#stop asking me questions they’re providing the information you are after and you don’t hear it bc you’re asking questions

[zibah-ho]

watched knives out with my mother that experience alone is enough to make you want to do some family murdering

[valiantwarriorsquadroncomic]

MISSION 6

Within a classified meeting room inside the HARRIS, armed erasure unit guards surrounded the area as Andrew Norman reported to the secretary of defense and the C-USA president Melissa Dowell, and director of America’s intelligence agency, the ODS. “I’m thrilled that operation trifecta went along swimmingly” he said as a large, bat-like man in a large horned mask loomed next to him with a tiny thermos. “George smith and Sgt. Gustavo are as good as captured.”

“Excellent work, Mr.Norman.” Said Madame president. “We had some doubts that these special interests groups would cooperate, but it appears our fears were exaggerated. “You managed to arrange a coordination exercise that also doubled as a rescue of multiple POWS, needless to day, I’m very impressed.” Andrew saluted the president with a subtle smile.

“You honor me, Mrs. President.” He replied. “We shall commence a multi-pronged attack for both targets, QM’s spy network has damaged ALA intelligence, monitoring George smith’s every move.” He took another sip of tea from his thermos cup. “The HCA are destroying any airborne aircraft on sight, and even the FPU are providing support in regards to supply and resources.” A large map of prospera was projected within the meeting room. Several red dots blinked near prospera’s no-go zones. Giant red arrows blinked indicating movement, pointing to mainland south america while others simply stopped flashing. “Our intelligence agency and CNGS intelligence have detected multiple ALA bases being destroyed while large swathes of ALA members are fleeing to Argentina.” Andrew nodded as she brought up a middle aged German man with thinning hair. “The HCA defector responsible for the Berlin bombing has yet to flee to south America, HE is to be VWS-1’s next target.

“And what of my senior corps orders, madame president?” asked the mask man.

“BERSERKER, your team shall continue to apprehend WNM6 members and question them about the whereabouts of their main headquarters and leader. She answered. “Bring in high ranking members alive, but I have no concern how you deal with any ALA member that gets in your way.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Said BERSERKER, as he let out a low, menacing chuckle. The erasure unit soldiers surrounding him and Andrew began to sweat, those not in the usual mask peered at each other in fear. After dismissal, BERSERKER walked Andrew alone to his office.

“Quite a feat.” Said Andrew casually. “It’s hard to strike fear into erasure unit soldiers.” BERSERKER ducked behind a sign to ensure his 7 foot 10 frame wouldn’t smack into it. “Especially those two, who are refugees from Eastern Veledovia.”

“I’ve been informed about the veledovian conflict.” Said BERSERKER. “refugees from veledovia period are almost like spartans, hardened from being raised in abject poverty to mandatory army conscription at 18. He held open the door for his superior. “Even its government cabinet of both east and west have adamantly clung to independent status despite the inevitable submission to our union dedicated to global security to the rest of Europe.

“Many of my colleagues in the CNGS advisory council and the white house were very sore upon hearing President Juan’s decision to remain independent.” Andrew said in a neutral tone. “I don’t understand why, with the agreement with other independent countries for a balance of power, and east valadovia’s ally to global security status, we will be properly compensated in the near future.” Meanwhile in the small medical wing of the HARRIS, Joseph visited Logan after 10 days of his rescue, ducking under a broken directory sign.

“God damn, that thing’s been broken for weeks.” Joseph muttered to himself. “They have the cash to fix it, I don’t know why they just wont.” Joseph showed his badge to the guards, who noticed he had proper clearance and disinfection to enter the recovery room.

“Damn, they’re working your ass off, huh?” Said Logan, noticing Joseph’s tired expression.

“Yeah, they made us go through a boot camp so we’d be ready to snatch George smith from his bunker.” His fist clinched as George smith’s face flashed in his mind, but quickly returned to Logan. “Something weird happened to me.” Logan got quiet, as he was still trying absorb everything that happened. “I’ve been able to sense a person up to 65 meters now, and I’ve developed some sort of enhanced reflexes.” He said, remembering how he somehow outmaneuvered that ALPHA KOMMANDO member and was able to stab him in the neck. He tried to change the subject to hide the discomfort of the changes that made him feel less human. “You’ve really made a comeback since the last time I saw you.” Joseph said as Logan was doodling in a large sketchbook.

“That lion lady you talk about is a really fucking great doctor.” He said, showing a cartoon of Laleh to joseph. The cartoon depicted Laleh fully furred and walking on two legs, like something out of a cartoon. Logan had despited her accidentally bumping over a wooden chair with her hips, her face bright red as it fell. “She kept on apologizing to the head nurse, but this place feels like being crammed inside a little box.” He continued, showing another cartoon of him and fellow patients being shoved into a small cardboard box, the head doctor angrily jumping up and down on them. Joseph laughed upon the sight, and Laleh, while she was a bit embarrassed that her little table incident was immortalized, was overjoyed to see her friend in a joyful state. “Also, SO.AKROPOLIS was really thrilled that to see my art!” he said, showing several torn pages of his sketchbook.

“Let me guess, she took them?” joseph asked.

“She literally screamed with like an insane fangirl at a boyband concert and took all the drawings I made of her.” Laleh’s jaw dropped. “It scared the hell out of the guards.”

“She could’ve asked you first!” she with a snort, putting her hands on her hips. “I need to have a word with her, then!”

Logan held up his hands as joseph laughed at laleh’s reaction, but was also full of pride that at her becoming more assertive when someone or something upsets her. “It’s okay, really!” Logan said, reaching for his wallet, and pulling out a sizable bundle of cash. “She’s probably the best paying client I ever had!” the private room grew quiet as Logan noticed a look on Joseph’s face. “I know what you’re gonna ask me.” He said as Joseph’s expression severed.

“If it’s OK to ask, did…your mom know about your dad?” he asked. Logan put his sketchbook down.

“I think she probably knew, but didn't know what to do…” he replied quietly. "I mean...what the HELL was ANYONE supposed to do?" He sighed. "We both saw him get more weird about South Africa and stopped talking to his friends...he made me clean a bunch of guns we didn't even KNOW he had... Laleh's eyes widened in disbelief. "I think she was too scared to call the cops, and at least she was rescued from the ALA, thank god. He looked up to joseph again. “Those communist guys said that I have to wait a while to see her again. He drummed his delicate fingers on the hard back cover of the book. “I know she’ll be okay.” He finished with a hopeful, but sad smile.

“That’s what made me fall for you in high school.” Joseph said as he caressed Logan’s cheek. “The ability to see the bright side when things are fucked.” Laleh began to tear up, wiping her eyes.

“That’s just terrible.” She whimpered. “You’re so brave for dealing with all this with such stride. Logan shrugged sadly

“It’s not like collapsing to the floor and crying is gonna help my mom.” He replied giving laleh a box of tissues, joseph rubbing her hand to comfort her. Joseph’s gaze peered to Logan, his hands folded in front of him, staring into space with an empty smile. His scars pulsated rhythmically. The same vertical scars he and RM III had. It was apparent to him that what ever an “RM” was, he was one of them. “I heard they’re running your ass ragged at that bootcamp.”

“Yeah…” said joseph. “They’ve also got me wearing a new piece of armor. Joseph thought back to the first time he was brought to the bootcamp training room in prospera. “Their briefing room was just a dinky broom closet, and the CNGS special forces representative plopped the helmet in front of me.” He shuddered as he recalled the disturbing smile the Representative have. “Like, since RM II defected, it feels like they’re hoping I’ll be their replacement.” He recalled the face of the prosperan special forces operative who ran him like a dog with sniper drills and combat training. “They REALLY wanted to make sure that I was familiar with anti-material rifles.”

“Does the helmet look like mine?” Logan inquired, as laleh became silent. Joseph slowly came back from reality when he recalled the special forces operative taking a long drag from a cigarette as joseph sat exhausted parallel to him . He remembered the sad look on the operative’s scarred, wrinkled face he regaled joseph on horror stories from the prosperan civil war. He replayed the older man’s cynical, yet forlorn tone as he told joseph how it was prospera’s “proud tradition” to try and kill each other as shook himself out of his daze.

“It’s like yours…and it kind of looks like her.” He said, pointing his thumb back at her. A sudden BANG went off in the ceiling, causing joseph to instinctively flee toward the small table in the room and flip it over while Laleh thundered towards him and shielded her friend as if he was under attack. She desperately tried to search herself for a weapon as joseph pulled a combat knife from his vest. Logan’s eyes bulged as he saw the spectacle.

“Are…you guys fucking okay?”

Joseph and Laleh snapped out of their sudden trances. Laleh noticed she was foaming at the mouth and tried to wipe it off in a panic. Joseph also got a grip as he put his knife back into his vest.“Looks like everyone’s having a shit day.” Said Logan.

“It’s just been a little tough lately.” Joseph said. “I think all the horrific bullshit we’ve seen is catching up on us.”

“We should ask for another round of therapy before this mission, I feel that should assist in easing our troubled minds.” Laleh answered, attempting to smile and ease Joseph’s concerning glance at her manic state. Undoubtedly, he was being reminded of her breakdown on their very fist mission. “You’re understandably on edge because we’ll be confronting the man whose incompetence harmed you in a way he can’t take back.” Commented laleh, gently gesturing joseph. “I also assure you that I’m just a little tired, and to not be concerned about me.” Joseph nodded as the two made their way out. the flat screen TV down the hall flashed to a breaking bulletin, causing a hoard of CNGS personnel to flee to in in shock and horror. Joseph and laleh peeked around the hallway to understand the commotion. The TV swooped down to the FPU president, Il presidente Juan Hidalgo Ramirez fleeing and ducking behind a concrete barrier with several FPU soldiers as his podium was shot to pieces by sniper rifle fire. He was shoved into an APC which sped off with several other military and government vehicles. The crowds of prosperan citizens panicked and fled as FPU soldiers fired into the rooftops where several assassins fired back.

“Today at 11 am central time, president Juan Ramirez of the FPU was celebrating his country’s official independent nation status and the country’s military being mostly repaired after years of war.” Said and anchorwoman. “The ceremony ended with Independent Germany gifting an old destroyer to the prosperan navy. However, the celebration was cut short as an attempt was made on the president’s life.” The TV cut to several white men in balaclavas, reading off a piece of paper in English. “the American branch of the ALA, the largest and leading branch of the entire terrorist organization has claimed responsibility, as retaliation against attacks on their bases.” The room feel silent as joseph began to close the door. “What was supposed to be a celebration of the United Prosperan Federation pulling itself out of poverty and war was dashed to pieces.

Joseph felt his phone vibrate several times, and discovered fritz texted him 3 times in a row. He whipped out his phone as he tried to steady his nerves from his sudden PTSD episode. From the corner of his eye he saw laleh’s fearful gaze as he opened his messages.

“THE FPU’S MINSTER OF DEFENSE ALMOST GOT KILLED BY AMERICAN ALA OPERATIVES” “THOSE NEO NAZI BASTARDS LITERALLY JUST DROVE UP AND THREW A PIPE BOMB AT HIS VILLA” “FPU GOVERNMENT CABINET IS IN AN UPROAR.”

Joseph suddenly felt cold at the recent developments, as if something terrible was looming on the horizon. Not helping things was that tomorrow morning was the date that the VWS would attack the airfield and raid the George Smith’s shelter. Meanwhile in the Harris hanger, Veronica barked at a crew of her personal guard as they loaded an escape craft into the underbelly of the RISENFLEDERMAUS. She flipped through digitally generated 3d schematics as her aircraft’s engines were tweaked to accommodate the new weight, the face plate being freshly replaced. She chewed through her pen as sweat dripped from her brow. The extra engineers she hired barked at each other in farsi and English. Her brother scrolled through a news article about the prosperan government uproar, a Representative demanding that America take action against the ALA’s recruitment and troop dispersal as it was founded and staffed mostly by white Americans. Fritz approached his overwhelmed sister, noticing the chaos.

“Is everything OK?” he asked as she tightened a bolt on the escape vessel.

“NO, OF COURSE NOT!” She yelled. “DO I LOOK OK?” she continued, waving at the escape craft being finalized. “I’M LUCKY I EVEN GOT SOME EXTRA HELP WITH INDEPENDENT IRAQ AND INDEPENDENT AFGHANISTAN’S AERONAUTIC ENGINEER CORPS!” the mechanics occasionally watched over their shoulder at the giant monster woman as they finished their work. A worker dragged over a chair with some headache medicine and a cold towel to their boss. “Thanks, you are very sweet.” Said veronica, pulling out a business card. “Email this number so you can all properly get the overtime you deserve.” The engineers began cleanup, hurriedly rushing around fritz as he noticed the RISENFLEDERMAUS’s new addition. “A second aircraft.” Fritz stated. “No, it’s an escape vessel.” “It looks too…polished and advanced to be some escape pod.” “Don’t tell me you’re complaining about me caring about safety!” “I’m not.” Replied fritz, sitting next to her. “You’ve been testing and tweaking the RISENFLEDERMAUS for days with this thing attached, not to mention how you’ve run enough safety checks to get three separate certifications that it’s safe for field and combat use.” Veronica took a giant swig of water from her giant water bottle, a worker gently dabbing her head with the cold towel. “It’s about what happened to mom, correct?” He said, looking right through her. She shot up in surprise, frightening her worker.

“She almost got shot down, and told me it shook her so badly, she’s going to retire to politics.” The giant monster woman took the towel for herself. “Thank you Khalid, you’re an angel.” She said, pulling a large stack of money and shoving into his pocket. “Get your wife and mother-in-law something nice.” Veronica rose from the chair wearily. “FINISH YOUR WORK AND LEAVE IN AN HOUR, THE HCA ENGINEERS WILL FINISH THE REST, YOU’VE DONE ENOUGH FOR ME THIS PAST WEEK AND A HALF.” Fritz unwrapped a large chunk of dried and cured ham, a favorite treat of hers when she became stressed. She smiled sincerely at her brother’s kindness before eating the large piece of meat into two clean bites. The two continued to conversation in a private room. “Got another call from some of the old farts in the HCA court.” She said in a bored tone, pulling out a tablet, her work email filled with angry messages.” “YoU’RE NOt SUPPoseED tO pAY thEM EXTRA” she said in a mocking, crotchety tone. “THey’RE SUpoosed TO wOrk PRO-boNO To PaY OFF HCA iNTERvenTION FoR StaBLIZing THieR cOUNTRIES” she snorted as she sent the messages to spam. “We’re supposed to support our fellow independent countries getting back on their feet after years of instability, not hold that over their heads until they die.” She logged off her email. “Worthless, old bastards.” She added.

“The ALA may be fleeing from prospera and taking their high command leaders with them” said fritz as Veronica began to finally cool down, but they’re certainly enraged that they’ve effectively lost the war.” Veronica held her head in her hand as she swiped through a tablet. “Ironically, the more violent they act and the more they flee to other countries, the more incentive other countries aid in the fight against them.” He swiped to several news websites. “CHILE JOINS CNGS AS ALA OPERATIVES FLEE TO SOUTH AMERICA” “ARGENTINA BECOMES ALLY TO GLOBAL SECURITY AS ALA ACTIVITY SKYROCKETS ON MAINLAND SOUTH AMERICA FROM THEIR EXODUS.” It’s like watching a chess player with a single pawn futilely move their final standing piece as they’re cornered into checkmate. Fritz said cheerily. “Damned if they fight, damned if they flee, they’ve effectively brought mortal enemies together.” Veronica’s left air flopped to one side, lost in thought. “Once smith and Gustavo are captured…HE’s going to be the next target. Her ears shot up again, as her eyes became blood red. “I’m speaking the truth, he had fled to prospera and had been hiding for some time after he…”

“…masterminded the Berlin massacre.” She hissed. “I wouldn’t doubt he’d just use prospera is a temporary stop to flee to Argentina.” Her eyes slowly faded to a light orange. “I just hope those ancient old farts hold our services to the VWS over the CNGS’s heads either.”

“I never expected you to say something positive about the coalition.” Inquired fritz.

“No, I don’t give a fuck about those power hungry busybodies.” She answered. “I do however give a shit of they try to run Nathan, joseph or laleh into the ground or treat them like busboys.” Veronica clicked off her tablet. “Speaking of nathan, he’s been a little more quiet than usual.”

“He’s probably busy.” Fritz assured her, as her eyes returned to their regular, putrid yellow color. “He’s probably also receiving the word that Schmidt is to be pursued and captured as soon as possible after we apprehend smith.”

“Of course!” she answered, once again in her confident tone, trying to pretend that she didn’t hear Nathan’s screaming and crying last night that chilled her to the bone. Fritz noticed her discomfort.

“There’s been this eerie sense of dread since mother almost died, and I’m here for you.” He clasped his hands and looked around cautiously, noting his sister’s compromised state. “Perhaps I should change the subject.” Fritz’s hands fell to his side as his mood seemed to drop. “From what our informants on the HARRIS said, apparently…he’s in a romantic relationship with that Logan fellow he rescued.” Fritz’s eyes faded from the usual piercing yellow to a pale white.

“That fucking sucks, I know you were hell bent on treating him right.” Said veronica, heavily, but empathetically thumping fritz on the back.

“I’ll at least let him know of my feelings once things calm down.” Fritz replied, thinking of the BIOMENACE ALICE statue kit he had bought and a bouquet of roses when he prepared to let confess his love. “I know I can’t be his, but at least I’ll put this beast to rest so I won’t stare forlorn at his beautiful visage from a distance.” Before he walked away, he fumbled through his bag. “Mother wanted you to have these.” The young man presented his sister a large box and a small container covered in CNGS warnings. She wants you to present them to joseph.” Veronica quietly observed the foreboding packages.

“This can only mean that shit is about to get drastic.” She replied. Throughout the Harris, more activity bustled as the day of reckoning for George smith arrived. He was now in a “bunker” which seemed more like a poorly kept prison. a series of blotted out faces were chattering amongst each other. APOTHECARY had been suspected of foul play during his actions of the Fort NFELHEIM Subterranean bio-weapons accident, which set back their RENAISSANCE MAN serum experiments. Am dist the chattering, the center figure, an old man with a blotted out face, held up his hand. The rest of the figures suddenly fell silent with an instant. “GEORGE SMITH.” Said the voice.

“I HAVE COME TO THE UNANIMOUS DECISION THAT YOU ARE NOT GUILTY OF SABOTAGE OR DELIBERATE INTERFERENCE TOWARDS THE PATH OF THE ARYAN PARADISE.” APOTHECARY let out a sight of relief as he slumped back into his chair. “HOWEVER, YOU LET INEXPERIENCED STAFF HANDLE CHEMICAL HZ-98R, CAUSING THE UNNEEDED DEATH OF 5 MEDICAL STAFF MEMBERS, FORCING NFELHEIM STAFF TO EXECUTE A PREMATURE EVACUATION, AND LEAVING LARGE TRACES OF PERSONAL INFORMATION AND MATERIALS TO BE SNATCHED UP BY THAT BLASTED COALITION, INCLUDING RENAISSANCE MAN 4.” APOTHECARY froze up again. “YOUR PUNISHMENT IS DEMOTION TO COMMON MEDICAL STAFF, AND THE LOSS OF YOUR ALPHA KOMMANDO POSITION AND PRESTIGE.” A bombing run caused the monitors to flicker. “ONCE YOU ARE EVACUATED, THESE PUNISHMENTS WILL BE IMPLEMENTED POST HASTE. Gustavo’s video feed flickered as his safehouse was also getting strafed by bombing runs from the HCA and their advanced jets.

“You’re also working to get me OUT of this hellhole, my New Fuhrer?” he asked meekly. The older man paused for just a moment.

“HOLD OUT AGAINST THE ENEMY, AND WE WILL SEND SOMEONE TO GET YOU, AWAIT FURTHER ORDERS.” The old man turned to the other blotted out members. “OUR NEXT SUBJECT OF DEBATE SHALL BE OUR UPCOMING RAID ON CNGS FACILITIES FOR MATERIALS NEEDED FOR OUR ABOMINATION PROGRAM.” “WNM6 SHALL BE THE HERALDS OF THE ARYAN PARADISE.” The entire monitor flickered off as more jets flew above the bunker.

“A raid on the coalition.” Sneered APOTHECARY. “With those white sovereign lunatics in high command gaining more influence, I won’t be surprised they’d approve of something so needlessly stupid and costly.” He clenched his fists. “Mark my words, those blood thirsty MANIACS will be the death of this organization.” Within his barely disguised prison, APOTHECARY watched the footage of joseph encouraging Logan to keep fighting and to keep living. He looked back at his schematics for his abominations, the ALA sympathizers volunteering to be irreversibly changed to monstrosities to fight for the aryan paradise. He held his head in his hands as the weight of his misdeeds, and the courage and humanity joseph exhibited despite being a subhuman, racial untermnesch.

An alarm bellowed throughout the bunker as ALA communication experts had picked up the RISENFLEDERMAUS, and an unidentified aircraft with a large red star. The radio chatter picked up from central command showed the ALA soldiers and the other American auxiliaries panicking. Screams that “The Red scar and his pet lioness demon” were going to claim their souls. APOTHECARY adjusted his mask, and loaded his handgun as the VWS and E-12 touched down, HCA jets were surely destroying their own aircraft and providing cover fire. He was finally ready. Ready to surrender to the coalition, and he prepared himself move quickly. declaring surrender with being surrounded by ALA staff would mean certain death. Now he had to face the more deadly of the Renaissance men besides RM III. He had nowhere left to run, except to the very man whose life he had irreversibly harmed…

Upon the RISENFLEDERMAUS, Veronica swooped down to the least defended part of the airfield’s outskirts, joseph didn’t know whether to feel excited or disgusted. A mess of conflicting emotions swirled within him as he prepared to meet the man robbed him of normality forever. “I bet you’re excited to get your vengeance!” veronica called cheerily from the cockpit.” Joseph twiddled his thumbs as he gazed into the air.

“ I’m glad to put a stop to him before he hurts more people, but this is about justice.”

“You don’t have to be so high and mighty about this!” veronica called, preparing to land. “He’s gutter slime and doesn’t deserve any sort of mercy!” Nathan could detect an argument coming up.

“Oh, boy” Nathan muttered to himself.

“This isn’t my problem.” Fritz thought to himself, flipping through a new philosophy book, trying to be not annoyed. “God, I wish to desperately to just tell her off on these rants, but it simply isn’t my fight.”

“ You’re right in that he’s irredeemable.” Joseph replied. “Frankly if he dropped dead in front of me, if the ENTIRE ALA dropped dead in front of me, I wouldn’t give two shits.” Laleh grew uncomfortable at Joseph’s repressed bloodlust. “But I want to do things the right way, to get him as soon as possible, and get him shoved in a miserable little cell until he dies.”

“Frankly, I’d just blow his head off.” Veronica said. “If I confronted a man who took the lives of people I cared about, I’d probably put his head on a pike or sit him in front of a firing squad.” She let loose a disquieting, subdued cackle. “You should see the faces of the war criminals that CNGS hands to us, their reaction to THE WALL is the funniest shit ever.”

“That’s pretty fucking excessive.” Joseph sat up, annoyed. Before continuing he, peered into laleh’s worried gaze behind her helmet. He sighed and sat back down. “That’s just my opinion, and that’s all I have to say in the matter.”

Nathan shot a look at veronica, in which she also stood down. “OK, let’s drop this spat then.” Nathan smiled at her, giving her a thumbs up, internally sighing in relief that things ended before they got ugly. Joseph clutched his head, and his scars flared. “WATCH OUT!” he screamed, causing Veronica to sit back in her chair.

“Relax, I know its your wacky psychic powers going off, but we’re perfectly fine.” A small alarm blared as veronica continued to remain calm. “This thing can take whatever dinky little rocket the ALA throws at us.” The small alarm suddenly exploded into a blaring scream as the inside of the cockpit flashed red. “Oh, Jesus.” She wheezed. “HANG ON TO SOMETHING.!” she screamed, violently turning the vessel as a giant, black missile flew past her, only for it swing back around. “HEAT SEEKER!” she barked. “SON OF A BITCH!” she activated the RISENFLEDERMAUS’s automated machine guns, latching onto the missile, and destroying it. No sooner was it destroyed, another one was fired at her, followed by two more. “IT’S GONNA GET HAIRY!” she called out, as oxygen masks dropped to the passengers. Unfortunately, an engine burst into flame as a missile hit successfully, causing veronica to make an emergency landing. The automated system sprayed powerful extinguishing chemicals, thankfully stopping the inferno from spreading. She tried to regain control of the atmosphere of the RISENFLEDERAMUS, as everyone was terrified. “N-no problem!” she said, though nobody seemed convinced as she landed the jet. “I-I’m not scared, I’m j-just a little rattled!” she said, her hands trembling. This was the first time the RISENFLEDERMAUS sustained significant damage, with everyone in state of shock. Veronica sweat underneath her helmet, recalling her mother’s nightmarish near death as her own jet had caught fire. Nobody was receptive to the desperate attempt to make light of a desperate situation. The gang hobbled out of the downed aircraft, fritz puking out of stress and horror as laleh addressed any minor wounds. She sighed with relief as she checked joseph last.

“Nothing fractured or broken.” She said as she put a small bandage around Joseph’s wrist. “Physically, everyone else is OK.”

“Thank god.” Said joseph, rubbing his bandaged wrist.”

“However…” laleh said, looking back at veronica, impatiently pacing as nathan relayed their situation to a local QM field commander. “In regards to a psychological health…some of us are in need of more attention and care than others.”

“I’m trying to reach them as soon as possible, second lieutenant Gaertner.” He said gravely. “Fritz, scout the perimeter around the jet.” Fritz saluted as he dashed off again with super human speed.

“I-I could start repairs!” Veronica tried to explain. “I’m sure I could find some scrap to patch up the eng-”

Nathan put up his hand, causing her to shut up immediately. Joseph worriedly side-eyed the grim nature of two best friends in a rocky development. Nonetheless, he tried to sense any danger from anyone he psychically dowsed. “It would take too long, George smith is bound to be on some sort of escape vehicle soon, Nathan replied, the sweat on his brow betraying his level-headedness. “OK, understood.” “Thanks, meet up with you soon.” Nathan clicked off his ear-piece. “We’re gonna meet up with some E-12 soldiers to the east near the airfield, they got someone coming by to guard the RISENFLEDERMAUS.” He announced as Fritz returned, panting and taking a rest. “2nd lieutenant, make sure you don’t over-tire yourself, we can’t afford to have you weak in the middle of uncharted enemy territory.”

“Of course, Kapitän.” Fritz replied taking a large swig of water from his canteen.” Nothing unusual yet. No sooner than he said that, joseph clutched his head in pain.

“Oh fuck, what now?” Nathan griped loading his handgun.

“THE SCARRED BEAST SLITHERS TOWARDS US.” He whispered ominously. Laleh picked up on the term.

“That… terrible blond man from our mission when we rescued GHOST FANG…” she said, fearfully aiming her grenade launcher into the forest.

“Just keep us posted on his whereabouts, buddy.” Said nathan, putting his hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “We got to drag smith out of his burrow and bring him to justice.” Joseph shook out of his trance and nodded, training his gun in a certain direction as the gang made their way east. Nathan could see that they didn’t need a map to the airfield as HCA jets pummeled the airfield with napalm, large flashes of light signaled the decimation.

“I know you’re upset about the RISENFLEDERMAUS being in a sorry state.” Fritz said, trying to comfort his older sister. “You’ve put much love and craftsmanship into it, it must be terrible that you-” Veronica whipped around in subdued fury.

“Don’t treat me like that sniveling, weak little girl who used to cry at the drop of a hat.” She hissed at Fritz. “I’m just rattled that those MARXISTS will scuff up my masterpiece with their grubby hands.” She marched faster to get ahead of her brother, who continued to have his submachine gun primed and ready, its laser sight sweeping the darkness. That is, until his infrared scope picked up a humanoid form. Joseph’s scars flared as he dashed by fritz’s side. A familiar shaped stepped out of the foliage.

“Hell of a welcome party.” Said RM III, circling the VWS like a vulture to a dying animal. “You guys look pretty scared about something.” He said, tenting his fingers. “Did one of your fellow freaks die or something?”

Veronica lost her temper as she grabbed him by the throat, pinning him against a tree. She unsheathed her combat knife. “I’m not in the mood for your childish games!” She growled, pointing the knife inches away from his ribcage.”

“The combat armor’s new!” he said, peering back at fritz. “I know you call him childish, but you guys are bit too old to be playing dress-up?” I chuckled in Veronica’s face. “You HCA pricks always won’t shut up about knighthood, even though you’re a bunch of backwards, role-playing losers.” He turned to joseph. “Oh cute, they’re trying to strong-arm you into being their replacement Renaissance man.”

“Stand down, 1st lieutenant.” Nathan ordered, slowly approaching RM III, his hand gun trained on the blond soldier’s head. All of a sudden, joseph could sense danger from the trees, but not before RM III drew a handgun and shot the mysterious assailant on the head. The body of a poltergeist commando dropped from the canopy. The VWS stared at the abomination before immediately looking back at RM III.

“You’re welcome.” He said, putting up his handgun in a waist holster.

“What’s your game?” Nathan demanded, his gun still trained on RM III’s head.

“I’ve been separated from that miserable old fart, and I even I know wondering around this place alone is a death sentence.” His smug smile dropped as he grabbed his shoulder, a dark red stain formed under it. “Can’t believe that prick made me ambush that patrol alone.” He murmured mentally. “I swear that asshole is going to me killed one day.” Joseph noticed the wound on his shoulder and a bruise on RM III’s neck.

“Did RM II do that to you?” he asked, prompting RM III to pull his hand from the wound, and pull up his jacket.

“Don’t you have some have some prick to abduct?” he shot back. Everyone look toward nathan what to do. Time was of the essence, and smith could escape.

“If I wanted to kill you guys, you’d be worm food by now.” Said RM III, smugly turning towards The captain. “If you shove me into cuffs or sedate me until I’m a drooling zombie, that’s one less capable soldier.” A bead of sweat dripped of Nathan’s face. “You’re in a hostile place, coalition dog.” “You need all the capable soldiers you can to make a break to your allies.” Nathan refused to break sight from RM III or lower his weapon.

“Drop him and let’s go.” He instructed veronica.

“Is that wise, captain?” said fritz.

“If he tries anything, break his legs.” He replied. “Or shoot his kneecaps, whatever stops him from scampering off.”

“As you wish, captain.” Fritz answered. Veronica threw RM III to the ground, as they dashed towards the rendezvous point. RM III lagged behind, his body reeling from being tossed like a ragdoll. It wasn’t long until the VWS encountered heavy abominations, supplementing the ALA soldiers and their mercenary forces. Flashbangs went off as fritz gunned down hoards of neo nazis commandos, making sure to pace himself to avoid collapsing from exhaustion. Joseph used his danger sensing premonitions to snipe into the canopy as more poltergeist commandos dropped like flies. Joseph suddenly sensed danger, using his agility to leap from a heavy abomination that was lying in wait from foliage. Before he had a chance to kill him, RM III cut through several soldiers with his bayoneted assault rifle, leaping with superhuman agility of his own to drive the bayonet into the abomination’s skull. The abomination tried to pull the bayonet out in vain, only to fall backwards onto the trench. An audience of ALA mercenaries, demoralized from a lack of provisions and proper support watched in horror as RM RM III took out a large, bizarre looking knife. He began to decapitate the abomination, still clinging to life despite its grievous wound. It tried to let out a final scream as RM III finally sliced that last bit of muscle and tendon. Laleh was aghast as joseph ignored the vicious super soldier to concentrate fire on more marksmen. RM III gripped the decapitated head in his hand.

“I hope my techniques have left an impression on you.” He said proudly as joseph reloaded.

“Yeah, the impression that you need some goddamn help.” Veronica leapt on top of the trench, letting loose a barrage of heavy machine gun fire, signaling to joseph and nathan to stay back for their safety. Some of the ALA soldiers, were from the European chapter, some became frozen in their tracks at the sight of the giant bat woman.

“IT’S THE IRON EMPRESS!” a solder screamed in a thick German accent. “WE’RE ALL FUCKED, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!” only the abomination soldiers were left to fight the VWS.

“FIELD COMMANDER, THE BULK OF OUR FORCE HAS FLED!” Yelled the heavy abomination commander.

“You are to stay and fight as well.” Answered their leader.

“WE DON’T HAVE SUFFICIENT NUMBERS TO FIGHT BACK!” he insisted, as the gunfire drew closer. “WE’RE STRETCHED TOO THIN!”

“You orders are to prevent the CNGS dogs from reaching their allies, you are to be the backbone of the ALA.”

“THE BAT ABOMINATIONS AND LION ABOMINATIONS ARE BREAKING THROUGH THE LINES!” “WE NEED BACK UP N-” the heavy abomination was cut off as one of Veronica’s bullets made contact with his head, splattering skull and brains onto other abominations.

“THE ENEMY ABOMINATIONS HAVE BROKEN THROUGH!” garbled a poltergeist commando, as he futilely fired upon laleh as RM III and joseph used her as mobile cover. Joseph was honestly a bit shocked that his best friends and the other animalistic super soldiers were abominations.

“So, have you finally figured out you’re basically the fourth Renaissance man?” sneered the blond super soldier.

“Oh, that’s what that meant.” Joseph said. “I suppose that makes sense.” RM III became annoyed at Joseph’s lack of shock. “The Renaissance man program was a super soldier program created by the coalition to cut down on specialized labor costs.” He said smugly sniping another poltergeist commando. "They wanted a soldier that could pull off multiple roles at once, and subjected them to a nightmarish training regiment to boot." "Plenty of guys died to perfect it.” Nathan was furious as he was going to let joseph know about the program in coalition guidelines. Laleh thundered in front of joseph, allowing her friend the safety as he reloaded once again. Joseph tuned the vicious soldier out as he continued his marksmen duties, saving fritz from an enemy sniper as he killed a poltergeist commando from stabbing his sister. RM III grabbed him, getting in his face. “You didn’t listen to a fucking word I said.” He barked, his face turning slightly red.

“I’m sure the CNGS has shit it’s keeping quiet about.” Joseph said, “I’m know I’m probably an “RM” thing or whatever, but I also know you could be full of shit.” Laleh grabbed RM III, and slammed him into the ground once again, ferociously growling.

“DO NOT TRY THAT AGAIN.” She sneered. “YOU WILL REGRET IT.” RM III scrambled to get back up, assisting in breaking through the lines as the VWS took cover using an overturned vehicle shell.

“Hey man, I just want to tell you the truth.” He said as joseph reloaded. “The CNGS lies to your face on a regular basis, anything to maintain their burgeoning neoliberal empire.” Joseph proceeded to ignore him, casing RM III to get even more exacerbated. “You’re better off with me and the old man, we’ll fight for our survival, not some stupid organization of hypocritical, bleeding hearts.” “The CNGS won’t ever let the choke chain off you, since you basically became a Renaissance man from stolen CNGS bio-slop that went airborne.” This finally got Joseph’s attention, as he shot back at RM III with a vicious stare. “Just dump the self-righteous losers who are trying to save a crappy world full of stupid, useless people.” “At least you get to retire and put your feet up and enjoy the fireworks as the unwashed masses kill each other.”

“I’ve had enough of your shitty, selfish attitude.” Joseph spat back. “The world’s in a bad place right now, even without the ALA.” As the gang drew closer to their goal, the ALA were suddenly sideswiped by QM soldiers. “I know damn well that putting George smith in prison won’t magically make the world a better place, and I know damn well that even when the ALA collapses that Nazis won’t disappear.” RM III was actually caught off guard by Joseph’s rough tone. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to try to stop terrible people from doing terrible things.” A large green APC smashed through the underbrush, and cut down the abominations, forcing them back. “My life will never be the same again, and putting away smith won’t bring my friends back or reunite me with my parents.” RM III feigned annoyance, trying to conceal the pain of rejection. “At least I’m in a position to help others, and I can at least try to make the CNGS less conniving.” RM III was completely silent as no one had ever brought up the futility of his viciousness. “I’ll never join you, and I pray to god you get it through your skull that we have NOTHING in common.”Joseph’s scars flared again and proceeded to shoot into an unassuming pile of ALA corpses. RM III was simply speechless at this evisceration of his self-centered, social Darwinist lifestyle, but soon shook out of it when several bodies slid of a figure emerging from the corpses. It appeared to be another ALA abomination, but donned in a white mask, 3 vertical eye-holes on each side. The abomination wore large headphones with a single radio antennae on the right side. In the dead center of the mask, a large proboscis unfolded itself, its base resembling the remains of a human tongue. Blood poured from the bullet wound, staining the mask a dark red. RM III cracked a wicked grin as he dashed off to the dying monstrosity, digging his bayonet into its neck.

“Finally found that freak he kept bitching about!” RM III said, slicing through its neck muscles. “Thanks for clearing my path, idiots!” he sneered, tossing a flash grenade, causing the VWS to dive for cover. “You’re a fucking idiot for caring about a world that doesn’t care about you, hope it doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass!” RM III yelled to joseph as the super soldier disappeared into the jungle. “ITS NOT MY FAULT IF YOU DIE FOR SOME SHITTY, POWER-TRIPPING POLITICIANS AND THE SLACK-JAWED, UNCARING MASSES!” “I GAVE YOU A WAY OUT!” Despite his boasting, he winced at the bruise he received from a beating from RM II. A bizarre feeling rose in his chest as he saw the VWS fought to protect one another in the heat of battle. “Idiots.” He grumbled as the readjusted the refrigerated backpack filled with stolen abomination limbs and organs. “Relying on other people is a the saddest thing a person can do.” Joseph could sense RM III vanishing as the green APC opened up, revealing a muscular monster woman with a fleshy crest on her face, and large pincers that unfolded from her mouth.

“VEE!” she called out in a husky voice, waving at veronica. “MOVE YOUR ASS!”

“MAXILLA!” she answered cheerfully, rushing towards the muscular monster woman, and wrapping her in a hug.

“Save it for the after party, vee.” Said maxilla, gently pulling veronica off of her, cheerfully nudging the bat woman with her fist. “You guys got a prick haul off.” Before the VWS piled into the APC, several attack helicopter sped by. Joseph squinted at the copter’s insignia. Painted on it side was the words “FAFPU” as it sped off to the airfield. Moments later, Joseph and laleh leaned back, sighing with relief in the plush seats of the APC. Veronica began pestering nathan about the whereabouts of her jet, only for her to hush her as he got into contact with the senior officers. Fritz stared sadly and forlorn at joseph beneath his mask, as he pulled out a small diary to write in.

“This is the captain of VWS-1, we have successfully joined with the QM escort and on our way to the airfield, do you copy?” a voice crackled back.

“This is MacMillan.” Their special forces coordinator answered. “Good to hear, the senior coordinator would have my ass on a silver plate if you freaks wound up dead.” Nathan let out a chuckle at his ex-Co’s insensitivity.

“Any word from senior coordinator? He asked, as Veronica tapped her foot in the floor impatiently. “I just wanna check in to see of the senior officer corps’s mission to get Sgt. Gustavo is going well.”

“Extremely well.” MacMillan said, turning towards his senior counterpart. The large, masked bat-like man quietly observed a live video feed of the senior officers. Sgt. Nguyen knocked down helicopters with her short ranged, but devastating laser weapon built into her cybernetic arm. Equinox, the Japanese man and her 2nd in command, swiftly killed anyone with his handgun and combat knife that attempted to fire upon AKROPOLIS. GHOST FANG, recovered from his near fatal brush with RM II, took out poltergeist commandos with ferocity and agility. The large badger woman destroyed several bridges and protective fort walls, blasting hole into an underground tunnel that would lead to Gustavo. Finally, Charlotte descended from the sky, using several parachutes and her combat robot’s jet engine to slow her descent. However, she fell to earth at a noticeable speed, as if she purposely wanted to collide into the enemy base. The ALA soldiers screamed as the enormous hunk of metal acted as an improvised bomb, and were sent broken and flying as the monster woman made contact. The giant metallic beast was coated in blood, which only caused even more panic amongst the ALA. MacMillan looked away as Charlotte slowly removed an enormous assault rifle from a compartment, and blew away enemy armor and abominations. Body parts, blood, and organs splattered across the facility. “A bit too well, if you ask me.” He murmured in a concerned to Nathan.

“It’s shit like this that makes me glad we’re not fighting with the Coalition anymore.” MAXILLA said cracking her knuckles. “Some of our guys complain about being your allies, but it beats being labeled as a terrorist organization and threat to global security.” She rubbed a scar on her hand. “Don’t miss those days at all.”

“By the way, your 1st lieutenant’s little toy has been escorted into a QM safe-house, I know she’s probably pissing you off about that.” Nathan gave veronica thumbs up, and she soon fell back in her chair in relief.

“Alrighty, keep us posted, we should be arriving at the airfield soon.” He concluded, ending the communication. Joseph began to sense George Smith’s presence as they passed through a QM checkpoint.

“Hey uh…sorry for fighting with you before we crashed.” Veronica said. “He’s the person who hurt you and killed your friends, so while PERSONALLY I’d rather see him shot…you do you.” Despite being disturbed by her bloodlust, Joseph accepted his comrade’s attempt at an apology.

“I get it.” Joseph said. “Sounds like you’re also got a person to confront who did terrible things.” Veronica looked back at her friend Maxilla, who simply tugged her vest collar at the situation.

“You’re absolutely not one of those sad, mediocre apologists I run into with my own faction.” She said again. “So many times I’ve been told by the old farts in the HCA that excessive violence against the Nazis makes you as bad as them.” She leaned next to joseph, giving him a little side hug. “You actually WANT these bastards to be punished and you more than anyone here deserve to be disgusted by them.” Joseph smiled, which made fritz’s heart flutter momentarily before he got a grip and accepted joseph would never love him the way he wanted to be loved.

“I find myself occasionally enjoying killing these racist freaks.” Joseph confessed. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t like you in anyway at all.”

“And at least we’re not that blond coward who doesn’t care about human suffering or that abysmal state that the world is in right now.” She added. Maxilla whipped out a small portable radio device that was attached to a smart phone. She began tweaking it and swiping the screen with her finger until she heard a panicked voice.

“THOSE COMMIES BASTARDS BOMBED OUR FUCKING ESCAPE TUNNELS!” “THEIR ABOMINATIONS CHARGED RIGHT THROUGH US AND BLEW IT TO HELL!” Maxilla smiled to herself as she swiped her finger again.

“I figured we might get board on our little car trip, so how about a nice radio show called “we jacked these stupid fuck’s radio frequencies” She fiddled with the device again. A Englishman’s voice called out next;

“THE MAD SCAR’S BEEN SIGHTED NEAR THE AIRFIELD!” “WE’RE DOOMED!”

““I’M NOT SHITTING YOU! THE SCARRED HUNTER KILLED LIKE 6 SNIPERS WITH PERFECT HEAD-SHOTS BEFORE HIS GANG OF FREAKS KIDNAPPED ARTIFEX! “WE’RE FUCKED!” bellowed a man with a thick, Bostonian accent. Maxilla clicked the device again.

“THE RED SCAR KILLED WHITE WOLVERINE AND THE GREAT CUTLASS, I’M FUCKING OUT OF HERE!” Joseph suddenly remembered when he killed two snipers with a sword insignia and an insignia consisting of animal teeth. Another transmission got picked up with someone only muttering “Fröhliche Kaiserin.” Again and again. The VWS could hear another prosperan helicopter fly above them. Joseph looked around to see the multiple factions he had witnessed come together to stop the neo nazi threat of the ALA. For a moment, he was actually hopeful that people could put aside their differences to do the right thing. The VWS had finally reached the interior of the airfield, joseph once again picking up on George Smith’s presence. The green APC came to a screeching halt as URSA and another E-12 operative finished demolishing a cadre of American ALA soldiers.

“NATHAN.” Said Andrew Norman. “THERE IS AN ALPHA KOMMANDO MEMBER IN CHARGE OF THE BUNKER’S DEFENSES.” URSA provided joseph several photos of woman in the same sort of black camo and red armor as VELVET and the other abomination soldiers. SHE’S THE DEFENSE EXPERT OF ALPHA KOMMANDO, SHE SET UP MANY OF THE TRAPS AND SABOTAGED WEAPONS AROUND THE COMPOUND WHERE YOU APPREHENDED ARTIFEX. Joseph flashed back to the exploding rocket launcher that nearly killed veronica.

“You got it Andrew, we’ll watch out for her.”

“YOU ARE TO KILL HER ON SIGHT.” Nathan’s eyes widened at Andrew’s request. “AS WELL AS ANY AND ALL ALPHA KOMMANDO MEMBERS, INCLUDING N.1685.”

“Well, orders are orders.” Replied Nathan, his panicked eyes betrayed the concern for his superior’s blood-thirst.

“MY SUPERIORS HAVE DECLARED EACH OF THEM A LIABILITY.” “NO CAPTURE.” “NO NEGOTIATION.” “KILL.ON.SIGHT.”Joseph was perturbed by Andrew’s to the point order. His captain rallied them alongside the other E-12 members and QM soldiers as they headed towards the bunker.“MS GAERTNER.” Andrew said, speaking specifically to veronica. “IT’S TIME YOU GAVE THE CARE PACKAGE YOUR MOTHER GAVE YOU TO MR. BAKER.” Veronica felt around in her pack for a small box of sniper rifle ammunition. It read “ANTI-HOMO CENTONIBUS ROUNDS, ONLY TO BE USED AFTER GIVEN PROPER AUTHORIZATION, CODE 5-B512. A small note was folded inside, written in German, adorned with the HCA heraldry and an iron cross.

“THOUGH I AM UNABLE TO BE WITH YOU RIGHT NOW, I HAVE PERSONALLY TESTED ITS EFFECTIVENESS AGAINST THE FASCIST TRAITORS THAT DARE STAND IN THE WAY OF HCA BUSINESS.” GIVE THEM TO YOUR MARKSMAN, AND MAY HE SWIFTLY KILL THE FASCIST WHO TRIED TO TAKE YOU AWAY FROM ME.” Meanwhile, RM III could sense RM II’s presence as he made his way to the rendezvous point when he detected a presence hiding near a boulder. An ALA field captain in the same chocolate chip camo and dull red vest as the rest of his men crept out of his hiding spot.

“Renaissance man III!” he said with excitement. “To think I’d meet a fellow ubermensch in this hellhole! RM III stared blankly, his mask dripped with condensation and blood. “You don’t know how MUCH our organization respects you!” “you simply kill and take what you want without mercy or pity, no matter how much blood you must shed!” he said excitedly. “A true example of Aryan superior-” RM III said nothing as he took out his handgun and shot the ALA captain in the head, causing his brains to splatter all over the rock from which hid behind. The young man looked down at the Neo Nazi he killed, then to the bone fragments and viscera that stained the surrounding area. For the first time in his life, he felt the bitter twinge of shame and disgust. His face contorted in a hateful expression while he tried to fight back tears before scurrying back to RM II…

TO BE CONTINUED IN MISSION 7

[willowsallen]

native 101: how to spot a pretendian

[when speaking of indigenous people i’m discussing ai/an]

first and foremost, this is not to be taken (by non-natives) as permission to then label people native, or not native. this is simply a guide to help you guys discern, at least a little bit better, when we say someone is a pretendian and what that actually means.

tldr: the way they identify themselves (“native american” with no nation; top pretendian nations, etc.), the connection and history they have to their people / nation (this includes reconnecting / “new” natives), how well known “natives” =/= being native, and a brief mention of “looks” and/or word of mouth being the only deciding factor in being “native” (booboo stewart, kelsey chow, etc.), is how real indigenous people can quickly pick out a pretendian in the crowd.

there are plenty of indigenous people in the rpc, so feel free to ask me for more indigenous blogs you can use as a reference. i hope this guide provides you guys with some more insight and understanding; so you can stop asking us the same question, with differing fcs, every other week.

i’m going to put this disclaimer here, so i don’t keep repeating myself later on. if you’re not indigenous, your opinion does not matter when it comes to pretendians, blood quantum, “looks”, etc. but, if you have updated information on a faceclaim (whether they are or are not a pretendian) please send it! education is key.

the steps below does not mean that every single person doing these things are a pretendian! (example: a common pretendian nation is cherokee. malese jow is actually cherokee!) everybody keeps asking “how we know” so i figured to let y’all know what we work through and look for.

how do they identify themselves?

a lot of the time, pretendians will do one of two things.

one. they won’t ever name a specific nation. how many “native” people out there just call themselves native american? they don’t give any other factors, they don’t elaborate, they just leave it as that. for the most part, indigenous people will always give their nations name. we take pride in where we come from and are outspoken on our nations. even cody christian, for example, who has not played a native character and is extremely “not native looking” has his nations listed on his own website. any time you google “cody christian ethnicity” it will come up. so it doesn’t mean natives have to talk about it 24/7 to “be” indigenous, but it simply starts at naming a nation!

two. give the top pretendian tribes. care to take a guess? correct! cherokee! blackfoot is also a popular one, as well. it’s less often you catch a pretendian going for smaller known tribes. i personally think it’s because it’d be easier to look at tribal records and quickly find out they’re not apart of it, but maybe these pretendians just don’t know other nations! any time i hear somebody claim cherokee it’s like an immediate eye roll. (did y’all know there’s also different bands of cherokee?) the biggest culprit would be kelsey chow, who claimed eastern band! the nation themselves had to come out and say there is no record of her. but that was after she’d already taken native roles, where others were boasting about her indigeneity. being known for “being native” does not make you native! case and point.

two contd. speaking of claiming “lesser known” tribes, that still doesn’t give pretendians a pass! could also be you believe them because they’re not as well known. like julia jones claiming chickasaw and choctaw, tyler blackburn claiming comanche, etc. this isn’t an end all be all when people claim well known nations vs not well known ones, but just something to keep in mind! when looking to see if someone is pretendian, we don’t just look at one thing, like this, it’s a combination of basically everything in this post. so don’t let the nations fool you! it’s just one piece of the puzzle.

i will be talking a little later on about people who are known for being native and how harmful that impacts actual native people down below.

how do they connect to their nation?

are they from the rez? do they have traditional clothing? are they actively reconnecting (and what does that look like)?

not every native person has grown up in their culture, that’s not what being native is, but there still should be some sort of connection to them! an example of a native person who did not grow up in the culture and has since been reconnecting is kristin chirico who is cayuga and seneca! kristin has actively been taking the steps to connect to the cayuga and seneca people for the last few years and is very outspoken on that fact. other people have actually grown up in their nation (doesn’t necessarily have to be on a rez, but has had that close contact with their family and people). like kiowa gordon, martin sensmeier, quannah chasinghorse, khadijha red thunder, malese jow, cody christian, etc.

being native doesn’t equal growing up around native people, i want to make that clear. there is a lot of different avenues to be connected to one’s indigeneity, as listed above! but it’s important to see what real connection looks like when we brings up others who have no real connections because they’re pretendians. an example being tinsel korey - from twilight! she played sam’s wife. her real name is actual harsha patel and she’s indian (from india!). she’s claimed for so long that she was indigenous (she finally landed on claiming ojibwe, but has also previously claimed mohawk, cherokee, and cree) yet she had no active connection to the nation she claimed, she didn’t try to reconnect, she didn’t have ancestral grounds, etc.

there are many ways to be native. don’t mistake not being super connected / outspoken as them being fake or not “native enough” and don’t think anybody who is loud about being “native” in hollywood is. context is vital.

well known “natives” =/= being native.

please don’t then go ask “well so-and-so said they’re native and they’re an actor so does that mean they’re lying?” not necessarily! pay attention! get a grip!

kelsey chow, julia jones, tyler blackburn, and blair redford are just some of the ~popular~ pretendians around. but at one point, many thought that they were entirely indigenous. notoriety, getting indigenous roles, or just presenting yourself that way (to seem cool, to get jobs, to... idk) doesn’t mean somebody is inherently indigenous. in my pretendians masterlist, i have even more names there that you might not even realize aren’t native, as well as the phrase “it’s not about who you claim, it’s who claims you.” this doesn’t mean if you can be enrolled in a nation (i.e. blood quantum) but if there’s any record of your ancestors being apart of that nation! or you actively being apart of it / reconnecting.

for example, cody christian isn’t super outspoken on being indigenous, nor has he taken (as far as i know) any native role. that’s his own choice! this isn’t about that. you see him and you see a white man. but his mother grew up on the reservation, so did her parents, and so on. he is claimed by his people, even if he isn’t extremely vocal about it. he doesn’t need to prove that to you, it’s simply inherent. meanwhile, kelsey chow ran up and down hollywood screaming she was eastern cherokee. she then got cast as an indigenous woman (based on her words of being indigenous) and the eastern band said hold up! not on my watch! and explained they did not claim her.

you don’t need a specific blood amount or look to actually be indigenous. you need that ties to your culture and nation (no matter how far back it is) to be indigenous.

booboo stewart (looks).

firstly. he can choke. hollywood stop casting booboo the fool stewart as your indian fav challenge.

secondly! read my post about him here.

booboo stewart is quite possibly the most harmful pretendian there is. he’s made it so far on the notion he’s native. it’s just words. he’s made no effort to connect to his people, to be apart of the culture, but on top of that! they also haven’t claimed him. i’m not sure why they haven’t come out and said he is or is not apart of their nation. i wish they would! he’s taken multiple, countless, numerous roles from real native people.

his “looks” are the only thing he has going for him. he’s an asian man! he’s got small eyes and high cheekbones but non-natives are so stupid they think that means he’s a redskin! this is why we’re so vocal about looks not being important to be considered indigenous. because people see someone with ambiguous features calling themselves generokee and run with it.

i don’t want to write a dissertation on him, but he’s been silent on native issues, not speaking up or spreading awareness, and actively taking roles away from indigenous people. he’s not taking any asian roles the way he’s taking native roles, even though his mother is entirely asian, and he has never spoken about his culture or people apart from “being” native american. i’m not even sure if he, himself, has ever named a nation or if blackfoot got tossed around.

this man is a menace and it’s on sight for anybody who is a booboo apologist. thank you and goodnight.

conclusion.

thank you for reading all of this! send it to your friends, spread the word. i’m not taking any more excuses after this.

i want to end this by saying, again, this does not give non-natives a pass to cast judgements on others for their indigeneity. this can be used as a tool to help distinguish why we call someone a pretendian, or for people to come to us (after reading this) because they think so-and-so is a pretendian because of what we look for! do not go around saying someone is or isn’t indigenous unless a native person has already said so. now, we ask that nobody come to us inquiring “why” we say x, y, z is a pretendian. we’ve laid it all out for you. you don’t have to understand, that’s not your job, but you do have to listen to us about our issues. neewe! thanks.

let me know if you have any other questions i can add to this guide. i’m not sure what non-natives want to know, or don’t know, or are confused about.

[howdoyousleep3]

where’s that hc about bucky learning to touch 🤲

I was hoping someone would notice that tag and hit me up. Thank you, sweet pea. This one is special to me, one of many. ❤

Bucky doesn’t say much about what happened to him after the fall and before Steve was miraculously given a second chance at a life with him. Steve is thankful for that. The details he does know come from Bucky’s therapist and from files that have been scrounged up over time, ones Steve can’t stomach through, ones he hands to Natasha and asks only for the information she finds pertinent.

Steve is sure he’d die of a goddamn broken heart if he knew every detail of Bucky’s 70+ years of brainwashed torture.

What he needs to know about Bucky is constant and will never change: this is James Barnes, the one in the same Steve spent his entire life falling in love with, Steve loves him now more than ever, and he is going to live every day he’s gifted with in this life for Bucky.

There are things Steve expects after Bucky joins him and the others back at the Tower, things Bruce has helped him comprehend in such a volatile predicament.

“It could take months, years even, for him to come back to you in full. And honestly, Steve...I would be ready for the possibility of him not returning to you in full. This may not end up being the Bucky you knew and grew up with. He needs therapy, needs patience, needs reminders of his life before, of who he was and is. This won’t be easy, Steve.”

Anything for Bucky.

There are things Bucky took to right away and other things that took much longer for him to enjoy or remember. Steve is with him every step of the way.

Sleep was one thing that Steve thought would be a struggle. After only one month of sleeping on the floor in the corner of his bedroom, Steve able to hear him tossing and turning and breathing heavily through his own bedroom wall, it took one afternoon nap on the couch to make him want to move to his new bed. While nightmares continued, Bucky slept albeit in small increments and sometimes through the day, but he slept.

Steve thought that would take years.

Crowds were another story. Crowds came with trust and Bucky rightfully didn’t trust others easily. He barely trusted Steve at first. It took time to get him out of the apartment, baby steps, one step forward and two steps back. They started with walks at dawn, fewer people, gave a shot at stopping for coffee on the way home a few times.

“It’s a Venti here, Buck,” Steve had tried to explain and Bucky huffed. “Why are things so goddamn complicated now? Just want a coffee, a—”

“I know— a black coffee with too much sugar. I got it.”

They’re working on interactions with others and the anxiety that comes with crowds. That one will take time.

What hadn’t taken time, and what startled everyone in the tower beyond belief, was Bucky and affection.

Steve may not know much of what Bucky has spent most of his life enduring but he at least had the assumption that what Bucky went through shouldn’t make him want any kind of touch from another person. Steve wrongfully assumed that any sort of gentle or soft touch wasn't something Bucky would like.

Bucky had spent the past 70+ years walking this earth as a killer, a robot, a machine, an assassin. He surely spent decades thinking he wasn’t worthy of anything, let alone love. He had been touch-starved, void of the tenderness and closeness Steve knows Bucky deserved and craved underneath the brainwashed parts of him.

It took time for Bucky to remember who Steve was to him. While he had recognized him immediately, remembering him but not how, it took months for Bucky to remembered the capacity in which he did so.

And Steve waited.

And waited.

Steve was gifted with small moments along the way, on this journey of Bucky remembering both himself and who Steve was to him:

“You...you were real small once,” Bucky said, factual with no trace of a question, hands in soapy water as he handed Steve a plate to dry. Steve had merely hummed. “Yeah, was...was maybe half the size I am now. Real small.”

“Could fit both’a my hands right around your middle…”

It had been a long while since Steve blushed like that.

Bucky standing over Steve’s sleeping form, heaving chest visible by only the filtered moonlight, Steve mumbling out a, “Buck, wha—?” before Bucky whispered, “You...you’ve been inside of me.” Steve sat up.

“I have,” Steve breathed, on cautious ground, shakier when Bucky then whispered, “But you like it better when I’m inside’a you.”

When Steve had swallowed audibly, nodded his head wordlessly, Bucky had turned and left the room.

It took months of moments like those to compile together, to form the picture of what Steve once was, what he yearned to continue to be, to Bucky. All of these moments, these memories, came to a head so unpredictably during yet another movie night. Knees knocking, fingers brushing, small touches that Steve absolutely soaked in, had gotten used to, had relearned.

When a glance towards Bucky had the wind knocking its way out of Steve’s chest, the familiarity of that look a bone-deep ache—

Bucky was going to kiss him.

A look full of determination and want, lips parted, eyes a bit glassy. Steve didn't dare move, had let Bucky come to him for fear of scaring him away. The moment their lips touched was the moment Bucky started crying. It had only been a short brush of their lips but Steve barely breathed, barely moved. Bucky had pulled back with wide, wet eyes, shaky breaths. “Buck, it’s okay. It’s okay. Everything’s alright, sweetheart,” are the words that easily slipped from his mouth, unable to stop them in a moment of progress that satiated his entire being.

That was the moment that changed everything. It was a startle to everyone involved. Steve had been ready to wait years, this entire life, for the moment he could touch Bucky again, could show him that physicality he knew his Buck craved. After that night on the couch it was as if the floodgates had opened—

Bucky remembered and wanted.

Regardless of where they were or what was happening, he wanted to be touching Steve: soft kisses on the cheek and lips, laying his head in Steve’s lap as he read, lacing his fingers between Steve’s during meetings, an arm wrapped around Steve’s waist between bouts of sparring. He’d trace patterns onto Steve’s thigh as he watched Steve draw, press against the line of his back while he cooked dinner.

Steve was floating on a cloud, was in heaven, never happier. It was perfection.

But what Bucky wanted, Steve couldn’t provide, couldn’t meet. Steve was only one man, couldn’t provide Bucky, whom touch had been stolen away from for decades, with everything he wanted. And that was okay, something Steve accepted, because there were other people Bucky could turn to that Steve trusted.

“I’m sure you all know why I asked you to meet with me,” Steve started, choosing a time Bucky was napping to meet with the rest of the group that either lived in or frequented the Tower. “Bucky has shown us a new side of him, has made some progress I think it’s worth discussing with everyone, since we’re all...we’ve all been affected...”

“Uhh, yeah— your Barnes-y boy has been all over me lately. I’m almost offended that everyone else is here to talk to Cap though. Thought he was just comin' onto me.”

“I have to tell you, I didn’t...I know we talked, Steve. But I’m honestly shocked at Bucky’s progress. It’s baffling.”

“I haven’t minded it. He lets me braid his hair.”

“Wait— y’all are getting touches?”

It was a group effort, supporting Bucky in this way. It was an adjustment, Bucky never prompting and questioning before touching or requesting touches— he just went for it. He was quiet still, not shy, merely observant. And just like he nudged at and leaned against Steve until his hands were on him, he did the same to others.

“I just ask that you show Bucky grace during this time. It’s a delicate situation. I need to know if you don’t want his touch or don’t wish to give him any kind of touch. I think it would be best if it came from me instead of from you in the moment.”

Natasha was who Bucky went to for scratches. Steve thinks it’s the nails. Steve also thinks Nat is Bucky’s favorite to go to for touches, even over him, but Bucky refuses to admit it.

When Bucky wants mindless touches, when he wants tickles and scratches, he goes to her. She naturally took to Bucky’s need for touches, the first occurrence one that came without hesitation. She’ll braid his hair, let him turn his head right where he wants her head scratches, naturally reaches for his back or shoulders to run her nails across when he saddles in close to her.

Thor is one of Bucky’s favorites too. Steve isn’t sure if it’s because of his strength or because of his warm and accepting demeanor but Bucky gravitates towards Thor often, mainly for neck and shoulder rubs. One, “James, my friend. You musn’t be afraid of asking for touch with me. I will always be willing to assist,” and that was all Bucky needed to feel comfortable walking over to Thor and nudging at his hands.

He puts his head on Bruce’s shoulder as soon as he can, likes sparring and playing hide and seek with Clint, enjoys putting his feet in Sam’s lap. Tony took some warming up to, but even then Bucky spent many hours in Tony’s lab, Tony guiding his hands, showing him what to do and how to work different machines, the two of them tinkering on his own arm.

Bucky kinda turns into the Tower kitty cat, wandering around quietly, napping in the sun, snacking, demanding affection from anyone he crosses paths with and trusts.

Everyone had their form of touch they shared with Bucky and Bucky absolutely blossomed under this form of support. Steve is forever grateful to be surrounded by a group of understanding individuals.

And every night when he lifts the comforter and feels the solid line of Bucky’s warm form against his side, the arm that now easily and inevitably slips around his waist, the familiar lips that always press against his temple, shoulder, and cheek, Steve is reminded this day was for Bucky and that the one they’ll wake up to will also be for him.

"I love you, Buck."

"Mhmm love you too, pal."

Steve doesn't even mind that Bucky spends his nights snoring in the crook of his neck, hot breath wafting over Steve's skin, hands grabby even as he dreams—

This is heaven.

[subspencer]

Neighborly Favors

baby!spencer x fem!reader

based on this request from @spencergubler

spencer discovers what his neighbor does for a living, and she offers to give him a show EDIT: i realized after posting i switch from using third person/‘she’ to second person/‘you’ halfway through. my excuse is i was sleep deprived. hope you can overlook the error!

wc: 2.3k. cw: none

He's only ever seen his neighbor in passing, catching the flash of her coat as she enters her apartment while he's leaving his, or seeing the top of her head as she's walking by on the street when he looks down from his window. Most people don't take enough interest in their neighbors to care to get to know them, and normally Spencer wouldn't care either. Except this neighbor plays some pretty interesting music, which he can hear through the thin walls connecting their apartments.

He's not exactly sure what she's doing when she's playing her music loudly, but it doesn't sound like she's with anyone. And not that he's trying to invade her privacy, but he also doesn't hear anything happening that's remotely as sexual as what the music is. It kind of sounds like she's working out? He's not sure.

What little information he has on her only inspires his mind to think of her more often. To solve the mystery of his next-door neighbor, who comes home just as he's leaving for work, who he thinks always looks pretty despite never having seen her face.

Unfortunately, his sweet, innocent mind doesn't consider what most would think is the obvious answer. He has to find that out himself after he finally sees her, properly, in the hallway, trying to break into own apartment by picking the lock.

"Are you locked out?" He manages to speak calmly even though his mind is racing looking at her. She has on a short coat that stops just above her knees, and a pair of heels that look incredibly tall. All he he sees between are long, bare legs.

"Yeah.” She sighed, dropping the bobby pin she jammed into the lock. “Can I wait in yours until the maintenance guy comes?"

And he has no idea how he doesn't just pick up his feet and start running, but he actually lets her in, and now it's just the two of them sitting on his couch, multiple feet apart as they try to find conversation to fill the awkward silence.

"So... what do you do for work?"

"I'm a dancer."

"Oh... like ballet or-"

She looks at him like he's grown a second head and laughs, "I'm an exotic dancer."

"Oh."

He folds his hands in his lap and is suddenly extremely red. From the embarrassment of looking stupid in front of her, for one. And a bit because now he's thinking about her, in those exact high heels she has on, dancing in a dark room.

"These aren't the shoes I wear for that."

His head snaps up at her, terrified he’d said those thoughts out loud. He must not have realized he'd been staring down at her shoes for a moment too long, and that given her profession, she can tell when a guy's looking at her a certain way. Lucky for him, she finds his bashful innocence to be endearingly cute.

"They're a lot taller than this. I just wear these to get to and from work. You can see them sometime," she shrugs. Too coolly offering to show Spencer what she looks like when she dances.

He really doesn't know what to say, it probably should not have been what he ended up saying, "So the music from your place then?" He blinks at her, hands holding his knees so he has something to do with them. When she doesn't answer right away, he offers his signature frog smile, feeling incredibly awkward still.

"Sorry, didn't realize it was so loud." She looks genuinely apologetic, and it makes him feel bad for saying it like that.

"No, I mean- I mean is that like, the music that..." She knows what he's trying to ask, but it's just so much more fun watching him squirm trying to figure out how to word it in a tactful way. "Is that what you listen to at work?"

God, he's so cute, managing to find the most unassuming way to ask that. "It's what I dance to, at work, yes."

"Cool." He has no idea why he asked that. Or where to take the conversation from there. Now he's just sitting in that silence again, staring pointedly at his floor as he ignores the new mental image of her next door, kept apart from him by only a paper thin wall as she practices her routines in her living room.

Spencer's not a creepy guy, he's really not, but he feels like one when he's picturing his neighbor naked while she's sitting right next to him.

And who is she helping when she takes off her coat (because Spencer's apartment is eighty degrees)? Certainly not Spencer, who is half-expecting her to be wearing her uniform underneath. He's relieved when it's actually just a dress. And then he hates himself for thinking it wouldn't be.

She’s too sharp to not catch the look that flashed across his face as she took it off. Curious, excited. Maybe a little lustful. Nervous, for sure. But curious is what she was going to cling onto.

“Do you at least like some of the songs?” She said behind a devilish grin.

“I uh... I haven’t heard any of them, before-”

"What's your favorite?"

Spencer let out an airy chuckle, shrinking under the pressure that she wouldn't let up. He can't answer that question without incriminating himself a little bit. It was easier to laugh and brush it off like she was joking.

"Spencer, I know you have a favorite," she pressed, scooting a tad closer. Her chin rested on her hand, propped up by her elbow resting on her crossed-over knees. "If you tell me I might show you the routine."

The lump in his throat is visible as he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He wipes his sweaty palms on his knees before suddenly you're grabbing them, calling his attention as you stand up in front of him.

"I was going to practice anyway. I'm working on a new routine." His eyes can't get wider as you pull him up from the sofa and drag one of his dining room chairs to the center of the living room. "Maybe you can tell me if it's good."

As you queue up the song on your phone, Spencer does the only thing his mind is capable of doing. To sit down and wait for what's coming. Music starts playing softly from your phone speakers, and you move to the light switch in his living room, gesturing to ask if it's alright as you hit the dimmer.

Even in the dim light, Spencer can see how beautiful you are. He can make out the features of your face if he trains his eyes hard enough, and that's exactly what he's doing. Trying to watch your face, even as you're sauntering towards him, hiking up the hem of your dress.

"You okay?" Your tone was playful and light, two things Spencer did not feel capable of being right now. He felt completely serious as you placed a hand loosely on his shoulder, dragging it along his body as you circled the back of his chair, across his back and bracing his neck. Cupping under his jaw so tenderly before letting go. It lit up each nerve ending that came across your path.

You were behind him again, sliding both your hands down the front of his chest with soft pressure, dragging them down as your lips came to ghost near his neck. Your face just barely touched his skin, grazing it in a feather-soft way that made him tickle.

Each cell in his body came to attention under your touch. His eyes almost drifted shut to succumb to the feeling, but then you stood in front of him, swaying your hips gently as you sunk down towards the floor, bracing your self with a hand on each of his knees

As you came up, your hands slid up his thighs, using him as a brace to bring your body closer to his, diving towards him with your chest to his face. You moved slow on the way up, giving him time to appreciate the cleavage revealed by the skimpy dress as you did.

His eyes were still locked on yours, cowering under the attention and to nervous to look anywhere else.

"I-I don't know what to do with my hands," he chuckles, blushing hard.

You hum, turning around and taking a seat on his lap, pushing your hips slowly back until they met his crotch. You gave him a soft grind before letting your back fall to his chest, wrapping one arm around his neck. Taking his free hand into your own, you placed it gently around your thigh before trailing it up your body, allowing him to push the hem of the dress further up as your hands travelled towards your chest. You let his fingers toy with the lace edge of your panties for a second before ghosting them over the swell of your chest, skimming just briefly and teasingly, before dropping his hand back to his side.

Lifting up from your hips, you suspended your body over his, rolling in slow motion just above his lap, barely making contact with his body as he watched you. Still using his chest to bear your weight with your arms hooked around his shoulders, able to crane your neck to the side and place soft kisses on the shell of his ear before sighing deeply into it.

On instinct, his hands fly up, gripping your waist and bringing you back down to him against his hard dick. Immediately, he dropped his hands, feeling suddenly rude for being so forward and demanding. Instead, he was rewarded with a gracious bounce of your ass against him, a few times before grinding deeply against him.

Just as a groan fell from his lips, your fingernails scraped against his shoulder, ducking under the collar of his shirt to feel the bare skin. His hips buck up in reaction, and he's quickly embarrassed again.

"It's okay," you coo, running your hand through his hair. He follows your fingers as they run through the strands, chasing after them, so you provide him with a gentle tug. He bites back a moan and you tug harder, determined to make it fall from his mouth.

He lets out a surprised gasp and his arm wraps over your waist, weighing you down so you couldn't move too far from him. You almost want to tease that clients are never allowed to touch the dancers like this, but you fear that then he might stop. So, you don't.

Just for his benefit, you give him a deep, exaggerated moan right in his ear as you roll against his dick, allowing your free hand to wrap over the arm gripping your waist so tightly. When he starts subtly shifting in his chair, you can feel him getting closer.

He starts rolling his hips in time with yours, pushing them into you as you shift yours back, pressing your bodies ever closer. His eyes flutter shut as he bunches up the fabric of your dress, knotting it in his hands as he tries to hold himself back.

You break another rule when you wrap your lips over his earlobe, sucking it softly into your warm mouth before releasing, "It's okay."

It's all the permission he needs, both of his arms now pinning you against him. He gasps as his hips jut up, staggered and out of rhythm, a few times before he lets out a strangled moan, spilling his release inside his trousers.

It was never your intention to let it get this far, but you're so glad it did when you see his face, covered in a light sheen of sweat and pupils blown with lust. His naturally plump, pink lips are red and swollen from biting down so hard. That slicked-back hairdo he had before is now tousled up from your fingers knotting through it. He looks nothing like that shy, innocent boy who opened his door to you just thirty minutes ago. He's something else entirely, panting for air as he comes down from his climax.

When his eyes open again, they still look at you as softly as they did before. With the same admiration, and maybe now a deeper level of want.

You've never been one to be at a loss of words, but you truly don't know what to say now that you've seen your very cute neighbor come undone under you. And that he looks at you so sweetly despite what's just transpired. You keep it light and playful just as before as you climb off of him, searching for your phone and purse while he excuses himself to the bathroom to clean up.

While he's gone, you hear the maintenance guy coming down the hall, and you have no reason to stay. Just as you go to leave, he comes back out, and he hides his disappointment poorly because you look like you're making a quick escape. But when you see him, your hand leaves the doorknob and you turn to say goodbye.

His long legs carry him across the length of the room quickly, stopping just short of you, and you notice just how tall he is as he towers over you. His eyes flicker between yours and your lips, wanting to kiss you, but unsure where the boundary lies.

You lean forward to kiss him, the gap between you narrowing and your eyes drifting closed.

"Can I take you out?" he stops you in your tracks. He starts panicking internally, taking your stunned silence as a rejection. "Like, on a date? Is that... is that okay?"

Then you finally lung forward, crashing your lips over his as you bring him down to you by his neck, pulling him closer. His mouth chases yours as you separate, and you leave a trail of sweet pecks over his lips and chin, smiling at him and nodding, "It's okay."

-

-

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[stopeatingwhales]

football hysteria x damon albarn

I LOVED THIS SM LMAO !!!!!!!! football obsessed damon is so cute

Pairing: 90s damon albarn x reader

Warnings: noneeee

Word count: 2.281

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

"Who you supporting?" Graham asked me, handing me a beer as he sat himself beside me on the couch next to me in the middle, Damon sat on the opposing side. Damon had dragged me over to Graham's house to watch the Man City and Chelsea game tonight, and knowing just how competitive Damon came to football, I knew it was better that I simply went along with things rather than moan about how much I really didn't want to spend two hours watching two teams pass around a ball for entertainment.

"Erm, Man City." I replied, quickly flicking the can open to taste the bittersweet barley flavouring of the heineken beer as it embellished the walls of my mouth.

"You don't support Chelsea?" Damon questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

A small chuckle left my mouth. “Of course I don't, they're shit." I sneered, aware of the havoc that my statement was going to cause. Immediately, Damon's mouth fell agape; stunned by my malevolence, as well as partial shock from the new-found information surrounding my opinions on football.

Graham's laughter rang through the room and my ears as my eyes continued to burn into Damon's piercing gaze, him just as amused as I was. Nobody was as big a football fan as Damon had become. "They're anything but shit," he continued, eyebrows now raised as he scoffed. "You're telling me that you support Man City? Gallagher-brother-Man-City?"

"Okay I'm going to sit between you both,'' Graham announced, swiftly standing up, shoving my body to the side he had just accompanied, placing his body between me and Damon, a blockade to prevent either of us going at each other's throats. "Just so we can all be alive by the end of it."

“Well I wouldn't have fucking invited her over if I knew she supported those manic twats, Graham."

"Piss right off Damon, we're in Graham's flat, not yours." I bit back, completely unphased by his childlike behaviour. It had been made quite apparent to the media that Chelsea were indeed the band dominated by the south, as well as Blur, and Man City were celebrated in the north by Oasis. However, it was quite comical noticing the immediate flush of anger that filled Damon's face after my sly comment. Leaning back into the loveseat, my back adorned the soft feel of the cushion behind me. "Graham, who do you support?" I asked, curiosity laced in my words as the football pitch came into view on the television screen - initiating the beginning of the match.

My eyes were focused on Graham as I watched him toss his glasses onto the coffee table in front of us, which had been cascading with countless bags of crisps and other treats to keep us stuffed as the ninety-minute match played through. "In all honesty, I'm not that phased with football," he began, reaching over to open a bag of crisps. "It's Damon here who's completely obsessed with it."

As the match began, tensions were already built to a high degree between the three of us. Small but meaningless comments had been thrown into the atmosphere of the apartment, merely portraying our silliness and how neither of us had seemingly outgrown the competitive side of our personalities, something that would be more apparent during teenage years. Unfortunately however, very early into the game, Damon's supporting team had decided to skillfully snatch the ball from one of the players, eventually managing to get it into the goal - portraying the first goal scored subsequent to the game's start.

Damon instantaneously rose at the goal, shouting loud enough for the neighbours to hear every single word that rumbled out of his throat. "Told you we were bett-" he said, smugness intertwined between his words so effortlessly, though shamefully his words had been cut off by the sound of the cushion, once placed behind me, now hitting his face. I couldn't help but allow a tiny smirk to illustrate itself on my facial features as I admired his face dripping in absolute bewilderment towards my actions. “What the fuck was that for?” he scoffed, falling back into his side of the sofa, as I sustained the grin on my face, watching him. The atmosphere that was once overflowing with hostility was now completely serenaded with Damon's egocentric giggles, forcing my body to hunch into a sulk at how quickly my team had been warranting for a loss so early into the match.

Mid-way through the game, Graham had decided to go to the corner shop by his apartment to get more beers for us to share, due to us having run out to share between the three of us. I dreaded being alone in the room with the game ongoing with Damon present, full-well knowing that his upbeat jolliness would attempt to torment me upon the fact that he was winning, which, to my demise, was exactly what had occured. The air fell still in the room once the sound of the door slamming etched through the flat walls, my gaze focused entirely on the match following on the screen, attempting to focus my mind on anything but the room that I was currently occupied in - though my peripheral noticed Damon's head almost instantly turned to look in my direction once it was made evident that Graham wasn’t inside the flat anymore. As if reading my mind, he decided to shift his body weight, which was once adorned to the other armrest of the burgundy couch, right next to me, where he attempted to wrap his arm around my shoulders, warming me into an embrace. In spite of this, I could feel his intense stare on my features. Using all my strength to avoid connecting eyes with him, I wasn’t going to admit defeat so easily, my stubbornness proving a point.

Once Damon realised, he carried on watching the game, however his body had continued it's embrace with mine. At one point, I was thinking that the match was going to be a lost cause from the performance shown by Chelsea, However, things began to turn around, and Man City managed to score a goal, to Damon's consternation. The sudden win resulted in me lunging from my seat, swiftly detaching myself from Damon, my whole body cheering towards the goal as it replayed on the screen. What was amusing was that, after I had finished my applause, I noticed that Damon had moved back into his seat by the side of the couch, distancing himself from me. "Aw, you don't want to sit with me anymore?" I sarcastically questioned, not waiting for an answer as a small smile crept on my lips. It was very amusing, pissing Damon off. I must say, watching his ego deflate into nothing but a simple sulk at the corner of a room was really the sight.

"What did I miss?" The sound of graham's voice sounded through the room, paired with the clank of multiple beer bottles as he reached into the plastic carrier bag to place them on the table. Each and every one had an individual water-streak pattern, indicating that they had just been chilled - when they taste best.

"Man City scored!" I exclaimed, reaching out for one of the glass bottles as I got the bottle opener to unfasten it from its metal clasp, promptly taking a swig from the beverage. The intent was, of course, to provide Graham with the extra knowledge upon the events that occurred during the match whilst he was absent, however knowing myself, I had also wanted to remind Damon of said occurrences, to surge him to the edge of his frustration. Exclaiming it at the top of my lungs held just enough power to do just that.

A chuckle immediately left Graham's mouth from my enthusiasm. "Need me to sit between you both again?" He jokingly asked, yet an element of seriousness was laced between his words.

“Depends if Damon's gonna stop sulking or not.” I replied, focusing my view on the game playing on the screen.

"You're the one who was fucking throwing the cushions!" Damon shouted, reaching over to grab himself a beer.

"Because you were pissing me off!" I answered, shifting my gaze onto Damon, who was, to my surprise, staring directly at me. There was a certain look of annoyance glazed on his features, though the agitation seemed to subside as soon as we locked stares, as if he was longing for my eyes to bear their sight toward him, as if it was an examination, an analysation to confirm whether we were still on good terms or not; of course we were, while conflicting preferences drew evident tears between us during that moment in particular. After a few seconds had passed, Damon leaned back into the cushion, carrying on watching the game unfold, satisfied with his response from my eyes. Switching my gaze over to Graham, I took notice of a look of question illustrated on his features, to which I decided to mime that it was alright, in order to move myself next to Damon once again. It would've been a lie, and a mere understatement, to say that I hadn't missed his arms around me.

Bunching up next to him, enough space was made to allow graham to sit himself down next to me, though that thought was the last passing my mind; my body was shivering from nervousness, the close proximity between us, regardless of our romantic acquaintance, never failed to bloom butterflies at the pit of my stomach. Due to my body's weight pressing down onto the cushion next to him, it was obvious that he was aware that I moved to sit next to him - but at a cause of his stubbornness, him averting all his attention onto me, admiring me as if I was the only living being in the apartment, a home that hadn't even belonged to me, would never happen - it would take much more to result in his feign of irritation to melt away. Placing my arm around his shoulder, I granted my hand to reach up to his beautiful head of hair, my fingers caressing his strands gently as I brushed any parts that were sticking out on the sides of his head. His arms were wrapped around one another, like a child encompassed in an angry stupor at their parent due to them not allowing them a packet of sweets from the grocery store, though I was playing at his heartstrings, aware of just how much he adored me playing with his dirty blonde locks.

For a short sum of time, we both sat there, my hands never halting their actions. The next few minutes of the game played out of continuous dribbling and passing to other teammates, oftentimes resulting in the other team taking hold of the ball and running around with it for a while until their attempt to score. Randomly, Damon's arm had released itself from its shared embrace with the other, engulfing my body with his as he encased his left arm around my shoulders. We were in a sense of comfort with one another, though from Damon's avoidance of my stare it was made obvious that he was still in the least carrying a small element of annoyance, nevertheless, as I allowed my eyes to linger onto his delicate, paradisiacal features, holding back a grin was seen much easier said than done, a small curvature sneaking itself on his lips.

"Look who's won." Graham mumbled, his voice detaching me out of my trance that I was enamoured in.

A laugh rang itself out of my throat as I admired the lengthy team cheering as they enveloped one another in a massive embrace. "Told you they were better!" I grinned as I diverted my gaze onto Damon, the same look of frustration painted on his demeanour, still avoiding his eyes on me. "You want a kiss?" I asked, tilting my head in order to make sure I was the main thing in his sight, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep up his facade so easily. "Kiss kiss?"

I continued until his eyes met mine. It was as if, for a short segment of time we were frozen in place, momentary seconds passing of us merely marvelling at the view illustrated forth one another, my hands snaking their way around his neck as I leaned in slightly, noticing his blue orbs fall onto my lips, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his mind wandered through fields of appraisal. It was then where I couldn’t hold resistance for any longer, and I doubted that Damon could, bringing my head forward as I let my lips latch onto his, allowing time to flow as they lingered still before he kissed me back with gentle force, enough to notify me of his desire that encompassed him just as much as me. The kiss held innocence, portrayed adoration in its true beauty, nevertheless, also embodying eagerness, a yearning of lust.

"I'm going to be honest," I mumbled, removing my lips away from his, panting as I attempted to recollect my breath. "I don't actually support Man City."

"Of course you fucking don't." Damon laughed, our lips connecting once again as he perched his head forward, intoxicating me with the very thing that I desired most in that significant moment.

"If you're gonna shag, please go home." Graham groaned, causing our bodies to jolt at the sudden awareness that we weren’t alone together. Pulling away instantly, a wave of embarrassment covered my cheeks as we looked at one another, infatuation the single thing flowing out of our eyes.

“Sorry Graham.”

[genshin-impacted]

lost & found // Diluc x Reader (3/3)

Word Count: ~6.5k

Notes: Seelie!Reader, GN!Reader, Diluc/Reader, Mondstadt people interaction + Mondstadt Archon Quest, mild violence/fighting description and mentions of blood, Diluc POV briefly, mainly reader!POV

Summary: Oftentimes you find yourself wondering about your life before becoming a seelie, but with Diluc by your side, you don’t let yourself dwell on the long-gone past-- not when Diluc offers you affection and a tenderness that no one else is privy to. 

But on moonless nights, you let yourself wish upon a star.

(And sometimes, in this world ruled by the Gods and their stars, wishes are granted.)

Alternatively: Diluc has never asked you or needed you to change for him to love you.

[Part 2]

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(thanks for the love for this fic! here is the final addition)

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Diluc breathes out and sees the fog it makes in the frigid air of Dragonspine. The world continues to remind him that he’s lucky to have his Pyro vision, and again he’s inclined to agree that it’s a useful tool indeed. He cannot melt the snow that falls on the peaks of these mountains, but even he must admit that his flames have served him well in this icy winterland-- until it doesn’t. 

His phoenix burns through ruin guards and hunters alike, along with the icy foothold beneath him, and he falls into this cavern with no way up. He thinks it’s ironic that he’s the one that led himself into this predicament and attests it to your influence as his trouble-finding seelie.

Diluc huffs as he dusts off the snow from his shoulders and continues further into the hole he fell into, leaving tracks wherever he can so that you can find him. He knows better than anyone what you can do, and he knows that you cannot find him if he doesn’t leave clues. 

It is neither a surprising nor disappointing revelation to him. Diluc has always known that there is nothing special that binds the two of you together-- and perhaps that is why he cherishes what the two of you have. There is no contract, no string of fate, no hand of god that has put the two of you together or convinced the other to stay. You have chosen to stay with Diluc, and Diluc has chosen to let your presence change his life bit by bit.

Ever since coming back to Mondstadt, he has slowly grown more accustomed to working with other people, though with your appearance, his change has been accelerated. For with every adventure you drag him into, he meets new people, forming different teams. He’s helped Razor handle his broadsword better, and now he visits him ever so often to let him spar to his content. He let his stars be read by Mona, despite his initial hesitance (apparently, you are very into astrology), and can now see the constellations form above him much more clearly. And while he has never seen the need to be closer to his god, Venti sees the both of you more often outside of the tavern, and he sees a glimpse of Barbatos within the wind-weaving bard. 

You are a comforting presence: straightforward, easy to read, and compassionate. And he does not resist, much like everyone else, when you twirl your way into his heart. It is no longer surprising for him to understand that he does not need to be alone on the dark side of dawn when you have chosen to accompany him.

Speaking of choice, Diluc thinks irritably, wringing out the water from his hair. How did he agree to wander around Dragonspine of all places? He must have been caught up in the logistics of the experiment itself as well as your easy agreement. Diluc is admittedly the only person that understands your every nuance (or, well, most of it; some twirls are lost in translation), but even he cannot quite decipher what you want to take from this experiment of Albedo’s. 

When you find him-- which you will, he will ask you, and he thinks you will tell him as best as you can. For someone that cannot speak, you are the most honest individual in his life, which is something he has repeatedly found endearing and refreshing.  

Diluc climbs up the side of a cliff near the camp, only to see Albedo and Sucrose discussing at the edge of it. He briefly wonders if the experiment has ended, but when he does not see your light between the two of them, his breath hitches in the momentary panic he finds all too familiar to when he lost you the first time. 

Albedo spots him before he can speak. “Master Diluc, I’m relieved to find that you’re safe," he says briefly, and Diluc can at least respect how quickly the alchemist gets to the point, because he continues quickly. “Your seelie left to go find you before we could assess the situation.” He sighs as Sucrose frantically hands Diluc a towel to dry himself and a seat. “You gave them quite the scare, disappearing on us like that.” 

“You mean they’re out there on their own right now?” Diluc presses, feeling his hackles raise.

“Yes. We’re going to go out to recount your steps-- undoubtedly, your seelie will be trying to find you--”

Diluc doesn’t need to hear anything else. He holds the towel to Sucrose who nervously puts her hands up, unsure on what to do. “I’ll go find them,” he says. “The experiment is finished now, right?” 

“Do not go." Albedo sighs, and however Diluc thought of him before, it’s evident now that he is, above all else, frustrated with how things have turned out. “It’s my experiment and a miscalculation on my part. You should stay--”

“I’ll be fine--”

“Your vision does not make you impervious to the climates,” Albedo says calmly. He thinks he sees a gleam of cunning in Albedo’s eyes when he glares at the alchemist. “Besides, would your seelie be happy if you got yourself sick going to find them?” And Diluc cannot respond to that. 

“That being said,” Albedo continues, pulling at his gloves. “I predict you will refuse to stay here permanently. As it’s my fault, I’ll provide you with at least a potent heating potion before you go. Please wait; it won’t take long.”

“...Thank you,” Diluc says, taking back his towel much to Sucrose’s relief. When he sees Albedo head off onto his alchemy table, he sighs and settles into his seat. Where could you have gone, he thinks, drying his hair. After leaving the waterfall, he had… climbed the clifftop. Perhaps you lost him there without any way to notice which way he went afterward, which was a mistake on his part. Perhaps he should--

Diluc pauses his train of thought and instinctively turns his head to the left where he sees you floating. And the relief, oh, the relief he feels when he sees you fly toward him makes smiling easy. “There you are. I was about to go look for you since you weren't with Albedo." He swallows, beginning to breathe easy again. "I was worried," he admits, "I--" He stops abruptly when he looks up at you.

You are crying, and he almost does not know what to do. 

He didn’t realize you could cry. Diluc isn’t sure if he can even call them tears-- these globby droplets that disappear when they fall off your body that, when Diluc brushes them away, does not make his gloves wet. 

But he sweeps them away when they come anyways. “Hey,” he says tenderly, as you raise your voice from distress. “It’s okay. I’m fine; I’m here.” He cups your small orb-like body and listens to you as best as he can, sweeping his hand over your head and ears soothingly until your hiccup-like speech slows down to a halt. 

“You found me,” he tells you firmly. “You found me.” He repeats himself until you are warm in his hands and his hair is dry, the towel left forgotten on the ground.

Even when you have long calmed down, he continues to look over his shoulder to watch as you converse with Sucrose. “Did you get what you were looking for?” Diluc asks the alchemist, who hands him the warming potions for any emergencies. 

“Yes. Simply put, your mini seelie does not choose what it finds.” Albedo explains, “However, based on previous observations, they can hone in on things that are… otherworldly. You may be glad to confirm that you are, in fact, not otherworldly. And though this was not my intended result, I also would like to inform you that their attachment to you is out of their own volition…” Albedo watches in barely concealed amusement as Diluc glances over at you again. “Though, I’m sure you already knew this.” He clears his throat. “I would like to offer them future experimentation if they are willing.”

Diluc does his best not to look confused, but his pause gets the better of him. “Why are you asking me?”

Albedo only arches his brow and asks as a matter-of-fact, “Are you not each other’s keeper?” He continues without pause to quickly go over any logistics he has remaining, the details of Dragonspine (lest he fall into a pit again), before going over to talk to you briefly. Diluc wonders what the alchemist talked to you about but he decides to let the questions be asked later.

For now, you twirl up to him, beaming at him more brightly than usual, and he does not have it in him to say anything other than, “Let’s go home.”

.

.By the time the two of you arrive at the winery, it is dark. You do not hesitate to corral him into getting ready for sleep, and he indulges you by not protesting.

“What did you want to get out of the experiment today?” Diluc asks you, untying his hair and placing it onto his nightstand. Before he can finish his question, you bury yourself into his hair, and he thinks that your tweets and trills sound very much like laughter. He chuckles. “Avoiding the question, are you? How very unlike you,” he teases, and he knows you hear him when he looks into the mirror and sees you peek out from underneath the red and squeak indignantly.

“I’m kidding.” Diluc lifts his hair so you can climb out and face him. “You’re the most straightforward person I know,” he says fondly, and he briefly wonders when he has gotten so honest with himself, letting you know how he feels with the amount of emotion he puts into his words to you.  

Sated, you flip around once before settling into his cupped hands, deep in thought. Diluc doesn’t quite understand how your mannerisms make your emotions so recognizable, but he imagines that if you had hands, they would be under your chin in a thinking pose. 

He patiently waits for an answer, walking around his room and blowing out the lights. When he turns off the last one, you can only look up at him and let out a quiet coo-- an apology. His hands are already comforting you the moment after you answer him. 

“It’s alright,” Diluc says. “I suppose it’s not exactly easy to explain that.” He adds on immediately, “And don’t apologize again. It’s fine.” 

“I think I can understand why without you telling me,” he says, and if his voice is a little raw, he hopes it goes by unnoticed. “It’s hard, isn’t it-- not knowing what you’re supposed to be doing."

Quietly, you float up, and Diluc feels his heart tremble when you press a kiss to his forehead in a mix of an apology, a comforting notion, and an act of love. He lays down in silence with you, and if you make a nest out of his hair, and if he wakes up with you nestled at the crook of his neck, he does not say a word.

There is no need.

.

.

“Isn’t it enough?” Lisa asks him as she leans over the library railing. Diluc looks over to her as he puts away the last of the books he has asked to borrow, and he knows what she is asking before she finishes. Still, she tilts her head, her hat staying steady on her head, and repeats, “Isn’t it enough that they’re here with you?”

“Yes,” Diluc says without hesitation. “It is.” 

“Can I ask why you’re still researching about seelies then?” Lisa pauses, putting her hand over her shoulder, and Diluc knows she will arrive at the right answer without him telling her. “If not for you then… for them? You’re looking for answers for your mini seelie?” 

"I try to do what I can," he says, ignoring the way Lisa's eyes gleam all too knowingly. (He always knew there was much more to her at first glance.) "Thanks for the help, I--" He pauses when he catches Lisa smiling behind her fist. "...What is it?" he asks warily. 

"Oh, nothing." Lisa croons, giggling, "I just think it's sweet how the two of you treat each other. Anyone would get jealous of that." She pauses, looking out the window as the sun sets in the west. "It almost seems like a miracle to have the two of you find each other, don't you think? Fate, perhaps? How utterly romantic!"

"You're letting Kaeya influence you too much," Diluc retorts, much to Lisa's amusement.

"Maybe so," she says, sighing, "but even if it was fate, you wouldn't have cherished them any less." She gives Diluc a pointed look even he cannot deny. "Isn't that right, Master Diluc?"

Diluc huffs, walking past her to head down the stairs. "Asking that, I'm sure you already know my answer," he tells her, and he lets his mouth twitch in a semblance of a smile when he hears her complain about his tight-lipped attitude. It blossoms into a full-blown smile when he starts heading back to the winery.

.

When he comes back, you are waiting for him among the grapevines as the winery is basked in orange light.

He's home.

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Diluc sleeps early and wakes up before the crack of dawn and takes you up the clifftop overlooking the winery. He had told you that there was something he wanted to do and left it at that. Not that you minded-- you were happy to follow him, blocking out any sharp rocks so he wouldn’t grab ahold of them as he climbed and scaring off any elemental wisps that came your way. 

When the two of you reach the clifftop, the sky begins to grow brighter as the sun peeks over the horizon. The color change from blue to yellow then orange is truly beautiful, and you are almost mesmerized as Diluc takes a seat down next to you, watching the sunrise. 

“...It’s almost been a year now,” Diluc says, “since we first met.” 

Happy Anniversary? You squeak in confusion, only to whip your body to face him when you realize why you’re here with him at dawn to watch the beautiful scene unfold before you. You squeak rapidly, stumbling over your words that he cannot hear but can understand anyhow. You hadn’t realized-- You were an idiot for not planning anything either, not that you could-- What kind of ore could you go find to bring to him as a present--? 

“Thank you,” Diluc tells you, “for the past year.” In the backdrop of the rising sun, you think he is almost too bright to watch with that gentle smile of his. The thought is only exacerbated when he cups you in his hands as softly as he has always done. “Let’s see what this year has in store for us together.” 

You trill softly, floating in the air to situate yourself on top of his head to watch the ocean shine brighter with the rising sun. 

It is not the New Year for any country nor culture, but you look into the horizon and make a wish that no one can hear. One year has passed, many things have changed, but you find that the one thing that has not is your adoration for Diluc.

"Let's go back home," he tells you, not for the first time, when the sun rises substantially above the horizon. Obediently, you float down into his sights where you twirl playfully in the air in thanks for the view. He chuckles. "No problem," he says, and he leans down just enough to place a quick kiss in between your ears.

(In hindsight, perhaps you should have wished for more kisses in the following year if you thought that was actually something you could wish for.)

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Like the beginnings of a new arc, you lead Diluc onto the start of another campaign that lasts longer than normal and ties in with the previous adventures you have had with Diluc.

You find Aether on the shores east of Mondstadt. Diluc can only look at you curiously when Aether reveals his visionless powers and his desire to find his sister, for if there were ever any need for corroborating evidence on your talent or ability, Aether is living proof of it.

With the traveler, you resolve many of the things that neither you nor Diluc could comprehend. The red, crystalline tears are purified, the winds calm down with Dvalin’s defeat, and Venti-- or should you say, Barbatos-- as usual, disappears in a wisp of dandelions to leave the City of Freedom to its autonomy. In the breezes of Mondstadt, you can feel his protective gaze upon the city, and more often than not, you find him wandering in the tavern, looking for a quick drink that Diluc offers ‘reluctantly.’ (You know him better now; Diluc would rather hug Kaeya than admit that he cares for the people in his life more than he shows, and Venti is one of the people he can find a fondness for. You still find yourself abashed to know that you are the only one Diluc can say unashamedly and wholeheartedly that he adores you-- in his own way.)

Aether’s presence in Mondstadt is a breath of fresh air, considering how compassionate he is and how willing he is to help with the common troubles of those in the city. He is led along by Kaeya, tugged onto an impromptu date by Lisa, and given a mask to go undercover with Diluc and help him in ways that you cannot. The tug of jealousy is unfamiliar, but you are more glad than anything that Aether can be his partner during the most dangerous of missions. You tag along as moral support and as a guiding post-- and for that, you find yourself most similar to Paimon, who, for some reason, keeps being compared to emergency food. 

“You’re my companion,” Diluc tells you with finality when you look up at him, barely forming the thought in your head about being his emergency food. “Don’t doubt that.”

Turns out, people can not breathe when you are covering their entire face with your translucent body.   

When the dust settles, you never think of turning Aether down when he asks you if you can sense whether his sister is in Mondstadt. 

You leave with Aether and Paimon with the promise that you return to Diluc at the winery. You guide the two of them to Stormterror’s Lair, a place you have gotten far more acquainted with in the past month, and head up to the cliffside where a ruin guard’s footprints remain next to a dandelion. You can sense something here, though you are unsure of what, and you are about to apologize for finding nothing when Aether looks over to you with wet eyes.

You coo up at him comfortingly as he sighs with a mixture of relief and sadness. “Thank you,” he tells you, holding out his hand. You press against it, and you hope he knows that the best you can do to imitate a comforting hand-hold. “At least now I know for sure she’s here in this world.” He smiles at you. “This gives me a lot of hope that I’ll find her, so… thank you, really.” 

Aether leaves for Liyue in the next few days, and if you had known he would leave so soon you would have done more than held his hand. You wish you could comfort him, reassure him that his sister, too, must be looking for him just as hard as he was. (Even if this was not the truth, you think if you wish hard enough, you could maybe manifest it for him.) You have so many words within you and yet none of them are conveyed, and Aether’s sad smile stays. 

It gets hard sometimes, knowing how little you can do, and how much you could have done before-- and this is one of those moments. It is rare for you to feel melancholy over the things you no longer have, but they come and go like the waves on Falcon Coast. Without a word, Diluc can tell when you are feeling down, holding you when you fall into his hands. 

His kisses come more often now, and he places one between your ears when you are with him during your lower moods. You think your day improves almost immediately when he does so, but it helps tremendously also that Diluc never forgets to reassure you.

“If you want me to help you with anything,” he says, “you only need to ask."

You coo again, twirling once, nudging at his cheek before backing away just enough to look at him. If you had a heart (and you sometimes suspect you do), it would be beating quickly as you wait for him to decipher your actions.

“...Ah,” he says, picking you up again. You think for a moment he looks as embarrassed as you feel, but then he asks, “...Another one?” and places a second kiss onto your head. 

You trill, pleased that you are spoiled by Diluc and even happier that Diluc only joins you in your mirth when he huffs in laughter.

“What an honest seelie,” he says, and you could not be more content with how fond he sounds of you and how, again and again, he continues to be patient with you even when you cannot be patient with yourself.

.

.

Sometimes when the moon is high and Diluc is fast asleep, you find yourself at the place you first came to fruition as a seelie. The lake by the Winery and this exact scenery may as well be your birthplace. When you look into the reflection you see your orb-like features, viscous yet watery all at once, emitting light. 

But sometimes, when the only light is coming from the fireflies that glow beside you, you look into the lake and see a familiar face staring back at you. They have your face-- your eyes, your nose, your mouth, and your brows of a time when you were not a seelie. It’s the only time you get to see this image of your past self, reminding you of what you were before. Sometimes, you think you can hear your voice being carried over by the winds of another world, of another time. 

These moments are the only thing you have kept to yourself. 

After all, what’s the point of holding onto something that you no longer have? The man you’ve grown to care for-- grown to love-- is someone who has his eyes set forward toward the future, and you’re going to be there with him no matter what.

Although seelies cannot dream, you dream of carrying over the tray of tankards and washing the dishes in the tavern, of carrying Klee over your shoulders as you lead her to Albedo, of bumping elbows with Kaeya jokingly or placing a blanket over Jean’s shoulders when she falls asleep in her office again.

You dream of lacing your hands with Diluc’s, pressing your lips upon his temple, and hearing his heartbeat against his chest with a steady, grounding rhythm that reminds you you are home.

And sometimes, just dreaming is enough.

(And sometimes, it is not.)

.

.

Life goes on. You see more of Mondstadt and begin to know the land like the back of Diluc’s hand. Knights and adventurers alike know you as the little seelie, and whether they think you follow Diluc or Diluc follows you is up to each person’s interpretation. (Regardless, none of them are wrong.)  

You accompany Diluc when he trains Razor in Wolvendom, and you invite Bennett to adventure sometimes with the two of you. (The boy may be unlucky, but you’re a magnet of trouble, so you think you have some things in common. A lot more things explode when he accompanies you but Diluc can handle it.) You make sure Jean gets some rest (“Your seelie is, um… very…” “Stubborn?” “I was going to say determined.”) and follow Lisa around on her expired library book expeditions. (“You think she’s beautiful, don’t you?” Diluc says to you, and you wonder why you babble excuses to him-- You’re more beautiful!-- while he looks at you in amusement.)

You and Diluc spend more time with other people in comparison to before, but you still have quiet moments with just the two of you when the days are slow. You’ve been learning how to move small things even better than before, among other things, but with this skill in particular, you can actually slide the pieces on the chessboard when you play against Diluc, who looks on (fondly) as you do your best to carefully push the pieces with your body. 

You always end up knocking some down, but when you finally get a handle of it, you do it with such concentration that Diluc doesn't have the heart to offer help. He does, however, end up polishing the board so the pieces slide more easily. You notice it’s shinier but he doesn’t let you pay it any mind.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says to you, and you think the words I love you come to mind more often than not recently. 

Thank you, you trill instead, and you ache with a want that pulses ever so often when you want so much more than you have when Diluc reaches out to caress your head.

“Like I said,” Diluc says softly. “Don’t pay it any mind. It’s your move still, you know.”

And you move the pieces. And you pick the grapes in his vineyard. And you find artifacts of crimson for him. And you kiss the scars from the many years he has battled (with or without you). 

.

.

.

He gains another in the next, final battle with you as his seelie.

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.

Diluc has gotten hurt before. It’s inevitable with the number of enemies he faces, the number of times you run into enemy territory, but it has never been a problem for him to stand back up and fight. His fire burns brightly-- shine true is his motto, and Diluc lives those words as though they have been etched onto his soul. 

Much like fire, Diluc is relentless, and you can only follow him as he pushes through enemies, listens to his connections, and finds a den of thieves that have been terrorizing Springvale for months. The two of you should have known that their efficiency was because they were led on by the Fatui, but you fail to notice until they have you surrounded. 

You have every faith in Diluc to come out safe and sound, but it takes only one mistake for you to be reminded that there is a limit to everything. 

The blade slices through so quickly you aren’t sure what happened, but when Diluc pulls his hand back from the cut on his side to have it painted with blood, your heart drops.

“A little out of depth, don’t you think, Darknight Hero?” 

“I’d keep my tongue in my mouth if I were you,” Diluc growls, and you can only tremble in mid-air as your mind races with the things you can do-- only to think of all the things you cannot do. You almost miss what Diluc tells you with the way your hearing fuzzes. “Go back to Mondstadt and tell the Knights where these bandits are,” Diluc says, and you know it’s serious when Diluc thinks about reaching out to the knights. (This is partly true, you would realize later, that despite Diluc’s hesitance on being associated with the knights, he knows you would reach out to Kaeya or Jean if needed-- if not for him but so you would be taken care of.) 

You should have told Jean or Kaeya or Amber or even Lisa where the two of you had gone just in case things go awry. The thought never crossed your mind things could go wrong when you had Diliuc with you.

“You’ll find me again,” Diluc tells you softly when you hesitate, and you wonder how he can lie to you like that when his gloves are too bloodied to even hold you. “I promise.”

How could you ask me to do that? You plead, feeling tears well up again. How could you ask me to leave you?

“It’s okay,” Diluc tells you, and his bare hands are warm. “It’s fine.”

You are ripped out of Diluc’s hands when someone throws an electro grenade in the fire below Diluc’s feet. He’s still standing even after this, but a throwing knife hits him on the shoulder, another grenade to his left. You can do nothing but watch as Diluc is hurt, falling onto the ground. 

If there was ever a moment you wanted something so badly, you would have done anything to get it, it would be right here-- right now. 

You are the last thing he sees.

.

.

“You whose strength stems from your devotion, I shall lend you my power.”

.

.

You don’t know whose voice you heard or how somehow you have the hands to hold onto the Vision framed with Mondstadt wings in your hands, but you’ve learned not to question the good things in life-- one of them being your life at Diluc’s side.

Your voice is loud, you realize, when you shout at the bandits to leave. And your powers are strong-- strong enough to protect the person that matters most.

The bandits run at the fight sign of trouble, and the Fatui agent is unconscious. (You checked.)

You hold Diluc as he lies on your lap, breathing heavily but still breathing-- thank the archons. You quickly brush his hair away from his face and press on his wound, wincing when he lets out a grunt of pain even unconscious. I won’t let them hurt you, you think, taking one of his hands to brush your lips over his knuckles. (His hands are rough and calloused, but you love them just the same for how gently they held you when you were just a seelie.) If they come back, they’ll have to get through me. 

“Hello, mini seelie.” 

You look up from Diluc just in time to see a hand reach down to softly rustle your hair, much to your dismay. The initial reaction gives way to surprise when you recognize that the voice comes from none other than Kaeya. He grins down at you with his sword by his hip, and you frantically look around to see if the bandits had come back.

How did you--?

“Nice wings you got there,” Kaeya teases you, making you look back and find that oh, when did those get there? “Didn’t even notice them because you were too worried about Diluc, huh?” When you nod, he softens his gaze. “Why don’t you let us take care of things around here, hm?” He glances down at Diluc who has been sleeping soundly in your lap. “Let’s get him back home.” 

.

.

When a few knights come with a cart to ambulate Diluc back to Mondstadt instead of the winery (you couldn’t argue with Jean even if you did choose to speak; she’s stubborn when the people she cares about are hurt), you feel the tension leave your body all at once, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, you actually feel sleepy. 

“I’m glad we arrived right in the nick of time.” You turn to Kaeya who had been working behind the scenes, directing the knights. “You did good work, chasing them out of here so we could catch them easily,” he says, “I-- oof!” 

You tackle Kaeya into a grateful hug, and it takes him a few moments to respond by placing his hands onto your back and giving it a few pats. “There, there,” Kaeya drawls, but you can hear the smile in his voice anyways. “Better not hug too long; Diluc might be jealous that I’m the person you hug first, you know.”

You let go slowly, grinning up at him as though you agree, and you dodge Kaeya before he can mess with your hair again. On the way out of the camp, Jean gives you a smile, Amber waves excitedly at you before rounding up a few more bandits, and your cheeks hurt a little from the way Lisa pinched it. You go find Diluc where he’s being taken back in a horse-drawn cart and hold his hand until you’ve fallen asleep by his side.

(In his sleep, Diluc holds onto you.) 

.

.

.

Diluc wakes up twice. Once, very briefly, when your wings are expansive and when the Vision at your waist shines brightly with power. Before he wakes up the second time, you can already feel the power fade from both you and the Vision. 

You knew that your transformation was temporary; powers do not always last forever, especially since the glow of your Vision seems contingent on the cycles of the moon-- particularly the moon that you were born on. You think that you should feel more disappointed, but you don’t. You get to hold onto Diluc’s hand in yours and wipe away the sweat from his forehead as he sleeps, and you think that if you only get this one chance to do these things, then you will take what you can get. 

You will love Diluc as you are, no matter what form you take. Your transformation wasn’t necessary. Your powers were a bonus, but even if you weren’t granted a miracle, Diluc would have been safe, as a courtesy of Kaeya who had been trailing behind the two of you since you from the start. (Kaeya and Diluc's connections had the same info this time around, so they were bound to intersect at some point.) What you’ve been given was not the power to save Diluc, but the chance to love him in a way you have always dreamed of doing.

When Diluc opens his eyes the second time around, more aware and more awake, you almost don’t know what to do. It’s a momentary panic when you think he doesn’t know who you are, but he only needs to take one look at you before he raises his hand to caress your cheek as he’s always done. 

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m fine,” he soothes, though his voice is still raspy from disuse. “Don’t cry.” 

I can’t believe you wanted me to leave you behind. How could you tell me that? 

“...Sorry,” he says, and you raise your head from his bed just enough so he can wipe away the tears on your lashes. “It’s funny but even if you don’t talk, I can still understand you.” 

You watch as he slowly takes your hand and presses his palm against yours, lowering his fingers until they’ve interlocked with yours. “My seelie,” he says with all the warmth in the world. You can only nod before you’re wiping away the tears that spring up again. "Even in this form, you'll still lead me, right? Still find me if I get lost?"

You don't know what type of face you're making, but Diluc softens his gaze before shifting slightly in the bed offered to him by the church. "Come here," he whispers, arms outstretched.

You tentatively place your weight onto the bed, arms placed on each of his sides as you gingerly climb into bed with him. When he winces, you put a hand on his chest, alarmed, to stop him from exerting himself.

“I’m fine,” he says immediately, and when he looks at you, he bursts out laughing, only for him to wince again more strongly. “Sorry, your expressions-- they’re exactly how I imagined them.” He chuckles, though you purse your lips at him as you finally settle under the covers next to him. You make a sound of surprise when he leans over just enough to press a kiss onto your forehead. You hear his soft huff of laughter again when you bury your face into his chest out of embarrassment. “Still as easy to read as ever.”

You grab a hold of his shirt with your ears pressed against his sturdy chest. He gently rubs circles on your shoulder as you listen to his heartbeat, which is as steady as you have imagined it to be. It quickens ever-so-slightly, and you look up at Diluc in time to see him gaze down at you tenderly. “You don’t have to speak,” he says, brushing his hand across your cheek. “Nothing has to change at all. But there’s something I want to know.” You raise your hand to caress his hand (and he finds the courage to keep on speaking).

“Do you think you can tell me your name?” Diluc whispers, the most unsure you have ever seen him, and you think you’re so fond of him your heart (not just metaphorical this time) might burst from it.

It takes only a moment for you to decide to scoot yourself up just enough to kiss him on the side of his mouth, and you can't help but grin at the stupefied expression on his face. 

And you say your name. 

How interesting is it that it's the one thing you cannot convey through trills and twirls, cannot show through hugs and kisses? You never thought that your name could have such significance but you watch as Diluc's eyes widen and you think this moment is the gift the gods have given you. 

Diluc takes a moment to taste your name, and he calls out to you for the very first time out of many, many, many times.

.

Before the sun rises, Diluc wakes up to your bright glow and with your seelie body pressed up against his collarbone. He breathes your name into the quiet infirmary before he closes his eyes to sleep again.

.

.

.

.

You are found more often than you are lost. For every time Diluc calls your name-- as a seelie or as a human (fairy?)-- your heart soars as high as the anemograms at Brightcrown Mountain. 

As a seelie, your life with Diluc stays the same-- for the most part. No one treats you differently and no one loves you differently from when they knew you as just a seelie. If anything, the biggest change has been in Diluc's life where the stares from his admirers are more muted and the swoons reduced, for how could anyone continue to pine over someone that is so evidently preoccupied with someone else? (Even though they've only seen the person who Diluc holds in high regard once every new moon.)

Every adventure still has the same probability to go awry and Diluc still polishes the chessboard to perfection for you. Though on moonless nights, Diluc can hold you close, and you can hold him closer, saying his name (the second word you ever say) and hoping he can never feel quite as lost as before when you are here with him.

FIN

--

temp taglist

@creation-magician @inlustris-but-obey-me @lumi-ying  @thetwinkims @loveyoutothestars  @ninqat  @winterptilopsis  @nya-vivi  @just-noelle ​ @shr3ik

[mikkomacko]

Sweet As Honey 18

Hello everyone! Here she is! Thank you all so much for being so patient with me and this chapter. I hope it lives up to the hype and the wait lol. I'd also like to say that I will still be writing and finishing this series as well as my other in progress ones. However, I'm currently feeling like I'm not that interested in Harry right now and I feel like it's mostly all the drama and everything going on with him right now so updates will be slow. Also I've changed my theme to a Marvel x One Direction theme because I've decided to take one of my Bucky Barnes plot and actually publish it. I'll still post Harry because of course I love him but he won't be the main focus of this blog anymore.

Thanks for waiting and reading. Hope you enjoy the chapter! X

Harry's good under pressure. At least looking from the outside in, he is. It's a skills he's picked up from boxing. Always pretend you know what's going on. No surprises, no shocks. If he's in a fight and his opponent is stronger or faster than he originally thought, he doesn't show it. Acting like it was expected, like he planned it rattles others and helps him maintain his grace.

He keeps that same approach when it comes to interviews.

Liam meets him outside the gym, waving with a bright smile that Harry just smiles at, shocked to find his trainer in the parking garage rather than the ring.

"What's going on mate?" Harry greets, trying to step around him to get to the stairs but Liam halts him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Gotta reporter here who wants to chat with you about recovering from your concussion and reaching the finals."

His tone is laced with hesitance, lips pursed in suppressed grimace and Harry doesn't blame him. Liam knows how much Harry hates interviews. They're his least favorite part of the job. He's here to box and get paid, to provide for his family, not to tell the world every detail of his life.

"Oh," Harry mumbles, shrugging and stepping up to the door. "Alright. Only for a few minutes though, wanna get home a little early today."

If Liam is surprised by Harry's ease he doesn't show it. "Got something going on?"

Harry follows Liam inside, nodding to Mark at the front desk. "Y/n has just been exhausted lately and Arlo can't spend a second alone without screaming bloody murder. Just want to be there to make sure she's resting and Arlo's not being a pest."

"He's your son, of course he's being in a pest."

The comment leaves too much pride in Harry's chest for him to even care that Liam just insisted he himself is a pest. Besides, Harry knows he's clingy and a little too attached but that's just how his relationship with y/n is, and they love it.

In his private locker room,Harry finds the reporter, a young girl who can't be too far out of undergrad with dark hair and a bright red lips. She's sat on the bench, a notepad on her thigh and her phone resting next to it.

"Hello Mr. Styles." She greets, shaking his hand when he approaches her. "I'm Rebecca Weese."

Harry takes a seat next to her, nodding. "Nice to meet you. I don't have a lot of time today but I can answer a few of your questions if we can make it quick." He smiles guiltily, hoping to not come off as rude.

She nods, immediately glancing down at her notepad and crossing some things out. Harry assumes they're questions she's decided aren't important enough. "Is it ok if I record this? Just sound of course."

Again, he nods, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie as he waits for her to begin. Tapping at her phone, she places it between them to catch both voices and then scans her notes again.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but you've only been boxing for a few years, right?"

Harry shrugs. "I trained a lot when I was teenager, worked under Ted until he decided to bring me up to the pros. Was about 20 I think when that happened." He tries to stay vague, knowing he can't tell the public that his "training" was an illegal boxing ring.

"Five-Six years is a short amount of time to be included in a tournament like this one. Most contenders are well into their careers before being qualified to participate. What do you think has been the main factor in your success?"

Routine question, and he's got a routine answer. "I was fortunate enough to figure out early on that boxing is what I wanted to do and I think that helped out a lot. I also got a very good team behind me. My trainer, manager, my wife, they're all the main factors in my success. I'm very grateful to have them."

Rebecca smiles a bit, jotting down a few words. "Does your wife work in the industry?"

It's her casual tone, as if she were a friend just wanting to hear him brag about his lover that has him answering so honestly.

"No she works in design but I met her early in my career and she's always supported me. Takes care of me after bad matches and whatnot, always comes to my fights even if it means being on her feet for hours. Which isn't exactly her favorite thing at the moment with the baby-"

Harry stops, eyes widening a bit at what he's just revealed. Part of him wishes desperately that Rebecca didn't hear him but he knows that's impossible.

"I didn't know you're a father," she says kindly, sensing his panic. "Do you want to talk about it more or should I scratch that part?"

He doesn't know what makes him say it. A year ago he'd have fled the room if he were questioned about his family. Harry likes to keep them separate, to keep his kids away from his boxing. It's possibly a small part of him that's conditioned to keep his work a secret from his family even if he doesn't have to. But Rebecca's offer to drop the whole topic is what breaks him.

"S'ok," he says "I've got a son that's about a year old and another on the way."

Her eyes light up, beaming at him and he grins shyly but somehow proudly at the same time. "That's awesome. Congrats. I know your son's young but does he have any part in your career? Influence maybe?"

"He doesn't watch any of my fights or anything. Too young to be around violence like that but he does affect my fighting in a way. I used to go into boxing with just the mentality that I'm doing something I love, but now I've got the added success. A win means more support for my family and I want them to always have what they need so I've got sort of an edge there."

"Like having something to fight for?" She confirms, and Harry nods immediately.

"Yeah. I'd do anything for them and I think that makes me a bit dangerous in the ring."

No matter what, he'll always be fighting for them. Everything he does is for y/n and his boys.

~

The house smalls of tomato sauce and pasta when Harry walks in, mouth instantly watering and stomach rumbling. He had a light breakfast this morning before going to the gym and now that's he burnt off all that energy he reckons he could eat a horse. Dropping his keys on the table in the entryway, toeing off his sneakers, and dropping his gym bag to the floor, Harry makes a beeline for the kitchen. He's so caught up in wanting to eat he doesn't notice the TV playing a Disney movie or the two figures sprawled out on the couch until one of them is calling for him.

"Daddy!" Arlo's head pops up over the cushions, dimples sunk into his cheeks and eyes bright. Harry immediately changes course, coming up behind the couch and meeting Arlo's outstretched arms.

"'Ello bug," Harry greets, smacking a kiss to his cheek. Arlo coos happily, curling up against Harry's shoulder. Y/n is watching them with a small smile, a hand resting easily over the stretched fabric of his tee-shirt she's wearing. "And hello darling." He leans over the back of the couch to press a crooked kiss to her lips.

"Hi baby," she sits up, smiling dreamily at him. "How was the gym?"

Harry shrugs, adjusting Arlo on his hip. "Was good. I had an interview today about finals and....stuff." Her eyebrow quirks up at his hesitancy to continue.

"What stuff?"

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Harry drops his gaze to Arlo. "You, Arlo, the baby." She doesn't respond immediately and he knows it’s because she’s trying to analyze him. He's fairly private about his family, especially his children and the only reason he'd informed the world of Arlo was to get people off his back about leaving y/n, so he knows she's probably confused by his ease with talking about the new baby.

"How'd it go?" She asks, pushing herself up from the couch with a hand on her belly. Without hesitation Harry reaches out to place his free hand over hers, moving her with him towards the kitchen. "Where are we going?"

"M'starving darling," he says and his stomach grumbles in agreement, making Arlo gurgling back and nudge his foot into Harry's tummy. "But interview went well. Announced the pregnancy."

"You did?" She questions, perching herself on the counter stool with wide eyes. "Seems a bit early compared to Arlo's announcement."

Managing as best he can with one free hand, Harry retrieves a bowl from the cabinet and serves himself a heaping mountain of spaghetti. "Just came out if m'being honest," he shrugs, settling into the stool next to her with Arlo still glued to his lap. "'sides it's different this time. He was my first baby and I was scared."

He doesn't realize that she's fallen silent until he's slurping back noodles and she doesn't scold him. Curiously, Harry rotates just enough to look at her. Y/n is staring at him, eyes big and moony when he mumbles a suspicious "wha'?"

"You were scared?"

Swallowing down his food, he nods. Her intent gaze brings a blush to his cheeks and he has to drop his eyes to peer down at Arlo. "Y-yeah. Didn't know if he'd like me as his dad, ya know?"

Harry's never said those words out loud, now that he's come to think of it. Whenever something's pertained to Arlo, Harry was always the positive reinforcement, the one reassuring y/n about them stepping into parenthood. He never really told her how much it scared him because he didn't want to scare her.

"I-I didn't know that," she mumbles. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He shrugs, lifting his gaze from Arlo to y/n. "Because I wanted to be a good dad. Ya know, like the kind that can kill spiders and scare aware bad dreams.....Just wanted to be strong I guess."

He doesn't say it, but he knows she's picked up the fear he won't acknowledge. He doesn't want to be his dad. His father was great but the sad thing is, everything great about him was brought out by alcohol. Des needed that poison to combat his own fears and insecurities, and Harry doesn't want to be like that too. He doesn't want to leave his kids the same way he was left.

"Being scared doesn't make you weak Harry."

She leans over to press a tender kiss to his jaw, belly brushing against his side, and he thinks about those words for the remainder of the day.

~

Crouched down, Harry steers the shopping cart with one hand and guides Arlo along with the other one. By the way he's trudging along, Harry knows Arlo is getting tired of walking. It's good for him to practice though, so Harry leads him along for another few minutes before scooping him up in one arm.

"Did so well bug." Harry compliments, pecking Arlo's cheek. The toddler curls up into his chest, yawning. It's a bit difficult steering the cart with one hand but Harry manages, steadily making his way up and down each aisle. He gets baby cereal for Arlo, a couple bags of puffy hot Cheetos to stash in the cabinets, and he's stocking up on y/n's latest craving (spaghetti-o's and meatballs) when a familiar face rounds the corner.

Zayn is pushing a cart filled groceries, eyes scanning up and down the shelves and Harry curses under his breath. The last person he wants to see right now is Zayn. Last time they had a run in he said something that bothered y/n and Harry never wants anything to bother his girl.

In an attempt to hide, Harry pulls his hood up over his head, shrinking into his pullover and craning his neck to not make eye contact with his old friend. Grabbing a few cans of the fake pasta y/n is living off of, Harry sets them in the cart and quickly walks down the aisle. A man who looks a few years older than Harry moves towards him, stepping around Zayn and in front of Harry's cart.

"Excuse me," the man stops him, gaze dropping to the boy against his chest for half a second before regretfully meeting Harry's eyes. "m'so sorry to bother, didn't notice the little one-"

"It's fine." Harry cuts off, glancing at Zayn to make sure his back is still to them. It is and Harry relaxes a bit at that, but his curiosity grows. "How can I help you sir?"

The man smiles, grateful. "I just wanted to tell you that m'son and I are big fans and we're excited for your fight this weekend."

Harry knows he has fans, he's run into a few around the city but they're usually teens and kids that want an autograph. He's never had a grown man approach him about his career and it's odd. Flattering, but odd.

"Thanks man. I really appreciate your support." Harry says sincerely, smiling. The man nods in response, taking a step away from Harry. He moves to leave but stops last minute, turning back to Harry.

"Congrats on the baby news too." He says quickly, almost shy or embarrassed. Before Harry can even thank him, the man is rushing out a "have a good day" and then he's moving down the aisle.

Confused, Harry stands there for a moment trying to figure out what happened. He knew announcing the new baby would bring more attention to him in the media and he's not surprised that that man, who's clearly a fan, had already heard it. He is surprised that the man seemed almost scared to admit to Harry that he knows.

"Harry?"

Fuck.

He looks up, meeting the golden eyes that could only belong to Zayn. Harry doesn't even bother trying to smile at his old friend as he stands in front of Harry's cart. A lady maneuvers around them, murmuring a soft "excuse me sir." Harry scoots his cart over, smiling apologetically.

"How have you been man?"

Harry's gaze returns to it's impassive expression, glancing over Zayn's too-bright presence. "I've been good." Harry responds, moving Arlo to his other arm when he starts to lose feeling in his fingers. The movement draws Arlo out of his nap-like state, the toddler now noticing Zayn standing in front of them. Immediately his face scrunches into a look of annoyance.

If Zayn notices, he must not care because he smiles at Arlo, teeth dazzling. "That's good to hear. Congratulations on the baby, by the way! Saw the article up front. S'amazing!"

Article? Harry lips are just starting to form his question when his phone rings, the tune specific to y/n. "Sorry, gotta take this." Harry says in Zayn's direction, digging into his pocket and retrieving his phone. He hits answer before Zayn can even respond.

"Hi darling."

Harry wiggles Arlo into the basket. "Hi H. You still at the store?"

He pushes the cart down the aisle, not caring that he's left his old friend hanging. "Yeah I am. What's up"

The sound of a running faucet comes through the speaker. "Forgot to add yogurt bites to the list. Arlo ate the last of 'em last night and ya know how he is if he doesn't have any before bed."

Harry snorts, steering towards the baby food aisle. Arlo has fallen in love with yogurt bites and they've become his snack before bed. Harry thinks he shouldn't be having them every night and he'd tried to tell Arlo that two nights ago, but Arlo is a stubborn thing. He screamed his head off, ignored Harry's attempts at giving him fresh fruit instead, and then only calmed down after y/n nursed him.

"I'll grab 'em darling. No worries." He assures, tossing a couple bags of the bites into the cart. "Anything else?"

"Do we still have the old flower vases from our wedding in the garage?" She asks.

"Umm, I think so. You expecting flowers from a secret lover or something?" Harry jokes, eyes catching on a pack of bibs hanging in the aisle.

"Not unless you've got a trick up your sleeve Styles." She retorts.

He tosses a pack into the basket. "Buy you a whole flower shop if that's what ya want darling." Arlo grumbles from the baby seat of the cart, tiny fingers coming up to play with the rings on Harry's fingers that are locked around the steering bar.

"Don't worry about that, we've got enough flowers." Y/n laughs and he can hear her moving around the house. "Three bouquets just arrived with congratulations cards."

"What?"

"Guess the baby announcement was well accepted." She says. "We're getting lots of flowers for it."

Pushing towards the checkout, Harry frowns in confusion. "Got stopped by a fan today for the same thing. Can't believe it's such a big deal."

"Well you're more known now than when we were having Arlo." She reasons, and Harry hums his agreement. He passes the self checkouts, freezing when he spots numerous copies of his face on the ends of the aisle.

"Holy shit," he breathes, not even thinking about the innocent ears before him. Y/n gasps through the phone, scolding him for his language. "Sorry darling, s'just I'm bloody plastered all over the grocery store."

He reads over the cover of the sports magazine. It's got a big photo of him in the ring, gloves held up to his chin and jaw tight around his mouth guard. Next to it is a photo of him and y/n leaving a big fight awhile back. She's got her head down, hand snug in his as he leads her along. And written in bold yellows is "Harry Styles Expecting Baby #2 As He Prepares for Biggest Fight Yet!"

"They put me on the front page." He tells her, not bothering to flip open the article before he's quickly moving away from the display. "Why would they do that?"

When he did that interview, he thought it'd be a small, breezy section in the magazine. If he had known he'd be getting stopped in the grocery store and flowers sent to his house he wouldn't have said anything. As previously mentioned, he's a private guy, so having this detail projected in a way he wasn't warned about makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

"It's alright Harry," y/n says reassuringly, knowing that he's become anxious at the publicity. "No harm done. It's just flowers bub and as long as we've got those vases in the garage, everyone will survive."

He chuckle weakly at her joke, picking an aisle so he can quickly checkout and go home. "Don't go digging around for them by yourself, don't need ya falling and getting hurt. I'll help ya when I get home."

"Aw my hero." She coos, and he knows she's teasing but it still makes him blush. God he loves her.

~

"Those bloody things are making my nose itch." Harry grumbles, aggressively rubbing the palm of his hand into his burning nostrils. He glares at the bouquet of peonies on the dresser, a gift from y/n's co-workers, and moves towards the bed.

Y/n is propped up against the headboard, a pair of his pajama bottoms on her legs but her shirt has been abandoned on the carpet by the bed. Arlo is attached to her hip, mouth latched to her nipple and she's stroking through his soft hair while he breastfeeds. Harry's heart throbs in his chest, warmed by the sight of his wife coddling their baby, and he's so fucking in love with her he's anxious to get Arlo into bed so he can have his way with her.

"I can't just throw them out, H." She sighs, pulling her gaze from the television to his pouty face. He huffs, running the damp towel in his hand through his hair one last time before haphazardly tossing it towards the closet. Kneeing his way up the bed, he curls into y/n's side and smiles when she tucks her arm around him.

"Stroke my hair too?" He mumbles, peering up with puppy eyes and she giggles before threading her fingers through his hair too. Arlo gurgles around a mouthful, bright green eyes opening to look at Harry. He worries for a moment that Arlo is going to get fussy and kick him away, but the toddler just blinks at him sleepily.

"Tha's ma boy." He coos fondly, squirming a hand over to pat Arlo's full tummy. Y/n giggles and continues to stroke his hair, Harry watching Arlo slowly be soothed to sleep. "Lemme get him to bed darling."

Grunting, he pushes himself up from the mattress and too his feet. Y/n transfers Arlo to his awaiting arms, swiping at the milk that dribbled out of his snoring lips and onto her skin. Harry leans down, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Wanna have a shag when I get back?"

A shocked laugh bursts out of her, Harry's face lighting up at the sound as his heart swells. He was trying to be a bit silly, not enough to have her eyes crinkling like that, but he's happy she finds him funny.

"Sure baby." She breathes, still grinning. His stomach flutters, excitement bubbling in his belly and he nods quickly before moving across the room.

Arlo stays cuddled into Harry's neck as he flicks on the nightlight in the nursery and adjusts the blankets in the crib. Theo watched Harry from his bed in the corner, sleepy puppy eyes following his every move. He lays Arlo down, gently shushing him when he store and tucks Bunny into his side. With a peck to his head and a quiet "good night bug," Harry partially shuts the bedroom door and rushes back into the bedroom.

Y/n has already kicked off her bottoms, leaving her naked on their sheets and Harry groans as he works to catch up with her. His shirt is playfully tossed at y/n's grinning face, Harry laughing as he wiggles out of his sweats. Naked as the day he was born, Harry jumps onto his knees at the bottom of the bed.

A laugh bubbles out of y/n when the whole bed shakes under his weight, clearly amused at how excited he is. She must be just as excited though because she quickly leans forward to cup his face, attaching their lips and bringing him back down to the pillows with her.

"Wanna be on top," he mutters into her mouth, ghosting his hand down her tummy and tickling his thumb over her clit. "f'that's ok?"

"Mmm," she hums, happily "too tired to top anyway."

Harry seals their lips together again, using his knees to spread her thighs a bit further apart for him. Her palms smooth down his sides and around to his back, a breathy moan interrupting their kiss courtesy of his fingers. Harry utilizes the chance to break away and snag a pillow from his side of the bed, urging her hips up by tapping the fluffy thing against her side. She lifts, and he settles it under her lower back and bum to prop her up. Luckily for him, he's had a lot of practice getting around a baby bump for a shag.

Settling between her thighs, Harry giggles when she wraps her legs around his hips and tugs him closer. His body hovers over hers, love-sick smiles a breath away from meeting each other, and he drags his fingers through her folds, groaning at how slick she's become.

"Don't even have to try anymore do I?" He teases with a wolfish smile, capturing her lips just as she rolls her eyes. Giggling, he leaves soft kisses across her cheek, heading towards the base of her jaw.

"S'the baby's fault honestly." She argues, her fingers disappearing into the damp locks sticking to the back of his neck.

He hums, smirking against her skin. "Is it?"

With a small tug she's pulling him back up to her mouth. "Yeah. Gets me revved up all the bloody time. I don't know what you're putting in there mister but it's exhausting."

Harry laughs quietly, nipping at her bottom lip. "Don't worry baby, I'm gonna take care of ya. S'my problem after all, isn't it?"

Y/n nods, biting back a grin as Harry grips his cock with the fingers that had previously been fondling her. Chest to chest, Harry smiles at the feeling of their stomachs pressed together as he guides the head of him into her slit.

The sigh that puffs out of her chest sends a zip of pleasure up his spine, as if she'd been partial without him and the pure relief of just having him in her is all she could ever want. Harry hums appreciatively, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in how warm and gooey she is for him. He'd almost forgotten how it felt to have her this desperate for him and his touch.

"Oh it's so good darling," he mumbles to her, dropping his head into the crook of her neck. He pulls his hips back, breath stuttering when he easily slips forward again.

Y/n moans softly, dropping one hand to the small of his back as if guiding him. "So so good H." She confirms in a whisper, her voice tickling his ear and he squirms with a small laugh at the sensation.

Harry's soft with his movements, cautious of the baby between them and the one sleeping down the hall. Even the kisses he places on her jaw and lips are tender, small brushes between their confirmations that he "feels so good" inside her and she was "made for being wrapped me huh?" And Harry thinks nothing ever been truer. Her arms were made to hold him, her hands were made for pulling him closer and closer, and her heart was made to completely consume his.

Y/n reaches her high before him, rolling her hips up to try and quicken his but he maintains his sensual thrusts, stroking her temple as she trembles and gasps, clinging to him in every way possible. There's something about how quick she falls apart for him when she's pregnant and how utterly earth shattering it is for her, that it completely obliterates any sense of stamina Harry's ever had. He couldn't care less when he follows shortly after, grinding down into her heat as his cock twitches and buries deep in her walls. She's the one stroking his temple this time, and he knows she's watching his eyes scrunch shut and his gaping mouth curl into a breathy laugh as he comes.

Maybe it's the lingering anxiety that washed over him at the grocery store, but when y/n kisses him and gently nudges him off of her so she can go pee, Harry's desperate as he grips her hand and pouts, practically begging when he asks "can I get back in ya after? Just to fall asleep darling?"

Of course she nods, brushing sweaty curls from his forehead to soothe him and just like that he already feels lighter. He never has to sorry with her, because they were made for loving each other.

~

"Oh fuck!"

"Would you stop being so loud! It's 8 in the morning!"

"Can't help it, darling."

Harry tightens his hold around y/n's thighs, dipping his tongue back into her slit and groaning loudly despite the warning she's already given him this morning. She tugs on his hair scoldingly, drawing a pained hiss out of him. Harry brings his teeth up to her clit, nibbling in retaliation. A pained hiss of her own leaves her lips, cut off by a soft moan as he soothes his tongue over the spot.

Grinding her hips up into his mouth, Harry can't help but push his own into the mattress and a deep groan escapes him as he does so. Huffing, y/n scolds him again for being too loud when they've got a sleeping child one room over.

"Stop yelling at me so I can make you cum." He purrs, lips brushing over her clit. Their eyes meet over the curves and dips of her body, Harry smirking when she raises a prodding eyebrow at him. He kisses her thigh just once, lapping his tongue through her slit and he's just reaching her most sensitive spot when the beginning stirs of Arlo waking up break through the baby monitor.

Simultaneous groans leave both their mouths, this time of frustration. Harry pouts, knocking his forehead on y/n's hip bone and shaking his head.

"I told you Styles." Y/n teases, stroking through his hair for a second. He can't even think of a rebuttal before Arlo is calling out softly for her, and she's pushing up from the bed to get dressed.

"Take care of that while I take care of this." She calls as she disappears through the door, snickering softly and leaving him there desperate for her. But then again, when is he not desperate for her?

~

Hey man, hope I'm not being a bother. I was just wondering if you wanted to go out for a drink Friday or something?

-Z

Harry stares at the message, wondering why Zayn would sign it when the Instagram handle is clearly him. He also wonders why the hell Zayn is trying to hang out with him now.

It's a sunny day, the air outside relatively warm for March so Harry slipped a sweater on Arlo and brought him out to the backyard to play. They're sat in the grass, Arlo between his legs as they teach Theo to play fetch. Arlo's gotten good at tossing the chew toy himself, so Harry used the free time to start clearing out the congratulations messages he's received on Instagram.

"What's the matter H?"

Harry locks his phone, tilting his head up and squinting into the sun as y/n stands over them. She's got a bowl of puffy hot Cheetos in her hand, cradling them as if they were a precious gem as she settles into the grass with them.

"Nothing," he mumbles, pecking her temple when she leans into his side. "just got a weird text from Zayn. He wants to hang out."

Crunching through a chip, she hums. "Did you know he lives here?"

She lifts up a Cheeto, offering it to him. Harry gladly takes it between his teeth, pulling it from her fingertips and crunching down on the puffy chip. Swallowing, he shakes his head.

"Ran into him at the store once around Valentine's Day," she says, eyes watching Arlo dig his stubby fingers into the dry grass. "Was trying to talk to me about you I think but your son threw a fit and I was too busy to care honestly."

"Really?" Harry asks, perking up at the idea of Arlo throwing a tantrum to keep people away from y/n. That's the only time he'll agree with such actions. "Taught him well then haven't I?"

Rolling her eyes, she elbows him. "If you're son grows up to be rude I'm going to kick your ass Harry Styles."

Laughing, he steals a chip from her, locking his phone and dropping it to the grass. Arlo, interested in the device, crawls over to pick it up.

"Wouldn't expect anything less darling." He says, reaching over to swipe his phone to the camera so Arlo can snap random pictures.

"What are you going to do about Zayn then?"

"Suppose I should see what he wants, yeah?"

Y/n shrugs but Harry can read the look on her face easily. She's always silently encouraged him to face things that need mending or fixing, and his past with Zayn is one of those things.

"S'done then," he laughs, pinching her side affectionately. "I'll figure out why he's so obsessed with me."

She laughs, throwing her head back and scrunching her nose in the way makes him want to stare at her forever. "Think it's that one he's obsessed with. Look how cute he is."

Harry follows her line of sight, smile growing at the sight of Arlo making faces at himself in Harry's camera.

So bloody cute.

~

"Are we gonna be besties? I think we're gonna be besties." Niall states, swinging an arm around y/n's shoulders. He's on his third beer of the night already and Harry hasn't even made it to the ring yet. Y/n just laughs, continuing to maneuver tape around Harry's fingers but he's not as kind.

Casting a glare at the Irish man, Harry calls out to Gemma. "Get your leprechaun off of my girl before I use him to warm up."

Niall isn't really phased by the words, only pouting softly at Harry's steel gaze but Gemma is quick to rush over and pull Niall up from the couch by his hand.

"Come on babe, let's go find our seats." She coos to him, sending Harry an apologetic smile. He waits for her and Niall to turn their backs before chuckling softly. Y/n pinches at his wrist.

"Be nice to Niall. I really like him."

"Oh you really like him, huh?" Harry huffs, nudging his knee against hers. She rolls her eyes, giggling when he slips his free hand around her waist and pulls her into his lap. "Please tell me how much you really like Niall darling." He requests, shoving his face in her neck and playfully biting at her throat and shoulder. Just as he'd expected, she giggles and squirms, Harry having to wrap her up in a bear hug to keep her from sliding right off his thigh.

"Harry! Stop!"

He laughs with her, moving up to bite at the apples of her cheeks and her nose, growling as if he were a rabid beast. His freshly taped knuckles ache under the tightness of the wrap as he grips her flailing legs but he ignores it in favor of listening to her laugh.

"I like you more! I swear!" She shouts between laughs, wiggling a hand free and gripping the back of his neck. Pleased with her words, Harry pants out a laugh before sealing his mouth to hers.

"Tha's good because I like you more than Niall too." He mumbles into her lips.

"You like me more than you like everyone." She chuckles, stroking her thumb along his jawline. Harry's eyes shine with delight, proud that she knows her place in his heart, but he still teases.

"Mmm almost darling. Quite like my son, ya know that?"

She rolls her eyes but looks at him fondly, pinching the meat of his cheek. "Cute," she murmurs, "now go get ready for your fight baby. Want everyone to see my husband's gonna be the national champion."

Her words bring a rush of blood to his cheeks (and his cock if he's being honest), but he nudges her onto the couch next to him. "Just need two more wins." He whispers in her ear, pecking her temple.

Just two more wins.

~

There's good fights and there's bad fights. Everyone knows that. But not everyone knows that there's good wins and bad wins. Harry's experienced a few of those bad ones. Wins that he probably shouldn't have gotten because he certain his opponent had landed more punches and the judges miscounted. Or it was clear the other fighter wasn't into it and let him win.

Harry thinks tonight is his worst win ever.

The fight had been good. Trinsky, tonight's opponent from New Jersey, was short and stocky but strong. Harry was quicker than him though so they'd gone back and forth for a few rounds. Nothing two rough, just enough punches to have bright red welts on his torso and an ache in his jaw.

He fought through it though, fueled by the sounds of y/n and Niall cheering for him. Win this fight and he's onto the championship match. So he went at it with all he had left, charging Trinsky just as the man knocked his fist into Harry's temple.

It felt like a lightning bolt of pain zapped through his brain, shaking his core and causing his feet to stumble. Trinsky slid to the right as Harry crashed into the ropes, blinking furiously as the room around him spun. He was still in a daze as his body moved on its own, quick enough to uppercut his left fist into Trinsky's chin. The man crumbled to the mat, out cold, and Harry's dizzy head brought him down as well.

There's cheering and an announcement of his name, declaring Harry the winner but he can't seem to focus on it. Trinsky is being moved from the ring by his team, Harry falling to his bum on the mat as he rips at the velcro of his gloves with his teeth.

The room is coming back into focus, someone is calling him from the side of the ring but he doesn't recognize the voice so it goes ignored. He gets his hands free, rubbing his fingers into the tender spot on his head and wincing. He needs to take some Advil and ice it.

Harry climbs to his feet, a bit disoriented as he ducks under the ropes to leave. He knows he's got a team here somewhere but his mind can't seem to recognize what they look like or how to find them.

"Man, what are you doing?"

He turns, confused to find two men watching him like he's grown a second head. Harry feels like he knows the warm brown eyes of the taller man but he's not sure from where. Smiling uncomfortably, he motions behind him.

"I n-need ice or something." He says, excusing himself with a shrug and turning back to the locker room. He doesn't like the way his stomach twists or how his chest is telling him he knows those men when he couldn't even tell you there names right now. His heart thunders in his chest, panic seeping in and he's desperate to find something or someone that'll just help him out.

"Harry baby," she says calmly, a hand rubbing up his bare back comfortingly. "you okay?"

Y/n appears at his side, head tilted so she can meet his nervous gaze. Almost immediately he latches onto her hand, shaking his head. Her eyebrows crease, lips frowning as she reaches to cup his cheek.

"What's going on H? What's the matter?"

"M'head hurts," he answers immediately. "I-I think I forgot my team."

A trembling breath leaves his lips, tears stinging behind his eyes when he sees the concern on his wife's face. She brushes her thumb over his temple, the one she knows got hit the hardest, and then brushes a sweaty strand of hair off his forehead to place a tender kiss there.

"Let's get you to the locker room babe."

He follows like a lost puppy, trailing behind her through the back hallway and into his locker room. Y/n closes the door behind him before anyone else can enter, twisting the lock. Harry sits in the closest chair, fiddling with the tape on his fingers as he tries to calm down.

"Do you want to talk to me bub?" Y/n asks quietly, pulling up a seat directly in front of him. He nods, lifting his gaze from his hands to her face.

"I don't know what happened. It's like I got hit in the head and everything got shook up." He explains, frowning. He hates the way this feels. Hates that his body is screaming at him to just remember but his brain refuses to accept the message. "I know them, I know I do but s'like their names and stuff are just gone."

Y/n inhales sharply, biting nervously at her bottom lip. Harry's not even sure what to say and that makes him feel so much worse. He doesn't even feel like he has a concussion, not really. Everything else is still there, still in the forefront of his mind. His wife, his boys, Anne and Gemma. And he faintly remembers sitting at bars with one of the men from his team, remembers crashing on his couch late at night. But the soul of those memories are gone.

"I'm gonna get you some painkillers and water okay babe? Then we'll figure out what to do."

He nods, smiling wetly when she kisses his forehead. Watching her move around the room to gather water and whatnot, Harry wills himself to just think. He knows these men, he's just gotta focus on it. A memory stands out, one of the three of them in a car on a road trip. His trainer is driving, his manager in the passenger seat and he knows this is a trip for a match. A recent match too because he remembers saying goodbye to Arlo and y/n, kissing her swollen belly before he went.

Y/n returns to him with a bottle of water and a couple pills, watching him cautiously as he squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to just think. Recalling conversations from the car, remembering the screen in the front of the vehicle that reads Connected to Liam's iPhone. Liam. Almost instantly Nick's name floods his brain again and he feels his whole body tremble with relief.

Harry takes the medicine, gulping it down and slumping into his seat. "Nick and Liam," he finally murmurs, voice thick. "I couldn't remember darling. They were right in front of me and I couldn't remember their fucking names."

A silent tear trails down his cheek, Harry sniffling as y/n wipes it away with a tender touch he's only felt from her. "Its ok Harry. We'll figure out what happened. At least you remember now baby." She tried to comfort, but Harry's heart still aches.

"What if-" he peers up at her through wet eyelashes. "what if it had been you? Or Arlo? Or all three of you? What if I-"

He can't even finish the thought before he's shaking his head, more tears slipping down his cheeks and jaw. What would he have done if he'd looked at y/n and not remembered her name? Not remembered the beautiful son they created? Or the one she's growing now?

"It wasn't Harry," she stays sternly, cutting into his spiralling thoughts. "it wasn't and even if it did happen, it wouldn't change a thing. You're not getting rid of us."

Trying to smile, he nods and takes a deep breath. He trusts her, more than anyone, and he's never known someone that fights as much as she does. He knows, no matter what, that she'll always have his back.

[nejibaby]

The Sun

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Reader

Summary: If there’s two things common between you and Icarus, they’re 1) you both tried to get too close to the sun, and 2) you’re both mortal — vulnerable and susceptible to the pain that comes with it.

This is initially intended to be the second part of Burn, but this can also be considered a standalone fic. 😊

[I also tweaked the story of Icarus and Daedalus a little bit so they can fit the One Piece universe. Hope you don’t mind.]

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: So you see I’m trying out this new writing style, but I’m not sure if it turned out how I wanted it to be. But please let me know your thoughts about it~

Icarus.

Back when you still lived in your hometown, as a child, you have grown to like the tales of sailors who docked at your island. There’s this story about one of the first ever heard of uses of devil fruit powers.

It’s about a master craftsman named Daedalus imprisoned in some far away kingdom with his son, Icarus. With their cell up high in the castle and the ground filled with guards, there was no means to escape for an average person. But Daedalus was all sorts of things other than average; he’s a father, a genius, and a devil fruit user of the Doru Doru no Mi. And because of those, he has found a way to get out of the kingdom through something that only he can make: wings made out of candle wax.

“Don’t fly too close to the sun or else the heat will melt the wax and you’ll fall into the sea.” A fair warning from Daedalus to Icarus as he handed a pair of wings to his son, who only nodded in response.

Their escape went on without a hitch with the help of the wings. However, because of the delectable taste of freedom, the further away they had gone from the kingdom that constricted them, the more precarious Icarus got. He flew higher and higher and higher, until his wings started melting. And only when he was falling to the sea did he notice that the wings had melted off completely. Even Daedalus had noticed it too late, and all he could’ve done was lament for his son who didn’t heed his words.

“It was tragic,” the sailor once told you. But all you could ever think about back then was that Icarus was dumb. Foolish. Idiotic. Stupid. Moronic.

Why would he fly higher when he knew the risks? It just didn’t make sense. There was no rational explanation, no sensible justification for it.

But now that you’re older, you might have found a possible reason why he did what he did.

Maybe, just like you, he fell in love with the sun.

The Sun.

Icarus might have fallen in love with the sun. But who are you to judge him? The sun is bright, brilliant, warm, and enticing. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to be guided by its light, to bask in its warmth, to ever so gently be caressed by its flames. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to be nearer, despite the repercussions.

You can’t call him out because you did just the same. Ace was — no — is your sun.

With his charming and boyish smile that’s always capable of cheering you up, you can mistake him as the light. He’s like the sun peeking from the clouds after a stormy day, or the sun rising after the darkest night.

In his embrace, no matter how momentary, anyone would be able to feel his care. Hell, even with his arm slung over your shoulder or his mere presence beside you, you would feel a sense of security. Because Ace is also the warmth and the comfort. Pretty much like the gentle rays of the sun enveloping you with a blanket after a cold breeze.

But you also know that like the sun, he too is dangerous. The least he can do is to burn you. And at the very worst, he could be destructive.

The Fall.

When Icarus got too close to the sun, his wings melted and naturally, he fell into the sea. There were no stories about how he felt or what was in his mind when it happened, but recently you’d like to imagine that he was content.

Falling is scary, that much is true. But falling can also be exhilarating and thrilling — it’s feeling only your weightlessness, the breathlessness, the adrenaline flowing through your blood.

You’d like to think that as Icarus fell, his thoughts were about how he did not regret what he did. In the end, he got his freedom and then he made a brave choice of going after his love. Isn’t it better to have felt the burning light than never at all? Isn’t it better to have a taste of love albeit briefly?

You’re no Icarus. You’re not a child of a genius, and you have no wings that’ll melt once you get close to your sun. But for you, the answer to these questions is yes.

You’re grateful to have experienced being by Ace’s side. You’re happy to have seen his smiles and to have heard his laughs. You’re content to have been the recipient of his sparing touches.

And as you ran with bloodied hands and injured parts after escaping from the Blackbeard Pirates, you’re pleased that it was you in this predicament and not Ace. He’s safe and it’s because of you. And despite standing face to face with death just moments ago, you’re delighted because you accomplished your mission to get information about their plans.

If there’s one thing you and Icarus should regret though, it’s being vulnerable and susceptible to pain.

The Reunion.

Icarus did not live long enough to be reunited with the sun. But you did. Your body might have been littered with scars now, but the important thing is that you survived. You’re alive, you’re healed, and you’re at peace.

And you’re back with the Whitebeard Pirates.

Whitebeard, the Division Commanders, and the former members of the Spade pirates are quick to reprimand you for your rash actions once you board the ship. You listen to their sentiments quietly, understanding the severity of your decision, but you stand by your ground, telling them you didn’t regret doing it, especially since you’ve gotten valuable information about Blackbeard. And once you’ve relayed everything to them, they all quickly let you off the hook.

All except one, of course.

You’re just about to retire to your room when Ace softly asks, “Yo, can we talk?” once you pass him by.

The sun is always so inviting. It’s capable of luring you out of whatever cave you’re hiding in. That’s the aura Ace gives off when you turn to look at him. So you nod your head and follow him to a more private area on the ship.

At this moment, you can’t help but think that the sun and the planets are bound by the laws of science. Science tells us that planets orbit around the sun because of attraction, however, they must never cross the line. This has been your mistake in the past, but now you know better. And so now you try to physically distance yourself from him.

Ace doesn’t comment on the distance. You aren’t sure if he even noticed. Instead he asks, “Why did you do it?”

You raise your brow, “We wanted information, right?”

“I was the one who should’ve been doing that. I’m his Commander. I’m the one who’s supposed to be responsible for that.”

You scoff. “It’s done now, let’s not dwell on it anymore—”

“But you could’ve died!”

“So what? Would you rather it was you? Because I don’t! If you died… if you died…” you choked back a sob. You didn’t want to think about him dying. Just the thought of it is enough to tug your heartstrings.

The sight of you softens him up right away. “Hey, hey, hey,” he tries soothing you. “I’m not gonna die.”

“You say that, but even the sun will die eventually. And I don’t want to witness that tragedy.”

This shuts Ace up. He didn’t really understand how much he matters to you until now. Seeing you crumble with just the thought of him dying makes him realize that your confession to him before the two of you parted was indeed the truth. “You’re right. I’m sorry…”

You could only bite your lip to calm yourself down.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking when you were away…” Ace murmurs. “And my thoughts were always about you.”

You gulp as your heart rate accelerates. Will he be turning you down properly this time? Give you the confirmation and closure that you need?

If you focus on your thoughts, you can hear a chant in your head: The sun will prioritize light over love. The sun will prioritize light over love. The sun will prioritize light over love.

But you reason, that’s okay. The sun is bound by the laws of science and one of its main purposes for its existence is to provide light. And you will not hold Ace back from doing that. If he doesn’t love you, it’s fine, you’ll be fine.

“I thought… you didn’t like me,” Ace says.

This statement catches your attention immediately. You’re about to object but he continues, “Because you always called me ‘Captain’ and then ‘Commander,’ and never by my name. And I thought that that was you drawing the line between us.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not good at these things,” he chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

But you remain tense, trying to comprehend what’s happening.

Ace takes a small step toward you.

And you couldn’t help but think that if Ace gets closer, you’ll burn once again.

Yet you watch with wide eyes, not stopping him as he gets closer and closer and closer.

At this point you can only hear how wildly your heart is beating across your chest.

And when Ace raises his hand to tenderly touch your cheek, you realize: The sun’s rays do not burn until brought to a focus.

Which could only mean one thing: his focus has always been on you.

“I love you, my angel,” Ace whispers as he presses his forehead against yours. “I’m in love with you,” and he seals his admission with a kiss.

[cricktoon]

Snake Mountain Orko AU part 2

After Orko is poisoned by Kobra Khan, he flies as fast as he can to the palace to betray Skeletor, and to give the royal court any and all information he can remember about the ambush Skeletor has planed. When he gets there, of course, he’s blocked off by palace guards, and apprehended- which is just what he wanted. As he’s brought to Randor and Marlena, still keeping up the facade of being evil, he introduces himself (”we know who you are, evil one.”) and offers his assistance. Everyone is incredulous, of course, but Orko assures he means no harm, and that he’s done with Skeletor, and that they can arrest him once he’s provided the information about the ambush. (He knows if he does this that he’ll most likely die in prison- a thought that terrifies him, but at this point he feels it’s what he deserves.)

It’s Adam who encourages his parents, Man-at-Arms, and the captain to hear Orko out, and they take him to a secluded meeting room to discuss the matter, all while Duncan ensures he’ll shoot him with a freeze ray or the like if he tries anything. 

Once they get there, though, Orko is visibly tired and his breathing is labored. They can’t see it, but he’s sweating, and the fang marks where his neck meets his shoulder are concealed by his scarf. Everyone notices. It gets worse the more they ask him about the details. As he explains, he lapses into moments where he’s hallucinating, not realizing he’s reacting out loud, his pupils reappearing and crying out in agony, clutching at his hat and crumpling it. Then, recomposing himself moments after as if nothing happened, unaware of the sound he’s just made out loud.

The group exchanges several glances between each other, trying to figure out what to do. Adam tries reaching out, offering his help, and assuring Orko that no one is going to harm him, but Orko hallucinates that it’s He-Man, coming at him with his sword, panics, and finally collapses, sinking like a stone.

Duncan approaches him after, while the rest stand there for a moment in shock, announcing that he’s going to unmask this villain once and for all. Adam stops him, telling him that no matter what he’s done, it’s an invasion of privacy, especially as he’s unconscious now, and it isn’t as if they don’t already know who Orko is. (”Forgive me, I- I don’t know what came over me.”) Instead, they carry him to the medical wing, where they discover the two huge puncture wounds by his shoulder. Luckily, they’ve already formulated an antidote from a previous experience with the same evil warrior, and though Orko has a different physiognomy than eternians, there’s a much better chance that he’ll live- but he’s going to be laid up for at least a week. 

When he’s sleeping, all the illusions go away. Orko’s still wearing the same clothes, but it’s clear his legs come up much further up than it would have seemed at a distance, and that he’s thin and tiny. His fingers aren’t even that sharp, either. He doesn’t seem at all intimidating to them anymore, and it’s a wonder that he ever had. 

They decide to consult the sorceress. The sorceress manages to bring up information on Orko’s species, and discover that he’s from a completely backwards dimension full of magic users. They theorize that Orko must have been outcast or exiled in some way- but the reason he’s on eternia now is a mystery.

It’s a day or so before Orko wakes up, and the contrast between the Orko they’re familiar with, and the true one, is deeply unsettling. They also theorize that he’s been under one of Skeletor’s spells, but Orko overhears them and tells them no, this was all him. It was all his fault. They’re still wary of him, but he begins to avoid questions about himself and change the subject, offering to tell more of Skeletor’s secrets- back entrances to snake mountain, portal spells he likes to use and where they often end up. He’s still recovering from the venom so he never stays conscious long, but it’s clear that this person isn’t as evil as they thought. He also asks when they’re going to throw him in prison, but seeing as he’s nearly died and giving them all the information he can, they settle on putting him on some kind of probation.

Eventually they get around to asking him if he has any family back on his home planet. He brings up Montork, how much he admires and misses him. (“I don’t think he’d like to see me like this, though.”) They have the sorceress contact trolla and find this Montork, who has been missing his nephew for well over a decade at this point, and is shocked and concerned when they fill him in. In response, he tells them he’ll construct a portal right away, and arrives the next day.

When he’s shown to Orko, who hasn’t been able to get out of bed yet, he startles them all by exclaiming Montork’s name, leaping out as soon as he sees him, crushing him with a hug, and then abruptly starts weeping. Up until this point, he’s been vulnerable, but still guarded and sometimes tries to act his old evil self in self defense, but this is the first time he’s acted like this. It’s a strange sight for Montork for sure, for a completely different reason- that odd, tattered long robe he’s wearing- and the long, jagged hat. He looks nothing like himself, and it’s baffling.

In private, he tells Montork the whole story. Montork listens silently, trying not to freak out. For one thing, his nephew has been using his magic for evil, and upon return to trolla, he’ll be imprisoned and disgraced. Another thing is he’s been hiding his true nature for so long out of fear of death. Even still, he did almost die. It’s a lot to take in.

Montork later discusses this with the royal family. How Orko was a little full of himself, yes, when he knew him last, but that he’d never harm another soul, even under pain of death. Adam recounts the times that he’s witnessed Orko return to the scene of the crime to repair some damages, and to search for anyone hurt. He has, in fact, witnessed him heal an unconscious civilian before booking it back to snake mountain, and has long suspected that there was something else to Orko. Hearing this, Marlena suggests he live and work with them. Orko’s not totally innocent, but he’s in much less trouble than they’ll admit, so that he can feel as if he’s working off a debt to them. That’s how they propose the idea of him becoming a court magician.

This is getting long again lmao so part 3 coming up later ?

[nais-doodles]

THE FINAL PRODUCT AHHHH. This took a lot out of me but I am so proud of how it came together in the end, ahhhh.

Here are the original sketches if you’re curious as to how everyone looked originally.

Obligatory ask for you to click through

And finally, finally, my headcanons below the cut, so ya’ll don’t have to be bogged down with them. Warning, it’s kinda long

Hi, I put off making pancakes to write this

Lucifer

Lucifer owns a private detective agency (Edit: It’s got a name now! Morningstar Detective Agency, courtesy of the lovely @impastaz309), and all the brothers are in one way or another involved in it

The agency works with the police in the more secretive cases, usually ‘important’ people going missing under mysterious circumstances, drug trafficking etc.

Though he’s the head, a lot of the time he’s handling paperwork which helps cover the brothers and his back, especially since some of the stuff they do, and links they have with other people and organisations, could be exploited at their expense.

He’s looking at satan btw lmao

Running a detective agency and also keeping tabs on his brothers is very hard ™ so Lucifer is just, tired, all the time. Please give him a shoulder rub and smooches

Mammon

Usually used as bait, believe it or not, therefore his existence is somewhat of a mystery. He has to keep a low profile.

If you asked someone in the street, unless they were really involved in the agency (which they wouldn’t be), has a high ranking in the police (unlikely), or any of the other organisations the agency associates with (probably not) they wouldn’t know he exists

Mammon is very good at his job, organising meetings with middlemen, smooth talking his way out of situations, getting even the criminals themselves to come and meet him without a mediator

He is only ever used when they agency or police know with absolute certainty that the person they’ll be catching will be arrested without fail - which is of course impossible to know, so it’s always a gamble when they pull Mammon out of the deck

Good luck dating him because this guy can’t really go in public for too long at a time

Leviathan 

He works at a newspaper agency, or at least that’s what they want you to think

In reality the whole reporter business is a front, and Leviathan is an information broker. Or rather, the head of a small group of information brokers.

The city is big, and one person alone isn’t enough to cover everything, but man is his group efficient

Every address change, every telephone call made, every booking of hotel rooms, all of it, he keeps tabs on it all

The information he’s gathered has helped the private detective agency out in a pinch many times, and will continue to do so in the future

“I’m very very busy, so please don’t call me during work, sweetheart. Especially not this particular number, that’s only for emergencies, and even then, it better be life or death, okay? Okay.”

Satan

Works in a bar. Specifically, a bar in a kinda sorta illegal underground fight club. It’s very illegal don’t let anyone fool you

A lot of the more questionable people of the city frequent this bar, and let me tell you, some people cannot keep their mouth shut once they’ve had a few drinks.

Anything Leviathan or Asmodeus can’t catch (don’t worry I’m getting there), is usually picked up by Satan via a blabbermouth who had too much to drink that night.

Satan is also pretty chummy with a lot of the fighters, and has a tendency to be the one patching up the milder injuries after fights

Therefore, he has a lot of favours he can collect, so if Lucifer ever needs some muscle that goes beyond what Beel can provide, Satan in there recommending a few of the more... smarter(?) fighters at the club.

Please don’t scratch his bar, he is a very forgiving bartender, but ruining the mahogany imported from England will have him beating the shit out of you 

Asmodeus

A bit of a celebrity, his rise to fame being both accidental and very useful

Think barbershop quartet, but he does a lot of solo work as well. The other three guys in the barbershop quartet are an absolute blast, and Asmodeus loves them to bits.

Originally, Lucifer was furious. How does he expect to work in the agency if he’s off singing at clubs and attending fancy parties? Then he realised something: Asmodeus can keep tabs on any of the more sketchy celebrities who slip through the net

So off into stardom Asmodeus went, attending lavish parties and singing at packed theatres, collecting dirt, formulating blackmail, getting only the best gossip and pulling favours along the way.

“Jen, hon, did you hear about Carter? Apparently, he’s sleeping with the daughter of the Chief of Police.” 

“Wait a minute... Asmo, isn’t she married?”

“She is most definitely married.” 

“Oh my.”

Beelzebub

Usually seen working with Belphegor, partially because, well, that’s his twin brother and he likes his brother, so why not?

And also because Belphegor always needs backup

Though he isn’t always with Belphegor, really, he’s just sent whenever Lucifer is wary of sending anyone in the agency somewhere on their own.

Think of Beel as a bodyguard of sorts. He is always there to stop things form getting physical if needs be, but he isn’t always enough on his own despite being an absolute powerhouse. So sometimes he’ll go around with someone Satan recommended too

They’re really nice actually, Beel was super surprised, you’d think they’d have no manners? (That’s because Satan gives you the nice ones Beel, thank him once in a while) 

They also all think he’s a marvel of muscle send from the gods so ya know. And they all get him cakes from that bakery he loves, so they’re all good in Beel’s book

Belphegor

You know the whole good cop bad cop routine? Yeah, Belphie is both depending on who you need for that current situation. 

Masterful in the art of manipulation, Lucifer uses him on the more tough to crack people who sit in the interrogation room

He is actually pretty good at shoving the fragmented pieces of a case together, weaving a story that gets the person being interrogated sweating bullets

Even when he is way off, he still manages to worm information out of the subject a lot faster than anyone at the police station. Point, private detective agency.

Like I said, he can be the good cop or the bad cop, though because he isn’t all that intimidating, he’s usually asked to be good cop

But dear lord he is a scary bad cop, and everyone in the police force and their mother knows it

If you got this far wow, hi, thanks! And you may or may not be happy to know I’m planning on another noir piece, this time featuring the undatables and maybe my mcs too idk yet

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse -  A dinner and a show

Prompt: any | any | competition

Word Count: 2,460

Author/Team: LadyMonotone

Fandom/Original: Redacted ASMR (Vincent Solaire/Lovely)

Rating: T

Triggers: Explicit implications

Summary: It's a tradition within the Solaire Clan that the King would visit his progenies from time to time. Tonight, Will is coming over to Vincent & Lovely's apartment for dinner. What's not a tradition is the karaoke competition that comes afterwards. 

ConCrit: Y

I don’t know what happened. This oneshot just went out of my control but I had so much fun writing it today! I hope you guys enjoyed it! 

Also, I just realised that all the characters in my oneshots have been eating lately. Oh my god, I got so hungry when I was writing them that I subconsciously includes food in some of the scenes 😭 Food is my love language so I guess it’s cute that the bois and their lovers would sit down and eat together. 

That being said, I hope you guys will crave Korean food as much as I am in this oneshot! 😅

-

“Vincent? I need your help. Can you tell me what’s Will's favourite colours?”

“Lovely - ”

“Because I have some formal outfits in our closet, but they don’t mean shit if Will hate the colours.”

“Lovely, hang on - ”

“Is he allergic to perfumes? Colognes? I have some soft-scented bottles that should be Vampire-friendly! I think? Most of them are floral though… oh! Does he have a favourite flower? Do you think I should buy some before he comes over?”

“What? No, Lovely, I think you’re working yourself up - ”

“I know you bought some blood bags for dinner but do you think we should cook some food too? Does Will like to eat? Shit, I knew I should have bought some groceries yesterday after class!”

“You’re not listening to me at all, Lovely…”

“We have to clean up the whole place too. I don’t know how our furniture gets so dusty so quickly! I just wiped them down a few days ago!”

“...”

“Do you think I should do my hair too? It’s a bit of a mess lately; I could use a trim. Does Will - ”

Lovely's eyes widen as a deep kiss suddenly silences them. Their heart pounds when Vincent brings them close to his chest, trapping his lover in his arms. Lovely's eyes flutter close when he pulls away to press butterfly kisses on their neck. They couldn’t help it; they moan and tilt their head back when they feel fangs delicately drag down their tender skin.

“Vincent!” Lovely hisses, not sure for what, though, when Vincent's fangs pinprick where their pulse is.

“Oh? Are you finally with me again, Lovely?” Vincent breathes, loving how their heart begins to beat faster and faster in anticipation. His chest reverberates when he chuckles deeply. “There we go… I have your attention again, little one.”

They grumbled at the unfairness of it all. Just as Lovely knew all of Vincent’s weaknesses and tickle spots, he knew how weak their knees behaved when he pressed his fangs to any parts of his partner's body. Especially down south.

“I’m serious here, Vince.” Lovely whines. “There are so many things we have to do before Will comes over for dinner tonight. I want to make sure everything’s perfect.”

Vincent gives Lovely a deadpan look. They would’ve coo at how adorable he looks if it weren’t for his Vampiric speed and his habit of chucking them onto the bed whenever Lovely is being too stubborn to listen to reason. “Lovely? A question: are you dating my Sire or me?”  

Lovely blinks; they didn’t expect that. “Uh, you, duh.”

“Then trust me, as your boyfriend,” Lovely has no idea why Vincent emphasised that last word, but they knew better than to interrupt him when he gets like this. “That everything’s going to be fine. Besides, I told you that while this might look like the whole ‘meeting the parent’ shtick, the relationship between a Sire and their Progeny is way more than that.” He patiently reminds them.

“Well yeah, but he means a lot to you.” Lovely points out. Now, why did Vincent look so surprised at that? “So that means he’s important to me too. That’s why this dinner has to be perfect.”

For a moment, Vincent said nothing. He just stares at them in wonderment.

Lovely let out a surprised squeak when Vincent suddenly crushed them in a hug. “How did I get so damn lucky with you, Lovely?” He murmurs, face buried on top of their head. “Sometimes I think that you’re… too amazing to be real.”

So soft and sweet; that’s Vincent. Lovely lets him cuddle them like his personal teddy bear until he's satisfied.

“Now, I need you to do something for me, Lovely. Do you think you can do it?”

Lovely raise an eyebrow. “Depends on what it is, Vince. I haven’t eaten anything yet, so I can only give you at least four hours in bed - ”

“N-Not that!” Vincent hurries to interject, a brilliant red blush runs across his cheeks despite him being a Vampire. He coughs once to get them on track, playfully glaring at Lovely for trying to distract him. “Geez, Lovely. It’s still way too early for… that. But we're definitely going to revisit that. Anyway, I need you to calm down for a second, OK? Will is a pretty chill guy and an open-minded Sire. He knows how much I love you, so you have nothing to worry about.” He gently assures them, rubbing calming motions up and down Lovely's back.

Lovely could feel their anxiety melts away. Just enough for them to finally breathe again ever since Vincent dropped the bomb that William Solaire will be coming over for dinner tonight.

Apparently, everyone in the Clan knows that the King would visit his Progenies at least once a month to check up on them. Just like how a parent would drop by their children's home for a visit, in Lovely's opinion.

“Ok. You win, baby.” Lovely sighs, loving how his rubbing eases the tense muscles. They arch their back like a pleased, spoiled cat when Vincent messages that spot below their shoulders. “Ooooh, yes, that’s the spot!”

Once Lovely's bones feel like they could melt at any time, they throw Vincent a grateful smile.

“Now, there’s the smile I’ve been missing the whole day!” Vincent teases. “C’mon Lovely, let’s plan for dinner before we take our nap. How do you feel about seafood?”

“Oh, I can go for some seafood. It’s been a while.”

“Spicy steamed crabs with scallops, battered pan-fry oysters and some chilled bowl of rice top with raw salmon and sea bass with slices of your favourite veggies? All Korean-style."

“Hell yes. I think we have all the ingredients for that. Wait. Err, can Will handle spicy food?”

"Uh... I have no idea. Maybe we should hold back on that spicy steamed crabs with scallops just in case."

Ever since the two started living together, Vincent really took a shine when it came to cooking and baking. The idea of providing for Lovely makes him ridiculously happy, and besides, him whipping up healthy and delicious food for them results in much richer and sweeter blood flowing within his lover for him to feed on so… win-win!

As the two of them traverse to the kitchen to start preparing the ingredients for dinner, Lovely slowly gain the confidence that their dinner tonight with Vincent's Sire will turn out alright.

And before both of them knew it, the sun had set.

After a fresh shower, the entire apartment is now spotless (to Lovely's standard), and dinner is served on the table, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it!" Lovely announce just as Vincent finish putting down the plates. They smoothen out the creases on their clothes, roll their shoulders before taking a deep, calming breath and answer the door. Like a soldier marching towards the battlefield.

Seeing his partner's dramatic reaction, Vincent just shakes his head.

As soon as Lovely opens the door, William Solaire greets them. "Good evening. I hope I'm not too early. The evening traffic has been quite a hassle lately. I figured that even if I'm a bit early, I could help you and Vincent in the kitchen." Will explains. In his arms is a bouquet of white pear blossoms, yellow gladioluses and red tulips. When Lovely stares at them curiously, Will smiles knowingly. "Vincent informed me that you don't drink, so I decided that flowers would be the appropriate gift as oppose to a bottle of champagne."

"They're so pretty." Lovely reply, breathless when they receive the bouquet. "Thank you so much, Will! I'll put them in a vase now. Oh, and please come in." They graciously step aside to let Vincent's Sire in.

While Lovely is busy rummaging for a vase in the storeroom, Will and Vincent make small talks over at the dining table. Vincent passes the ancient Vampire a tall glass of blood which Will accept with gratitude.

"Hey, Will. How's it going?"

"I'm fine, Vincent. Thank you for asking." Will reply after dabbing the bloodstain on the corner of his lips. "The Clan is the same as usual; Our Newborn members have finally settled in nicely, much to Sam's relief. I plan to visit them next week."

Vincent tops up Will's empty glass before replying. "That's great to hear." He's about to say something else before a loud bang against the wall in the storeroom stops him. "Uh, Lovely? Is everything OK in there?" He calls out.

"It's fine, it's fine!" Lovely shouts back. "I found the perfect vase for the flowers!"

Vincent groans in exasperation. When Will throws him a confused expression, Vincent is compelled to explain. "Look, Will, Lovely has been freaking out about tonight's dinner the whole day. They think that if it turns out anything but perfect, you're going to be disappointed in them. So just... just play along, alright?"

Will chuckles; his heart warms at the thought that Lovely holds him in such high regard. What an adorable human. "Is that so? Very well then, I will play the perfect guest towards such kind hosts."

And true to his words, when Lovely joins them at the table after putting the vase full of flowers on the coffee table in the living room, Will waste no time in kicking his charm to the max. In between their meal, Will makes sure to compliment Lovely's outfit (which earned him a shy yet pleased blush from Lovely and a jealous kick at his shin from Vincent). He then comments that the spicy steamed seafood dish is his favourite, and when desserts are introduced, Will gently helps Lovely open up by asking about their interests and hobbies.

Will is pleasantly surprised to find one of the many common grounds they share: their love for analysing music.

"I find RM to be one of the most brilliant lyricists in this generation." Will states once his bowl of red bean shaved ice is empty. "His songs are undoubtedly impactful for the youths of today. Not to mention that I'm quite fond of his wordplays."

"You're into K-pop!?" Lovely ask, utterly gobsmacked. Their eyes are wide in shock.

Vincent snorts. "Alexis is a BTS fan. Somehow, she managed to convert Will too."

When Lovely turn to face Will once more, their expression frozen in disbelieve, he adds, "We're planning to catch their concert once the situation permits it."

Will's pop culture admission finally broke the ice. Lovely laughs in delight before launching themselves into an animated conversation about modern music with Will.

However, it wasn't long before their topic suddenly went off the rail when Vincent claimed that he's a better shower singer than Lovely.

"Oh please, Vince, I thought you were dying in the bathroom," Lovely interjects with a roll of their eyes. Vincent splutters at his partner's cruel remark, but Lovely presses on without mercy, much to Will's amusement. He resolutely keeps his mouth shut despite his growing grin slowly making its way up to his face. "Face it, you're tone-deaf. Being a Vampire doesn't magically make you a good singer."

"Those are some fighting words, Lovely. Can you back them up?"

"We can settle this tonight if you want. You and me; we can duke it out in a singing swag off with Will as the judge." Lovey declares with a smirk before they head into the living room. All revved up as if their previous anxiety over dinner had never happened.

"Oh my..."

Vincent turns to Will with a grateful nod. "Thanks for helping them relax. And hey, you don't have to stay if you have some other plans tonight, Will."

Will stares back at his Progeny with a faux, scandalous look on his face, complete with a hand on his chest. "Why, Vincent, where would I be anywhere but here? It's not every day that I get to see you humbled by your lover. Don't think I forget that you were once known as the Playboy of the Solaire Clan."

Shock looks good on Vincent's face. It's cute that he actually forgot how he was before Lovely walks into his life. Oh, Will is going to milk this for all its worth.

"Alright! The system is set up!" Lovely announce from near the TV with a microphone in their hand. "Will, come on! You need to help me prove that Vincent sings like a dying cat. Here, here!"

"Oi, oi! We haven't even started yet!" Vincent rebuke and flits over to grab the spare microphone. "You know what, Lovely? I'm so confident that I'll win this that I'll let you go first."

Lovely grins viciously and accepts his offer. Once Will makes himself comfortable on the couch and signals for them to begin, Lovely open their mouth,

Will couldn't stop smiling as Lovely sings their heart out, and Vincent makes his grand entrance after they're done (singing one of Will's favourite songs in hopes to sway his Sire to his side). Vincent and Lovely are having the time of their life, teasing one another as they sing. Will commits this night into one of his most cherished memories.

*"Dari apa yang aku perhatikan

Manusia mahu senang tapi tak semua mahu berkorban

Dari apa yang mereka katakan

Ada yang jawab jujur tapi selebihnya kuat beralasan..."

However, as the night grows long, Will doesn't have the heart to tell them that they both are horrible singers.

-

Tonight, it's Sam's turn. Will deliver three knocks on his door before Sam swings it open. He looks exhausted, unamused and seconds away from running out of the house.  

"Good evening, Sam."

"Good evening, William. Before you come in, can I ask why my Progenies insist on having a karaoke competition tonight? On the night where they knew you were coming?"

Will begins to smile widely. Both he and Sam could hear a heated argument between Frederick and Bright Eyes from the living room.

"No, you can't sing Bambi, Bright Eyes. I won't allow it! You're going to break the windows!"

"Oh my god, would you let me live, Freddy!?"

"We've been over this; you can't sing! Wait. What are you - put down that microphone - "

Music starts to play at maximum volume, and then,

Sam closed his eyes and sighed deeply and in resignation when Bright Eyes began to sing louder to drown out Frederick's shrieking.

**“Feel it like memalla itteon mam wiro

seumyeodeun danbi

dabi piryo eopji

Because you’re my favourite..."

"I don't know what had happened - and I honestly don't want to know - but I hope you're ready to deal with these two tonight."  

"Why, Sam, where would I be anywhere but here?"

-

These are the English translations & link to the songs that Lovely and Bright Eyes were singing: 

*“From what I can see

People want the good life, but are not willing to sacrifice

From what I hear

Some are honest but others are full of excuses...”

**“Feel it like timely rain that seeps into my dry heart

No other answer is needed

Because you’re my favorite...”

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

RESISTERE TENTATIONEM: CAPITULUM II

TĒCTUS: Covered, concealed, hidden, having been covered, hidden or concealed

Pairings: Damian Priest x Reader

Warnings: +18, mature content

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @ziasaph , @theworldofotps , @alyhull , @bellalutionn , @aerynscrichton , @serpantscorpio8497 , @ava-valerie , @omegasshyghuleh6661ghosts , @squirreledelman , @cazxcx , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @bayley-no-friends , @waywardwrestlewritingwaif , @sassymox

Notes: I would like to thank @letsgivethisonemoreshot , for not only being my partner in crime with this trilogy but also being one of the best friends someone could ever have 😘 This is fully written in Damian’s POV. If you’d like to check out my previous works, you can find them on my Masterlist

Want to hear a joke that’s really in poor taste? The Mother Superior of the famous Mary Magdalene Convent (isn’t that ironic) is being accused of hosting ‘parties’ to the oh so loving convent donors. And you know who isn’t invited to those parties? Jesus Christ. Because the Devil sure loves to be a part of them! Drugs, orgies, alcohol, prostitution, even black masses... you name it! Everything that is unholy happens in the so-called house of holiness, and if that isn’t a bad taste joke, I don’t know what is.

So here I am now, driving towards the Devil’s den: the Mary Magdalene convent for three torturous days of interviews. Out of all of the reporters from The New York Times, of course I was the one who drew the short straw and got assigned this article. Some people see this as a career changing opportunity... a blessing, but me? I see it as a fucking curse! I don’t like religion, I don’t like churches, I don’t like priests and I sure as hell don’t like nuns! Anything that has the word “holy” in it, I prefer to be as far away as I possibly can from. But today was not my lucky day….no, today was the day that I was going to be tested. The only thing I’m hoping for is to not fail.

I knocked on the convent’s door and a young lady answered me.

“Hi, good morning. I’m Damian Priest, reporter from The New York Times and I’m here for an interview with” I looked down at my notepad “Mrs. Y/N L/N? Whom I believe is the Mother Superior”

The young girl only nodded once and motioned for me to follow her, without saying a word.

I followed her in, mesmerized by the size of the convent, the whole place was fancy as fuck on the inside. Art pieces from famous painters were displayed on the walls, modern furniture, dim lights that made the place look cozy and inviting. *What a scam* I thought to myself. The young lady in front of me suddenly stopped walking and pointed towards the door in front of her before turning around and leaving.

Presuming that it was the Mother Superior’s office, I knocked on the door twice before someone told me to come in. You see, when they told me I was going to be interviewing the Mother Superior of a convent, the last thing I expected was for her to not only be beautiful, but young (considering I was under the impression that women in that position were around sixty years old). She was breathtaking to say the least! Soft features, her skin had an angelic glow to it and there was something in her eyes that trapped you in them...something you could not turn your gaze away from no matter how bad you wanted to.

“Mr. Priest, please sit down” She smiled

I nodded and sat on the chair in front of her desk

“Thank you for taking some time out of your busy schedule to speak with me, Mother Y/L/N-“

“Please, call me Y/N” Her sultry voice spoke

“Y/N” I tested the word on my lips and it sounded oddly pleasant

She smiled softly and...fuck she’s gorgeous! Her beauty was a painful and constant reminder of what you couldn’t have, couldn’t touch, couldn’t-“

“Mr. Priest?” She said softly

“Damian”

“Damian, would you like something to drink? Coffee, water, juice, tea perhaps?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you” I answered, while grabbing my notepad and a pen out of my backpack. Clearing my throat, I said “Can we get started with the pre-interview?”

“Of course” She smiled widely and reached for a cigarette pack on top of the table, which made me raise an eyebrow

“We all have our dirty little secrets, don’t we, Damian?” She asked, licking the cigarette filter before sucking it

*Am I going crazy?* I thought to myself

“Damian? Your first question is?” She giggled

“Ummm” I cleared my throat once again “Y/N, recently the convent was involved in a huge scandal involving drugs, prostitution, orgies and black masses. Would you like to clarify why an institution that’s deeply connected to the church is in the middle of something so profane?”

She grinned “God is in the most profane things, Damian. After all, the sinners are the ones who need Him the most, aren’t they?”

“I’m not sure if I follow-”

“You see” She took a long drag on her cigarette and walked towards me “God is our Lord and savior. He forgives us from our sins, grants us forgiveness to our most foul actions” She sat down on the chair beside me “If you steal from someone and repent; He’ll forgive you, kill someone and repent; He’ll save you, cheat on your wife with the hot, young next door neighbor and repent; He’ll brush it underneath the carpet and pretend it never happened” She shrugged “God doesn’t judge, Damian. He only forgives” She leaned forward on the arm of the chair, until she was uncomfortably close to me “So if the big boss himself doesn't judge anyone, then why should I?”

“And what does judgment have to do with drugs, orgies and sin?”

She smiled “How can God forgive you if you don’t sin, Damian?”

“And how can God forgive his so-called followers who incite others to sin, Y/N?”

“Incite others to sin?” She chuckled “Are you talking about the allegations, the donors or yourself?” She smirked

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

Since we’re so far from town I was informed that I would have to spend the night at the convent. They showed me my bedroom and it looked pretty fancy. King size bed, Egyptian sheets, expensive furniture. Everything was oddly normal, except for the weird dream I recalled having. I was at the convent, lost, calling for help because I somehow ended up locked in here. I was inside what looked like a large basement, the room was only lit by red lights, a faint smell of leather took over my nostrils as I heard someone moaning softly in my ear…a woman. And the weirdest thing was that I could’ve sworn I felt her breath against my ear. Needless to say I woke up with my dick as hard as a rock and had to spend a solid thirty minutes trying to get rid of a very painful boner, which did not leave me no matter how many times I came. Half hard and inside a convent...yeah, I’m definitely going to Hell!

“How did you sleep, Damian?” Was the first thing I was asked when I walked into the Mother Superior’s office in the morning. Something in her voice told me she knew exactly what I had done underneath the shower.

“Good”

“I bet you woke up feeling much better after a good night of rest, right?” She smiled devilishly and I just nodded

“Would you mind if we took a tour through the convent at some point?” I asked, quickly changing subjects

“Of course not! Let me know when you want one”

I nodded and began to ask my questions

“So, why do so many men keep coming and going from this convent? Seems like the place men shouldn’t be”

“The only men who come to the convent, Damian, are maintenance, the donors for the ‘thank you parties’ we host and now you” She smiled

“How do you get so many people to keep donating?”

“We don’t oblige anyone to do anything. People are still kind enough to see the work we do for those in need and they get touched by it. So God is the one who inspires them to donate, Damian. Not me”

“I’ve noticed a lot of fancy things here. Shouldn’t the money be going to something else?”

“The ‘fancy’ things you see are gifts from the donors. Things they felt in their hearts they should give us freely. We don’t buy things for the convent, apart from food. That’s one of the rules”

“Speaking of rules” I looked at her “Why are you smoking? Isn't that not allowed?”

“We don’t have rules against smoking here, Damian. The choice to do it or not is personal, but there are no rules for it. It’s not forbidden or a sin. Now, if you think nuns shouldn’t smoke, I suggest you pay a visit to the convents in Rome and give them a piece of your mind about their choices regarding health”

I chuckled at her comeback

“Why so cynical about our good intentions?” She licked her lips

“Because you don’t have any” I spat

“We live for helping those in need, Damian” She pointed towards my visible bulge

“Helping those in need, huh? And what do you get out of it?”

She walked towards me “Satisfaction in its purest form” She lifted one hand up and caressed my lower belly over my shirt “It’s incredible how much providing relief to others can trigger the biggest pleasure in our bodies...to see their eyes semi-closed in...relief is so rewarding to me”

I cleared my throat and shifted uncomfortably. “And just how needy do these people have to be?” I was speaking in financial terms of course

“Very needy” Her hand toyed with my jeans button “Some even have trouble sleeping due to their neediness, so you can see how a helping hand goes so well in this case...even the right mouth, you know to profess the Lord’s word”

“And just how many of these ‘charitable acts’ have you been involved with?” I felt my cock grow harder and harder

“Directly? Only when things get too hard, Damian” Her hand brushed against my hard bulge “That’s when I offer my help, so things can stop getting so hard and painful”

I gulped as I tried to shift away from her touch “So what, you just have all these other poor girls do your dirty work for you?” I try to keep my serious composure

“I’m not afraid of getting dirty, Damian. The girls do what they can, what they’re instructed to...but sometimes things get so hard that I have no other option but intervene” She pulled the fly of my jeans down “Then, once the seed of evil is finally spilled, things can go back to being soft again” She leaned in closer “Would you like a demonstration, Damian? I’m sure you have some kind of evil inside you that needs to be released” She asked with a sinister smile reaching her hand into the waistband of my boxer briefs

“I’m just here for work, Y/N, I have nothing to donate”

“Don’t worry about it. My girls will not be involved in this...it will be our little secret”

“I would like the tour now, please”

She smirked “Of course” and stepped away from me “This way” She went out the door as if nothing had happened

“Psycho bitch” I whispered to myself, as I pulled the fly of my jeans up and tied my hoodie around my waist to cover up the boner.

“This way we have the nuns bedrooms” She pointed towards a hallway “Kitchen, restrooms, archives, laundry room, storage for cleaning supplies, pantry” She explained each room, until we were outside “The patio, garden; where we cultivate flowers, fruits and vegetables, garage and the chapel is this way”

She walked towards a medium sized chapel in the middle of the garden, it looked like a regular chapel on the inside. It had an altar with a bible on it, a pulpit, a big cross, devotional statues of catholic saints, wooden benches and a confessional. Candles were lit up all over the place and everything looked normal. Scarily normal, until I noticed a few nuns who were sat on one of the benches staring at me with a weird look on their eyes

“Why are they looking at me like that?” I asked Y/N

“Like what?”

“Like, with...” I trailed off

“With desire?” She whispered in a mocking tone

I looked down at her speechless

“One could say that you’re a little too obsessed with the lust theme, Damian” She smiled “It’s all you can think about ever since you got here, dear. You should be careful” She licked her lips and pulled me by my hand towards her office again.

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

Later that night while I was trying to get some sleep, I began to hear some mumbling. Muffled voices kept saying something unintelligible and filling up the bedroom with mainly female voices. But one of the voices sounded too familiar to me...

I stood up from the bed and began to search in the room where those voices could be coming from, and as I almost gave up, I found it. A small hole of the size of a coin, in the concrete wall in front of my bed. Scooting closer to the wall, I knelt down and peeked through the hole, but weirdly enough, the room was pitch black. The mumbling started again and they soon became moans. Above all the moaning voices, one stood out to me. It was Y/N’s voice, she moaned softly while she said something I couldn’t quite understand. Her voice was filled with lust, her moans were pornographic and I could swear she was moaning my name. It both frightened and turned me on, so I did what any wise man would do. I returned to the bed, laid down and jerked off before falling into a deep slumber.

..................................................................................

“Wake up” Someone softly whispered in my ear

I quickly opened my eyes and my heart was beating at a frantic pace due to the fright.

A young girl was sitting down on my bed “Please, follow me” was all she said before standing up and leaving my room

I was so confused that I didn’t even bother to grab a t-shirt, so I just followed her down the hall barefoot and only with a pair of sweatpants on. Looking outside the hallway windows, I could see that the sky was still dark, which could only mean it was the late hours of morning.

She took me inside the laundry room and pressed a button underneath the folding clothes table. A door opened and a red light lit up the dark wooden stairs. I continued to follow her down the stairs, and we began to walk down a long hallway that looked more like a basement. The whole place had only red lights as the lighting source, so it took my eyes a while to get used to it.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, but only received silence as a response

We walked for what felt like ten minutes until we reached a black wooden door with an iron door knocker. She knocked on the door four times and left.

“Is this a prank?” I asked myself, after five minutes of standing there alone. Suddenly the door opened, but I couldn’t see anything other than darkness ahead

“Hello?” I called from the doorway, but no one answered back

The thing that made me such a great reporter was my utter curiosity, and even with all my senses screaming ‘don’t go in there!’ I decided to listen to my curious side instead, and went into the room. As soon as I stepped a foot inside, the door behind me closed shut.

The room was pitch black and I stumbled across a few items. I placed my hand on top of what felt like a table so I could try to guide myself through the room, at least back to the door again so I could leave. When suddenly I felt several pairs of soft hands on my torso pulling me back.

“What the fuck?” I gasped in shock

But before I could make a move, my wrists and ankles were tied to a wooden surface and a red light turned on in the room

Five nuns were in front of me, staring silently at my body

“Leave” Someone said from behind me, and the nuns obeyed and left

“I would be lying if I said you weren’t a beautiful sight” Y/N said, and and walked in front of me

“You psycho bitch” I growled and pulled at the restraints “Let me go!”

She smiled “Oh Damian...You don’t want that!” Her nails softly scratched my lower belly “And neither do I”

“You’re sick! Let me go, you fucking-“

“Na ah” She slapped me across the face “I’m done playing these pretending games” She lit up a cigarette “Pretend you didn’t jerk off to my moans, pretending you don’t want to fuck me...that gets tiring” She dipped her hand inside my sweatpants and found my semi hard bulge “You’ve wanted to fuck me ever since you laid eyes on me” She giggled and I licked my dry lips

“Those sinful, filthy, thoughts you’ve had, Damian” She closed her fist around my erection “You wanted to know what we do here, right? We purge that demon out of you” And scooted closer until her lips brushed against my own with every word she spoke

“We send him away, so he can’t bother you anymore” She freed my cock from my pants and began to pump her hand up and down “We release you from the seed of evil”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I panted

Y/N knelt down in front of me and darted her tongue out, licking my slit “Give me the seed of evil, Damian” and gave an open mouth kiss on my tip “Feed me with it” Licked the underside of my shaft “Release yourself from what’s been bothering you ever since you got here” Darting her tongue out “Use me to purify your soul” And opened her mouth wider.

At such a sight I had no other option but to buck my hips forward…

And chase for my cleansing

If you’re comfortable with it, please let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[thestorycfus]

The Sweetest Apparition - Part 3

Pairing: Peggy Carter x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and historian who specializes in the life and legacy of Captain Carter. After Nick Fury uses the Tesseract to bring Peggy back, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. contacts the reader to help her navigate life in the XXI century.

Warnings and notes: Food, mentions of Steggy, mentions of Stucky, very small mentions of war. Other characters are also mentioned. This got way longer than the first two parts, but there’s also way more Peggy here. This series takes place after the last scene of What If… episode one, including spoilers to that episode. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Word count: 2,304

Series Masterlist

It should be a short walk to your apartment, but you made a small stop each time Captain Carter was curious about something. You also got some take out on the way, making sure to pick at least four different options from separate places and a couple of desserts too, since you didn’t know her taste yet. It was a while before you made it to your street.

During the entire time, your chatting was limited to safe topics - how loud and bright the city was, how many screens there were, the amount of coffee options that existed now. You watched Carter fall in love with her caramel coffee and made a mental note to buy her more sweets.

Soon, the Captain would also need to go shopping. Fury had gotten her the formal white blouse and the black pants she wore now, an outfit much more discreet than the uniform she was wearing when she fell, but that was her entire wardrobe at the moment. That was another mission you should handle, but it could wait until after lunch.

When you finally got home, you placed the food over a kitchen counter and gave Carter a quick tour of the apartment. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it would be enough for both of you until she was more familiar with this century. The tour ended where it started: in your tiny kitchen. You pulled a stool for the Captain and presented her with the options for lunch.

“I suppose you’ve never tried some of those, so I got a few different meals. Burritos, sweet and sour chicken, calzones and Pad Thai. For dessert, there’s lemon tart and triple chocolate cake. I might have gotten a little carried away.”

Peggy took a seat and examined her options. You wondered if that would be, technically her first meal since the 40’s.

“They are all tempting, but I might start with this one.” Her eyes were fixated on a burrito as if it was the Holy Grail. Yeah, that was surely the first time she ate in seventy years. She dove in, so focused on her meal that you didn’t dare to interrupt. Meanwhile, you took the other stool and picked a calzone, eating it while you watched Carter.

You were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that she was really here, and it was surprising that you hadn’t completely freaked out so far, but the prospect of the rest of the day started to worry you. The Captain would certainly have a lot of questions and, if there were inquiries that Fury left for you to answer, they probably pertained more to her personal life than to great historical events.

If the registers about her were right, it wouldn’t be long before the real conversation started. Peggy Carter was too smart to have such a debate in the middle of the street, but she wasn’t known for stalling. As soon as she finished her meal, in the privacy of your (now shared) kitchen, you would have to provide about seven decades of answers.

Before you could try to prepare yourself, she was done with her second burrito. You almost suggested dessert, but the look she gave you left no room for pauses. Carter turned on her stool to face you directly, her posture becoming straighter and her eyes never leaving yours. She was the perfect image of Captain Carter, the hero, the legend who defeated all odds. Still, when she spoke, there was softness in her voice.

“The meal was lovely and so is the apartment. I can’t thank you enough for you kindness, Agent L/N, but I must ask a few things more of you. If you have studied about my life, you must know what happened to Steve Rogers after I was gone.”

You should be ready for that. Of course her first personal concern would be about Rogers. His story with Carter went down in history as a tragic tale of love, bravery and loss. To his last days, Rogers had made it his mission to honor her legacy, but that wasn’t all that he did. How do you tell a person that the love of her life went on to live a decades long, fulfilling relationship with someone else, even though, from her perspective, they were together the day before?

“Please, call me Y/N. And you can ask anything, Captain. I will tell you everything I can.” You took a deep breath, going through the words in your head in search of the best way to let her know. It was best to keep nothing out. Carter deserved that. “Steve Rogers continued to serve as the Hydra Stomper until the war had ended and all known Hydra operations had been eliminated. After that, he stepped out of the suit so that Howard Stark could continue his research with the Tesseract. I believe neither of them ever gave up on bringing you back, but, in many ways, they also moved on to build new lives.”

You made a small pause, in case she wanted to say something, but Carter only gave you a nod, encouraging you to continue. It was impossible to look away from her eyes, or to keep anything hidden when she stared at you with such intensity. Even in silence, sitting still, she emanated a power that kept you talking.

“A few years after the war, Rogers and Stark started an intelligence agency to keep the world safe from threats we could barely understand. They named it S.H.I.E.L.D., because of you. That is the agency I work for, directed by Nick Fury.” There was something poetic in the way that same agency ended up being the reason Peggy Carter was back, but it wasn’t your place to point that out. “Rogers never stopped fighting, even without the suit. He was a legendary agent, working along with James Barnes until they retired. They were also together for the rest of their lives.”

That was the piece of information you feared would break Carter’s heart, but she had a bright smile after hearing that.

“That suits them. All of them.” The joy in her voice sounded so sincere, and you couldn’t help but ask.

“Were you and Rogers… Together? It is said so in the official files, but…” In your studies, you sometimes wondered if their relationship was just a myth, maybe a publicity stunt to humanize the fallen super soldier. It was your job to question the data, but you had never paid that possibility much attention until now.

Instead of being offended by your invasion of her privacy, Carter laughed so lightly and freely that you felt your cheeks getting warm.

“Oh, darling, Steve Rogers had a heart too big to have only one soul mate. He was the love of my life, yes, and I was the love of his, but not the only one. A love so beautiful and dedicated is supposed to be shared. Of course I’m sad I didn’t get to share the rest of his life with him, but I’m relieved to know that he and Bucky had each other. And that’s not to say I’m a being of such virtue that I’m above jealousy. I felt jealous of Steve alright, many times, but I could never be jealous of him with Buck. They fit well together and they were good for each other. They were real, just as Steve and I were. Steve deserved to be loved through a lifetime. I’m grateful that he was.”

Carter’s eyes shined with tears, but she didn’t allow any to fall. Maybe she would let herself grief for the lost possibilities later, but for now she was handling such an emotional journey with more elegance than you thought possible. It didn’t seem to be an act at all. On the contrary, what touched you the most was the honesty in her words. That selflessness of being genuinely happy to hear of how her soul mate lived on without her, in love with someone else, told you more about Peggy Carter than any history book ever had. And that’s how she reacted right after being thrown into the next century, coming directly from a war and landing in a world she didn’t recognize.

“I don’t think history ever made you justice, Captain. The general public thinks of you as a hero, but they’re so far from knowing the person behind the suit... You know, it’s very nice to meet you.” You couldn’t help but sharing a bit of what was on your mind. To that moment, your hero was turning out to be even better than your daydreams, and it was only fair to let her know so.

At that, she gave you a big smile and your heart skipped a beat. You would have a hard time sharing an apartment with this woman.

“You are far too kind to me. To be honest, they never showed much interest on me, suit or not, until I went against official orders and started throwing tanks around and fighting the battles that needed to be fought. I am more concerned about what I am able to achieve, regardless of how they will see me. And there’s no need to call me Captain, Y/N. Heavens, we live and work together now and you’re my guide to modern life. Peggy is fine. And it’s nice to meet you too.” She took the initiative to get a slice of chocolate cake, already making herself at home. You had the feeling that her adaptation to this world wouldn’t be too difficult, all things considered. Peggy Carter would take whatever she was given and make more of it than anyone imagined possible.

“As you wish, Peggy. Speaking of that, there’s a lot I think you’ll like to see about life now. What else are you curious about?” You took your own slice of cake, trying to feel at ease in this conversation. You couldn’t be on high alert whenever Carter was around if she was going to be around all the time, but that was easier said than done. Your responsibilities here were enormous and, to be frank, you were determined to be your best self and impress her, even if just a bit. Maybe telling her about the wonders of nowadays technology would do the trick.

“I am curious about everything. I can’t wait to know all about the development of science, or what I missed in seven decades of sociopolitical turmoil, but there’s one more person I’d love to hear about before we get to that. You mentioned Howard moving on with his life, didn’t you? What exactly was that little menace up to while I was gone?”

Now, that was a rich topic of conversation.

“Well, Stark continued his research with the Tesseract and with many other projects, sometimes along with the US government, and he built a billionaire empire. Weapons, all sorts of technology, wild parties. The man had everything. He has a son, Tony, who inherited the tech, the money and the brains, but with a stronger inclination to heroism. You see, Tony Stark built himself a supersuit, partially inspired by his father’s Hydra Stomper, but with a larger variety of uses. It’s said that Steve Rogers was a sort of mentor to him, but I couldn’t get Stark to talk a lot about it when I interviewed him.”

You couldn’t tell which part made Peggy more excited. She nodded along as you listed Howard Stark’s achievements, as if it was all expected, and her eyes got wider when you told her about his son. When you mentioned Rogers, she almost jumped in her seat. She was already invested, but dropping that name sealed the deal.

“Fury gave me this.” She took two business cards out of her pocket. “It has his telephone number and Barton’s too. Could I use your telephone to call him? I would like to meet this Tony Stark, and I bet Fury would be able to reach him.” 

Giving Director Fury a call from your cellphone felt strange, but how could you deny Peggy that? If the Director gave her the number, he wanted her to be able to reach him, right? 

Instead of dialing yourself, you showed Carter how to use the phone. She looked like a kid on Christmas whenever she was given access to new technology. You would make sure she got a cellphone of her own soon so you could show her everything the device could do. 

She called Fury and you waited as they talked for less than two minutes. Peggy handed you the phone when she was done, with a smile that said she got what she wanted.

“So, what did the Director say?” You asked, anxious to know the outcome of the call.

“We’re meeting Tony Stark tomorrow at 2pm in his tower. Was it him who named it Stark tower or is that Howard’s doing?” She narrowed her eyes a bit, still smiling.

“The tower was built by Tony, so I think we can’t blame Howard for that one.” You joked. “Are you meeting Fury at S.H.I.E.L.D. before you two go to Stark’s?”

“Oh, Fury is not going. He booked the meeting for you and me, if you would like to accompany me.” Peggy sounded hesitant, as if she had just considered that you might not want to join her on that plan. 

"You’re asking me if I wish to be there when Captain Carter meets Tony Stark? Please, if I didn’t get the chance to be a part of that exchange, I would beg you for a detailed retelling as soon as you got home.” 

Your reply made Peggy laugh once more, and you were getting used to that sound very quickly.

[marjansmarwani]

take it, it’s yours

2k || ao3

One of the ways TK shows love is through tchotchkes, Carlos learns.

A bit of cute softness for the lovely and wonderful @justaswampdemon on her birthday. Happy birthday my dear, thanks for being someone I can yell about everything from these characters to tea to life in general with. I hope you enjoy this little story from your headcanon 💗

-----------

“TK?” 

“Yeah, babe?” He hears his boyfriend call from the other room.

“What is this?” 

“What’s…” TK asks with a frown as he turns to the kitchen, confusion fleeing his face as he sees what Carlos is holding, “oh.”

Carlos simply raises an eyebrow and places the blue-green ladle on the counter as TK approaches, looking at his boyfriend expectantly. 

“It’s a ladle,” TK provides helpfully as he approaches. 

“I can see that,” Carlos deadpans. “Why does it have a face and why is it in my kitchen?” 

“It’s Nessie!” TK declares as if it should be obvious, “See?” 

He picks up the ladle and sets it upright so it stands on its own. “When it’s in a pot, the face and neck stick out,” he explains, “like the Loch Ness Monster.” 

Carlos nods slowly, looking from the ladle in question to his boyfriend. TK’s face falls. 

“You don’t like it,” he says, reaching for the ladle, “I’ll get rid of it. I’m sorry, I should have asked first.” 

Carlos reaches out a hand to stop him, covering the hand now clutching the ladle with his own, “I didn’t say that.” 

TK looks at him hopefully and Carlos smiles, “I think it’s cute, and I love the fact that you got it for me. Plus, it is pretty practical. You can never have too many ladles.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to. I can get rid of it.” 

“Don’t you talk about Nessie that way,” Carlos interrupts, leaning forward to pull TK into a kiss. “She’s not going anywhere, and neither are you.” 

--------

It’s small things here and there, after that. One of those little figurines from the tea boxes on the window sill, small figurines and vases. He doesn’t question it much until one day he walks in the door and goes to dump his keys into the dish beside the door only to find what looks like a pinecone with eyes glued on staring back at him. 

“Hey babe,” TK calls out from the kitchen, where he is already in the process of plating up the takeout he had picked up on his way, “food’s almost ready to go.” 

Carlos nods and is about to thank him for picking it up, or maybe ask him how his day was, but all that comes out when he opens his mouth is a question, “Why is there a pinecone looking at me from the table?” 

TK freezes, brow furrowing in confusion before realization dawns. “Well first off, it’s not a pinecone Carlos, it’s a hedgehog.” 

“Uh huh,” Carlos agrees skeptically, peering back down at the item in question. “And why is there a hedgehog on the table?” 

“Because I saw it when I was out with Marjan today and thought it was cute. Why?” he asks, voice shifting, “Do you not like it? I can get rid of it if you don’t, I should’ve asked first, I’m…” 

But Carlos shook his head, dropping his bag by the door and crossing to the kitchen, coming up beside TK. He reached out and put a hand on his face, gently turning it so he was meeting Carlos’s gaze. 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it TK,” he assures him softly, “and you don’t need to get rid of it. Take a breath, it’s okay.” 

He waits for TK to do so, watching as the panic leaves his expression. “Do you want to tell me what’s really going on?” he asks gently, moving his hand from TK’s face to his waist. 

“Nothing,” he says at first but at Carlos’s raised eyebrows he rolls his eyes. “Fine, something, but it’s stupid.” 

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that,” Carlos offers and TK sighs. 

“I don’t want you to think I’m overstepping,” TK admits. “I know I bring little things in from time to time and you don’t seem to mind but every once in a while I start to wonder again. It’s just something my mom and I always had in common. She used to love picking up little funny or cute things, and it became something we did together. My dad never liked clutter - well, he still doesn’t, actually - but he used to always complain about my mom and her tchotchkes and so I would always just keep them in my room instead and I just don’t want you to ever feel like I’m taking advantage, or cluttering your house or…”

“Hey,” Carlos interjects, interrupting the spiral he could see starting. “I don’t think that, any of it. I love that you bring little things here, that you are adding little bits of yourself. It makes it feel a little bit more like our home, doesn’t it?”

He pauses, giving TK a chance to process his choice of words, and is rewarded by his eyes widening. He smiles and leans forward, pressing a kiss to TK’s cheek. “This is your home too TK,” he tells him, “in whatever capacity you want it to be. And yeah, if it starts to look like a roadside gift shop in here, we may have to have a talk about the...what was that word you used?” 

“Tchotchkes,” TK provides, “it means trinket, or knick-knack.” 

“Right,” Carlos agrees, “but a few of them? I kind of love them because it brings a little more life, and shows me that you feel at home here. Not to mention the fact that they make you happy, and I can put up with a few pinecones looking at me if it makes you happy.”

“It’s a hedgehog, Carlos,” TK tries to gripe, but the light in his eyes betrays him, “it’s cute and it’s seasonal.”

“And it makes you happy, which is all I ever want,” Carlos agrees, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Besides, I never said I didn’t like it. It’s cute, actually.” 

--------

Carlos has a theory. 

He’s read about love languages and he knows that TK’s is physical touch, without a doubt. Not even in a sexual way; he just likes being close to Carlos, having a physical reminder that he is there, that he is real. It reveals itself in hand holding and hugs and small touches as they pass each other whether it's in the field or at home. He’s just very tactile, and Carlos loves that about him (it’s one of about roughly 230 things, but still). 

But the more and more he has watched him and spent time with him, he decides that TK has more than one. He’s not sure if it qualifies as gift giving or if it is a category all of its own but there is no denying that TK loves to give small gifts to his friends. The first time he notices is when they are out, strolling through a flea market on Saturday morning. They’re walking hand in hand when their progress is abruptly halted by TK, who stops and turns to a table to their right. He picks up a small figurine (Carlos would be lying if he said he had the faintest idea what it was actually supposed to be) with a grin and politely asks the vendor for a price. He hands over the few dollars requested with a smile and a thanks before pocketing the figurine and moving on. 

Carlos can only watch, catching up to him a few moments later, giving him a questioning look when TK meets his eyes. “For Marjan,” he explains, smiling as he reaches out to take Carlos’s hand in his again, “she’ll think it’s funny.” 

And so she does, as Carlos  finds out when she shows up at the condo later that evening. Her bright laugh draws the attention of the others and she beams at them as she shows them the small figurine - a crocodile for the native Floridian, Carlos and the others are informed -  squeezing TK’s arm in thanks as she flashes a smile at him. 

It doesn’t stop there. From time to time small and strange objects filter through the condo on their way to their intended owners. A book on cryptids for Paul, a set of exaggerated cartoonish Texas-themed salt and pepper shakers for Judd, a disgruntled cat figurine for Nancy; an inexplicable purple pig for Mateo that TK refuses to explain. They become a part of their everyday and Carlos stops noticing them, after a while. They are a part of who TK is and a testament to the love and care he has for others and the joy he takes from making them happy. 

And if that means he finds the odd figurine on the counter from time to time, Carlos will happily take that in stride. 

When TK officially moves in there is surprisingly not an influx in tchotchkes in the condo. Though Carlos supposes it had been a gradual invasion anyways; and if he had maybe purchased the matching Nessie pasta spoon and tea steeper on his own, nobody was the wiser. It’s normal now for there to be a new and unexplained small object on the edge of the counter or on the table beside the door so when Carlos sees a small object on the counter when he comes home from work on TK’s day off, he thinks nothing of it. 

It’s not until TK emerges from upstairs and they exchange greetings that he gives it a second thought because TK keeps giving it furtive looks. After a few minutes of TK’s gaze drifting towards it as they spoke Carlos raises an eyebrow. 

“Care to share with the class?” he asks drily and TK starts, looking at Carlos in surprise before his gaze turns sheepish. He reaches around him to the counter and picks up the newest tchotchke, placing it in Carlos’s hand. 

“It’s cheesy,” he starts, covering Carlos’s palm with his hand to prevent Carlos from looking at it as he spoke, “but I saw it while I was running errands today and it made me think of you. And well...I just wanted you to have a physical reminder, in case I don’t say it enough.”

Carlos studies him, gaze curious as he looks down at their hands, TK’s still covering his own and whatever the small, metal object was. TK takes a deep breath and moves his hand, giving Carlos a look at the mysterious object. 

“I know it’s stupid,” he began, “but I just wanted you to remember, you know? My heart is yours, and it always will be.” 

Carlos hears the words his boyfriend is saying, but he finds that he can’t respond. The sight of the object laying on his palm - a small, gold skeleton key with a heart on the end - has stolen all the breath from his lungs and all the words from his mind. The only thing within him now is the sense of overwhelming love for the man before him, who is watching him nervously. 

“You don’t have to do anything with it,” TK was saying as he fiddled with the strings of his hoodie. “You don’t even have to keep it if you don’t want to. I just saw it and...it seemed right.” 

TK was looking at him again and Carlos hated that he was leaving him hanging. He didn’t want the other man to get the wrong idea, but he was too overwhelmed to speak. So he did the next best thing. He reached for TK, key still clutched in his hand, and gently tipped his face up from where he was anxiously studying his feet so that their eyes met. He hoped TK could see the depth of the emotions he was feeling in them, but just in case he pulled him into a kiss, doing his best to say what words had failed to express. 

That kiss turned into another and it was several minutes before they separated long enough to breathe, and speak. And in that moment, foreheads pressed together in their kitchen and a small gold key pressed into Carlos’s palm that words finally returned to him. 

“You have mine too,” he told TK softly. “You have since the day I met you, and it’s yours for as long as you want.”

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 110

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Chapter 110: Open This

Though the Hako Onna's position could change, the position of the items inside the chests could not. In other words, if somebody had already opened a chest and seen what was in it, then the next person did not have to waste a chance on the previously opened chest.

Opening the chests was dangerous, but there was potential profit in the danger. If they could find an item that could kill the Hako Onna or give her rest, or if it was the strongbox passcode or something like that, then the humans would gain the advantage.

After his speech, Sun Yuanzhou swept his gaze through the crowd, voice terrifyingly cold: "I know what you're all thinking. You want to pick up other people's leftovers, right? Zhu Meng, you've played the game before. Tell them, can Hako Onna enter chests that have already been opened?"

"Of course she can," Ruan Nanzhu answered evenly. "The chests close after opening, so Hako Onna can definitely move inside. For those who want to avoid danger, I recommend you don't try to play for leftovers. It’s better to starve."

"Hear that?" Sun Yuanzhou said. "Intel. That's what's most important right now—intel. Open boxes in groups of at least two. This way, if anything happens, there's someone to take the record."

Frankly put, this was so that should anyone open up a Hakobito or the Hako Onna, they wouldn't disappear without anyone knowing.

"That's right, didn't Xiao Ji open up a power called False Answers yesterday?" Ruan Nanzhu told everybody what they'd discovered earlier in order to prevent anybody else from getting tricked. "In the tabletop, this power meant that the player acting as Hako Onna could lie. But here, the power's changed accordingly—Hako Onna can hide in chests and sound like people you know. So if you hear any sounds, don't think that someone you know has been caught."

Sun Yuanzhou nodded his own understanding, and looked at the group.

"Any other questions?"

The people seated around the table began to whisper among themselves, discussing the information Ruan Nanzhu gave them and Sun Yuanzhou's suggestions.

"We're also not going to make you open any chests. If you think you can bear the hunger, then go on, starve." Sun Yuanzhou added one last option: "You can also wait until you're so hungry that you can't take it any longer, and open a chest then."

"I have a question." A young woman from the group stood up. Lin Qiushi remembered her name was Xuan Zihui. She pointed a finger at Ruan Nanzhu. "She's the one who's been telling us all this information. If she's lying to us, we have no way of knowing."

When he heard this, Sun Yuanzhou started to say something. But Ruan Nanzhu laughed, raising his chin and speaking with derision: "If you'd like, you don't have to believe me at all. I don't mind."

Sun Yuanzhou, "exactly." He was clearly taking Ruan Nanzhu's side against Xuan Zihui's suspicions. "If you can provide any other intel, nobody would mind."

Xuan Zihui wanted to add something else, but was stopped by a tug from someone beside her, indicating she should stop.

"If we were in another door, I might have something to gain from lying to you. But in this door, there's no profit to speak of from lying." Ruan Nanzhu wasn't even looking at Xuan Zihui, evidently disdainful of her doubts. "Increase the number of Hakobito, and you think I'll have an easier time beating this game?"

"The nature of this door is a bit special. We can set all of that aside for now. I think it's best we focus on the matter of opening the chests," someone spoke up as peacemaker.

Sun Yuanzhou fished out sticky notes from his bag and distributed them among those gathered. He warned everybody that if anyone managed to open up an item or one of Hako Onna's powers, then they had to talk. There could be no hiding.

People took the sticky notes with a rich range of expressions. Everybody clearly was taking their own measure of the situation.

After that everybody made a pact to exchange information every day at noon. They would trade discoveries from the day before and also check on the number of survivors.

When the meeting concluded, the group scattered.

"Do you think they'll open up any chests?" Lin Qiushi began discussing with Ruan Nanzhu. They had him to listen to chests. Compared to everybody else, they had a much wider margin of safety.

"No," Ruan Nanzhu said. "They're all sly old foxes keen on surviving. Nobody will open a chest today at least."

"Then we have to wait until morning?" Lin Qiushi understood Ruan Nanzhu's meaning. "Breakfast, right?"

Ruan Nanzhu smiled.

"Yeah. Though that's only one meal a day, you don't have to starve if you've got the one meal."

"Honestly, upon careful thought, this is not a bad method," Liang Miye sighed. She was talking about the door's restriction. After all, if it didn't force them to open up the chests, then these people could definitely hole up in this mansion for months.

She mumbled, "who doesn't want to get out as soon as possible though…"

That night, many people lost sleep. Perhaps it was due to hunger. Perhaps it was terror.

Lin Qiushi didn't manage to sleep well either. For most of the night, he stayed halfway in and out of dreams. Amidst the drowsiness, he suddenly felt Ruan Nanzhu climb into his bed.

"Nanzhu…" Lin Qiushi mumbled. "What is it?"

Ruan Nanzhu got up close to Lin Qiushi's ear and whispered, "Linlin, are you hungry at all?"

Lin Qiushi, "a bit…"

Who wouldn't be hungry after not eating all day? He was only hungry, however, not so starved that he couldn't stand it.

But he didn't expect that after he said this, Ruan Nanzhu would fish something out of his own pajama pocket. Lin Qiushi looked down and saw that it was a piece of chocolate.

"Half for you and half for me." Pinching the chocolate between his fingers, Ruan Nanzhu lightly snapped it apart. "It'll be our secret."

The corners of his eyes curved up, and Lin Qiushi thought his smile was very lovely.

"How much did you bring?" Lin Qiushi asked.

"Not much…" Ruan Nanzhu answered. He tore the wrapper off and brought the chocolate to Lin Qiushi's lips. "Go ahead, eat."

Before Lin Qiushi could say anything, he felt the chocolate push into his mouth. On reflex he gave Ruan Nanzhu's fingers a lick, and saw Ruan Nanzhu's pupils darken.

Ruan Nanzhu, "is it sweet?"

Lin Qiushi nodded.

Ruan Nanzhu got closer and lapped at his lips.

"It is sweet."

He didn't eat the other piece, but wrapped it back up and stuffed it into his pocket.

"How come you're not eating?" Lin Qiushi asked.

"I'm not hungry," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Sleep. We have to wake up early tomorrow."

Lin Qiushi watched Ruan Nanzhu's eyes. However impressive he was, Ruan Nanzhu was still just a regular human; he also got hungry if he didn't eat.

Lin Qiushi still wanted to talk, but Ruan Nanzhu was already squirming into his arms, kissing him once on the chin and whispering, "shh, stop talking, you'll wake Miye. Go to sleep already."

Seeing Ruan Nanzhu's adamant attitude, Lin Qiushi could only give in. He reached out and wrapped his arms tightly around Ruan Nanzhu.

The Ruan Nanzhu inside this door wasn't small or frail—he was just a few degrees livelier compared to outside. At least, Lin Qiushi thought, if they were outside, he wouldn't dare to fantasize about wrapping Ruan Nanzhu up in his arms to tenderly cherish...

The first thing next morning, Liang Miye stared at the hugging clump of people on the bed, eyes bugging out.

"Good morning," Ruan Nanzhu greeted her easily upon waking.

Liang Miye said, "you two…"

Just as she wanted to ask why they were sharing a bed, she saw Ruan Nanzhu press a kiss to Lin Qiushi's cheek, calling, "Linlin, time to wake up."

Lin Qiushi mumbled drowsily, "good morning."

Liang Miye, "…" Oh fuck, she seemed to have learned something she shouldn't have known. The leader of Obsidian was dating one of his own members?! Wasn't that a bit too similar to her own boss?!

Neither Lin Qiushi nor Ruan Nanzhu reacted to Liang Miye's shock, washing up in tranquil peace and heading to the dining room.

Once in the dining room, they saw the atmosphere among the crowd and knew their guess last night was correct. Of course the door wasn't going to be merciful and grant them a loophole—if they didn't open any chests, they couldn't have breakfast either.

Only Xiao Ji, who'd opened up a chest yesterday, was happily stuffing his mouth with hotcakes. People watched from around him, eyes red with jealousy.

"Heheh. No use looking at me like that. If you want to eat just open up some chests."

Lin Qiushi's group found chairs to sit in and waited for others to show. After a while, Sun Yuanzhou's group arrived late. They sat down, gave everyone a smile, and began picking up and eating the food on the table—these people had also opened some chests.

"You guys opened the chests?" Xuan Zihui, who'd voiced suspicions about Ruan Nanzhu yesterday, hurried to ask. "What did you find?"

"You could say we were lucky, but you could also say we weren't." Sun Yuanzhou only spoke after swallowing a mouthful of porridge. "Two empty boxes, one power for Hako Onna."

"We opened up another power!" The crowd was slightly despairing. "What did you open??"

Sun Yuanzhou put the power card on the table. Lin Qiushi was closest, and read the text in a moment: Open This.

"What does that mean??" Everybody looked toward the only one who knew the rules—Ruan Nanzhu.

"It's a troublesome power," Ruan Nanzhu sighed. "The Hako Onna can force a player to open a designated chest…"

The group sank immediately into silence.

"Meaning what? Meaning she can choose somebody to die?" The one speaking was a newbie who looked on the verge of breakdown. "Is that what that means?"

"Yes." Ruan Nanzhu's answer was light.

"But this is also our chance." Seeing looks of despair surface on everybody's faces, Ruan Nanzhu continued in a warmer tone. "The Hako Onna and Hakobito can actually be killed. It just takes one of the special items. And, the way to kill them is to use the item on the chest before opening it. These items are hidden inside the chests, so if you can open one up, you can render this power null."

Nobody replied, because everybody knew in their hearts that things wouldn't be so easy.

With two hundred chests, who know where those items were hidden?

A hopeless aura enveloped the crowd. Around the dining table, the sound of crying once again started.

Sun Yuanzhou clearly had no good feelings to spare the sobbing, breathless newbies. As soon as he finished eating he got up and left with his companions.

Ruan Nanzhu and Lin Qiushi didn't dally around the dining table either—it wasn't like they could eat at any rate.

"Let's go see about the chests in the study first," Ruan Nanzhu suggested after leaving the dining room.

"Okay," Lin Qiushi nodded.

They got to the study, and Lin Qiushi selected two random chests. After bending down and listening closely to confirm no sounds were coming from inside, he took a deep breath and decided to be the first to open one.

"Let me try first," Lin Qiushi said. He actually wasn't all that confident. With another deep breath, he clasped the top of the chest and lifted with force—empty. There was nothing in the chest at all. As he exhaled in relief, Lin Qiushi also felt a sense of disappointment.

He hadn't been able to open up a useful item.

"You take the next chest," Ruan Nanzhu said, looking toward Liang Miye who stood off at the side, not saying much.

"Me?" Lin Qiushi was a bit shocked. She was already mentally prepared to go hungry for two days—it was Lin Qiushi's power, after all. Two days wasn't much anyways, it wouldn't kill her. But she hadn't thought that Ruan Nanzhu would give her this opportunity.

"Mh," Ruan Nanzhu nodded.

Liang Miye had wanted to refuse, but then saw determined Ruan Nanzhu was.

"It's only two days," he said. "It's not a big deal."

Liang Miye, "alright… But you don't have to starve either. I brought in some food of my own. Though it's not much, it'll do to curb the hunger."

Ruan Nanzhu shot her a smile.

"Okay then."

Liang Miye chose a chest. Lin Qiushi gave it a listen, then nodded, indicating she could open it. Like Lin Qiushi, she held her breath when she got ready and opened the chest with careful motions. There was something inside her chest—a card with a number 3 on it.

"It's the passcode to the safe!" Lin Qiushi exclaimed.

"Not so bad," Liang Miye grinned, slipping the card into her pocket.

Ruan Nanzhu, however, didn't smile. In fact, he sighed.

"What's the sigh for?" Lin Qiushi asked him.

"Opening the safe is the most troublesome way of getting out of here," Ruan Nanzhu told him.

"Why do you say that?" Liang Miye asked.

"Because the passcode might not be in a single person's possession. So when it comes time to leave, who does the hint go to?" Ruan Nanzhu said. "But it's too early to think about that now. We'll talk later."

As the three kept discussing matters, they heard, coming from the dining room downstairs, a young girl's wailing cry. This cry was piercing and anguished—it belonged to the Hako Onna.

When they heard this sound, all three of their expressions changed for the worse.

In the tabletop, Hako Onna couldn't use a power immediately after a player opens one up. She must first cry to make the power truly belong to her. Though Hako Onna's cry exposed her location, it told all the players at the same time that she had gained one more power.

"I've got such a bad feeling about this," Liang Miye said.

Neither Lin Qiushi nor Ruan Nanzhu spoke.

The entire mansion was sunk in an air of despondency. Lin Qiushi came down from the second floor and saw pale-faced newbies sitting in the living room. They seemed to have given up on any hope of surviving, sitting there utterly still like wooden figures.

These were all people that Wei Xiude had brought inside, but Wei Xiude was currently nowhere to be seen. Clearly, after these people became a hindrance, he'd given up on them.

Lin Qiushi thought that this guy really ought to change his name, from Wei "Meritorious" Xiude to Meritless. It would be more fitting.

When it came lunchtime, only half of the group of twenty could move their chopsticks. The rest either didn't come to the dining room at all or they sat there staring.

Sun Yuanzhou was a bit shocked that Ruan Nanzhu also wasn't eating. He asked, "you didn't open one either?"

"I was scared," Ruan Nanzhu pouted, all soft and weak as he leaned against Lin Qiushi's shoulder. His long lashes trembled, and his expression was pitiful. "What if I open it and something weird comes out?"

Sun Yuanzhou said, "but you can't keep not eating."

It seemed that he liked Ruan Nanzhu enough to care about him this much.

Ruan Nanzhu didn't reply.

There really was a good amount of people not eating, even a few veterans. Thanks to Xiao Ji, Wei Xiude managed to eat his fill. His look of contentment did not put others in a good mood.

After eating, the group traded some information. No one had yet opened up any particularly useful items. Only one person found a can of gasoline.

Ruan Nanzhu explained the gasoline's use. It can restrict the Hako Onna's movement once or kill a Hakobito, but the condition to use it was that you had to be certain that the Hakobito or Hako Onna were in that particular chest, and use it while the chest was closed.

The person who found the gasoline let out a breath and said he was safe for tomorrow then. As long as he used the gasoline before opening the chest, he could be a hundred percent certain that the chest he opened was safe.

Liang Miye also told everyone about them finding a piece of the strongbox passcode, but she didn't tell them what the digit was. She only said that if anyone else found any, they could work together. Whoever had more digits could get the key, and if everybody found only one, then they would play rock-paper-scissors for the key.

This was the fairest method. Plus, others hadn't found any other digits yet, so everybody quickly agreed.

After exchanging intel, the group dispersed.

Ruan Nanzhu seemed a bit sleepy. He kept yawning after getting up from the table.

Lin Qiushi asked, "what's wrong? Are you not feeling well?"

"Mh, I want to sleep," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Let's go back to the room first."

He rubbed his eyes, looking really quite tired.

“Alright. Did you not sleep well last night?"

They walked up to the second floor and returned to their room. Ruan Nanzhu sat down on the side of the bed, but didn't get in. His gaze fell on a chest by the wall.

Sitting behind him, Lin Qiushi paused.

"Zhu Meng?"

Ruan Nanzhu didn't answer.

"Zhu Meng?" Lin Qiushi came up to him and patted him on the shoulder, asking, "what's going on with you?"

Ruan Nanzhu's head whipped around, and he said, "…nothing."

A touch of hesitation surfaced between his brows, but in the end he still said, "nothing."

Liang Miye, "Zhu Meng, you didn't eat right? I'll go make some instant noodles for you."

She'd actually brought in instant noodles.

Liang Miye went to the kitchen to boil water. Lin Qiushi stayed seated beside Ruan Nanzhu, thinking Ruan Nanzhu wasn't feeling well. He put a hand to Ruan Nanzhu's forehead and confirmed Ruan Nanzhu wasn't running a temperature.

"Does it hurt anywhere?"

Ruan Nanzhu shook his head. He seemed a bit disconcerted by his own condition as well.

"I'm fine."

Lin Qiushi didn't reply. He followed Ruan Nanzhu's line of sight and saw the black wooden chest by the wall. It was still a normal chest, but judging by Ruan Nanzhu's gaze, one would think there was something of tremendous importance inside that chest.

An absurd thought appeared in Lin Qiushi's mind, and his expression went frozen. His voice, when he spoke, had become raspy: "Zhu Meng."

He took Ruan Nanzhu's face in his hands and pulled it by force to face him.

"Stop looking at that chest."

Ruan Nanzhu didn't answer. His expression didn't look right at all.

Lin Qiushi, "Zhu Meng?"

Ruan Nanzhu reached up and pressed his hand to Lin Qiushi's arm. Then, he pried Lin Qiushi's hand off him and turned back, gaze once again landing on that chest in the corner.

"I think there's an important item in that chest."

As soon as those words were out, Lin Qiushi knew he'd guessed correctly—the Hako Onna had used a power.

Open This. There must be something important in there. Maybe it's something that couldn kill the Hako Onna. As long as it's opened, they could leave here and return to reality. Ruan Nanzhu's eyes grew more and more determined. He slowly stood up from the bed.

"Nanzhu—" Lin Qiushi couldn't care for much else at this point, calling out Ruan Nanzhu's name directly. He grabbed Ruan Nanzhu around the waist. "Nanzhu, wake up!!"

Ruan Nanzhu didn't speak. He was very strong, easily pulling off the arm Lin Qiushi held him with and continuing toward the chest.

"Nanzhu—" A layer of cold sweat dotted Lin Qiushi's forehead. He used all his strength, but only managed to slightly slow Ruan Nanzhu's walking speed. "Nanzhu you gotta wake up, you can't open that chest!!"

He was roaring, trying to snap Ruan Nanzhu out of the illusion, but it was of no use. Ruan Nanzhu couldn't hear his voice at all, only continued forward step by step. He was already moments away from reaching the chest.

Because of Lin Qiushi's calls, Liang Miye had also come out of the kitchen. Seeing such a scene she yelled in fright, "Linlin, what's wrong!"

"Hako Onna's power!" Head soaked in sweat, Lin Qiushi was panting heavily. "Quick, come help me!"

Liang Miye also dashed over to help grab onto Ruan Nanzhu with Lin Qiushi.

But in the face of Ruan Nanzhu's immense strength, their attempts to stop him were like mayflies dashing themselves upon a tree. It was in this critical moment that an idea flashed in Lin Qiushi's mind. He yelled, "Liang Miye! Quick! Grab my backpack!"

Though she didn't know what for, Liang Miye still made a run for the backpack, dashing back to Lin Qiushi with it.

"Now what?!"

Lin Qiushi said, "hold onto Ruan Nanzhu!"

He took the backpack and swiftly began to dig through it—he didn't know if it would actually work or not, but this was the last hope of Ruan Nanzhu's survival!

[Ch. 109] | [Ch. 111]