#i made the whole “oath of loyalty” up off the top of my head

[charlietheepicwriter7]

"Grandfather."

Ra's knew who the boy was the moment he'd snuck into the room. He'd allowed the child--more man than child now, but everyone was a child compared to him--moments to steel himself while Ra's refrained from acknowledging his presence. The boy's breath was barely audible but unsteady, and a drop of something fell to the floor.

His grandson was injured. "Danyal," he greeted and finally gazed upon him for the first time in seven years.

Danyal had grown into his father's height, yet stayed lean in regards to his musculature. His black hair had grown out of the League-regulation haircut, held back in a messy braid. He held himself as strong as he could, but kept an arm wrapped around his stomach. His shirt--standard American teenage garb, he dismissed--was spotted with blood and he could see bandages poking out from under the cloth.

With great care, Danyal knelt before the Demon Head and recited the Oath of Loyalty.

Ra's watched.

The boy's tongue, fat with English, spoke the League's variant of Arabic with the grace of a mace to the head, yet his words were clear. He took his time speaking the oath, carefully sounding out words, working hard to avoid mispronunciation. The Oath in question was the older version, from before Deathstroke's insurrection, but Danyal spoke it with a calm certainty that it would be accepted.

And without a doubt, it would be accepted.

Talia's eldest son had been born from her body instead of through science, a mistake that nearly cost her the child and damaged him upon birth. While the best doctors in the world saved his life, Danyal Al Ghul would always be weak in a fight, always prone to illness, always struggling to excel. When it became clear that the boy couldn't become the next Demon Head, Ra's sent Talia to create a replacement while arrangements were made for her first child to be taught business and science, for the betterment of the League. Danyal, very much his father's child, thrived in his intellectual pursuits while Damian grew and developed into a budding assassin.

But Danyal was more like his father than he'd ever knew. Ra's couldn't miss the signs of one of his family turning away from the League. Not the mission--Danyal had written several university level papers defending the environment by the time the boy was 10--but Ra's methods...

Ra's had a conundrum. Danyal was a dedicated conservationist; once the boy was an adult, Ra's was certain he'd take the world by storm and bring the League to new heights. But if he forced his methods onto Danyal, he could create an enemy of him, just as his father was.

Ra's gave Danyal an offer; Danyal would be allowed to leave the League and live a normal life if and only if he faked his own death in such a way that reinforced Damian's loyalty to the League of Assassins.

Danyal had been hesitant at first, but past his test with flying colors. Instigating one of the more unstable assassins into organizing a coup, cutting the insurgents off near immediately, but "dying" protecting both his younger brother and mother. It was a masterful performance. Even Talia hadn't known about the deceit.

And yet, here he was, on his knees, pledging loyalty. Danyal knew what that meant, knew what he was returning to, which morals he would be allowed to keep.

"And what do you bring with you, child of no one?" Why should the League accept the return of this child, who left once before?

Danyal met his eyes. "I bring with me, my team, who are loyal to me and me alone. I bring with me, research surrounding the Lazarus Pits, in origins and further uses for the waters." Ra's raised an eyebrow, and Danyal smirked. "I bring with me, my knowledge, nurtured within this very home and sharpened in the world outside. I bring with me, my weapons, built with my own hands. I bring with me... my body, finally healthy and whole." He brought his head down to the floor, trembling with pain. "I bring my whole self to the Demon's Head, for Him to accept or reject."

Ra's smiled. "By the shadows that guard our order and the blood that binds us, I accept this oath. From this day forward, you are an instrument of the League, a harbinger of justice, and a weapon in the hand of Ra's Al Ghul."

Danyal returned to his feet, swaying percariously. He needed immediate medical attention. Despite this, he continued, "Long live the League of Assassins. Long live Ra's Al Ghul."

And he collapsed onto the floor.

[bbrandy2002]

Little Shit:

Part 1: Wrapped Around A Finger

This is for week 96 of @wackydrabbles prompt: I can't -- I have a deadline. Prompt will be in bold.

Okay, so I couldnt fit all of this into the 2000 word limit and had to break it up and didn't have the heart to cut.

@kingliam2019​ you made a request for a Little Shit story on New Year’s Eve and it only took 5 months to come up with something, so this one is for you.

If you're unfamiliar with the Little Shit series (because it has been over a year since I wrote anything for it) Nikolas is Liam and Riley's 5 year old mischievous son who just can't help from wreaking havoc, especially toward Drake. He enjoys getting a rise out of him even if he does love his Uncle ... for the most part.

Warning: Crude Language. Mention of Covid and vaccinations.

Word count: 1928

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

Returning from the stables one afternoon, Drake was stopped at the palace door by security -- again -- for not wearing the required mask to enter.

“Mr. Walker, I’m afraid you need to have a mask on before I can allow you inside. I have to tell you this every day.”

“That because I fucking live here,” Drake grumbled as he snagged the offered surgical mask from the guard. 

“Not in the common areas, Mr. Walker.”

“You know this whole virus thing is just a conspiracy and Liam is using it to control all of us, right? He’s gone mad. This shit’s never gonna end.”

“I understand, sir.” The guard waited patiently as Drake begrudgingly slipped the mask over his face. “Perhaps, though, there is an alternative, one where you wouldn’t have to wear one anymore. They’re offering free vaccines in room 105 today. If you get the shot, you won’t need to wear a mask when you come inside,” the guard cajoled.

Drake let out a humorless laugh.“I’m sure that’s exactly what Liam wants: make a guinea pig out of me. Pump me full of that radioactive shit and in five years I’ll have a tail growing out of my face. No thanks.” Drake disregarded the information and moved past the man.

“But, sir .. .they’re giving away bottles of whiskey to the first 100 recipients. Last I heard, they were close to reaching that number. Top of the line stuff too.”

Drake turned on the heel of his work boots, glaring back, before asking skeptically. “Whiskey? They’re giving away alcohol to get this damn shot?” The guard nodded in response.

“Glenfiddich -- 1955, I believe. The King paid for it himself.”

Drake’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s a $90,000 bottle! And they’re just giving them away if you get this shot?”

“I … um … yes. His Majesty wants to reward those who are doing their part to create a healthier and safer Cordonia. He won’t rest until every last citizen is vaccinated from this dreaded virus. We can all fight this … together. What do you say, Mr. Walker? Will you help stop the spread?”

“For a $90,000 bottle of whiskey? Hell yeah! I’ll grow two tails out my heads for -- hold on a damn minute …” Drake burrowed his eyes into the guard who was sweating bullets, desperate for him to leave. “Where the hell is Nikolas at? This whole thing reeks of him..” Drake’s eyes began darting around the perimeter in a feverish search for the little prince’s battery operated car. “That little shit is blackmailing you, isn’t he? I should have known.”

The guard straightened and answered in a solemn tone, “I’m a serious professional, Mr. Walker. And I take your accusations of being anything but, demeaning to the loyalty and oath I’ve given to the Crown. How dare you stand there --”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.” Drake ran a hand down his weary face in frustration. “It’s just that kid is the bane of my existence. I’ve had a long, hard day at work and I’m in no mood for his fucking stunts.”

The guard waved him off. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ve heard all about the stuff he’s pulled on you.” He leaned in closer and spoke in a hushed tone, “Between you and me, he’s a little pain in my ass too; always coming down here acting like he runs this place. If you ever need help teaching that kid a lesson, I’d be happy to help.”

Drake arched a brow. “Loyalty to the crown, huh?” The man regarded that retort with an awkward shrug. “Yeah, he needs his ass busted, that’s for sure. Liam thinks he just needs a little more love. I’d like to show him the Bianca F. Walker way of love.” He slammed his hands together.

The guard chuckled. “I’m with you on that. He needs something done; he’s out of control … Anyway, you should probably head on up there and get your shot -- and whiskey -- before they’re all out. I wish I’d have waited to get mine until today.”

Twisting his face in doubt, Drake walked around the corner and leaned up against the wall as he pulled out his phone. Something just didn’t feel right, and he determined the safest thing to do was shoot off a quick text to his best friend.

Drake: Liam, are you really giving away Glenfiddich, 1955, to get the Covid vaccine?

He waited a brief moment until a response came through; he looked down at his phone and read:

Liam: Yes.

Drake: Is that all you have to say about that?

Liam: Yes.

Liam: I am in meeting for Cordonia.

Drake tilted his head to the side and scratched at it as he stared at the odd message. He typed out another response.

Drake: What kind of meeting for Cordonia? And with who?

Liam: Top secret. Can't tell you.

Drake: Uh-huh. Where’s Nikolas?

Liam: With Riley and baby in Vallteria

Liam: Shit. Valtoria

Drake: What’s the capital of the United States?

Liam: Damn it Drake I’m in a meeting!

Drake: Then hurry up and answer

Liam: Washington D.C.

Drake: Who shot me at the costume ball?

Liam: You son of a bitch. IM IN A MEETING!

Drake let out a heavy groan and decided to just call Riley. He knew without a doubt Nikolas took Liam’s phone again. If he called Riley, though, there was no way the boy could pretend he was her.

Picking up almost instantly, Riley answered cheerfully, “Hello. Queen Riley speaking.”

“Riley, it’s Drake. I was just wondering if you and Liam were really giving away whiskey for getting this shot? Sounds a little fishy to me.”

There was a moment of silence, then a clicking noise, followed by a long beep, before Riley replied. “Yes. We. Are. Giving. Away …. Whiskey. Get.The.Shot.Drake.”

“The hell is wrong with your voice?”

“I.Am.In.Valtoria.”

“Riley, why the fuck are you enunciating every word?”

“I. Have. A. Cold. And. Must.Talk.Slow. Nikolas.Is.With.Me. And. I. Must. Get ... Going. Bye. Drake ...You. Ass. Hole.” 

Drake rolled his eyes and slipped the phone in his back pocket. “He’s got her phone, too. Damn that evil-ass kid.” He hesitantly made his way down to room 105; it wouldn’t hurt anything just to open the door and see if there was anything legit about this. As he approached, a lovely lady he knew from the kitchen exited with a big smile on her aging face and a bottle she cradled in her arms; he recognized it almost instantly as the Glenfiddich.

“Miss Milly,” Drake greeting kindly and held the door open for her. “You’re looking as lovely as ever.”

“Oh, you.” She laughed bashfully in her grandmotherly voice as she stepped into the corridor. “You’re always flirting with me, Drake. One of these days, I’m going to make you take me out on a date, buy me dinner, and give me a peck on the cheek at the end of the night.” 

Drake smiled back fondly at her. “You just tell me when, Miss Milly, and I’m there.” He motioned to the bottle in her hand. “Say … couldn’t help but notice that bottle of whiskey you’re carrying around; where’d you get that at? That brand doesn’t come cheap.”

“Ohhh, I know. But I heard they were giving shots in that room right there.” She pointed with a crooked finger. “And they said I was the 99th person to stop by, and gave this to me after getting my shot. I couldn’t believe my luck. And they only have one bottle left. I can finally put my grandson through college.” 

“That’s great! And you said there is still one more bottle left?”

She nodded her head. “Yes. But you better hurry. One of the chefs is on his way here for a shot as well.”

Drake hurriedly kissed her on the cheek and opened the door. Thank you, Miss Milly!” He stepped inside, then stopped and whipped his head back out the door. “Milly, wait. Have you seen Prince Nikolas today?”

“Yes, he left with the Queen after breakfast this morning. I believe they mentioned going to Valtoria.”

Drake rubbed his hands together anxiously and thanked her. He’d known the cook for years, she’s the sweetest person he knew. There was no way she would cover for Nikolas, and Drake couldn’t imagine the boy would have any dirt to hold over her head.

When the door shut, Nikolas grinned mischievously from a dark alcove where he was parked in his black 12V Mercedes Benz S63. “This is the day I’ve been waiting for.”

He set his laptop and both parents' phones in the passenger seat and slowly pulled out. He paid $100 to Milly and asked her to put the bottle back in his father’s liquor cabinet and rolled a few paces to room 105.

======

After filling out medical forms, the palace doctor ushered Drake behind a curtain where a long rectangular table and folding chair sat. Taking the seat, Drake watched the doctor slip on a pair of gloves and pull a small tube of lube out of his lab coat pocket. Drake furrowed his brows in confusion. “Heh. What’s the lube for?” he chuckled lightly. “I’m just here for a shot, man. Nothing else is going in me.”

“Just relax, Mr. Walker. It’s all part of the process.” A squirt of clear liquid was squeezed onto the doctor's two gloved fingers as he held them up. “On your medical forms you denied having a physical exam in the past year. I just need to do a quick exam and check for rectal polyps.”

Drake started laughing in amusement, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve got to be shittin' me. So let me get this straight. I can’t get a shot until you stick your fingers in my ass to check for ‘polyps?’ Yeah, that’s happening. What a bunch of horse malarky.”

The doctor let out an annoyed huff. “I see you didn’t read over the information forms. They never do,’ he mumbled. “Look, if you want me to wait here all day while you figure out what to do, I can’t -- I have a deadline to finish here. Now if you’ll move along, I have another patient waiting; you’re free to go.”

And Drake knew he was. But that expensive bottle of Glenfiddich was calling his name. He glanced over to that one last beautiful bottle sitting atop a desk on the far side of the room, calling his name. Selling it for even half of what it was worth would afford him enough to move the hell out of the palace and get the freedom from Nik he desired. Rubbing a hand over the scruff on his chin, Drake's timid gaze turned from the bottle to the doctor. He could handle a finger or two in ass for a few seconds if t made him $90,000 richer. 

“Okay. What do I need to do?”

Nikolas quietly typed on the keyboard of his laptop from the opposite side of the curtain. The images from the hidden cameras plastered on the wall where Drake was seated popped into view on his screen. Feeding a link to, and overriding the broadcast feed at the CBC, Nik crouched down low and waited with little beady eyes for the exam to begin. “Perfect ...Okay, Doc, let’s see if you can get a hole in one.”

----------

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[rex101111]

While Shu is less interesting than Wei, it's got it's perks for Baiken. Zhang Fei is fun to hang around with, and Yue Ying's unmatched cooking skills make being around Zhuge "Just As Planned" Liang worth it (even if he's more humble and loyal than Sima Yi)

But really, the three Oath brothers feel closer to each other than their ideals, which Baiken instantly figures out will spell trouble. The only reason Shu is still standing is because of Zhuge Liang's intelligence and the astonishing feats of Zhao Yun, who despite being the picture of loyalty, is also someone level-headed enough to see reality. His bonkers stunts never fail to entertain Baiken during duels, and despite being exhausted, he never hesitates to accept her challenging him. No wonder everyonecin the Three Kingdons speak highly of him (Even Lu Bu thinks he's a worthy foe!) For a goody-two-shoes, he's not bad. She can't help but compare him to Ky Siske.

* Shu and it's whole obsession with "benevolence" rubs Baiken the wrong way sometimes, but Liu Bei pays as well as she can ask for, and pound for pound Shu has more simply honest folk than the other factions. Top among them is Ying, who drags Baiken to her dinner table every chance she gets to feed the mercenary, who has a reputation of surviving off of mostly booze.

She all smiles, but with an iron edge underneath that keeps Baiken from arguing...and the cooking is good too, so that's a plus. It'd be perfect...if she didn't also have to share a table with Zhuge Liang, and his ever analytical gaze roaming her form.

"...Ying! Your shit-head husband is giving me that creepy look again!"

"Give it a rest dear!" Yue Ying calls over her shoulder from the kitchen, "you promised no strategizing at the table!"

"I'm not strategizing." Zhuge replies, taking another sip of his tea, "I am simply observing."

"Well quit observing." Baiken growls, swirling her own tea cup as she glares at him, "your spoiling my appetite."

Liang nods, taking his gaze off of her to stare deeply into his tea, "...a question." He says mildly, Baiken grumbling but otherwise not snapping at him, "if you were ordered to kill a hundred men by yourself, what would you do?"

"Charge extra for every head 50."

A sip, slow and controlled, "and if you were refused, and told to go anyway?"

"Tell the one who ordered me to shove it."

An eyebrow climbing half an inch, "...are you not under contract? Why would you think you had the right to refuse?"

"Because, Lord Liang." The honorific drips from her like venom, "my signing a contract had not deprived me of my brain, and there is a stark difference between a breach of said contract, and my employer being a fucking idiot."

A smile, subtle as morning due and yet sharp as a knife, "Indeed there is, excellent answer Lady Baiken."

Baiken groans at this, looking at Yue Ying as she comes to the table with a tray of food, "every talk with this guy gives me a fucking headache."

"Of course it does." Ying cheerfully says, "It's part of his charm."

Groaning again, admitting defeat, Baiken chooses to simply be quiet and eat her food. (Almost as good as Jam, almost.)

* She makes a habit of asking for a spar from Yun every day, at least once every few hours, so long as there isn't a battle coming up soon.

He hasn't managed to beat her, but he's getting closer. Every fighter he busts out something new that she has to react to, his youthful energy never once running out.

They're at the end of another spar, the last of the day as the sun is swallowed by the horizon. They're both on the grass, Baiken sitting while Zhao Yun lays on his back, looking straight up.

"Almost got me that time kid," she compliments with a puff of smoke, "that trick you pulled by kicking off the wall was a ballsy one, keep working on it."

"Thank you ma'am." Yun says from the ground, still catching his breath, one of his hands holding a bruise on the side of his chest. "I'll be sure to practice."

She laughs as she shakes her head, "you say that like you don't work your ass off already." She inhales a it more smoke, muttering, "dumb kid." under her breath.

A few quiet moments pass, before Yun sits up, puts his legs into a lotus position, and joins Baiken in looking at the sunset, "...Lady Baiken, would you be honest with me for a moment."

"I don't lie to people, kid," She answers with a casual breath of smoke, "waste of my time, so you can ask whatever," she turns her gaze to look at him from the corner of her eye, "no promises you'll like the answer though."

Nodding in assent, Yun turns to look at her fully, "in your words, what is the state of Shu, at the moment?"

"One corpse away from collapsing in on itself like a house made of straw." She takes another pull from her pipe to let her words sink in, "one stray arrow, one bad meal, one sickness, and it's all over."

Yun grips his knees, but does not say a word.

"It won't happen right away, it might take a few years, but if either you or Liang bite it, Shu's days are numbered."

Now he bolts to his feet, "Lord Liu Bei-"

"Is an idealist who doesn't know how deep in the shit he could be." She interject smoothly, still on the ground looking at the sunset, "he and his brothers care more for their oath than their duty, all of their soldiers are living off a dream doomed to fail, and as a result this whole business is resting on the shoulders of, at most, two people." She looks up at him, but he feels so incredibly small, "and you know it."

His face hardens, and for the first time today he looks every bit the warrior his enemies make him out to be, "I will never abandon my lord."

"Never said you would." She shakes her head at him again, finally getting to her feet, "I never questioned your loyalty, only how clear your vision is." She meets his gaze, and he holds his ground, "if you're going to keep walking this road, you better know exactly where it's going to lead you."

"I assure you, Lady Baiken." Zhao Yun straightens his back and brings his shoulders back, the very picture of the Hero of Shu, "I have never lost sight of my goal."

She locks gazes with him for a moment, and then claps his shoulder, "then I think that's enough for today." She turns on her heel and begins walking away, "see you tomorrow, Yun."

He stares at her back for second, before he bows, "Thank you for the training!"

She keeps walking, but barks out a laugh, waving with her back to him. Not as hardened as Ky, not yet, but he's got some spirit, at the very least.

[imagines-fr-days]

Abandoned (Obi-wan Kenobi x Sith!reader)

A/N!!!! I have no idea what the fuck happened but my original post deleted itself when I was making edits and honestly im peeved about it. luckily I had it saved to my phone. so I’m reposting this.

I’ve been on a Star Wars kick recently and I had to do something for the first love of my nerdy ass life, Obi-Wan Kenobi. something angsty because I love making people be sad and suffer before the redemption. 😈 I already started writing a Part 2 so lemme know if you guys want it cuz its a twisty doozy.

I don’t think there’s any warnings I should announce. just Angst because lets be real, if you aren’t angsty are you even a Sith?? Obi-wan being too good for this universe but also a badass.

“Darth Wraithous, I have a task for you. A true test of your abilities.”

   So that is what lead you here, leading a droid army, waiting for a Jedi. Sidious wanted to test your loyalty and you abilities. facing a Jedi. what was so different about this Jedi you didnt know. you’d killed one before and fought many others.

“Ma’am, we have republic tanks on our scanners coming in from the west.” The commander droid alerted you.

“Let them come. I have a score to settle with the Jedi.” You sighed. 

“Roger roger.” The droid left.

“First squadron, fan out to flank them, do not engage until given my order.” You could begin to see the tops of the tanks through the alien trees.

“We’re in position, Ma’am.” the droid came through the communicator, “should we open fire?”

“Wait.” You growled through the comms, “wait.”

You could see the first line of clones clearly, the Jedi not far behind for sure.

“Open fire.” You smirked, you jumped from the command ship, wielding your red saber as you ran towards the clones, deflecting each blaster shot fired towards you with ease. The feeling of severing limbs from bodies released a wave of pride over your nerves.

“General Kenobi! Sith!” A clone shouted. Kenobi? No. You thought as anger spread through your body. Sidious wanted you to kill Obi-wan. He knows, Panic set into your chest.

“Leave him to me, commander!” The voice that was over the recorder was so familiar but so different. The distant sounds of a saber drew closer, you swung towards more clones, jumping up onto a tank, the blade of your saber severing the canon.

You jumped from the tank and deflected shots from clones.The hum of a saber appeared behind you, “Hello there.” The voice caused chills to go up your spine. 

You deactivated your saber and force pushed back the clones, and the Jedi, around you, taking off into the wooded area across the path. Your ship not far away so you ran for it, jumping through the thick vines and trunks of trees. Sliding down slopes, Jumping over a ridge you spotted the black machine in the distant clearing. You took a deep breath and made the walk towards the ship.

You heard a thud behind you. You paused. 

“There is only one person I’ve ever seen move the way you just did….” The familiar warm voice echoed in your ears, “So the stories are true. You turned to the dark side…”

You stood with your back to the Jedi, unable to turn and look into his face for the first time in years.

“Please tell me it’s not true, (y/n).” 

The anger boiled within you instantly, “(Y/n) was weak. She’s dead.” You growled at the mention of your old name.

“And you killed her?” You felt his presence draw closer.

“I’m still killing her.” You snapped, finally turning face to face with the love of your life, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

A gasp escaped his lips at the sight of your once welcoming (e/c) irises replaced with a soul piercing red and gold. His eyes were sad but he’d aged wonderfully, looking more handsome than you remember, he’d grown a beard. Small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. the same beige tunic but incased in armor baring the symbol of the Jedi order, the same attitude-filled stance. The blueness of his eyes hadn’t changed in nearly 10 years. The sight of Master Kenobi finally in front of you did nothing to lessen the pain in your chest.

“This isn’t you.. we’ve known each other since we were younglings.” Obiwan frowned, shaking his head.

“You don’t know me anymore, Kenobi.” You could feel the tears brewing; after years of being held back, the appearance of the man who sent you down this dark path made them impossible to contain.

“You know that’s not true. I know you better than you know yourself. You don’t want this.” Obi-wan pressed, “Please.. Come back with me.” he reached his hand towards you. You’d never wanted to grasp something so badly in your whole life. but you couldn’t, not yet. you shook the thoughts from your head as quickly as they appeared, anger refilling the space.

“You don’t know what I want! Did you forget what happened when I left the order?” You growled, gripping your saber that was holstered at your side. Obi-wan quickly retrieved his own from his belt.

“Of course I haven’t! It was the worse day of my life.” Obi-wan winced.

——————————————————————————————-

“Leave the order with me, Obi.” You held your hand out. Deep down you wanted Obi-wan to take your hand and leave with you but you knew he wouldn’t.

Obi-wan looked down at your hand and back to meet your eyes, slowly shaking his head, “I can’t. We gave an oath to the Jedi!” 

“Can’t you see they’re tyrants! They’re forcing you to suppress your feelings for me. I feel them in you.” You could feel the sadness overwhelming Obi-wan, your hand grasping onto his only to have Obi-wan quickly pull back. Your heart shattering, “We could be together, Obi-wan. We wouldn’t have to hide. You loved me once…”

“We were young and foolish.” He frowned, turning away. The ache in your chest became overwhelming, with tears in your eyes and your lips trembling against each other, you drew your saber and ignited the green blade, “You give me no other choice…”

“Please don’t.” Obi-wan whimpered. 

You ignored his plea and pounced. After years of practicing with each other you knew every move of his, every secret. And he knew yours. With every attack and block of the sabers, every ear scratching screech of ever collision, your heart broke more. Tears cascading down your cheeks, Obi-wan’s face held no emotion other than his furrowed brows.

Obi-wan caught you by surprise when he noticed your attention falter from the duel, a burning sensation overtook your face. You gripped the left side of your cheek in pain, stumbling back… too far back. You felt a drop but something grabbed your arm. You looked up to see Obi-wan clenching to your wrist.

“Give me your other hand, (y/n)!” His voice cracked over the roar of speeders passing under you, “please!” He reached down. 

You simply shook your head, “let me go.”

“Please don’t. Don’t leave me!” A single tear cascaded down his cheek.

You looked at him, mesmerizing his features, you knew it would be a long time until you could see him again. The dimple in his chin, the crease between his eyebrows that appeared when he narrowed his brows, the curve of his jawline, his soft and welcoming eyes.

You pressed your foot against the wall of the temple, “I love you, Obi.” You forced a smile before pushing off the wall, your hand slipping through Obi-wan’s grasp.

The last thing you heard was Obi-wan’s scream as you fell.

——————————————————————————————-

You blinked away the memory, shaking your head. You looked back up to the Jedi, more angry now than ever.

“Please… don’t make me do this.” Obi-wan regretfully activated his saber.

“You won’t have the chance.” You force gripped Obi-wan by the neck, hoisting him into the air. He dropped his saber to claw at his empty neck. “I loved you, Obi-wan! I loved you more than anything! You were the love of my life and you abandoned me!” You squeezed as hard as you could. Obi-wan was gasping for breath. Terrified eyes met your own.

“Please, (y/n).” It was barely above a whisper but his words pierced into your chest and straight to your broken heart. 

You released a thunderous growl as you hurled Obi-wan backwards, releasing the hold on his throat. As he coughed you pulled his lightsaber towards you with the force, using your own saber to slice the hilt of Obiwan’s into pieces. 

The love you once felt for him replaced with hatred and anger. Obi-wan’s eyes, that you once loved more than any part of him, only fueled the hatred for him.

You took a deep breath and glared down at the Jedi, “I may have loved you, Obi-wan. But the next time I see you. I will kill you. Make no mistake of that.”

You turned your back to Obi-wan, the blue glow of his Kyber Crystal catching your attention. You bent down, pulling it from the burnt metal and clenched It in your palm. You other hand grazing the scar, staring from your forehead, just above the left eyebrow and drawing your finger down it’s path to your jaw. 

You stepped on your ship, turning back to see obi-wan standing as the door closed

[paragonshep]

Happy N7 Day, friends and ememies, and welcome to an unplanned stream-of-consciousness thought experiment I like to call

The Bare Fucking Minimum

What is this, you ask? Well I am, once again, thinking about Jacob Taylor. Specifically, I’m thinking about the complete shitshow that was Jacob’s story arc. What were the themes, the overarching concepts? And were they deliberately trying to piss off everyone who romanced him? 

In honor of the announcement of a remaster that will almost certainly do nothing for him, I’m here to ask: if we assume that all the major story elements must remain the same, what’s the minimum that could be changed to bring all of his everything from a major shitshow to a minor shitshow?

Let me preface this by saying that 1) I am not a writer, and 2) I am not black. The scope of this post is fairly limited, and mostly relates to tidying up the themes and emotional arc while keeping the actual events largely unchanged. I’m fully aware that Jacob’s loyalty mission, for example, is absolutely steeped in racist tropes, and that a lot of people out there would prefer to just throw the whole thing out and start over. I get that, but that’s not something I’m equipped to do, so if that’s what you were looking for, this post probably isn’t the one for you.

This is also pretty much spun right off the top of my head. I didn’t draft this, I’m not really digging too deep. I’m just collecting and laying out some thoughts I had floating around in my head, so this is gonna get pretty disjointed. Feel free to throw out your own thoughts in the notes. I may or may not dive in and chat with y’all, since this is mostly just to get these thoughts out of my head and on a page. We’ll see once things get going.

Anyway let’s start at the top.

1. What’s it all about, when you get right down to it?

So, Jacob’s whole arc is a complete fucking mess and feels like they just threw a bunch of random shit at it to see what would stick, but ultimately I think it’s about masculinity and Jacob’s conception of what makes a man. I think the key to Jacob as a character is understanding what traits embody masculinity, and which people he thinks have missed the mark. There’s clearly things like strength and integrity, but follow-through, duty, and keeping promises seem to be major elements in his definition of masculinity. Put a pin in that, we’ll come back to that later. Unfortunately, it’s time to talk about...

2. The Loyalty Mission

Oh boy. Welp. Let’s get this over with, I guess.

So obviously this is racist and really shit and really Bioware should just throw the whole thing out, but again, that's not what we're going here. This is the part I've given the least thought to, so it will probably be short and not come to many conclusions. anyway let's grit our teeth and look for the theme that ties in into Jacob's greater narrative arc. Specifically, if Jacob's whole thing is "what makes a man", then we need to look at how exactly his father missed the mark.

Spoiler alert: it's duty.

Ultimately, his father was captain and it was his obligation to get the crew home, even if it was personally inconvenient. It was his duty as a father to try to get home himself for the sake of his family. It was about obligation, oaths and promises he broke. Can I get some uhhhhhhhhhhhh fucking themes. Dive into that shit more.

I’m too tired to get more into it bc I’m actually writing this section last, but it’s interesting to note that even afterwards Jacob’s feelings about his father are complicated. Like, he hates the guy and thinks he’s despicable, but he still feels a need to try to find that things he got even half right. He can’t bring himself to write off everything the man ever was. That feels like a rich vein they could have done something with, but they didn’t.

3. The Romance, ME2

This one is an absolute fucking mess.

So there are two threads running through the core of this romance arc: the kink/powerplay element and the time element, and a major problem of the romance is that it doesn’t really know which one it is.

So, I know a lot of people dislike the whole kink element just on principle, but I’m not here to do that. Not everyone is into soft vanilla stuff, and it’s a little irritating how much of the fandom (and the world) tries to paint kink as inherently evil or unhealthy. THAT SAID, the kink here is inefficient in terms of storytelling, it’s sloppy writing, and the whole time I played the romance I was thinking “What’s the point of this?”. The problem with that element, and the fact that the ME2 love scene focuses on it, is that it does not serve any overarching narrative, either in terms of romance progression or Jacob’s whole character. It feels slapped on. It’s just not good storytelling. (and while i’m generally for kink, I am also side eyeing Bioware for slapping this on ME’s first black character and only him. not offensive in and of itself, but feels like part of a greater racist picture)

I’m honestly shocked they didn’t lean harder into the whole theme of time, and specifically time running out, because it seems like the obvious choice. It’s built into the whole main plot of ME2, and it’s an element of multiple other romances. You’re all heading into a suicide mission, there’s a serious chance you’re all going to die, and you don’t have enough time. Like what the fuck! That would have been emotionally satisfying! 

Imagine if the final romance scene had featured Jacob coming to see Shepard and having this whole speech/rant about how he doesn’t like to rush into things, how he likes to take it slow and really get to know each other, but now there’s no more time and you both might die tomorrow, and he might regret this choice if you live but he knows he’ll regret not making it if you die!!!!!! That’s some real shit! it completes a narrative arc! It ties into shit we know about Jacob outside his romance!!! Why the fuck didn’t they go that route!!!!!!! Can you tell I’m still angry!!!!!

4. ME3

So Jacob’s role in this game is pretty minimal, so there’s not a lot to work with and not a lot to change. Good thing I can fix like 90% of its issues with one change:

It’s not his child Dr. Cole is carrying.

Like that alone you can use to fix a bunch of issues without changing the core themes of his character arc! It works in a romance and non romance playthrough! You can still do a fatherhood “doing better than my own father did” arc even if Jacob didn’t contribute the sperm, Bioware!!!!!

So here’s how I picture it: The stuff about meeting and getting to know Jacob can stay the same. The father of Dr. Cole’s child is someone we never meet who is generally out of the picture. Possibly one of the other scientists she was working with who were killed when their part of the project was complete. Her partner disappears, she goes to Jacob for help, and Jacob promises to help her and her coworkers get out and keep them safe. Remember that shit I said back under point one about keeping promises? Boom! Narrative arc complete. This would also serve as an excuse to keep Jacob from coming back the the Normandy, since he made a promise to Brynn and he’s going to see it through. This works even with a romanced Jacob, because he can love Shepard and also note that she’s not the person who needs him most right now! Is this a perfect solution that would please every player? By no means! But I bet a lot of us would be less absolutely livid about it!

In conclusion,

I realize actually implementing these changes would actually be a whole lot of work, and this is not, in fact, a simple quick fix. My point is mostly that this did not require changing any actual plot beats, just recontextualizing them, and that Bioware and the writer(s) responsible could have saved themselves a lot of angry players if they’d just picked a coherent theme for this character and stuck to it. There’s no excuse for Jacob’s writing being as incoherent and terrible as it is.

I could probably write a lot more about this, but since I’m basically illiterate this took me pretty much all day to write and I’m tired. Bioware Stop Being So Racist Challenge, and Happy N7 Day.

[allmight-amiright]

Angst That Has Nothing To Do With MHA But I Have To Share It With Someone

I’m Sorry. Draco Malfoy

Request: No. Just me missing Harry Potter and missing Harry Potter means missing my sweet baby Draco and Draco makes me angsty. 

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: The Bad Words

Notes:  I know the title says I’m sorry but I’m really not.  I just really love Draco Malfoy and he gives me the angsty feelings (wow have I written an obsessive number of angsty Draco fics over the years) and I have successfully annoyed my friend with my memes and angsty feelings, so she 10/10 would not read it, but like I simply gotta share this with SOMEONE.  So, maybe one of you out there also really loves Draco Malfoy (message me so we can send pictures of Tom Felton back and forth and obsess thanks) and loves angsty angst and can support me in my returning mood of sorrow-filled nostalgia because DRACO MALFOY DESERVED BETTER. Thank you for coming to my TED talk. 

Everyone heard the train before they ever saw it.  You and a few other students mingled on the platform, waiting for the train to arrive back to Hogwarts after the holidays, waiting for friends to unload off the cars.  The snow flitted around, dusting every exposed surface in a white blanket.  The train rounded the final bend before pulling into the station.  Students of every age bounded out of the cars, bearing gifts and stories for the friends they left behind at the castle.  He was always one of the last ones off, so you weren’t expecting anything different this time around.  As the stream of students started to slow down to a trickle, Draco Malfoy stepped down from the train car.  A black coat bundled tightly around that familiar frame, a black hat covering icy blonde hair, a whole wardrobe matching that saddened composure that had become so customary.  

You were quick to be by his side.  No words spoken, there never were.  Simply arms wrapped around each other’s waists as you followed the masses to the castle.  His gloved fingers were fixed tightly on your side, making you squirm slightly in discomfort, but he failed to notice.  His grey eyes were trained blankly ahead, just as they always were when he returned from home. It’s not my home.  Don’t call it that. His rigid voice chided through your head even at the thought of calling Malfoy Manor his home anymore.  Hogwarts was him home now.  It was his one safe place.  He could be away from everything: the pressure, the ridicule, his father.  

The castle gates closed securely behind everyone and the two of you broke away from the groups as they dispersed to their respective common rooms.  Fingers leaving waists to find their perfect fit as footsteps connect with marble stairs down, down, down.  The steady sound of shoes hitting the floor started to slow as the pair came to a halt. It didn’t take long, but once he was away from everyone else, it never did.  The sheen in his eyes had been there since you found him and the fact that it had stayed so securely there until now was something of a special talent of his.  

You felt the warm tears against your skin before you heard that stifled sob.  His hat now dropped to the floor, you let yourself run your fingers through his thick hair in an attempt to put him at ease.  His arms wrapped around your waist, holding so desperately onto his last bit of comfort, his last bit of happiness. 

It was never meant to be like this.  He never meant to make it a tradition for the two of you to duck into the same nook after every visit he was forced to make home for him to do nothing but sob into your shoulder.  He never meant to let you into his world and see him so hurt, so broken.  But he never thought you would have been there to greet him after the holidays all those years back.  He never thought that your smile would have been enough to break him right there on the empty platform.  He never thought he would be soaking your robes with tears year after year.

You sat him down on the window sill, taking his face between your hands, moving it gently to see the purple bruises that so elegantly decorated his face.  Everyone knew.  Everyone had always known.  Draco liked to pretend that no one had any inkling of an idea apart from you,  but even he wasn’t that naive.  He heard the whispers.  He saw the sad looks from his professors.  Madame Pomfrey always seemed to be the first one to ask how his holiday had been, trying to refrain from touching the bruises or the cuts that he always brought back.  Draco Malfoy had too much pride to admit that his father beat him.  Even to you, he never said it outright.  It was always “Father and I got in an argument.” An argument that never failed to send Draco slinking away with a black eye or a busted lip or a broken nose.  

He refused to look at you.  Embarrassment always his top emotion when the feeling of your skin inevitably calmed him down enough to turn his sobs into small hiccups.  He combatted your hand on his chin by tugging you closer to him, hiding his face in your stomach, forcing you to release a sad sigh and return to pushing your fingers through his hair as what remaining tears soaked through your shirt.  

“Draco,” you whisper.  You gently push him back so you can sit down next to him.

He finally meets your eyes.  The fondness that he had grown so accustomed to finding was staring right back at him. Your beautiful naivety of everything happening in his life these past months, your unwavering loyalty to him. Another choked sob escaped his throat as he turned away from you.  

“Draco,” you whispered again, scooting closer to him.  A soothing hand on his forearm was all it took for him to come reeling at you.  A swift back hand to your cheek.  Shock.  Silence.  Regret.  

Draco Malfoy staggered away from you, not wanting to be next to you as the shame washed over him.  He just stared at you, mouth agape as your fingers moved along the red mark on your face.  Even from the new distance, you could see him shaking.  His hand moved to him forearm, almost like he was protecting it from you.  He was fully expecting you to walk away from him, to leave him alone in this nook to cry and feel sorry for himself.  He was not expecting you to walk over to him and take his coat off. He was not expecting you to slap his hand away when he tried to stop you from pushing the sleeve of his suit jacket up.  He sure as hell wasn’t expecting the deafening silence that surrounded the two of you as you stared down at it.  He was prepared for you to shout, to scream, to run immediately to Dumbledore to turn him in.  He had braced himself months ago for the “We’re done.” He was prepared for every possible outcome.  Except this one.  He hadn’t braced himself for this silence.  For your shaky breath.  For the sight of your hands trembling as you pulled his sleeve back down.

“I’m so-”

“I really fucking hate your dad,” you whispered.

“What?”

“This- This isn’t you.  You wouldn’t have done this.  You never would have done something like this, right?  You- You’re a good person, Draco.  You wouldn’t have gone to his side on your own. So, it had to have been him, right? You wouldn’t have done this.  This isn’t you,”  You kept repeating yourself over and over again, trying to convince yourself more so than trying to get a straight answer from him.  The small shake in your voice, it made Draco’s whole demeanor shift.  

He pulled you into him.  No words.  He was going to let you believe what you wanted.  He was going to let you believe that his father had threatened him into taking the oath, into becoming a Death Eater.  He wasn’t going to tell you that he had promised to kill the Headmaster.  He wasn’t going to tell you that it was Voldemort who held the threat, his one weakness, over his head to get the small “Yes” from his lips. 

“This is my mess.  Not yours.  But, I swear on my life that I will never let him get to you, understand?  You have nothing to worry about.  I’m still the same man I’ve always been, okay?” He felt you nod against his chest.  He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, still holding you firm against him in order to prevent you from seeing the steady stream of hot tears flowing down his face once again. 

[elliepassmore]

Empire of Storms Review

5/5 stars Recommended for people who like: series, ToG, fantasy, magic, high stakes, battles, multiple POVs, strong female leads, scheming Oh wow, I have such a love-hate relationship with this book. On one hand, I love how it’s written, how the characters and overall situation evolves, and, for most of the book, what happens. But on the other hand, I hate what happens. If we can read this and pretend it ends 30 pages before it does, that’d be fantastic, thank you very much. For those that have not read this far in the series, Chaol isn’t in this one; ToD tells what’s happening with him while this book is going on. Also, I realized as I was writing the review that I talk a lotmore about Manon and Elide than any of the other characters, so be prepared. Aelin has a lot of character development in this one, growing from someone who is a queen to someone who is queenly. In QoS, it was obvious she cared about Terrasen and her Court, that she was a queen and had accepted it, but within the first couple of chapters with her in this one, there’s a slow change. She begins acting with more calculation, more cunning, and more of a willingness to sacrifice—both herself and others—to get done what needs to be done. She felt like a queen in this one. But more than that, I felt she became a more mature character in this one. As much as I love HoF and QoS!Aelin, she was still acting like that young, wicked 19-year-old assassin. Throughout this book, she slowly develops a sense of stillness and a greater understanding of how the world, and people as a whole, tend to work. I really, really like her character progression and magical rise throughout EoS. There were definitely some sketchy parts—like when she was willing to bring the Valg into a city and leave its occupants to their doom, or when she and Rowan were talking about potentially conquering more countries in the future—but as a whole, I felt Maas did a really good job of showing how the Crown, Terrasen, and Terrasen’s people impacted Aelin and her decisions. Not to mention, Aelin became a fiery powerhouse in this one, and that’s always a fun journey to see, regardless of who’s undergoing it. And, I know some people have complaints about this next bit but, I love love love all of Aelin’s scheming and secrecy. It’s cunning, it’s wicked, it’s a Power Move, and it’s one of my favorite things throughout this book, even if it does get her into trouble and isn’t always the best move on her part. Dorian…poor Dorian. He really can’t get a break right now, can he? First there’s a Valg prince in him, then he kills his dad and shatters half his castle, then all his friends leave to go do Very Official Things, and then his city is sacked and burned. What a great summer. Dorian’s definitely close to some of that darkness we saw in Aelin/Celaena in HoF, but he’s already got a country to run and can’t afford to delve into the depths of his despair the way Aelin/Celaena was allowed to. It creates this interesting combination of a king who almost resents being king, but also recognizes there are no other good options at the moment and someone’s got to do it. The plus side of this is that we get to see a darker, more devil-may-care version of Dorian…ya know, the one who flirts with a witch. On top of dealing with all of this, Dorian also has his own magical journey and we get to see him gain more control over his powers and use them to his advantage in dangerous situations instead of having them adding to the dangerous situation. Despite these things, Dorian definitely feels like a side character in this one instead of a main character, and I think even Dorian points out something to this effect during one of his narrations:“For a heartbeat, Dorian felt like a useless fool as they all, including him, looked to Aelin.” (367). I suppose it’s not exactlyan admission of side-characterness, but it’s pretty damn close…and accurate. With all the growing and changing Dorian experiences in this book, I really wish we 1) got to see more of it from his POV, and 2) had more attention on him in general, he is, after all, one of the Original 3 (Dorian, Chaol, Celaena/Aelin). Manon continued her developmental arc from the last two books into this one, which was nice to see. With everything she’s learned and seen, especially during the course of QoS, she’s wary of what’s going on in Morath, and she’s wary of her grandmother. Manon has some interesting decisions to make regarding who—and I suppose what if you want to get into what she believes—she’s loyal to. We’ve seen inklings of her budding rebelliousness in previous books, but it really comes out in this one, and she draws a stark line in the sand, a huge development for the witch who once valued “obedience, discipline, brutality” above all else…though, I suppose rebellions can be disciplined and brutal, just not obedient ;P Of course, Manon also shows more of her caring nature in this book. In HoF, we saw her risk her position to have Abraxos and to keep him safe. In QoS, we saw her take Elide under her wing to the point of breaching Morath’s dungeons. Now, we see all that come to a head, with her releasing Elide into Oakwald and telling her to find Aelin, and then later being extremely protective over Abraxos, and, of course, that dawn when Asterin—and by extension, the rest of the Thirteen’s—life is on the line and Manon decides to draw an even bigger line in the sand. Manon has always cared, but I wonder if she always would have acted upon it like she does in this book. Or to the extent she does in this book. One of my complaints with how Manon is handled in this story are that she goes with the flow more than I feel she normally would, and I don’t know if it’s because she’s outnumbered or injured or what, but I felt she should’ve fought back a little more before relaxing her stance. And then the other one, which I know not everyone will agree with, is that she and Elide have more chemistry than she and Dorian. From the way I’ve read the story, it makes more sense for her and Elide to enter into something romantic than for her and Dorian to. I’m pretty happy with how Elide’s path goes in this story. From QoS, we know she’s cunning, clever, and observant, but with her having a larger narrative role, we get to see just how much she is those things. I mean, if you want a measurement for it, she lies to Lorcan, one of Maeve’s famous Fae warriors, and does it so well he doesn’t sense it. More than that, she also manages to buff her way past some of Morath’s worst creatures, which she does by delving into her memory and mimicking the behavior and attitudes she’s seen from the Thirteen in order to fool the creature. There are other instances too, when she changes herself and lies to get stuff done, and she does it with such ease, it’s impressive. Her observation skills continue peaking as well, with her sensing danger before it’s upon her multiple times. Perhaps part of the reason I love Elide so much in this one is that we really get to see the extent of her mental abilities, and that so often, especially in fantasy, when girls and women are badass and strong characters and beat the bad guys, they do it physically, we so rarely get to see them do it mentally like Elide does. Not to say, of course, that Elide doesn’t also get into scuffles, because she does, and she’s pretty good at those too. She kills some of Morath’s creatures with a broken nose while on her period, and that’s a bit of violent fantasy I can get behind. But most of the time, Elide uses her head to get herself in and out of situations. Perhaps not unexpected, but loyalty stays a huge part of her character as well. She’s loyal to Aelin, loyal to the promise she made to Kaltain, loyal to Manon and the Thirteen, and, when it comes down to it, she’s even loyal to Lorcan, which brings me to my next point. I like Manon and Elide as a romantic pairing, but I can also see where people are coming from with Lorcan and Elide, however, the latter pairing is not nearly developed enough in this book to warrant their kissing. Elide was furious with him like, two chapters before they kiss *with passion* and it feels rushed. If Maas was planning on having Eide and Lorcan be together (well…they are, but whatever), I think there should’ve been more of a buildup. They have mutual respect, they have aesthetic attraction, but they still need that deeper connection. Rowan feels younger in this one, though I thought he felt younger in QoS too. He’s freer and more playful in this one than he has been in the other ones, and I felt he was more tied to Aelin in this one too. That doesn’t stop him from getting shit done, though, even if it takes him, say, back to Adarlan for a spell. He’s definitely fiercely protective over Aelin, willing to throw down anyone who insults her past with Nehemia or Sam, or just letting her fight her own battles and scheme her own schemes. In terms of scheming, Rowan and Aelin definitely rub off on each other. For all the credit given to Aelin for her brilliant, complex schemes, Rowan does his fair share of scheming in this book too. He tricks their alliance target into meeting with them when he doesn’t want to, tricks Gavriel and Fenrys’ blood oaths to not attack Lorcan on sight, and schemes a way to get more allies for them. Despite this, despite how old and powerful he is, he definitely has some...self-esteem issues in this one, believing he has nothing to offer Aelin once she takes the throne, as if being one of the most powerful Fae males in the world is nothing. He brought it up every couple of chapters, mentioning he only had his heart to give…and then ignoring when it was exactly that that got the tide of a battle to turn (I love his cousins, by the way, very dramatic). Lorcan got narration in this one, which was interesting. He is not as much of a dick as he’s been made out to be, I’ll tell you that right now. Yes, he’s vicious and cunning, but he’s not horrible. He undergoes a lot of character development in this book, and I wonder if that contributed to it. I thought it was really funny how he went from “I’m going to torture and kill this girl (Elide)” to “well maybe I’ll just get her to tell me the information by tricking her” to “she is now mine to protect.” I suppose, though, that Elide has that affect on people. But even without that transition, Lorcan gets to see Aelin and her Court in action in this book, and he begins to realize that things with Maeve are…not the way they should be. Unfortunately, small realizations and a couple weeks (months?) worth of traveling with someone and being away from the blood oath are not enough to stop hundreds of years’ worth of training and instinct. Not entirely, at least. I feel like Aedion is in this one less than he’s been in the others, I’m not quite sure why, since he’s with Aelin and Lysandra for the entire book, and with Rowan and Dorian for most of it. He is a bit of a dick in this one, for reasons I can understand. For one, he lost his cousin once and all of her scheming just about stops his heart in his chest, not to mention the fact he’s literally fought battles and knows more about them in theory and in practice than Aelin does, despite her intelligence. While I love Aelin and her schemes in this one, I agree with Aedion that she should maybemaybe consult with the people around her before and while she’s making decisions. Him snapping at her about their lack of allies was a dick move, though. So Aelin hadn’t had time to get allies…I didn’t really see Aedion getting them either. Despite any disagreements he has with people, when it comes down to it, he’s still willing to fight beside them and protect them. Poor Lysandra, she has such a shitty situation. She’s mastered her shifting more, and everyone’s been giving her lessons in different things necessary for survival and fighting, but she still gets the short end of the stick. For starters, she has to leave Evangeline in Terrasen while they go traipsing around for allies and Wyrdkeys. It makes sense to leave her where she’s safe, but Lysandra has been the one protecting her for the past couple of years, and the two have grown close, so it’s definitely a hard decision that Lysandra makes. Later, she gets to battle five water-wyverns as a sea dragon, which nearly kills her and nearly gets her stuck in sea dragon form. (view spoiler). I think the situation is especially interesting because Lysandra is not fighting for her own country. She is not a King, Queen, or prince fighting for Adarlan or Terrasen. She is not a Witch fighting for the Wastes. Lysandra is fighting because she believes in Aelin and Dorian, and because she knows that if Erawen wins, things will get a lot worse for a lot of people. It’s the ‘right thing to do’ to fight in this war, but the right thing isn’t always the thing that keeps you and your loved ones alive, as everyone in this book knows, and it’s often easier said than done to go “I’d do the right thing,” yet Lysandra still chose to stay and fight for her friends, for the world, even if it means wearing a different face for the rest of her life, or dying, or never seeing Evangeline again. This book was side-character salad. Remember Assassin’s Blade? A lot of those characters make a comeback. We get to see Rolfe, Ansel, and the Silent Assassin’s back at it again, to varying degrees of willingness. Ansel coming back was, I feel, heavily and obviously foreshadowed in QoS, I definitely called it before I read the book the first time. Despite what she’d done, I really like her character in this one and was…not touched, exactly, but felt something like that when Ansel revealed she’d tried to go to Endovier to get Aelin/Celaena out. Rolfe was just as colorful and fun as in Blade, but less of an asshole, potentially because he wasn��t trading in slaves anymore. Maas included a plot twist with him that was entertaining, and I wish had more attention brought to it in KoA. The Silent Assassins come back toward the very end of the book, so we don’t get to see a lot of their interactions with everyone, but it was a pleasant surprise to see that virtually all of them turned up to aid Aelin and co. in defeating Erawen and winning their countries back. We also get to see more of the cadre, with Gavriel and Fenrys chilling with our heroes for a bit. Gavriel, perhaps unsurprisingly, causes some tension with everyone, most notably Aedion, who is more than a little rough on him. I get the instinct, and with Gavriel still being blood sworn to Maeve, I probably wouldn’t’ve let Gavriel anywhere near me, but I also don’t know if anyone had much of a choice. Fenrys was the wild card one of the two, and definitely managed to piss people off more than Gavriel did, but he was funnier, so that’s a plus. I felt…odd about Fenrys. It’s obvious he’s only sworn to Maeve for his twin and would rather be free or with Aelin and co, but he ogles Aelin, which feels slimy to me and I’m not a huge fan of, no matter how funny he is. Galan Ashryver also shows up toward the end of the book to aid the group in their journey, but like the Silent Assassins, since he showed up at the end, we don’t get a lot from him. Unfortunately, with that mix of awesome, we also have to suffer Maeve and Erawen turning up in this book too. I can’t really say a lot about Maeve without giving a bunch of stuff away, but Maeve is a bitch and I hate her more than Erawen, who briefly shows up to wreak havoc and spy. We don’t see a lot of the Thirteen, but they play such a big role in Manon’s decisions and arc, that I thought they should be included here as well. They’re so loyal to Manon, despite the threat of it, but they’re also not blinded by loyalty. Asterin, especially, is one of my favorite characters. She’s wild and free and fierce, and she isn’t afraid to get in Manon’s face and tell her like it is, but she’s also not afraid to die in Manon’s place. Sorrel is calmer about her anger, falling true to Manon’s idea that Manon is ice, Asterin is fire, and Sorrel is stone. Sorrel’s anger and questioning falls more into the line of “I’m not mad, just disappointed,” which anyone with a parent knows is so much worse. Abraxos is worth mentioning as a member of the Thirteen as well, since he also plays such a vital role in Manon’s development. He was the one to first break that icy exterior around her, and he’s the one she’s with for a majority of the book. Abraxos takes care of Manon and makes sure she’s safe, and when he can’t, for a couple reasons, he does the next best thing and finds someone who can do those things. Ah, the plot. The plot foreshadows aspects of itself, I’ll say that right now, but outside of that, there’s a shit ton of foreshadowing in this book, and this book also answers a lot of previous books’ foreshadowing. Erawen’s on the rise, creatures are coming out of Morath, and now nobody’s on the throne. The group is running out of time to get everything they need, and there’s so many twists and turns and foreshadowing going on that just about everyone ends up relying on one another at some point. Stuff from previous books connect into this one with more than just characters, and um, it’s a little fucking devastating. I love it and all the threads it connects, though, bringing everything around again and relating the history of Erilea to it, literally explaining why things are happening now, and sort of why they’re happening the way they’re happening. Some of the characters start to pick up on it, to realize that things bigger than coincidence and ghosts are guiding them down this path. Of course, there’s the issue with representation in this series. The characters, except for some of the Thirteen and Ilias, are all white. They are pretty much also all straight. Aedion is hinted at being bisexual, one of Rowan’s cousins is gay, and two members of the Thirteen are lovers. That’s four people, three of whom we barely/don’t see, and the fourth whose sexuality is only really hinted at. I love these books (and ACoTaR), but they are seriously lacking in diversity.

BONUS

The Visit

4.5/5 stars

One of the copies of EoS I have has a short scene at the back detailing a visit to Mistward while Rowan and Aelin were training there.

 I’m going to say from the start that I think Rowan and Aelin are shown being closer in this scene than we see for the entirety of HoF. They’re friends, we know they care about each other, they’re carranam (though they haven’t realized it at this point yet), but in HoF they didn’t act in the light, playful way they do now, and this scene feels more like QoS/EoS!Rowaelin than HoF!Rowaelin, hence the dropped half star.

I liked what happened in the story, though. Aelin’s temper is, naturally, on a short leash and it erupts toward Lady Remelle from Doranelle who acts a little too territorial over Rowan. Maas does a good job making sure we don’t like the Lady, so it was just desserts to see Aelin snap fire at her and earn her nickname ‘fire breathing bitch queen.’ Benson was just creepy and rapey feeling, and barely had any lines of dialogue. Essar was the only Fae from Doranelle I liked, again by design, and she was also the only one to realize who Elentyia/Celaena/Aelin really was.

 So, cute little short that gave us the background behind Aelin’s bitch-queen nickname, but also a short that’s a little OOC for the book it’s supposed to be set in.

Entering Terrasen

5/5 stars

The other copy of EoS I have has a scene at the back where Aelin, Rowan, Lysandra, Evangeline, and Aedion have just entered Terrasen and are in a small village where they meet a water user.

 I’m not really sure why this scene wasn’t just in the book, since it takes place during the timeline of the book and it would’ve only added a couple pages (which it did anyway, just at the end). I think it would’ve been nice to have it included because it shows the rebuilding of Terrasen, not just physically, but also mentally. It involves magic and laughing kids, that’s something that should be addressed within the book because of what it represents against the backdrop of a land recovering from being conquered.

 The scene was super cute, with the magic user being a little 9-year-old. She has, for the first time, access to her magic and is using it to play with the other kids to no one’s objection, showing that despite Adarlan’s tight-fisted stance on magic and magic users, the people of Terrasen are not about to throw stones at those gifted with it. It also shows that, despite the wariness the girl has for the Adarlanian accent, she’s still willing to talk with Aelin and have their magics play together.

 Overall, cute scene, should’ve just been in the book instead of a bit of extra content.

[hellospunkiebrewster]

Fathers - A Duty Sideshot

Author’s note: I’m so incredibly sorry that there is no new Flight Risk today. This sidetracked the hell out of me as I started to put my final touches on the chapter. All the baby fever fics for Father’s Day got to me and in my natural fashion I couldn’t be too happy about them. This is a tribute to all the different kinds of fathers in someone’s life. Real, biological, adoptive, foster, step, overprotective, intimidating, goofy, serious, or fun. I cried so much writing this and I thought I put Duty behind me, but it’s so obvious I haven’t. If you haven’t ready my series Duty, it’s here:

Part I: Déjà Vu - Part II: Hopelessly Cold - Part III: Bitterness - Part IV: Rage - Part V: Promises - Part VI: Oath - Part VII: Dysphoria - Part VIII: Toska - Part IX: Credence - Part X: Unconditional

Summary: Eleanor reflects on the fathers she’s had over the years and what each of them has taught her.

Perma-tags: @madaraism, @mfackenthal, @blackcatkita, @never-ending-choices, @darley1101, @pbchoicesobsessed, @flyawayblue56

Tags (I tagged those of you who were tagged throughout Duty): @queencatherynerhys, @theroyalweisme, @crayziimaginations, @boneandfur, @lizeboredom, @gardeningourmet, @hopefulmoonobject, @hamulau

Eleanor Charlotte Rhys adored each one of the men she considered a father to her; she loved each one differently and no one more than another. It was fun, having so many fathers to call hers even if her past was marked with sadness and loss. They managed to pull her from it but still maintain an acknowledgement that it existed and deserved to never be forgotten. She was thankful for that because to do so would be a disservice to one of the greatest men to ever walk the earth. But still, each of them had something unique to offer and a valuable lesson to teach her, and for that she was grateful.

Uncle Leo. A man tossed from his country because of his heart. Even her own mother had a difficult time looking him in the eye. But Ellie saw something more, something special in the way he looked at the world around him. It was her Uncle Leo who taught her to follow her dreams and that they were limitless even when she felt so weighed down by the crown. Being sworn to the throne at not even the age of five was terrifying and rarely afforded Ellie the time to breathe and so it was one summer in her early teens that Ellie persuaded her mother to allow her to spend a month in the states with her Uncle Leo.

Even though her royal guard surrounded her every moment of the trip, from the time she stepped out of the limo onto the tarmac of the Cordonian airport, to the moment she returned to the palace, Eleanor had never felt so free, so normal. The sand of the beautiful beach her uncle’s house shared squished between her toes in a way she had never felt before. They’d sneak out and skirt her guard to see a show in New York City or paddle a boat to a nearby cove to watch the sunset through the trees just so. She cherished that summer as her uncle recalled stories of his youth, a carefree but sheltered time with his brother. The minutes spent without her guard liberating and exhilarating, but always short. Once the cloak of surveillance enveloped her she felt relieved.

As the month rolled on, Eleanor found herself counting the days to her return to Cordonia even as she continued to adore every moment. The solitary life of a fox was not for her, flitting from place to place not calling anywhere or anyone home. She was born for the throne and no taste of freedom would pull her from her responsibility to her country and her people.

Uncle Bertrand. Ever a stick in her side. He always meant well. Bertrand was a stickler for rules and tradition. He reminded her why things were done a certain way, why titles were important, and why the dessert fork was located at the top of her place setting. Eleanor never retained all of it, but his lessons instilled a sense of pride behind how she pinned her medals just so and solidified the depth at which she bowed her head when greeting a guest. Never too far, you are queen after all. Being the expert of courtly traditions, Bertrand was tasked with ensuring she understood the meaning and origins of all of them.

She recalls being in full regalia late in her teens, wobbling on her high heels as Bertrand places a book on her head. A queen must walk with poise and never stumble, lest she give others something to talk about. Attention spans of people at court were short and if their queen tripped at an event the day after cementing the largest trade deal in the country’s history, only one moment would be talked about over dinner and it wasn’t the important one. Things were done a certain way out of respect and tradition. While it may seem outdated, sticking to it in many cases did little harm to others. It was in the grey areas however, Bertrand told her, that she would be asked to help the country forge a new path and develop new traditions to keep them ahead of an ever changing world.

As the book slipped from her head for the umpteenth time, Eleanor wondered what sort of lesson this was supposed to teach her. She watched Bertrand’s face as he sighed once again and scurried over to gather up the book. He smiled a rare smile and nodded at her. When she looked at him, confused, he merely shelved the book and complimented her inability to become frazzled by his ridiculous request. An important quality when one must speak with vapid and self-centered nobles.

Uncle Max. The brightest spot in her childhood. Maxwell never ceases to make her laugh and forget whatever issue had her down at the moment. He could never erase the largest pain of her life but he worked hard to help her deal with it in constructive and healing ways. He was more than the resident goofball; he was perceptive and loyal. Her most vivid memory of him was one afternoon as the sixth anniversary of her father’s passing. The age of ten can be a difficult time for a young girl and she envied more than anything her friends’ families, so whole and perfect. Not this broken amalgamation of people who never perfectly fit together. She couldn’t very well invite them all to parent’s night.

Her Uncle Maxwell senses something wrong and offers to help her pay tribute to her father, spending the better part of the day wandering the maze, standing at the well with her, in search of the perfect flower. Each time they think they’ve located it, another appears just around a bend or a few steps ahead. By the time they’d scoured the gardens they had well over a hundred. Her Uncle Max helped weave them into a gorgeous wreath and took her to hang in at the Royal Tomb. Never once did he make her feel like her feelings were silly or small.

As she hung the wreath at the placard indicating her father’s grave, Ellie noted just how valid her Uncle Maxwell made her feel that day. He took her broken heart and mended it with smiles and laughter, weaving it all together with the beautiful love he had for her. That they all did. It didn’t matter that they weren’t the same as the families of her schoolmates, they were something more. It didn’t matter that they were different.

Uncle Drake. The rock. Ever present and always reassuring. He’d taken it upon himself after her father’s death to give her some semblance of a childhood because it was what she deserved. She also realized at some point it was what probably held him together as well. He clung to her and kept her as safe as he possibly could. He played incessant princess games with her, fueled merely by her shrieks and laugh. She put him through a ringer, from the moment she got her first period when her mother was out of town to the time he caught her in the gardens during her first kiss, at her fourteenth birthday celebration. He was never angry or upset with her; he could never be. She was mortified when he chased the noble boy off, even if she laughed at the memory later that same night.

She never quite understood her mother’s and Drake’s relationship as she grew up. Somewhere in-between being friends and something more. She’d asked both of them on numerous occasions if Drake was going to be her new father. It was something neither of them ever needed from the other, a deep understanding that their relationship was never meant to be. Had her father still been alive, neither of them would’ve needed it. So it was that Drake took up residence eventually in an extra bedroom of the royal suite. Always nearby when needed, never too close for comfort when they both required space if the memory of her father became too real for them. She never understood it until much later, the need to just feel someone’s lips against your own, their skin under your fingertips, so you could feel like yourself, like you were alive.

As she watched Drake chase a fourteen year old boy through the hedge maze and away from her, Ellie noticed how Drake’s loyalty to her and her mother outshined all else in his life. Underneath the deep crimson of her cheeks, it was a quality she hoped she herself had.

Her own father. Whom she could scarcely remember. The fiercest love she would never know. What she does know of him are fleeting snips of moments. She can sometimes recall them with no issue and on other days she can scarcely remember what his face looked like. She knew he was a man to be reckoned with, proud, honest, kind, and humble. He was a king in every possible sense. His duty to his country and people was unrivaled. His love for his family was unmatched. He treated each of these two halves of his life as if they were his whole self.

She remembers how he would peek over his glasses at her, when he worked late at night in their living room. Instead of scolding her and sending her back to bed, he would offer her a seat next to him. Her tiny hand would bunch into his shirt as she leaned sleepily into him. The morning would break and the two of them would be found on the same spot. Her father dare not move lest he wake her and pull her from sleep. She remembers how his eyes shined when he laughed at her silly stories from the day. He was a king, but he was never too busy to lend an ear. She remembers his arms, strong and comforting around her, as he holds her close during a particularly scary storm one summer. She remembers resting her head against his upper arm in the limo on the way to some sort of boring public appearance. She never was sure if these were her own memories or those she created from the memories of others.

As she is lifted and spun around one day after her father returned home from yet another long trip abroad, she wondered if all the other children she knew had fathers who were superheroes like him. She supposed that her dad was special and more important than the rest. When she looked back on her memories of him, she realized he taught her the most important lesson of all: how to balance the crown and the self.

It is because of these five men that Ellie cannot choose who should walk her down the aisle on her wedding day. Tradition dictates that a member of her regent council should be responsible, but to do that would fly in the face of all the great men who made her who she is. In the many long and boring planning meetings, she put her foot down time and time again on the subject when she was met with opposition. The conversation would then turn to other traditions and customs, detailing their meaning and what they entailed as the planning committee ran through the schedule of the ceremony.

It is because of these five men that Ellie decides to have each of them escort her a part of the way down the nave of the cathedral. Leo first, a few meters before he kisses her cheek and Bertrand puts his arm out for her to take. Tears shine in his eyes, this tradition was something she’d so beautifully and masterfully modified to bring her wedding into one that would be remembered forever. A few meters. Maxwell awaits her, his arms wide, drawing her into a tight hug before he remembers where they were, a few more meters. He kisses both her cheeks. Drake stands proud waiting his turn, trying hard to belie the fact that he’s already crying. Her hand slips into the crook of his elbow and he walks her a few more meters to the crossing, where the nave and transept meet in the cathedral. As she starts to let her hand fall from his arm, she feels him grasp her hand and he looks at her wordlessly and nods.

It is from here she walks alone. The furthest distance of her journey to be done in memory of the man she wishes she knew the most, her father, the king. The man. Her left hand slips from her bouquet to a small, discrete pocket custom sewn into her gown only days before. It is here where she keeps her most prized possession with her on this momentous day. The letter from her father, words meant only for her. Words that kept him alive in her heart. Her fingers run over the envelope’s surface within her pocket, a reassuring texture on this pivotal day in her life. As she starts her final steps and catches the glance of her husband to be, she wondered if he would’ve approved. She has to believe he would and her heart is so incredibly full.

[sleepychai-fics]

Darkiplier x Reader - Stay Here (Part 2 of “Why Stay?”)

Part two for those who wanted it. hope you enjoy it!

Words: 2161

My senses whirl around my mind, too fast for me to comprehend what is what. My body tenses defensively in fear and caution, my arms rising as some form of protection. 

I back away in small steps, my knees bent and shaking with adrenaline. My gaze shifts between the knife and my now ex-lover.

“I ask you to do one thing for me the moment we met. Respect me and give me your loyalty.” They say as they inch closer and closer to me.

I continue stepping back, keeping a safe distance with the knife. “This has nothing to do with that.” I say quietly.

They scoff and swipe the knife at me. I barely miss it as I duck behind them. My breathing accelerates with my heartbeat, my lungs and heart almost throbbing in my throat.

“This has everything to with it! You made an oath to me!” They slashed the knife at me as I ran over to the kitchen, using the kitchen island as an interceptor.

“I never made an oath and I never would!”

They growl at me and throw the knife at me. I duck down and scream before being yanked up by the collar. I gasp and throw my elbow back, connecting fiercely with their jaw and causing them to release their grip on me.

I use this opportunity to scramble out of the kitchen and bolt towards the stairs.

“Dark!” I scream, reaching the top of the stairs in record time and dashing into the closest room, slamming and locking the door behind me.

I lean against the door, putting all my weight on it as I hear the thumps of feet closing in.

How did this happen you may ask? Well it’s a simple question. You know how I told Dark I’d break up with my partner throughout the week? Yeah, turns out on the third day of trying, they had enough and now they’ve gone yandere. So that’s fun. Now just to wait for Dark too sh-

A loud bang causes my body to jolt from the door but I quickly recover and press my body further onto the door.

“DARK!!!!” I scream once again as the bangs and jolts continue.

“You scared of the dark?! Well I’ll make you scared of so much more!!!” They hit the door once more and breaks open the door.

I let out another scream and pounce away from the door, crawling to the nearest corner and pushing myself into it. Tears pour down my face as I turn around, looking at my death as it creeps closer to me with a chef’s knife poised in the air.

“Oh (Y/n), I’ll make sure you never disobey me or disrespect me ever again.” Their smile is sickening and their eyes only show the killing nature in them.

I lose all hope and cradle into myself, hugging my knees whilst holding my shaking hands up, protecting my head. My shoulders block my ears, not wanting to hear the impending death.

A few seconds go by silently, with only muffled noises, like screaming and banging being heard. A rapid chill encases the room as if icy fans suddenly appeared. My breathing and heartbeat refuse to calm down along with my tears and sobs. I shake uncontrollably in the corner, my mind set on the death that is sure to come.

A gentle hand graces my hand and I flinch and scream, swinging my arms around on instinct.

“(Y/n)! Calm down (Y/n) it’s just me. Your safe now.” The soothing voice is familiar, my muscles simultaneously relaxing as the hands caress my legs.

I stop my flailing arms and open my eyes, staring into the black hues that swirl with concern and regret.

My arms move on instinct and wrap themselves around his neck. He responds immediately and brings me closer to him, cradling me in his arms.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner; I hope I was on time.” His calm and deep voice soothes me and welcomes me in the safety of him.

I sigh and hug him tighter. “It’s fine, as long as you made it here.” I wince in pain as I shift my elbow and hit my rib.

Dark pulls away and inspects me as I cradle in on myself, my hands covering my rib and applying pressure on it. He’s quick to notice the problem and covers my hands with one of his own and the other guiding my head to face his.

“Rest now, I’ll take care of you. That is my absolute promise.” Dark’s words are slow and his eyes stare into mine, diluting at me. I seem to lull towards sleep as his hands graze up and down my arm. All thoughts of pain are erased as I allow his manipulation to take control, muscles relaxing and letting the streaks of darkness take over my mind and consciousness.

When I wake, I notice I’m no longer in my house, no longer in the dark room that I had been trapped in. Instead, I was met with white walls and some sort of doctor’s equipment.

There were curtains that closed halfway, letting me see into the clean white room. Beside me was a table with a tray full of food and a glass of water.

My mouth goes dry after seeing the water and I go to sit up but pause once a wave of pain pulses through my body. I wince and barely manage to swing my legs to the side, letting them droop off the bed.

I take in deep breaths as I apply pressure to my rib, feeling a thick bandage on it. I lift up my shirt slightly, which I’ve also noticed has changed to an oversized white top. I graze my fingers along the skin until they hit the fabric of the bandage.

I curse under my breath and let the shirt drop back into place. I reach over and grab the water, nearly sculling the whole glass. I carefully set it down and slide off the bed with ease. I make small steps and peek around the curtain, confirming the emptiness of the room. I glance at the door, seeing it slightly ajar, and slowly walk towards it.

Just as I open the door fully, I hear a voice, almost as if the door was a barrier of sound. The voices sound concerned and acknowledging. I peer my head through the corridor and recognition hits me like a brick.

The walls and floors are familiar as well as the vast variety of decorations. It’s the Iplier house. I smile to myself, content with the overwhelming safety that reliefs me. I step out of the room, closing the door, and steadily head towards the voices.

Each step I take the voices seem to get louder. My hands wrap themselves around me with one over my rib.

Finally, I reach the room I’m looking for. The voices don’t stop and I’m able to recognise them. I breathe in and open the door and almost lose my balance.

The Jim brothers pounce out of the room, completely knocking me over and pushing me into a wall. I grunt loudly as the impact, slapping a hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming. I screw my eyes shut, not ready for the unexpected pain. I slide down the wall, my legs giving out on me.

I hear footsteps and hear panicked voices. A large, warm hand gently pulls on the hand covering my mouth. I tightly seal my lips, holding my breath as I squeeze onto the hand. Another hand gently rests on my other hand. I tense before I feel a cool sensation emit from the hand.

In seconds, the pain evaporates and transitions to contentment. I let go of my breath and take in deep intakes of air.

I open my eyes and look up to find a very concerned Dark caressing my hand, Dr Iplier hovering his hand above my injury with a faint pale blue glow emitting from it and Wilfred standing to the side scolding very miserable Jims.

“(Y/n), are you ok? Are you hurt?” Dark asks, eyes inspecting me.

“I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt that much anymore.” I can feel Dark relax after I say that, his thumb scraping over my knuckle.

“You shouldn’t have gotten out of bed. Your wound is fragile and could open up again at any moment.” Dr Iplier informs, removing his hand from mine and standing up.

Dark grabs both my arms and carefully helps me up with him. I grunt at the small movement. “Yeah well I didn’t expect the Jims to crash through the door at that time.”

Dr Iplier shakes his head and looks at me with a seriousness that normally is directed at his patients, which in this case I guess I am. “You should not be moving your body at all, you need to allow it time to heal.”

“Oh well too ba- Whoa, hey! Put me down!”

Dark swings his arms under my knees and catches me with his arm on my back, carrying me down the halls in bridal style. We leave the rest of the egos standing there as Dark walks with silent feet through the halls. I already know where we’re going.

It doesn’t take long to get there as it’s only a couple of turns. The door opens automatically when we’re only a few steps away from the door, and closes once we walk through.

Dark walks straight to his bed and gently lays me down on it. I immediately attempt to get up but Dark’s arms pin down my shoulders. I struggle against him, having no strength on him.

He stares down at me, eyes intensifying. “Stay on this bed.” I growl at him as he stands up and off of the bed. I go to move off of the bed but an invisible wall stops me from doing so.

I glare at him. “Fuck you and your stupid fucking manipulation.”

Dark smiles smugly. “My manipulation is what helps you my darling. It’s especially useful when you are being your particular stubborn self.”

I cross my arms and look away, huffing and dropping my bottom lip. I hear a slight shuffling but pay no attention to it. It isn’t until I feel hands slide around my waist do I let out a squeak.

Dark pulls me into his chest, his blazer carefully placed around a chair leaving him in his thin, plain white shirt that hugs his body and lets me feel every single refined muscle of him. I unconsciously snuggle into him and weave my arms around his neck, lying my head on his chest with my ear pressed against it, allowing me to hear the faint, irregular heartbeat of his.

For a minute, it’s just the two of us and the silence. Him and I, two unlikely best friends enjoying the company of each other. It’s like the world has been put at peace for this one moment.

“Can I ask what you were discussing?” I ask, curiosity lingering in my voice.

I physically feel Dark staring at me so I look up and confirm my feeling, locking eyes with his obsidian ones. “What? You’re not letting me leave this bed and I’m bored.”

Dark sighs through his nose before looking up and pushing me back into his chest. “We were discussing room arrangements.”

“Room arrangements? What do you mean? Is there a new ego coming?”

“Not necessarily.”

Silence submerges the room. I mindlessly begin to stroke my across Dark’s neck, feeling the skin rubs against mine, almost lulling me to sleep. I squish my nose into his chest and close my eyes.

“How would you feel if you made this mansion your own?’

My eyes shoot open and I push myself off of Dark, slightly disturbing my wound. I stare at him, eyes wide open. Dark isn’t much different, his eyes also wide and his face open in shock.

“What?!”

“You don’t have to. It was just a suggestion. I figured that you would like to stay here, stay in your safe place. But it’s in your full control. If you want to move in, we are more than happy to allow you to. If you don’t then it’s fi-“

I throw myself at Dark, tightly wrapping my arms around his shoulder and burying my face into his neck, tears falling down in happiness.

“Of course I’ll move in.” My voice cracks but I don’t care, relaxing into the comforting arms of Dark. “Thank you, Dark.”

Dark eventually relaxes and envelops my body in his arms. “Your welcome. You deserve nothing but the best from now on.”

He cradles me in his arms as I sob into his neck, leaving ugly tear marks on his shirt. But neither of us cared, all we cared about was the safety and serenity of each other.

[viciousheart]

the christening ritual of a new home base: a drabble.

(  rewritten !  )

a waterfall can be heard in the distance everywhere on this base. viviana doesn’t know what this building was used for before, but aside from a few exiled grounders that were… taken care of quickly, it’s completely abandoned, and  —  viviana’s favourite part  —  the farthest from azgeda territory they’ve ever been. just outside of trikru territory, but still surrounded by plenty of trees and wilderness that keep the building hidden from sight until you’re on it.

it’s finally finished being prepared, and all the dokwochakru that were able to leave their posts have come to christen a new base, and hear their queen renew her vows. 

the feast they have isn’t too bad, either.   (  she’s pretty sure most come for the feast.  )

a young girl, twelve or thirteen years old, brushes and puts viviana dark locks into intricate braids. the blood queen smiles at her in the mirror.    ❛  you’re name is alona, right?  —  i like how you left most of my hair down, but just pulled some up into braids. you’re very good.  ❜    the girl blushes, and an elderwoman  —  alona’s grandmother, if viviana remembers correctly  —  gives her a pointed look that clearly reads: thank your queen.

so, she hurries out a hushed thank you, and, through the mirror, viviana sees the elderwoman shake her head, and it makes her laugh lightly.    ❛  don’t worry, alona. i was shy when i was your age, as well.  —  do you want to be a handmaid when you get older?  ❜    

it takes her a moment, but viviana raises an eyebrow, encouraging her to speak up.    ❛  i want to be a warrior.  ❜    she announces proudly, a big smile taking over her features. 

the old woman stomps her foot, giving alona a hard stare. but viviana doesn’t mind. she’s actually quite fond of children. they’re just so… innocent. untouched by the hatred in this world. viviana wishes she could save them from ever finding out that the world is anything besides sweetness  &  innocence  &  dreams of possibilities.    ❛  alona, i look forward to the day you’re sworn in as a warrior. i hope you’ll do me the honour of being your first sword fight on that day.  ❜    viviana says, and alona smiles shyly, but nods eagerly.

once the child’s finished with her hair, the elderwoman helps her into her dress. it’s red, with a sweeping cape sown onto it.    ❛  you’re work is breathtaking. i’ve never seen such delicate and beautiful thread work.  ❜    the queen compliments the old woman as she admires the dress in a cracked mirror. the elderwoman says a polite thank you, and bows deeply to excuse herself and her granddaughter, leaving viviana to finish getting ready. 

she takes out her silver canister, now full to the top since the last attack left them with plenty of dead bodies, and plenty of blood for viviana’s warpaint. she dips a finger in before turning to the mirror so she can see to trace the blood over her azgeda scars. and then she waits a couple minutes for it to dry before tracing them over again. she repeats the process twice more, to make the colour nice and deep, as rich as the red of her dress.

this is an important day, an important ritual. once upon a time, they used to christen a new base with a simple toast. and then they added a feast because, when they abandon an old base, they clear out the gardens  &  the smoke houses. but, by the time they’re set up in a new base, the food is near rotting. so, they began cooking it all for a grand feast to celebrate dokwochakru. but, during one rebirthing ritual, as she the new clansmen swore himself to her and to the ghost people, she realized something important. 

these people, all of them have vowed their loyalty  ---  their lives  ---  to dokwochakru, and to viviana as a person, as a queen. they bow before her that day, and they look to her every day after that for leadership, for protection and dedication. but she’d never vowed anything to them. and viviana as a queen, and dokwochakru itself would not exist without them. 

she’s drawn out of her thoughts by three rasps on her door. 

viviana takes a deep breath before calling out to enter. greer, the head guard  &  viviana’s advisor,   (  and, in fact, the very first dokwochakru member. the woman who first believed in viviana as a queen, and the woman who made dokwochakru possible.  )   takes a single step through the entry way, bowing formally to her queen.    ❛  we are ready for you, jus kwin.  ❜    her voice is even, cool  &  calm as always. but there’s a question on her face. 

viviana nods at her with a smile, assuring her that she’s ready, and alright. she stands, moving toward greer and the door with her cape flowing behind her. the head guard steps out of the way, and viviana exits the room. the three guards standing in the hallway, and greer, get into formation around viviana. they make a square with their queen in the middle. in moments like this, with her flowing gown, and her own guards, viviana feels like a queen of old she’d read about in books. it fills her with confidence.   (  and some arrogance.  )

they reach the largest room in the base, where her throne sits atop a platform, and all the clansmen wait. the four guards move to their positions beside the platform  ---  two on each side  ---  and viviana stops at the bottom of its two stairs. the room is dead silent. 

greer holds out her sword in its sheath, and viviana takes it out, pressing the point into the ground. she looks around at the faces of her people, raising her chin.    ❛  today we gather here to christen this new home, to celebrate it with feast  &  drink.  ❜    she pauses, eyes sweeping the crowd again.    ❛  you are also here to hear me renew the vows i make to you, so i may swear my fealty, once again, to you, my people, my family.  ❜  

her hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword, the blood queen lowers herself onto one knee. the head guard then takes a red crown made of animal bones and places it on her head. it’s a magnificent thing that took over a year of hard work to craft to perfection. 

❛  ai laik viviona, jus kwin kom dokwochakru,  ❜    she begins, keeping her head bowed as she speaks, but making sure her voice is clear  &  strong.    ❛  and i vow to you, the people, the heart  &  soul of dokwochakru. i vow upon this crown of blood and bone you have built for me. and i vow upon this kingdom that you’ve raised from nothing for me. and i vow on these precious lives you have trusted to me that i will do everything with this power you have bestowed upon me to protect you. to provide for you. to give you the family you’ve been searching for.  ❜    she looks up now, her expression  ---  heart heart  ---  filled with pride.

❛  and, above all, i vow to fight for you, to fight beside you. and to lay down my own life for you. gratefully. honoured to have been able to serve you as your queen.  ❜

now, viviana takes her sword, and draws the sharp edge across her palm. blood blossoms, black as night, from her palm.    ❛  because you hail me your jus kwin, and you swear your life and loyalty to me,  i shall swear mine to you, while my blood stains the ground and marks this our home.  ❜    she turns her hand upside down, and blood drips onto the floor.

 after enough blood has dripped onto the floor, viviana finally stands, and says, once more, this time louder and with more passion behind it.    ❛  ai laik viviona, jus kwin kom dokwochakru!  ❜    she raises her sword high in the air, and the whole room speaks together, as one single voice.    ❛  osir laik dokwochakru. dokwochakru fou hogeda!  ❜  

the room raises two fingers in the air, in the shape of a V. viviana makes the same shape with her hand, and pounds it twice against her chest. the clansmen all do the same before they begin chanting dokwochakru fou hogeda! as their queen ascends the two steps of the platform, and takes her seat on the throne before them, laying her sword across her lap. she raises one hand into the air, and the entire room falls silent in the same second.

❛  let us feast!  ❜    she calls out with a grin, and the room is engulfed in cheers once more. their excitement is infectious, and viviana’s heart beats to the rhythm of the cheering.

meat, vegetables, and alcohol is passed around to everyone as the chatter and liveliness picks up quickly. every couple of minutes, a clansmen will come up to the foot of the platform and kneels. they all thank her for her loyalty to them, and they, once again, swear theirs to her, even though it’s unnecessary tonight.   (  but so, so heart - warming.  )

viviana looks out at her people, enjoying themselves for the first time in a long time. they sing, and dance, and reminisce, and tell each other stories of their time spent apart. and viviana thinks of how very lucky she is. this, right here, is why she decided to vow herself to them as they do to her. each and every one of them swears oaths of fealty to her. they take her brand. they follow her. they believe in her, and they look to her, and listen to her words.

they love her. and she, them. 

each of them is a branch on the tree that is dokwochakru, and viviana is the roots. 

she would be nothing, and dokwochakru wouldn’t even exist without them. 

❛  jus kwin,  ❜    greer’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts, and she turns her head to look at the woman.    (  if dokwochakru is a tree, the clansmen it’s branches, and viviana its roots, then greer is its strong, steady trunk. never wavering, holding them all up.  )    ❛  would you like me to get you something to eat, perhaps a drink?  ❜    she asks. 

the queen shakes her head, grinning.   ❛  no, greer  ---  ❜    she looks from the woman to the other three guards who stand centry at the sides of the platform.    ❛  all of you, go. eat, drink, be merry for once.  ❜    greer looks as if she’s about to protest, but viviana cuts her off.    ❛  i order you, as your queen. tonight is a night of fun. so, go. relax. this instant. i only wish for nothing more than to see all of my people enjoy themselves for tonight.  ❜

and, that night, she does. and it makes her happier than she’s been in months  &  months.

[ask-valerian-40k]

Horus Appears

spoilers

obviously

be warned:

'And the Warmaster? He is here, isn't he?' Aspertia's machine voice warbled.

Sota-Nul inclined her head and stood aside, leaving the access ramp free.

'The Warmaster,' she said.

A group of armoured figures appeared suddenly in the ruddy interior, as if they had walked out of thick mist. They were universally savage, their armour hung with awful trophies. First out was a grinning warrior with a high topknot who swept the delegation with a challenging gaze. Three others came with him in a close group, then a Space Marine with halting gait and a serious mien. Their bare faces were pale and angry.

When they were arrayed at the ramp's edge the Warmaster came out.

Horus wore a variant of Terminator armour crafted specifically for his primarch's frame. His hands were sheathed in giant gauntlets from whose backs sprouted claws as long as swords. But impressive though his armour was, it merely acted as a frame for his majesty. His visage was at once beautiful and terrible. He was handsome by standards applicable to gods, his features sculpted by a hand of rare genius. All eyes in Tria Station were fixed upon that face. It was impossible to look away from it. He wore a smile that promised generosity and violence in equal measure.

'Citizens of the Martian Empire,' he said. He did not speak loudly, but his voice carried further than that of the most skilled actor. 'I have come to you to free you from the lies of the False Emperor, my father.'

When he spoke, every thinking being in earshot willed their hearts to be still in case they missed the slightest nuance to his words. When he paused, they craved more.

'You have shown great wisdom in joining yourselves to my cause. At my side, you will help me usher in a new era for the Mechanicum. Together, as equals, not in the master and slave relationship the Emperor forced upon your noble nation, we shall reforge the galaxy and declare a new Terran Empire that shall rival the greatest realms of the ancient days. Only with me can mankind reach its true potential. By embracing the truth of the empyrean shall we conquer the galaxy and rule supremely for evermore.'

A cheer erupted from every mouth and mechanical augment. An outpouring of love for the Warmaster banished every trace of fear, so loud and fervent the ships in the docks shook.

By a great act of will Cawl cut all forms of broadcast and plugged any external data receivers he could find in his augments. He shielded his biological thoughts with a repeated loop of devotional binaric chants that drowned out the speech of the conqueror.

The whole of Trisolian was enthralled. This was the legendary charisma of Horus Lupercal gone bad from within, like a great tree whose limbs bear green leaves and fresh shoots, but whose heartwood is rotted out. The compulsion to listen went far beyond that engendered by a man of oratorical prowess. The effect the words had was out of all proportion to their meaning. He was an artwork of a master overwritten by a less kind hand, its nobility perverted into something vile An urge to abase himself before this man gripped Cawl, and he knew it was wrong through and through.

'A great age beckons our species,' Horus continued, and though Cawl was now intentionally deaf, he heard it still. 'To share in it I ask only that you pledge your service to me for the duration of this war. The forces of the Emperor are strong. The misguided stand before me. Every gun fired in my service no matter by which branch of humanity is a shot fired in the name of truth.' He lifted a massive claw and pointed at an adept upon Magos Visreen's grav-dais. 'Do you pledge allegiance to me?' the Warmaster said.

'Me?' The adept looked nervously to his fellows. They drew back from him.

'Answer the Warmaster!' shouted the warrior with the topknot. He plucked a mag-locked pistol from his thigh and aimed it at the hapless man.

The adept was too slow in kneeling. The bolt pistol boomed. The adept's body flowered redly, showering chunks of meat and shattered bionics over the side of the grav-dais. They fell into the null grav zone generated at the heart of the sphere, where they took up orbit, like an orrery made from a butcher's leavings. The echoes of the bolt's detonation rang from far-off surfaces.

'What about you?' said the warrior. He aimed his pistol at another adept.

'Ezekyle, put away your gun,' said Horus.

The warrior named Ezekyle made a dismissive noise, and locked his pistol back to his thigh.

The adept he had aimed at knelt. Then the rest followed suit, displaying their submission in a rustle of robes.

'I am with you,' one said. 'I pledge to serve the Warmaster, for the Greater Glory of the Martian Empire,' said another.

'For the Mechanician, I will follow you,' said a third.

So it went on. Wordlessly it was made perfectly clear that all were expected to voice their loyalty. Horus looked to each man and woman present as his lieutenants watched, the threat of death plain in their faces.

The litany of surrender proceeded. The ripples of abasement lapped out into the crowds below, and they proclaimed their loyalty. Cawl kept his head bowed the whole time, until the words stopped, and he looked up to find the would-be master of mankind staring directly at him.

An ancient Terran saying had it that the eyes were windows to the soul. In that moment, Cawl could believe it to be true. What he saw behind Horus' face was burned into his memory forever.

He could never serve what he saw behind those eyes.

'I am with you, my lord,' he said. 'I pledge my service to you and my life.' The oath was hollow. As he spoke, his interference cant shielding his mind, the thought of escape rose urgently in his thoughts.

When the giving of oaths was done, Horus looked over the leaders of the forge world, and into the crowds packing the skin of the sphere.

'Death is the price of disloyalty to me,' he said, and the screens showed his vastly magnified face. 'But know this - if I bring suffering to some it is because I would save you.'

He returned to his ship. His men followed. Sota-Nul was the last aboard. She turned at the top of the ramp, and looked down upon Aspertia's barge. The Stormbird's engines ignited, their jet burn focusing to searing daggers of fire. 'You are the Warmasters now,' she shouted over the rising whine of the ship. 'Do not forget your oaths. Shortly I shall send advisers to you. With the blessing of Kelbor-Hal, await your orders.' The ramp rose. Before it had closed fully, the Stormbird lifted off, turned and accelerated away.

[bangtan-yeonghon]

Oath | Ch.23.2 | Jungkook

Genre: Angst | Mafia!AU

Members: Jungkook | You/Reader | Yoongi | Taehyung | Namjoon | Hoseok | Jin | Jimin |

Summary: What if one day everything you ever wanted is taken away and your whole world comes crushing down? If you were to forget today, who would you be tomorrow?

| Previous Chapter | Chapter List | Next Chapter |

Word count: 4,644

A/N: I am so pleased with how this one turned out. Although I am not so sure about the ending, I might not like it in a day or two, but I really wanted to post it so I had to go with this. As always, thank you for reading my story, I hope you enjoy this part as well, and have a great day/ evening! ^^

D-DAY

"So you're finally showing your real face..." Jimin's low voice scared the life out of you. "Traitor," the disgust in his voice was triggering you somehow.

"I'm not..." you were too panicked to even make a sentence.

It was as if ever since Jungkook showed up everything turned upside down for you within the group. Everyone kept pushing you away from him, accusing you of stuff you did not do, doubting your loyalty, and always keeping you under their radar. It was exhausting.

"You're not what? So you want to tell me you weren't thinking of running away just now?" he was taking slow steps towards you, crushing the grass under his boots. "I'm not Taehyung, Y/N, you can't fool me with your pretty eyes and sweet words. I can see right through your bullshit."

"It's not bullshit!" you raised your voice.

"Hmph. You keep going against my words. You must really have a death wish or something. Where is all this confidence coming from, huh?" he was standing right in front of you, both frowning at each other. "Maybe if you kept your mouth shut every now and then it would have been better. I see Taehyung already had a say in this and I'm glad he did. You needed to be taught a lesson, and you got a good one I see. You better behave now."

"I am not a dog, Jimin!"

"Still at it, huh? Maybe you need another round. Should I force you to go down there again? I can do it with no problem."

"Keep your hands off of me," you slapped his arms away. "Remember that I'm also a member of this group! I'll not betray the family so stop with this fake heroic act of making me the bad one here. I swear to God you seem like a totally different person at times. I really don't know what your problem is, but don't drag me in it. I can't believe I used to consider you my friend, Jimin."

"You've become quite the arrogant one, Y/N. That was before you went there and helped that piece of shit. Have you ever seen us do that? No. Did anyone tell you to? No. Have you asked for permission at least? You haven't, you just acted on your own, like a thief in the dark, even after everyone told you not to go near this place."

"He could have helped us. He can help us!"

"He won't!! Are you fucking blind or just plain stupid? He is one of Black Tiger's men, the only thing he will do is destroy us! Get that in your head!"

"I'm not a traitor, Jimin!"

"Then don't act like one!"

"Excuse me for trying my best to help and for risking my life for this group!"

"It was you who chose this life! Don't play the victim!"

"Then would you have let me go that day? Just like that?"

"Probably not," he smirked.

"Exactly as I thought. There already was no going back for me, so why not try to integrate instead. My life outside this group was already a mess anyways. I had nothing to lose."

"Playing the brave girl like always...fine, have it your way, but one day you'll come to regret all of this."

"I'll take care of that!" you walked past him.

"Mark my words, Y/N, stop playing with fire or you'll get hurt!" his screams were echoing through the forest.

Your mind was clouded by all kinds of thoughts  now. How could Jimin help you in a job one day while acting as a friend and the next day turn into the coldest person, threatening you. Maybe this is how this world was: full of two face people, betrayal, and danger. Taehyung was even worse: it was as if he had several different personalities, going from sweet and loving to dark and seductive or to scarry really quick. Maybe this was the secret to his charm. He would make you feel secure and then shake the earth under your feet like it was nothing. His ever changing personality was draining you at times.

But with Jungkook it was different; it was like a walk on an isolated, pristine beach somewhere in the middle of nowhere, a place where your soul is at peace and everything feels warm and secure. It was not the kind that would enchant you like Taehyung's, but rather something that dragged you into it without even noticing.

You were slowly making your way up to your room when your eyes stopped on the feet of a man standing still at the end of the stairs, just like he was waiting for you.

"You're full of surprises, Y/N."

"Hoseok..." fear was covering you in its cold touch once again.

"This is the what? Third time you go against Taehyung's word? You got nerve, I give you that. But use it wisely, princess, we don't want any more lying bodies on the halls of this house. You are a special case for Taehyung, I could see that, not many escaped his rage outbursts. Everyone has their eyes on you now, Y/N. Helping a traitor is not something we do."

"Why can't anyone see that I am not helping him, but trying to get some info."

"Even so, that's not out way. You want info, you apply pressure where it hurts until he opens his mouth."

"What if he dies? You can't get anything out of a dead man. He could really die there."

"Not your business."

You were out of words. It seems like anything you said was not good enough, and was only making things worse.

"Take my advice: don't test Taehyung's limits. You need to make a decision, a clear one."

"I-"

"No need to tell me anything, I don't care. But whatever you do, you must take the responsibility for it. I think you know what that means. That's all I wanted to say," he was about to leave when you spoke again.

"I'm not a traitor..." your voice was soft, cracking a bit as your throat felt sore.

"Words are just words, Y/N, actions speak louder. Not to say that that's exactly what a traitor would say. You took a wrong step, fix that first, don't just throw excuses everywhere. That's how you survive."

He left right after finishing his sentence, leaving you speechless. You peeked at your left, worrying that Yoongi would come out of his office and scold you as well. He was the one you feared the most, since you put your life in his hands in exchange for a spot in the group. You took another step and looked around. Nobody was there. You moved your feet as quickly and quietly as you could and went straight to your room, sighing in relief once you leaned your back against the closed door. Your feet lost their strength so you collapsed to the floor as tears ran down your cheeks.

"How does that feel like, Jungkookie?" Taehyung spoke in a low tone, heading towards his victim. "How hoes betrayal feel like?" he spoke with an evil smile on his face. He had the eyes of a crazy man when Jungkook started laughing.

"I wouldn't know," he said. "Y/N never failed me...but it seems you can't say the same thing," he chuckled.

"Oh, seems our Jungkookie still has the energy to speak," he dug his nails into his wound, making him scream at the top of his lungs. "This is fun. Let's see how long you can keep it going, Jeon Jungkook."

"This...won't change a thing. Y/N...she's not yours," another scream filled the room.

"I just showed you she is. Still can't realize you'll never get her back? She even remembered you and still here you are. Alone! Abandoned! Forgotten! Left behind!"

"You don't know her. You think you do...but you don't. And you already made a big mistake...She already came back to me."

Taehyung grabbed his jaw, eyes digging into his as he squeezed it as hard as he could. Jungkook smirked.

"What's happening here? Having fun on your own?" Jimin chuckled from behind.

"What are you doing here?" Taehyung turned to him.

"Came to visit an old..."friend". Long time no see, Jungkookie," he was standing right next to Taehyung, examining Jungkook's face. "You don't look  too well. Oh, you even got a bullet. The shoulder? Really Taehyung? I thought you'd be better at this."

"That wasn't me."

"Then?" he faced Jungkook with a smile. "Aah! Y/N...So that's why she was trembling like a leaf a few minutes ago."

"You met her?!"

"Yeah, she was standing outside looking like a ghost with that white shirt and everything. Wait a second...where is your shirt?"

"I gave it to her."

"What did you three do here?" he chuckled. "You perverted freaks, you should've called me too!"

"Shut you stupid mouth!" Jungkook growled before spitting some blood on Jimin's shoes.

"You piece of shit!!" his hand flew to his neck. "Those were new!"

Taehyung pulled his arm and pushed him back a little gaining an angry and confused face from Jimin.

"What the fuck, Tae?!"

"For the 1st time...I agree with him. Watch your mouth, Jimin."

"That bitch got you all under her spell," he scoffed. "Do you even know she wanted to run away just now, Taehyung?"

"What?"

"You heard me! She was about to start running when I caught her. You should've seen the look on her face," he laughed.

"Where is she now?" Taehyung grabbed him by the collar.

"How am I supposed to know? She was heading towards the house. I gave her quite the scare, hope she didn't actually run away. Though I wouldn't mind it," he glanced at Jungkook. "She reached her purpose."

"Park Jimin!"

"What?!"

They were both clenching their jaws, almost as if they were both trying hard not to throw a great punch at each other. Jungkook was breathing heavily, fighting not to lose conscience even though he was on the edge of fainting.

"You and I will have a talk later. Keep an eye on him!" Taehyung released him and walked towards the door.

"Since when are you in charge here, Taehyung, giving orders and everything?"

"Are you really going to be like this?!"

"Don't worry, I wanted to have my moment with him anyways. Go to your beloved Y/N before she does anything stupid again and gets herself killed."

He ran up the stairs, jumping some as he went, desperate to find you. If you really ran away, that would be the end. Nobody could leave the group without Yoongi's permission. And that hardly happened. You would end up on a chair next to Jungkook, or with a bullet straight to your head.

"Jimin...if you did something to Y/N..."

"What will you do? Take a better look at yourself," he crouched in front of Jungkook. "You can't do anything right now. So how about this: you tell me what I need to hear, and I'll promise not to kill you."

"Fuck off..."

Jimin laughed and pulled Jungkook's hair back, making him groan in pain.

"Listen, kid, I'm kinda tired and have no time for bullshit. Y/N shot you, huh? So she really forgot about you...at least she wasn't faking that one. Let me tell you a funny story. She kinda turned me on when she came to my room acting all tough and shit. Tae, that bastard, ruined the moment though. What a waste...I could've made her scream louder."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he spoke slowly, barely even keeping his eyes open.

"Oh they fucked right after that. Quite the romantic type, Taehyung. He put music and shit thinking I won't hear anything. I would've joined them, but he locked the door. That was quite the turn on. Damn, I could have jerked off to that."

"Shut the fuck up..."

"I wonder if she moaned so much when you fucked her. Wait...did you even do it?"

"You're sick..."

"Oh, poor Jungkookie, that's why she must've forgotten you so easily."

"Is that why you can't get a girl?"

"There we go. That's the spirit," he punched him in the stomach. "This is getting fun. Do make me angry. I love a good fight."

"This...is not even...a fair fight."

"Nor was it back then at the docks. But that didn't seem to bother you."

"You know shit...about me..."

"I know just enough. Now, if you care to share, please do. Start with...uhm...everything about Namjoon's group. Wait, YOUR group, forgot for a second you're one of his dogs."

"Let Y/N go first..."

"Nope. Not gonna happen."

"You said...she's already done...her part," it was hard for him to speak; he was swallowing and breathing in between words, breaking the sentence into small pieces. "Let her go..."

"What part of "no" is so hard to understand? She is a member of the family now, no going back. And she can be quite useful at times, you know. Not the innocent girl you once thought she was. Did you see her at Namjoon's hotel? Oh wait, you shot her! What a drama! Tragic!" he smiled as Jungkook just stared at him. "It really breaks my heart! And now she shot you. Oh, I almost cried!"

"Fuck off, Park Jimin."

"Ah, this is really fun! Do you know how long I waited for this moment? And I thought I lost you in that car accident...too bad Namjoon got there first. But then again, all of this wouldn't have happened. Aah..." he yawned. "Seems like I'm getting tired. Well, I guess this is it for today....too bad, I wanted to play more. Don't worry though, I'll be back."

He left the room, turning off the lights before locking the door. In the deep darkness Jungkook's cries of pain and deep sights were the only sign of a living person being there. His body was slowly reaching its limits. It did not take long for him to fall unconscious and escape from the growing pain.

You heard footsteps coming towards you room at a fast pace and stood up and away from the door right before Taehyung barged in. Your pulse went through the roof at the sight. He was looking at you while out of breath from all the running and you were doing the same thing, not knowing what to expect. You did exactly as he wanted, why did he look so desperate? He pushed his body forward without saying anything, making you think he was about to hit you. And just when you closed your eyes in fear, you felt his arms wrapping around you so tightly it was hard to move.

"You didn't run anyway. You're here!" he released you from his embrace and brushed your hair. "Never run away, Y/N!"

"I won't..."

"But you wanted to."

You looked at him, not able to say anything. Jimin must have told him.

"If there's any place you want to go tell me and I'll take you there."

"There isn't..."

"Then don't do anything stupid," he noticed his shirt was painted red by the blood that was still rushing from your wound. Now that the rage faded away, he felt bad for making you go through pain again. "Take the shirt off, I need to see what's happening with your wound."

You sat in silence on the edge of the bed as he did his job. You were both calm, as if nothing had happened half an hour ago. When he was done he placed a kiss on your shoulder and helped you put a shirt on. Everything seemed good, only that you kept your head down, avoiding his eyes, as if guilt and anger played with your soul.

"You seem tired. You should rest, Y/N. I'll tell the boys to get you something to eat."

You gave a short, soft nod and he left, giving you the space you wanted. It took only a couple of minutes for you to fall asleep, finally giving your brain some rest.

"Oh, Taehyung, come to my office for a bit. I have something to tell you," Yoongi said just when Taehyung was closing the door to your room. Hoseok and Jimin were with him already.

"What's happening?" Hoseok said.

Yoongi handed him a fancy looking card that looked like an invitation to an important event. He read it out loud for the others to hear as well.

"Seems like you have quite the interest in me, Min Yoongi.

I appreciate your efforts of planting bugs in my office. Quite the thrilling experience, I admit.

If you're so eager to find things about me, how about we meet face to face?

10 PM tonight, Club 9.

And don't try anything funny. We wouldn't want our first meeting to turn into a bloodbath, would we?

Your beloved,

Kim Namjoon"

"This bitch is crazy," Hoseok started to laugh. "Hyung, what are you going to do?"

"We're going to do exactly as he says."

"What?"

Yoongi was smirking behind his desk.

"If he wants us to go there, we will. It's part of his game. And I already know what he's after."

"Jungkook..." Taehyung mumbled.

"Bingo! We have something he wants. And he's scared of what Jungkook would say now that he met Y/N too. That means he'll try to trade him for something. That is what makes me play his game."

"What if he has other plans? We can't just go there like this," Hoseok said.

"I'll have to take the risk."

"Shall we take some men with us, then?"

"You two are enough," he pointed to him and Taehyung. "He said no bloodbath, and I don't think he'd try anything there. Jimin I want you to stay with Jungkook, just in case. Get the boys to guard the house too."

"Got it!" Jimin nodded.

"You should all go and sleep...it's going to be a long night."

In no time darkness took over the city, clearing the stage for all the felons to do their thing. Yoongi was going over the plan for the night again with Hoseok, Jimin was already heading towards Jungkook and Taehyung towards your room. Your head moved in the direction of the door just as he entered.

"Oh, you're up. I thought you'd still be sleeping."

"I woke up a few minutes ago."

He sat on the bed next to you and caressed your face with his left hand.

"We have a job."

"Now?"

"Yeah...Namjoon..." your eyes grew wide at the sound of his name. "said to meet him at Club 9."

"No..."

"It's ok, Y/N, Yoongi thinks he won't make a move there."

"I'll get ready," you were about to get out of bed when he pushed you back in.

"No, Y/N, you're not coming. We can't afford having you there. Especially with that wound on your shoulder."

"But..."

"No excuses."

You looked at him, tears filling your eyes.

"Please be careful..."

He smiled and pulled you in for a kiss.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I won't die so easily."

He looked at the clock and stood up, heading towards the door.

"Oh, one more thing...In order for things like that one earlier not to happen again while we're out I'll lock the door."

"What?"

"You have some food here and I'll leave the key to one of the guys in case you want to go to the bathroom."

"No, Taehyung!"

"I'll be back soon," just like that he closed the door, the sound of the lock making you jump out of bed and right at the handle.

"No! Taehyung!! Don't do this, please! Kim Taehyung!!" Your screams and bangs against the hard wood were heard throughout the whole floor and even downstairs.

"She didn't take it so well," Hoseok said.

"I wasn't expecting it either. Is the car ready?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

"Damn it!" you threw one last punch against the door.

You turned around and looked out the window. The sky was so clear that night. You heard the engine of their car getting lost in the distance. There was nothing to do now, you were trapped.

10:05 PM

They parked the car at the back of the club, the place designed for V.I.Ps, and followed the man send by Namjoon to escort them. The door opened to a rather large private room with black marble walls and no windows. There was a chandelier in the center of it, right above the table, with crystals hanging from it. Namjoon was leisurely sipping on some drink, sitting on the black leather sofa that seemed to go around the whole room in a "U" shape.

"The infamous Min Yoongi. I see you brought some friends along as well."

"I'd say the same thing," Yoongi looked at the men standing next to them.

"Oh, don't mind them, they don't bite..." his face turned dark "unless there is a reason for them to."

"You tamed them well, it seems." Yoongi smirked. "My boys tend to be quite wild, so I'd be careful."

"No need to. We are here to have a nice talk, aren't we. Come, take a seat!"

"What exactly made you send that card? I have a feeling it was not just because you wanted to see me."

Namjoon smiled. Yoongi was the kind of man he enjoyed having as an opponent. Playing with someone with his brains and skill was always fun.

"As expected, you didn't gain your name for nothing. I think one of my men is being held hostage and I'd quite want him back."

"Being held hostage is a harsh word considering he offered himself to us."

"He must have had his thoughts clouded by something, now I am sure he'd like to take that back."

"I wouldn't be so sure. He seemed quite keen to share information."

Namjoon clenched his jaw. He thought everything through for a second and then chuckled.

"Just a second, I need to make a phone call," he went out, leaving Yoongi and the boys to wonder what he had in mind.

"How's everything going?"

"We are ready, boss!"

"Good."

"We will go in at your word."

"Go ahead. Remember: find Jungkook and the girl. If you can't get both, each of them would do."

"Yes, boss!"

"Send me a message when you're done and wait for my call."

"Yes, boss!"

Namjoon came back in the room with one hand in his pocket and a proud smile on his face.

"I'm sorry for the interruption. Where were we?"

10: 30 PM

There were lights in the house and shadows moving behind the windows. A few men were smoking in front of the door. Except for that, everything seemed normal. That until gas bombs started flying through the windows, filling the room in a thick layer of smoke. Men wearing black costumes surrounded the house, taking down everyone they encountered as they searched for the two of you.

You jumped at the sound of glass breaking. You peeked out the window and saw smoke coming up. People were screaming, throwing things, and shooting guns downstairs, making you panic. The door was tightly shut, there was no going out. The window was not a good alternative either as the fall would most likely only hurt you more. You heard footsteps coming up followed by the metallic sound of something rolling across the floor and your heart stopped for a second. That was not good. You needed to go out fast. Door were being smashed open and more gas bombs were being thrown across the whole floor. One of them stopped right outside your door, filling your room with the dense smoke as you were trying to make a way out. The window was the only choice. You covered your nose and mouth trying to avoid it as best as you could, but by the time you managed to open the window your head was already spinning. Your feet lost strength, making you fall on your knees and then crash on your side. Your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier, senses fading one by one. You tried to reach for the window again, but your hand fell numb on the floor.

Tae...Taehyung-ah... were your last thoughts before everything went black.

Loud bangs were filling the silence as someone was trying to kick open the door. After a few minutes the door flew open, making way for them to search it. They saw your body lying on the floor and one of them came to examine you. You were still breathing. He picked you up and rushed down to the van. Everything was done with such speed and precision that nobody would have had time to fight back. The gas would kick out a person in seconds, it was something Jin worked on for months.

"Jungkook?"

"No sign of him, sir."

"Damn it! Ok, get in the car!"

With the squealing sound of the wheels, the cars were getting lost in the depth of the night, the only thing left behind as a trace of their visit being broken glass and bodies laying on the floors.

"How about we strike a deal? You'll give us Jungkook back and I will grant you a place in our group," Namjoon said.

Yoongi looked at him with dead eyes.

"Ha!" Taehyung scoffed. "Is this bitch serious?!" he stood up from his seat, but was soon put in his place by Yoongi who grabbed his wrist.

"I don't think you get the picture, so let me clear this up for you a bit. I have no intention of working hand in hand with you or Black Tiger. You are the one on the losing side here."

"Are you willing to sacrifice your whole group then?"

"Don't underestimate my men."

"Fine, then. This was a one in a lifetime chance for you, guess it can't be helped now."

"Don't make plans so fast, Namjoon, the game is not over yet."

"You are so confident you'll win. But I'm not so sure things will go your way."

"We'll see about that."

Namjoon's phone buzzed right as Yoongi was getting up. A smile spread on his face as he read the message.

"We got the girl!"

"Now, if we're done here, I have other business to take care of."

"So soon? The party was only starting though."

He looked back at Namjoon who was holding his phone up.

"Say hello to your precious girl," he chuckled.

They took a closer look at the screen. You were in the back of a van with black strips of material covering your eyes, mouth, and rope wrapping around your wrists and legs.

"YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

Taehyung pulled out his gun and pointed it right at Namjoon's forehead as he laughed. Soon everyone followed, pointing their guns at each other. If he was to pull the trigger, so would the guy holding his pistol against Taehyung's head, and then Hoseok would blow that guy's brains out and so on.

"What are you doing now, Namjoon?" Yoongi spoke.

"An eye for an eye. That only seems fair, don't you think?"

"You cheated," Yoongi laughed. "Going behind my back. That's a low move."

"You would know better. Now, care to reconsider my offer?"

"You can go and fuck yourself. Did you really think I'd say yes?"

"Well it was worth the shot."

"I'll make you pay for this, just wait for it." He turned to Hoseok and Taehyung. "Let's go."

"I'm looking forward to that. Until then I'll keep the girl, although I don't know how long she'll hold out. The clock is ticking Yoongi, don't make me wait too much."

They left the room just as Namjoon took another sip of his drink, visibly satisfied by the outcome. Things were finally going his way.

11:00 PM - Y/N gets kidnapped.

[mo-art-please]

Bound by Steel

Bound by Steel Title: Bound by Steel Type: Fanfiction Characters: Vegeta and Bulma Rating: R (violence, language, sex, drugs and alcohol use) Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, I just love to either draw or write about them  Chapter One

Chapter One

The air was crisp up in the mountains making everything feel fresh and alive. The cool breeze seemed to be calling to Vegeta as it gently blew through the branches and leaves of century-old trees above him. He swore the wind whispered her name in his ear like a soft, soothing lullaby as the group traveled farther up the dirt mountain pass.

They were heading to see her. It had not been his first choice of action but it had been their only choice. If his small group were to get by Freeza and his army to Vegeta-sia then this was the only way.

Vegeta glanced at his fellow companions, although soldiers would be the better term for them. Nappa lead the way up the steep trail, his large frame blocking the view of the road in front of him. He carried a large bag full of supplies on his back and over his shoulder rested a massive battle axe. Its double edge blade glistened in the waning daylight along with his shiny bald head. Usually Saiyans kept their hair visible but Nappa never liked having long locks. Vegeta remembered as a boy he would watch Nappa use a flat blade to shave his head and trim his over the top mustache every sunrise. It had been a routine that has never changed. Nappa was his second in command and a force to be reckoned with as his brute strength was far greater than most warriors, even those with Oni blood in their veins. He was an Elite even to their people and had proven himself to be an admiral soldier.

A few steps back from Nappa to the left of Vegeta, Radditz trailed along quietly by the edge of the road. Despite his third-class lineage, Radditz was a powerful fighter and fast with a blade. His knife skills were unparalleled to that of any human and some Onis and his ability as a medic had saved all their lives at least one time or another.

Vegeta watched Radditz trudge along the edge of the bushes with a blank face, dragging his pack carelessly behind him. Radditz was barely paying attention to where his feet were landing let alone listening for any threat or danger that may be following them. It was extremely out of place for Radditz. Usually Radditz was always keeping an open ear to the ground.

Was he thinking about her

It was no secret that Radditz had feelings for her. Oh he tried to hide them well, never once uttering a word about it to anyone but Vegeta knew. They all knew. All but Radditz, of course. The man was smitten. It disgusted yet evoked a small bit of pity from Vegeta. It had been Radditz that introduced them years ago. It was not Vegeta’s fault that it had been him, not Radditz, that she became involved with. It had been Vegeta to bed her, to touch her, to have her. Radditz had lost his chance and had kept silent about it all these years. Vegeta wondered if it was only Radditz’s sworn undying Saiyan oath and loyalty that kept him from speaking out. Although Vegeta and her relationship ended six years ago he wondered if Radditz still cared.

Vegeta himself turned solemn. Did HE still care? Was that where this trepidation came from? If he saw her, would all those feelings come back? Feelings that he sworn he burned with every letter she wrote to him. Vegeta shook his head mentally. That was a long time ago. Those emotions had died as age and battles changed him.

Behind him he could hear the endless prattle of Kakarrot, Radditz’s younger brother, as he conversed with their mission, Princess Chichi, the daughter of the human Ox King. Kakarrot and the young princess had been talking for hours and it was Vegeta’s pure resilience that kept him from snapping like the twigs beneath his feet and slamming the two young adults’ heads together. But despite how wonderful the feeling of their skulls being crushed within his palms would be, Prince Vegeta needed the Princess to stay unharmed and protected until he could establish the Ox King, and his kingdom of humans, as allies. If he was going to win this war against Freeza then he would have to play nice…at least until that Lizard’s head was mounted on his throne room wall.

“How well do you guys know this person? You all have never spoken of having friends outside of Vegeta-sia.” The young Princess asked a little too prudish for Vegeta’s liking. Kakarrot didn’t seem to recognize her superior tone and grinned widely at the teen.

“Oh Bulma? Man we’ve known her for, like, forever! We all use to be real close when we were in the same squad working for Freeza. Shoot, she and Prince Vegeta use to be— “Kakarrot was cut off quick by Vegeta’s quick furry.

“That’s enough Kakarrot! You two need to keep your mouths shut!” Vegeta pointed an angry finger at the two teens behind him. “How the hell are we to hear if we are being followed with you two loud mouths back there incessantly talking?!” Vegeta had enough. Yes, they were going to see Bulma but the Princess didn’t need to know any more than that. She was on a ‘need to know’ basis and Vegeta wanted to keep it that way. Bulma and any past that carried along with her was not up for discussion with the nosey Princess. Besides, it was not like he was thrilled about visiting Bulma in the first place nor did he need to be reminded of a past relationship that ended when she left them…left him.

“So shut your mouths or I’ll break your jaws!” Vegeta threatened through tight lips.

“The person we are going to see is a woman?” Chichi looked at Kakarrot quizzically as she whispered the question totally ignoring Vegeta’s words.

Vegeta rolled his eyes, didn’t the stupid girl know that Saiyans and most other races of Onis had exceptional hearing?

“Yeah Bulma is a master swordsman…Although from what I hear she doesn’t fight anymore …” Kakarrot whispered back and scratched his chin pondering. “…I think she gave up the sword since she left Freeza’s army. It’s a shame. She was one of the fastest swordsmen I’ve ever known. Shoot, she and our Lord Vegeta were almost equals. They were amazing together! Unstoppable! We never lost a fight with those two at each other side.”

“You said left Freeza’s army? That had to be like a decade ago or something! You still trust someone you haven’t seen in ages!?” Chichi blurted out loudly enough for everyone to stop in their tracks and turn to her. Her face flushed when she realized all eyes were on her and tried to hide her face behind her jet black bangs.

Kakarrot shrugged ignoring the looks from the others, “It’s only been six years but Bulma is...well…she’s Bulma. She’s a part of our team. She’ll help and join our cause so don’t worry about it Princess. Just think, having someone like Bulma on our side will be a good thing!” He smiled brightly and clamped a large hand over Chichi ‘s petite shoulder.

“We’re not going to ask for her to help us you idiot.” Vegeta snarled back a Kakarrot. “We’re going there to rest, see if we can buy some horses, restock on some supplies, and then we leave. Got it?” Vegeta scowled. “There will be no getting chummy or telling her anything that’s going on. If she wanted to run off and hide in some mountain shrine than let her be ignorant of the world.” Vegeta made sure he shot a glare at everyone. He wanted this to be quick and clean. In and out. If she will sell them horses and let them rest for the night, then great, perfect. If she wanted to be as bitter as he was about the whole thing and turn them away, then that was fine too. He’d rub this idea in Kakarrot’s face for the rest of his life. But they needed horses after their last battle with Freeza’s goons ended up killing their mounts and there was no way they could out run them on foot trying to drag a human along. They needed to get the Princess to Vegeta-sia and quick. Vegeta needed this alliance between the humans and Saiyans to happen if he had any hope of conquering Freeza’s mass army.

“Wait a second here!” Chichi halfway yelled causing everyone to stop walking a second time. “We’re going to see someone none of you seen in years, that’s hiding in this mountainous forest, and you expect her to help us? Just like that? How do you know she isn’t with Lord Freeza and out for that bounty on my head? Aren’t you all forgetting that I need to be protected!? Hello, I’m your key to my Father’s army and I should be top priority here! I shouldn’t be put in this type of predicament where you three leave my fate in the hands of a total stranger! ” She finished while stomping her foot and crossing her arms.

Vegeta could feel his blood boil. Ever since they picked up this ball of hormonal attitude his patience had been constantly tested but this was the last straw. He moved so fast that the Princess barely had a chance to blink before he had her lifted off the ground by the front of her kimono.

“Don’t ever question me and my decisions.” Vegeta hissed through clenched jaws. He gave her a good shake to emphasize he words before he leaned in close to her ear, ignoring her frightened fingers digging into his hand that was twisted into the front of her clothing.

“And don’t ever,” he growled so low and quietly none of the others could hear, “put Bulma’s name anywhere near Freeza’s or I will cut out your tongue and shove it so far down your throat you’ll choke on it.” He dropped her after his last words and she hit the ground full force on her hind end. Kakarrot rushed to help her up as Vegeta turned on his heels and continued walking. Call it an automatic response but no one disrespects Bulma in front of him. No one.

Several hours passed as the group traveled the rocky narrow path in silence. Even Kakarrot and the Princess’ conversation had sizzled out to an echoing stillness. Just when he was sure the Princess would start rambling again, Vegeta and the group crested over the top of the last steep incline to land on flat solid ground. Everyone seemed to be stunned as they witness the newly emerged lush clearing nestled within the dense woods. A small shrine sat in the middle of the plateau surrounded by the trees. There were few buildings placed in a semi-circle built neat and tidy and a waist high stone wall surrounded the sanctuary. The foliage and flowers were well kept and skillfully trimmed which created a beautiful backdrop to this story book shrine. To the side of the structures a slight distance off Vegeta spotted a small stable and pasture with three horses peacefully eating the plush grass.

So this was it. This was Bulma’s home. He remembered hearing about it years ago during their time together in Freeza’s service. Every so often she would reminisce about where she grew up as a young girl. The memory of her lithe body draped over his broad chest, her short, wild blue hair tickling his skin as her fingers traced ancient scriptures on his naked flesh instantly invaded his mind.

“It’s was a small place, full of love and laughter.” Bulma sighed as she wrote glyphs on Vegeta’s tanned skin. Vegeta humphed and stretched his arms back behind his head. His dark eyes tilted down to her naked body and he watched as her shoulders slumped when she sighed.

“It was beautiful Vegeta, a piece of paradise hidden in the mountains. We had spells to keep intruders away and it was all ours. Not a single care of the outside world. No wars to worry about or battles to rage. Just peace and tranquility. “She turned her head up to face him and her mesmerizing teal eyes locked onto his dark brooding stare.

“It sounds boring,” Vegeta groaned after a moment and Bulma playfully smacked his chest. “Only to a mangy Saiyan like you. Not all Onis thrive on war like your people do.” Vegeta laughed at Bulma’s haughty retort making Bulma’s body bounce enticingly on his chest from the movement.

“I suppose a half Oni like yourself would naturally think that way.” Bulma pretended to pout and Vegeta unlaced his finger from behind his head and reached up, cupping her head in his large hands. His fingers bore into her the wild short strands of her hair and tugged her playfully closer to his lips.

“But I’ve seen you Bulma. The real you. You have more Oni in you than you want to admit. You love the battle, the fight, the power and aggression. You love every second of it.”

Bulma grinned wickedly at his words and Vegeta answered with his own predatory smile before crushing her lips to his. The adrenaline of battle and blood rage had both their bodies fired up. He had taken her several times already but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Her body was hot against him and the sweat on their bodies made her slide deliciously easy across his skin. He flipped her underneath him, ignoring the rubble around them in the half destroyed village. She hissed and arched against him and he pinned her hands over her head as he took her feverishly. She moaned and gasped, her fingers digging into his hands as he pounded relentlessly into her slick heat. She was made for him. She was his. Only his. Forever his.

“Doesn’t look like anyone is home,” Kakarrot’s voice brought Vegeta tethered mind back to reality. He noticed Kakarrot had gone through the arched entrance and was walking around the small courtyard in front of the several buildings.

“Take a look around and see if you can find her. If not, put the tents up out here and set camp.” His men nodded and split up. Vegeta looked over at the unusually quiet Princess who had a contemplating look on her face.

“What?” He demanded causing Chichi to jump.

“It’s nothing…” Vegeta continued to glare at her, “…. it’s just, this place is so clean, so neat for just one person to be living here. It’s really beautiful.”

Vegeta had to concur with the Princess this one time. The craftsmanship of the buildings, the intricate wood work and screens. All the stone work and koi ponds. The beautiful gardens. Bulma had been right. It was a small piece of paradise.

“No sign of her,” it was the first time in hours Radditz had spoken.

“Nothing here my Lord,” Nappa came out the building to the left which looked like a prayer room. Kakarrot came jogging around the right building shaking his head. “There’s nothing back their but an amazing cherry blossom garden and the barn was empty.”

Vegeta cursed under his breath. Had he hoped she would be here? Was that hope he felt to see her again? No. It was just merely a setback. Instead of buying his supplies he would have to go without them. He would not steal the horses nor would he intrude into her home. They would just have to sleep outside and continue on with what they already had. He’d just have to put up with the Princess’ bitching for another night. Maybe he could suffocate her with a pillow…just until she went unconscious.

The sound of objects hitting the ground behind him and the violent splashing of water that went with it cut Vegeta’s train of thought and with unhuman speed he withdrew his katana from its sheath and defensively whirled around blade drawn for an attack. But despite how prepared he was for a fight (even though he had let his guard down talking to the Princess ) he was not ready for the sight of Bulma standing under the shrine’s entrance, the two buckets of water she had been carrying had been haphazardly dropped in her equal shock. Vegeta felt like he took a blow to the gut just by the sight of her which seemed to freeze him in place completely. Being left stunned he could do nothing more than look at her and as he did he felt something sharp snare his heart strings and pull wickedly hard.

She was more beautiful than ever, there was no denying it. She had always been beautiful but now she was even more womanly with more curves and angles. He eyed her body behind her kimono and even though it covered her modestly there was no denying her sex appeal that lay under those layers of fabric. Yes she was definitely a full blown woman now. He glanced up from the bottom hem of her clothing up to her big oversized azure blue eyes that were still wide in surprise and her cheeks had the perfect amount of flush to remind Vegeta ways he used to make her do that exact look like when he put his mouth on her... He had to quickly pull his mind out of that black hole and decided to take in the rest of her appearance before he was standing in front of everyone with a hard on.

Despite being out in the middle of nowhere on a mountain by herself she wore an expensive kimono even while doing manual labor. Her hair had become unbelievably long and she had it pulled back in a perfect bun with jade sticks holding those silky strands in place. She had been cute with short hair during their time together with Freeza. It had always been so soft and easy to run his fingers through but the long hair made her seem even more elegant. Vegeta wondered would her waterfall of hair be the same silky strings he use to enjoy stroking and petting? Vegeta kicked himself mentally while forcing himself to stand back straighter and re-sheath his sword.

“Bulma,” he said her name glibly, sneering at her with one lip curled as if her name left a bad taste in his mouth.

Bulma too straightened herself and delicately but firmly slide her hands over her kimono to wipe the water and wrinkles off.

“Prince Vegeta,” she snorted, “what do I owe this great honor after so many years?” she sounded just as snide as he had been despite her lady like etiquette and the bow.

Bulma glanced behind Vegeta a saw a young teenage girl looking completely confused. The girl was human, there was no guessing to that but why would Vegeta had a human companion? He hated the weak….especially humans. So why….? She would have to think quickly on that.

Whatever the reason Bulma was just happy they were there, standing in front of her after so many years. Anything to bring Vegeta back to her, to force him to come to her, was definitely worth listening to. She wish she could tell him how lonely she had been, how much she had missed him but it would be useless. He didn’t come to see her from his own free will, it had something to do with the girl. That much she could bet her life on.

“Bulma!”

Bulma’s eyes shot to the side to barely catch sight of a young man running at her with a large plastered on grin and open arms.

“Goku-chan!” Bulma beamed and braced for the massive hug. She was not disappointed when Kakarrot whisked her up into his large arms and began to spin her around. The hug was strong, would have probably hurt a full human but Bulma was a half breed so it did little more than take some of her breath away. She laughed joyfully, the notes ringing through the mountain air like a delicate tune and she returned his hug boldly. Finally when he stopped swinging her like a child Bulma framed his face with her delicate hands and smiled widely up at him.

“Goku you have grown up so much! You’re such a handsome young man! You look just like your father. Doesn’t he Radditz? Doesn’t he look like Bardock?” Bulma asked Radditz while keeping her eyes locked lovingly onto Goku. Radditz face turned an unnatural shade of red and he stammered a bit before he gave a weak ‘yes’ reply. Bulma didn’t seem to notice Radditz reaction and patted and pinched Goku’s cheeks.

“I can’t believe it’s been so long little brother, I missed you”, her eyes turned slightly sad and she embraced Kakarrot again holding him close. He was so young when he joined Freeza’s army that she instinctively took him under her wing. She gave him the nickname, Goku, because she thought it matched his personality better than “Kakarrot” and they became thick as thieves, hence why she thought of him as the brother she never had.

Bulma pulled away from the young man’s arms and bowed respectfully at Nappa. “General, you look well. It’s a pleasure as always to see you again. I hope we will have a chance of having another game of ‘Fate and Deceit’ before our visit is over.” Nappa grinned widely making his mustache move dramatically at the thought of going head to head with Bulma in the strategy board game. “I have been practicing my skills Samurai, I will not let you best me again.”

Bulma laughed, covering her mouth as she did so. “We shall see General, I hope you don’t lose your men as quickly as you did last time,” she giggled a bit more at the memory of Nappa’s shameful loss and then sobered up removing her hand from her face. “But please, do not call me a Samurai, General, I no longer pick up my blades….” there was a sad look on her face and she made sure not to look at Prince Vegeta. She was sure he would have some sort of callous reply or disgusted sneer at her words. Bulma had chosen a quiet life after Freeza in hopes of atonement of her sins. So instead of the ridicule she may receive from Vegeta she focused her gaze on the teenage girl traveling with the group.

“Goku-chan, who is your darling traveling partner?” her arm had been linked around one of Kakarrot’s massive arms and she gave him a short little playful tug to get him to talk.

“Oh her? That’s Prin-“

“Shut it Kakarrot!” Vegeta intervened quickly like a drill Sargent. “Who she is is none of your business. We have come looking for supplies and horses and that is all. Now, will you barter with us or not?” Vegeta nearly spit the last bit out as he crossed his arms with a sneer.

“I have no need for gold, Vegeta.” Bulma snorted and began to approach the Prince. “ But your men look tired, the girl’s silk kimono needs to be washed and stitched, and I’m sure you are all in need of a hot dinner and shower. Stay the night, amuse me with tales, let me play my board game and catch up, and I will restock as much of your supplies as I can.”

“I need your horses.”

“You can’t have them.”

“The girl can’t keep up.”

“That’s not my problem.”

Vegeta growled low in his throat but Bulma didn’t budge from where she planted herself a foot away from him. She was use to his Saiyan behavior and was not the least intimated by the future King. So she stood before him very prim and proper but her stubborn brain was anything but. Vegeta cursed and ran a rough hand through his short military cropped hair.

“It’s Freeza, we can’t keep her safe without at least one horse.” Vegeta hissed and Bulma grinned like she just won a bet. She nodded in understanding.

“Fine, one horse for the Princess,” Bulma winked at the girl and grinned at her stunned looked. She then turned gracefully on her feet and bowed respectfully to the young woman.

“Princess Chichi, daughter to the human ruler, The Ox King, sole heir to the Cloud Kingdom of Shunrue, and Ally to the Saiyan Kingdom of Vegeta-sia. I am honored. Please come inside. I will draw a bath for you, clean your clothes, and prepare you and the others a hot feast. Please rest easy here tonight and regain your strength. I’m sure this has been a difficult journey for you.” Bulma smiled softly and began to lead the Princess with graceful elegance into one of the buildings all the while ignoring the shocked and dumbfounded looks from the men left in the courtyard.