#she lost her office and has been working underground without charging people and trying to for

[artheresy]

I’ve had this fic idea for Honkai star rail that has progressively transformed into like full ocs being made and a full planet with a history and a social culture that came about as a result of a Stellaron and a complicated relationship between them and the IPC who have taken over their planet and refuse to deal with the Stellaron on the excuse that “after much research and simulation of what would come to pass for this planet after containing the Stellaron, we have realized it cannot be dealt with in a way that wouldn’t severely harm this planet and its people” which is a load of bull and a Doctor that aids the Astral Express who now has a whole history and motivations deeply tied to the Stellaron

And it’s just gotten so out of hand but I think I love it

It started as an excuse to portray my ideal form of whatever the fictional disease trope that Hanahaki is (aka with it representing repressed emotions not unrequited love and not requiring mutual love to heal and also being much more horrific and painful, not just coughing up planets, bc I think if we’re doing something like this it should be dialed all the way up to its potential) but it has morphed into connecting with other emotions as well not just love and just growing to completely overtake the body and now because of this there are numerous factions on the planets with their own theories of its origin as well as ways of handling it and just a lot spawned from it

And I have grown so attached to it without meaning to, it started as an excuse to fulfill this trope in the HSR universe but I love the characters and concept so much uelp help me

[agentxthirteen]

SAM WILSON aka The Falcon is a former U.S. Air Force pararescue jumper turned Avenger who was Steve Rogers’ right hand man. When Sam finds himself tangled in an international conflict that is more personal than he could have ever imagined, his only shot at overcoming this trial will be to team up with his least favorite 106-year-old: Bucky Barnes. Anthony Mackie, who returns as Sam/Falcon, welcomed the opportunity to dive deeper into the character. “I feel like with this series, we've been able to show you why Sam and Bucky are who they are and why they believe in what they believe,” he says. “You get to meet and get to know them as three-dimensional characters. You get to see them as people. It's funny because usually in a movie forum, you only have two hours to tell the beginning, middle and ending of a story. But we have six episodes to tell the entire scope of where these characters have been, how they feel about the world they're in, and where they're going once this series is over.”Upon returning from the Blip, Sam joins his sister Sarah in Louisiana in an effort to help save the family business. It’s complicated and he struggles. “Sam became a hero because of where he’s from—he saw that the world was not fair,” explains head writer Malcolm Spellman. “He ran off to save the world by joining the military. But he’s always worried if joining the military was really about running away from problems at home—they seemed so insurmountable, it'd be easier to save the world.”But it’s not the only thing on his mind. The future of the shield and the role Sam plays is not as clear as Steve Rogers anticipated. Says Spellman, “He truly believes that there’s an argument to be made that red, white and blue—stars and stripes—inherently represents oppression.”Adds Mackie, “Sam considers the shield a representation of the country that we live in. There's a lot of trepidation as far as how does a Black man represent a country that does not represent him?”

BUCKY BARNES was Steve Rogers’ best friend and a WWII veteran who was brainwashed by Hydra to become the Winter Soldier—a deadly and ruthless assassin who would stop at nothing to achieve his assigned mission. As revealed in the post-credit sequence of “Black Panther,” Bucky’s mind was healed by the Wakandans, and he later joins the Avengers to heroically battle and ultimately defeat Thanos. But now that Bucky has been thrust back into the real world, he must figure out how to become James Barnes again—all while facing the demons from his past. Sebastian Stan portrays the eternally troubled Bucky/Winter Soldier. “He is trying to embrace his new life—but he’s pretty lost and having an identity crisis again,” says Stan. “He's doing his best, finding his own path after Steve, after all those events. It feels like this is the first time he's finally free, so to speak, to look after himself. But it's not easy. “How does this character now function in the world?” continues Stan. “What's his life going back to Brooklyn? How is he meeting people? How is he interacting at coffee 5shops? Is he dating? Is he thinking about another career? Is he in therapy? There were all these questions about where we could take this character. There were a lot of fun and exciting things that came out of that exploration.”Co-executive producer Zoie Nagelhout adds that for the first time, Bucky is making a concerted effort to take charge of his life—and that includes making some difficult amends. “He is working to unburden himself from the trauma of being the Winter Soldier,” she says. “He believes that will get him closer to knowing what he wants.”Stan asserts, however, that Bucky’s past is there to stay. “Look, there's always going to be a darker side of this character, which I’ve always loved—it’s what makes him more interesting and complex,” he says. “I feel like that doesn’t go away. It's still there deep down. He's just learning how to deal with it a little bit better.”

JOHN WALKER is one of the highest-ranking soldiers in the U.S. military. He is patriotic, strong, good-intentioned, and every bit of him will be put to the test as he tries to team up with Sam and Bucky to protect the world from a new threat. Wyatt Russell was called on to portray the dedicated soldier. “We thought Wyatt was an interesting choice because a lot of his work before had him playing the slacker with long hair and a beard,” says executive producer Nate Moore. “But we found this unique energyin him that neither Sam Wilson nor Bucky Barnes has, and we felt that was important so that John Walker stood apart from these two characters.”But, says Russell, Walker’s journey is not without complication. “I gravitate towards characters who need to make difficult decisions,” he says. “His dichotomies are what attracted me to him, and I’ve been allowed the leeway to shape him a little because we’ve never met this character before.”

SHARON CARTER, a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who went on the run after breaking the Sokovia Accords, knows that if she stepped foot in the United States, she’d be arrested. But life underground has taken its toll on Sharon, who’s become somewhat jaded while fending for herself since the events of “Captain America: Civil War.” But heroism runs in her blood, and she finds herself tangled in Sam and Bucky’s global fight.Emily VanCamp, who returns to the MCU as Sharon Carter, says the character has changed since we last saw her. “Listen, when we find Sharon, she’s in a pretty dark place,” says VanCamp. “When we first see her, there’s a little bit of anger. She’s tougher, a little raw and rough around the edges—a totally different version of Sharon than what we’ve seen in the films. That’s really interesting to explore.”Adds Nagelhout, “We never really heard from Sharon after she put herself out there for Cap, Sam and Bucky, so we felt it was important to tell her story—to see what’s she’s been going through after throwing her career away to do what she felt was right. She’s that kind of person.”

ZEMO, the Sokovian special forces officer who targeted the Avengers after he lost his family in the battle of Sokovia, has been rotting in a German prison since we last saw him in “Captain America: Civil War.” But Zemo isabout to be reignited with a new ferocity. “I kind of fell in love with Zemo,” says director Kari Skogland. “He’s a man who’s struggling with this desire for revenge. But his story is a slippery slope of trying to make something right, but going about it all wrong. So, when we meet him, he’s paying for his crimes. He’s lost everything. He’s in a very sad place. I couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of sympathy for him.” DanielBrühl, whoreturns as Zemo, feels similarly about the character. “In ‘Civil War,’ I was fascinated by the fact that Zemo is a multi-layered villain,” he says. “He’s not just a sinister bad guy. But there was not that much time to explore different facets of him, so it was great to be given the opportunity to revisit this character.”

[misterewrites]

A Part of Something Bigger (Welcome to the Underground!)

Hello everyone! E here, hoping you are safe and sound and doing good! The new chapter of the Underground is here and I'm excited for this and the next chapter. I am so happy I finally get to reveal something I’ve had in my head since I first started creating the Underground! Man am I cheek E. oh puns, I’m terrible. 

:D

I hope you are all have a great week! Stay safe, wash your hands, take care of each other, get the vaccine if you can, push for companies to give it world wide all that jazz. Feel free to comment (I love feedback) tell your friends, reblog I appreciate it all!

If you’re new and curious what the heck I’m talking about, feel free to check out the whole story and have access to my other work right in the link below (cuz I’m 95% Tumblr has shadowbanned me) 

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/68094967 (first chapter)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/78927370 (latest chapter) 

Have a great week, E is out!

Summary:  Turns out Oliver is a part of the Choir, a secret organization that operates within the Underground. Something big is happening tonight and It's up to Oliver and his allies to ensure it does not. However, the bard has to figure out what's going on before anything else.

-----

Oliver had been many things in the 18 years of his begrudging existence: An orphan, a thief, a con-kid, hopelessly in love, a scout, fry cook that one week and an aspiring minstrel. Many masks and different roles to survive each new day.

The one he took a quiet pride in was being a member of the Choir, a secret organization whose goal was to keep the Underground free from malicious and devious intent.

Every society had their dark, treacherous shadows where evil did its business (Oliver assumed. He only really ever lived in the Underground but you know universal constants and such.) The Choir’s purpose was to ensure those plans never came to fruition.

Rather than being an openly known identity, the Choir was more a loose collection of independent agents operating under secrecy. The organization employed any and everyone who was willing to fight for the cause, each in their own way: Merchants passed coded information, tavernkeepers offered safe havens, those with some level of magical proficiency gathered to study abnormal phenomenon. Fighters fought, clerics healed with lords and ladies used their influence for the greater good.

Sometimes, as is the case now, one individual was too limited for what was required of the organization’s purpose. In these rare moments, agents were granted permission to request help, often leaving hidden messages and imagery for other wandering members to respond to.

That’s what brought Oliver here to this dark alley in the middle of the night: When he first arrived to the capital, he caught sight of the coded symbol asking for any Choir member to lend their skill set to a mission tonight. No details added but that was par for the course.

Terri was the first to recover, her slivers eyes wide with wonder “A soprano? No joke?!Flora, he’s like you!”

Terri was tall, taller than anyone else here. She wore a red vest with torn off sleeves, probably because her muscles were too thick to actually allow them to exist in the first place. Her long jet black hair was elegantly tied into braids with her dark blue leggings tucked into thick hiking boots.

Flora pursed her lips thoughtfully, irises of lavender giving Oliver a curious look “A fellow magic user? Interesting. Wizard?”

“Bard” Oliver corrected “You?”

“Druid.” Flora spoke before drifting into an uncomfortable silence. Oliver suspected she wasn’t impressed by his response.

Flora seemed unassuming but Oliver knew better than to be lured in by appearances: Long silvery hair with petals of green and yellow flowers scattered within. She wore a white blouse with splotches of brown dirt and a long green skirt. Her feet were bare and free to be soiled by the floor.

Terri rushed over to the petrified Tyrell, dragging him into a bone crunching hug “Tyrell here is a baritone like me!”

Tyrell, the youngest beside Oliver, shifted his brown eyes away from anyone’s gaze. He wore rather well kept clothes: A tunic of purple tucked under a leather vest, his leggings were dark gray that blended fairly well in the darkness. His footwear seemed a little too fancy to be workman’s shoes.

“Fighters” Oliver nodded in understanding “Always useful. And you mysterious stranger in the darkness?”

The cloaked figure had pulled back deeper into the shadows, red eyes gleaming in the shades of night. They were trying to hard to hide their appearance but Oliver caught sight of a smooth featureless bronze face. Metallic armor of a matching color and sheen covered the rest of their body, an automaton it seems.

“You may call me Sel. I’m a tenor.” the figure responded, their voice tinged with scratchy static.

“You are going very useful. Lockpicking?”

Sel shrugged casually “Among other less savory techniques. As per usual for tenors.”

Oliver nodded “Okay, fill me in.”

Flora took a step forward, pulling a letter out of her pocket as she did so “Are you aware of one Reiner Brambleoak?”

“Oh fucking hell” Oliver rubbed his eyes tiredly “Him again? What’s he planning this time: Gonna burn an orphanage? Or maybe sell moldy food to the poor? Wait, I know!” Oliver snapped his finger “He’s going to be a terrible piece of shit.”

“Right on the money!” Terri growled.

Sel let out a mechanical click “He is planning to tear down several homes in West Haven.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes “I thought it was illegal to tear down homes in that area?”

“Not if the owners signed them over.” Flora explained “Then he would have the authority to do whatever he wished with them.”

“Let me guess, he tricked them?”

Terri flexed her muscles angrily “His representatives would change languages and double talk when they spoke to the poor folks. Most hadn’t the slightest idea what was going on and the orc thugs his people brought didn’t exactly make them feel warm and safe.”

“So.” Oliver stretched his arms “He’s strong armed his way into property, going to evict helpless folks onto the street and probably fill them with his own thugs to get the rest of the neighborhood to fall in line.”

“Unless we stop him.” Sel spoke with righteous fury.

“Tonight.” Oliver chimed in “Throwing another party?”

“You are good.” Tyrell whistled.

Oliver gave a playful wink “Naturally. What’s the plan?”

Flora reached into her pack and handed Oliver a letter: it was written in such a fancy hand he swore he was getting a headache just looking at it.

“One for each of us.” Flora explained, distributing the rest to the others “A fellow Choir member secured these tonight’s mission.”

“Helpful. Alright here’s the plan….”

“Wait” Flora interrupted “Who said you are in charge bard?”

“Me” Oliver countered with a grin “Because I’ve been to these types of festivities. Have any of you?”

Flora opened her mouth then promptly closed it, irritation in her glance. Tyrell gave a sheepish but unhelpful smile, Sel remained silent while Terri gave a thoughtful scratch of her chin.

“Thought so.” Oliver tried to keep the smugness out of his voice “Look we just need to work together for tonight.”

“Agreed.” Flora spoke with a softness that did not match her glare.

Sel inched closer to the group “What is the plan Oliver?”

“Where’s the party? Merchant Ward? I assume he’s using his office to host it.”

“Correct” Sel confirmed “His office has been chosen as the venue. He claims to be throwing the party as some sort of fundraiser for a charity that is no doubt a front for his illegal operations.”

Terri huffed, crossing her arms furiously “Probably making some more deals to trick people out of their hard earn money.”

“Without a doubt” Oliver agreed “But without any hard proof, we’re not taking him down tonight. Our mission is to ensure those contracts he forced people to sign mysteriously disappear.”

“Will that actually stop him?” Tyrell frowned unhappily “What’s stop him from forging new ones? Or just bullying people again?”

“He can’t forge new ones” Oliver explained carefully “They’re a special type of document only found here in Haven’s Nest. You can only get them from city hall and they’re magically enchanted to be untamperable with. He’ll need to get the ones he has to city hall on open court day which I assume is soon.”

“Indeed. Tomorrow in fact.”

Oliver continued on “So since open court day is the only day any major changes are allowed to be introduced to the city, if we grab them he’ll have to wait a month for another chance of snatching up that land. He’ll no doubt try to bully the folks again but now that they know what he’s up to, hopefully they’ll won’t be as easily pressured and if a few rough looking folks who can take punches and give them back start hanging around the neighborhood when his goons come knocking again…”

“They’re gonna be less eager” Terri cracked her knuckles cheerfully, already savoring the feel of bruised skin and broken bones that would bless her hands.

Oliver caught Tyrell’s eyes “One problem at a time. If you look at the mountain, you’re going to get scared.”

Tyrell nodded timidly in agreement.

“So.” Sel’s voice crackled with curiosity “What is the plan bard?”

Oliver closed his eyes, mentally mapping out the Brambleoak bank: three stories of corrupted, immoral finance who preyed on the helpless and lost. He could still see the faded green hue and cracked paint of the building in his mind’s eye. The ground floor would no doubt be where the bulk of the party would be taking place: a large space with an elevated stage normally reserved for long winded speeches could easily repurposed for a band or some sort of entertainment. His guests would range from any and everyone with any amount of influence or wealth. The second floor were the offices of his lecherous employees while his office took up the entirety of the third floor.

“Alright” Oliver spoke after a moment “I have a good idea what to expect. We’re going to break up into two teams.”

Everyone stared him expectedly.

Oliver gestured to Terri and Tyrell “You two are going to hang out at the bar across the street: The Stinkeye. Charming place, ran by a former pirate captain. Sunday is sea shanty night I think."

“Whoa, wait a minute” Terri grumbled unhappily “I am not letting Flora go into that place without me! It’s enemy turf and I don’t feel comfortable with the idea."

Flora took Terri’s hand within her own “Agreed sweetie.”

“Look this isn’t exactly a fist loaded, knives out situation. Any sort of brawling inside will be dealt with swiftly and painfully. Brambleoak doesn’t like anything scaring away the prey and causing a scene inside won’t accomplish anything. Outside, however.”

Terri’s eyes knowingly sparkled, Tyrell just looked dumbfounded.

Oliver gestured with his hand, muttering a phrase under his breath as magic formed around his hand in a golden light. A small image appeared in his palm: A heavily scarred elf with ashy blonde hair, one eye a brilliant forest green the other dull and cloudy. He wore an elegant officer’s uniform, dark green with various medals pinned to his chest with a long flowing red cape that trailed behind.

Oliver opened mouth to speak but Terri’s low snarl beat him to the punch.

“Lea Foot.”

“Acquaintance I guess?””

Flora nodded, gently squeezing Terri’s hand to get her to calm down “Lea has been a constant thorn in our sides. I believe he suspects we are a part of some greater organization. He has never seen us but he sends his underlings to bully us.”

“So I don’t need to explain his whole mercenaries for hire deal. Been exclusive to Brambleoak for a while now.”

“Can I punch him?” Terri murmured darkly.

“Yes, can she?” Flora chimed in, unable to keep the plead out of her voice.

Oliver shook his head “Maybe but we’ll see. He’s gotta show up at some point but I doubt he’ll be there right at the start. Likes to push old people around, probably eat a child or two before ‘working.’ Your job is to keep him distracted at all costs. He’s a sick man that likes to watch a good fight and the longer he’s out there, the better chance we’ll have.”

Sel tilted their head quizzically “Why is it important to keep him outside?”

“Basically” Oliver cracked his fingers “He’s very perceptive and the person most likely to catch our plan in action. His crew is made up of a nobodies with a perchance for cruelty and a thirst for violence but Lea is an old hand. Keeping himself outside is the best chance for success and if you guys accidentally get too close and managed to stray a hit his way…”

Terri chuckled manically the idea. Tyrell just looked sick.

“Meanwhile Flora, Sel and I will be inside. We’ll be looking for a chance to get Sel into the stairway so he can break into Brambleoak’s office. Without any sort of information, there’s no point to flesh out a full plan but we’ll make it up as we go. It’s a giant party of people who think they’re special. Shouldn’t be too hard to cause some drama and distractions.”

Flora said silent for a moment before speaking up “It’s not a lot to work with but admittedly better than anything I would’ve come up with.”

“Agreed.” Sel added “Without proper intel, it would be pointless to attempt to formulate any sort of long term plan. This works best to our strengths. Wait and create an opportunity,”

“That’s on us.” Oliver cut in “Your job is to get in and out. Preferably without being seen but who knows what will happen.”

The group, previously lost and anxious, glowed with renew sense of purpose and determination: 10 minutes ago they had no plan and now they were ready to do what they signed up for.

“Get ready team” Oliver gestured about “We leave in five.”

Everyone broke away to prepare for the mission: Terri cracked every bone in her body, ready for any brawl she would start. Sel slunk back into the shadows and remained still among the darkness. Tyrell held leaned unevenly against the brick building nearby, trying to steady his breathing.

Flora, on the other hand, approached Oliver, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Oliver.”

“Flora.”

“I have a question for you.”

Oliver was confused “I’m not sure what about but go ahead.”

Flora pursed her lips “You were coming from West End, delivering a package to a Choir member out there correct?”

“Yeeeeees.” Oliver unsure where this was going “The old man. Lady Rozalin said it was the upmost importance.”

Flora bit her cheek nervously “Before you left, did you see him?”

His stomach turned cold as he remembered how uneasy he felt the day he left with Archie and Abigail, the chill that ran down his spine “No, why?”

“We haven’t been able to contact him. He is not responding to our wizards long range message spells. We’re…..worried.”

Oliver could feel his skin crawl with anxiety, his pulse raced as a horrible realization dawned on him.

“He’s missing.” Oliver spoke what Flora did not.

She nodded in response “As a high ranking member, he is important to our cause and since you were the last person to see him, the higher ups were wondering if anything suspicious happened the last day you spoke with him.”

Oliver remembered it clearly: The free money, rushing them out the door, his ‘tiredness.’ There was no such thing as free money in his mentor’s eyes and Roland was never known for pushing a guest out of his house or being tired in the middle of the day. He was attempting to get them to leave to prevent something from happening.

“He was acting weird.” Oliver admitted “At the time I found it strange but he gave me little room to argue. Now I’m wishing I had.”

Flora’s face was indifferent but Oliver could hear the sincerity in her voice “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this. If you need a moment…”

“No” Oliver cut her off quickly “I’m good. We have a mission to do and we need to focus on that now. Afterwards we can talk about finding out what happened to the old man.”

Flora gave a simple nod before wandering over to Terri’s side, lightly kissing her cheek with affection.

Oliver took a deep calming breath: There was no point to let his mind wander, to worry about things out of his control. Even if he wanted to do something, he was needed here and now. Besides the Choir would investigate Roland’s disappearance and there were agents far more experienced than he about.

He would leave it up to them. For the moment he needed to balance out the universe and root out the evil that laid in the shadows.

[starsescape]

Audrey isn’t here.. Jill remember the girl she had promised to find. Audrey was the missing member of the uptown teens who had saved Jill from an alleyway after she had been overwhelmed by the infected. The two teens, Megan and Ellie, were waiting in their apartment with Rachel who Jill had call to come and look after them while she would search for Audrey. Maybe she didn’t make it this far after all. Now on top of her search for Audrey Jill made the decision to retrieve Abraham’s inventory from the Apple Inn Hotel. She was getting sidetracked even more, but the chance of getting her hands on useful merchandise was too good to pass up. I could buy something off him before I leave from here to get the rest.

[New side mission has been added to Jill’s diary.]

[Abraham’s suitcase contains drugs and healing items.]

Reaching top of the stairs Jill took the first step on the upper walkway. It creak underneath her weight, but the board held. Great.. She had hoped that the renovation of the walkway had been done during the summer, but the work had clearly been postponed for one reason or the other and now it would be postponed indefinitely. The walkway was old, but as long as Jill was careful and didn’t rush it she should be fine. She look at the shelves that ran along the wall, each one filled with the files of decade old cases, and then gaze down to the main floor of the library. Jenny.. She saw the officer with short blonde hair step out of the private reading room. Their uniform look formal, but two buttons at the top were left open to show cleavage. The girl they had been with didn’t come out, undoubtedly still resting and putting their clothes on after their session.

Their eyes met and Jill felt the unease when Jenny’s lips turn into a smirk. It display unsated hunger. Neither said a thing and Jill look away first. She didn’t wish to imagine what they thought of her with the way they look at her, especially not right after she had seen Jenny using her position as an officer for her own gain.

Moving further on the walkway Jill saw that near the end of it, just before where it went over the private reading room underneath, a table was set with two officers leaning over it and focused on making plans. First she smile brightly as she recognized one of them, but then it turn dim. Jill approach them and call out “Hello..” As she stop.

The senior officer, a man with a buzz cut hair, raise his head. “Jill!” His thoughtful expression turn to one of joy as he push himself off the table and rush to Jill with open arms before slowing down as he hesitate. His smile died down, but it linger there just like Jill’s had. “Jill, I’m sorry.. I..” He start to explain.

Just let it go! Jill couldn’t hold herself back anymore. Couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t happy to see him. She ran to him and hug him. After a second of shock she felt his arms wrap around her too. “Water under the bridge.” Jill’s arms close around him tighter as she forgive him. “It’s good to see you safe, Marvin.”

Marvin rest his head against hers and pat Jill on the back as they hug it out. “You too, Jill.” He was the one who ease their hold first and move back. “We should have listened to you.” Marvin show regret, the kind that would propably never go away, but he look relieved to know Jill didn’t hold it against him for not believing her and the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members back when they tried to warn them about the Umbrella without having any proof to back up their claims after the mansion incident. “But I promise I will listen to you now. Will you help us?” He motion towards the table with notes, maps and pens scattered on it. “We are trying to form a plan.”

The other officer had a short blonde hair, not much different from what Jenny had, but their eyes had hope and their smile was genuine. “Rita Phillips, from the patrol police.” She extend her hand to shook Jill’s. “Both I and officer Jenny Bailey work under Marvin’s command.. Though she hasn’t been with us hundred percent anymore.” They held back their tongue, but the message was clear that Jenny, who Jill had already seen, wasn’t with them.

Jill shook Rita’s hand and nod. “Nice to meet you.” She hadn’t met them before and judging by the way they carry themselves they were rather new to this job. Not a rookie, but still new. The type who would volunteer and act, but might freeze if the situation gets out of hand. “What do we have here?” Jill join them around the table to study the map of the police station and the notes the two had written on it. Next to the map was the list of the survivors. Jill pick it up.

Susan and Lena Pittman

Evelyn Cain

Juno Townsend (volunteer)

Ruth Fletcher  lost downstairs

Abraham Sanford

Tommy ?

Greta Huber

Moira Barnes

Katherine Warren (With the chief)

Jill didn’t ask about Ruth. She could imagine what had happened and guess where it had taken place. That bathroom stall... The one with the cum splattered walls and shredded clothes on the floor. How bad it had- Then Jill realized Marvin was talking to her.

“-we had to evacuate the downstairs.” Marvin explain with a heavy heart. “We lost one of the civilians when we pull back.” He pause and then point at Katherine’s name. “The mayor’s daughter, she is with the chief who wish to keep a close eye on her after we move here.”

Rita continue with a quiet voice. “There might be more we lost.” She sound unsure. “We got new arrivals right before the attack that followed the battle at the main street.” Her hands clench into fists. “I- I didn’t have time to list them. Everything happened so fast.” Rita took a breath and held it as she relax her shoulders before releasing it. “They might have made it to the basement.. Hid someplace safe or made it out.”

Jill nod, but didn’t say anything. She felt that it was best not to focus on what might or might not have happened to them since each thought spent on them weight more heavily on Marvin and Rita. “I met Juno on my way here.” Jill point at the west corridor of the first floor on the map. “She fixed and closed the safety shutters here.” She almost smirk remembering what they did afterwards in the dark room, but she held it back. “We part ways after that.. I belive she went to the press room to receive new orders.” Jill was happy to deliver the good news as she saw the others smile. “The west wing of the first floor should be safe now, but a few of the infected remain there.”

“Good to hear that she is safe.” Marvin smile and point at the press room on the map. “The officers in charge of rebuilding the defences of the first floor hold up there. Once they finish their task we have been ordered to launch an counter attack to clean up and retake the first floor.” He shook his head and his expression turn grim. Marvin look over the railing to see that Jenny was further away before he spoke again. “Our orders are to hold the station, but I don’t believe that is possible. We have lost too much already. We are trying to plan our escape.”

“Take a look at this.” Right after Marvin had finished Rita reveal the map of the uptown area. “The barricade on the main road near the front of the station isn’t the strongest.” Rita point it at the map and then let her finger slide along the main road that ran towards the suburbs instead of the way Jill had walk through to reach the station. “If we could clear or blow it up, we should be able to bring an escape vehicle to the front doors without the need for the civilians to walk such a long distance to the parking lot behind the station. We wouldn’t have to worry about running into the infected during a short walk if everything goes smoothly.” There was a pause, Rita was clearly making a guess. “The roads should be clear past the barricade and we should be able to find a safe place if we won’t drive out of the city.”

Marvin sigh. It imply that they had this talk before. “We have no idea if the roads are clear past that.” He look at Rita with a firm expression, but Marvin look proud of her for daring to speak her mind and bringing another option to the table. “We could drive in to an ambush or it might just be a dead end.” He took a breath and continue. “Not to mention that blowing up the barricade will alert every infected in the area along with the men Iron’s have ordered to make sure no one leaves the station. It is simply too dangerous. We should hold out here until we know more or bring the survivors either straight to the underground garage where the vehicles are or to the parking lot at the back to wait for pick up after we make sure we have a car or two to make our escape.”

Jill realize she was smiling. They were acting against a direct order to hold the station in favor of trying to make it out. We still need to scout and clear the route if possible before we bring the people out.. Secure an escape vehicle. There was a lot that need to be done. Too much to do with the time I have. Jill knew what she carry inside of her.

“Are you with us, Jill?” Rita ask what Marvin didn’t need to.

[Vote for what Jill should do]

[marvelthalia]

Hellenders Team Redesigns and backstories

Key:

Home Team (Bass Camp)

Team A (Team USA)

Team B (Team International)

Team C (Backup Crew)

Requiem (Artemis of Bana Mighdall) + Sojourner (Henrietta ‘Henri’ Jessup formerly ‘Hank’)

Artemis the amazon fallen from grace recently back from being the princess of Hell and from being dead meets Henri, Jax and Kyle in a graveyard in the most random way possible and somehow gets recruited to fight demons even though she’s actually in love with the demon General Belyllioth (and also married to the demon Prince Dalkriig-Hath but she hates his guts so that doesn’t count). She’s been Wonder Woman, she’s FRIENDS with Wonder Woman, as different as they are, Diana is her sister and she descended onto hell just to save her. She’s 25 but she spent 10 years in a demon dimension so she grew up quick.

Henri wanted to be a police officer but fell short, one tree as become a rent-a-cop security guard for Freson Corp who she hates. She stops a murder in a graveyard across the street form her post but gets fired anyways and Artemis manages to get her a new gig with the Hellenders and starts training her in the ways of the Amazons. The Hellenders are her second chance to be a hero so she takes it seriously but she holds on to her sense of justice that made her want to be a hero in the first place, she also comes to realise her place was never in the police force. She’s also 25 and an out of town New Yorker, she’s not the best trained but she learns quick.

Sureshot (Jackson ‘Jax’ Edwards) + Deadfall (Kyle Adams)

Sureshot is the field team leader of the whole team when they’re together but mostly just Team A (aka Team USA) who operate mostly in America, sometimes they go a bit North of the border. He’s a 27 year old government super soldier program washout which is where he got the power to control a weapon that can become any weapon he can imagine and his perfect aim. He washed out because of PTSD and anxiety so Gabriel has him on fear blocking drugs to make him an effective soldier in his war against demons.

Deadfall is a meta with the power to manipulate his own strength and the testosterone in others. He was recruited in a similar way to Artemis in that Jax came across him, they worked together to fight a demon and since he had no family ties or a steady job he joined up. He acts tough and is kinda misogynistic but the Hellenders were his first real family, he’ll be damned if anyone messes with that. He’s 30 making him older than Jax but he respects the hell out of the blonde (even though he doesn’t often show it). His weapon is an axe in an iron chain and he very smartly has iron chains on his legs so that if a horde of demons tries he grab him, he’s got a fighting chance.

Helter (Gwaine Woods) formerly Pellmell + Jotünn (Rurik ‘Rick’ Kiselev) formerly Snow Owl

Helter is a British Speedster from London. He was visiting Central City on his after uni trip when he got stuck in a speed force storm. When it became clear that God speed was killing speeders from the storm, he went underground and Gabriel picked him up and offered him some protection until the situation blew over in exchange for joining the team. He misses his family back home and he’s bored out of his mind half the time being a 22 year old speedster but his world travelling at least keeps things interesting.

Jötunn is the leader of Team B and since Helter is the baby of the group hand he’s one of the older ones (32) he took the kid under his wing. It’s kind of ironic he and Helter became such fast friends when cold is a speeders greatest weakness. He’s Russian and used to be in the FSS (the new KGB) before he defected. His skills in intelligence gathering make him very useful in trying to spot demons and demon hotspots. Since everyone on his team is European they all like to make fun of the Americans together. He’s a meta with thermokinetic cryokinesis and heat energy absorbtion powers.

Gabriel (Nathanial Greene) formerly Nathanial

Gabriel as he’s known to basically everyone at this point is the son of a Preacher. He’s the leader and founder of the Hellenders, he’s dedicated his life to wiping demons off the face of the earth and sees himself as an avenging angel type hence the code name Gabriel. He’s Ex CIA, Ex FBI, Ex anything really. Every government agency has wanted his help with the demons they suddenly had to acknowledge existed after people like Etrigan, Wonder Woman and Zatanna became common knowledge but mostly they just let him run his own operation because it means thhey can operate in foreign countries without causing an international incident.

Shock (Marcia Hargis) formerly Shock Treatment + Myst (Noriko Himura)

Shock is Gabriel’s right hand woman, bodyguard and most trusted adviser. She’s a meta with electrokinesis, energy absorption, electro-blasts, electrical energy manipulation and flight. She’s 29 and an ex-CIA agent, her father, Elijah Hargis, was also CIA which is where he met Gabriel and unfortunately where he lost his life.

Myst is the team’s trainer and sometimes mission co-ordinator. She’s a Japanese-American 25 year old lesbian recruited out of the Police Academy before she even graduated after she stopped a demon using only her knowledge of Japanese protection wards and her trainee firearm.

Signal Ray (Almir Babić) + Pitch (Santo De Rose) formerly Catapult

Signal Ray is a Bosnian telepath.

Pitch is an Italian Footballer (Soccor) who got into a major accident that ended his career on the pitch but kickstarted (lol) his career in demon hunting with his cybernetic limbs. He’s a 27 year old adrenaline junkie whose main source of fun just got plugged, what better way to get that adrenaline flowing then to fight demons?

Corrode (Levi ‘Chase’ Chase)

Chase is a meta who suddenly developed the power to erode anything. Unfortunately he can’t control it and after an incident with his wife, Joy Chase, they split up and he was recruited onto the Hellenders. He is now the leader of the C team and in charge of keeping Warhammer in line. Team C goes anywhere and everywhere they’re needed from remote islands and villages with demon problems to big cities, they also back up other teams if they come across a particularly big demon presence.

Warhammer (Owen Knight) + Spiral/Rewind

Warhammer was one of the first to join the Hellenders but the reasons he’s been relegated to the C list crew and is not a leader is because he’s hard to keep in line, no one likes him and he’s fanatical, even for Gabriel. He carries a big... war hammer and he’s got heightened strength and durability.

Spiral/Rewind is a meta that can generate Cyclones

General Belyllioth

The demon that Artemis happens to be in love with, the general to Dalkriig-Hath (one of the 13 princes of Hell) and leader of the Hell rebellion.

Left to right: Artemis’ leg, ???, Spiral/Rewind, Corrode, Sureshot, Deadfall, Shock Treatment (above), Warhammer

[dndwithsuperbestfriends]

SESSION 10

This will mostly have illustrations by me because Larkspurs player wasn’t involved because her side quest was a day ahead of us.

Now that Doorune is dead, we continue through the evil underground lair and explore a bit - we find a hatch that leads into the lake, some supply rooms with rotting foods, and a ladder that leads to a sewer grate of a street in Laketowns shipyard district. We keep this in mind for when we’ll have to leave later.

So after going through most of Monroe’s evil unground lair, we come to the secret room in the back that seems to be his evil underground office. He isn’t there, there's just a bunch of treasure and a mahogany desk. 

After the incident with the exploding the desk, Leswen, Erindur and Rocks stay in the hallway while Frank and Belladonna investigate the room.

While Belladonna looks around the treasure for Monroe’s shard, while Frank tries to figure out the desk. Turns our the desk is some kind of puzzle with mechanisms to unlock the drawers. He takes time to figure out; in the drawers there is nothing, except the top one has an unopened letter. 

He opens the letter, and inside there is only a calligraphed phrase;

W A S T E D 

“Knowledge is power.”

Suddenly, we hear clicks from the hallway walls and a bunch of explosions - it turns out the desk was a trigger to set off the self-destruct of the underground dungeon. Water begins rushing in through the collapsing walls.

It was a trap. Monroe knew the party was coming.

The party @#$%-ing books it. When we get to the hallway with the escape ladder, the water is at waist level. Frank grabs Belladonna and Erindur grabs Rocks because they are hobbits and too short for this water (also, Rock’s can’t swim. This will become a running gag) Frank swims no problem, but Leswen is swept under the water so he swims back for her and takes her to the ladder after dropping off Belladonna. He attempts to do the same with Erindur.

Attempts.

“NO ONE PICKS UP A DWARF.” Erindur shouts - his mouths foams a bit as he activates his slayer rage ability so he can angrily just march through the water instead of swim, he’s tall enough that the water is juuust at his sternum. Rocks, who is clinging to his back, just hopes that he doesn’t just carelessly throw them onto the ladder. (Spoiler: He totally does.)

When the party gets through the sewer gate, they realize the explosions weren’t limited to the underground lair. It was going throughout the entire shipyard district.

Also, there’s the sound of warhorn. Frank recognizes it because he has proficiency in shadow lore - it’s an Orc warhorn.

The mood of the party entirely is panicky - there’s explosions, people screaming, fire, and orcs. However, something about this situations resonates deeply within Rocks in particular, to them, something about this is hauntingly familiar.

They feel themself getting pulled within themself, but they shake it off for now, refusing to give into this haunting deja vu for now. They ground themself to reality by making an angry statement to the party instead.

Rocks: Monroe didn’t have to be like other hobbits, he didn’t have to be like humans; he didn’t ever have to be anyone but himself! But he shouldn’t be like Smaug! 

(Rocks and Leswen were both around during Smaugs temper tantrum destruction of Laketown, so both of them remember it quite clearly)

There’s a huge explosion and the party whips their heads and realize with horror when they see a large rising column of smoke that it had come from the college! All of Leswen’s colleagues, including Grypho, and the shards we’ve been collecting, were all there.

Rocks panics for a minute, freaking out that their family and their inn might have been targeted by Monroe also since who knows who they are, but Erindur assures them that he doesn’t see any smoke coming from that district. 

The party run in the direction of the college, but some docks collapse and form a rift in front of them so to continue they have to find a way past this large gap. No one has the skill to just jump it because it’s that wide, so we have to climb to the bottom and swim across, and climb back up.

Problem: Rocks, despite being from Laketown, can’t @#$%ing swim. Once again, they have be carried; Frank does it this time. 

So the party climbs down the dock, swims across, and climbs up the other docks. Erindur has trouble doing this because of the heavy armour he’s wearing, but manages to make it. Once they are all up there, Leswen watches as other inhabiotants of Laketown who’ve been caught in the crossfire struggle to repeat that the party had just done and she is conflicted.

As a healer, it is her nature to help people in need, it is instinctual for her to stay and help these people; but she manages to rationalize that she will ultimately save more people by continuing with the party, because most people from Laketown don’t have a problem swimming. 

(IRL the entire table looks at me with a look that just screamed “Except for you. Your character is the only Laketownian who can’t swim.”)

So they continue sprinting, and although they make it mostly out of the Shipyard district into the residential District, the party is split by a bunch of rubble falling, separating Leswen and Belladonna. 

Belladonna attemptsd to climb the mountain of rubble, but get’s stuck at the top. She fails a strength check and mentally curses herself for never doing pull ups so she’s stuck in the ‘hanging in there’ position holding a disjointed pole. The frustraton gives her a temporary shadow point.

Leswen has good rolls and manages to climb up the mountain of rubble and plucks the angry hobbit from her hanging spot and safely brings them both down to the other side where Frank, Rocks and Erindur are waiting for them.

They party makes it out of the district, but right before they get to the college they come across a group of civilians being waylaid by orcs and hobgoblins. The party rolls initiative.

The same haunting familiarity rolls over Rocks again - and this time, they give in. They collapse, and hallucinate themselves falling.

As they are falling down a void, they hear a song around them, and above them they can see a giant eye. It constantly shifts colour, but is focused on them. The song is ancient and cacophonous, but the one thing Rocks can focus on about the song is a single phrase;

“The First Theme.”

Rocks has been shown the first of three parts of the First Song that created Middle Earth. Because of how much a pacifist coward merciful hero Rocks has been, the Valar have deemed them worthy of their secret class - Herald of the Valar. This makes Rocks the first of the party to unlock their secret class, and the only one so far to do so without any prior hints.

However, once the song ends, Rocks is thrown into a flashback

And it becomes clear why the Orc attack on Laketown was so familiar

They see a village burning down - their original home in the shire, it was being raided by Orcs. Bravely, a Ranger had been felled trying to protect the village. 

A young Rocks was being told by their family to run away to safety - and they do so. They a bunch of other hobbit children escape into the Old Forest - but they are all picked off until only Rocks remains.

They flash foreword to when they had stumbled into the Barrow-Downs - a haunted area outside of The Shire. There, they come face-to-face with  a Barrow-Wight. 

(I do not own this image)

It had been this encounter specifically that terrified them so badly, that when combined with the trauma they just went through, they lost colour of their hair and eyes, and also their memories prior. (Marie Antoinette Syndrome)

Their memories are hazy from here, and the next thing they remember is somehow ending up in Bree, where they are found and adopted by Daralis and Harva, who who traveled to Bree for trading.

Although Rocks in unable to remember their birth name, or the names and faces of their family and friends, one thing does stick; they are a Stoor-Hobbit.

They go into another vision; but this time they are naked and looking at their reflection. Except their reflection is their true self; brown-haired and blue-eyed.

Rocks and their reflection reach out to each other, and then touch hands.

THE VISION ENDS

In real time only like six seconds passes and a wave of radiant energy pulses from Rocks into the immediate area. Although unconscious, Rocks’ white hair suddenly turns brown and slightly curlier, with only a few white streaks left. 

Leswen rushes over and pulls Rocks into her lap, putting a wet cloth on their forehead. She does a medicine check and finds that Rocks seems to have been suffering from a fever for a while, and they were pulsing energy she identifies as coming from the Valar. 

The fever and the Valar energy disapates and Rocks wakes up - now, their right eye is blue instead of grey.

“I j u s t s a w g o d.” Is what Rocks basically manages to stagger out, being very enthralled and disoriented.

“Sure you did buddy.” Leswen comforts, believing them to be delusional “Your hair changed.”

“I just learned a new song...“ Rocks says, standing up and picking up their shortsword that they dropped - and they begin singing The First Theme.

The First Theme works similar to the Mass Heal spell - it charges for two rounds, and them begins healing allies. It also exudes radiant energy.

The rest of the party don’t really pay attention to their Warden because they are still fighting Orcs and Hob Goblins, however, now that there’s another healer this means Leswen can now fight as well. She takes out a few hob goblins that try to attack her and Rocks, because they really don’t like this song.

The rest of combat is uneventful, but the party is successful.

The sessions ends here, but not before the party stares wide-eyed at Rocks, who doesn’t know that their appearance just drastically changed.

[magmahurricane]

Hugo, the main antagonist of Carey’s story, finally gets his time to shine! Bio under cut.

Age: 45 Occupation: Head of Empire City’s criminal underground (Essentially a mob boss really)  Location: Empire City State Penitentiary 

Personality: Assertive, cunning, unforgiving, and violent - that is how most people would describe Hugo, and they’re not wrong. But Hugo didn’t reach the top by being a dumb, angry brute; he’s far more intelligent than he lets on, and when not giving orders or dealing with his enemies, he’s rather soft spoken. He actually dislikes using his voice and had to force himself out of his childhood shyness that plagued him well into his teens. Despite his best efforts, his emotions sometimes do get the better of him and lead him into making some rash decisions.  But make no mistake - Hugo is still a hardened criminal at the end of the day, and he has dealt out many violent ends to those who have crossed him. He’s no longer the pushover he was as a child. Skills: Hugo is a skilled leader, willing to take charge and do what needs to be done. He focuses on being efficient and practical, but is still very willing to take whatever measures necessary to put others in their place. His large size also grants him raw, brutal physical strength and while he moves slowly, he’s a dangerous opponent in a fight. He’s also skilled with firearms.

Backstory:

Raised by his harsh grandfather Heiko, Hugo was the middle child between his older brother, Yama, and their baby sister, Pema, Hugo has always found himself at the end of someone elses leash. His parents had tragically been murdered by a local loanshark shortly after Pema's birth. Despite his hardheadedness, Heiko wanted a future for his grandchildren, and moved the small family out west,  to try and find a better life in Empire City over in Northamer. Hugo was only 7 when the move was made; Pema had just turned 2 and Yama was a boy of 14. Together, they sought out to find a new beginning in the promising land of Empire City.

Unfortunately, the big city wasn't all glitz and glam as advertised. The small family found themselves living in the slums, barely eking by even when Heiko landed a factory job. Yama was put to work as a delivery boy for a nearby company, and Hugo was made to watch over and care for Pema. All three children had to grow up quickly, but the most affected was Yama, who had grown irate and bitter towards Heiko for moving the family in such a hurry. Hugo grew quiet over the years, keeping his head low to avoid the tempers of both his grandfather and older brother, all while caring for young Pema.

When Hugo turned 12, he was made to work with Yama, while an ailing Heiko grew unable to work and stayed home with Pema. Hugo was valued for his obedient, reliable nature - but Yama's other co-workers quickly took to bullying the boy for his quiet nature. While it stung, Hugo didn't think much of it; Yama, on the other hand, was infuriated at how his little brother was being treated. Things unfortunately came to a head on a fateful night when the son of the company's owner accompanied the boys on a job. The heir of the company quickly took to bullying Hugo, and went so far as to begin kicking and beating on the boy while Yama was dropping off the delivery. When Yama returned and found his brother bloodied up from the encounter, he quickly retaliated and broke the heir's jaw in a skirmish. After collecting their pay and heading home, Heiko punished and berated Yama for his actions; Yama's job was the only thing keeping food on the table, and his recklessness and refusal to keep his head low is exactly what got his parents killed. A fight was about to break out between the two when there was a knock at the door. Pema rushed to answer, and a group of armed men made their way inside, dragging the young girl by her hair as they approached the others.

It turned out that the delivery company Yama and Hugo had been working for was a front for one of Empire City's big mafia families, the Guōs, and the boy Yama beat - Wei Guō - was the son of the head of that mafia, Chen Guō. Despite the skirmish that had almost gone down, Heiko didn't hesitate to throw himself at the feet of the mobsters, begging that his grandchildren be spared for his grandson's foolish behavior, and offered to take whatever punishment had been intended for the boy. His pleas fell on deaf ears. Heiko, Yama, Pema and Hugo were all brutally beaten, and all but Hugo and Pema were executed. Hugo was told he owed the family a great debt for sparing him and his sister - a debt he would work tirelessly to pay off if he wanted to ensure his sister's safety.

Working for the family, Hugo did a lot of work, taking orders from Wei and his friends and often having to push himself to the brink of exhaustion, much to Wei's amusement, as well as helping at the Guō household by cooking and cleaning. Because Wei was often off with his friends and causing trouble, Hugo often found himself working quietly around Chen, who took a liking to the mastiff because of his devotion and competence, especially compared to his own son who he often criticized as a "manchild". Hugo continued to work for the Guō family for 7 years, spending whatever downtime he had playing games of chess with Chen or otherwise keeping the aging head of the family company while Wei continued to shirk his responsibilities and often abuse his power. Hugo had become known for his intimidating presence and his strength, but was ultimately defined by his loyalty to the family. Eventually, Chen's health began to deteriorate and he passed away, leaving Wei to take his place.

Working in the family under Wei's rule was difficult; Chen's teachings had fallen upon deaf ears, as all Wei cared about was making money, flaunting it, doing drugs and sleeping around. He had no understandings of how the system worked, how to maintain hold on their territory, or how to keep his men in line. Fortunately for the family, Hugo had been paying attention, and did as much damage control behind the scenes as he could without alerting Wei. This went on for 5 years.

Pema was killed at the age of 19, after being taken hostage along with some of Wei's other men -- Wei openly mocked his enemies in response, and was utterly unaffected when his inaction lead to the the hostages being killed. Wei's men had been growing increasingly frustrated with Wei's poor leadership, and few took issue when Hugo, enraged, called Wei out on having single-handedly destroyed the family.

Wei was unimpressed and unmoved, and, tired of hearing Hugo rant at him, ordered his men to put the mastiff down -- only to find no one would follow his orders. Hugo had been the one running things for years now, while Wei wasted his time partying and ignoring his duties. In the end, no one stood between Wei and Hugo, and when the latter caved in Wei's skull, no one complained. Hugo was now officially recognized as the head of the family, and he was going to make some changes.

Hugo’s rise to power saw the Guō family steadily rise up in the ranks, and within the first few years under his charge, they killed and took the territories of 3 rival families. By the time Hugo was 30, Empire City was left with only 3 other major crime families. Hugo managed to negotiate an agreement between the factions, assigning territories as well as helping buy off or blackmail some of the city’s more powerful politicians and officers.  After this, Hugo handed over control to the Guō family to a subordinate he’d been working closely with, and began “cleaning up” other aspects of the criminal underground, setting up rules and reigning in the previously chaotic and out-of-control rabble into something a little more structured, and far more profitable. He still maintained his status within the Guō family, and had the respect of the others.

Hugo knew he could never truly leave this life; he lost his parents to it, his grandfather, brother, and eventually his sister. He’d always felt the pull of this life since he was a boy, deep down knowing no matter where he went, or what he did, he’d always be pulled back in until the day he finally drowned in it. And so he came to the conclusion that if this is how it’s going to be, he’s going to take charge and maintain it until his dying breath. And so the next few years were spent doing just that - Hugo was recognized as the unofficial head of all the families, in charge of organized crime throughout the city. He had a penthouse within the city, a degree of immunity from the law, and power. The few who challenged Hugo rarely even made it past his men, and those who did met a violent end.

But just 6 years later something happened that would forever change Hugo’s life.

When a small, ragtag couple of nobodies looking to earn his favor picked up a 14yo orphaned girl who came from the Southern Baronies, nobody could have imagined the waves their actions would eventually send throughout Empire City. This little girl, a plucky pup named Carey Jess, realized the people who took her in were planning to betray her and present the fruits of their “labor” to some guy named “Hugo”, she got the drop on them instead and got away with the prize. This got a chuckle out of Hugo, and he continued to hear of this kids exploits, her skills as a pickpocket, her cunning and adventures. Eventually, he sent for her and got to meet her face to face.

Learning her story, and how much she embraced this life as a part of her, Hugo couldn’t help but slowly be endeared by the pup. He saw himself in her, and he took her in as a protege. 

Over the next 6 years, Hugo grew to love Carey as a daughter. She was quirky, optimistic, and eager to please and was, for Hugo, a bright light in a rather bleak world. But business was business,  and he couldn’t risk growing too soft. He was sure he wasn’t, but his men began to talk in whispers of how his adoration for Carey was clouding his judgement; Carey would be a  poor choice to replace him, she was unfit for the gig. Some even believed she would betray Hugo given the chance.

When Carey had turned 20, Hugo decided it was time to put her to the test, to put an end to all the doubts and accusations abound. The target was Empire City’s biggest bank, a heist unlike any other. And Carey was on it. Hugo had gifted her a much-needed prosthetic as a sign of good faith.  ... Faith that may have been misplaced. The heist was a calamity, with Carey at the center of it all. The last Hugo saw of her was the spaniel running away from the scene as the cops came and apprehended him, his immunity out the window for making such a brash move. 

Now Hugo sits in prison, waiting for the day when he can exact his revenge on Carey...

[sosu-morgue]

well if your adding AoT at some point, how would levi react to hearing he has a long lost illegitimate child (and they joined the survey core, having no idea he was their dad)?

Ooooo~I changed the ask a little. I couldn’t figure how to introduce the kid without neither Levi or the kid knowing, so I melded it to the kid wanting to speak to Levi and reveal this information.

This is my first attempt at like a short scenario scene, so I hope it’s okay. I’ve never written Levi before, but knowing his sensitivity to his own mother’s death and father’s absence... I feel like he would be a lot more forgiving than normal.It’s such an incredibly personal situation to be in.

I’m not sure how it turned out, I’ve not written in a while... So it’s probably not my best! :x

I hope you still like it! (｡◕‿‿◕｡)

Gender neutral - Blank name - Scenario

Levi learns about his illegitimate child from before his days with the Scouts...

They were there on an expedition watching him from afar. Frozen in place reconsidering their choices up to this point. Were it still up to them than they would have backed down already.

It was paralyzing to be so close to him.

What were they supposed to say? Just walk up to him and say; “Hey, I’m your kid! You got with my mom years ago, she told me about you before she passed away. So I decided the only way to meet you is survive until I was old enough to enlist, train for three years, join the Scout Regiment, and finally get posted somewhere with you so I can unload years of repressed angst against an absentee father.”

He had no idea what was coming for him and this young cadet, scared and anxious, was not doing it alone.

They had confided in someone else, someone that their absent father had known and trusted. Another prominent figure with the Scouts they had already met; someone who listened...

...

He was checking the common room for left over filth. The cadets had been cleaning the base for hours and still- tsk.

Unsurprised, Levi continued up the stairs, through the hallway and towards the officer’s rooms. He needed to get something done tonight even if not a single one of these cadets could clean worth a damn.

The old building creaked, every step sounding like it would break the old wooden boards. Dust floated through the air and distracted him from his goal. He had work to do, a lot of work to do.

Since that kid showed up in Trost manifesting a titan Levi hadn’t had a single moment to himself. He had to simultaneously keep watch on the kid in his charge and complete all his usual work he was responsible for.

It was an overwhelming amount of work to take on, but he was making a risky bet that it would be worth it. Who knows what would happen with this incredible development?

Levi dragged a finger down a wall sconce, the months and months of dirt rubbed right off. Either no one had cleaned through here yet, or they were being exceptionally lazy.

With a disapproving grunt, he was about to find the cadets upstairs meant to be cleaning this place. He had some heads to knock together.Before he had the chance another cadet approached him in the dusty hall.

He wasn’t particularly interested in why the cadet was there, but he was about to give them some hard work.

“Ah- uhh, Captain Ackerman, sir?” Their voice was so small if he wasn’t trying to listen, he might not have heard them.

His eyes flicked to the edge of his vision, seeing the cadet standing rigid. They looked positively terrified. Of what? He had seen cadets get intimidated meeting other officers in the Scouts... This cadet was shaking in their boots.

“What do you want, brat?” He didn’t even turn towards them. He didn’t much care what they wanted, it was always something trivial. There were so many more useful things to do with their time.

He brushed his fingers together, letting the dust fall from his hand.

The cadet shook, sweating, and breathing heavily. Their hands were shaking so badly they gripped them together behind their back just to keep still.

... Levi really couldn’t be bothered to stay here waiting for this cadet to get the balls to speak to him. “Out with it.” There was such a visibly profound effect his presence had on this cadet and he was tired of it.

With a stressed sigh, Levi pointed his thumb to the sconce. “If you’ve got nothing better to do than stand there and stare, I’ve got plenty of-”

“I need to speak with you privately, Captain!” There was no confidence in their words, yet they had the willpower to yell it at Levi. The surprise definitely caught his attention though he made no outward reaction to it.

A sudden change in their interaction caused Levi to take a closer look at the cadet in front of him.

They were quite short, black haired, fair skinned, with steely eyes. A small faint scar ran perpendicular to their jaw. Appearance wise, nothing unusual. Their expression though... the determination he could see was different.

Levi was an excellent judge of character. Having so many recruits in the Scouts be up for potentials in his squad meant he had to learn how to read people effectively. This cadet was scared of him, that much was clear, but despite their fear they stood there anyways desperately trying to contain it.

He wanted to know why they were so nervous around him. Had he met them before and forgot? A lot of people came through his life, most of them dead so it was unlikely. If for nothing else than his own curiosity, Levi entertained the cadet’s request.

“Second door on the right.” He didn’t need to clarify before the cadet turned on their heel and swung the door open. They held it open for Levi who glided passed with no more than a second glance.

The door clicked behind them, Levi leaning against his desk as he waited. Like before the cadet froze in place, eyes wide as they stared at the critical man in front of them.

“You wanted to talk, so talk.” Urging them on seemed to help.

The cadet closed their eyes to calm down, sucked in a deep breath, clenched their fists, opened their eyes, and strode up to Levi. Levi’s brow raised, this demeanor was almost a mock attempt at being confident or intimidating.

That wasn’t their intention, but it didn’t much matter.

As they stood face to face, the cadet pursing their lips into a fine line... He could see their face redden, eyes glistening; threatening to overcome their current clarity.

This was unusual. He had never had a cadet demand to speak to him private, march up to him, then withhold tears while staring him down.

The hell was this cadet doing?

“What-”

“My name is ____ Vogt.” Levi visibly flinched, “And my mother was Leah Vogt. She told me she knew you, back home, in the Underground...”

Now it was Levi’s turn to be frozen in place. He didn’t even twitch, unable to find anything appropriate to say or do. He wanted to know more, thankfully he didn’t have to ask.

The cadet was so insecure about their decision that they struggled not to panic. “She said you were a good man and if something should happen to her, that I should find you.”

Levi swallowed, his voice was so very quiet. “And?” Yet still he sounded so intimidating.

“She died a few years ago...” The cadet squared their shoulders and Levi felt like he was in for something. Good or bad, this cadet was about to let him have it... And he wasn’t sure what to think about that.

“I was little when she passed, but she told me that you’re...” They glossed over the word, it was clearly too hard to even say it. “I did what she said, I came to find you. I survived the Underground alone for years, I made it out, I trained as a cadet for three years, and now I’m here to tell you that-”

“You’re my kid.” He really didn’t need a play by play. He knew Leah and he knows how babies are made. No reason to prolong this.

They were having a hard time processing this, struggling to find out what Levi was thinking.

His eyes fell to the floor, his breath measured carefully. He needed to think and he wasn’t given the time to do so. This kid, his kid, needed his answer now. There was no time to spend on his alone.

He felt his body constricting, a pain in him he didn’t quite understand. What was this supposed to be? Some kind of sick joke that now; now of all times, he had to deal with this.

What would he do? What could he do? He knew the woman this cadet spoke of, that much wasn’t a lie... but were they really his?

“How do I know you’re my kid?” His suspicions raised, trying to find some way to clear his path forward. Unfortunately, it didn’t help make anything easier.

The cadet grinned incredulously. “My mother was blonde with green eyes. She was tall and soft spoken... There was no other man I ever saw with my mother. How many people do you see that look like us?”

Levi conceded that detail. This cadet... Shit. They looked like him. “I haven’t anyways. I don’t know a lot of people on the surface, but everyone I’ve seen so far...” They shrugged, “Except for Mikasa, but she’s an Ackerman too.”

He pushed up from the desk and stared at the cadet dead in the eyes. There was this powerful sense of dread as he allowed himself to consider what their life was life...

Surviving the Underground was... Levi knew everything he needed to know.

“I thought you knew...” They started, their tone much more forgiving. “She never said you knew, but she never said you didn’t. I thought she was trying to go easy on you. You know, like making excuses for someone you used to care about?”

Levi didn’t respond. His head started spinning as he thought more about the ramifications.

“I came here intending on chewing you out, getting all in your face...” A sound from their throat somewhere between a laugh and a sob forced him to pay attention. “When I got here all I could think about was avoiding you. Just... stay out of the way, pretend it never happened, and move on... But I spoke to someone else and they told me, if it’s true that you’d want to know. Said you’re a... good man. Like she used to tell me.”

He nodded, “Who?”

“Hanji.” The cadet half smiled.

Levi scoffed, “Of course...”

He pushed himself off the desk, uncrossed his arms, and stood up straight. For once he had absolutely no idea what the best course of action was.

Should he act like the father figure he wanted in his life? What example did he have; Kenny? Levi resisted a sneer. No, no. He had to be better.Should he just give them a fatherly hug, advice, and go forward? Was that too forward?

He struggled to find out what he should do now, what he should say. This internal conflict was written all over him too, his stoic filter had been effectively shattered.

He never had intentions of having kids, having a family; anything domestic really. He’s Humanity’s Strongest Soldier and he doesn’t go home to a family, he just goes home to regain that famous strength and go right back out there.

What strength did he need to hone to apologize for not being there? For not being a father to a kid he never knew existed? He knew it wasn’t his fault for never knowing, but hindsight told him so many things he didn’t know what to believe. If he had gone back to see Leah would she have told him then and would his life be any different than it is now?What would have changed? Did this kid, his child, live like he did? The very thought was unbearable.

It was like nothing was real, somehow reality of this kid’s situation just wasn’t setting in. He knew he couldn’t just leave it there and act like it was a lie.They knew Leah, a... close friend from his life in the Underground. The timeline was right, the age was right, the looks?

Levi closely studied the look of this cadet in front of him... They looked like her, despite having the telltale Ackerman features.

How could he have done something differently to spare them the life he had?

If there’s one thing his service in the Scout Regiment taught him was to not try to control everything. Only do what he could right now.

So he offered the very faintest of smiles, something he was not known for, and gestured to the door.

“Let’s talk... over tea?” He actively tried to make himself seem more welcoming. “Black tea?” The olive branch he offered was not ignored.

With an appreciative smile, they agreed. “I’ve never had it.”

[madartiste]

Deadly Fortune, Book 1, Chapters 1-5

So I started reading the only English translation I could find of the DMC4 “Deadly Fortune” novels to mine them for good character info.  I have no idea if anyone else will be interested, but I’ll post the notes I’m taking here.  Mostly this is just a retelling of the game, but there are scenes that aren’t shown and some interesting context/internal monologue things to be found.   I skipped the first chapter because it was just Dante and Trish being cryptic, and I didn’t notice anything interesting.  I’ll post more as I work my way through the novels.

The chapters are referred to as “stages.”  Stuff in bold are things I found particularly interesting.  Everything is under the cut because I’m a wordy fool and I didn’t want to drown anyone’s dashboard.

EDIT: Forgot the friggin link to where I found the translation: https://originaldmc.github.io/DivinityStatue/Downloads.html

Stage 02 (Pregame)

Kyrie visits Nero (he doesn't live with her).  She sometimes brings little gifts to the knights in the barracks.

Nero doesn't know if his arm is poisoned or possessed

Kyrie is one year older, treats Nero like a kid when something bad happens

Kyrie hasn't sung in front of a big crowd before (though she has sung in church)

Attendance at the Festival of the Blade isn't mandatory, so Nero finds an excuse not to go every year -- except this one since Kyrie asks him if he's going and she's performing

Nero's arm was injured one month prior to the game.  The demons were in the 'forests of the suburbs.'  (Later he says it's Mitis forest, though when he describes getting to the scene he doesn't actually go that far?)  Only three knights were sent because the ones that show up near the city are usually weak, but this time there were a lot of them.  Nero isn't considered a 'team player,' and he thinks that he is about as far from being a hero as you can get, so he isn't given tasks like that. 

Nero is given tasks that require him to work alone and thinks that even the order has secrets he wants to keep.  His job is to deal with humans who've been possessed by demons that the Order thinks can't be saved.  He is expected to kill them without a trace (OMG!).  Basically, the Order doesn't want the people to lose faith in them if a devout follower is possessed by a demon.  The people are told that Sparda will protect them, and if they knew the truth it would look bad for the Order. Nero says he isn't happy about killing people, but if no one else will do it, he will, since it's very difficult to save someone who's possessed.  So Nero is basically a hit man jeeeeeeeeeeeez.

Another reason Nero is shunned is that he likes using guns.  Being the 'Order of the Sword,' they place a huge emphasis on swords.  Nero doesn't care about that -- if it kills demons, why not use it? -- and since there are no gunsmiths, he built Blue Rose himself.  (He talks a lot about the gun a lot and why he chose a revolver too.  Kid knows his guns, though he says he's not a 'serious gun expert.')

The 'dean of the Orphanage' where Nero was raised is an old lady named Sister Xista.  (Nero comments that he knows she loves the orphans she works with.)

Kyrie was out in the forest with the orphans on an outing.  Ah!  She had come back from Mitis forest and was in the city when they got attacked by (30!) scarecrows.  Nero runs along the rooftops to get there (and is really casual about it like a normal person could just vault up there and run).

The three knights are Josh (who dies -- poor Josh), Sagan, and Tonio (who seems to be in charge?  He's also old fashioned, uncomfortable around Nero, and also 'obsessed with honor.').

Apparently Red Queen is so suped up that if Nero uses it too close to people he could accidentally burn them.

Nero likes that Kyrie is the type of person who would protect other people at the risk of herself but also kinda hates it since she could get hurt.

There's a very interesting passage where Nero thinks about how many of the knights want to become famous and are very into the legend of Sparda, but Nero feels they should be focusing more on the 'good heart of his struggle to protect humanity' part of the story.  He also feels they should be less mad at him for jumping into the fight and stealing their thunder and instead comfort Kyrie and the children who were nearly killed.

An Assault pops in through a 'magic array' right behind Kyrie as she's trying to tend to Josh's wound.  This is where the "Kyrie, run!" memory from when Nero blacks out in Agnus' lab comes in. Josh tries to defend her, but gets slashed up.  His blood actually spatters on Kyrie's face, who is too stunned to react.  Nero revvs Red Queen all the way up and jumps at the demon, can't block an attack which is how his arm gets hurt.  He burns out the Exceed system so he can't really protect himself.  Sagan and Tonio jump in to help while Josh gets Kyrie and the kids away.  The demon chases them and injures a kid named Kelly and kills Josh.  Nero finally takes it out with his gun.

One of the kids is named Gili.

The Order tries to hide the incident, but since a bunch of kids were involved, it's a bit hard.  Josh was an orphan (like Nero), and all of the other adults were forbidden from talking about it.  The whole thing seems to piss Nero of since Josh died and Kyrie was injured. He decides to try to get stronger, and apparently Sagan and Tonio have the same idea since they start training a lot.

Nero refers to a building called the 'Sword House' which used to be the Order's HQ until the 'new Faculty HQ' was built.  Credo's office is still in the Sword House, and Nero tries to avoid making too much noise on the creaky stairs.  Hahaha! Credo asks Nero "How are you so slow?"  Credo's got a new mission for Nero -- Nero refers to it as 'dirty work.'.

There's an 'Investigation Bureau' for the Order.

Credo wants the mission dealt with quietly since today is a festival day.  He DOES very seriously ask if Nero is okay to fight. Which Nero sarcastically replies "Will someone else do it if I say no?"  

Red Queen is out at the 'technical bureau' for repairs because it has a lot of special parts.  Credo gives Nero one of the Caliburn swords (the Durandal is the officers' sword type).  He also tells Nero not to use his gun because it'll make noise and draw attention.  Nero notices that Credo is out of sorts.  He's apparently pretty upset about Nero being injured, Josh being killed, and all of it being covered up.

There's some guy named Kars (or Karls?  The translation keeps changing his name) who Nero asked to buy that cute necklace for Kyrie.  Nero is nice and apologetic for keeping the guy waiting, which throws Kars off a bit.

The Devil Bringer hurts as well as glows when there's a demon around.

Nero beats up a bunch of Scarecrows and heads back to go listen to Kyrie sing.  That's literally the only reason he's going since he doesn't actually have to be there at the ceremony.

Okay, so Fortuna Castle is where Sparda supposedly lived when he was lord.  It's used as an Art Gallery these days, and citizens are free to come and go as they like.  The 'technical bureau' room (the underground lab) isn't known to most people, though, and their purpose is to build weapons to fight demons.

Agnus loves research, teaching, and Sanctus apparently.  He also talks to Yamato.  It doesn't talk back, but he's mainly complaining to it about not being able to fix the damn thing.  He found Yamato a year ago on the outskirts of Fortuna. Even though the sword is only mentioned a few times in ancient books, Angus recognized it right away.  In the translation Devil Arms are referred to as Magic Swords -- which might be how the Order thinks of them?  In any case, they lost track of Sparda's swords after he left 2000 years ago.  

Apparently you can repair Devil Arms.  Some repair themselves overtime, other kinds can be fixed if you have the right type of material.  Yamato is neither of those.  Agnus thinks if Yamato was made from a Devil, then this makes sense -- BUT if that was the case it should've lost all its power when it was broken.  Instead, Yamato still has lots of power.  He calls the sword 'unpleasant' after yelling at it.  Heh.

Gloria shows up with a guy named Greg.  Agnus hates Gloria and is apparently a misogynist.  As if we need another reason to dislike him.  He doesn't trust her and also thinks it's distasteful for women to flaunt their stuff as a 'weapon.'  Also Gloria clearly likes harassing him because he's such an uptight jerk.

The Order has never accepted 'foreigners' into its ranks before (hence some of Agnus' distrust).  There's a line about the church paying attention to 'the birthplace and family' of its members -- which is interesting.  I wonder if that's part of the reason some of the knights are weird about Nero?  Because no one knows who his family is…

Gloria told them she was a treasure hunter and that's how she found the Devil Sword Sparda.  Agnus thinks the sword is basically a holy relic since it was Sparda's actual sword.  She caused quite a stir when she showed up and asked to speak to Sanctus (the knight who met her thought she was his mistress!).

Gloria also brought along the Devil Arms that were used to power the smaller Hell Gates (lol, Trish just swiped all of Dante's stuff!).  The real Hell Gate can only be opened with a complete Yamato.

Stage 03 (Start of the game)

Nero bought his headphones from Kars.

Nero thinks the preaching is bullshit.  It was Kyrie and Credo and their parents that showed him love and warmth, not some 'sinless' god.  He thinks it's weird that their parents were so kind to him, and that it was probably because he has 'silver' hair like Sparda is said to have.  There's an interesting line: "I don't have parents, so in their hearts I might be someone who has a relationship with Sparda."

He feels they were good people, if blind and naive, and seems angry they were killed by demons.  It happened before he was a knight, and he doesn't know the circumstances.  There's a reference to them investigating the ruins in Mitis Forest when they were killed?  But that's why he doesn't believe in Sparda -- because why would god let good people like that die at the hands of demons? He also says that he could understand if it was someone like him (!) but not people who were devout, kind believers.

Very Vergil line from Nero: "So, I don't believe in God, I only believe in power."

He also decided to stick around to protect Kyrie, presumably because no god was going to do it.

The necklace Nero bought for Kyrie isn't very expensive.  He wanted to thank her for taking care of him and congratulate her on getting to be the soloist at the ceremony.

"The Buddhism of the Pope on the stage continues."  That line cracked me up.  I assume it just means that Sanctus kept going with his sermon.

Dante shoots Sanctus, everyone panics.  Nero doesn't worry about Kyrie dropping her gift since he can just buy her another one if she wants.

Nero's surprised by how fast Dante wrecks the knights since they're trained to fight demons.  He mentions that 'many demons have human forms.'  He didn't even stop to think before drop kicking Dante.  He just wanted to save Kyrie.

When they end up on top of the statue of Sparda, Nero realizes that Dante is way stronger than he is even though Nero is far stronger than a normal person.

There's some surprise from Nero when Dante doesn't care that Credo and Kyrie escape, and he wonders if the 'murderer' has some kind of conscience after all.  But he also doesn't care.  Dante is clearly amused by this whole thing.

Nero's got an 'auto-loader' for Blue Rose because he has to load two types of ammo.

Nero doesn't use his right arm at first because he doesn't know when reinforcements will show up and doesn't want to have to explain it to them.

Dante doesn't seem to know what to make of Nero's arm at first?  He asks if there is 'titanium inside.'  Which is weird.  Not sure if that's a translation thing or not.

Nero's right hand might actually be stronger than Dante.  When Dante goes to staff him and Nero catches Rebellion, Dante can't quite pull away (though there's no indication of how hard he was trying).

Dante says "You too?" when Nero goes to throw the statue's sword at him, and Nero is confused.  Dante also says "No, you don't have the smell of garbage," which I assume means he can tell that Nero isn't one of the artificial demons like the other knights.

Ooof.  Nero thinks that he's killed humans possessed by demons but he's never killed a living person before.  He can't really tell what Dante is, but he's gonna kill him.  There's a weird line about how 'some fierce part of my heart awakened' and that he 'must kill this man, just like he is my old enemy.'

Nero isn't thinking clearly when he nails Dante to the statue and is a bit freaked out by his own reaction.

Nero's reaction to Dante surviving being impaled: 'This is a very outrageous guy.'  Hah!

There's more made out of Dante saying that he and Nero are the same in the book.  Dante out says "I am not human, are you not the same?" and Nero replies "I am… human," but he hides his arm and is shaken up by the question.

Dante still yeets out through the ceiling, but he calls Nero "little devil" when he leaves.  It's kinda cute.

Nero's never met a demon that can understand human language.  Evidently it's mainly the powerful ones who can.  He worries that he might be a demon after all.  The reinforcements show up before he can go check out the dead Order knights to confirm that they're not human.  He wonders if he just imagined it, but knows that asking questions won't get him anything.

Switch to Dante POV.  Sparda told his boys stories when they were little, though it seems like he left when they were still too young to really grasp everything or to think it was weird that their father was a demon.  A lot of the stories of Sparda are considered just fairy tales and legends, so it's hard to piece together what he was really up to for those 2000 years before he met Eva.

The wording is strange, but Dante seems to realize that Vergil likely came to Fortuna to investigate legends of Sparda.  After thinking it over, he laughs off the thought that Nero could be Vergil's kid.

Trish is 'very concerned about punctuality' and Dante has to go to the castle to meet her.

Back to Nero:  He wants to go back to the dormitory and rest (what a mood), but Credo wants him to chase down Dante.  Nero actually thinks he's not sure he can do it.

There's someone named Claude who's Durandl Nero was using?  It just references "Claude's Durandl' being a very good sword.

Fortuna is surrounded by a solid wall, and there is only one exit by land. It's in the opposite direction of the Opera House and… the Fortuna duna? (Maybe the docks?)  The Order keeps an eye on the ships in the port, though, so Dante can't escape that way.

Awww, he thinks the necklace suits Kyrie.

Demons attack the courtyard outside of the Opera house.  Demons in Fortuna aren't rare, but having so many is.  Also Nero has never seen them in the center of the city before in his 'few years as a knight.'   Nero wonders if Dante is responsible.  The plan is to take the citizens to HQ to keep them safe.  (I get the feeling that the layout of the island is not so spread out as it is in the game.  Either that or headquarters is actually a mistranslation.)

Nero mentally gushes about how great Kyrie is, that she'd even protect someone who treated her poorly.  The boy is totally smitten.  More very Vergil type thoughts: 'compassion without power can't change anything.'  He decides he will be strong so that Kyrie's compassion isn't wasted. (Awww).

Nero deliberately breaks the archway to keep the demons from getting to the people.  He ends up having to take the long way to get to HQ because the road is blocked

Stage 04 (Sanctus' resurrection and Berial)

'The room on the uppermost corner of the Magic Swords Corps' is Sanctus' bedroom.  I'm assuming this is in the HQ building since this scene analogous to the one in the game where Sanctus is resurrected in the 'Ascension Chamber.'

Hahaha!  Sanctus refers to Dante as an "awful guy."  Okay, he apparently knew that Dante might come after him, but didn't expect him to drop into the middle of a big ceremony.  He's also annoyed that he was killed in front of all the believers.

Agnus and Credo clearly don't like each other.  Credo deliberately says some things to piss him off and Agnus absolutely takes the bait.

There's some strange wording, but my interpretation is:  Credo partly sent Nero after Dante to make the kid look good.  He knows that Nero isn't respected by the Order, but Credo thinks Nero is very strong.  There's a comment about the Ascension Ceremony -- which Credo is convinced Nero could survive despite the low success rate (it says only 10 people survived, but that doesn't seem right).  Evidently Credo wants to help Nero get in everyone's good graces to prepare him for the ceremony (Credo!  Wut r u doin'?!)

Also Credo doesn't think there's any point in reasoning with Agnus.  He really doesn't like him.  Sanctus has to be the adult.  He has some good skills in that, having to get all the different personalities in the Order to work with each other.

Agnus is a giant Sanctus fanboy.  He's also easily excitable, which both Sanctus and Credo comment on.

Back to Nero:  Lots o' demons in the city.  He's very confused.  Certain places are easier to open a Hell Gate than others.  The translation is confusing here, saying it's easy to open a 'cave' in the area around 'Fodu.'  I'm assuming that it means you can open portals to the Underworld easily on Fortuna?

Nero is pretty sure Rebellion is a powerful Devil Arm since he felt something in his Devil Bringer when he touched it.

Fortuna Castle was built up in the mountain because the people of Fortuna didn't want to destroy the environment.  They do a lot to try to preserve the state of the island as close to how it was when Sparda was there.  Nero thinks Sparda wouldn't care if they made their lives more convenient by modernizing things. (Pretty sure he's right.)

They refer to the big Hell Gate in the city as 'the monument.'  Nero is surprised to find one in the Ferrum Hills.

Nero can tell how strong a demon is by how much his Devil Bringer hurts.

Hahaha!  He thinks that Berial's sword is 'a little pitiful.'    There's actually a nice illustration of Nero facing down Berial.

Nero seems convinced that Dante is a demon when he hears Berial also speak in a human language.  There's a weird phrase: 'a lovely type of chat in the demonic race.'  I'm not sure what that means.

Nero doesn't like heat.  He's also annoyed (?) that Berial just ignored him because he's a human.  He also calls Berial old.  Also, oh snap, he quickly realizes that Berial is no threat to him, though at first he's a little worried.  Nero thinks Berial is weaksauce compared to fighting with Dante.  Berial also calls Nero "little devil."

Berial is surprised by Blue Rose.  He's never seen a gun before.  Nero's ticked that Berial has stronger fire than Red Queen.

Nero has been avoiding thinking about his arm too much, but fighting Berial makes him realize that his power is definitely like a demon's.  Berial demands to know if Nero is human or not, and Nero's response is basically "I'm a special case."  After Nero beats him up, Berial says he's sure that Nero is a devil, though Nero now denies it.

Berial gives him a weird look and says "Neither a demon nor a human being… that's it.  You are like him."  And then yeets into the Hell Gate because he knows he can't beat Nero without a refresh.

Nero apparently tries to destroy the Hell Gate but can't.  He decides to move on, and wonders if the 'him' Berial was talking about is the man in red -- Dante.

Stage 05 (Fortuna Castle and Bael)

Dante POV: He's running around the castle to find Trish.  She didn't tell him where to meet, only when.  He wonders if Sparda really lived in such a place because there are only normal human things lying around and not Devil Arms.

He pops by the library and grabs a book off the shelf (Nero in the game comments on Dante having been there), but can't read the language.  He feels like someone is watching him and calls them out.  It's Trish who didn't want to startle him because she looks different.  Dante feels the library suits Trish because 'she has a strong desire for knowledge.'  (Interesting.)  She doesn't actually show her Gloria disguise to him here.

Trish tells him where Yamato is.  Dante wants it back because it's a memento of both his father and brother.  There's a nice illustration of Dante and Trish.

They decide to deal with the Order before grabbing the sword since it's broken and they can't use it.  Dante decides to poke around the castle a bit more, though Trish correctly guesses he's looking for anything that might have belonged to his dad.

Back to Nero: It seems like Nero hasn't been up to Lamina Peak (It's also called the Holy Mountain) before.  He thinks the snow might be normal, but isn't sure.  Tourists are rare, but the Castle is a big draw.

So the complicated route to get to the castle might have been to make it hard for enemies to get there in the Middle Ages.  But he says the bridge is 2000 years old in the next sentence, so…  Not really the Middle Ages.

Nero is actually pleased the bridge gets broken because it gives him a shortcut he wouldn't have thought of otherwise.  Fights the Frosts, thinks they can't be the cause of the snow because they're not that kind of demon.

Nero is sure Gloria isn't from Fortuna, and he definitely notices the saucy clothing.  Fortuna ladies don't dress like that.  He mainly wants to know who she is.  He has no idea why his Devil Bringer is still hurting after the demons are defeated, and wonders if that means the woman is a demon.

He hides his Devil Bringer from her -- which is why he doesn't shake her hand.  She knows who he is, which means she's a knight, so he assumes that his arm is reacting to other demons nearby.

Gloria lists his nicknames: "'The bad bird to get along with', the arrogant atheist''

He's not surprised.

Ah, he turns away when she puts the knife away because he's being a bit polite and kinda doesn't want to get flashed.

Oh, he HAS been to the Castle, but he can't remember when.  It was at least 3 years ago, before he was a knight.  He doesn't like the place because of the 'damp air.'

He thinks maybe Dante came here to steal art (hah!). 

Nero can't completely read the book Dante was looking at either.  He knows enough to pick out that it's about demons, though, and he thinks that it might help him understand what Dante is after.

He's never seen the Bianco Angelos before, and figures it has to be a new weapon of the Order.  Nero seems to think the guy in the armor is just a jerk messing with him.

Nero isn't even slightly tempted by Bael's sexy ladies -- the translation uses the word 'goblins' for them.  Like Dante says in the game, Bael smells pretty bad.  Also Nero can barely understand what Bael is saying, his human is so garbled.  Bael also calls Nero "little devil" when he dies.

Link to the next part of the notes: https://madartiste.tumblr.com/post/186824600040/deadly-fortune-book-1-chapters-6-11

[sasuhinasno1fan]

A mess without you

I'm not hugely familiar with the Leakira au. I know of it and have seen pics that I've reblogged but never actually went and dived in. When I heard people were taking it over as a reboot, I was kinda turned off from it but any pictures I do see are very amazing. Let's just take as it is, a nice au for our boys. Also, Pana as Pidge's name is from a whole AU someone wrote. I just went with it. Leakira

Leandro breathed heavily as he quickly darted into an alleyway, pressing himself against the wall as the Garrison cars rushed past him, still following that hologram he sent in his place. Once he was sure they were gone, he let out a sigh of relief and allowed his legs to lose all strength and dump him on the floor. God, his older brother would be so disappointed in him, getting caught so easily by the Garrison. There’d been a time where he would have been able to lose them in no time at all, sending them in one direction as he went off to catch his next target but not anymore. He’d gotten very used to working with a partner, someone who’d be there at the last second if things started going south. Someone he could trust.

Someone who was missing.

Akira had saved his ass when a particular target was close to crushing his skull in. one second, he was staring up at the target, his arm dislocated and a cut on his forehead and the next Akira came screeching into his life on his motorcycle, subduing the target in a few short, and kinda sexy, moves. He brought Leandro back to his place where he patched him up. He promised he’d help Akira out if he ever needed it as thanks.

Turns out he needed help bringing down a drug ring known as the Galra. They had apparently messed with Akira’s brother, turning him into a guinea pig for their new drugs. Leandro agreed and that’s how they became a team. They were part of a larger one known as Altea, but the two of them, they were partners, could completely trust the other. It seemed natural that eventually their partnership started to mean something else. They’d just been hanging out in Akira’s room and Leandro kept staring at him and then just kissed him. he pulled away sure he messed everything up but Akira pulled him back and kissed him for even longer. They waited a few days before finally talking everything out, but they reached the same conclusion. They wanted to be together. No one else on the team seemed surprised when they didn’t hide their relationship and things just continued as they were. Except he got to kiss Akira whenever he wanted.

Akira, with his badly dyed black hair and the goggles he’d stolen from Leandro that sat on his head and their matching black and red/black and blue jackets. The way his eyes shined when it was just the two of them, the way Akira was more likely to get into trouble trying to save a cat then Leandro, just everything about him he couldn’t help but love.

But during a drug raid, they got separated. Things were actually looking bad and Akira shoved Leandro onto one of Altea’s transports before acting as a decoy on his bike. After 2 days of no word, Leandro started to panic. No one could get through to him as he went after Galra lackies trying to find out where Akira was. All he knew was that Akira hadn’t been caught but they still didn’t know where he was. Even tonight, with his team’s begging, he went and tried to find information from the Garrison’s systems. Which of course he didn’t find anything which then lead to him to getting caught.

Pulling out a pair of glasses, Leandro put them on, the holographic lens activating.

“Oh look, the stupid idiot is sending out an SOS.”

Leandro sighed. Pana, their resident hacker, was not happy when they found out what he was going to do. He didn’t know why calling them now would suddenly change that.

“Pana, you can either continue to yell at me over comms or you can get me out of here and do it in person.”

“Fine, I’m rerouting a line for a bus service to come get you. Be prepared for a whole lot of yelling when you get back!”

Not that he listened to any of it. While Pana stood over them reminding him again and again how stupid he was for trying to sneak into the Garrison, he was staring at the picture he’d brought up on the nearby holoscreen. It had been a picture Pana actually took of Akira and Leandro curled up on one of the couches together. Leandro’s hand was still curled into Akira’s hair as they slept, his hair out of its usual ponytail and missing his goggles, but he was curled up and content. He missed running his hands through Akira’s hair, pointing out the bad job he’d done once again on dying it. He loved Akira’s white hair but it stood out too much on jobs, hence the reason he dyed it. He remembered once when there was a whole month that the Galra were laying low because they had been able to get one of their main officers arrested and Akira let his hair grow out. The way the city lights looked on his white hair, Leandro feel even more in love.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Pana, come on, give it a rest.” Shiro came into the room and rested a hand on Leandro’s shoulder. “He knows it was a stupid idea but his boyfriend has also been missing for almost a month. Cut him some slack.”

“Fine.” Pana sighed. “I’m just saying, Akira will yell at him way worse when he gets back and find out what Lea got himself into.”

“We all know he will. Now Leandro, how about some target practise on a chain of Galra. There’s been word that they’re going to break off and create an even stronger Quintessence drug and I think we should at least stop that from happening.”

Leandro needed something to do before he got so wrapped up in his own head of worrying where Akira was.

There were few lackies protecting the higher officials at the bases so Leandro was in charge of taking them out with his sniper rifle while Shiro took care of downloading the information and destroying the stock. Purple lights from his prosthetic followed his arm as he pounded in the faces of anyone who tried stopping him. just ahead though, he saw a red light moving quickly, like it was part of some weapon someone was fighting with. The dark lighting wasn’t helping him figure it out. Then the light came shooting towards him. he dodged out of the way to see the light, which was a laser blade on a very familiar dagger, was lodged into the head of a lacky he missed who had been close to attacking him.

“Akira?”

From the shadows, Akira emerged. Shiro felt a huge relief at the sight of him. he looked a bit worse for wear, his clothes dirtier than usual and even his hair had whiter in it from it growing out and wasn’t even in its ponytail.

“Where have you been?”

Akira summoned his dagger back with it’s recall function and let Shiro pull him into a tight hug, which he returned.

“I got to the other side of the island but apparently that’s where Hagger is. I spent so long trying to avoid her, when’s she been sending out people to find us. I also met another rebel group. It took so long to finally get a way back here. Word in the underground was that this was your next target. I’m fine, don’t worry but what about Leandro?”

Of course, gone for a month but was more concerned about his boyfriend.

“A complete mess since you’ve been gone.”

“Is it true he broke into the Garrison?”

“To look for you, yeah.”

“I’m going to kill him, he’s such an idiot! What was he thinking?” Akira started to complain, though Shiro could tell he was really worried.

“Hey, destroy stock first then you can yell at him. He’s taking care of officials.”

With Akira’s help, they were able to set charges and get the info Pana needed before Shiro told Leandro to meet him at the rendezvous point. Akira was still muttering about what he was going to do to Leandro for doing something so stupid.  He found out a bit more about the other rebel group who were attacking the Galra, former members or family of members who wanted nothing to do with them. Shiro thought it was worth trying to work with them.

Leandro came down the stairs of a building he’d hopped to, the bag with his rifle on his back when he spotted Akira. He dropped it on the floor as he ran off to meet Akira.

“Akira!”

“Leandro!”

Akira ran to meet him in the middle, though it wasn’t to hug him. As soon as Leandro was close enough, Akira grabbed the closest body part and flipped Leandro over onto his back, staring down at him in anger mixed worry.

“What the hell were you thinking?! You snuck into the Garrison, the guys who are after our butts almost every day? For what? Have you lost your mind? What if something happened to you? It was hell enough not knowing if you were ok, were you seriously going to do that to me?” Akira screamed.

Still on his back, Leandro stared up at his boyfriend, the guy he trusted with his life, and couldn’t help but smile like an idiot.

“I missed you Aki.”

Even though Akira was still upset about what Leandro had done, he wouldn’t deny that it didn’t matter because he was finally back with the man he loved. He pulled Leandro up, and held tight. “I missed you too you big idiot.”

“Your hair grew out. Trying to tantalise me again with your pretty hair?”

“Maybe.”

The two pulled away enough to stare at each other, taking the other in. a whole month without the other was torture, pain and heartache. But they were together now and that’s all that mattered. Not able to wait a second more, Leandro kissed Akira, who squeezed him tighter, never wanting to let go.

“Hi, this romantic reunion is very sweet, but we do actually need to go.” Shiro called out.

“I’ve got my bike. Think they can deal without us for a few hours?” Akira said against Leandro’s lips.

“Fuck if they can’t. I’m letting you go for another few hours at least.” He replied before pulling him back into a deep kiss.

[kiruuuuu]

Bandit/Vigil oneshot in which Vigil recuperates and Bandit is detrimental? (Rating M, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of torture, ~3.9k words) - written for @blitznbandit as a Christmas present 💞💞 I didn’t mean for it to get this dark but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Best wishes and Merry Christmas! :)

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He returns fragmented. Having lost pieces along the way, parts of him damaged, he’s less than before. Less human, less capable, less trusting. A few chunks were beaten out of him, knocking others loose in the process and therefore he’s hesitant to ask for help in patching the holes, in case someone isn’t careful enough and makes it worse.

Though it doesn’t feel as if it could get any worse.

Visual representations of his state adorn him, discolouration of skin, tears, cuts, attempts at extracting the highly sought-after information through his outer shell though they didn’t manage to pull it out of his flesh. They tried, however. Most of it is unnatural, he supposes, frightful even, renders him fragile-looking when his mind has never been as stony as it is now. He won’t break, might splinter and chip in places, but he won’t shatter. He hasn’t so far. He’s not going to now.

Dokkaebi cries. She just stands before him and lets tear after tear roll over her cheeks, unsuccessfully trying to muffle her sobs and he’s lost, misplaced his script on what to do now, how to react, and there’s no teleprompter or anyone taking charge, so they stand there: Dokkaebi crying and him fighting one of the waves bringing blurriness and further detachment which have become so intimately familiar to him by now. The whole scene might as well be a video on a screen, despite the fact that the wet ground smells of grass and cool air surrounds him.

The scenery changes, someone pulls the slim woman away and another silhouette by his side gently leads him across a canvas of places, all of them unreal and not registering in his head though less shrill than the sterile, smelly white ones in which he spent … an undetermined amount of time. He doesn’t know which day it is.

Voices underwater pose questions his subconscious knows the answer to and therefore he’s able to keep up a semblance of normalcy while his thoughts repeat the endless litany of wanting to sleep. Wanting to go home. Wanting to feel safe again. Wanting to remember what it’s like to feel. At certain points, there’s absence of sound and it makes him itchy, raises his alertness without contributing to clearing his mind and thus leaves him skittish, so it’s no surprise than he flinches violently at a small touch. He’s up on his feet immediately, turned towards his threat who isn’t a threat at all, he knows this person, can conjure up their image in his head yet couldn’t tell who it is or from where he knows them. Relaxing is hard when he’s not sure of the identity of this person, but the guy in scrubs – it’s a doctor – no, it’s Doc – says his name, Gilles, and it could be someone or it could be no one.

His fight response has been triggered and so his system is painfully vigilant even when he’s suddenly sitting down again and he idly wonders whether he’ll ever feel like anyone at all again.

.

He’s a foreign body, bumbling uselessly and getting in people’s way while they, somehow, he has no idea how, go about their lives. Imitating them is impossible as simple interactions drain him to a worrying degree, so treating his own existence as an inevitable misfortune with which all of them are stuck seems to be the only alternative. If speaking wasn’t such a chore, he’d apologise the whole day. Keeping out of sight and turning himself invisible is his preferred course of action even if it means some people startle at him walking into their peripheral vision as if he was a ghost.

By now, he’s begun to sort experiences into boxes. Not being able to trust his own memory is at best unpleasant and at worst wholly disorienting and disturbing, so he endeavours to fill the gaps and shave off excess. Some of it undeniably happened as he’s carrying the proof on his body, even if he doesn’t recall a blowtorch, while other details are strikingly vivid yet make no sense. He was held underground, not in a forest and still, he feels thick, wet leaves caress his skin and branches snap under his sole. No, there were no windows nor any indication as to his location, the photos show him what he might’ve seen in a film once yet nothing he recognises. But he drowned. In the dry cellar, forbidden to wash himself, every drop sacred, he could’ve drowned. It certainly felt like it and the cruel irony of wanting to drink it all, the knowledge it won’t kill him didn’t make it better. He’s started exclusively taking baths. He doesn’t like the feel of water on his face.

Compartmentalising helps, albeit it’s a double-edged sword as it further alienates him from those who appear to need him most. The causality of it is puzzling as he’s fine by himself yet it’s others who seek him out nonetheless, require assurances and an affirmation that they’re doing all they can. They’re the ones needing a pat on the back but he unlearned it all, so all he earns is concern at his empty stares. He begins avoiding them, the only exception being Blackbeard – the American’s voice is unimpeded by his silence, penetrates the sound barrier erected in self-defence and fills his head with words, phrases, ideas which resonate with something forgotten inside him. Blackbeard is familiar and calming and no one would guess he’s talking to a husk with how animatedly he gestures and slowly, slowly, his utterances begin to develop meaning.

.

Vigil starts healing. It’s a multi-faceted process and accompanied by a significant amount of itching, both outside and inside. His senses return to him in a more conscious fashion than simply identifying potential dangers in his vicinity and his body’s ability to obey improves though it’s still held back by overpowering fatigue; at least there are no more dizzy spells or involuntary movements. Not as many anyway. The variety of injuries invite him to scratch, especially the blisters and the scabs, the freshly opened ones – usually a result of carelessness or a motion too extreme – send out white hot, pulsing signals impossible to ignore. He becomes intimately familiar with every visible piece of writing in Doc’s office as he reads it over and over and over again. Reading anything other than single words and simple sentences is too much.

His sleep is restless and the source of most of his frustration as the exhaustion turning him sluggish and numbing his limbs is omnipresent yet relief unattainable. Sometimes, he wants to scream and thrash, pound the mattress with his fists because it’s so unfair, he’s tired, it’s dark, why won’t it work, why won’t it work why won’t it work why won’t it work why won’t it work – furious, he feels pressure on his eyes and gets up, resists the urge to put his fist through something and walks until he’s light-headed, tries push-ups on his elbows, feels stitches and bandages pull on his skin. And even when darkness does envelop him, brilliant dreams ensure he wakes up sweat-soaked and gasping for air.

He dreams of him. And in a way it’s more terrifying than just re-living memories.

.

Before he – before it all happened, he caught the eye of a predator. Felt slitted pupils lazily glide over to him, unfocused and slow as he poses no threat, was unhurriedly yet thoroughly studied and classified as easy prey. To this day, he’s unsure what made him stand out, which of his eccentricities painted a large target on his back causing claws to bury themselves in his vulnerable torso. He was hunted down and slain for sport, he assumes, incapable of defending himself; only then the dangerous creature did develop an appetite after all. Devoured whole, Vigil cowered, obeyed, surrendered.

His memories convince him that he enjoyed it. Basked in the unexpected attention, revelled in a deluge of foreign sensations, released tension under experienced fingertips ghosting over him. Every single instance lasted at least an hour and he thought each the last one, anticipated being deprived of this… this frenzied feeding sooner rather than later, yet repetition tricked his mind into believing it’d become a habit. In a way, he wasn’t wrong: it was a regular occurrence, the intervals shrinking continuously until he couldn’t reasonably predict the next one anymore, merely waited for it to happen excitedly.

The anticipation has vanished completely now. It’s been replaced by a stoic dread he insistently denies and the pleasant memories are sullied by his dreams. He would prefer to limit his nightly terrors to the faceless monsters who – who did all this to him, who altered his very being, yet they’re not the ones holding him down, kicking and slapping, trying to force him to betray the very organisation which eventually came to his rescue. It’s not them. It’s him.

.

Training is hell, icy fire licking the insides of his lungs, inflamed muscles hindering his every move. He needs to, needs to catch up on all he missed after having spent too much time idling fruitlessly, hoping moronically for everything to sort itself out somehow, as if there was a spirit for broken minds who could mend them with a flick of its wrist. If such a thing exists, it must be very busy.

No one can help him but himself, especially not the woman he’s meant to trust and tell everything that happened. She’s trying to be comforting and soft but comes across as otherworldly, shapeless and inconsequential – time and time again she brings up topics Vigil feels are entirely irrelevant and meets his badly suppressed anger with pretentious understanding, advises inane exercises he refuses to do in his spare time and hovers just around the edge of actually reaching him. Blackbeard breaks through nonchalantly, acts as if nothing has changed while picking up bits and pieces, distractedly putting them back where they belong without mentioning it. Vigil much prefers his company.

In time, Dokkaebi finds it in herself to grow cold as well, shield herself and meet his downcast gaze and inaudible words with her usual boisterous behaviour, complaining about him taking too long with everything, eating, walking, healing, and her impatience and lack of compassion help him redefine himself as more than just a victim. He remains an operator, abilities tried and tested, and therefore expecting him to function as one is reasonable; he needs to pull himself together. So he trains. And keeps failing.

The whole atmosphere shifts as soon as he enters the room. Silently, he moves and manages to steal Vigil’s breath despite his casual demeanour, causes an adrenaline rush unlike any other he’s recently felt. He’s trapped, alone, for the first time sharing space with him on his own since he came back and it’s terrifying. Golden brown eyes petrify him, lock him into place and there’s no doubt he’s here for Vigil. Probably feels like he’s given him enough time to recuperate, now he’ll demand his share once more, sink his teeth deep and leave him behind bleeding. So far, he’s kept his distance, didn’t even grace his mark with a single glance. For what felt like weeks.

Vigil needs something to do, mind aflutter in panic, and despite every cell in his body urging him to escape, slip away and hope he won’t pursue, he decides to be proactive. To him, it feels like the first choice he’s made in a while. Lying down on the nearest bench panders to his persistent fatigue and yet it hinders him not at this moment for the heady rush of danger encompassing him counteracts his usual exhaustion. “Spot me”, he demands and wraps his fingers around the cool metal bar above him.

The hairs on the back of his neck rise proportionally to how near he is and when Bandit comes to a halt right behind him, he nearly trembles. They study each other motionlessly and for an eternity, Bandit looking down, Vigil looking up. “You’re too weak”, an accented voice informs him though hands contradict it, reach out, ready to support if necessary. Vigil averts his gaze and lifts the weight, brings it into the correct position and lets the familiar feel calm him – this, he knows how to do.

“I’m not”, he protests because he can and couldn’t tell when he last said no to anyone. Repetition and concentration both put his thoughts to rest and occupy him, render him complacent as he watches two pairs of hands rise and fall gently, one of them radiating volatile energy, threatening to turn on him any second, cover his eyes, punch his throat, hold his mouth and nose shut.

He’s scared.

And then something does go wrong, a sharp pain pierces his consciousness and reflective silver fills his vision; the bar came to a stop alarmingly close to his face, mere centimetres from possibly finishing what was started a while ago. His head wound still isn’t healed fully. Dumbly, he stares at it as if mere thought could make it vanish, then capable arms work to return the weight to its rightful place. And he tells him in a judging tone: “Don’t overexert yourself.” Before Vigil can even consider talking back, more words are tacked onto the presumptuous statement: “Start easy. You’re not used to it anymore.”

And this is when it tilts over. His rage is partially unfounded, Bandit has no control over his dreams, can’t influence what his dream self does yet is solely responsible for staying away all this time – his actions, or rather the lack thereof, cut deeper than Vigil was aware, fuelled an underlying self-consciousness and insecurity. He felt discarded, unworthy, and now that he’s in better physical shape Bandit seeks him out again? Hardly a coincidence. He must’ve enjoyed how submissive Vigil was, how responsive, but felt no urge to to accept the responsibility which comes with commitment. Where were you?, Vigil wants to spit in his face, Where were you when I needed you most? I’m no toy. I’m not at your mercy. I’m not to be abandoned like this.

His fury both causes accusations to bubble up in him and holds his tongue, a learned reflex to any extreme emotion. He’s long cut off the spikes in his moods, mellowed them out so no extremes happen, keeps it all safe and sound in the middle. Sitting up, he notices his hands shaking. He’s not afraid of him anymore, somehow knows Bandit will never go as far as his projection did repeatedly, not when he’s this passive, this passionless about him. All that time he always set aside seemed to have been a lie, a convenience. He was a fool to believe it to be more.

“I missed you.”

Resisting the impulse to spew I was right here is difficult but possible. Instead, he allows a question to see the light of day which has been eating away at him for a while. “Why me?” He’s long ceased to pose it in relation to tragedies, long accepted the fact he will never know the answer. Coincidences are free of judgement, his place of birth pure chance, his capture an unfortunate event – none of it specifically geared towards breaking his spirit by a higher power or the universe itself. However, this time it might yield an answer. He sincerely hopes it does, yet with every passing second in which Bandit mutely regards him with an unreadable expression, the probability decreases. “You can have anyone.”

“But I don’t want anyone.”

The message is clear though its origin nebulous. But why. Why me. Upset, confused and upset over his confusion, he attempts to flee the conversation, extract himself as he’s unsure how to face this man, how to deal with his own emotions. Getting past Bandit proves impossible though, the slim figure is an unsurmountable obstacle, soft eyes fixing him in place and a tentatively outstretched hand has him flinch first, then accept the touch of a palm on his elbow, travelling up until it comes into contact with his still discoloured jaw. Turning away is futile, fingers wrap around his own and then a body moulds itself around him despite his resistance. He’s suffocating, refuses to breathe in this wild scent of blood, sweat and hunger, realises too late he smells the same.

Bandit waits until his thrashing has subsided, patiently holds on as if he knew what he was doing. Eventually, exhaustion drives Vigil into the arms of his hunter and he relents at the cost of his sanity, dignity, sense of self-worth. Accepting warmth and human contact is surprisingly arduous but the pay-off staggering: he thaws, he melts, he dissolves under gentle hands, in a loose embrace, and its realness leaves him reeling. Logic tells him he possesses the same body heat, must feel nice to Bandit or else he would’ve withdrawn already, yet the idea of him feeling as good as Bandit does to him now is unimaginable. He needs more.

A quiet plea is met with hesitation at first, but when he emphasises it, Bandit nods. “Let’s go then”, he says, voice shaky.

.

Before even any fabric is shed, Vigil starts to struggle. His side is still sensitive, so he forcibly removes Bandit’s hand when it brushes over it, he doesn’t enjoy the feel of the tongue on his collarbone and pushes his head away, yanks at clothing to keep the German half off him. Though it’s thrilling and the low pulsing need permeating his being is the sharpest feeling he’s had for a while, he’s worried about showing his mutilated body, about evoking disgust instead of lust, about memories of sadistic grins and fire and needles and fists and water taking control of him. His subconscious fear manifests in the turning away of his head, in refusal to make eye contact, in jerks and light kicks and shoving.

“Do you want me to stop?”, Bandit asks and kisses the hand he caught as if it hadn’t tried to pull on his hair. No judgement in his inquiry, strangely enough. He would actually stop. There is no doubt.

A violent shudder seizes his body and he couldn’t tell whether it’s born from pleasure or dismay. The lips are ticklish and he doesn’t think he’d survive it if Bandit rejected him. “No.” He surprises himself with the response; the safer option would be to give up, not even allowing for the chance to harm himself further by ruining the one hopeful thing in his life at the moment, yet the drive to feel human again is too powerful.

So Bandit continues, undeterred by the resistance he faces and – it’s different to the times before, softer, more patient. At first it seems as if he, too, believes Vigil to be fragile and therefore takes certain precautions, isn’t as rough as he was previously, but the more time passes the more one undeniable truth crystallises and makes Vigil’s heart come alive: Bandit isn’t treating him like something delicate. He’s treating him like something precious.

His caresses don’t shy away from faded bruises or bandages, touches actively follow scarring unless Vigil displays discomfort, and though he’s careful, he’s far from tentative – repeatedly, he unintentionally causes stabs of pain hindering Vigil’s attempts to wholly give himself up and revel in the familiar affections. In response, Vigil lashes out on a small scale, bites a little too hard, scratches instead of stroking skin, and never once earns any form of protest. Bandit allows him to fight back mostly symbolically, something he was never able to do in the hands of his captors. He loses his inhibitions and wonders why it feels so good to inflict pain, ponders whether it’s linked to Bandit not paying him any attention while his mind was heavily impeded, when it hits him out of the blue.

A kiss to the top of his head makes him smile, stretches his lips all by itself. During a small break, he marvels at Bandit’s body. He even takes the initiative at some point and is rewarded with an almost enamoured gaze in return which drags something in his chest to the surface; something he was sure to have lost. They draw meaningless patterns on skin lazily, let their whims decide on what they do, and it’s peaceful.

Vigil feels like himself again. Not entirely, he hasn’t reverted back to his old self, that would be nothing short of a miracle, but his sense of self has returned – he is Chul Kyung Hwa, he is Vigil, he is part of the White Tigers and Rainbow and right now, he is here because he wants to be. And he will not let misfortune define him.

.

A careless remark, nothing more, Blackbeard’s usual dry humour showcased in a blunt comment and yet its utter lack of respect is scandalising and amusing enough for Vigil to laugh. Not a loud, full-bellied laugh which could hope to compete with the American’s, no, a quiet chuckle rather but an expression of entertainment nonetheless. They’re eating together and Vigil is picky, has traded parts of it with his teammate and others, approaching them first. Bending his mouth around pleasantries remains a feat he has yet to master but even so, it’s met with genuine friendliness and relief he generously overlooks.

Dokkaebi picks up on it immediately, abandoning her conversation to grace him with a meaningful smirk. “You just laughed”, she states triumphantly as if it was her own achievement.

Days ago, he wouldn’t have replied but he’s come to realise once more that he likes her, enjoys her company. Looking back, he feels bad about not reassuring her the day he returned, piling on to her already overwhelming grief. He admits: “I feel better.”

She nods; it must be glaringly obvious. “Must be contagious, even Dom smiled at me earlier.”

“Is that noteworthy?”

“He’s had it rough too.” His expression must display some of his disbelief for Dokkaebi explains herself: “He was with us the entire time we tried to find you, probably put in more hours than even Craig. And then, when you got rescued, you… I don’t know what you were on, I wasn’t there. But you were terrified of him – of them all, but him the most. I think it hurt him. Doc told him to stay away from you for a while, just in case.”

Dreams tightly intertwined with memories, forming an entirely unfair and inaccurate hybrid which painted Bandit in a much harsher light than he deserved. He never was a predator, Vigil never his prey, and while he was indeed devoured, it was preceded by awkward half-conversations and uncertain gestures; the time they spent together valuable to both of them. He’s been unjust.

“But he seems better now, and so do you. Maybe you should talk to him.”

“Yes”, Vigil agrees readily, startling her into silence. “Maybe I should.”

When Bandit and he finally make eye contact across the room after a lot of furtive glances, Vigil presents him with a tentative smile. And is not at all prepared for the wide one he’s granted in return.

[helenarlett-rex]

The Story of The Lady Liandra, or, When your D&D party is too stupid to live...

Years ago I started my great campaign. I felt it was a stroke of brilliance. It was a campaign in which I was the DM but no one knew I was the DM. I wrote every session and handed it off to a proxy DM to run while I posed as a player filling in the part of the party’s rogue. But what the other players never realized was that my character was actually a succubus. The Lady Liandra. I spent my time fighting along side the party as we dealt with a false wizard running a underground drug ring and later an evil Rakshasa. And never once did I do anything evil. I truly was their friend and ally. But I was always watching them. Always paying close attention to their actions. I was waiting. Waiting for them to commit the three sins of thought, word,and deed. Which for this game, meant saying something, thinking something, and doing something against their alignments. And eventually enough of them had committed the three sins that that poor little succubus just couldn’t sit back and watch anymore. They were gift wrapping their souls and handing them to her. What was she supposed to do? She was a lawful character. Lawful evil, but still lawful. And according to the laws a succubus had every right to their souls once they committed the three sins. And that was when I relieved myself and took over as the true DM, while my proxy DM stepped down and joined the party as his favorite NPC.

This led to a grand adventure where the party traveled to hell and broke into a law office to retrieve the contracts for their souls. But there was a slight problem with this. I had a way for them to get their souls back the proper way, but they didn’t take it. Instead, my party of mostly lawful good heroes, who lost their souls by doing things that were far from lawful good, broke into a law office, slaughtered an army of filing clerks, and stole the contracts for their souls which Liandra had acquired through entirely legitimate means.

The poor succubus didn’t know what to do. These were her friends. She had fought and bled alongside them. They had saved towns and villages together. She had even developed a drug addiction in the line of duty helping them take down a horrible drug lord who was addicting the masses to a new substance refined from demon spit. She had done that for them. She didn’t make them commit the three sins. They had all done that on their own. If they were going to throw their souls away then they should at least be collected by someone who cared about them and would take care of them in their eternal damnation. She had to sacrifice her ability to continue adventuring with them just to make sure that when they did die, their eternal torment would be the least horrible she could make it. And this was how they repaid her? Killing her staff, burning her law firm to the ground, and stealing from her? But they were supposed to be the good guys... Why would they do this to their friend?

So with a heavy heart, Liandra cut all ties with her former companions and let them go on their way. She didn’t even press charges and try to retrieve her stolen property. If they were just going to reject her help then she wouldn’t interfere. And if they lost their souls to someone who didn’t have their best interest in mind, there was nothing she could do about it. She had been rejected.

In her grief, Liandra returned home to be with her brother, the half breed, Maldekore The Demon Child. But upon returning home she found that her brother had started a war with the kingdom of Ulria. A war that was close to bringing about the kingdom’s destruction. Still the legal minded sort, Liandra brokered a peace treaty between the warring kingdoms in which she would marry the prince of Ulria and unite their two families instead of watching them destroy each other. But then along came her former companions once again...

They were at once against the wedding and set out to find a magic ring that would protect the prince from her influence. That was a little disappointing. Liandra had rather hoped to have her new husband wrapped around her little finger, but whatever... Even if they managed to retrieve the ring from the wraith of Sinner’s Island and give it to the prince, she would still be in line to become the next queen, even if her power wasn’t absolute. And she would still have saved both kingdoms from the ravages of war. That was something.

But then a third party decided to interfere. A band of dwarves who were unhappy with Ulria’s decision kidnapped Liandra and attempted to convince both sides that the other had been behind it. The war was going to be back on and Liandra was powerless to stop it.

But her former companions! They would surely uncover the truth. They knew a war like this would destroy both sides. Surely they would rescue her! Sure, they’d had their differences in the past, but this was bigger than any of that. They had to know that rescuing her was the only way, right?

Well... no... Instead her former companions... the “heroes”, took the advice of a certain drug lord she had once helped them remove from power, and traveled to the Realm of Madness to recruit a Jabberwock in a last ditch effort to storm her brother’s castle. And Liandra? She was left in a dwarven prison to rot. Alone and forgotten.

Years later the dwarves befell a great calamity at the hands of their master, a Corrupted Monger who her former “friends” had never bothered to remove from power, and Liandra was able to escape. But what she found when she did shocked her. Not only had her former companions put an end to the war by bringing a Jabberwock over from the Realm of Madness and using it to kill her brother, but they had apparently promised the beast her brother’s kingdom in exchange for his service, only to double cross him and banish him back to the Realm of Madness the moment the job was done.

And other tails were being told as well... Tales of Icewind Dale being completely overrun with vampires, which her former companions had tricked into migrating there so they wouldn’t have to deal with them in Ulria. Tales of them aiding a cult in summoning the dread planet, Allabar, the Opener of the Way, from the Far Realm. And even tales of them altering the very fabric of time, resulting in the eldritch abomination, Lenore, becoming the goddess of what was now the most popular religion in the land. Were these really the deeds of the people she had once called her friends? How had the party she once fought along side, who had prided themselves on their precieved goodness, changed so much? She was a succubus. A fiend. Lawful evil... And even she had never done anything that bad...

And where were they now? Happily settled down and retired from adventures. Enjoying the spoils of the exclusive shipping rights for the entire Kingdom of Ulria, which they had apparently swindled the King out of in exchange for their services in killing her brother. Liandra was disgusted. She wanted nothing more to do with them. But apparently fate would not allow it...

It seemed that with her brother’s death, she had come into an inheritance. An adamantine mine located on Dis, the second circle of The Nine Hells. It had once supplied adamantine to the material plane through a pass within a mountain cavern that connected Dis to the material plane. She could use the profits from such a thing to get back on her feet after her law firm was destroyed and her brother’s kingdom concurred in the name of Ulria. But with the kingdom now under Ulria’s banner that meant all shipments would have to go through the shipping company now owned by her former companions.

Not wanting to deal with them again, Liandra reached out to a younger group who had apprenticed under her former companions and now worked for the company. Asking them to handle the shipments of adamantine to the material plane. She even warned them that there were recent reports of trouble in the mountain pass they would have to use and they may have to clear out whatever had decided to nest in there during the time the mine was out of service.

This new group of adventurers seemed promising and she had hoped that maybe she could establish a new sort of friendship with them to replace the one she had regrettably lost with the old group. But trust was going to be hard to build, because they had apprenticed under her former companions, and as such has been told of her. Though obviously tales colored through her former companions’ warped perspectives. This was only made worse when the trouble in the mountain pass turned out to be far greater than she had anticipated.

It turned out the mountain pass was now being used as a staging ground for a heretical cabal of demons and devils working together towards the goal of freeing Tiamat from her prison in the hopes of unleashing her upon the Nine Hells. When the new group of adventurers stumbled into their lair they were quickly taken prisoner and transported back to Dis to serve as slaves for the cabal.

Liandra quickly began working on a plan to rescue them and help them put a stop to this cabal. After all, Dis was her home now. She had even had to sign a contract promising not to leave Dis just to convince their shipping company to take her on as a client. She certainly didn’t want a very angry Tiamat laying waste to it. But her plan was all for naught. The party was only there for three days and before Liandra could even put her plan to rescue them into motion they had already escaped, blamed her for their capture, and unleashed a plague of Brown Mold upon Dis which rapidly spread and engulfed the entire second circle of hell.

They knew Liandra was lawful. They knew that the contract she had signed would bind her to Dis without means of escape. And they covered the entire plane in deadly Brown Mold. It was an assassination attempt. She hadn’t even been a part of what happened to them and they blamed her without any proof and wiped out an entire plane of existence just to kill her. This group was even worse than the ones who had trained them...

Thankfully Liandra was able to escape. An emergency evacuation was put into effect for the entire plane of Dis, and because many of the higher ups who made the rules in Dis were likewise bound to the realm, they voted to lift all binding contracts restricting anyone from leaving under emergency evacuation protocol. Even Tiamat was set free in light of the situation. So it was no problem at all for someone as insignificant as Liandra to breach her contract and flee.

After that she spent a great deal of time as a refugee in one of the great undead cities in the Shadowfell with many of the other evacuees from Dis. She didn’t dare step foot back in the material plane again. Both her former companions and their pupils were deranged psychopaths who committed great atrocities while proclaiming how “good” they were, and they all held a serious vendetta against her. They didn’t even know she had been trying to save them and they weren’t about to listen now.

But after a year in the Shadowfell news reached Liandra of new trouble in Ulria. A band of kobolds had somehow managed to assassinate the king, and at the same time a visiting king from an orcish kingdom across the sea who was visiting on a diplomatic mission. Both sides were now blaming the other and war was once again coming to Ulria. And to make matters worse, that last group of adventurers she had dealt with had somehow managed to destroy Ulria’s economy, amassed all the land’s wealth on their own micro-nation, and was now declaring neutrality in the coming conflict. Ulria would not survive this war on their own.

But Liandra was still a noblewoman with some degree of power. Even if her lands had been taken or destroyed, the orcs didn’t know that. And the new King of Ulria had been her feancè once, so many years ago. Perhaps a political marriage would be enough to give the orcs second thought and hold off the war until things could be sorted out. After all... who wanted to go to war with a kingdom that had just united with the forces of hell? Maybe... Just maybe... their bluff would save Ulria.

And so Liandra and the new king were finally married. He still had that magic ring that protected him from the influence of a succubus, but Liandra didn’t care about that anymore. That was in the past. Now her only concern was in saving the kingdom she had once fought to protect all those many years ago. And she had her work cut out for her. Her new husband was not a very good king. He’d never had much of a mind for politics. She’d known that even back when she tired to marry him the first time. But with Liandra taking over the courtly duties and allowing her husband to serve as king in name only, things were finally starting to improve. They were able to hold off the orc invasion. The lives of Ulria’s people were beginning to improve. Things were finally looking up. Liandra was actually happy. She even converted to her husband’s faith as a worshiper of Odin. She was the first fiend to ever turn her back on hell and convert to the service of a good god.

And then it all fell apart.

A member of the party she had once tried to employ broke into the castle in a drunken stupor, and through a feat of unbelievable luck, managed to make his way to her husband’s bed chambers where he slit the King’s throat in his sleep and stole one of the magic rings from the King’s collection.

Liandra was now the widowed Queen of Ulria, but she had lost the husband she had actually come to love. And now she feared that her former companion’s apprentices would be coming for her next.

But there was another problem. Her husband had been a worshiper of Odin. And Odin had a rule. No king who followed him would be denied death on the battlefield without retribution. But her husband had had his throat slit in his sleep. The rule had been broken. And before Liandra could do anything about it, the castle was suddenly full of valkyrie sent to enact Odin’s retribution. They would have blood. They would have the blood of the one who killed the king and everyone associated with him.

Hoping to hold off the needless slaughter of innocent people who had nothing to do with her husband’s murder, Liandra convinced the valkyrie to stay in the castle as her bodyguards. Telling them that if they stayed with her, the guilty party would come to them when they came back to kill her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to save the foolish party at this point, but at the very least maybe she could limit the deaths the valkyrie would deal out to only them, and spare the lives of their families.

And just as Liandra had expected, the party did come back for her. Now that the King was dead, they had come to kill her and place one of her husband’s illegitimate daughters on the throne as a puppet Queen, loyal to them.

For a fleeting moment, Liandra hoped that upon seeing the valkyrie protecting her, the party would second guess their actions. Maybe they would realize they had gone astray and were no longer doing works of good. But the moment quickly passed when upon seeing the valkyrie the party declared that “Odin must have turned evil if he is protecting a demon!”

In their self delusions they still insisted that she was an evil demon and they were the virtuous heroes. But Liandra wasn’t a demon. She was a succubus. A fiend, neither devil nor demon, and not beholden to the rules of either. She could be whatever she wanted, and that included being good. And those were Liandra’s final thoughts as she and her valkyrie bodyguards were viciously slaughtered in her own bedchamber. She never even fought back.

Over the course of my campaign Liandra’s alignment shifted from Lawful Evil to Chaotic Good. My players, who played out two different parties over the course of the campaign, shifted from Lawful Good to Neutral Evil both times. Although they are still in denial about this and will argue right to my face, that I, the DM, am wrong. But I think the sad tale of the Lady Liandra speaks for itself.

And now I have to find a way to TPK a high level party who has just stupidly declared war on Odin and unleashed the wrath of the entire Norse pantheon. Because at this point they are just too stupid to live.

[thepilotanon]

Prelude xiv

...in nova’s place {masterlist}

I’ve been super busy with work, so there will most likely be plenty of errors on this chapter. I hope you all will enjoy anyway, and will let me know what you thought about this chapter! Hearing back from you all really means a lot. Please enjoy!

warning: death and murder, depiction of military tactics (suicide attempt)

Kylo stared without his mask to the dark haired doctor, fully intending to be intimidating and threatening to anyone passing by him to the private office that belonged to the doctor. The more locked doors and security, the more Kylo realized how serious Antona was taking for his patient currently dozing off the effects of the bacta tank. She still refused to sleep, and the older doctor allowed her to wait for the both of them to return to her heavily guarded quarters. Kylo dismissed any sort of stormtrooper to be present inside the chambers, recognizing how his lover projected her anxiety and distrust of herself around them. He wanted her to be comfortable as possible, and the doctor wasn’t going to argue with the Commander. Instead, Antona requested to speak to Kylo within his office in private…

To discuss what he discovered.

Antona’s office was simple and boring, as usual to any other doctor offices within Starkiller Base. Kylo knew that the doctor had more decor and items within his sleeping quarters, but was monitored from periodic sweeps; the office would remain untouched for the fact of classified files and material that medical professionals would be allowed to choose. He knew it would be safer to speak here, after the buzzing rumors and fear quickly spreading throughout the Base. Antona had managed to form a personal team of three officers to take the underground tunnels above the Kyber mines to Kylo’s location, once the Commander made contact. It was really thanks to Antona’s careful planning and picking out very selected few to retrieve the two Force-sensitive beings during the lockdown and bring them back, but he knew the job was only halfway finished.

“Please, Commander, take a seat,” Antona offered casually as he made his way to his desk. Looking up to see that the man hasn’t moved from his spot, he cleared his throat cautiously. “Or not, that’s fine as well…”

“I do not plan on keeping Nova waiting,” Kylo explained simply, yet his voice low for emphasis of his goal.

Antona didn’t need to ask him to elaborate, instead sitting in his own chair while pulling out his holopad. “I managed to collect samples as soon as you left the base to find Nova,” he began, turning on the device. “I have said before that Nova contracted a virus that is supposedly extinct before either you or I were born. It was an airborne disease formulated to bring an end to Force-sensitive individuals, created by an ancient species who were experts with creating deadly illnesses. They were wiped out a long time ago, and their practices lost, but…”

Pulling up a hologram of Nova’s file, a completely different scale of dangerous numbers and rates, Antona highlighted a diagram of what was labeled at the woman’s toxin levels. “If you look here, the percentage of the virus she obtained should have killed her weeks ago. I have a suspicion that Nova, herself, managed to withstand it spreading with the unknown toxin in her body - with the Force. The vaccine I provided was meant to cure roughly eight people infected.

“With the samples I took from the hospital room, I managed to track the virus from the IV she was hooked up with. Doing a body scan with Nova when she was brought back, within the bacta tank, most of the toxins were within her stomach, meaning that she ingested it.” Antona flipped to a new projection, showing a cycle calendar to Kylo as his eyes darted to how far back she had this poison inside her. “Now, First Order distributes food from the same source, and the delivery droids don’t come in contact with any other sort of droid or beings that can tamper with the food. Since Nova ingested it, I managed to rule out that she didn’t consume it through the food, but from the pills she has been given to help with her sleeping ha -!”

Raising his hand, Kylo shoved Doctor Antona against the wall rather hard, knocking the breath out of him. He wasn’t choking the man, yet his temper was rocking to pour over the brim the further he spoke about medicine - which Antona was in charge of prescribing since their arrival to the makeshift planet.

“You prescribed those medications, Doctor,” Kylo reminded him in a dark voice.

“I prescribe the medication, yes,” Antona admitted, trying to move from Kylo’s restraints. “However, I was never the one to prepare them for Nova! I left that in the care of my assistants when it was transferred from the Supremacy...”

Instantly dropping the doctor, Kylo approached the desk and narrowed his sights on the man. Antona took a deep breath to collect himself. “Mara was the only person given access to Nova’s medication and other supplements. I managed to track Nova’s file to be false from my assistant’s holopad; it went back to a stormtrooper back on the Supremacy, set in the same cycle schedule as Nova, where Mara was transferred from. Mara was the one who has been giving her the virus, all the way back on the Supremacy, Commander Ren!”

Feeling a new sort of emotion rise within him, Kylo’s hands tightened to hard fists all while Antona pressed a button on the projection. It wasn’t even a split second until Kylo’s own holopad signaled him to let him know that there was a notification of coordinates. “I already had her apprehended and locked away while you were with Nova during her ejection from the tank. I understand that protocol calls for the highest rank to deal with any sort of prisoner activity, so...I leave it to you, Commander Ren.”

He could read that the doctor didn’t particularly care for his assistant, allowing him to let his plan to follow through, with or without consent from any sort of higher ups. There was no stopping him as he turned around and left the office with intent on keeping to his promise Nova.

Mara was restrained by her wrists and ankles, each stormtrooper by her side on guard to keep her in place, as if she could escape at any time without extra eyes on her. As soon as Kylo Ren entered the holding cell with the singular chair, he instructed the ‘troopers to leave him with the silent woman staring right back at him. She didn’t express any sort of emotion, and neither did he. Approaching closer to the prisoner, Kylo could sense that she was trying her best to hold back - her eyes holding some sort of fake pride, as if what she had done was something to be complimented about. A part of Kylo was so tempted to strangle her slowly and kill her now, yet he knew there was more than what he, or Doctor Antona, knew, and she held the answers.

Green eyes snapping to the Commander, Mara took a deep breath and kept her composure. “Whatever you want to know, I won’t tell you anything,” she said defiantly. “I have been instructed to keep quiet about whatever I know.”

“You won’t need to say anything,” Kylo responded in a bland tone, as if bored of her attempt to be strong. It was nothing to admire about.

Raising a hand towards her flame-colored hair, Kylo peeled back her thoughts to the point that the pain for Mara was instant. She cried out and screamed in agony as Kylo dug deep and relentless into her memories, snapping and shattering her emotions and strength into nothing but dust as he raked the nails of his Force abilities to find everything he wanted to know.

Mara, back on the Supremacy as she entered the throne room. Snoke and General Hux present inside as she stood before the both of them.

Snoke giving her instructions to manipulate Nova’s sleeping medication to conduct their “experiment”, being given complete access to all laboratories. The holochip giving classified files of the Old Republic illnesses and poisons, supposedly lost to time…

Give Nova the poison that brings her to a state of comatose, where she won’t recognize her current surroundings. Record the reaction from her and the planet, and send everything back to the Supreme Leader.

Mara entering the restricted lab that held Nova’s sleeping pills, injecting a thick, mucus-like substance before giving it to the delivery droid every night. How she modified the droids to ensure that she would take the medication every single time to obtain the poison. Entering the hospital room while the patient was asleep - Kylo didn’t miss how uncomfortable Nova’s slumbering face looked, whether it was the toxins or the bed, he didn’t know - and injected the poison into her IV tube.

Mara watching from inside her quarters as the holopad showed the security footage of Nova’s hospital room, where the ill woman woke with a sudden jolt and began screaming in terror at the sight of droids. The redhead woman watching the security footage break, turning boredly to the real, accurate medical records keeping track of Nova’s rampage.

During the lockdown, Mara collected data of unusual activity within the empty Kyber mines while projecting the actual file of the sick woman’s heart rate and vitals that were hidden from the head doctor and Commander. How she emotionlessly watched it all falter from the bacta pump Kylo had given her before her body succumbed to the outdoor storm, locking the files down into a private archive directed towards the Supreme Leader.

Holding the capsule of instant poison - a getaway - Mara was about to take the pill before Antona’s trusted ‘troopers broke into her quarters and hauled her out before she could get away.

Pulling out of her mind as roughly as possible, Kylo watched the woman release a painful cry before slouching forward and breathed heavily through her mouth in desperate gasps for air. Reaching with his hand out to grab her red hair within his leather hand and yanked her head back, making her whimper fearfully while keeping her eyes shut, Kylo stared distastefully down at her. She was exposing her fears like a weakling, a crybaby prisoner who was borderline ready to beg for mercy from the intimidating Commander. A part of Kylo wanted to see her beg for her life, yet the flashes of Nova’s tears and her own personal horrors entered his mind on a whim, and Kylo felt his lips curl into a sinister snarl.

“If only you had taken your way out just a moment sooner,” Kylo spoke with venom on his tongue. “If only you were smart enough to slip passed my radar and never be held personally responsible for the near death of someone who means so much to me.”

“W-wh..?”

With his other hand, Kylo curled his fingers into a fist, each digit causing a reaction of her throat tightening, blocking air coming through. He watched as Mara gasped, her green eyes growing wide with terror as she struggled to breath the more fingers Kylo curled.

“If only I had the desire to give you a quick death. Unfortunately, for you, I have all the time I need to let you suffer in ways Nova did.”

Once to his thumb, Kylo held still as he released her hair as her head hit the back of the chair. Mara was desperately gasping for air, choking and shaking within her restraints with tears in her eyes. Her face changing color from fair, to pink, to red...then, slowly to blue with her rolling back to her head. It was only when Kylo relaxed his hand did she inhale desperately, only for him to start over again with choking her - prolonging her suffering with less and less time for her to breathe each time he let her go.

Kylo dragged out her slow death for as long as possible before leaving the room to return to his personal quarters.

Doctor Antona was examining Nova’s toes as she laid down on the bed in her side of the chambers. Using his writing utensil to poke and prod each of her toes before tickling up and down her foot, the doctor chuckled when his patient peeped and pulled her foot back at the sensation. Bringing the heavy blanket back to cover her feet, Antona carefully patted her covered legs and gave her a gentle expression when she stared distantly to her lap.

“You’re making a wonderful recovery, Nova. I don’t doubt that you’ll make a full recovery within a few days before attempting to walk; the bacta patches will continue to do their work to the frost bite, so please leave them on,” he explained carefully to her with a reassuring smile. “Remain in bed until so, unless you need to use the refresher, and make sure to eat all your food portions and take in fluids. It will make you feel better.”

Getting up from the corner of the bed, the man went over to the closet to retrieve another blanket to keep near the patient. All while doing so, Nova’s head lifted to watch him move about as careful as possible, as to not disturb her with sudden movements. Since she had came out of the bacta tank, she was given new bacta patches to her joints and cheekbones and an ointment applied to her lips to heal the bleeding cracks and frost. Nova bathed with the help of female officers and was dressed in fresh pajamas, yet she hadn’t had much to say as she struggled to figure out what everyone around her was thinking - of what happened, and what she had done. The bacta was making her drowsy, and her focus with the Force was off, yet she was desperate to figure out what damage she had caused before Kylo returned to her. Glancing briefly to the nightstand, she frowned a bit deeper at the sight of the silver whistle that was removed from her after being taken out of the tank. It wasn’t completely cleaned, and still had some remnants of her blood on it.

“Antona...”

The doctor turned his head, hearing her voice for the first time since she was brought back. He was glad to hear her speak - although hoarse - so willingly to him, after everything that has happened. He was almost worried about her mental state of being emotionally traumatized by the ordeal. Returning to the edge of the bed, Antona kneeled down to her level and offered her a careful smile.

“How are you feeling, Nova? Can I get you anything?” he asked her gently.

“I want to know how many I killed,” she told him softly, her eyes looking to him with determination to find out.

Frowning, Antona was about to reject her kindly when her wrapped hand grabbed the collar of his uniform. She didn’t pull him with force or anger, but a support to keep him to her level as she gazed to him desperately.

“Please,” she spoke quietly to him, “I just want to know… I did something horrible to innocent people, and I want to acknowledge my terrible mistake.”

Swallowing, Antona looked down to her slightly shaking hand still holding on to him. Reaching to take her wrist with careful fingers, the doctor held onto her healing hand with his palm on top of her covered knuckles. “Through your fever, which you had no control over,” he began in a soft voice, “we have counted that sixteen medical nurses, over twenty-five officers and an estimate of a dozen or so stormtroopers were killed. There were also eleven patients in the same ward that didn’t make it… There are still others we haven’t accounted for, as of yet.”

Nova nodded slowly, and Antona was quick to squeeze her hand. “But, you must know, Nova, that this was not your fault, okay? You will not be held accountable for what has happened here and will not be in trouble. You were ill and hallucinating, what you did was not your fault in any way, and we know that.”

Looking to him with a empathetic, yet sad smile, Nova pulled her hand back to settle them on her lap comfortingly. “I appreciate all your help, Antona. Thank you, but I would like to try and rest now, and I’m sure you have work to do.”

As if on cue, the door to the quarters hissed open and Kylo charged in, startling the doctor. To him Antona guessed that Nova sensed the Commander coming closer, disregarding their private conversation for his sake. Nova remained passive and exhausted, letting the doctor stand up and face Kylo.

“Is she recovering?” Kylo asked Antona with a stern voice, expression empty.

Nodding, Antona patted the extra blankets on the edge of the bed. “I will check in within a few cycles before we will try walking. I would rather we take some time, but she is healing very well by far.” Passing by Kylo and waiting for the door to open, Antona offered him a farewell nod. “Should you need me, do not hesitate to contact me directly.”

Waiting until the doctor disappeared with closing doors, Kylo slowly turned to face the woman remaining in bed. He eyes her for a moment, seeing her lightly touch the dark patches on her knuckled out of curiosity. “You asked him how many…”

“Yes,” she answered honestly, making his brow twitch with stress.

He carefully approached the bed and sat on the edge beside her legs, facing her way as she still refused to look directly to him. “Why would you ask him that, Nova? It shouldn’t be of any concern to you,” he spoke low, as if the guards outside the thick walls could hear. He knew her Force wall was back and fully functional, as he couldn’t sense Snoke or any other being disturbing their rooms.

“I have made a mistake, and it took the lives of innocent people who didn’t deserve to die,” Nova said sourly, swallowing a lump in her throat. “No one was attacking me, but I still killed them because I thought they were my past coming back to get me. Now, people are scared of me all over again, because I’m a weapon…”

“No, you’re not -”

“You saw what I did, Kylo. What I’m capable of doing!”

“That doesn’t -!”

“I’m a monster, Kylo!” she snapped at him, tears filling her eyes as she stared at him with such sadness that it made his heart twist painfully. “I’m a bloody monster, born and meant to breed killers, like an animal! I come from nothing and will remain nothing but someone’s weapon!”

Taking her face with both hands, Kylo angled her head up to him as he connected their foreheads together, eyes burning into hers with tears forming within them, biting his lip between his teeth. He was trying so hard not to raise his voice, his thumb tracing her pouting lip carefully, shaking his head gently to her.

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t frustrated to the point he wanted to destroy the room with his abilities. No, Kylo was not angry.

“Never,” he mumbled under his breath, making Nova blink and tears slipped down her cheeks. “I have never seen you as a monster, never a weapon. You are no one’s weapon, Nova. You’re not a monster. You are so much more than what you believe, and nothing is going to change the fact that I love you.”

Feeling her jaw tighten from a hiding sob, Kylo closed his eyes while pulling her into a embrace, his leathered hand cradling the back of her head. Pressing his lips under her ear, he whispered carefully to her. “Your feelings and emotions - they’re beautiful, and you wonder so much about everything you see, Nova. I have never seen you as a pawn of a weapon, or any sort of a monster,” he told her, feeling her pulse quicken and her breath tickle against the back hairs of his neck. “You’re a beautiful creature who holds so much power and curiosity, and I could never ask you to do anything you don’t want to do for my satisfaction. You remind me of what it means to continue on from the past, Nova; you let your past die, you don’t want to continue to be what you were.

“I promise to take it, Nova. I promise to make people see the real you: the one who wants to live on and be by my side willingly,” he confessed. “No matter what you’ve done or what may happen, I won’t let anyone take you away from what you want, okay? Just...don’t ever believe for one second that you’re a monster. You’re not a monster. You’re not a weapon.”

Feeling her head shift, her mouth right beside his ear as she sniffed back her cries, Kylo held her tighter against him. Her hands sliding up his ribs, one hand gripping his tunic while the other wrapped around his collar and held on for dear life as she buried her eyes to his shoulder. He could sense how she projected her constant fear slowly dwindling to mere bewilderment by his words making him push an invisible response of his honesty to her and how he intends to keep that promise no matter what.

“Please,” she whimpered to him, desperate, “please, say it again?”

“You are not a weapon,” he responded willingly, not hesitating. “You are not a weapon or a monster, Nova. I love you.”

“I love Kylo, too,” Nova sniffed and lightly tugged on his clothed. “I love Kylo. I love you, Kylo.”

Finally having her laying down on the bed, her tears cleaned away by his hands and lips, Kylo managed to remove majority of his clothing while keeping a close eye on her. After checking all the bacta patches on her shoulders, hands and face, Kylo began unfolding the extra blanket for extra measures of making sure Nova was warm. Although already having a few already covering her body from the waist down, she remained quiet while lying on her side and stare aimlessly at her whistle still on the nightstand while he draped it over her.

Following her line of vision, Kylo picked up on a sensation tickling the back of his mind that he didn’t recognize before.

“You worry for Snoke’s opinion for what I have done,” Nova spoke when he stilled. “You found out who...made me sick, and it had to do with Snoke, didn’t it.”

Gazing to her back, his eyes softened a bit with his own sort of worry as he crawled into bed. Propping himself with his elbow, his free hand reached to lightly trace the skin of her upper back, exposed by the fabric of her shirt being too wide for her body. The tip of his fingers lightly touched the edge of the thick, diagonal scar with the most gentle care. Nova didn’t flinch away from the touch, instead leaning back for his palm to press against her otherwise soft skin. Kylo felt his heart skip a beat at the gesture, letting his thumb brush against her shoulder blade.

“Mara - the assistant who was suppose to help Doctor Antona - had been giving her a poison by instruction from the Supreme Leader,” Kylo answered, although hesitant in how much detail he should provide to her until he can figure everything out for himself. “The Supreme Leader knew…”

“Will he dispose of me?”

“No,” Kylo growled under his breath, causing Nova to turn her head to look at him from over her shoulder. Realizing what he had said, Kylo felt his throat tighten, looking down to trace the tip of his fingers on her scar. “He...he can’t dispose of you, you’re too important.”

“I am important to Kylo, not to Snoke,” she corrected him. “If Snoke was willing to risk my life to have that experiment take place, with the chance of me dying, then he does not care for my health or well-being, Kylo. He doesn’t care for me. You and I know that very well, don’t we?”

There was a moment of silence between them, and Kylo slipped his arm around her frame and pulled her close to his chest. Keeping her voice quiet and calm, Nova placed one of her wrapped hands ontop of his. “Would you fight Snoke, if he were to harm me?”

Kylo didn’t answer right away. Nova slowly turned around in his arm to meet his conflicted eyes as her hand slipped up his arm to cup his cheek, her fingers stroking his jaw when she offered him a small, sad smile. Kylo bit his lip and looked away from her gaze, pressing his mouth into her palm as a sort of apology, yet the woman scooted closer before resting her head into the pocket under his chin. Her nose pressed to his collarbone, she closed her eyes and leaned her weight on him. Kylo could feel her warmth mingling with his own, and he wanted nothing more than to just melt against her and hold her close. Shutting his eyes, he pressed his face further into her hand.

“You will get what you want to achieve, Kylo,” Nova whispered, and his breath hitched when she raised her head to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. So gentle that it made his eyes feel a bit heavy without shedding tears at feeling the small smile against his skin. “You will get it, Kylo, don’t worry.”

“He can’t do anything to you,” he shuddered under his breath. “I just - I need to prove-”

“I understand, Kylo,” she hushed him softly, stopping him with soft nuzzles and more kisses. “Don’t worry, Kylo, please.”

“He can’t take you, Nova. I promised you.”

“You’re keeping your promise to me, Kylo. He won’t take me,” Nova said with a kiss to his cheek, his arm wrapping tighter around her with his nose burying into her hair. Cuddling against him more, the healing woman rest her cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat against her ear.

“I love you,” Nova whispered to him, her fingers brushing his chest gently before circling her arm over him. “I love you, Kylo. I trust you with my life, and I hope you feel the same with yours in my hands. I promise I’ll protect you, too, Kylo.”

“Yes,” Kylo answered honestly. “I know. I know.”

Fun fact: Mara actually comes from a canon Star Wars character, Mara Jade, who also contracted an illness that was meant to wipe out Force-sensitives in the book series, Legends!!

taglist: @ayatimascd @ymariejp @yippee-ki-yay-motherfucker460 @formerly-anonhamster @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @imyourdreamwife

Remember, if you would like to be tagged for future chapters, please don’t hesitate to message me! I’d be more than happy to add you. Thank you for reading and I hope to hear from you!

[hollywoodjuliorivas]

From the Civil War to the football field, we have been celebrating the wrong values

Capt. Norwood Penrose Hallowell

Capt. Norwood Penrose Hallowell (Collection of the Massachusetts Historical Society)

Image without a caption

By

Sally Jenkins

Columnist

June 11, 2020 at 3:16 a.m. PDT

There are a half-dozen statues of Stonewall Jackson peering from pedestals, so tall he can see over three states. For a representation of Pen Hallowell, you can find only an archival photograph of a mildly handsome bearded young man in plain tunic, one hand holding a forage cap, the other resting lightly on a sword. Even in that, though, you can see his easy athleticism and his backbone.

It’s not really your fault if you don’t know who Hallowell was. His life and slim writings largely have been buried by “Gone With the Wind” nonsense. They should be revived and made required reading in locker rooms. Maybe then there wouldn’t be so many misconceptions about what constitute guts. Or such a romance with that over-glossed traitor Robert E. Lee and all the other Reb glorification that has haunted our sports fields, police stations, military bases and halls of justice.

American football always has been associated with warrior culture. We have fancied it trained young men to be good leaders, made “field generals” out of them, until it has become associated with what cultural historian Michael Oriard has called “a brand of flag-waving more like superpatriotism.” In truth, just like our statues and monuments, somehow we let the priorities become misplaced. The good teammate must show conformity and mindless allegiance rather than principle, keep his mouth shut and subsume himself and all of his personal colors and convictions in, say, team crimson. Instead of immortalizing Hallowell, we forgot him.

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Hallowell “was a power in Harvard athletics,” according to one of the earliest histories of football, who enlisted in the Union Army in 1861 just after graduating. But what you can be sure of is that he was a hell of a rower and a swimmer. During the Battle of Ball’s Bluff, the 22-year-old swam across the Potomac River three times through bullet-pocked water to rescue trapped and wounded comrades. You can get an additional idea of Hallowell’s virtuosity from the fact that his son Jack was a two-time all-American end in football and his grandson Norwood Penrose III was a runner who finished sixth in the 1,500 meters at the 1932 Summer Olympics before serving aboard warships in World War II.

Jerry Brewer: Black and white teammates know: Conflict is inevitable; winners confront it

Pen Hallowell had something more than physical courage, and so did his elder brother, Edward “Ned” Needles Hallowell. “The Fighting Quakers,” as they were nicknamed, were sons of a Philadelphia abolitionist whose home was a stop on the Underground Railroad. As boys they spirited fugitive slaves to safety in the family carriage. As men they volunteered as officers with the legendary all-black 54th and 55th Massachusetts regiments.

As for Ned Hallowell, he was shot three times charging with the left wing of the martyred 54th Massachusetts at Fort Wagner, just behind his doomed friend Robert Gould Shaw. With Shaw’s body lying in a sandy ditch with his troops, Ned Hallowell assumed command of the regiment. Assigned the rear guard during a perilous retreat in a battle called Olustee, he and his men spent 20,000 cartridges checking the Confederates and then countermarched to save a train of intermingled black and white wounded soldiers that had broken down. When they couldn’t fix the motor, they attached ropes to the engine cars and manually hauled that bloody train to safety, with Confederate gunfire guttering at their backs.

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While those men were towing a locomotive by ropes, Pen Hallowell was beating in the doors of Congress trying to get them paid equal to white soldiers. The 54th and 55th were offered just $7 a month, while white soldiers got $13. Largely thanks to the brothers’ efforts, Congress finally approved equal pay for black soldiers in 1864.

Why bring any of this up? Because it’s an example of what black-white alliances can do, for one thing. Because Sunday is Flag Day, for another. And because every well-meaning but unread white athlete, coach, owner, athletic director and sportswriter needs to understand that Pen Hallowell, to whom black lives really did matter, lost his war. And football had no small part in that.

The vague phrase “systemic racism” is not just perpetuated by men with badges. It’s also propagated by our false victory narratives. There have been few more powerful cultural narrators than the NFL and the NCAA, with their close association with military triumphalism. They have been terrible teachers of historical truth, lousy with misplaced definitions of valor. Pen Hallowell was alive to hear Harvard football coach W. Cameron Forbes declare in 1900 that American football was “the expression of strength of the Anglo-Saxon. It is the dominant spirit of the dominant race, and to this it owes its popularity and its hope of permanence.”

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Steve Kerr believes Colin Kaepernick will ‘ultimately be considered a hero’ for protests

Then there was that Princeton academic and assistant football coach named Woodrow Wilson, who rewrote the Civil War in volumes of purported American history so racist that they enraged Hallowell because they so “abounded with apologies for slavery.”

Hallowell tried to fight back in the post-war battle of values. He wrote essays and speeches devoted to the bravery of black soldiers and those conscientious outliers, abolitionists. On Memorial Day in 1896, he gave a remembrance address at Harvard. Sickened by romantic war myths in which the treachery and slave-driving of the Confederacy were painted over as cavalier spirit, Hallowell said, “To ignore the irreconcilable distinction between the cause of the North and that of the South is to degrade the war.”

Yet isn’t that what we have done? We have degraded that war — to the point that we hardly know what real honor is anymore, much less how to coach it on our playing fields. Degraded it until Colin Kaepernick was reviled for a simple show of conscience on racism. Degraded it until racial justice and the flag seemed in such conflict that a decent man such as Drew Brees couldn’t think clearly and make a clean judgment. Degraded it to the point that Pen Hallowell has faded to a relative obscurity, except among war buffs and historians, while the University of Mississippi kept Colonel Reb as a mascot until 2003. Even now frat boys will dress in the costumes of traitors to the flag at cotillions, without the first blush of hot shame.

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Thomas Boswell: It’s not which sports figures are speaking out that’s telling. It’s how many.

It’s the 21st century, yet 85 percent of the authorities in the Football Bowl Subdivision, the coaches, athletic directors, chancellors, presidents and conference commissioners who run it, are white. So are 28 of the NFL’s 32 head coaches. Almost all of them say they are trying to figure out how to “support” black players. As they filter back to their campuses and team facilities, there are a lot of hard conversations about race and patriotism. Whether to emulate the bent knee of Kaepernick in protest. Whether to support Deshaun Watson and DeAndre Hopkins in their quest to efface John C. Calhoun, who called slavery “a positive good,” from Clemson’s campus.

If we want football to be something worth preserving, we should demand that it celebrates the right qualities — and people.

Here’s a helpful suggestion to the coaches: Try reading a little Hallowell on the subject of what it is to really fight for each other. In the slim volumes produced by that genuine patriot and war hero are some things that may surprise them. For instance, Nick Saban and his Alabama players probably don’t know that after the war Hallowell helped finance a private school for black students in Calhoun, Ala., with Booker T. Washington.

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But most important is what Hallowell has to teach about courage and protest. “The courage necessary to face death in battle is not of the highest order,” Hallowell wrote. He saw a “higher and rarer courage” in the “long suffering and patient endurance” of the soldiers so invested in their equal pay protest that they fought for 18 months without accepting a cent until they won fair treatment.

Hallowell and his brother are buried in Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Mass., with headstones so small they seem like chips compared with Confederate monuments. When Hallowell finally died in 1914, his close friend and compatriot Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. called him “the most generously gallant spirit, and I don’t know but the greatest soul I ever knew.” If there was a peerless man who deserves to be on a height, it’s Pen Hallowell. Yet look what we have done to him. Look what we have done to all of us.

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Headshot of Sally Jenkins

Sally Jenkins

Sally Jenkins is a sports columnist for The Washington Post. She began her second stint at The Washington Post in 2000 after spending the previous decade working as a book author and as a magazine writer.

[burningstcrs]

STATS.

NAME: yndar al’iell FANDOM / PROJECT: star trek: deep space nine SPECIES: bajoran BIRTHDAY: 2354 RESIDENCE: deep space nine ALIGNMENT: chaotic good OCCUPATION: engineer RELIGION: worshiper of the prophets

AGE: 21 GENDER: cis female EYE COLOR: hazel HAIR COLOR: brown HEIGHT: 5′8″ WEIGHT: 125 lbs

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: demiromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual MARITAL STATUS: single OTHER:  al'iell is very reluctant to engage in romantic relationships, due to her ptsd and reluctance to trust. she very rarely feels romantic attachment to anyone, though she has experimented several times with sexual relationships.

MENTAL ABILITIES: n/a PHYSICAL ABILITIES:  n/a

BIOGRAPHY.

Al'iell was born during the Cardassian Occupation on the eleventh planet of the Bajoran System, Bajor XI during the year 2354. Her parents, like most Bajorans on the planet, were members of the Bajoran Underground. For the first five years of her life, she lived on her grandparent’s kava farm in the Kendra Province, beside the Yolja river. It was at this time that the Cardassians raided the farm, killed her grandparents, and took her and the other farm hands captive.

Al'iell was only held in the work camp for a few months before the Resistance liberated the small camp, led by her parents. She spent the remaining years of her childhood running small errands for the Resistance, travelling all around the Kendra Province with her parent’s resistance cell. When she was 12, her father left the resistance cell to travel to Terok Nor, to work with the resistance there to free the station from Gul Dukat. Al'iell continued to travel with her mother, now growing old enough to run messages between resistance cells, and travel on her own.

In 2368, Al'iell had journeyed all the way into the Lonar Province to relay a message when the Kendra Valley Massacre occured. She came back to find her mother’s resistance cell all slaughtered, betrayed by a collaborator. Her fury had no match in fervor but her grief. She wandered the Kendra Province, moving from town to town, until the Cardassians withdrew from Bajor in 2369. Her father was able to collect her from the surface and bring her safely to Terok Nor, renamed Deep Space Nine by the Federation.

Al'iell, her conscience at war with grief for her mother and joy for her liberated planet, helped the Federation and Bajoran alliance repair the station, mostly with cleaning the station the Cardassian had torn nearly to pieces in anger at their withdrawal. Her father was given a job as a Bajoran security officer, under the charge of Security Chief Odo, the shapeshifter appointed during Gul Dukat’s reign.

For one year, Al'iell was relatively at peace. She lived aboard DS9, studied in Keiko O'Brien’s school, and came to reexamine her relationship with the Prophets. With the discovery of the wormhole, known to her people as the Celestial Temple, came some peace to her damaged soul, some verification of the faith she had struggled to keep in the Occupation. Her Prophets were out there, watching over her there on the station, just as they were on Bajor.

Despite the odd happenings on the station, the looming threat of the Cardassians, and the often inept decisions of the Provisional Government, Al'iell had food, shelter, and even friends. It didn’t take long to make friends with Jake Sisko, though Nog was less easily accpeted. It wasn’t until after he stopped his advances that she became friends with him as well, and began cultivating a cunning understanding of Ferengi business tactics. When Jake got a job under Chief O'Brien, Al'iell was quick to follow the idea. She had enough of war in her young life, and she wanted to fix instead of destroy. She began her engineering apprenticeship at age 16, just as the cold war between the Alpha Quadrant and the Dominion began.

Things became tense on Deep Space Nine, something Al'iell could hardly fail to notice. Even as her talent for engingeering became more apparent, it was clear her ability to fight needed to be cultivated again. She borrowed money from her father to practice fighting in the holodecks, despite her desire to move past her bloody past. For three years, she practiced, waited, and learned. And when the Dominion struck in 2373, she was ready.

The Second Battle of Deep Space Nine began, and though the station rocked and creaked around her, and her father begged her to return to Bajor, Al'iell refused to leave. Though she would always love Bajor, it held too much pain for her, and DS9 was her home now. Benjamin Sisko and the Federation were forced from the station, and, despite the sabotage that made DS9 nearly uninhabitable, she and the Bajorans held their ground. Al'iell joined with Jake in Kira Nerys’ resistance cell, doing everything she could to free her home, both Bajor and DS9, from Dominion/Cardassian rule.

Mid-2374, the Federation aimed to reclaim DS9, and Al'iell fought to free her home, once again painting her hands in Cardassian blood, and adding stains from the Dominion forces. The Dominion abandoned the station, but not without leaving their mark on Al'iell’s soul. It was tainted once again with war, and the taste wouldn’t leave her mouth. Though her home was free, the Dominion were oppressing other worlds, doing to other civilizations what she had fought to free Bajor from. Despite her father’s objections, she joined the Bajoran militia.

In the war’s lull, she travelled the nearby sectors, putting her talents to use by fixing damanged ships, in case the Dominion launched another attack. And launch they did. The capture of Betazed was an outrage, and the Bajoran militia, alligned with Starfleet, sent troops to try and reclaim the planet. Despite numerous failed attempts to retake the surface, they reclaimed some refugees, one of which was a Bajoran girl that Al'iell fell in love with. However, the girl was already engaged to be married, and her affections were not returned.

When the Romulans entered the war, Al'iell was one of the first to volunteer to coordinate with their forces in the attack on the Cardassian border, trying to outrun her feelings. She continued to flit from force to force with other members of the Bajoran militia, as Bajor’s good relations with most Alpha Quadrant powers had them being the most versatile fighters. It wasn’t until the Second Battle of Chin'toka that she truly began to worry. If the Federation, always seeming so mighty, could suffer the loss of 311 ships, what chance did Bajor stand?

She withdrew from the military, returning to DS9 to take up the guard of the station, Bajor, and the Celestial Temple. She remained her until the invasion of Cardassia began. She joined a Bajoran ship, and journeyed, for the first time, into the space of her once-oppressors. Given their history, the Bajorans were reluctant to help in the Cardassian Revolution, even with the possibility of the destruction of the Dominion. It wasn’t until the last hours of the battle that Al'iell set foot on Cardassia Prime, and saw it in utter ruins.

Though she had dreamed of the Cardassians burning for so much of her life, seeing broken bodies in the street and smelling the burning buildings gave her no joy. She stayed for only a day in Cardassia before fleeing back to the station on a Federation ship. She hoped to find sanctuary from the haunting memories, but instead found that the Pah-Wraiths were nearly released, only to be stopped by the Emissary. With Sisko’s disappearance, and Nog’s enlistment in Starfleet, she remained aboard DS9 to help Jake deal with the loss of his father, and it wasn’t until he left to purse his writing career that she realized the hole in her own soul.

Al'iell remains on Deep Space Nine, working as one of the main engineers in charge of keeping contact with the lost USS Voyager. Occasionally, she hires out her services as an engineer, leaving the station to fix problems on distant ships and planets. However, with the end of the Dominion War, she hopes to find peace in her soul once again, despite the road to recovery being long.

STAR WARS VERSE.

Al'iell was thrown upon entering the Celestial Temple. It should have been a simple test flight, checking that the runabout’s new shields could withstand the tumultuous conditions of the wormhole. Without any knowledge of what was happening, the runabout was thrown through the wormhole and fell… somewhere else. Upon (crash) landing, she was saved by a girl barely older than herself, and was told she was on the planet Wukkar, somewhere she had never heard of. It wasn’t long until she realized that somehow she had been thrown into another universe, far from the life she had once known. She only prays now that the prophets can still hear her.

MODERN VERSE.

The year was 2375. In a memorial to their years of friendship before going their seperate ways, Al'iell, Jake Sisko, and Nog took a trip to Earth to visit Jake’s grandfather and Nog’s friends from Starfleet Academy. Upon arrival, she beamed Jake and Nog to the planet while waiting to put in the ship for hull repair from a brief storm they had passed through. It was then that a Romulan warbird decloaked nearby, and the chroniton particles fused with the damaged hull, jolting Al'iell into the 21st century. Though tempted to live out her life in isolation to prevent a disruption of the timeline, Al'iell was too curious about humanity to pass up the opportunity. She travelled to the planet’s surface and began to integrate into their culture, bit by bit, though taking great care to hide the Bajoran ridges on her nose.

[theartofbeinganerd]

And here it is, the Epilogue for a hand to hold (take me home)! I’ve loved sharing this fic with you all so much. To see how much other people enjoyed it when I’d never intended on posting this fic, thinking that I was the only one who’d be interested in it has been so wonderful, truly! Thank you to everyone that has liked, commented, reblogged, given kudos, etc, you’re all so fantastic!!

(Ao3)

-

“Today’s top story: Grant Ward, brother of Senator Christian Ward and former police officer, is officially being charged today in connection with the string of murders committed over the past several months, apparently dating back to even before the slaying of a local family, one of whom is the only known survivor of the attacks. He, along with several other members of the gang now said to be known as ‘HYDRA’ are due to appear in court next year, though there’s still no word on the mysterious connection of several prominent politicians, businessmen, and police officers said to be involved –”

Fitz turned the volume of the news broadcast down low, setting the remote down beside him on the couch with a world-weary sigh. Ward’s arrest hadn’t been the victory that Fitz had been expecting all these months for it to be, and it did nothing to erase the sick feeling that still swirled in his gut from time to time, nor would it bring back Sarah’s family, or any of the other lives that he’d so carelessly taken.

According to Daisy, the station had been abuzz with activity for the past few weeks since Ward’s initial arrest, and that Fitz was probably lucky that he hadn’t been there during the interviews – she’d had to be pulled out of Ward’s interrogation by Coulson himself before she could pass her own sentence on him.

The question that seemed to be on everyone’s minds, though, was why? Ward still hadn’t spoken a word, but from what they’d managed to gather from his accomplices, HYDRA was supposedly some sort of cult, rather than a gang as they’d previously assumed. And the strangest part? They apparently worshipped some demon-god named Alveus that Ward had apparently claimed to be in contact with.

Demon worship had never seemed like Ward’s particular brand of crazy, but Fitz supposed that everyone was hiding something.

However, as more and more of Ward’s accomplices had systematically been identified, taken in, and questioned, the whole situation had only continued to get worse; with a few choice looks from May, a handful of Ward’s lackeys had begun to spin the tale of a HYDRA that had been running in their town for years. According to them, it had started with a couple of powerful men who sought to use the criminal underground to their advantage, and had their hands in drugs, prostitutes, money laundering, and several other serious crimes.

It hadn’t been proven yet, of course, but already the von Strucker and Malick families had been implicated, along with Daniel Whitehall, Alexander Pierce, and Lieutenant Garrett. Which, Fitz couldn’t help but think, made sense – after all, he’d been the one to train Ward, had taken him in when he was a rookie and taught him everything that he needed to know to survive. And, it also explained why information on the case had been mysteriously disappearing from the station.

Ward, though, seemed to have taken the HYDRA ideal just a step too far with his demon-worshipping cult, which coincidentally began its killings right after he’d been fired by Coulson. The suspicious timeline, however, begged the question – had Ward actually gone off the deep end, or had the entire thing just been a cleverly constructed ruse to get back at Coulson and the station as a whole with a seemingly unsolvable case, designed to discredit them? With Ward refusing to speak, it made it almost impossible to answer definitely, though Fitz was sure that they all had their assumptions.

The only good thing that had come out of the recent weeks was the news that Sarah Hudson was making a full recovery, and would soon be completely healed – physically, at least. According to Daisy, she’d been seeing a child psychologist at the hospital, and they’d already been making some progress in helping Sarah to come to terms with the horrible event and the loss of her family.

Fitz had been by to see her once, on his last day in the hospital himself after the gunshot wound in his thigh had been stitched up, and she’d seemed to be in pretty good spirits, given the situation. Daisy, though, made regular visits in to see her, confessing to Fitz once that she wanted to make sure that Sarah still had someone that cared about her around. Fitz felt pretty safe in assuming that once Sarah went into the foster care system upon her release from the hospital, Daisy would be keeping a close eye on her.

Despite all of that, the situation was still overwhelmingly and understandably negative and, as the full extent of HYDRA and its crimes continued to be revealed more and more with each passing day, it seemed to be the only thing that the news reported on anymore. It didn’t help that their viewers were shamelessly eating up every single new detail, which only made the news stations more desperate for new information to report on – and, as such, Fitz had been unable to escape it since the whole damn thing had started.

Fortunately, at that moment, there was a knock on the door of his flat. Grateful for the unexpected distraction, Fitz turned the TV off, carefully rising and limping over to open the door on his still-aching leg. When he found a frazzled-looking Jemma on the other side, he gave into his surprise at her sudden appearance for a beat, then stepped back and asked, “Would you like to come in?” She nodded wordlessly, tucking her hair behind her ear as she followed him to the kitchen. “I’ve already got a pot of tea brewing.”

Once they’d sat down at the table with cups of tea, an uncomfortable silence fell heavily between them, and it stretched on until Fitz came to the realization that she wasn’t going to say anything to break it.

“How have you been? I haven’t seen you since that day I was in the hospital for my leg,” he commented, a bit glad for the opportunity to do so, since thoughts of the encounter had been plaguing him in the past few weeks just as much as the Ward case had been.

The visit had been brief; she’d come in while he was still hopped up on pain meds after surgery, and she’d just stood beside his bed, running her fingers through his hair and looking at him with tears in her eyes. Since that moment, though, she’d become strangely MIA, and even Daisy had had trouble getting a hold of their mutual friend.

Fitz had been worried and rather confused by the whole thing, but he hadn’t wanted to push, or to just randomly show up on her doorstep. Instead, he’d forced himself to wait until she made the first move, until she reached out to him, always abundantly aware of the subtle but important shift in their relationship since the almost-kiss at the hospital all those weeks ago now; he didn’t want to make the wrong move and subsequently ruin the friendship that they’d spent the past few months building up. After everything that had happened lately, he just couldn’t afford to lose her, couldn’t even begin imagine getting through all of this without her presence in his life.

Finally, after another rather lengthy stretch of silence, Jemma breathed deeply, then murmured, “I’m sorry.” It was the first time that he’d heard her voice in weeks, and even though he’s resolved to give her the space that she obviously needed, he’d missed her, and the sound of her voice washed over him like soothing summer rain after a violent thunderstorm, the balm that he’d been missing in the tumultuous days since he and Daisy had gone to confront Ward. “I’ve been…busy.”

It was unbelievably obvious that she was lying – he’d learned over the months of their friendship that she wasn’t great with deception to begin with, and she didn’t really seem to be trying much to improve on it at the moment.

Trying to ease the sudden tension that was filling the room, Fitz cleared his throat, then joked, “Y’know, I can’t believe that I’d never been shot before in my life, only to find myself on the receiving end of two gunshot wounds in as many months.” When Jemma merely winced, he decided that what he really couldn’t believe was that he couldn’t seem to stop himself from stupid jokes about getting shot. “I’m sorry, that was dumb. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”

With her eyes planted firmly on her tea, Jemma took another deep, shuddering breath, then launched into what was clearly a planned speech. “Fitz, I care about you so much that it…it scares me, but I can’t…I can’t do this, I can’t be with you if I have to wonder every night if this is going to be the one that finally takes you away from me. I can’t continue to be distracted at work, always wondering if your…your body will be on the next gurney I see. I just can’t do it, so even though it…it kills me that I’ll never be able to figure out what’s between us, I think…I think it’s best if we don’t see each other anymore.”

At first, Fitz was stunned, rendered completely speechless. At that particular moment, he couldn’t have responded to the declaration that came straight from his dreams and his nightmares even if his life had depended on it.

It was only when Jemma peered nervously up at him with tears rolling steadily down her cheeks, the sight as effective as a punch to the stomach, that he managed to find his words.

“You know, I received a very…strongly-worded phone call from my mum the other day. She told me that if it was really important to me, I could continue to put my life on the line, but…if being a police officer wasn’t what I really wanted to do, it’d be a damn shame if I lost my life over it.” He chuckled quietly, shaking his head as he admitted, “I also had a conversation with the chief, and after a lot of hard thinking…well, I’ve decided what’s best is for me to leave the precinct and go back to school for engineering.”

For a lengthy moment, Jemma merely gaped at him, at a clear loss for words. But, then she let out a teary, disbelieving laugh, pressing a hand to her mouth as her shoulders sagged from the release of a tension that she seemed to have been carrying for far too long. He almost wanted to say something more then, to try and return the favor, to tell Jemma just how much he cared for her, but he figured that she deserved some time to process his admission.

Plus, Fitz also kind of figured that he’d been a bit…obvious about his feelings for her, despite his best attempts to keep them under wraps, and so it probably went without saying.

However, it was only a few minutes more that suddenly, before Fitz could even register that she’d moved, Jemma had reached across the table and dragged him to her by the front of his shirt, and he didn’t even have time to gasp in shock before her lips were finally pressed against his.

Fitz gave a pleasantly startled moan against her mouth, hastily reaching out to catch himself on the table, lest he stumble and knock their tea over (though, honestly, even that likely couldn’t stop him from kissing Jemma now that he’d gotten his first real taste of her – truthfully, he was almost worried that nothing could stop him from kissing her, not even the end of world). Jemma’s hand shifted to grip his shoulder, sliding along the curve of it to cup the back of his neck and bury her fingers in his short curls.

When he parted his lips and gently tugged her bottom lip between them, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin, and she honest to god whimpered, Fitz had to wonder if he actually had died that day in Ward’s house and this was what was considered heaven.

Hell, even if it was, who cared? He was kissing Jemma Simmons – that was worth dying over, for sure.

When they eventually parted and their heavy, labored breaths filled the silence, Jemma nodded slyly at his injured leg and said pointedly, “You should probably have a doctor look at how that’s healing, just to be on the safe side.” Then, a coy smile curved her lips as she added, “But, I’ll have to ask you to remove your pants in order for me to do so.”

As a wide grin spread across Fitz’s face, he couldn’t help but remember all the times that his father had insisted that cops got all the women. Now, he was quite sure that his father had gotten it wrong – clearly, engineering was what got the ladies all hot and bothered.

He’d always known that he was in the wrong profession.