hell,” your breath rasped in your throat.

“Hey, it’s not completely unbearable. We still have each other,” Sangyeon forced a smile.

You and Sangyeon had grown up as childhood friends. Of course, you were no longer just friends anymore. Yet, you also weren’t anything more. You couldn’t afford the luxury of dating in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. You were too busy meeting basic needs to pursue a romantic relationship.

The love between you two remained unspoken but you both knew each other’s feelings. It was why you continued to live in such a shitty world. Sangyeon was quite literally the reason you were alive. Without him, you would have died long ago.

But you had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to last much longer. At least, not without obtaining more inhalers.

“How are you holding up, Y/n?” Haknyeon asked.

You weakly offered a thumbs up in response. He understood the true meaning behind your answer.

Chanhee was discussing logistics with Younghoon, who was quietly nodding his head as he listened. Seeing Sunwoo and Eric having a serious conversation brought you a sense of pity. Hyunjoon’s death had stripped them of the last sliver of joy that they had left.

Sangyeon, who had been observing your features, brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. At his touch, your attention returned to him.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you more medicine,” he reassured.

“I want to go alone this time,” you hesitantly stated.

His expression immediately hardened as he quickly rejected your idea. Not wanting to hear more, he stood up to leave but you caught a hold of his wrist.

“I can’t keep placing you guys in danger for me. It’s time I pull my own weight,” you insisted.

“Then I’ll go with you,” he said.

You knew he wouldn’t back down. So with a sigh, you meekly nodded.

When Sangyeon brought up the proposal to the group, Jacob instantly shook his head. He asserted that it was way too risky. The group had always traveled outside in trios, minimum.

But you held your ground, even after Jaehyun offered to go as well. Unable to win over your stubbornness, the group reluctantly agreed to let you and Sangyeon go by yourselves.

When the morning came, you awoke to Chanhee packing you a backpack full of emergency tools. He had tried to stay aloof during his time with the group but you could tell that he had grown fond of everyone. He didn’t show it but Hyunjoon’s death had impacted him a lot.

“You have to return. No matter what. You must come back unharmed,” he demanded as he handed you the bag.

You surprised him with a hug. It took him a second to register what was going on before he slowly patted your back.

“Thanks for everything, Chanhee,” you smiled.

“Don’t say that. It sounds like a good-bye,” he frowned. “You can thank me later.”

Chuckling, you nodded as you slung the bag around your shoulders. You said your farewells to the rest of the members, promising to come back by the evening. Eric, as always, teared up watching people walk past the doors of safety.

You and Sangyeon stepped into the pending hands of doom, unaware that it would be the last time walking down these flight of stairs for one of you.

Sangyeon’s hand tightly held yours as you two navigated your way to the hospital. Luckily, the trip there was rather uneventful. The streets of Seoul were eerily quiet. You could barely remember what the booming city used to look like.

Once you got to the hospital, you snuck past roaming zombies in the hallways to quietly reach the supply room. Carefully closing and locking the door behind you, you let out a sigh of relief.

You began to grab bottles of whatever medicine there was and stuffed them into your backpack while Sangyeon searched for inhalers. Unfortunately, there were only a couple left in stock. A wave of disappointment and stress washed over him.

Peeking at his troubled expression, you tried to show him the bright side. You now had a bunch of disinfectants and pain killers.

At that moment, a crash was heard outside. You clung onto Sangyeon’s shirt and your eyes widened in shock. He held a finger up to his lips, signaling for you to stay silent as he tried to hear what was going on beyond the door.

“Bomin!” a female voice shrieked before another crash was heard.

Then you heard it. The crowd of growling zombies rushing towards whoever was outside. Your heart pounded fiercely against your chest as they struggled to fight off the monsters. And then broke when human voices were no longer heard.

When you and Sangyeon didn’t arrive by nightfall, Sunwoo couldn’t help but assume the worst.

“You don’t think something went wrong, do you?” he nervously bit his lip in concern.

“No. There must have been a slight delay. They’ll be back tomorrow,” Younghoon gulped. His words were more to convince himself rather than Sunwoo.

“Let’s trust them and wait,” Juyeon said, comforting Eric.

Meanwhile, you were stuck inside the supply room. Leaving was no longer a feasible option with the hoard of zombies outside the door. So you spent the night there, sleeping next to Sangyeon to stay warm.

When you woke up, you knew that you couldn’t hide forever. If you didn’t die outside, you would die of starvation inside.

After coming up with a strategy, you and Sangyeon prepared to escape. You waited until most of the groaning sounds faded further away to slowly open the door and check your surroundings. To your relief, there were only a few of the creatures nearby.

Sangyeon’s heart sank at the sight of blood on the floor. It hadn’t been there the day before.

Quietly, the two of you crept towards the emergency staircase. As you went down a few floors, you relaxed, thinking that you were now safe.

It turned out that it was too early to let your guard down.

Right before you got to the basement parking lot, you heard a familiar noise that sent chills down your spine. You didn’t have time to warn Sangyeon before a zombie jumped on him. He fought with all his strength but the surprise attack had caught him off guard. He was struggling to stop it from tearing him apart.

Without thinking, you flung forward to shove it off of him. The action prompted the zombie to focus on you instead. You yelped as you were thrown to the ground and panicked as you tried to avoid its aggressive mouth.

In unlucky timing, you felt a sharp pain in your lungs.

“Oh no,” you thought. You couldn’t be having another asthma attack. Not now. Not when you were already on the brink of death.

That brief moment of weakness was enough for the zombie to gain an advantage. You screamed in pain when you felt another sharp pain. This time, it was on your arm.

Sangyeon barely managed to kill the zombie by bashing its head into the wall. Your hands shook as you desperately rummaged through your bag to find an inhaler. By the time you sprayed the drug, Sangyeon rushed to your side.

In a hurry, you tugged your sleeves to cover the bite mark. He helped you sit up as he made sure you were okay.

“Y/n, are you crazy? What were you thinking?” he yelled.

“You’re safe. That’s all that matters,” you weakly smiled. You tried your best to act fine but your mind was occupied with the pain from your arm.

You leaned on him as you entered the empty parking lot. Finding refuge in an unlocked car, Sangyeon urged you to rest for a few hours before making your way back home.

Home. What a funny word.

In the span of a year, a rundown warehouse had turned into your home. And before you knew it, a group of strangers had become your new family.

Your head was already starting to blur. Flashes of memories flooded your thoughts.

Sangyeon, your best friend. Your could’ve-been, should’ve-been, would’ve-been lover. You still vividly remembered the day he pounded on your door after the mayhem first broke out. Since then, he had been your survival partner. Even throughout all the turmoil, he always brought you a small gift from every outing. In the spring, it was a flower. In the fall, it was a cookie he managed to find.

Jacob, the angel. He was a breath of fresh air in a society where people’s hearts had turned stone cold. He had been the one to gather the survivors together.

Younghoon, the quiet one who took care of people behind the scenes. Like Chanhee, he seemed distant at first. But he was just shy and clumsy at expressing himself.

Jaehyun, the fighter. He was the first to volunteer for any task. He always burdened himself with the responsibility of keeping everyone out of harm’s way.

Juyeon, the one everyone relied on emotionally. He could sense when you were down and brought it upon himself to cheer you up.

Kevin, the selfless one. He prioritized others’ needs before his own. He had trained extra hard to become one of the strongest members.

Chanhee, the secretly soft-hearted one. Your last memory of him handing you the backpack brought a small smile to your lips.

Changmin, the level-headed one who turned into an innocent child when hanging out with the younger members.

Haknyeon, the goofy one who had matured way too early. Despite his young age, he was skilled and dependable.

Sunwoo, the one whose heart was too pure for this world. You hated to see the light in his eyes slowly fade throughout the months.

Eric, the moodmaker who received so much love from everyone. He truly cared for each and every member and never lost touch with his humanity.

And lastly, Hyunjoon. The one who had departed from the world too soon. He had so many unfulfilled dreams and you missed his bright smile.

By the time you regained consciousness, Sangyeon had fallen asleep next to you. You shakily took a breath as you examined the wound on your arm. You knew you didn’t have much time left.

You glanced over at his sleeping face. He seemed at peace. Wanting this to be your last memory, you spent some time watching his chest slowly rise and fall in rhythm. You endured the growing pain as you prayed for just one more minute with him. Just one more second.

Eventually, it became too hard to hold back the groans that fought to escape your throat. You dug into your bag to find the gun meant to be used as a last option. Your grip on the weapon tightened as you trudged away from the car.

Before you got too far, however, Sangyeon stirred from the sounds. Alarmed by your sudden disappearance, he quickly exited the vehicle to see you with a firearm.

“Y/n,” his voice held so much fear. You didn’t have the confidence to face him.

“It’s too late,” you choked.

It was only then that he finally noticed the blood dripping from your arm. He felt his world crumble down as you started to convulse.

“It’s okay,” he said as he approached you. “I’ll still take care of you. I’ll make sure that no one hurts you and that you won’t hurt anyone either.”

“I don’t want to become one of them. You know I’d rather die than become something that’s stuck between life and death. Something that threatens your life,” you cried.

“But I can’t let you die!” he yelled.

“It’s time to let me go, Sangyeon,” you begged as a tear rolled down your cheek.

“Y/n, look at me. Please,” he pleaded.

You didn’t want him to see you like this. But you didn’t have a choice when he tugged at your sleeve to make you turn around. Your skin was already beginning to discolor and he knew what was coming.

Full of desperation, he pulled you in for a hug. One arm clung onto your torso as the other embraced your head. He sobbed into your neck, making you weep as well.

“I lived a lot longer than I should have,” you assured.

“24 years is not long at all,” his voice cracked.

Wanting to spare him from having to shoot you himself, you slowly detached yourself from him. You had to do it yourself soon.

“Take the bag and go back to the others,” you sadly smiled.

“I can’t leave without you,” he cried. But he knew he had to.

You told him to close his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see your end. With your vision clouding more and more, you stumbled away from him and hid behind a van. You fell to the ground and your hands trembled as they brought the gun to your head.

“I love you, Lee Sangyeon,” you whispered before pulling the trigger.

a/n: heavily inspired by the character park yoori from sweet home and golden child’s “burn it” music video

[hermannsthumb]

I love your writing so so much!! Prompt: middle-aged husbands! Newt gets back from a work trip with some salt and pepper scruff he didn't have time to shave and Hermann goes a little weak in the knees

oh ho ho....also everything im writing this month and next must necessarily be set a snowy setting sry. as always thank u to k-sci-janitor for bouncing ideas w me over discord mild sexy stuff below cut!

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When Newton stumbles through the front door in a flurry of snow and clatter of suitcases two weeks after he left for a research trip, Hermann notices two things; the first, that the cliche about absence making the heart grow fonder really is true, the second, that Newton’s cheeks (when Hermann rushes to meet him in a rather embarrassingly fast fashion and allows himself to be scooped up into Newton’s arms, of all things) are distinctly...rougher than usual. Rougher, and pricklier. “How’s the hottest scientist in the world?” Newton says, after an entirely inappropriate amount of kissing. The neighbors could see, for goodness’ sake. “God, dude, I missed you so fucking much.”

“Close the door,” Hermann laughs. “You’re letting all the heat out, and the bloody snow in.”

But Newton merely kisses him again and again, cornering him against the wall and settling his hands low on Hermann’s hips. His cheeks scratch Hermann’s skin; Hermann shivers, not knowing whether from it or the chill of the air. “How much did you miss me?” Newton murmurs.

“Not enough to put on a show for the neighbors,” Hermann chides, though he shivers again when Newton nuzzles against him. He taps the end of his cane against the sodden laces of Newton’s boots. “Mm, ah, come on, I’ve lit a fire, and, and made us tea, take your—wet things off, and—”

Newton steps back with a grin. “You gonna warm me up, Hermann?”

“With a fire and tea,” Hermann says. He shuts the door before more snow can drift in to melt on the hardwood. “Er. For now, anyway. And do hang your jacket this time.”

Newton stumbles out of his winter things in record time, and then stumbles after Hermann the moment they’re tossed haphazardly onto the coat rack. “It’s so…neat in here,” he says, marveling as they pass through the tidy kitchen to get to the equally tidy sitting room, where the fireplace blazes away. “Did you do anything besides clean while I was gone?”

The truth of the matter is that Hermann (lost to mathematical abstraction, and lacking a partner to snap him out of it) let his clutter—half-finished tea, discarded notebook pages, broken pencils and chalk—pile up on every available surface throughout the two weeks of Newton’s absence, and only remembered the previous evening that this was not the usual state of their flat and he ought to see to it very quickly before Newton arrived home. He hopes Newton doesn’t take a peek inside their study any time soon. “Er, something like that,” Hermann says. “Clean, and miss you horrendously. How was the trip?”

“Long,” Newton says. He sits on the couch and drags Hermann down with him. There’s something different in his face Hermann can’t quite put his finger on—he’s changed somehow, Hermann is sure of it, but the question is how? Has he resorted to his spare pair of glasses? No—these are the ones he usually wears; Hermann can see the miniscule crack at the bottom of the left lens, sustained after a particularly energic round of lovemaking in which Hermann rolled right over on top of them. Not that any of that is at all relevant, of course. “Lonely. Fascinating, though, I wish you’d come with me.”

Newton was excited about his trip for weeks. Even the extinction of his object of study couldn’t make him any less one of the top k-biologists, and he was brought in to oversee the salvaging of some of the very last kaiju remains in existence—preserved all these years since the closure of the Breach by the ice of Alaska. Newton sent picture after picture of it, the snow, him bumbling around in the snow in Hermann’s borrowed winter parka, the team he led bundled up in parkas of their own. Hermann knows he ought to ask about it and ask how the salvage efforts went; he knows he ought to ask about the cold, and the snow, and whether or not the other remaining k-scientists were anyone they’d worked with before. Instead, he can’t seem to stop squinting at Newton. “Have you cut your hair?” Hermann says. “Or styled it differently, perhaps? Only there’s something so different about you, I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Different?” Newton says, frowning. “What do you—?" Then he laughs. “Oh! Yeah, I was wayyyy too busy to shave. You’re looking at, like, about as close as I ever get to a full-on beard.” He drags his hand over his jaw, and it rasps audibly. Of course—how did Hermann not realize that from Newton’s scratchy kisses? His stubble, usually so carefully maintained (even in the midst of the war), is overgrown enough to verge on thick, and for the first time Hermann notices the decent smattering of grey across it. It’s—well—it’s hardly a bad look on him. Rather, Hermann might say it’s the opposite. It makes him look older, a bit more…er, distinguished. “You like it?”

Hermann remembers the marvelous way it scratched across his skin. “Hmm,” he says.

Newton laughs again, and tugs at the front of Hermann’s sweater. “C’mon, take this off already. It’s been two weeks, dude.”

Hermann can’t argue with that logic.

Later, in bed, as Newton—having volunteered selflessly for the duty of big spoon—snores away happily at Hermann’s back, Hermann considers recent developments. He’s never been dissatisfied with Newton’s appearance before; he’s never looked at his husband and thought oh, I wish his hair was a bit different, or I could do without those glasses. Certainly never I want him to have a big, magnificent face of grey stubble that tickles my neck and my chest and my thighs and… Hermann presses his face into his pillow and groans in mortification. Oh, but God, it is an improvement. It’s an improvement Hermann never knew Newton needed. Not that he did need it—it’s just—Oh.

Newton mumbles something in his sleep and rolls away from Hermann. His stubble catches and drags on the back of Hermann’s neck, and Hermann stifles a moan into the pillow this time. Newton intends to shave it off, Hermann knows. Hermann watched him unpack his suitcase in the bedroom, watched him carefully tuck his shaving kit back into the medicine cabinet with a laugh and a reassurance of that very fact (take a picture while you can, it’s coming off tomorrow), all while he felt the tingle of irritated skin between his thighs that Newton had left behind on the couch. He snuck a glimpse at it when he changed into pyjamas—a faded red that matches that on his neck.

To explain to Newton why it is imperative he not proceed with his planned shave would be far too mortifying an experience for Hermann to undergo. And Newton would certainly never let him hear the end of it. No; it would be better to take matters into his own hands. Hermann swings two socked feet to the floor and reaches for his cane as quietly as he can manage.

Newton’s back-up disposable razors are snapped in two and buried in the bottom of the trashcan, beneath two weeks’ worth of dental floss and paper Dixie cups. His nice shaving kit proves a bit more of a challenge, not in the least because Hermann bought it for him as a birthday gift not long ago, and the thought of intentionally damaging it makes him cringe. He settles on simply stealing all the razor attachments and hiding them at the bottom of the spare hand towel basket. Hopefully, by the time they turn up, Newton will have long-since decided to grow out his stubble even further.

Newton stirs very lightly when Hermann tucks himself back beneath the bedspread and Newton’s arm. “’S the matter?” he mumbles.

“Had to use the loo,” Hermann whispers back.

“Mm,” Newton says, and presses his lips Hermann’s shoulder once before his breathing slowly evens out.

Hermann lazes in bed late the next morning. Late for them, anyway; pseudo-retirement hasn’t managed to knock a decade of strict routine out of him and Newton yet, and they still wake and dress before the sunrise like the war never ended. However, a soft, warm, and jetlagged Newton in his arms is hard to pull himself away from, especially with nothing but a foot of snow outside to look forward to, so he lets himself drift happily in and out of dreams for a good hour or so. Until Newton’s cell phone alarm startles them both up, that is. “Ugh,” Newton groans, smacking around on the bedside table for it. “Stupid thing. Where—”

He left it on Hermann’s bedside table. Hermann switches it off.

“Thanks, dude,” Newton says. He yawns. “Got a meeting this afternoon about the, uh, samples. Never get a break.”

Hermann hears him walk to the bathroom. He hears him open the medicine cabinet. He hears the zip of his shaving kit bag. “Uh,” Newton says. He pokes his head into the bedroom. “Hermann, do you know what happened to my razor?”

Hermann sits up and feigns a frown. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Like, all the parts are gone,” Newton says. He rifles through the kit again, as if to be sure, and shakes his head. “Yeah. They’re all gone. Shit, did I leave them at the base?”

“Oh, no,” Hermann says. “Your nice razor? The one I got you?”

Newton ducks back into the bathroom; Hermann hears him rattle around in the medicine cabinet again. “All my razors are missing. What the hell? I have a meeting in a few hours, I can’t show up looking like—” There’s a loud clatter, as if Newton knocked all their medication bottles over into the sink, and he swears. “Oh, well that’s fucking peachy.” He slams the cabinet door shut.

“Newton, come back to bed,” Hermann calls. He and Newton have limited time before they’re meant to start their responsibilities for the day, and he would like very much to enjoy that time to the fullest. “You’re making a mess of things. I’m sure you’ve just misplaced your razor—perhaps it’s in your suitcase.” When Newton doesn’t immediately bend to his command, Hermann rolls his eyes and lowers his voice. “Newton, darling,” he says, though this time in more of a purr. “Come back to bed.”

Newton is back and on Hermann in a flash. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he says between kisses. His fingers creep up Hermann’s pajama shirt and graze over Hermann’s ribs before tugging the shirt off entirely. “Hermann, I missed having sex with you so bad. You have no idea. Ugh.” He grinds his prick, already hard, into Hermann’s clothed thigh, and nips at his ear. “I kept thinking about your stupid sexy face, and your stupid sexy dick, and your stupid hair—” He burrows himself into the crook of Hermann’s newly bared neck and shoulder and kisses his collarbone, and Hermann moans at the scratchy sensation of his stubble shadow before he can help himself.

“Newton,” he gasps, “oh, bugger—”

“Ha, yeah, you like when I talk about your sexy dick, babe?” Newton says. “It’s so awesome and sexy, I can’t wait to—"

“Not that,” Hermann says. “Kiss me there again.” Newton obliges; Hermann whimpers and shivers, and (before he can help himself) confesses aloud “Oh, that damn beard of yours… I want it all over me…”

Newton pulls away with a frown. “You do?” he says. “Wait. Hermann—did you do something to my razor?”

“No,” Hermann lies. He wiggles around in a desperate attempt to get Newton’s stubble back on his skin, but Newton only pulls back further. He sighs. “Er. Perhaps. They’re just hidden, is all.”

Newton’s frown flicks up into a grin, and he laughs. “Dude, you could’ve just told me. You’re so dumb. So you like when I do this, then?” He dips back down to kisses a trail along Hermann’s sternum, making sure to graze his cheeks over his skin at every inch. “Or this?” He ducks beneath the covers and nuzzles at Hermann’s abdomen.

“Yes,” Hermann moans to the Newton-shaped lump under the blanket. Newton’s fingers work open his drawstring and slowly inch his pajama trousers down. “Yes, Newton, ah—”

“Or—”

Suffice to say, Newton keeps the beard.

[carewyncromwell]

Cinderella AU time again at last, baby!! Let’s do this!

Florence’s “Christmas Witch” is inspired by Italy’s Le Befana, who like Santa Claus/Father Christmas and his many variations serves as a holiday gift-giver to young children. Given that in this universe, Florence is more favorable toward magic than its rival nation Royaume, I figured them having a similar tradition was appropriate.

The background depicted in this picture is based on this window from a guest apartment in the Chateau de Chambord in France, though of course this is the outside of such a window, rather than the inside. Damn it, do I hate backgrounds with a burning passion. XD;;

In my headcanon, Orion suffers from anxiety. Anxiety disorders aren’t uncommon among children who were raised in orphanages, and a common visual cue for anxiety is clasping one’s hands in front of them, which Orion does constantly in the game Hogwarts Mystery. Plus two types of therapy prescribed for dealing with anxiety are meditation and regular physical activity (like Quidditch! :D). For safety, though, I also want to put in a trigger warning for this part -- be advised that there will be some discussion of PTSD and war-related trauma, around the middle of this.

Previous part is here -- full tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

The morning after Royaume’s Winter Festival, Skye was surprised to find Orion in Florence’s palace library. Admittedly he was balancing on one foot with one leg crossed over the other on the step near the top of a tall ladder while reading, which was very typical of Orion -- but the book was a very thick volume on the weaving of various fabrics, and he was devouring it with intense interest while vaguely humming a tune under his breath that Skye didn’t recognize.

“Oh willow, willow, willow...willow...”

Skye cleared her throat to try to get the Prince’s attention. “Hey...Orion?”

Orion, however, was too focused on what he was reading. It took Skye striding over, stating his name twice more, and finally giving the ladder a light smack to get his attention.

“Orion! Mind coming back down to Earth for a minute?” she said, her voice oddly tense. “I need to talk to you.”

Orion stopped humming and looked up from the book at last, his expression rather pleasant.

“Skye...you’ve returned from the front.”

Skye frowned. “Yeah...Dad’s nearly recovered from his injuries. Penny Haywood wanted to thank you for the herbs you picked up.”

Orion inclined his head slightly. “I’m glad to hear your father’s condition has improved.”

Skye nodded, looking faintly guilty.

“...Orion...I’m sorry about what I said the other day,” she said uncomfortably. “I was just so worried about Dad and his troops, and you being all wrapped up in this girl who works for the enemy...it just...it rattled me, I guess.”

“Florence and Royaume should not be enemies for all time,” said Orion patiently. “If there is to be peace, the mistakes both sides have made in the midst of the War will have to be forgiven.”

“I know,” muttered Skye. “And...well, I know how you feel about the War -- about war and fighting in general. It just feels like what you’re doing is so slow, and people are hurting, and...”

She hung her head.

“I know it’s no excuse, for what I said, but...I am really sorry.”

Orion’s black eyes softened. “It’s already forgiven and forgotten, my friend.”

Skye looked very relieved. Her face burst into a smile.

“...Thanks, Orion. I gotta admit, I...kind of want to meet this ‘Lady Cromwell’ now, after everything you told McNully and me about her. She sounds a bit too good to be true, but...well, I never really thought I’d ever hear of a Royaumanian defending magic...especially one of their courtiers.”

Closing the book in his hands with a quiet snap, Orion lowered the leg he had bent beside the one he was balancing on.

“Fortunately I think you’ll have the chance to do so very soon,” he said with a smile. “Last night was an unquestionable success.”

He leapt down the rungs of the ladder with alternating feet, all the way back down to the floor with a light thump.

“I went to the Winter Festival and met the Prince of Royaume himself.”

Skye gave a start. “You what?”

Orion was beaming from ear to ear. “It was all thanks to Carewyn, appropriately enough. She was the one who arranged it so that he could sneak out of the palace disguised as a peasant and attend the Winter Festival, even with the King and Queen keeping him so strictly contained. Prince Henri himself even said as much, that it was all Carewyn’s doing. Imagine...because of her, the two princes of rival nations were able to meet on completely neutral ground as equals. And now that we’ve been introduced and I have a better fix on Prince Henri’s character, I have a great opportunity to open negotiations in full.”

Skye looked rather impressed, even as her face twitched with discomfort.

“That’s...smashing, Orion,” she granted halfheartedly.

Orion raised his eyebrows curiously. “I would say so...but your aura doesn’t seem to agree with your words.”

With a deepening, guilty frown, Skye reached into the hanging pocket attached to her faded blue skirt and took out a sealed letter, which she handed to Orion.

“The King asked me to bring this back for you,” she said lowly, as Orion opened it and began to read. “He’s requested you and McNully to join him at the front.”

Orion’s face had lost all of its pleasantry, leaving it very stony and unreadable, as his black eyes scanned the letter once, twice, three times.

“McNully’s gone to get the coach ready,” said Skye lowly. “He said that he’d meet us just inside the castle gate.”

The ride from the Florentine royal palace to the battlefield at the northern-most border of Royaume and Florence was a stressful one. Once anyone exited the capitol’s walls, the War was immediately much more visible, since most of the War was fought on Florentine soil. Plus many of those magicians who specialized in casting spells were encouraged to settle closer to the wealthier hubs of the country, so that they could cast temporary illusions to obscure certain buildings whenever the opposing army got too close. That was how people such as Florence’s court magician, Severus Snape, had attained such a respectable status.

Orion spent the entire coach ride sitting with his legs crossed, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, and his eyes closed so he could meditate. Despite his eyes being closed, however, when they arrived at their destination, he could hear the shrieks of wheels on old wagons, the whinnying of unsettled horses, and suppressed moans of pain, and he could smell the burnt wood, gunpowder, and indescribable smell that could only be labeled as “death.” Even just the sounds and smells brought all the memories flooding back -- his and his mother’s house set ablaze...the rearing horses with Royaume blue and red on their saddles...the deafening explosions and the gray ash that rained from the sky...his mother’s light-less eyes and his own labored breathing and clutching, shaking hands...

Orion had never been blind to how run-down much of his country was, but its problems only became more apparent the closer one got to the border, and especially to the war front. Every building was brand-new and cheaply built, for they no doubt had been built and rebuilt several times over and their occupants didn’t have the funds to build it back as well as before. And then once one approached the army camp itself, there were just about no buildings or fortresses at all, since it was so hard to keep them from being demolished. Instead all the Florentines really had were tents that wouldn’t stand up to most any elements. In the freezing cold of winter, many had been crowded under groves of trees, in a vain attempt to try to protect them from the snow that had buried their neighbors, and there were large bonfires set up everywhere where the soldiers gathered, just to warm their bundled hands and feet. One small fire featured a cooking pot and some sort of foul-smelling soup -- it took Orion a moment to realize the smell was burning leather.

It was tragic to think of how many men back in the Florentine capitol like Lord Malfoy had become very rich because of the increased danger of shipping goods through war zones, while the men who actually had to stay in that war zone had to cook their own boots and eat them for sustenance.

Orion did not open his eyes even when the carriage came to a stop. It was proving harder to find his center of balance when the smell of gunpowder outside made the memory of terrified screams and crackling wood pound against his eardrums.

Inhale. Exhale. Let go. Find your center. Balance.

He felt someone lightly touch the top of his clasped hands. When he opened his eyes, he saw that it was Skye.

“...We’re here,” she mumbled. Clearly she knew she was stating the obvious, but didn’t know what else to say.

Orion looked from her to McNully sitting next to her, his eyes very dark even though his face was rather unreadable. McNully looked very grim as he slowly opened the door to the coach. As soon as he did so, someone outside announced very loudly,

“Presenting his Highness, Crown Prince Cosimo Amari VII, heir to the throne of Florence!”

With a swallow, Orion slid his legs down to the floor and, unclasping his hands at last, he hoisted himself up as best he could, took hold of the door frame, and climbed out of the coach. He held his head up high and didn’t shrink, but his eyes were rippling turbulently like oil under candlelight as they surveyed the barren landscape.

Men by the dozens were being carried away on stretchers toward a large off-white medical tent -- even more were being carried away from it or, worse, not even coming close to it at all, for it was already too late. They were too badly injured for Penny Haywood’s potions to save -- for as powerful as magic could be, life and death were inevitable things. The gray-haired flower witch who’d given Orion the charm around his neck had told him so, the Prince recalled, as his hand absently came up to trail over the circular pendant. He’d asked her if she could stop someone from dying, and the sweet grandmotherly woman had looked upon him with an incredibly sad, pitying look.

“Death isn’t something anyone can stop, I’m afraid. One can put it off, certainly...I’ve been able to give people some extra time with my potions, but only by putting in a lot of my own time and energy. And even after putting in that time and energy, there are still plenty of people who I couldn’t work fast enough to help. That’s one of magic’s Chief Principles -- potions take time, but their effects last longer.”

The Prince of Florence tried to bring the cooling, calming sensation that had accompanied the charm around his neck when the woman had first given it to him back to his mind, as the smell of death that hovered over the camp made his heart chill and his stomach churn.

Orion could sense Skye climbing out to stand beside him, and not long after, McNully had lowered himself into the wheeled chair the footman detached from the boot of the coach. By the time McNully and Skye had joined him on the ground, a royal entourage had approached them, introduced by the captain who’d announced Orion’s arrival --

“Presenting his Majesty, Cosimo Amari V, Master and Commander of the Florentine Army, Lord of the Southeastern Sea, King of Florence!”

An older man about Orion’s height with a short mane of graying dark hair and just as strong of a jaw strode forward. Although he greatly resembled Orion visually, however, their physical attitudes couldn’t be any more different: as relaxed and modest as Orion was, the King of Florence appeared traditional and proud. They did, however, both appear quite detached, in their own way -- Orion because he didn’t want to be on the battlefield at all, and the King because he seemed to not be entirely sure how to address his adult son. But frankly, considering that Orion had been snatched out of poverty and made Crown Prince just to replace his older half-brother, Cosimo VI, after he was assassinated by the Royaumanians earlier that year, that wasn’t completely surprising.

“Cosimo,” the King greeted him formally. “Good that you’re here.”

Orion didn’t respond, his face close to impossible to read as he clasped his hands in front of him again.

The King’s emerald green eyes scanned his son’s face briefly before he brought up a hand to take hold of his shoulder and lead him further into camp.

“Come -- we have much to discuss...”

Skye and McNully followed Orion and his father to the largest and brightest white of the tents, pushing the flap with the official Florentine gold-and-green-flower emblem aside to walk inside and gather around a large table. There was a large map laid out on it with many dark green and blood red miniatures and model canons scattered across the surface. Skye’s father, General Ethan Parkin, was also present -- he had to sit in a chair rather than stand like almost everyone else due to him missing a leg and being forced to lean on a crutch, but he sat up very straight with boastful levels of pride. Once he, his generals, and the Prince were all gathered around the table, the King immediately set about discussing McNully’s newest military strategy, which would involve splitting the army in half so as to covertly attack Royaume’s forces from two directions, so as to not only better pinpoint where their canons were currently positioned and avoid them, but also to prevent them from retreating.

It soon became apparent to everyone in the King’s tent, however, that Orion was not in the mood to discuss any of this. He stayed quiet for the majority of the meeting, clasping his hands in front of him, and his eyes remained on the far edge of the map on the table, far away from the battlefield. In his mind, he tried to find his center, even though the sounds of the anxiously whinnying horses outside brought back the memory of the ones that had nearly stampeded him so many years ago, when his part of town was set ablaze.

Find your center. Find balance. Find peace.

Carewyn’s soft, content face as she sang under the willow tree beside the Royaumanian palace moat rippled over his mind, and he felt his heart rate slow.

“Oh willow, willow, willow...shall be my garland...”

Orion tried to stay there on that lake bank in his mind as the King discussed how essential it’d be to prevent any Royaumanians from getting in or out of their camp during their siege -- for, as General Parkin pointed out, if any help arrived, then it would prevent the Florentine Army from wiping out their enemy and ending the War. McNully himself looked rather unsettled by the thought of “wiping out” the enemy and was quick to say he’d only intended for the Royaumanians to be fenced in, like in a game of chess, but the King of Florence clearly didn’t think it was enough.

“This newest batch of drafted soldiers are our last resort. Unless we wish to expand the draft to take all those over the age of 18, regardless of health or status, to take their place, we must bring this War to an end, once and for all. And to do that, our enemy must be decisively crushed.”

He looked up at Orion.

“That is why, son, I’ll need you to take command of the left flank of the army.”

“What?” said Skye and McNully, both taken aback and horrified.

“Your Majesty,” McNully said very quickly and firmly, “I-I fully intended that General Parkin would -- ”

“Believe me, lad, I’d normally be chomping at the bit to do it myself,” said General Parkin with a rather sour expression. “But considering that I can’t even properly stand yet, his Majesty decided it might be a good idea for me to...sit this one out.”

“Prince Cosimo will need to know our army as well as I do,” said the King firmly. “Even when we bring this War to an end, he’ll need to be able to lead them in battle, in order to protect our kingdom. And from what I understand, Cosimo, you’ve been gathering intelligence in Royaume itself for a month now without arousing any suspicion...I believe your flair for stealth would be perfectly suited to the task at hand.”

“I’m afraid I must disagree,” said Orion in a very quiet voice.

The King halted. Orion had looked up at his father out the side of his black eye when he’d first addressed him, and although his expression had been very restrained, his eyes had gone very dark. His hands clasped a bit tighter as he faced the rest of the King’s military officers.

“This meeting is adjourned. Please excuse me.”

He turned on his heel and made as if to leave. The King, however, roughly grabbed his shoulder.

“It most certainly is not,” he said, his green eyes full of both disbelief and urgency. “Cosimo, this is not up for debate -- I require you here, to lead the men.”

Orion didn’t turn around. “...You require my aid, to lead our men in this battle?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” said Orion levelly. “Then should I choose not to cooperate, you will not be able to act on this strategy at all.”

All of the King’s officers looked appalled as Orion left the tent. The King’s eyes grew very wide, flickering with desperation as well as some righteous anger, as he chased after him, stepping in front of Orion to prevent him from leaving.

“Cosimo, this is our chance to end the War once and for all! To bring peace to Florence, to right all of the wrongs the Royaumanians have done...”

“Can one right any wrongs by committing more wrongs of their own?” murmured Orion.

“War is not that black and white, my son,” said the King sharply. The surrounding soldiers were starting to take notice. “Sometimes the ends must justify the means -- it’s something all young kings must learn, and I would prefer you learn it before I’m gone, rather than after making a big mistake.”

Skye and McNully had rushed out to join Orion.

“All people make mistakes,” Orion said softly. He tried to leave for a third time, but the King refused to let him pass.

“But you are the Crown Prince of Florence!” said the King. He was clearly getting frustrated now. “Therefore your mistakes are much more consequential -- when you make mistakes, the people you cherish, that you want most desperately to protect, pay the price!”

His father’s rising volume wasn’t helping Orion’s mood. His anxiety had already been spiking in the tent, but it was only getting harder for him to focus on his breathing with the King continuing to press the issue and the unpleasant, sickening smells and sounds of the battlefield surrounding him.

“Think of your friends, Cosimo,” said the King in a strained voice, “your home, your subjects...”

His friends... Skye’s and McNully’s faces rippled over Orion’s mind, before being joined by KC’s, Badeea’s, the Weasleys’, and Andre’s at the Festival...Carewyn’s...Carewyn rushing up to him at the palace gate -- sighing tiredly and handing him her uncomfortable white heels -- dancing in spirals around him, her red lips turned up in a smile and her ginger hair flying free --

Another battalion was coming through, with stretchers and horses loaded up with wounded soldiers -- the smell of death was suffocating --

“Think of your mother, Cosimo,” said the King. “Could you bear it if any other little boys lost their mothers, the way you did?”

“Don’t talk about -- !” gasped Skye, looking righteously furious, but McNully quickly grabbed her arm to urge her to be quiet. 

Skye’s objection wouldn’t have helped, though. The mention of Orion’s mother, combined with the smell of fire and the sound of horses, brought the images flooding back -- his mother’s light-less eyes -- his own gasping for breath --

Orion closed his eyes, trying to find his center, even as his clasped hands started to sweat.

Return to Carewyn -- return to the lake shore, to her voice --

Carewyn’s brother was on the battlefield, fighting for Royaume -- if Orion charged into battle, could he not end up bringing about her brother’s death? Could he bear seeing Carewyn’s heart broken, upon learning that the only family she had who truly understood and loved her was dead? Could he bear the thought of all that blood being on his hands...the blood of his soldiers and Andre’s -- the blood of Carewyn’s brother -- ?

“This is your responsibility, Cosimo,” said the King, as he seized Orion’s shoulder and squeezed it. “You must lead our men into battle -- ”

SMACK.

To everyone’s complete and utter shock, Orion had actually ripped out of the King’s grip, backhanding his hand away with force.

The King flinched back, looking stricken. Orion stared at his father, his black eyes very wide and devoid of both consciousness and its usual composure. There was no rage or violence in his posture, but his face was very white and his hand -- still hovering in mid-air -- was trembling slightly.

“Forgive me,” he said at once, his voice very soft and unusually fragile. “Just...please, don’t touch me.”

He strode past his father, right over to the coach he’d arrived in. Instead of climbing inside, however, he immediately yanked one of the black horses free from its restraints and climbed up onto its back.

“Cosimo!” the King cried, but it was no use. Orion had already sharply flicked the reins and rode off into the distance with speed.

Orion didn’t stop riding until he’d once again reached the palace gate of Royaume. He ended up tossing off his well-tailored olive green doublet on the way, so as to leave his more peasant-like white undershirt behind. His hair also came loose of its ponytail in transit and Orion didn’t care in the least to try to restrain it again. His heart was pounding so fast and his blood was so spiked that all he could focus on was finding peace -- and in that moment, peace was a person. He just needed to hear Carewyn’s voice...needed to see her face...

Orion tied his horse up not far from the palace and hopped the castle wall. He knew Carewyn wouldn’t be expecting him -- before the Winter Festival, they’d said they’d meet up on the 9th, which was coincidentally after Florence’s Christmas Witch festivities. Even so, and even though Orion knew Carewyn would worry about him getting in trouble, he couldn’t think of the risk to himself. His heart was just too clenched with anxiety for him to place his focus on anything other than reaching her -- even though once he reached the castle, the tension that squeezed every nerve in his body in a vice grip only increased with the knowledge that he had no way to figure out where in the castle she’d be or how to get her attention. As fate would have it, however, as Orion paced through the gardens, clasping his own sweating hands, a familiar tune rippled over the air.

“The sweetest sounds I’ll ever hear are still inside my head...

The kindest words I’ll ever know are waiting to be said...”

The song itself was one even Orion knew -- it was a rather well-known love song in both Florence and Royaume, and one of his mother’s favorite songs when she was alive. But more importantly, the voice singing it was the wonderfully emotional, deep-as-the-sea tone he’d so needed to hear. Orion’s heart gave something like a spasm of relief as he swept around the perimeter of the palace, staying low behind the hedges, until he spotted an open window in a nearby tower where the voice was coming from. When Orion reached the tower in question, he couldn’t stop himself from collapsing against the wall back-first, closing his eyes, so he could just focus on her voice and let it wash over him.

He was suddenly so short on time. The King was so desperate to end the War that he was now open to slaughtering the enemy, if it served that goal. And as confident as the King was that the plan McNully had suggested would put an end to the Royaumanian army for good, Orion himself doubted it would or even could. The cycle of vengeance could only continue ad infinitum until either everything was destroyed or one royal decided to be the better person and stop the fighting. But how could Orion hope to pursue the diplomacy he’d wanted, once the King had done something so ruthless? How could he hope to appeal to Prince Henri or his parents, after such a severe, fresh wound? And Carewyn...how could he face her again, if her beloved brother died because of his own father’s orders?

He needed time. He needed peace. He needed...

“...is waiting somewhere...somewhere for me...”

Breathe. Find your center. Inhale. Exhale.

Orion barely knew what made him do it, but he knew he had to get Carewyn’s attention somehow. So he squeezed his hands, opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and started to sing the words in return.

“The sweetest sounds I’ll ever hear are still inside my head...”

Carewyn had been cleaning one of the guest suites when she suddenly heard her own song echoed back to her from outside the window. She straightened up abruptly.

Who...who is...?

The voice was male and oddly wispy -- the singer was certainly not trained or very comfortable singing, but he still sounded so earnest...almost desperate.

“The kindest words I’ll ever know are waiting to be said...

The most entrancing sight of all is yet for me to see,

And the dearest love in all the world is waiting somewhere for me --

Is waiting somewhere...somewhere for me...”

Carewyn leaned her broom up against the wall and looked out the window. When she looked down, she caught sight of a familiar mane of dark hair and slightly-too-clean white shirt.

“Orion?”

She recoiled from the window at once, her hands flying to her messy ginger ponytail as she looked over her burnt orange and beige servant’s dress. She was in no state for him to see her like this --

She looked into the mirror hanging up on the closest wall and swallowed.

Carewyn knew she was being foolish -- Orion was going to find out sooner or later that she was nothing but a servant...but...

She’d liked being a lady, for him. She’d liked being someone he could respect. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him with the truth of who she was, really, it was more...her being ashamed of herself. She hadn’t had a choice of whether or not Andre or KC or even the Weasleys knew that she was the child of Charles Cromwell’s disowned youngest daughter and a dead-beat merchant with no dowry or prospects. But Orion hadn’t known her. She’d been able to be who she wished she could be, if just for a moment, when they first met...and in every moment after, she found herself that bit more reluctant to put that mask away.

Carewyn wanted to be a brave, noble, graceful, sophisticated lady for Orion. She wanted to be someone he could admire, instead of the insignificant, pathetic, lying fake who’d sold her and her brother’s souls and futures away forever, just to try to save his life. A girl who, truthfully, was no better than her terrible family -- who had brought every bit of unhappiness she’d ever experienced on herself...

Orion started the song again down below, in an attempt to get Carewyn’s attention -- Carewyn, up above, quickly fashioned her hair into a pretty braid in front of the mirror and sang under him as an echo, as if wanting to reassure him that she could hear him.

“The sweetest sounds (the sweetest sounds)

I’ll ever hear (I’ll ever hear)

Are still inside my head --

The kindest words (the kindest words)

I’ll ever know (I’ll ever know)

Are waiting to be said --

The most (the most) entrancing (entrancing) sight of all (sight of all)

Is yet for me to see,

And the dearest love in all the world...

Is waiting somewhere for me... (Waiting somewhere...)

Is waiting somewhere...

Somewhere for...me...”

Once she was finished with her braid, Carewyn quickly dusted herself off and dashed over to the window.

“Orion!” she whispered only as loudly as she dared.

Orion opened his eyes, turning around and looking up at Carewyn with a very soft smile adorning his lips.

“Beautiful as ever, my lady,” he complimented her, inclining his shoulders in a short bow. His hands were still clasped in front of him. “Like the sweet Nightingale that sang for the Emperor.”

Carewyn took several quick glances around, visibly worried. “Orion, what are you doing here?”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Standing, at present. Though I was singing just a moment ago -- or at least trying to. My voice cannot compete with yours, I’m afraid.”

Carewyn couldn’t completely keep the smile off her face, even despite the concern she felt. Her smile, however small, was like a warm, soothing hand on Orion’s heart.

“You’re lucky that no one else heard you!” Carewyn hissed down with as much reproach as she could manage.

Orion smiled wryly. “Most assuredly. I’m certain that Madam Ali and the Weasley brothers would hardly enjoy my ‘accompaniment’ as well as they do yours.”

The sweat on his hands had gone cold, making Orion actually shiver a bit as he found his body temperature and heart rate finally starting to calm. His smile flickered slightly on his face, creating a much more pensive and murky expression.

“...Will you take a ride with me, Carewyn?” said Orion, very abruptly. 

Carewyn blinked. “What?”

Orion squeezed his own hands together, but tried to keep his voice level and his shoulders straight.

“I realize we’ve made no plans today, and that you are enamored of the work you do at court...but you so enjoy riding your horse, and we’ve not yet taken a ride together, out into the country. There are such beautiful valleys east of here -- perfect for stargazing, I should think, once the sun sets.”

Carewyn’s eyes drifted away, back into the guest suite she was cleaning. The windows weren’t washed yet, and she still had to bring the dirty sheets down to the laundry so she could have them clean in time for tomorrow morning...

Sensing Carewyn’s discomfort, Orion said in an oddly insistent voice, “I’ll wait for you, should you say yes. Whatever you must do, I’ll wait until you are finished.”

Carewyn’s gaze snapped back down to Orion in surprise.

She’d never heard him sound like that before. As mysterious and unreadable as his face was, she could still sense that something was off. Perhaps it was how his black eyes searched her face -- or perhaps it was the tenseness in his clasped hands.

Carewyn knew she was in no state to go riding with Orion in her dusty servant’s uniform, especially when she still had work to do...but truly, she didn’t have to wash the windows today, after having already done them yesterday...and she could always fetch the sheets early the next morning before coming up to the guest suite to change them out.

If something is wrong, I can’t leave Orion to deal with it alone, she thought to herself.

Even if she was only a fake and a liar, Carewyn wanted to be there for him. He deserved to have someone there for him...even if it was just her.

And so with a swallow, she looked back down at Orion with a very solemn, but gentle look.

“...I’ll need to change into something warmer and fetch my horse...but I’ll be down in thirty minutes. Can you meet me outside the gate?”

Orion’s heart flooded with relief that he couldn’t completely keep off of his face.

“I’ll be waiting, my lady.”

[agent-cupcake]

So, what do you think the femblem cast would do for jobs irl? Appreciate your stories by the way, beasty and the bard is my favorite so far

I’m trying to work through older asks more like I used to with HxH, shorter form stuff, you know? Anyway, this is silly so a good starting point (also thank you! I love writing that story and going through my inbox I saw so many kind messages. I didn’t reply to them, but know that everyone’s words mean more than I can say)

Dimitri - There’s fanart of him as a firefighter and I like that. However, I guess it’d make more sense if he had a net worth we could only dream of and inherited a company of some sort from his father so that’s what I’m going with. Aside from running that, I think Dimitri would be someone who uses his fortune to engage in a lot of philanthropic work. Also, bless modern mental health care. 

Dedue - If we’re going aesthetics, Dedue would also be a Firefighter. Or a famous chef, famous for his intimidating appearance contrasted with his world-famous dishes. Although, hear me out. Dedue was someone whose city or w/e was destroyed by negligence or conflict of some kind and he works with Dimitri to protect his people and built his home back up.

Felix - Raised in a wealthy military family, Felix enlisted and served in the Army as soon as he was able but became disillusioned with the military after the death of his brother and returned home. After that, he became super involved with martial arts and wound up opening a gym, inadvertently taking in other young and disillusioned kids and giving them a healthy method of self-expression.

Sylvain - Rich boy. Bad reputation. E-Celeb. He lends his skills to the social media inept Dimitri to promote and help with all of his philanthropic work. He does a lot of good things but keeps it under wraps to maintain his superficial image. 

Ingrid - She runs Dimitri’s personal security force with a side gig of anonymous restaurant reviewing.

Annette - Chemistry professor at a university and rabid overachiever who makes consistent strides in the science world and inspires her students. She knows the Faerghus crew because she’s gone to them to make a case for funding scholarship programs.

Mercedes - Mercedes went to school to became a nurse, which is where she met Annette, and then she met Felix through Annette. Since many of the kids at his gym aren’t likely to go to get actual medical help, he calls her if there are any incidents. At the same time, she is an active participant in her local church and charity drives.  

Ashe - Okay I think he’d have a really idealistic sense of justice as a kid, but that slowly became warped as he grew up. He met Ingrid through Felix’s gym and wound up getting a position on Dimitri’s security team, seeing the work that Dimitri does as a sort of justice.

Edelgard - I wanna say like a politician or lawyer, but the fictional kind where they have solid values and beliefs and do good things in the name of justice. Edelgard would be more vocal about her desire to change things entirely rather than follow the system as it is.  

Hubert - Obviously he works with Edelgard. Sharing her ideals of justice, he acts as a behind the scenes confidant of sorts. Irl he’d be a bit less simp-y, working with her because he believes in her ability to make a change rather than some blood-intrinsic duty.

Ferdinand -  Similar to Edeglard, but more invested in the idea of working within the system to make a change. Despite that conflict, they do work together quite often, respecting the ideals of the other and acknowledging that ultimately they do want the same thing.

Dorothea - Musical theater STAR who is very passionate about social issues, namely the treatment of younger and less famous people in the industry. She uses her platform to promote up and coming actors and all of the backstage production crews that are so often ignored and abused.

Caspar - Head of Edelgard’s security for sure. Grew up a rich kid but separated from his family pretty much completely, deciding to make his own way in the world.

Linhardt - Tech guy. Cybersecurity maybe? At some point, he got hired by Edelgard and works with Caspar bc ofc he does. He makes it clear that it’s not an issue of morality that makes him loyal, but because it’s a fun challenge. 

Petra - An ambassador from a smaller country trying to establish more friendly relations for her people. People underestimate her because of her language skills, which actually works out for her sometimes because they don’t expect her political maneuvering. 

Bernadetta - An extreme introvert who inherited her father’s company but manages most of it remotely, also focusing on her artistic endeavors. Probably has a super popular webcomic appealing to comically exaggerated introverts everywhere.  

Claude - He attended a prestigious university and quickly fell into a career in journalism. Not like, trashy tabloid style, but actual journalism that is well researched and meant to hold people in power accountable. His background and source of wealth are mysterious, leading people to spend an inordinate amount of time speculating about his race online. Claude also uses memes and snappy editing as misdirection. 

Hilda - She’s famous for being famous and rich. However, in the midst of all of that fame, she befriended Claude and actually came to stand for a cause. But on the lowest of keys, most of what she posts is makeup reviews and glamorous photos. Gamer girl.

Lorenz - His father's Thomas Wayne, but like... The bad Thomas Wayne from Joker. Weapon production and everything. Lorenz changes that, though, focusing more on those Bruce Wayne endeavors. Except he’s not Batman, but Batman’s flamboyant, eggplant-headed brother. I love Lorenz I’m sorry boo

Ignatz - An artist, of course. Works in animation, maybe? He’s drawn all of Hilda’s graphics and sprites and stuff. She even paid him!  

Raphael - He does a lot of manual labor, taking on odd jobs or anything in the name of supporting his sister. 

Lysithea - After graduating top of her class, she began working in the medical field, researching cures and other helpful medicine. Claude keeps her discoveries from going unacknowledged, and Edelgard has actually had a donation drive to fund Lysithea’s work. 

Marianne - She owns and runs an organization that focuses on taking on animal cruelty and taking care of mistreated animals. She’s incredibly organized and efficient in the way she handles things and sees results through her various charities and request for funding. 

Leonie - She works in a private security organization once run by Jeralt, taking on whatever job she gets hired for. Leonie is more interested in the work than the jobs. Drinking, too.