#the going out on a whim and being able to walk wherever we decided to go?

[artemisbarnowl]

Trying to be very normal and casual about going back to melbourne tomorrow but actually im going insane

[icharchivist]

For as much as I really enjoy your take that Seofon sees being in the Eternals as the only thing he's allowed to be and likening him to a dog on the leash of his own incredible power yearning for freedom, couldn't the opposite also be true?

The more experiences he made with the other Eternals and the Captain especially strengthened his conviction to not stray from his path and keep protecting the world. So it's more like he put the leash on himself specifically so everyone else doesn't have to bear that burden and can keep enjoying their lives

At the end of the day it's fully up to interpretation, but it's fun to wonder

I actually would agree yes!

my "dog on a leash" metaphor was more about the specific situation of tasting experiences he will never be able to commit to in a sense.

and if i continue with the metaphor, it doesn't mean the dog wants to get out of that leash, the dog still love its owner (the goal Seofon has in mind) and still can go anyway his owner will take him (he can taste different experience but he has to remember not to stray from his goal).

And that "leash" i'm alluding to is something he himself decided for himself (like how dogs are wolves who willingly allowed themselves to be domesticated). In fact i'm sureif we continue on that metaphor, Seofon would be this type of dog who wouldn't let their owner drop the leash because this is something he chooses for him anytime.

a dog on a leash isn't miserable, he's content with his life. And if their owner take them out regularly it's also likely the dog will like his owner even more knowing that they're not locked in a cage either.

And besides, if the dog usually stay close to his owner, he won't feel the pull on the leash at all, so if his owner brings him in a place that would be a neat experience, if the dog can still run around without pulling the leash (either because his owner runs with him or because he leash is just that long) this pull won't be felt even though he's far from home and he can enjoy his run.

As long as you see the thing holding on the leash as a being who can move too (like a person, like a goal, which will allow him to be more flexible) and not like, a dog house (in which case it would be limiting), i think the imagery can still be applicable.

Being "pulled by a leash" doesn't mean that he would be yearning for Freedom, i'd say. I think it just means that he can wander wherever he wants as long as his leash allows him to, and he won't even feel the leash, but once he strays slightly too far away he will feel the pull of the leash. It can be disappointing as it happens, but ultimately, it doesn't mean he wants to be out of his leash.

So this imagery can be used still on that regard too.

but ultimately i was using this imagery originally just on specifically the feeling of being able to roam free until suddenly you can feel the pull holding you back, originally (despite all my elaboration just now) i was just thinking of the feeling of being pulled back without meaning to say "this is the only way Seofon knows how to live" yaknow?

But yeah, Seofon still is able to experience new things, he's still able to go around and get a taste at a lot of things, and seeing those things is what strengthen his resolve about why he cannot stray from his goal.

and i think Seofon is happy with this goal. I genuinely think that he's happy to be with the Eternals, he's happy to be able to use his power for good, he's content. But sometimes i do think he can get this pull of knowing that there's nothing else he can do anyway. He can still happily walk that path and know that it's not like he can leave this path either.

In the end it's all of his own making and he's happy with that, but he still holds himself back to one goal itself.

and if we keep going with the metaphor, this makes Sieten't a wolf through and through. More powerful, with sharp teeth, free to move as he sees fit, being able to put his own whims over any duty, like fighting the dragons just to have some fun. He has nothing holding him back.

but there's this story i read once, of a wild wolf meeting a guard dog, and snarling at the dog having a leash, and how could he stand such treatment? but the guard dog is content. Sure, his movements are limited, but his owner still have him walk around, feeds him every single day, gives him a roof over his head when it rains, and loves him deeply. The wolf is only out for himself, has nothing to come back to, no one to take care of him on a bad day, no one to make sure he has affections on the daily to survive. Food isn't guaranteed everyday for the wolf. And the dog just need to content with his leash, that he doesn't even feel most of the time because the benefits from his owner's love means he doesn't even /want/ to stray this far away from home to feel the pull of the leash to start with. The wolf is free to roam, is more powerful. But is it worth it?

Obviously there's different way to explore it, and i think that since it's not like Seofon is regularly in a situation of "pulling that leash" it's not like the metaphor is fitting to use all the time around his character.

but at least that would be my run down of it, if it makes sense?

[imimi7]

Salvation

Hi, it's been a while. Sorry for not being active and not posting , college has been really hectic lately but now my semester is coming to an end so I think I'll be able to give this fanfiction more time. Here is the 2nd chapter. Hope y'all enjoy.

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Chapter 2: A Marionette

The morning of new beginnings, Jia gets ready for her interview, putting up an elegant white dress. “I will finally get to see the so-called crazy CEO,” she thinks while straightening her hair.

Jia decided to not go to Babel with her uncle and instead took her own car, she did not want him to get involved with her interview or recruitment process. After reaching the company building, she takes her sunglasses off and takes in the sight of the tall standing exquisite building, hiding behind the glamour of which were the sorrows of hundreds of thousands of wronged lives and an endless story of corruption.

“Annyeonghaseyo, I’m here for an interview. Could you please tell me where is it being conducted?” She asks the receptionist.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, but there are no interviews scheduled as of now.”

“But..I got a call yesterday. I’m here for the CEO’s assistant’s post.”

“OH, are you Miss Han Jia?”

“Yes.”

“My apologies Ma’am, you have already been hired.”

“What? But the interview…” Jia got an idea by now what was going on, she was hired without the interview because she was connected to Wusang’s chairman. She was not quite happy about this but again, nothing fair happens in this company and if this was making her aim easier, then be it. She knew she was not underqualified for the job so that’s not even an issue. Without wasting any more time, she asked for directions to the CEO’s office. She met an employee midway who was taking coffee for the chairman.

“This is for Mr. Jang, right? I will take it.” She knocks at the door and enters with the coffee in her hands. “Good morning, sir.” She walks towards the desk with a slight smile and sets the coffee cup down. “Thank You for hiring me, I will not disappoint you.”

Han Seo gets up from his chair with a bright smile, extending his hand he says, “Jia Ssi, happy to see you. Of course, you won’t disappoint, you are Mr. Seung Hyuk’s niece.”

This guy seemed far from a scary psychopath, Jia thought, shaking his hand firmly. “Thank you, sir. Although, I don’t really get how does my capability depend on my uncle’s name.”

“I am really sorry if it offended you…I-I did not mean that. I meant that your uncle is great at what he does so…it looks like it runs in the family.” He says in an apologizing tone, an innocent and warm smile planted on his face.

“It’s alright. I get that a lot. Is there something you want me to do right now? I will start arranging your schedule right away.”

“Umm..Jia Ssi. You don’t have to be stressed, even the coffee, you did not have to bring it in. We have a lot of employees here and I want you to know that you can just enjoy your time here. Also, there is not particularly any schedule right now.”

Jia stares at him with raised eyebrows, this was perplexing. “What the hell is he saying? I don’t have to work? Why else would he hire me? This guy wants to pay me just for nothing? Is he even the chairman? He does not care about his company how…..” Jia thought, her mind being bombarded with tons of questions, until she realized, “He is..not the owner…not the real one. A marionette, he is a marionette.”

“Jia Ssi? Are you okay? You kind of zoned out for a moment.”

“Yeah..yeah. Sir, I understand why you hired me. But not letting me work is too much, I am taking the salary that a lot of other applicants might have needed desperately, it will only be fair for me to hold this job if I work for this position.”

“Like I said, I have nothing lined up right now.” He did not know what to say, because he was not the one who took decisions. Even if he had something lined up, a meeting, an interview, it would first have to go through the confirmation of Han Seok. He could not order his secretary around because he was not in a position to order. “Perhaps you would like to join me in a shooting game? I and your uncle are meeting up tomorrow.Err..you can…take any important calls while I’m..y’know…busy with the game and make a report of important events later? Would that be fine?”

“Something better than nothing, I would love to. Maybe you will start trusting me more with work then.” She said with a disappointed smile. “I can get a lot of information from you, then. Let’s see, Jang Han Seo, if you are one of the wretched beings here or are just a minor chess piece on their board.”

“Andwae, andwae, Jia Ssi, it’s not that I don’t trust you..”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to explain it to me. Okay then, I will be at my desk. Please call me if you need anything, Sir.”

“Sure..sure. Fighting!” He said with a cheerful grin.

A few minutes later, Han Seo rings up Seung Hyuk, “Your niece seems…very adamant. Actually, it does not really look like I need to look out for her.”

“No..no! See that’s why you need to. Don’t let her do anything. Anything. And especially, don’t let her be anywhere near your brother.”

“Well..she gets really upset when I tell her to not do anything. Don’t worry though, now that we have joined forces, I should look out for you and your family, right?”

“Jeongmal kamsahamnida, hwe jang nim.”

After the work hours are over, Han Seo starts leaving the building and Jia follows. In the parking lot a suspicious toy car comes up to him. Jia watches from a safe distance. Han Seo seems to tell his bodyguards to do something about it and suddenly starts panicking. The toy car follows him wherever he tries to run and hide.

“Bomb. BOMB. It’s a bomb. Do something!” He shouts.

“Who would dare to kill Babel’s chairman in such a whim? Looks like a fragile plan. Well looking at how easily he gets scared, they won’t even need a real bomb.” While thinking that, Jia runs toward the car and kicks it hard with her stilettos, causing it to fly back a bit farther from Han Seo. The timer goes off and what comes out of the toy is not a fiery blast but rather a mocking shower of confetti. Jia walks up to it and picks up the piece of paper which had popped out. Han Seo runs behind her telling her to not touch it.

“HAJIMAA! It’s dangerous.”

“It’s just a paper, Sir. A message for you, I suppose. Someone must have pulled a prank.”

“C….Vin…Aissshh Vincenzo!”

“Vincenzo? The consigliere?”

Han Seo does not reply but the wrinkles of worries on his forehead are enough to tell.

“Sir, you don’t look well. You should go home now, don’t worry about what happened. It is just a prank. If you are still anxious about it, I’ll look into it.”

“No..no..don’t do anything. It’s just a prank, you said? Gwenchana, I’ll be fine.”

“Goodnight, then. Please take care.”

“Vincenzo…shall we meet soon, then?”Jia smirks.

[madlymiho]

Summary: It's been a few years since you're working as Katakuri's maid, a few years he's also ignoring the blooming feelings he has for you. Unfortunately, with his soon-to-be arranged wedding coming, the possibility to confess seems more and more impossible. Though, on the Halloween Night, as you're allowed to enjoy the festivities on his island, he becomes upset and worry to see that you're not back after midnight. Determined to find you, this spooky evening might be the opportunity you have both always wished for...

Warning: angst and fluff 🍪

Words: 3901

@elliemehl​ @alice1290​ @hanajimasama​ thanks for enabling this so intensely!

Katakuri: A moonlight promise (read after the cut)

“Anything else, Sir?”

Your voice sounds like the softest feather, sad for sure, but your grace is still unmatchable despite your low status in the society. You’re a perfect nobody, someone he shouldn’t even have noticed in the first place. You have been chosen because, let’s be honest, you didn’t have the slightest chance to gain a powerful position in the current society on his island. Being a house cleaner for the most powerful Sweet Commander of the Charlotte Family is an honor for most of people, and as you didn’t have the choice, at your twenty-five birthday, you joined the squad in charge of his mansion. You’re coming from a family of farmers, offering every month a bit of your lifetime to be allowed to remain here. That’s something he finds particularly despicable, but since it’s his mother’s rules, and since he would do everything to please her whim, he has never tried to save you from your cruel fate. Though, Katakuri definitely noticed you since day one. You were so clumsy and afraid to make mistakes that you dropped a plate of fresh animal cakes you brought back from the castle’s kitchen, somehow a way for you to please his everyday munchies. He could have thrown you away for the lack of attention you have been exposing that day, but deep down, Katakuri found you utterly adorable. You had something different in your eyes, a fire he wasn’t sure to understand. At first, he really thought that you were there to defy his authority, never acting awkwardly anymore, always present to answer his demands, but with time, months after months, he understood you were nothing but the purest soul around. Dedicated, soft and understanding, having you by his side could soothe his deepest whims and angers. You never looked at him with those fearful eyes anymore, only the brightest colors of your incredible devotion. He felt so lucky, his own heart perhaps appreciating the new music, heartbeats slightly increasing whenever you were entering the room with your big goofy smile, and those features full of light and happiness. However, came the day he received an order from his mother. Something he has been pushing away for years, preferring to keep a lonely existence, only to maintain the current print of the Charlotte Family over the world. Though, his mother decided differently, and her orders were always absolute. Katakuri, despite his age, despite his will to remain alone, will have to marry the daughter of this powerful smuggler in Grand Line and the New World, only to provide more technological weapons for his mother’s war. It was political, no love required in this union, but alas, Katakuri felt his heart completely shattered as soon as he received the news. The sensation increased even more when he understood you were probably aware of this information yourself. You smile changed; now it’s tinted with a deep sadness he has never seen before. It’s the kind of smile you’re wearing right now, as you’re finishing to gather his empty plates.

“No, Name, it was perfect, as always. Perhaps you should smuggle more of those peanut donuts you brought today, it was truly enjoyable.” Katakuri nods, sat against his mochi couch, his severe eyes peering down at you, his mouth fully covered one more time. You never discovered his ugly secret, at least. “I guess I’d be seeing you for dinner then. I heard Mama wanted to try a new cuisine, and there will be roasted chicken with a butternut gratin for once.” He pauses for a moment, and sighs. “Perhaps you’ll have some leftovers, if you wish. You have been working hard today, I can have a word with my own squad.”

You almost gasp to the unexpected act of kindness – a rarity when it comes to Katakuri, feeling truly embarrassed to shake your head.

“You don’t want that?” Katakuri frowns, his voice becoming slightly more concerned. “It’s a gift to have the same dinner than your master, Name.”

He feels a bit hurt in his ego, but he notices that you seem parted, and suddenly so shy to tell him something. Gosh, was he too harsh once more? He despises the fact you might be afraid of him.

“N-No, Sir, it would be an honor, as always, to stay by your side, but we have received a notification from the Whole Cake Island’s castle, and all the servants are authorized to celebrate Halloween this year…” Your voice doesn’t shake, but it’s not the most confident either. “I was hoping to…”

“I see.” Katakuri cuts it short, and dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “If it’s coming from Mama’s castle, I won’t forbid you to celebrate Halloween, an order is an order. I’ll ask one of my little sister to bring me my dinner; you can have your free time.” He pauses though, and looks back at you with the same coldness he tries to use whenever he doesn’t want to sound too concerned. “Will you be on your own, tonight?”

“No, I’m going with two maids from other houses, Perospero and Mont d’Or’s ones, Sir.” You assure with a firm nod, somehow happy to have the permission to celebrate one of your favorite tradition, but also upset that he doesn’t seem to have any plans for the night. “I won’t stay outside for too long, Sir, you have my word. I’ll be there to bring you your midnight snack, as always.”

He keeps looking at you, somehow surprised by the sudden need to justify yourself regarding your own activities of the night. Perhaps it’s a strategy to soothe his potential disappointed, if so, it seems to work, but as a man who can’t allow himself to have feelings for you, he eventually shakes his head.

“Non-sense, Name.” He says with a detached tone, stretching his legs as he has the intention to leave the room now. He can’t help but think what kind of costume you’re going to wear? How would be your makeup? All these thoughts are nothing some torture he needs to escape. “Perospero will certainly hand a lots of homemade candies and organize a big treasure hunt as always. You’ll have many things to try out there; it would be a shame if you don’t enjoy them all. Be home around midnight, but not before.”

You bite your bottom lip for a moment, and make a step forward, your hand coming up before you immediately press it back against your torso ; what are you even thinking about?

“But, what about you, Sir?” You mumble with a soft voice, cocking your head to encourage him to talk to you. “Aren’t you celebrating the Halloween festivities yourself? It’s a foggy day outside, but I’m sure this could be a good thing.”

He turns around, just to throw you one of his numerous serious look, his crimson irises remaining unreadable, even if you know him so well. He doesn’t answer to your plea, and simply walk out of the room, ignoring this intense urge he’s experiencing at this particular moment, the very which almost made him offer to spend the evening with him. Better be safe than sorry, and Katakuri imagines that there are certain things which must remain secret. No really, all of this wouldn’t be a good idea.

***

It’s past midnight and his entire thoughts are focused on one and only one person. He believes that indeed, you’re having a tremendous time outside, but for sure, he feels concerned. He saw you living the mansion with that cute and messy witch outfit, probably something you have prepared during your free time, collecting some material here and there to create your scary dress. You looked incredibly adorable and spooky, your face covered with some audacious bloody makeup for the show. Of course, he didn’t leave his room to wish you a good night; it would have been weird, especially for him, to care about his maids’ activities and their sudden gain of freedom, at least just for one night. He had his dinner, he carved a few pumpkins to put it in the garden, but something felt utterly different from usual. The sensation increased when you weren’t there to bring him his midnight snack, probably because deep down, he has been hoping you wouldn’t follow his advices and would come home sooner. Mmh, all of this is pretty upsetting for the Sweet Commander, his observation Haki working so hard that he’s anticipating the moment he would hear your light footsteps behind the door. He wishes that he would be able to sleep, but alas, even his tiredness abandoned him tonight. He growls deeply, scolding himself silently for being easily tormented by someone who’s nothing for the Charlotte Family.

After several minutes of a very unwelcomed torture upon his own mind, Katakuri decides that it’s more than enough, you should have come home sooner than this. Gathering his clothes, he dresses-up as usual, leather and spikes covering his muscular body, before he rolls his scarf around his head and heads out of his room, determined to find you, wherever you are. He didn’t expressly gave you an hour to come back home either, and surely, he’s not the one to decide, but perhaps something happened, and he doesn’t wish to learn that he could have done something rather than anticipating any kind of sorrow, right there, laid on his bed; it feels like a good excuse. Finally wandering into the almost empty streets of his island, it doesn’t take him too long to feel your presence, a few streets away, and all by yourself. So, you did lie to him earlier. You promised that you wouldn’t be alone, and yet, as he’s approaching in the dark, fog covering his large presence, he definitely notices the lack of escort around you. Another groan is earned from your carefree attitude, this very one loud enough for you to hear it. You almost jump on your feet, turning around, visible fear displayed on your pretty features.

“Who… Who’s here?” You ask with a shaky voice, trembling on your feet. “I’m…I’m working for the Charlotte Family, so you better not do something stupid!”

“And aren’t you doing something stupid yourself, Name?”

Katakuri steps out of the dark, crimson irises looking down at you with a rare intensity. It’s still foggy as hell, and you don’t have a proper look on his face, but clearly, you can sense his wrath towards you. Immediately, you flinch and lower your gaze, ready to be punished for your behavior. Maybe a night of freedom hasn’t been the best idea you had.

“Sir, I’m so sorry!” You try to explain, as you hear the familiar caster of his leather boot clicking in the dark. “I… I was supposed to go back to the mansion earlier, but I’ve lost something and I couldn’t go home without it!”

Katakuri clicks his tongue impatiently, feeling anger invading his blood.

“That’s the only excuse you think about to explain your lack of prudence?” He barks harshly, his voice echoing against the buildings. “You told me you weren’t alone! You told me your friends escorted you, was it all a lie after all? I trusted you enough to be loyal and respectful, giving you even more time to enjoy the festivities, and you’re spitting at the name of my Family so pitifully?”

“No, Sir, I promise I was not alone! My friends went home because they couldn’t stay any longer, and I wished I could fulfill my promise towards you, but I swear I had a good reason!” You look up and take a step closer, afraid but brave enough to challenge his wrath and make amends. “I lost the spoon you gave me for my birthday and I couldn’t bear the idea to walk back to you without the only precious item I have ever possessed…”

For a moment, Katakuri was about to continue his intense scolding, almost certain that you were lying to him, but as soon as you mentioned the gift he gave you, his cheeks turn into something pinker than usual. He remembers that one day you were serving him, looking a bit away, your head in the clouds... He learnt later that day that it was your birthday, and decided to offer you a silver spoon he kept from his childhood, the very one he was using during his first merienda, when he was alone and feared by everyone, founding the slightest peace in these moments of snacking. He thought you wouldn’t care about such a gift, but he had nothing better to offer you. He gulps, unsettled and flustered.

“You kept it?” He asks, cursing himself from picking those words instead of the logical ones he should think about.

Gently, you take other step forward, shaky hands coming up to press them onto his forearm. He doesn’t shift not try to escape your grip, the fog of the spooky night covering his intense blush. At least, in the middle of this mist, no one is able to see what’s happening here.

“I wouldn’t get rid of the only thing which matters to me, Sir…” You assure, before you look down, feeling dizzy to be allowed to be so close to him. “This is…This is the only thing I’ll cherish when you’d be married.”

His own stomach wrenches so hard that he has a hard time muffling his emotions, unable to fully understand the meaning of your words. It can’t be true. It’s forbidden. He’s the Sweet Commander of the Charlotte Family, the strongest, the fearless soldier, and yet, at this particular moment, he’s nothing else but a puppy. He swallows his spite, still harsh and cold, despite the fact he didn’t tell you to take off your hands.

“If you have something to say, speak loud and clear, don’t beat around the bush.” He abruptly drops, perhaps a bit too severely for the entire situation. Though, he finds himself unable to act differently, somehow worried about the words you might pronounce. “Remember your place, though, and the potential consequences of your statement. Life isn’t about the choices you wish to make, life is about the obligations you have to fulfill. I will not tolerate a childish remark regarding my wedding, nor an attempt to fight Mama’s orders.”

Softly, just so softly, your hands abandon his forearm, as you take a step backward, tears gleaming in your eyes, yet, you manage to keep a certain control upon your emotions. This sight for him is almost unbearable, tragic, and heartbreaking. He didn’t really say those words to you, in the end, but for himself. He wouldn’t have been upset at you if you wanted to confess something he’s afraid to hear, but at himself for being so eager to listen to you. He can’t fight Mama’s will. He has to be an example for his brothers and sisters.

“Nothing to state? Then, it’s time to go home. You have been wandering enough, and this spoon means nothing.” He turns around, his heart like a rock within his chest. No, he can’t. He can’t feel that way with you. “Also, I believe it’s time to thank you for your services. Tomorrow, you’ll pack to join Pudding’s island, you could serve her good there.”

Each word crushes a little bit more his already more than damaged heart, as he extends his hand to show the way back to his mansion. Under the pale light of the moonlight, and thanks to the fog surrounding you, at least he doesn’t have to witness your bitter tears. Head down, irises focused on your feet, you don’t wish to see his face anymore. The silent surrounding you is so uncomfortable that you almost believe he might hear your heartbeat, and it’s sorrowful melody. Yet as you’re lost in your thoughts, you suddenly bump into his back, Katakuri completely immobile, his arm turning into mochi to prevent any sort of attack. His Haki feels something, and it will come from the right. Before you can anticipate anything, he quickly grabs you and jumps aside, avoiding a shot of eggs in your direction. Harmless for sure, but it’s enough for you to let loose a surprised scream. Both of you can hear the chirping laughter of playful children, perhaps some orphans who love to play tricks during Halloween night. However, with all that fog, all this situation, the jack-o’-lantern floating in the air and watching you with their frightening empty eyes, the suspicious sounds and some far away laughter, you can’t help but feel definitely scared. That’s probably why you didn’t notice that you’re still trapped against Katakuri’s chest, both of your hands gripping his jacket strongly.

“I think it’s them who stole my spoon!” You gently cry, your eyes coming up, only to see that you’re still there… against him. “I’m…”

“It’s a scary night, where mischief and tricks are allowed.” Katakuri assures, this time, his large hand cupping your jawline. “And I have been harsh with you, haven’t I? Your emotions are shattered. Are you still scared, right now?”

You shake your head slowly, your bottom lip trembling under the softness of his touch, so different from his usual cold attitude. Does he really want you to go?

“No, Sir, I’m not scared when I’m with you.” You assure, before looking down. “I’m only scared when you’re not around…”

You’re opening-up one more time, because after all, this is probably the last time you’d be able to be close to him this way.

“I didn’t mean to insult Mama’s orders earlier, and I know very well my position in this world, Sir. But may the ghosts of the night witness me and give me their former strength; I’m also heartbroken to realize you’re going to get married and that you want me away by tomorrow.” You press your forehead against the bottom of his pec, and close your eyes. “Your presence soothes me more than I could imagine, and even if I’m not worthy of experiencing these feelings, they are there, Sir.” You pause, and feel that his hand moves from your jaw to the top of your head, caressing them with a light touch. “I’m not a noble nor a respectable woman, I don’t have any wealth, and my all life is nothing but servitude. I’ll be the maid of the Charlotte Family forever, trapped in my condition, unable to escape it no matter what I can wish for. But through your kindness, I’ve seen someone I fell in love with.”

He flinches to your statement, as he immediately withdraws his hand from your hair. You look up, concerned, only to see something unusual in his eyes. It’s not wrath, nor disgust… it’s fear.

“Name, you’re thinking out of your mind, because you haven’t seen my full appearance. Your feelings bloomed because of my sympathy towards you, but I’m still the monster people are afraid of.”

“Are you talking about the secret you hide behind your scarf, Sir?” You try with the best soothing voice you can offer. “I don’t believe you can be monstrous, Sir. Monsters are like those kids we met in the dark and throw eggs at you. You have the kindest soul among the Charlotte’s, your intentions are justified and genuine. You’re loyal to your family, but you have a heart, I know you enough to be certain of that. A man like that couldn’t be monstrous, no matter what a scarf rolled around his face might hide.”

A ravenous fire begins to burn within Katakuri’s chest, as he doesn’t believe he can fight those emotions until the end of time. No one has never been that kind towards him, his atrocious appearance always something deeply traumatizing for anyone who looked at him. He doesn’t wish to scare you, but at the same time, he somehow wishes to witness a real proof of your statement. Perhaps you would find him repulsive enough to run away? At least, he wouldn’t have to make that despicable choice between his heart and his mind right now. Therefore, with a slow gesture, Katakuri grips his scarf and starts to roll it off his face. Under the moonlight of this Halloween night, he would look like the most disgusting monster, but alas, this appearance would be his only one forever. Fangs finally exposed, Katakuri waits for the reaction he has been anticipating forever, his haki unable to be used as he’s not fully calm anymore. What will you say? Would you suddenly take a step backward, your fear unable to be muffled anymore? Peering down at you, he believes there won’t be any other way, any other ending for a man like him. Yet, as you’re staring at him, plastered against his torso, you don’t seem to go away.

“I don’t see any monster here…” You whisper tenderly, and smile at him. “You’re not hideous, and I don’t feel scared.”

Katakuri harshly swallows his spite, before he eventually cups both of your cheeks, the pad of his gloved thumbs caressing your skin.

“And I don’t wish you to go anywhere else but my mansion.” He answers, blushing harder than he would believe. “I don’t wish to cast you away. I was upset because of what I’m about to do.”

You frown, unsure, and he nods slowly.

“Finding good arguments to cancel this wedding, because Mama can be reasonable when she’s in the mood.” He continues, as he pulls you closer, more determined. “My wedding isn’t something as valuable as the weddings of other of my siblings. Mama wishes to have both the power and the strength to claim the pirate throne, and I shall be her weapon by her side, not a grounded husband, pleasing someone else’s whims. Mama will understand that.”

He squats down a little bit, until his eyes would be right in front of yours, his face dangerously close from yours. You have many thoughts crossing your mind, yet, not a single word is able to leave your mouth. Katakuri frowns.

“Will you stay by my side?” He asks with a weaker voice than expected, serious but flustered, his irises digging into yours. “I… don’t ever wish to lose you.”

You nod several times, both of your hands coming up to follow the curve of his jawline, silently analyzing the deep and forbidden beauty of his uncommon features. Katakuri eventually grabs one of your hand, pressing his lips onto your palm.

“If I ever need to marry someone, Name, I will do everything to marry you, and no one else.” He says, before he pulls you even closer. “But for now… I think I will just seal this promise with a kiss, if you allow me.”

Certain that his secret promise wouldn’t be busted by anyone in this foggy night, and once he’s sure you wouldn’t push him away anymore, Katakuri comes forward and presses his lips for the first time on yours, sealing this promise he has been thinking about for months already. Your love might be forbidden, unconventional and desperate, but as a man who has never known tenderness in the first place, he believes that he wouldn’t ever share this with anyone else. There, watched by the ghosts of Halloween and the gentle light of the lanterns, lips sealed, Katakuri feels like the happiest man in the world.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Escape

Summary: The Red Room haunts you, from the moment you stepped foot inside to long after you’ve left. Truth is, you don’t think there is any escaping it.

Warnings: 18+ Violence, Depression, Mentions of Death, Smut

Chapter 15

******

Silence settles over the building. Aside from the pained breaths escaping Bruce’s lips no one makes a sound.

After the stones had been set in the gauntlet, and there was a brief discrepancy over who would snap, Bruce decided to do it. Despite it being painful, he’d still managed to do it. Now you all wait for some sign of it having worked.

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

It’s the faintest sound but you recognize it, birds chirping. Scott walks over to the window. 

Natasha’s hand squeezes yours when a trill ring sounds. All eyes snap to the plastic device ringing on a nearby table.

Moving like a snail, Clint inches towards his cell phone. Tears spring into his eyes immediately and he scoops it up.

“Honey? Honey?” 

A smile breaks across you face. Natasha throws herself into your arms kissing your lips repeatedly. 

“Guys! I think it worked.” Scott calls.

But the joy is short lived. For you before anyone else.

Rushing wind. You listen closer. An aircraft of some sort? It gets louder.

You panic and quickly press the Black Widow symbol on your wife’s belt, just barely watching the black nanotech cover her body.

A weight presses on to your left arm. Pain bursts through your ribs. Water drips on your forehead.

When your eyes snap open there’s nothing but darkness, minus the sparking of electricity coming from your wrist. Cursing, you tap the band and almost jump when the nanotech suddenly spreads from the bands and over your body.

The dark toned suit covers you and gives you the additional strength to un-wedge your arm from the rubble.

You roll your shoulders, adjusting to the additional armor.

Tony was right, an iron suit would come in handy.

Suddenly you remember.

“Tasha!” You exclaim into your comms.“ Natasha answer me! Is anyone with Natasha?”

Assist finally boots up and you frantically search for Natasha’s vitals through the A.I.

“Tasha, baby, please tell me you’re okay.” 

Under different circumstances you wouldn’t have wanted everyone on the comms to hear your panic and distress. But this is your wife, you don’t give a single damn who hears if it means making sure she’s okay.

Just as your blasting through another wall of rubble, you hear the static in your ear, followed by her voice.

“Y/N, I’m-” she breaks up,“ I’m okay.”

“Where are you?” You ask, eyes searching the opening you stumble into.

Assist finally displays her vitals. Her heart rate is a little high but you expect nothing less. On a whim, as you hadn’t designed it for this, you ask Assist to find vitals on the baby. 

It’s highly possible it won’t work. 

So you’re breathing a sigh of relief when Assist displays the babies heart beat. They’re still alive and until an actual check up can be made that’s enough.

“I don’t know, but I’m with Clint.” Natasha answers after a minute.

Hearing that calms you. At least a little.

Still, you won’t truly settle until you see her, until you have her in your arms.

The three of you aren’t the only ones trapped. Eventually you hear Rhodey’s distress call, he’s under here somewhere in danger of drowning. 

You move as quickly as possible, searching for wherever Rhodey is. He’s with Rocket and Bruce. As you search, you catch bits and pieces of Tony, Steve, and Thor’s voices. 

A broken statement from Thor, of killing someone, comes through and you’re filled with dread. 

Thanos. 

It has to be. But how?

Everything that’s happening confuses the hell out of you. It’s clear that Tony, Steve, and Thor are fighting Thanos. Rhodey, Rocket, and Bruce are taking on water but Scott says he’s there. You’ve yet to hear from Clint or Natasha again, sans some unidentifiable grunting. 

You know you’ve reached Rhodey’s location when you step into knee deep water. 

Not wasting a second, you go under the water. It’s easy to find Rhodey and Rocket, they’re holding their breaths but struggling to get free. Swimming over, you lift the bits of rubble that have Rhodey pinned down before grabbing him and Rocket and bringing them to the small space you’d come from.

You dive back under in search of Bruce. 

Whatever is happening above is making the rubble down here fall faster. 

Finally you reach him. Despite the suit it’s still difficult to get the large man to the surface. But you manage to.

“Tha-thank you.” Bruce speaks through water filled coughs and deep breaths.

Simply nodding, you survey your surroundings. Assist lets you know that there’s a thick layer of debris above you. Too large a shift will result in your inevitable demise. 

“Guys we’re trapped down here. There’s too much rubble above us for me to break through.” You speak into the comms.

More static hits your ears and you know you’re too far under to get the signal to anyone above.

Just as you’re about to give up, a rapidly growing Ant-Man emerges from under the water. He scoops you all into his hand and bursts through the wreckage of the compound. 

As you rise, a big blue and red metal capsule flies over. It breaks apart before forming around Rhodey’s body. A suit.

Looking down you take in the many light circled portals. Familiar faces stand outside of them, the people you’d fought beside in Wakanda five years ago. Others you’ve never met. 

Scott lowers you to the ground and you jump out of his hand. A glance to your side reveals your wife, clad in her own black iron suit, and her best friend. 

War cries sound behind you. 

“AVENGERS!”

Everyone turns to face Thanos and his large army. You quickly produce two standard pistols. 

“Assemble!”

When you fight this time it’s harder than the last. Determination to beat Thanos drives each move you make. Every time you take down one of the many aliens, you feel as if you’re getting stronger.

The first time Thanos came you were solely motivated by protecting the universe. Now though, now you fight for your family, you fight for your wife and unborn child. You fight for the future that is so close you could taste it.

A groan falls from your lips at how many of these creatures there are. Ones you remember from Wakanda and new ones as well. 

Managing to clear the enemies in your immediate area, you pause to take a breather.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting tired lyubov moya.”

Natasha stops beside you, the mask of her suit disappearing to reveal her face. Apart from some dirt she looks fine.

“We both know I have stamina for days baby.” You retort cockily, also revealing your face.

Before you can see the flush of her cheeks, her mask reforms. 

“You two should really learn how to read a room.” Sam’s input in your conversation makes you laugh.

A smirk clear on your face, you shrug, speaking a noncommittal sorry into the comms before resuming the fight.

The fighting seems to last hours with no clear view of who’s to win. It all shifts though when Clint asks Steve what to do with the gauntlet.

Steve is unsure at first. The original plan was to return them after the snap but the bombing destroyed the portal. Scott is quick to remind you all of his van.

Except it’s in the middle of the sea of Thanos’ army. So everyone begins to work together to get the gauntlet to the van.

It literally becomes a game of hot potato. The gauntlet is passed through multiple sets of hands. Even getting from the King’s hands to yours to Peter’s.

Faintly through the comms you hear the gruff shout of the mad titan, but you have no clue what he said. It becomes clear though when his ships start to fire relentlessly.

Being completely out in the open, you scramble to find cover. Only for your wife to appear at you side. She throws her arm up, the shield from her suit covering the top of you both.

No, you hadn’t put the shield interface in your suit. You hadn’t had the time.

The blasts do more damage to Thanos’ army than it does to your side. He’s thinned his army by an enormous amount but doesn’t let up firing. That is until it suddenly stops. 

Everyone looks on as the ships aim to the sky.

A literal ball of fire shoots through the clouds. Crashing through the biggest ship and completely disabling it.

The second you recognize it as Carol you smile wide. Not just at seeing your friend but also at the obvious shift in the battle. It finally seems as though you have a chance.

Now to get those stones to the portal.

Both you and Natasha head toward where Carol landed, arriving to see Peter Parker handing her the gauntlet. 

“I don't know how you're gonna get it through all that.” The kid states, looking from the advancing wave of enemies to Carol. 

Wanda lands right behind the space traveling woman,“ don't worry-”

“She's not alone.” Your wife finishes.

Wanda smiles over at Natasha. Every woman apart of the battle assumes a spot around Carol, readying their weapons.

“Is it just me, or do you ladies feel insanely powerful right about now?” You ask, smiling approvingly at the female power surrounding you.

Pepper chuckles and Carol agrees.

From there each of you kick as much ass as possible to clear the way for Carol.

Natasha, Valkyrie, Wanda, and Pepper handle covering the air. They take down the giant flying creatures while also shooting at enemies on the ground. 

Despite trying to stick close to Carol, you end up getting caught in an onslaught of ape like aliens and the creatures from Wakanda. 

It takes a minute but you are able to take them all out. Chest heaving, your eyes snap over the field, lingering on the battles being had, and focusing on the most important part of everything.

Carol speeds through ships and enemies toward the van. From your position you see Thanos charging at her, only to be stopped by Tony, Pepper, and Rhodey. 

He stumbles back, but doesn’t lose focus of Carol and the gauntlet. You watch as he throws his weapon toward the van and you blast it with a repulsor beam that is milliseconds from missing but hits it’s target.

The sword is knocked off course, flying in the opposite direction as Carol gets the gauntlet to the van.

Pure euphoria spreads through your chest as she hands the gauntlet off to Scott before he and Hope vanish into the quantum realm.

Thanos rages, concentration switching from you to Carol, essentially locking on to you, the reason he’s failed.

“Uh, angry titan, angry titan!” You exclaim into the comms, shooting a repulsor beam at the giant, pistols forgotten all together.

It knocks him back, but only a little. You look around for a possible plan of action, only to stop short when the problem is resolved.

A lightening covered axe sails towards you, cleanly slicing through the neck of the titan, stopping inches from your form, and then returning to the hands of the god.

Beheaded, the titan’s body falls to the ground. The so called children of Thanos have long since been dealt with, leaving the few seemingly mindless creatures behind. But they’re quickly being dealt with.

Still you hold your breath, eyes falling to the ugly brown van stuck in rubble.

The quantum tunnel still pulses with light and you watch it closely. Only to mentally fist pump when Scott and Hope reappear in front of it, empty gauntlet in hand.

With the mad titan dealt with and the stones returned, the threat to the universe vanishes. Everyone deals with the remaining aliens until the field is littered with their bodies and rubble from destroyed ships.

Yet you don’t breathe easy. Instead you look all over the field, panning over superheroes and warriors, familiar faces meet your eyes but not the one your looking for.

Next you search the ground. Maybe she’s just unconscious or underneath a bit of rubble. But nothing.

Dread floods your system, thoughts whip through your head as you process that she’s nowhere to be seen. She can’t possibly be gone. You’d done everything you could to ensure you didn’t lose her.

What could’ve possibly gotten through the suit? How had you managed to screw that up?

Tony and Pepper, in each other’s embrace, look over to you. Their concerned gazes grabs Steve’s attention who looks at you as well. The lack of your wife’s presence beside you has them searching the field as well.

Your vision starts to blur, panic blinding you to whatever they start to say.

You quite literally start to crumble in on yourself, until you feel the soft hands on each side of your face, a familiar warmth accompanying them, but you struggle to focus on her.

“Breathe lyubov moya.” Her sultry voice slips into your ears and soothes your mind.

She strokes your cheeks with her thumbs, coaxing you into security.

With her whisper of “I’m okay” you’re finally breathing properly. Blinking back unshed tears, you pull her into your embrace. Your suits clink together but you couldn’t care less.

Instinct has her face resting in the crook of your neck, warm breath fighting the sudden chilly wind. You kiss her neck, just above the retracted metal of her iron suit.

You remain in her embrace for a moment longer, needing the assurance and grounding. After pulling away, you can’t help but smile at the sight of everyone that you’d watched disappear five years ago, plus the additional faces of the people you’d yet to meet.

A nonverbal agreement is made to reconvene to celebrate at a later time, when things have settled, and you all aren’t standing in a crater moments from flooding.

Hand in hand with Natasha, you exit the hole in the ground. 

“Please tell me you’re taking me home.” 

Getting a good look at your wife, you see the adrenaline slipping away and revealing her exhaustion. She’s still incredibly gorgeous behind the thing layer of dirt on her face and minor cuts.

How she managed to get cuts on her face through the mask is unbeknownst to you, but you’re determined to make sure she’s taken care of.

“Hospital first, home second.”

She gives a tired sigh, but agrees nonetheless.

Knowing they may not have anywhere to go, you offer the keys to your lake house to Steve, telling him that they are free to use the place to get clean and rest up.

You don’t leave with Natasha until after she’s said a couple ‘goodbye’s and ‘see you later’s.

******

Taglist: @thelastavenger-3000 @aaron-despair @messuhp@izalesbean @bvb-bk @username23345 @sighsam@confusinggemini612 @natasha-danvers @rileigh519@higherfurther-romanova  @dynnealberto

[askdjphantasmagloria]

Smooth Operator (Rewritten)

So, yeah. I decided to rewrite Smooth Operator because I didn’t like how it was written. Here’s how I think it should’ve played out. I hope you like it!

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

It was dark, cold, and frightful. A lock of red hair whooshes by as a hooded figure rushes through the bushes. They had just had an encounter with a terrifying creature and they were trying to get out of the forest as fast as they could. Little did they know that they would soon stumble upon Queen Poppy and the other TrollsTopians, who were getting ready to play a wonderful round of Glitter Ball.

“Ok, for my team, my third first pick will be... Dante!” Poppy smiled as she pointed towards the Classical ambassador. Honored to be chosen, Dante smiled and bowed to the crowd before floating over to join the queen and the rest of her teammates.

The hooded figure then heard the voices and began to creep closer, their eyes squinting as they tried to remain mysterious. Slowly lifting up their hood, a scarlet red mustache began to appear...

Val Thundershock was also on the Glitter Ball field, assembling her team for the game to come. But then she took notice of the mysterious troll in the shadows and, like always, began to be suspicious. Who was this troll? What did they want? Were they a threat to the society that she and the other ambassadors worked hard to build up? “And my fourth first pick will be... the mysterious figure in the shadows.” She concluded, motioning to the figure. Confused, everybody turned around to look at the stranger that had been eavesdropping on their conversations. Knowing they had been spotted, the troll stepped forward and slowly took off their hood to reveal... my word! It was the seductive siren, the sultry-silked, the devilishly divine god of romance himself... Chaz Deveaux!

Chaz calmly smiled at the crowd, seemingly not alarmed at all by the fact that his cover was just blown by a keenly-eyed Val. Why should he be afraid? He knew what TrollsTopia was all about due to the fliers that Poppy had sent out a few weeks ago. This was finally his chance to find a family! People who would accept him for who he was! No more running, no more hiding, no more drowning in a sea of loneliness and resentment due to his ex-boyfriend dumping him for something that he couldn’t control. It all ended today.

The crowd gasped along with Poppy, who couldn’t believe that one of the bounty hunters whom she had encountered back when Queen Barb had her famous world tour managed to find their way into her beloved city! “Chaz? The Smooth Jazz troll?” She asked, in complete disbelief.

“That’s my name, darling.” Chaz calmly responded, raising an eyebrow in a curious manner. “Why are you so surprised? Was it not you who summoned me with this flier?” He asked, pulling out the piece of paper. Poppy gently took it from his hands, giving it a thorough read before her face lit up with glee. “Oh, you found it! I was worried that we’d have to use one of our scouts to track you down ourselves, but this is way easier! Yes, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. Our city is expanding but I’ve noticed a lack in diversity of music. I was wondering if maybe... you would like to join our entourage? Come live with us in TrollsTopia, Chaz!” Poppy smiled, her eyes sparkling.

Val, extremely confused by Poppy’s optimism, got in between the two of them and looked the pink cupcake-lover in the eye. “Whoa, whoa, WHOA! Poppy, aren’t you going to tell us who this is? Where did he come from, what’s with his hair, and why does he have two tigers following him around?” She asked, motioning to the two tigers that were sitting besides Chaz.

“I am Chaz Deveaux. I’m half-Classical and half-Pop. My hair is naturally like this, but I do make my own conditioners, shampoos, and lotions out of natural ingredients such as Gigglefruit juice and Sparkle Berries. Also, when you say tigers, you mean Saturn and Jupiter? These are my pet tigers. They’re the only thing I have left of my tribe after... the war. Everybody I knew and loved was stolen from me. Everybody who was still alive, died shortly after. I’m the only survivor...” Chaz explained, tears coming to his eyes as he talked about his life story.

“Aww, you poor thing! What an ordeal...” Poppy frowned. She couldn’t believe that any troll would have to go through such a thing. Let alone a guy who was seemingly so sweet and charming on the outside.

“I’m sorry... talking about it gets me all emotional. Yes, I would love to join TrollsTopia. Wherever shall I stay? You didn’t exactly mention a Smooth Jazz section in your poster the last time I checked and while I would love to reside in Classical Crest or just stay with you Pop trolls, none of those areas properly reflect... me. I need something genuine.” Chaz mentioned, brushing a lock of his hair to the side.

“Ah, yes. We don’t really have a place like that at the moment... but thankfully, my ambassadors and I are known for acting on a whim. Give us about an hour, and we’ll surprise you!” Poppy smiled, gathering the ambassadors and leading them away.

One hour later...

Poppy led Chaz along the grassy path as carefully as she could. The former bounty Hunter was blindfolded and as shown from her experience with the Trolls’ piñata festivities, being blindfolded could pose a bit of a threat to everyday life due to the one who’s eyes are being covered losing their sense of sight and therefore not being able to see what they’re doing or where they’re stepping. “A little farther. A little farther! Listen, Chaz, it breaks our hearts that you don’t feel like you belong. So, we’ve been working on a solution! I called up Barb and asked her if we could use that tiny little beach that she was going to give you back when you were hunting us down, and she said yes! If you would just stand right here...” she said, before stretching out her arms to reveal Chaz’s new home. “TADA!”

Chaz opened his eyes and gasped, his face lighting up with nothing but pure joy at the sight of his house. It was gorgeous. A beach condo made entirely out of what seemed to be marble was waiting for him along the beautiful sands of TrollsTopia’s beach. He could see everything, including the ocean stretching over the horizon. Tears began to well up in his eyes. “Poppy... it’s- it’s beautiful. Thank you...” he whispered, smiling softly.

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet! Come on, let’s go inside!” Poppy giggled, opening the door. Once they were inside, Chaz could immediately see the luxury. A grand fireplace with a picture of him mounted over it, a soft and cuddly fur rug that was just perfect for him to swoon somebody over, comfortable plush chairs that came with built-in cup holders for the jazz troll to hold his many cups of grape wine, a grand kitchen for him to prepare his meals with only the finest ingredients (courtesy of Classical Crest), a deluxe bathroom with everything a troll needs to keep themselves tidy, and a bedroom that was all romantic-themed.

“Wow... thank you, Poppy. I know I haven’t exactly been the best to you during Queen Barb’s world tour, but I was only doing what she said because I didn’t want my music to die out! If she didn’t offer that tiny little island, I would have never even helped her in the first place!” Chaz sighed, facepalming.

“Aww, it’s ok, Chaz! You’ll always have a family here. Your days of being alone are over. Bygones are bygones. After all, my people aren’t exactly squeaky clean either. We all have our flaws. Nobody’s perfect.” Poppy comforted Chaz, giving him a hug. As he hugged back though, Poppy began to internally cringe. She didn’t REALLY believe that Chaz had changed from World Tour! How could somebody who used to EAT other trolls change in the blink of an eye?! Surely he had to be faking it!

The next day...

Chaz was a little crushed, but then he shook his head and smiled. “That’s alright... I suppose I could get used to the new paint job. It does look kind of pretty...” he laughed, trying to remain positive about the situation like he always has. He then gasped as he saw his beautiful beach littered with spray cans and other garbage. “AH! My beach...” he frowned, his heart dropping another few feet.

“Sorry, Mr. Chaz. Queen Poppy never implemented a trash disposal system, so we had no choice but to dump all of our things here. I hope you don’t mind.” Priscilla piped up, the children leaving back to their pods. After that whole mess was dealt with, Chaz decided that maybe a trip into town would make him feel better. He waved hello to any trolls that would walk by, but they all seemed... scared of him. Some would nervously wave back while others would scream and run away. He then overheard a few Classical trolls speaking to each other about Chaz’s music. “Have you ever heard anything so repulsive? Smooth jazz... what a disgrace to our genre. It’s barely a step above lounge music!” One of them said.

“Pip pip to that!” Another one agreed. “The way he obsesses over his appearance is... nasty, to put it the nicest.” A techno troll whispered. Chaz couldn’t believe it. Nobody really liked him. They were only pretending to be nice to him because Poppy said so! Now Chaz didn’t feel positive anymore. Why should he? He was in a world where it didn’t matter what he did. Everyone would always see him as a savage.

“Hey, Chaz! Are you enjoying your stay in TrollsTopia?” Poppy asked, completely oblivious to the situation. A new feeling began to bubble up in Chaz’s chest. All he could see was red. He was tired of being mistreated. It was time to fight back. “That’s it... I have had enough... enough of the stupid pranks! Enough of the mockery! AND MOST OF ALL ENOUGH OF YOU, POPPY!” Chaz growled, letting his frustration and anger merge together as his hair began flowing like a siren’s hair would when she was angry. His hair began to move like tentacles, grabbing the trolls that were around him and holding them up against a nearby rock.

“Chaz! What are you doing?!” Poppy asked, squirming in an attempt to get free. “You think I’m an idiot? I know how you guys REALLY feel about me. All I ever wanted was to be accepted. I just wanted to be loved! But you guys keep treating me like garbage... all because of something I can’t control. If you want a monster so badly, then by all that’s Trolly, I’ll be that monster!” He growled, using his hair to thrash the trolls around.

“Yo, yo, yo! I finally found the red velvet blanket, guys! Would you believe this was the last one on the shelf? What a lucky break!” Synth cheered as he walked in. He gasped, dropping his gift as he saw what was going on. “WHAT THE BARNACLES IS GOING ON HERE?!” He yelled, feeling scared and confused. Chaz turned around, smiling evilly. “Another one? No problem. I can take another.” He laughed, before he began to play his saxophone again.

Surprisingly, Synth was not affected whatsoever! “Uh... what?” He asked, tilting his head before leaning in closer to hear Chaz’s music better. But no matter how much Chaz played, Synth was simply too oblivious to be hypnotized! He smiled at him, placing his hands at his hips. “Cool music, bro! Lemme show you how I play now!” He said, a techno beat beginning to play as water shot up from the ground. Synth formed it into a gigantic water orb and shot it at Chaz, trapping the smooth jazz troll in a ball of sick beats. The ball then collapsed, sending Chaz flying into the distance. The smooth jazz troll tried to launch himself back to Synth to land a punch, but the water had made his hair unable to stretch. Saturn and Jupiter, seeing their master rocket into the sky, emerged from their hiding spots to chase after him. Synth had just saved all of TrollsTopia from Chaz’s rage.

As she caught her breath, Poppy engulfed Synth in a huge hug. “SYNTH! Thank goodness! That was amazing, how did you do that?” She asked. Her eyes lighting up with joy. “You mean that giant orb thing? Oh, I was born with those sorts of powers. I wonder why the music had no effect on me...” Synth thought, before Meadow’s shiny new flower caught his attention. “GIRL! You shine like a glowstick! I could stare at you for hours!” He laughed, swimming towards her as Poppy shook her head and smiled.

“Classic Synth...”

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of TrollsTopia, Chaz fell into an area that was surrounded by marshmallow potatoes... Marshtatoes? He groaned, dusting himself off as he looked upwards. A sinister grin illuminated in the dark, an adorably high-pitched voice ringing out in the silence. “Well hello there... what brings a handsome guy like you to a place like this?” It asked.

“Ugh, I’m glad you asked. I just got kicked out by a walking fish stick. Who are you, anyway?” Chaz asked, raising an eyebrow. From the shadows emerged the mistress of mischief herself, Marshtato Mary. “Me? Call me Mary. And you, my devilishly handsome disciple, may just be the key to helping me get my revenge on those filthy little elves.” She smiled.

“Revenge, you say? Well then...” Chaz smirked, walking closer to her.

“I’d love to join your cause.”

The End

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

[archivedatl]

Old Blogs

Howdy. I’ve noticed some concern over the loss of my old blogs here n’ there so I decided to post all of them in one large, comprehensive blog-a-verse. Hope this brings a smile to a few faces. Our Street Corners Keep Secrets This is me asking for a brick to be thrown through my window,
a message attached that reads, "Why can’t you just wake up?"
I am not a star,
don’t look up to me in hopes of finding something more.
That which is out of reach does not promise anyone a goddamn thing.
Hope arises in possibility,
but possiblity is fragmented and selfish,
so don’t think for a second that I am safe ground to walk on.
I will sink beneath the feet of a thousand travelling companions,
and make ruin of any city’s foundations,
because concrete and steel can never tell a soul how it feels.
Our street corners keep secrets, and our road signs only suggest,
never deciding for us,
never knowing if the destination to which they lead,
is where we truely belong.
Life’s greatest tragedy is not that it will some day end,
but that most of us just live to follow directions,
and many times we end up totally lost. I am a landmine. Sometimes I break down so hard you can hear it, and when I can stand to come near it with means to repair, the chances of walking out unscathed are slim to none.
I know because I’m one; a victim of second-hand breakdowns and bad impressions, made under intoxicated conditions with poorly lit expressions. And I regret not going back, I regret not missing flights, I regret not asking for more and taking chances that I can only hope will not be forgotten. My fingers are crossed.

I-O-U.

Now my telephone’s dead and I can’t stand to hold out like this, but I’m constantly checking myself so as not to be a burden. Anything too heavy eventually gets dropped, no matter the cost. Let me be light as a feather, but valued enough so as to remain in a back pocket, until those jeans need washing and I find my place on a bedside table, to be read aloud on nights when memories and prying needs return to haunt the foundations of this room.

Pick me up,
Read me every now and then,
I won’t disappoint.
*I am* witty and engaging so bless me with attention, because I’m *dying* for attention *without* any means of telling *you*. I’ll talk the talk, you take care of the rest. What up thugs?

I’m alive and well, realizing how eternally grateful I am for everything going on in my life day by day... Its a lot like learning to walk - at least, that’s how I’d like to think of it. We’ve all been there, so I won’t waste your time painting a pretty picture of how it all goes down...
I want to talk about other things...
First and foremost, I’ve come to understand that as of late there have been a lot of people finding this little piece of my life tucked away on the web; moreso than usual, and for that reason, I’d like to extend my proverbial hand to anyone and everyone who may have something - anything to say to me. Thank you for taking an interest in who I am and what I’m attempting to do with my life. I am opening myself up, as much as possible, to anyone who may be interested. All I ask is that whoever you may be, wherever you may be, understand that I am only human - two hands, ten fingers, and a life... I’ve received a few messages from people, upset that I haven’t been able to respond to their previous comments or private messages, and who now probably think less of me for it. I hope this isn’t the case, but its bound to happen. What I’m saying is that I don’t live my life on the internet... I’m sorry if there’s a message I never got around to responding to... I’m just not that good at keeping up with reality, let alone a virtual one. I will, however, try harder from now on... And understand that even if I don’t respond, I probably have read your message. I don’t just clear my inbox and move on. Thats plain rude. :)

To all my good friends,
the ones I should talk to more often,
the ones I left back home,
the ones I will never stop loving,
thank you for still hugging me when I come home...
I know I don’t always show it,
but I’m forever indebted to you all for everything you’ve ever done for me...

That brings me to my second point.
The closest friends you’ll ever have are the ones you’d take a bullet for,
but they’re the ones you constantly feel you could put a bullet in as well. ;)

Think about that one.

That’s it for now. I can’t believe I’m up at 5:14am. Touring has made me an insomniac, but I feel fucking great.

Have a good one y’all,

Me Lawyers and Liars I am a liar.
I am self absorbed.
I am in this for me.
I am seeking recognition.
I am not concerned with politics.
I am attempting to rise to the top.
I am never going to forget my intentions.
I am allowed to worry about my own life above the lives of others.

-------AFTER ALL---------

I am human. Part Deux: Colors, Sounds and Feather-Downs 
Current mood: happy I had a long, goofy conversation several weeks ago with an interesting girl who I haven’t seen since, in a diner I have yet to revisit, but it stirred up some thoughts that I found pretty interesting. Maybe I’m just nuts. Anyhow, the discussion began on a simple basis; I inquired as to what her favorite color might be. She said she didn’t know. I replied, "How can you not know? Its a simple question." -- She paused, looking sort of surprised, as if someone had never pressed her for an answer before, and then replied, "Well... It changes... Today its yellow."

I didn’t know what to say...
I didn’t understand.

How can your favorite color just change?
What happened to yesterday’s favorite color?
If, on a whim, something of such esteem and value can be replaced with another, then on what grounds was it ever of any more value to begin with?
When I was little, my favorite color was green. It stayed that way, no matter what I said to be trendy at the time (IE. 8th grade was my "black is such a raw and expressive pigment" phase, but everyone goes through that shit.) As of late, I’ve become more partial to blue - Light blue in particular, but that’s not that important. My point is that something happened that caused me to send green packing, and to fall absolutely head-over-heels for blue.
(Stay with me on this...)
Now, such a dramatic change in attraction doesn’t just happen - I mean shit, I know we’re only talking about colors here, but this kind of switch-a-roo has only happened ONCE in my entire life. Green ---> Blue. Just like that. Must mean somthing, right?
Pablo Picasso went through a "blue period", at which time he was broke and mourning the loss of a dear friend. There’s a similarity there somewhere.
Please don’t get me wrong, I am by no means depressed, nor do I have any reason to be, but perhaps color - every, individual hue, represents to each of us a state of being, and in turn, helps us to deal with whatever it is we may be going through. I’m not talking mood-ring shit here. What I mean is that there are things - simple things - that without our knowing, mean the world to us and when they change, they change for our own good, because whether we like it or not, we are looking out for ourselves. We do it unconsciously - But we do it. We do it to stay happy and to stay alive... And above all else, that’s what matters.
On this note, I’d like to attempt to make my point - Don’t throw yourself out on another’s whim. People change, as do intentions and as a result, consequences. Live for yourself - love those around you, but realize that they’ve got their own agendas. People will screw you - You will screw people... Green ---> Blue. Get it? I’m not sure I do... Always consider that your life will venture in new directions, but be aware that other’s will do the same, and in accordance, understand that to be happy, people must exist in their own light, cast in and of themselves, not by the light of their peers. Conflict will arise because of this. Conflict is to be expected; conflict is a part of life. Find ways to work through conflict, even if it means picking a new favorite color...


I hope this makes a little sense.


I’m tired and rambling, and perhaps just a misguided fool, but I think there’s something in this - something that I am learning and accepting as my fingers punch these keys to an inviting, hypnotic rhythm. I feel like they’re leading me somewhere, and I’ve decided to follow.

____I’m going to bed. Take from this what you will.

Love,

Alexander William Gaskarth

*I feel fine* The first of many, I hope. 
Current mood: happy So I’ve decided to spill it; the beans, the juice, my guts... Whatever you want to call it, consider it spilled. Up to this point, I feel like I’ve done an excellent job of keeping just about everything true about myself, to myself... and for good reason - what people don’t know, people can’t use against you. I guess that’s my first confession. I fucking despise the way people operate. The way people go out of their way to find things out, only to throw them senselessly (BLINDLY) into conversation later. I don’t know if its intentional, (I guess that sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t,) but frankly, it gets to me. Its the same kind of prying aggravation I feel when someone starts moving shit around in my car, or on my computer table. Stop putting hills in my rugs! Please. Call me OCD but if I put something somewhere, chances are, I wanted it there and it should remain that way. Its the same for anyone else. Let one’s own business remain that way. Anyway. I’ve fallen into a depression lately - not emotionally per say, but I feel like my ability to open up to people has peaked over the past two years. I used to be so ready to say anything, without caring how it affected me, but recently I’ve become so protective of myself, not because I’m afraid of getting hurt by others, but because I might make myself look bad. It’s disgusting. I never used to be so self-absorbed. Its like in every situation, I’m wearing a mask... Not just one mask, in fact, but many masks; Masks to hide masks between people - to hide certain sides of myself from those who disapprove where others don’t. I try so hard to win the approval of everyone. Why? Fucked if I know. I just love being the center of attention I guess. And all this time I thought myself to be humble. No sir. But then, who really is humble? Everyone wants to be loved, right? So am I wrong in looking out for my own well being? Who knows? It makes me sick to my stomach, regardless. I’ve unknowingly stumbled across so many insecurities lately that I feel like a different person at times. It’s like I’ve been born all over again, to a world where I have to carry myself differently. I’m still opinionated, I’m still eagerly in search of answers, but my motives have changed. I do it for myself now; for the praise and admiration I earn as a result of my actions, not for the simple pleasure found in just "doing it". Maybe its all just part of growing up, as they say. Maturing... You know? But does it continue to change? Will I stop acting like such an asshole? Who knows. It worries me. I don’t want to be like this, but its who I’ve become... What’s worse is that I don’t know who or what to blame for the transformation. That would be too easy, right? I digress. I’ve got a lot of things on my plate. My dreams are coming true right before my very eyes - I have a band - We’re going somewhere - This time next year I hope I’m far, far away from this place. I want to see Japan. I’ve wanted to see Japan for a while now; call it a calling. Haha. I don’t know what I want when I get there - I don’t even like the hustle of big cities for too long. Gives me a headache. But there’s something about it. I’ll see it soon enough. The repetition of every day life kills. It ruins the flow of my creative juices. No joke. On days that I sleep in, I go to bed feeling exhausted, and yet, I never sleep on the weekends, when I should want rest. I don’t. It would be a waste of freedom. Why spend time on parole in seclusion, you know? I’m only tired on weekdays - only when I know I have to drag myself out of my fucking room to take a shower and go to school, and then to work. Maybe I’m not tired. Maybe it’s just a natural defense against running myself into the ground with routine. I feel pale, and sick, and run down... For no reason. I eat right. I see the light of day. I breathe fresh air all the time. I love the outdoors. Shit. I love my life. But between Monday and Thursday I feel so transient... My head isn’t in the clouds - My feet aren’t on the ground. Where am I? I don’t know, but frankly, it sucks. I have some good friends. We get hammered sometimes and forget about everything. The occasional dramatic scene is worth it. People naturally don’t get along with one another. It’s all a matter of how tolerant people are. I have some tolerant friends. In turn, I think I put up with my share of bullshit. It’s like a cycle of tough loving. But it works. It keeps me sane. In the end I think we really do love each other. Awww. I also like to kiss people. It gets me into trouble sometimes. Whatever. Certain individuals need to stop looking for love in the wrong places. --I can’t talk. --I’ve found love in the worst places. --Its not an easy thing to deal with. --Doesn’t change the way I feel about them. --Its ok. --As long as I’m happy. There I go being selfish again. ___I’m done confessing for now. Take from this what you will. Love, Alexander William Gaskarth *I feel better.*

[real-jaune-isms]

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 10 Review/Remix

WHAT the ever loving FUCK was that just now RT?? You give us several great answers and scenes we really wanted to see, and then rip all that joy away in the last 3 minutes!!! I want to sue for emotional damages, but I really can’t be mad cuz it’s very masterful writing on their part. After years of shows doing redemption arcs we finally have it... the bastardization arc~

We open, perhaps to the disappointment of some, on Ironwood staring out the windows of his office at the battlefield and city in turmoil below. He’s being given a situation update on the destruction of the cellblock two episodes back, and he takes the news a little differently than might have been expected (read: worse). Jacques apparently stayed right where he was and let himself be put back into custody, while Qrow avoided much harm by being a bird and ending up in a spot where the rubble wasn’t landing directly on him. Robyn was only slightly lucky, she was under some large debris but doesn’t seem terribly hurt and is actually conscious when Atlas soldiers uncover her and say she’ll be moved to a new cell elsewhere. Qrow isn’t about to be put back in a cage though, and flies right at the soldier who finds him. Behind a conveniently placed piece of wall he turns back and, as I was somewhat praised for phrasing it in a discord chat, he tackled that man as a man. We can assume he knocks out the guy about to apprehend Robyn, and the two make a getaway. Ironwood doesn’t like this news one bit, though he focuses more on recapturing the two huntsmen he had arrested on paranoid treason charges than the actual war criminal he lost an arm catching whose dangerous work on the city of Mantle still hasn’t been undone. Not cool, dude. He yells at the soldiers who had come to report this, and they leave to try and find the jailbirds. He stares out the window again in contemplation and tries to calm down a little before turning on his earpiece to get an update on the status of some thing or another, probably the bomb, when something massive happens.

With a blinding flash and an array of gold and green, Oscar’s staff goes off with whatever he was charging up. It’s as bright and forceful as you’d expect a nuclear bomb to be, and it knocks Winter and the Ace Ops off their feet as they were heading towards Monstra lugging their own bomb. Weiss and Nora see it from Schnee Manor, and it seems to do a real number on the Grimm around Monstra and in the city. Rooster Teeth had to give a flashing lights warning at the start of the episode for those it would adversely affect, and I can totally understand why after the crazy display this gave us. When the light fades and the noise settles, Monstra has been snapped and is fading away to dust, and in that dust cloud we hear and barely see Neopolitan skipping away with the Lamp in hand. What a little punk... Winter gets back on her feet and is quick to ask her squad for their status, she doesn’t want to have lost anyone or suffered serious wounds from whatever the hell they just saw/felt. No one is hurt, though Elm’s ears seem to still be ringing. But Marrow is very distressed, realizing they still hadn’t heard back from Jaune and the others and they may have been killed in that blast. Nobody has anything to say that would appease him, so they stay silent. Vine tries to put a reassuring hand on Elm’s shoulder but she brushes him off. Guess after they got called out by Ren she wants to show even less emotion and sentimentality than before. Ironwood contacts them under the false assumption this was the result of their bomb, and requests they return to HQ for an update on the new problem he wants to deal with. Marrow naturally points out that the destruction wasn’t their doing, and Winter decides that will be news best delivered in person, so they load the bomb back on the airship and take off. 

Cutting into the city, we see Watts and Cinder viewing the destruction of their mobile HQ from a distance. Nobody is returning Cinder’s calls but they know Salem will be back so Watts suggests they come up with a plan in the meantime. But Cinder is fully confident that they can still do what they originally intended, that being having her kill Penny and take the Winter Maiden powers after Watts brings the synthezoid to her. But this was a plan made under false assumptions, because apparently she misunderstood the terminology in his message and thought he could puppeteer Penny to go wherever he demands when really he just laid a new prime directive to send her straight to the Vault as we saw two episodes back. Hearing this pisses Cinder off immensely, especially the part about Penny being set to self destruct as soon as the Vault is open since that means the next recipient of the powers will be randomized again and she’ll have lost her chance to yoink them. Watts is too busy grumpily musing to himself about Penny having free will and a spirit that doesn’t want to succumb to his leet hacks to notice Cinder growing more and more enraged, until he turns around and she pulls him in close to yell at him. But Watts is having none of that, he works for Salem not her, and his plans weren’t made to give this flaming whining goth what she wants every single time. He’s just supposed to get the Vault open for Salem, and this is how he’s doing that. This is not the kind of answer Cinder wanted to hear, and she stretches her arm out to shove Watts to the edge of the roof and leave him on the verge of falling over to his demise. He doesn’t seem terribly fazed, calling her bluff and saying her mission was to bring him back and Salem won’t be a bit pleased if he dies. But you know what Salem is not? Here right now to stop Cinder from dealing with this arrogant self righteous prick once and for all. So she fully intends to drop him and then tear up Atlas on a fiery path to the Vault where she can intercept Penny and steal the Winter powers before tearing her to pieces herself and being the triumphant follower getting everything done that Salem really needed. And Watts just... laughs. Chris Sabat must have had a great time in the VO booth for this one, because he gets to have an absolute roast session the likes of which he hasn’t delivered since Majin Vegeta tore that clown Kakarot a new one. Naturally Cinder’s plan would be to brute force her way to victory and get glory for none but herself with her every whim satisfied along the way. Because that’s always her plan. And it always fails. She tried to storm Fria’s hospital room like that and got her ass handed to her by some teenagers and a dying woman before Penny took the powers before she could. She did the same damn thing 2 Volumes ago when she tried to massacre all her enemies under one roof in an alliance with a woman she thought she could outwit, but ended up blindsided by a surprise Maiden reveal and almost died while her outnumbered forces were on the verge of surrendering without her. And did anyone warn her not to do that? YES! WATTS DID!!! WATTS IS ALWAYS RIGHT, YOU FOOL!!! Well, okay, he’s really not. But he’s more clever and meticulous so he saw the flaws her arrogance left her blind to. And then Watts really tears into her by saying she isn’t smart, she isn’t worthy, and she isn’t entitled to what she wants because she’s suffered in the past. The one thing she is is a goddamn migraine. I’m a little mad Tyrian stole the show’s first cuss 4 years back cuz I really would have liked for Watts to cap this off by calling Cinder a bitch. This roasting literally lights a fire under Cinder and she seems ready to snap and kill Watts here and now, but instead she pulls him back onto the roof and stares off blankly into space before her fire fades and she walks off to sit on the ledge of a different side of the building to really think about his harsh words and shed a single tear. It’s a little unclear if she’s just feeling sorry for herself and realizing she’s more of a failure than she wanted to admit, or if she’s just overwhelmed by Watts reminding her of her childhood trauma. Maybe she’s realizing how powerless she’s truly remained all this time after fighting so hard for her own freedom and independence, and crying at the fact that she seems unable to escape that role she hates so much. Whatever the case, it’s real rough for her but I don’t feel like shedding any of my own tears for her sake. She doesn’t seem like she’s gonna change her allegiances so I don’t feel much need to cheer for her, but maybe she’ll reevaluate her strategy and become a force to be reckoned with as a villain because of this. I wouldn’t mind that. We’ll have to wait and see.

Back in the ruins of Monstra, we see Yang Ren and Jaune are all doing alright, and Oscar seems to be as well. Jaune is using his Semblance to help Oscar heal up quicker so that’s good to see too. Yang answers a call and sees Blake anxiously hoping she’ll pick up. The biggest smile comes to her face when she does, and the two halves of the group are ecstatic to hear the other is still alive and well. Neither are quite ready to tell the full tale of what they’ve been up to, but Weiss pulls up a map of the city and lays out a safe route through the subway tunnels that will take OYRJ straight to the mansion so they can actually reunite. Oscar isn’t about to leave Emerald behind though, and we see her knelt in the chaos holding out her hands as if hoping to catch some of the dust that was once her father figure. Yang is vocally against the idea of bringing Emerald with them, but Oscar advocates for her being every bit against Salem as them so the enemy of their enemy should be their friend. Emerald actually doesn’t seem to want to keep hanging around them and says they should just part ways, but Jaune isn’t about to let her walk free without facing any kind of justice for her past crimes. Ren thinks they need to be able to see past their emotional hang ups and consider the value in having her as an ally, and Yang is quick to remind them all that Emerald is part of the reason she lost her arm. Technically that is true, Adam was working with Cinder and if Yang hadn’t been framed as a brutal criminal she would have been around the rest of the team when everything popped off so maybe that first fight would have gone differently. But I do feel like it’s a bit of a stretch. Yang keeps going about why she can’t just forgive and forget when Em had been such a snake in the grass back at Beacon, but that’s not what Oscar is asking of her. He just wants her to try and give the girl a second chance to be better. He gets a little cryptic about how they’ve already gotten help from someone they haven’t had the best track record trusting, and Ren perfectly guesses he means that Oz has reemerged in his mind. This takes the blondes by surprise, and Oscar stands up for the old soul by saying he took the brunt of the beatings and told him how to impede Salem like he did just there. Turns out we’ll be finding out the secret of Ozpin’s cane today: It’s been made into a magical repository for kinetic energy stored over dozens of past lives to be made into a sort of bomb to set off when needed. I don’t know quite enough about physics to describe how exactly that would work, but it seems to make sense that it does. But the blast that took out Monstra used up the majority of what was in there so he can’t rely on it for that kind of attack again. It seems likely that was what Ozpin used against Cinder in the Beacon Vault, but didn’t use very much of it, and again what Oscar used to bust a hole in the bottom of the pit Ironwood shot him into. Oscar finishes making his case that Oz really does want to aid them, and the others seem convinced. What’s worth noting is that all eyes had been on him during this, but Emerald made no attempt to run away or even lower her hands. Guess she might really want to stick around after all... The moment is interrupted by the not so distant sound of a crying baby, and they all run further down the tunnel to find a subway station where the people of Atlas are taking shelter on Ironwood’s orders. Emerald starts to feel the weight of her action and those she used to side with, especially when she sees kids scared and hungry like she was before Cinder found her. They continue past the station on their way to the manor, and Oscar offers some encouragement to Emerald that they need her help in this war considering what she’s capable of. Considering the feats she performed under stress back in Volume 5, I’m inclined to agree. 

We fade away from that scene to Ironwood’s office and the camera rises up the stairs as if being held by the Ace Ops as they and Winter come through the still broken doors to give their report to the general. He’s looking at multiple holographic screens projecting from his table: one with graphics telling him the status of all the airships mechs and soldiers, one pulling up news articles and any other info they can get on Monstra presumably for the purpose of cataloguing it in case they ever need to worry about another one, the third seems to be a map of city to monitor the damage so far, and the last is all the info they have on Cinder. He congratulates the team for their work destroying the Grimm, but Winter admits it wasn’t their bomb that did the job, they still have it intact for him. This confuses Ironwood greatly, but he sees an opportunity in this twist of fate. Penny hasn’t come to the Vault like he wanted her to be programmed to do, so he assumes Watts did a shit job of reprogramming her or just intentionally screwed them over. Yet the truth is something he can’t seem to imagine, she has free will and doesn’t want to do as she’s told. Who’s the real tool now Jimmy? He informs them that Cinder broke Watts out, and he seems to consider Qrow and Robyn escaping to be an even worse consequence. Harriet seems ready to sprint out of the room and haul them back here herself, but Ironwood stays her hand... or foot in this case. With Salem temporarily halted, now is the best time they’ve got for him to have the Winter Maiden open the Vault and use the Staff to lift Atlas higher than she can reach like he wanted so badly. So he wants Winter to bring him Yang Jaune and Ren. Winter doesn’t see the purpose of that, or she does and hates to imagine it’s truly what he intends, but either way she knows she can’t do what he’s asking. He plans to make full use of the lives they hold in their hands, and he’s going to use Jaune and the others as leverage to make Penny do what he says. He acts as if he’s actually proud of himself for realizing this is an option available to him, and I think it’s his Semblance that’s partially blinding him to the moral reasons why it should not be an option worth considering. Winter is left wilting under his unaware and proud gaze, and then Harriet pipes up to tattle on her commanding officer. Winter gave the kids a chance to try and rescue their friends from inside the whale(they don’t mention that friend was Oscar so he still doesn’t know the kid survived his attempted murder), and they weren’t seen exiting before it blew up. I want to say I’m shocked and disgusted that Harriet snitched on Winter just for the brownie points of being honest and taking Winter down a peg, but I’m really not. She’s been a loyal bootlicker since this time last Volume, and this feels like payback for that whole “I outrank you so you can’t stop me from giving them a chance” thing in chapter 7. Ironwood removes the proud and probably intended to be comforting hand he had placed on Winter’s shoulder, as if ashamed to be touching her after she let him down like this. This was his last plan for his definition of success, and now it’s ruined so he can’t do anything. In a fit of rage he smashes his table like the goddamn Hulk and the Ace Ops are left to watch and wonder just how in his right mind he actually is. As he tries to catch his breath, the general gets an urgent transmission that dozens of non-military aircraft have shown up on radar. I and probably a few dozen other people watching this hoped this was an Avengers Endgame moment of tons of allies coming to the rescue of the down and out heroes. But no, its the Schnee Dust Company ships Whitley sent out. Almost forgot about that plan, whoops. Ironwood immediately recognizes this as Weiss’ handiwork for the sake of saving Mantle, because nobody would have guessed Whitley would show some humanity and make this plan himself. Winter immediately shows attentive concern hearing her sister has done this, and Harriet gives her a look as if to say “you are such a bleeding heart for these little criminals...” Ironwood makes the very one dimensional assumption that everything Ruby and the others have been doing is simply to protect Mantle, as if they didn’t have a serious conversation with May about helping Atlas as well as Mantle 3 episodes back. With that knowledge in mind, he decides he needs to make a call. 

Speaking of phones, Cinder gets a cheeky text and an accompanying selfie from Neo revealing she has the Lamp and she knows Salem will tear Cinder to pieces if she doesn’t bring it back to her. So she’s proposing a trade; Cinder gets the name to activate the Lamp, and in return she has to bring Neo to Ruby for the revenge she so deeply craves. Watts can’t see Cinder’s screen so he wonders who among their comrades has survived. Unclear if Cinder is going to tell him.

At last, we see Ruby throw open the front doors of Schnee Manor with Weiss and Blake flanking her, to see Yang and the others on the front steps. The sisters immediately embrace and Ruby sheds a tear of relief and joy that they’re all okay. Yang tells her she missed her too, and that seems to be that for the distrust and argument they had back in chapter 1. Ruby goes to greet the guys, and Yang gives Weiss a nice hug too. Then she sees Blake has taken a few steps away from the group and seems ashamed or embarrassed, unable to even look in their direction in Yang’s direction. Yang puts a hand to her cheek, her thumb softly stroking up and down as she turns Blake’s head to meet her gays gaze. Yang blushes and smiles, Bake returns the smile, and the two softly press their foreheads together. The intense sapphic energy of this deeply intimate moment was almost overwhelming, and many couldn’t help but adore it. I know I couldn’t stop myself from being a little giggly. Ren notices Nora isn’t there to greet them, and Weiss seems like she’s going to bring him up to her room and possibly even explain what happened along the way. Ruby takes this chance to go and greet Oscar with a hug, but stops short when she sees Emerald behind him. She seems real mad and is about to go on the attack, but Oscar steps between them and insists he can vouch for her, or maybe he’s saying he can explain? We don’t quite know because they get cut off by the sound of Ruby’s Scroll ringing. May is calling from the crater to say that the SDC freighters aren’t the only thing in the air right now, and she seems very panicked by what she sees. She yells for everyone to run into the mines for shelter, and an explosion is hear before the call is cut short. Before anyone has time to try and puzzle out what they just heard, a loud alarm tone goes off on all their Scrolls. It’s a fun detail that as a Faunus Blake covers her ears cuz the loud noise is especially bad for her. An emergency CCT broadcast is coming in for everyone in the kingdom, and Ruby magnifies her Scroll’s playing of it to be projected into the air for all of them to watch. The cargo ships are shown being shot down by military ships, and then the feed cuts to Ironwood standing ominously under a single light to deliver a downright villainous speech. He claims he has been trying his best to protect the technology and future of the kingdom from those who would do it harm, but I think it is VERY telling he never mentions protecting the people. Because that’s not what matters to him anymore. Not really. He says the only person stopping him from finishing his plans of making sure the currently crippled Salem can’t hurt them anymore is Penny. So he has an ultimatum for Penny and her friends, because he knows they will be listening right now. Either she turn herself over to him so he can have her do her “duty” and save as much of the Kingdom as possible and forget about trying to save Mantle, or he will nuke Mantle as punishment for her selfishness. The more he talks the more angry Ruby and the others get, and we are right there with them. He somehow thinks that if Mantle is destroyed then Penny will be free to only care about Atlas and its protection and will gladly work with him to do so. What a delusional bastard. And if anyone tries anything other than what he has said to do, he will use the bomb. 1 hour to decide how they will respond, and a hell of a lot riding on that choice.

There can be absolutely no question now, Ironwood will be the villain for the rest of the Volume and Salem will probably return at the end to ruin whatever hope putting him down will have raised in our heroes... And I’m kinda excited for how that’s gonna play out. Let’s see how team RWBY get out of this one~

[just-an-angel-and-his-demon]

“You never even went to school for anything!” Aziraphale said. “What has made you suddenly want to be a teacher? A choir teacher of everything.” Crowley shrugged.

“I really don’t know, angel,” Crowley said. “I just feel as though my talents could be used elsewhere.”

“And you feel as though ‘elsewhere’ is in a classroom?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded. Aziraphale sighed. “Well alright. You do, after all, know what is best for you. Why choir though?” Aziraphale asked. “There are a number of other classes you might be better suited for. You’ve never even had a music lesson!” Crowley smiled.

“Have too,” he replied triumphantly. “I actually have quite a deep understanding of music, if you must know. I learned piano from Mozart.”

“I didn’t know he gave lessons?” Aziraphale said, more of a question than a statement.

“Well, it took a bit of a demonic intervention for it to happen, but it happened.” Aziraphale shrugged.

“Oh well,” he said. “And you’ve been hiding this from me?” Crowley shrugged.

“Never seemed relevant,” came his reply. “How far away are you willing to go?”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Aziraphale asked.

“For my schooling!” Crowley said. “I’m trying to find a good university for this sort of thing, but I don’t want to go too far away from you.” Aziraphale blushed.

“Ah, yes, well . . . “ Aziraphale looked around the room. He was quite settled in his bookshop. Being in one place for a number of years tended to do that to a person. Perhaps he was a little too settled. He quite liked the bookshop though. He shook his head. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere any time soon,” Aziraphale said. “I quite like my shop. But don’t you worry about me when it comes to chasing this fantasy of yours. We will come out on the other side, you can go wherever you would like. I am not one to discourage an education!” Crowley clicked off the website he was on and looked at Aziraphale.

“Of course I am going to pick around you. I don’t want to leave you for four years,” Crowley said. “I couldn’t very well do that. Besides, you will make a good study partner.” Aziraphale smiled, unable to hide the fact that he was grateful that Crowley didn’t want to leave him.

***

At first, school had been a struggle for Crowley. As Aziraphale had pointed out to him, he’d never been to school. Never had to study for anything in his life. Never had to be anywhere at a specific time that he hadn’t had a hand in deciding. He very nearly failed his first semester simply due to dilly dallying and being unable to focus in some of his classes.

However, when it came time for his finals, Aziraphale helped him to try out various study methods and learned what worked. Aziraphale insisted on helping Crowley wherever he could, with mutterings that sometimes humans expected too much of themselves. Crowley was able to pull himself out of having a failing grade, surprising all of his professors. By the end of the second semester, Crowley had somehow pulled so far ahead that he was setting the curve for all of his classes. Even Aziraphale hadn’t expected that to be the outcome, but he was pleasantly surprised.

The years passed and Crowley became as well versed in music as a person who had been learning from a very young age. Though, if what Crowley had said about the Mozart piano lessons was true (Aziraphale didn’t think it was, though Crowley’s piano skill had to have come from somewhere), he had been learning music for much longer than anyone else. He was just more out of practice than any of his peers in his classes.

Eventually it came time for his graduation. With being on top of his class, he had a number of job offers all over the country of schools who wanted him. He just had to take his pick. Aziraphale decided that he would let Crowley have full control over where they ended up and that he would shut down the bookshop in order for Crowley to chase this little whim of his. When Aziraphale said this, Crowley surprised him by saying that he wanted to teach in America.

Aziraphale was nothing but supportive, however. He thought it strange that Crowley wanted to leave the country they had made their base since the dawn of England, but he was happy to make the necessary changes. So the pair packed up their most important belongings and headed to the states in order to let Crowley take his little teaching whim as far as he wanted it to go.

They ended up in a very small town in the middle of some Midwestern state that Aziraphale didn’t much care to know the name of. They were all so similar and part of the same country, so he really didn’t think that it mattered all that very much. Crowley had gotten the job, unopposed. Perhaps a little intervention had had something to do with it, but he would never tell.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said the night before his first day.

“Hm?” Aziraphale asked, half asleep.

“What if they don’t like me? What if this was all a big mistake?” Aziraphale yawned.

“Well, you’re a demon, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. “It isn’t much like we can’t just go start back over in England. Or even somewhere here if that’s what you’d prefer.” He grabbed Crowley’s hand and used his other to rub his eyes. “But you will do just fine.” Aziraphale said. He yawned again. “Now it has been quite some time since I’ve had a good sleep, so if you don’t mind-” Crowley nodded and shut his beside light off and settled himself under the blanket.

Why did he much care about what these humans thought anyway? He was a demon after all. His bosses down in Hell were more terrifying than anyone else. Which is why he’d wanted to take up this job in the first place. He hadn’t been securing nearly as many souls as he had in years past, this he knew. And he figured what better way to get access to a wide range of people than to become a teacher? Every year he would get new students to tempt and corrupt. Plus he knew that everyone in band or choir was part of a sort of cult anyway. Why not add some demonic influence into the mix?

***

The next morning he woke up early. He felt well rested and not at all tired, but that was to be expected. He was a demon. Demons didn’t actually need to sleep at all (which had provided him with extra study time during his time at uni. This is also part of the reason why he was able to pull through and do so well in his classes).

He miracled himself to look nice. Not a hair out of place, clothes perfectly pressed. And, of course, a pair of glasses. Not that he needed them to see, but it would be easier to put influence to a pair of glasses to mask his eyes than it would be his eyes themselves. Aziraphale would be quite proud of how he looked right then. The angel, however, was still asleep. He would have to wait to see his demon until after the work hours ended.

Crowley almost laughed at that. What was he doing? He was a demon. He didn’t need a day job. He didn’t need a job at all. It’s not like he needed money for anything. He could just miracle or whatever anything he wanted or needed. It was one of the perks of being an ethereal being. Never having to pay for anything but still living whatever life you wanted to live. It was quite nice.

Right before leaving, Crowley planted a soft kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead. Aziraphale smiled though Crowley knew he was still sound asleep. He would be for a number of hours. Once the angel actually slept, he could be gone for a week without a problem. In fact, the angel sometimes had a hard time controlling himself when it came to sleep.

Once Crowley made it to the school, he made his way to the classroom that was now his. He’d been here a few times before during the teacher work days that had come before the start of the school year. This had allowed him to get to know the music library that they currently had and put a few personal touches to the room.

He hadn’t expected any students to come in before class started. Why would students want to spend their morning in a classroom before classes actually started. However, he was wrong. A number of students were wandering the music hall before the first bell.

“Oh! You must be our new teacher,” a girl said after walking in and placing her stuff on a chair. She hummed trying to think of his name, but she couldn’t think of it. “I’m Rachel, by the way,” she said.

“Anth- Mr. Crowley,” Crowley said. “But you can just call me Crowley.” Rachel cocked her head.

“You aren’t what I expected,” She said. Crowley didn’t know how to take that. “I mean, you don’t look like a teacher.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Crowley asked. The girl shrugged.

“This is going to be a learning experience for us all.” The first bell rang. Rachel smiled. “Well it was nice to meet you, Mr. Crowley,” She said as she picked up her things. “See you third period.” Crowley relaxed into his chair. That was quite alright with him. The principal had said something about his first period being open. But that just allowed him to settle in and get everything set up that he had planned for the day.

The first day went just about as well as Crowley could have hoped it would have. The students were . . . well . . . human teenagers. They seemed to be ok with Crowley though. For now at least. He could live with the for now.

When he arrived at home, he found that Aziraphale had made him a nice dinner and was playing some of their favorite music. Crowley filled Aziraphale in on the day, how much he actually enjoyed the students and the other teachers. How he’d already made friends with the band teacher, Miss King, who was doing her best to make Crowley feel welcome in the new school. She was even giving him advice on some of the . . . tougher students.

Of course, as it goes with any new thing, Crowley struggled with the fundamentals of teaching at first. By the first concert, however, he got it figured out. All the while, he had a stronger and stronger bond with the students. His morning crew grew to be even bigger than the crew who stuck to the band room, which he took as a compliment. He was excited to be having nice talks with students.

He even came to have a few very distinct memories that he would likely never forget.

***

It was a usual morning, he didn’t expect anything unusual. Everything was going smoothly. His morning crew had filled him in on the most recent gossip (which he didn’t care much for in and of itself, but it allowed him to plant the seeds that would secure the souls for Satan), as per usual. Nothing at all out of the ordinary.

However, at the start of class, a horrible smell assaulted his nose. It was the worst thing he had ever smelled in all his time on Earth, and he had been in London before indoor plumbing had been invented. It was so bad, in fact, that it completely derailed class.

“What the hell is that?” He exclaimed. The freshmen, who weren’t yet used to hearing teachers cuss, giggled. Everyone else either held their noses, were looking for the source, or both. Crowley followed his nose to the back of the classroom where he ended up finding a carton of milk that had exploded all over the trophies. “This is-” Crowley shook his head. “Who thought to do this? Who left a carton of milk in here?” He shook his head again. “Go- that is just awful.” The smell was starting to make his eyes water. “Alright, you know what, we are going to the auditorium and I will be calling for the janitor.

They ended up spending the rest of class in the auditorium because the smell didn’t quite go away, even after the janitor had cleaned it up. Crowley popped in to open the door to let the smell drift its way out of the room. He didn’t know what he would be doing, but he knew he’d be spending the afternoon trying to take care of that awful smell.

***

“Now children,” Crowley said sternly, “You can’t just go around doing that salute.” The salute he was refering to was the Nazi salute. His students had decided that it would be a fun game to do it during class, especially during warmups. Of course, none of the students took Crowley seriously. Crowley wasn’t even taking himself seriously. He very well knew what happened to people who used the salute, and it was going to help him earn points down with his bosses that actually mattered down in Hell.

Eventually, the salute evolved into a full room of high school students who had for some reason become obsessed with communism. In particular, the boys, but there were a few of the girls who played along with it. Crowley found it quite comical and had a hard time disciplining them seriously, as he needed to do in order to actually keep his job. The Holocaust had been no joke. Lots of people had been murdered and forced into camps. Communism was no joke, just look at what was going on in North Korea.

Still, Crowley found that this was hilarious and was doing exactly what he had gotten this job to do.

***

By the end of the year, the students had a list of so-called “Crowley-isms” which was a list of things that Crowley had said throughout the year. Things like “raise the level of suck” or “if you make a mistake, make it loud” or, a student favorite, “I am giving you the D and you are still not doing anything right. Come on guys.”

And Crowley had to admit, it was nice knowing that the kids actually paid attention to him. He was surprised at how much each and every one of them had improved musically through the year. A few of the shyest people in choir had even auditioned for solos or taken a solo to contest by the end of the year. He couldn’t help but feel proud of his students. Though, he was a demon so it wasn’t quite like indulging in one of the deadly sins was a sin. Not to his people at least. But it was hard to think of it as a sin when it felt so nice. All of his students were working so hard to make themselves, and by extension the choir, better. Their group ended up being one of the top five in their entire division, which Crowley could hardly believe.

It was, after all, his first year teaching. He hadn’t expected much to come of it. He was still learning how to do this job for himself. Of course, he couldn’t take all of the credit, but it was hard not to think about his influence on the kids. Of which a number had already secured themselves a spot in hell. Crowley could only imagine how far his reach would go the longer he did this whole teaching thing. Maybe, just maybe, this whole thing was a good thing after all.

Well, not objectively good. No one in Heaven would be praising anything he was doing here. But, well, he was doing exactly what Hell would want him to do.

After the last day of school, Crowley stumbled home, completely burnt out from the year. He had gone above and beyond for all of these kids, and was going to continue to do so throughout the summer by offering lessons. However, for tonight it was just him and his angel.

As he had most nights, Aziraphale was making some sort of food when Crowley came home. Crowley stumbled into the kitchen and put his arms around his angel and kissed him.

“I did it,” Crowley said. “I made it through the first year.” Aziraphale turned his face slightly to give Crowley better access to his cheek, before turning his focus back on the food. He didn’t, after all, want to burn it. Crowley kissed Aziraphale again and began swaying back and forth.

“Oh Crowley, I am so proud of you,” Aziraphale said. He turned and pulled the demon closer by his belt loops. “I knew you could do it. You’ve worked so hard for this.” Aziraphale kissed the demon before abruptly pulling away. “That’s why I bought you this.” Aziraphale held up a bottle of wine. It wasn’t Crowley’s favorite drink in the world, but it was the kind of alcohol that the two of them had always enjoyed together. He popped the cork out and poured each of them a drink. “To you and all of your hard work these last few years!” Aziraphale held up his glass. Crowley smiled and clinked his glass against Aziraphale’s.

“To me and all of my hard work.”

[rosaxlunar]

❝ INNOCENCE IS AN ILLUSION. WE ALL STAIN OUR OWN HANDS.❞

&&. ( natalia de leon ) was just spotted in amsterdam. rumor has it ( she/her ) is a ( 129  / appears 24 ) year old ( vampire ) who resembles ( danna paola ). ( she/her ) has been said to be ( ambitious & captivating ) but also quite ( gossipy & spiteful ).with all the chaos surrounding the magical underworld, ( she ) has chosen to align with ( vampires / dark alliance ). ( she ) is currently serving as ( a spy for the night court ). hopefully the city doesn’t devour them whole.

001 ♥ THE BASICS

NAME: Natalia De Leon AGE: One Hundred Twenty Nine appears Twenty Four DOB: January 10 1890 - Capricorn  GENDER: Cis Female SEXUALITY: Heterosexual  NATIONALITY: Mexican SPECIES: Vampire ALLEGIANCE: Vampires / Dark Alliance  THEME SONG: Brunette Ambition  - Qveen Herby PERSONALITY TRAITS: ( + ) Ambitious, Captivating, Resilient & Daring  ( - ) Sneaky, Gossipy, Spiteful & Deceitful 

002 ♥ IN DEPTH

Natalia De Leon always knew she deserved better than the unlucky cards she got at life. 

Born in Oaxaca Mexico to impoverished farmers who worked for the local haciendas, she had her whole destiny set in stone the minute it was confirmed she was born a girl. She would learn the womanly responsibilities to becoming a wife, no need for any sort of education that didn’t comprise of caretaking, and when she was of age she would marry another farmer and no longer be a burden on her parents. Growing up, Natalia cursed her fate, cursed the status quo that offered her no nope. She was a girl with a penchant for daydreaming, wishing she could have all the material things her heart desired, wishing she could be of the social class that she begrudgingly worked for. She detested that her daily routine was that of chores and domestic training. Her bright mind, while undernourished in terms of literacy, still understood the visceral power in money and she yearned for it. She dreamed for a chance to snub her fate. She wished for a miracle.

In walks Senorita Ada Rhodes. Natalia was only fifteen years old at the time, working as a servant in the same hacienda her parents farmed for. Senorita Ada was like no woman Natalia had ever encountered before, she was intelligent, sophisticated and radical. She traveled with no husband, no acceptable male escort and there was an air about her. She was dangerous and that intrigued Natalia. As honored guest of the family, Natalia’s duty was to assure she was taken care of and comfortable. A duty she carried out proudly. Natalia was utterly bespelled, observing all her mannerisms, giggling under her breath anytime she ignored the conventional rules of how women should behave. Gasping in delight when her bouts of spying led to learning secrets about affairs and relationships between women she didn’t think were even possible. And by a stroke of luck, Senorita Rhodes seemed to find her presence acceptable. What were once small conversations became ones that lasted through the night. With Ada, Natalia felt the sort of bond she always wished from her mother. With Ada, her innermost secrets, about hating her life, about her fear of being nothing but a wife, about dying poor and unaccomplished, were spoken aloud and validated. Soon Ada would send her to do small errands and Natalia eagerly carried them out. And when Ada would ask her questions about certain individuals, Natalia made sure to seek out the answers if she didn’t know them already. Ada could have asked her for the moon, and Natalia’s devotion was so strong she would have done anything in her might to get it done. 

When it came time for Ada to leave, Natalia was distraught. She couldn’t lose the person who had expanded her views, she couldn’t be confined back into the small box that was her life without the hope of seeing her again. Senorita Rhodes was the reason her job wasn’t the chore it had always been. She begged and pleaded to go with, willing to follow the woman wherever she decided to go but was denied. Natalia refused to take no as an answer and the night that Ada was set to leave, Natalia grabbed her essential belongings and followed without a word to her parents or bosses. She would rather die out in the world she had yet to explore than to continue to rot away in the life she already knows. It wasn’t long afterwards that Natalia found out the truth about Ada, in fact it happened mere minutes after she began following the woman. In what Natalia assumes was an attempt to scare her back to her life, Ada revealed her true self, flashed her fangs and told her to leave. But it had the opposite effect. Natalia’s eyes widened with wonder, yes, her heart accelerated and yes, a shiver went down her spine, her body felt the fear but her mind went back over all the inconsistencies, all the times she wondered what exactly was off about this mysterious woman. Her mind pieced the puzzle together and immediately her first question was “puedes hacer me como tu?”

Ada refused, but allowed Natalia to follow her around. Years went by like this, Natalia following the vampire as her human (non sexual) pet. She learned to read and write in spanish, followed by trainings in self defense and weapons. Natalia became the errand girl for Ada, infiltrating locations as a servant girl in order to overhear gossip, luring in potential meals for the vampire and so on and so forth. Every year on Natalia’s birthday, she would beg to be turned and every year she would be denied. 

Then the Mexican Revolution broke out, the rebellion against the dictatorship of Diaz that soon spanned as a fight against everything wrong in the nation. Natalia joined la soldaderas who then became known as las adelitas. Natalia became one of the countless of women who followed the armies around to help their efforts in the war. They were fighting for land, for freedom, for a chance to rise the ranks. Everything Natalia had always yearned for and felt was right. Natalia is twenty four and she feels more alive then she ever has before, befriending the adelitas who became powerful in the ranks. The ones who didn’t just clean the weapons or prepare food or provide healing services. No, she joined the women who fought alongside the men, thanks to the training under Ada, she belonged with with the women who became leaders, strategizing in battles and winning them. ( With no recognition of course, the men always took the glory.) Natalia figured, this was why Ada was placed in her life. The force that was strong enough to change her fate. Strong enough to go against what God had planned for her. A force that in turned made Natalia strong enough to fight for change in country.

The beauty of having Ada Rhode’s protection, what that even in the midst of all the chaos, Ada would consistently check up on Natalia. And Natalia always looked forward to those visits, often leaving her camp to meet the vampire halfway. One night, when trekking out to meet with her mentor, Natalia is ambushed, a group of men from the troops, bitter and enraged over her constant rejection of them, decided that she needed to learn a lesson. Natalia was fast and strong, but not against so many. Her piercing shrieks hit the night air, but nobody came, she was too far from the camp and the men only cackled as she squirmed and refused to stay still. Her fear rising as they held her down, her tears spilling as they sliced off her clothes with knives. Natalia’s rage grew alongside the fear, she could not go out like this, she refused to go like this and in her final attempt, she reached for the nearest knife that had been let go of, so they could touch her with their bare hands. She grabbed it and swung, slashing whatever available skin was in her reach. This angered them enough to hit her back, going so far as to stab her in the softness of her exposed belly. Ada arrived then and Natalia can barely remember what happened afterwards. She can only remember the pain, the coldness of the air hitting her exposed skin with the contrast of the warm blood leaving her body. That and the utter relief she felt, knowing they didn’t go inside her, violating her the way they had planned to. If she had to die now, at least she would know she fought to the very end.

When she woke up, it was to a hunger unlike anything she had ever felt before. Confused and bewildered over the fact that she even woke up at all. Natalia looked into the eyes of her maker and everything clicked. She was no longer human. 

003 ♥ FUN FACTS

Natalia left the war the minute she became a newborn vampire. Her lack of control a danger to her peers, however she never felt guilty losing control and feeding on the scumbags who had a history of rapes and assult against the adelitas. 

Natalia’s feminist views were 100% thanks to Ada, although she often questioned the status quo growing up, she never rebelled against the machista expectations of her. This mental liberation made it so by the time she was active in the Mexican Revolution, the Adelitas who dressed as men, or had relations with other women didn’t disgust or offend her. Having accidently caught her mentor in the same positions. In fact, this also made it so she felt free to have sex with men without feeling ashamed for enjoying it. And in battlefronts where it was mostly men desperate for some pussy, she always got the pickings she wanted, and shot at those who tried to try anything when she wasn’t receptive to it.  The ambush that lead to her change wasn’t the only close call she had, but it was the first one she wasn’t able to handle on her own

As a vampire, and exposed to the wealth of her sire, Natalia finally started indulging in all the materialistic whims she had and she never looked back. You will never find Natalia looking anything less than her best. Jewels, high end clothing, fine art and fine weapons make Natalia happy. Spa days, nail art, anything extremely girly is what she seeks.

Natalia now knows multiple languages, thanks in part to her missions but mostly thanks to Ada. Immediately after learning literacy in her native language, Ada had begun teaching her english. Those lessons were set aside during her war stint, but came back after she had been turned.  Now, she’s fluent in all of the love languages and is attempting to learn korean followed by japanese and chinese.

Natalia while enjoying casual sex (and lots of it), has never fallen in love and this point thinks it’s nothing but a fairytale. 

In the beginning, Natalia felt very neutral towards humans and even now, her disdain towards them isn’t as fierce as other vampires. What she doesn’t tolerate is the idea of hiding back in the shadows now that the truth is out. She resents how humans have accepted the wolves and the angels so easily and resents the idea that the vampires need to go to hiding as if something is wrong with them. When she learned of Gabriel and his cause. She pledged her loyalty to him.

It’s thanks to Ada’s close relationship to Lucille that Natalia even found out about a position as a spy for the night court. Since she’s basically spent her whole time with Ada as a spy for her, it’s a skill she’s only gotten better with time and the newfound powers of compulsion she has. To this day Natalia has been working under Lucille’s orders for fifteen years and has successfully completed three missions. Natalia is returning to Amsterdam under Lucille’s orders. 

004 ♥ WANTED CONNECTIONS

anything: Vampire friends! Enemies! Fuck buddies! Exes (where she broke them up) Frenemies! lets plot!

[doedreamss]

The Cowboy and the Mustang

Ship: Hangman Adam Page x Jane (OC)

Summary: While on a road trip into mid-northern Montana, Jane takes a quick walk with the intent to stretch her legs before she gets back on the road.  She stumbles across an arena where a gentle cowboy is working to earn the trust of a curious but wild young mustang.

Rating: General (this is pure fluff)

Length: 2,881 words

Available below the cut or on AO3 HERE

“We just need to stop for gas real quick,” Kate was squinting at the road signs up ahead, scanning for the off-ramp they’d need for a gas station, “and we’ll be golden for another five-hundred or so miles.  Aha!” Triumphant, she clicked the blinker, switching lanes until she could take the proper off-ramp.

The town they’d stopped off at was charmingly small.  Nestled in mountainous Montana, the streets were shrouded in shade cast off tall, healthy douglas-fir trees.  A few small homes could be caught nestled through the trees as you drove past, but they were gone in a blur.  Jane realized nearly all of them had wood-fenced corrals on the property and livestock, too.  She grinned. This was exactly what she expected the Montana mountains to be like, as if it leaped from the pages of those sappy, horribly cliche cowboy romance books she used to read when she was younger.

They pulled into the two-pump gas station and Jane popped the door open, hopping out of the passenger’s side as Kate prepared to start pumping.

“I’m going to stretch my legs for a few minutes if that’s cool?”

“Yeah, I need to go to the bathroom anyways.  I’ll park the car over there,” she pointed at a lot beside the convenience store, “after the tank’s full.”

“Awesome!”  Jane tucked her phone into her pocket and turned on her boot’s heel, starting to walk aimlessly down the road just for the sake of walking.  They’d been in the car a little over nine hours, traveling since they’d woken up and left the hotel room that morning and only stopping once, very briefly over five hours ago.  

Jane and Kate had met in veterinary school, where they were both studying to be equine veterinarians. They’d become best friends and eventually realized they both had a dream to drive across the mid-western United States, stopping wherever they wanted on a whim and with no real destination in mind.  Next year would be their final year of school together, so they’d decided to spend the summer before fall semester doing what they’d dreamed of doing, together.

“Hold up boy!”  A low, reassuring voice shouted out gently, startling Jane from her thoughts.  She blinked, glancing to her left.  A cowboy stood in the middle of an arena with his large hands in the air, palms out in surrender to a stocky bay colt who was heaving heavy breaths as he glared under his forelock.  She could make out the white freeze-brand in the colt’s neck.  He’d been a wild mustang seized off his home range by the BLM and sold at auction.

Curiously narrowing her eyes, Jane turned toward the scene and took quiet steps over the dried, fallen pine-needle floor toward the wood-post of the arena fence.  Hands in her pockets, she studied the scene in front of her.

The cowboy was handsome in a Romantic way, as if he could be on the cover of one of those very novels she’d thought of earlier.  He had fluffy, gold-blond hair that fell in a soft cloud on his shoulders and caught the sunlight with enough beauty to make her breathless.  He had a low brow and a defined nose, and a soft vulnerability about him that was comforting, even though he was a stranger.  A fine, well-kept blond beard made his gentle face just rugged enough to be complimentary.  He wore fitted Wrangler jeans, worn leather cowboy boots, a belt with a flashing, big silver belt buckle, and a flannel button-up shirt in checkered blues and whites.  A cowboy hat sat on those curls, just barely containing them and helping keep his eyes out of the sunlight.

He was concentrated on the horse he was in the pen with.  He didn’t take his eyes off the colt, and even murmured in a gentle breath, “Easy boy, easy…”  He hadn’t even noticed he’d gained an audience.

The mustang – a rich, chocolate bay with deep black points and a small white snip on his dark muzzle – struck the sand in the ring, digging a small trench.  He tossed his head, upsetting his rich, black mane over his neck, snorted again and stepped back.  His tail swatted his muscled hindquarters and he turned, giving the cowboy one last eyeful before trotting away and putting space between them again. Whatever the cowboy had done had made the mustang scold him for it.

Jane watched the slight tension leave the cowboy’s shoulders and he lowered his hands slow, hooking his thick thumbs into his pockets.   He was still watching the colt, who’d stopped by the fence post a few yards in front of him and was gently nosing it, pretending he wasn’t watching the cowboy.  He was very clearly doing just that.  Jane’s mouth slowly melted into a smile.  The mustang was curious about the cowboy and wanted to trust him, but he was telling him it wasn’t going to be that easy.  The cowboy was telling the mustang he understood that, he wouldn’t expect it any other way, and he’d be there when the colt was ready to trust him.  All without saying a word.

It was in their subtle body language.  The way the mustang kept his side slightly turned in to the cowboy and flicked his ears with interest wherever the man moved.  The way the cowboy glanced away from the mustang, scuffing his boots in the sand and pretending that was more interesting to watch instead.  A curious horse felt sneaky if a person’s eyes weren’t on it, and that’s just the opportunity the cowboy was giving the colt.  Jane held her breath, wondering if the colt was going to take it.

The mustang’s tail flicked gently back and forth before he jerked his chin gently toward the cowboy and turned, moving almost aggressively, testing the cowboy’s commitment to his indifference.  But the cowboy didn’t jump at the sudden movement or even turn his head toward the colt. He glanced away slow, up into the towering pines and squinted, pretending to watch the Steller’s Jay that sat on a branch and bobbed its black-mohawk head.  The mustang swayed, leaning his weight forward as if he was going to walk, and then thinking again before leaning back.  His ears were still pointed on the cowboy.

Come on, come on… Jane wanted to say, but kept her lips firmly shut so as not to speak and disrupt this almost magical moment.

One step.  Two.

The colt’s wild-worn hooves left soft tracks as he inched slowly closer and closer to the cowboy, who was looking back down at his boots.  Jane saw a smile twitch at the corner of his lips, but he was holding himself together and trying to maintain a calm, neutral front.

Another step.  Another.  Surely, he could feel the colt’s hot breath as he huffed softly, nostrils flared with his neck stretched, trying to smell the cowboy without being too close.  If there were any sudden movements the colt would spook, this moment would be broken, and they’d have to start from the beginning again.  The cowboy was doing his best to stay perfectly still, clearly concentrated and listening to every sense that could grab a hold of the colt and tell him exactly where he was and what he was doing.

The colt leaned in close enough that he rubbed his muzzle over the soft material of the cowboy’s flannel shirt.  He snorted and did it again, this time with intent.  He drew closer and closer until he no longer needed to stretch to touch his muzzle against the cowboy’s shirt.  In fact, he lifted his head and gently rested it on the cowboy’s shoulders.

That’s when the cowboy broke into a smile that lit up his entire face in a way that nearly made her heart stop.  The joy was so pure it pushed his cheeks into his eyes and gently crinkled them at the edge. He turned gingerly in place and the colt lifted his head but didn’t step away.  He waited for the cowboy to face him.

“Hey buddy,” the cowboy said as if greeting an old friend and lifted a wide palm to gently run over the colt’s broad face.  The colt nodded his head as if to show the cowboy he wanted to be pet a little firmer, and the cowboy laughed.  “Pushy, pushy.”  His fingernails curled and he gently scratched the colt’s short chocolate brown hair on his forehead, face, and the bridge of his muzzle.

This was a different scene than just a few moments ago, and she imagined it was even more different than before she’d come across them.  The cowboy’s perseverance had paid off and given the curious, wild young horse the right to choose whether he wanted a human’s company.  Horses, naturally herd creatures, didn’t often want to be alone when given the choice.  Especially one like the bay, who’d been wild and always run alongside his family.

With a final pat to the colt’s thick neck, running gently over the white freeze brand, the cowboy told the colt they were done for the day.  He turned and walked away, but soon there were the steady plods of hoof beats following.  The cowboy grinned again and glanced over his shoulder at the colt who was trailing in his path.  He shook his head, disturbing those pretty blond curls just slightly, and turned back around again. 

“Now I can’t get rid of you, huh?”  It was said fondly.

He didn’t notice Jane until he was already outside the arena and had latched the gate.  He’d glanced away from the colt and turned toward his left, where she stood just a few feet away.  He jolted slightly and blinked, surprised.

“Ah, howdy miss.”  He reached up and pinched the bridge of his cowboy hat, giving it a gentle dip of respect.

“I’m sorry,” Jane said, and felt her stomach tense and her breath feel stuck in her lungs.  She hadn’t been able to see how blue and gentle his eyes were from where she’d stood or just how nicely his thick, solid ranch-man's body filled out his clothes.  “I um,” she blinked and realized she was staring.  She gave her head a small jerk back and forth to shake her brain up and set it right again.  “My friend and I stopped for gas and I needed to walk, we’ve been in the car since Idaho Falls and I was feeling a little cramped.  I didn’t mean to spy on you or anything, I was just… the way you were communicating with that colt, it was breathtaking.”  She felt really, really stupid and closed her mouth fast, her cheeks starting to burn.  She knew she had to be the brightest shade of red.

The cowboy’s blue eyes fell to the floor and his smile curled wide.  It looked like he had to work to keep it from spreading too far.  Wait… was he blushing too?  She could barely tell on account of his beard and the shadow his cowboy hat cast across his face, but she swore she could see the faintest hint of pink.

“Thank you miss.”  He spoke with a humbled, country accent and pulled those eyes back up to hers. 

“So, who’s your friend?” She asked, jerking her head toward the colt in the arena, who was watching them.  

“Don’t know yet,” he said, giving the colt a glance and smiling back at her.  “They tell me their name when they’re ready.”

“They tell you their name?” She crossed her arms over her chest and arched a brow but couldn’t keep the smile off her face.  “So, you’re telling me you can talk to horses?”  

He laughed and it was a warm, comfortable sound.  Like a fire you could curl up to, wrapped in a big fluffy blanket, while snow fell in lazy slow flakes outside the window.

“No, not that.  I just mean sometimes I’ll be working with the horse and the name will just come to me.  Sometimes I’ll see something and think of them and realize that’s who they are, or they’ll show me more and more of a personality and it’ll remind me of something else.”  He shook his head and blew a semi-amused sigh out his lips.  “I sound like I’m crazy, don’t I?”

“Not at all,” Jane said quickly, shaking her head.  “You listen to them.”

“Yeah,” he agreed soft, his blue eyes on her.  “I’m Adam, by the way.  Should have said that earlier.”   He smiled sheepish, as if he was embarrassed he’d just now realized he hadn’t introduced himself.  He moved close enough to extend his hand and Jane glanced at it, noticing how small hers appeared in comparison as she slipped it into his.  He gave her a firm shake and pulled his hand back.

It fit him, somehow.  Adam, created from the earth.

“I’m Jane.”

“So… you said you haven’t stopped driving since Idaho?”  He kept talking, asking her a question that’d keep her there.  Her heart raced a little faster, thinking that he didn’t want her to leave so soon.

“Idaho Falls.  We left from Boise this morning.”

“Oh,” he said, and cleared his throat.  “You and your beau?”

“Oh, no!”  Jane shook her head with a smile, completely missing that he’d almost seemed disappointed when he thought she had a partner.  “My best friend Kate and me.  We’re both studying at university to be equine veterinarians and next year’s our last year, so we decided to do a road trip together before fall semester starts.”

“Oh!”  He said and smiled broad again, nodding his head.  “That’s really cool.”  His tone was genuine, expression open.  “So are you planning on staying anywhere nearby or–”

Before he could ask his question, they were interrupted by a sharp, loud car horn honking.  They both jumped and glanced toward the road a few yards off and saw Kate in the car, her window down and waving her arm to beckon Jane back toward the car.

“Jane!  Come on!”

Jane wanted to scream. She knew they had a tight schedule to get to where they needed to go at the end of the night before they went stir crazy from being on the road too long, but did it have to be right then? She’d been certain Adam was trying to figure out if she was going to be somewhere close by.  Why would he want to know that unless he wanted to see her more? Jane gave Kate a look, letting her know she’d interrupted something, and immediately saw the guilt flash across Kate’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Jane said as she turned back toward Adam.  Everything inside her was wailing dramatically, hating the words that were going to have to come out of her mouth next.  “We’re on a really tight schedule…”  She took a step, hating it as she forced herself to start to turn away.

“Jane, wait,” he said, and his voice was urgent, but gentle.  He reached out and his wide, warm, work-calloused hand wrapped around hers again. His thumb stroked her skin and he looked a little breathless when she looked from their clasped hands and into his face.  “I, uh,” the tips of his ears faintly reddened, but he didn’t let go of her hand and she didn’t pull it away.  “If you were going to be around tonight, it’s Saturday night and around six in the evening I sometimes wind up down at Harry’s Bar in town.  I’d like to buy you a drink and maybe get to know you a little better, if you’d like that too.”

She could see his nervous hopefulness clear as day, and it endeared her to him immediately.  Where had this adoring, sweet, handsome cowboy come from if not her dreams?  The fact that he was genuinely interested in her, enough to ask her to stay so he could see her again, nearly blew her mind.

Jane took a step back, and another, until his hand gently dropped hers.  She turned around, tossing ideas through her mind, weighing options and wondering how mad Kate would be if their plans took a slight detour.  They’d said they wanted to stop wherever their heart told them to stop, hadn’t they?  Jane met Kate’s eyes and saw she was smiling.  Jane matched that smile and stopped, turning to look at Adam.

“Hey, Adam?”

He looked at her.

“I think your colt told me his name is Whiskey.”

“That so?”  He asked, grinning.

“Yeah, and that’s what you can have ready tonight when I meet you at Harry’s for that drink.”

Adam’s smile was so wide, it showed a pretty row of teeth.  It made Jane’s heart feel like it skipped a beat.

“I look forward to it, Jane.”  He tipped his hat, and his smile turned a little softer, a little fuller of the wonder he had in his eyes for her.  Her name had never sounded more wonderful than it did in that warm country baritone.

“Me too, Adam.”

The colt she’d said was named Whiskey snorted and bobbed his head, watching her from where he stood in the arena beside Adam.  She imagined it was a gesture of encouragement.

 (to be continued…) 

[survivingthejungle]

foreigner’s god iii

absolutely none of u want this but you know what?? im fucking posting it anyways bc i LIKE IT

so here’s part 3

If the bond between the sons of Ragnar hadn't already been split after avenging their father, then they certainly were the moment that Ivar picked up his axe and launched it into Sigurd's chest. But when Ivar offered that his brothers remaining were welcome to join him on his journey to continue conquering more land and searching for the princess he had met not long before, something stirred in Hvitserk's heart. He was willing to look past the atrocity that Ivar had committed, if only for a while, if it meant that the dream he had been having could finally be answered. 

When the youngest Ragnarson happened upon Floki and Helga planning to leave with their stolen child from Andalusia, he was half surprised that he was able to convince them to stay around for him. He was honestly devastated by the fact that he'd murdered his own brother, and Floki knew this better than anyone: one look at Ivar begging them to stay with him was all that he needed to know that Ivar would crumble without the one person who'd always been there for him. "My heart is broken," he whispered, voice hoarse from sobbing. 

Floki hugged him tightly. "It will repair," he promised. "Think of your Liusaidh. Ivar the Boneless, scourge of the world. You will survive this."

— 

"The Saxons are in disarray. This is a good opportunity. We have the resources to make a permanent settlement," Ubbe reasoned. 

"D'you agree, Ivar?" Hvitserk silently hoped that he wouldn't, but his tone remained impartial.

"I don't want to disband the army. In fact, I want to continue the war against the Saxons while we are still in a position of strength! My suggestion is that we go back north, to where we defeated Ælle. We should establish a permanent camp, as you say," he gestured to Ubbe, "But near the coast. From where we can raid wherever we want."

"Our father's dream," Ubbe argued, using a half eaten chicken leg to punctuate his point, "Was that we wouldn't be just raiders. That we would behave in a different way." "You're not listening, Ubbe. We- we have to have a stronghold. If we go north, we are closer to our own lands, and shipping routes… we can build an impregnable fortress." "Where?" Hvitserk goaded. 

"I've heard of a town. Called York." His brothers, clearly interested, stopped eating for a moment to listen. "It is built on a major river and it is not far from the sea. And I think that… we should take it."

Ubbe dissented. "No. It would seem like a withdrawal."

"Yes. Yes, it would," Ivar concurred, "But it is only tactical. Surely you understand, Ubbe, if we establish ourselves in the middle of the country, then we are surrounded by enemies! In York, we are near our home. Right, Hvitserk?" Hvitserk glanced at Ubbe, hopeful. "I agree with Ivar. We should go north, and take York."

"That's good," Ubbe said, fake cheerfully, and left the tent. Hvitserk and Ivar shared a look. 

"What about your Princess in Inis, Ivar?" Hvitserk prompted. "York is not near that other coast."

"No," he admitted, "But that is why we are going to Inis first, and then taking York."

"What do you mean?" he promptly spat back. "You just said— "

"I know what I said to Ubbe. But, brother, we are going to raid the other kingdom first, take what I am seeking, and then return to York. And…" he paused for a brief moment. "I am sure there is something you would like from Inish as well. The princess has plenty of sisters," he suggested. 

Hvitserk wouldn't show it, but the thought of that excited him. He wondered if the girl that kept appearing in his dreams could possibly be one of the sisters Ivar mentioned. 

— 

"They're coming." Liusaidh woke up early in the morning, gasping for air like she hadn't breathed in hours. She had burrowed into Caridwen's side in the middle of the night during a particularly loud thunderstorm. The mac Neíll children all loved the rain, of course, but it was somewhat of a ritual for them to all gather in Caridwen's room when there was a midnight storm.

Niamh, on the other side of Caridwen and not moving a single inch, called out muffled by the covers, "What are you on about, Lius?"

"Vikings. They're coming. I— I had a dream about it. They're in England and they're coming to Inis."

"Don't be ridiculous," Brigid called from the other end of Caridwen's bed. "Vikings don't want to come here."

"I'm not kidding, both of you! It was like a vision; like I could see it happening in real life, but sped up very fast."

Labhraín was only half awake at that moment, but understood perfectly what Liusaidh was describing. "She's right," she whispered, voice hoarse. "I'm having a dream like it."

Caridwen, now fully awake and aware, sat up and got out of bed, walking over to her nightstand and pouring a jug of water into a bowl to wash her face. "Well then," she mumbled, "I suppose we should tell someone?" Brigid nodded.

"We should tell Morrigan, she knows all about these things."

"What do I know all about, you wee rascals?" Morrigan asked, entering into Caridwen's room to prepare them for the day. 

"Liusaidh and Labhraín have been havin' the same dream about the same wee Vikings comin' to the island," Brigid told her. Morrigan nodded.

"Well then, wains, I'd say we'd better figure out what it all means then, wouldn't you?"

— 

The princesses all trailed alongside or behind Morrigan as she led them to the drawing room in their section of the castle where they would all have their lessons— though, for today, instead of learning embroidery or music or writing, they'd be learning how to interpret the youngest mac Neílls most recent dreams. As the five young ladies took seats all around the room, Morrigan instructed Liusaidh and Labhraín to sit in front of her and relay their dreams in as much detail as they could recall.

Liusaidh went first, informing them about how she saw their beloved home, billowing in smoke, being plundered and pillaged by Viking raiders; how she saw her sisters all being pulled away from one another, while one group fled to safety and the other was lead to the Viking ships; how she could clearly see the face of the Viking boy that they had met in England not so long ago, and how he was the one dragging her away from her destroyed home. 

Labhraín, still mildly bothered by Liusaidh's own dream, was then instructed to share her own. It had been recurring for several nights, and always the same: the same bloodied Viking man charging at her, always running away, but never fast enough, and being captured and dragged away to their heathen ships. Morrigan nodded understandingly upon hearing both dreams while the other three sisters waited with bated breath to hear her conclusion. "Well, lasses, it seems we have some mystics on our hands. Those are purely prophetic dreams if I've ever heard 'em— and I have, best you believe. What we're to do now is tell your Ma and Da all about what you've been seein', and let them decide how to deal with it."

— 

As it turned out, the girls' parents decision on how to deal with it was to simply not deal with it at all. Despite all Morrigan's attempts to convince the king and queen that their daughters' dreams were truly seeing the future, and that they had much to fear, they couldn't be made to believe it. 

"Girls," their father began, "I know that you believe that your dreams are tellin' the future. But I can promise you, with all I know, that it's simply not gonna happen! Your dreams are just the results of having too active imaginations, and from bein' at each other's sides all the live-long day. Lord above, you'd think the two wains were more twins than the actual twins," their father muttered to their mother, who simply nodded in response. "Now go to your studies please, all of you. Thank you for letting us know about your concerns, lasses, but there's nothing to worry about."

— 

The next morning, Ivar and Hvitserk took off with a small band of men — enough to do damage, but not enough to make the rest of their great army less powerful— and headed off toward the opposite coast to sail to Inis. They'd informed Ubbe at the last minute, telling him of their plans to capture the kingdom and steal away a princess or two, and he was less than pleased with the idea. "You can't just raid an entire country on a whim, Ivar," he'd scolded, "These things have to be planned. What if you don't take enough men and get everyone killed, huh? This is a horrible idea. And what if the Saxons push us out while you are one?"

"The Saxons could not push us out no matter how hard they try; even if I take some men away for now. We are still stronger than them in every possible way, Ubbe. Have faith, brother! We have a plan. We know their kingdom does not have a very strong army. It will be an easy raid. Like when father sacked the monastery at Lindisfarne so long ago. There is nothing to worry about; and we will be back before you can even miss me," he smirked smugly, patting his oldest brother's cheek. 

And so, despite his protests, Ivar and Hvitserk headed west to Inis, to capture the kingdom of Tara and, perhaps, even some princesses.

— 

Within a week of Liusaidh and Labhraín's dreams first recurring, there had been news that Caridwen's betrothed, Alfred, was deathly ill, that the kingdom of Wessex had been taken over by Vikings, and that a band of "rogue" Vikings were heading west. Caridwen, who hadn't seen Alfred in close to three years, was devastated. There was no news that he had died (yet), but his mother Judith claimed that he wasn't showing signs of recovering any time soon. The two young royals had exchanged letters back and forth rather regularly after they'd first met one another all those years ago, and she was distraught that he was so ill and so far from home. 

Her mother and father were concerned as well; not only for Alfred's health, but also for their daughter's future. "If Alfred doesn't survive, who will be left for her? His brother? Christ in heaven, Danu, it's not that I want to send the girl away, but we need this alliance."

"All we can do for now is pray, Aéd. We can't start makin' arrangements for the wain before anything even happens. Have faith that he'll be alright. If only for Caridwen."

Eoghan and his younger sisters, minus the eldest, were more concerned about the whispers of rogue Vikings and that they were coming west. Out in the forest once again, climbing trees and picking berries, they discussed their theories.

"Labhraín and I told you all that Vikings were coming. We had dreams and everything, but you didn't believe us."

"You don't even know that they're coming here, Liusiadh," Niamh called up to her sister, sitting on a tree branch and whittling a twig she'd found. "Y'have one dream and all of a sudden think you're a mystic; sweet Jesus."

"Niamh! You watch your words talkin' about the Lord!" Eoghan chastised her. The two of them were sitting below the trees on a quilt that they'd brought from the castle.

"Aye, Niamh, you shouldn't swear," Brigid called from beyond the bushes, picking berries. "Because when you swear, our Lady in Heaven, she cries her tears; and then make rain." She appeared in the clearing with the rest of her siblings. "Isn't that right, Eoghan?"

He stared at her for a moment, baffled, before slowly nodding. "Aye… so it is, Brigid. So it is." Brigid, pleased with his assurance, nodded once and smiled before hopping back off to pick more fruits. 

"I think you're all dense as rocks for not believin' our dreams," Labhraín called. She was sitting on a tree branch opposite Liusaidh, weaving together flowers that she'd picked on their way to the forest. "Even Morrigan said so."

"Eoghan?" Liusaidh called to her brother. "How long d'you suppose it would take some Vikings to reach our coast from Wessex?" Physically, she was trying her hardest not to appear bothered; but the shaking of her voice betrayed the steadiness of her face.

"Week, week and a half maybe, Lius," he told her honestly. Eoghan was never the type to lie to someone for their own comfort. "But there's no way to know for sure whether or not these Vikings are even trying to come to Inis."

"Aye, not until they show up right on the coastline," Brigid deadpanned. "'Course, by then, it's too late. Y'know, because we're already trapped."

"Christ, Brigid! D'you have any damn empathy for your sister at all?" Niamh yelled. Eoghan, peeved with her profanity, launched an elderberry at her forehead. "Catch yerself on, Eoghan," she shot at him. 

"What's your problem lately, Niamh?" Labhraín asked. "Just gets me angry that you're all actin' as if there isn't something wrong when there clearly is." After a beat of silence, she continued. "Our oldest sister's bein' married off to a wain she met one time; and if that wain dies 'cause he's sick, then Da will make her marry his older brother, who might as well be an old man. And no one seems to care except me, not even Caridwen. And here you and Liusaidh are havin' dreams about Viking raids! And no one's been battin' an eye at any of it! It's pretty damn disgraceful, if you ask me!"

"Take a deep breath, dheirfúir. You'll pass out," Brigid reminded her through a mouthful of elderberries.

"Brigid," Niamh started, eyes closed and eerily calm. "I'm this close to launchin' you off that cliff." Brigid backed up a pace, eyes widening for a moment.

— 

They came in the early hours of the morning. 

The two youngest, still plagued by their possibly prophetic dreams, awoke a while after the witching hour, and found their way to one another in the castle's dim hallways. It was Liusaidh's idea to take the horses out and ride to clear their minds; while Labhraín didn't agree at first, she eventually caved. The girls left without stirring a single person in the castle from their sleep. 

They were too far inland from the coast to see the ships landing on the shore or hear the hollers coming from aboard. 

The sun had only just begun to rise on the day that their futures would be altered forever.

— 

"This is the place, Ivar? You're sure?" Hvitserk asked. They were just moments away from reaching the shore. 

"Exact place? No, Hvitserk, I am not sure. I have never been to this place before, have you?" he snapped. "If it is not here, we will find it. But I know it is the right country."

"I can only hope, Hvitserk muttered. When the ships were beached and the castle was in sight, the rogue band of Vikings poured out onto the sand; and once Ivar's chariot was prepared, they headed toward the place where he prayed to the fates that his Liusaidh would be. 

— 

After the girls had calmed themselves during their walk in the forest, they returned to the open field to find their horses gone. "Maybe they got spooked by a snake," Labhraín tried. 

"There are no snakes in Inis, fool. Remember Naomh Pádraig?"

"Something else, then. A bear, maybe?" "I hope not." They shared a solemn look and took off back toward the castle. "I'm sure they went home, though."

"We should hurry back, then. In case anyone sees them without us and thinks we're in trouble."

Once the walk was purely downhill, the girls were shocked at the state of their castle home. There were ships surrounding the coast, the gates were destroyed, windows were smashed, almost everything outside, was turned over or broken, and — there were Vikings. Real life Vikings. Everywhere. They were frozen on the spot, unable to say or do anything out of pure shock, until one Viking took note of them and pointed them out to the one who seemed to be the leader. He was riding a chariot pulled by a white horse, and was the only one not running around and wreaking havoc, so he must have been the one in charge. He took off uphill toward them and they ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction, their bodies working faster than their brains. 

—

Ivar called for his brother. "Hvitserk!" he yelled, "There are two of them. Maybe one is the girl from your dream!" It was obvious that Ivar was making fun of him, but his curiosity piqued and got the best of him; he followed his brother's chariot as fast as his legs would move towards the ones Ivar was chasing after. 

—

He was gaining on them and they were running out of options. They still had not reached the top of the hill, and the girls' legs were going weak on them. Labhraín tripped over a well-hidden rock, which put Liusaidh plenty of paces ahead of her. She almost stopped when she realized that her sister had fallen, but the chariot was getting too close. "Keep running, Liusaidh!" Labhraín called, and she obeyed her sister. She took off parallel to where she'd fallen, hoping to deter him from getting to her instead, and it seemed that her plan worked. The man in the chariot, wearing a heavy-duty metal helmet, took one look at Labhraín and went after the youngest instead. He was gaining on her faster and faster, and was getting closer and closer, until all Liusaidh could do was look straight ahead and pray to God he was farther away than he sounded.

Her prayers were not answered in the way that she was hoping. All of a sudden, the white horse and chariot were running up ahead of her and came to an abrupt halt, blocking her path. She was met face to face — well, face to helmeted face — with the man who had been pursuing her for so long. "Hello, Liusaidh. It is so nice to see you again."

That voice, she thought, it sounds so familiar.

He took off his helmet. It was the Viking prince she had met all those years ago in Wessex — it was Ivar the Boneless. "You are so tired from running," he observed, and suddenly she was too aware of her panting breaths and heavy legs. She noted that he was speaking in English to her. "Why don't you come up here and sit down?" he offered. 

"Níl aon slí," she spat at him, glaring daggers. "Bastaird Lochlannach."

He smiled condescendingly. "Well. I do not know what you just said, but I can tell that it wasn't very nice. Am I correct?" She remained stone cold. "I don't want to hurt you, Liusaidh. But you need to come with me willingly, or we will have problems." Still, she refused to move. He entertained her defiance for a moment, but was fed up with it very quickly. "You know," he started, "It would be such a shame if anything happened to your other sisters back at the castle. My men are there now, making sure they don't do anything… irrational. But if I were to give them permission… Well, I'm sure you wouldn't be too happy to hear what would happen to them— "

"Stop," she interrupted him in English. "Don't… don't hurt my sisters. I'll go. Just leave my family alone."

"Very wise. Come on, then," he gestured to a small, bench-like seat next to him on the chariot. "It isn't very Christian to keep your guests waiting, is it?" Begrudgingly, she accepted his outstretched hand to pull her up into the chariot, and sat down uncomfortably next to him. He refused to let go of her hand, instead bringing it up to his mouth. "You know," he began, the horse heading back to the castle and the shoreline, "I have been very excited to see you again since we last met. Do you remember? In Wessex?"

"Yes," she hoarsely whispered. "I remember."

"That was the last time my father was alive. Did you know?" She shook her head. "King Ecbert pawned him off to be killed. My brothers and I began planning our revenge as soon as we heard. And we finally got it, all these years later."

"Why did you come here? We had nothing to do with your father's death."

"Oh, I know." He released her hand and brought his own to smooth over her hair, like he was petting her. "I did not come here for revenge. I came for you."

She was speechless, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"You know, I never forgot about you," he told her, seemingly changing the subject. He smiled down at her. "I always knew that I would find you again one day." 

— 

While her sister took off in the other direction, Labhraín realized that the man on the chariot was not the only one chasing them.  There was a man coming after her on foot, sword in hand, blood splattered on his face; she got an overwhelmingly unsettling feeling of deja-vu. 

He seemed to feel it, too, because she could swear that she saw his eyes widen in realization when he saw her face. If it were at all possible, he began running toward her even faster. She stumbled over herself in a rapid attempt to stand back up and began running as fast as her legs would move her. She periodically looked back over her shoulder to take note of how close he was, and he was rapidly gaining on her. The hill still had yet to peak, and she was losing energy. 

She misjudged a crucial step and stumbled again, and her exhaustion caught up to her as the Viking did. (She realized now, what was so familiar to her — this was her dream. This was going to happen all along. She couldn't escape it.) She could hear him breathing heavily, getting closer and closer, footsteps pounding on the ground. He grabbed her arm roughly, once he was within reach of her, and pulled her toward him.

He brought his sword to her back to keep her from trying to escape and brought his other hand to grab her face now. He said something to her in what she could only assume was Norse, a bone-chilling smile on his face. At her terrified and confused expression, he repeated himself in English. "It's you."

"Níl aithne agam ortsa." She tried to shove him off of her and escape the pressing sword, but he held her tighter in response.

"Ah," he warned. "We've already defeated your people. It will be best for you to obey me. Come," he ordered, and she glared defiantly instead. He adopted an evil smirk and ran his thumb over her lips; she felt half tempted to bite, but decided not to. He then abruptly grabbed the back of her head and brought his sword to her neck, eliciting a small gasp, and maneuvered them both so that he was behind her, hand guiding the small of her back and sword still ready to slice. "You are a stealthy little thing, you know?" he mumered in her ear. "You have been showing up in my dreams at night for quite some time. I was beginning to think that I would not ever find you."

"What do you want from us?"

"Oh, I don't care for anything your kingdom can give me. I only wanted you. And now that I've gotten when I came here for, I will go back to England with my brothers, and we will take over York." 

"Alright," she tried to reason. "You've gotten me. You've gotten what you came here for. Then you must leave immediately and not harm my people."

"That's not my decision, pretty girl. You will just have to hope that your sister doesn't anger Ivar. He is in charge of all of this," he gestured to the scene before them. Hundreds of violent Viking warriors running amuck and causing panic in the streets of Tara. 

A thousand more questions ran around her head, but she took a deep breath — the sharp metal of Hvitserk's sword pressing into her throat — and remained silent, tilting her chin up just a hair. If she was going to die, she would die with all the dignity she could muster.

— 

They all four returned back to within the city walls not long after the two girls had been captured. It was evident that Hvitserk had not been lying when he said that Ivar was in charge of the army, because when he entered into the crowd of violent foreign invaders with Liusaidh at his side, they all fell silent and watched him closely, as if they were a pack of hunting dogs and he was their master returning with a fox. He stopped the chariot briefly, yelling something out to his warriors, and they all turned back the way they came and headed back to their longboats.

Liusaidh and Labhraín shared a panicked look when the two men who had seized them led them into the castle instead. "Dúirt sé go raibh grúpa fir ina ngiall," Liusaidh informed her sister, refusing to speak English in front of the two men. 

"An gceapann tú go ndéanfaidh sé iad a mharú?"

"Níl — níl a fhios agam," Liusaidh croaked, a heavy tear sliding down her cheek.

Ivar interrupted their conversation. "I hope you are not trying to plan an escape," he threatened, grabbing Liusaidh roughly by the hair and forcing her to look at him. 

"We're not!" she cried, scalp burning sharply. 

"Good," he responded, "Because it would not end well." He released his hold on her and lightly tapped her cheek. Ivar abandoned his horse and chariot and instead grabbed a pair of very heavy-duty metal crutches. He also grabbed two short spare ropes, throwing one to Hvitserk, and tied Liusaidh's wrists together, leaving enough on one side to pull her along with him like a very tragic leash. Hvitserk did the same to Labhraín's wrists, tying them so tightly that she gave a weak yelp when he tugged on them. He said nothing, nor did he make any attempts to loosen then, only smirking darkly. 

They entered into the castle, quickly finding where the Viking warriors were keeping the rest of the royal family hostage. They were in the girls' music room; Caridwen, Brigid, and Niamh were still in their simple white cotton nightgowns, same as Liusaidh and Lahbraín. Their father and brother were both wearing soft cotton trousers, one pair brown and the other a dark grey. Eoghan's tunic was a shade of white like his sisters' clothes, and King Aéd was wearing a deeply dyed red one. Their mother, also in her nightgown, had managed to also throw a deep green cloak over herself, dreading to be seen by such heathen invaders in her sleepwear. Ivar spoke to his men, surrounding the family with swords pointed and ready, in their native language, and the men backed away. "Your highness," he began, mock-bowing before King Aéd and still holding onto Liusaidh's rope. "We are very sorry to disturb your sleep. My most sincere apologies. But we got what we came for, as you can see." He lifted Liusaidh's hands with the rope, and Hvitserk did the same. The two girls looked pleading and sorrowful to their family, but understood that it would be much too risky for any of them to make any sudden movements. "So we will be on our way now. — And, don't try anything when we leave. I have made a promise to sweet Liusaidh here that I will not kill any of you, but if you try to hurt me or my brother... my hand may slip," he threatened. He then barked an order to his men to leave the castle and head back to the longboats, and he and Hvitserk turned and headed back the way they came, leaving the mac Neílls to their own devices in their ransacked castle. They stayed put, too afraid to move a finger (for Liusaidh and Labhraín's own safety, they could hardly claim to understand the thought process of these heathens), as the girls were dragged back outside. 

The four of them exited the castle doors and, when Hvitserk shut and barred them, one of Ivar's personal guards presented him with a lit torch. "What are you doing?" yelled a panicked Labhraín, both at Hvitserk and Ivar — whoever would listen. "You said you wouldn't hurt them!" 

"I said we wouldn't hurt them. If they can't escape the fire, well… that's not our fault. Hvitserk! Set it."

— 

Liusaidh and Labhraín were dragged away by a handful of Vikings, becoming too fidgety for just one person to keep a grip on them. Thrown onto Ivar and Hvitserk's boat — the biggest one of the fleet — they could do nothing but watch their castle home go up in smoke as they sailed away from the shore and due east. 

Neither of them had the will or the energy to protest as their ankles were bound and another rope was tied to connect their wrists to their feet. Ivar hobbled on his crutches to take a seat at the edge of the boat next to Liusaidh. His gloved and rough hand ame up to stroke the side of her face and brush through her hair. "You will forget about them one day. And you will learn to be happy with me," he promised, but the promise to her sounded more like a threat.

—

At the back of the boat, Hvitserk had seated himself next to Lahbraín. He brought her a spare blanket, placing it around her shoulders as she couldn't do it herself. He placed his palm on her cheek and brushed a tear away. "I am not a bad man like you think," he told her in a low whisper. "You will understand that eventually."

[three-houses-text-files]

byleth/mercedes

c-s support + paired ending + night of the ball

c

Mercedes: Good evening, Professor. Returning from work, I take it?

>That's right.

M: I commend you for working so late into the evening. All of my days at the academy are enriching, thanks to you.

>I'm still working.

M: My goodness! It's so late in the evening. That must be exhausting.

M: Try not to overtax yourself, all right? I'm concerned for your health. We wouldn't want you to wear yourself out. M: The goddess won't smite you if you rely on others for help, you know.

>Even so...

M: Listen here, Professor. You might not like what I'm about to say. M: To be perfectly honest, I had my doubts when I first met you.

>That's surprising.

>Why's that?

M: I don't want you to think less of me for saying this, but here we are. M: At first I thought you seemed too young to be a professor. It is unusual, you have to admit. M: Yet, you seemed very composed and mature, despite your age. M: You're strong-willed, encouraging, and you go to great lengths to ensure that everyone is cared for. M: But it almost feels like you're trying too hard to be a perfect role model for your students.

>I'm not trying too hard.

>It comes with the territory.

M: If that's how you feel, then I can't disagree. But I think it's necessary to give yourself a break every now and again. M: The mind has a tendency to make mistakes when you've exhausted yourself. M: In my case, I still seem to make mistakes even when I'm wide awake.

>Mistakes?

M: Oh, you know. I'm always mixing up the dates for drills or misplacing things. M: Just the other day, I forgot to put on my uniform and headed out to practice wearing only my— M: Oh, um. Well, you can imagine how embarrassed I was. My mind can be so scattered sometimes. M: Anyway... Where was I? Ah, that's right. What I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't push yourself too hard. M: If you do, you might end up in a pretty bad place. M: That reminds me! Is there anything I can do to assist you, Professor? M: If it's all right with you, I'd like to help in any way I can.

>Thanks, I appreciate it.

M: Whatever you need, just say the word.

>I'm not sure about that.

M: It'll be fine! I might be clumsy, but I'll get better over time.

M: I look forward to helping you out.

——————————————————————————————

b

NPC: You there, youngster. Won't you listen to this old man's troubles? NPC: I was born and raised right here in this town. I spent my whole life here. NPC: My daughter lives in the Empire, and she sent me a letter to ask if I was keeping up with my daily worship.

>...

M: Well, hello there, Professor. Is this a friend of yours?

>I don't know him.

M: Is that so? I was sure you two knew each other. M: Is there something we can do for you, good sir? NPC: Oh, what a lovely young lady! I was just telling this kind soul a story. M: Really? What's troubling you? NPC: Well, I was thinking of going to daily prayer, but my leg's been acting up and I can't walk properly. M: How terrible! That's no good at all. May I be of assistance? M: I'd be happy to lend a shoulder and escort you to the chapel. NPC: Would you? Oh, I'd be most grateful to you. Thank the goddess for sending this young lady to me today! M: We'll need your help too, Professor. Here, sir, take my arm. M: Splendid work, Professor. He really seemed to appreciate our assistance.

>We did a good deed.

M: I don't think I did anything particularly deserving of praise. I'm just happy that I could help.

>You helped me out too.

M: You did a great job cheering him up on your own!

M: Putting a smile on someone's face always seems to brighten up the day. M: Is something wrong? You're giving me a strange look.

>How did you know something was bothering him?

M: Oh. Hmm... How should I put this... M: I suppose it's just second nature to me.

>What do you mean?

M: It's difficult to describe, but I can usually tell when someone is worried about something. M: Back there, I could tell that both you and the old man were in distress. M: I spent a good amount of my life living in the church. Maybe that's why I'm so good at identifying these things?

>Living in the church?

>That's news to me.

M: Did I not mention that before? M: I spent nearly 10 years of my life in the church of Faerghus. M: Many came to us with their troubles. M: In my own time of need, I once ran to the church myself, and they helped me. M: May I share something with you, Professor? It's about a dream of mine.

>What is your dream?

M: I'd like to work in the church one day. I want to be like the priest who helped me. M: Never mind. It's not a very realistic dream. Please, forget I said anything. M: If I were someone else, perhaps a commoner without a Crest or stature, maybe things would be different. M: It's a bit sad, but...this is the way things have to be. M: After all, only the goddess can decide our fates.

——————————————————————————————

a

M: Do you have a moment, Professor? I need to speak with you. M: Thank you so much. This is what I wanted to address... M: This letter from my adoptive father just arrived.

>Adoptive father?

M: Oh! Have I not mentioned him? He's the reason I first came to the Officers Academy. M: He's also the one who dragged me from the church where I was living just so he could use my Crest.

>I don't understand...

M: My Crest does not yet belong to a house, so he plans to use it as leverage to marry into the nobility. M: He's a very greedy man who was a roving merchant before adopting me, but now he's in the capital. M: This letter says that he's finally arranged to marry me off to a wealthy noble. M: I know he's just thinking of himself, but can't he see that this isn't a priority when we're at war?

>My thoughts exactly.

>Maybe the war has pushed him to this?

M: I suppose it's possible. He may be worried about carrying on his bloodline, but... M: Ugh! I don't know what to do about this proposal!

>Will you accept?

M: I can't see any way around it, so I fear that I must... M: I just don't want to let go of the life that I've made for myself. M: I know it's not what my heart wants, but I don't have the strength to say no.

>What does your heart want?

M: I believe I've mentioned this before, but I want to work in service of the church. M: Well, I suppose it doesn't necessarily have to be the church, but I want to help those in need. M: If I were to marry a noble, I think it would be difficult to realize that dream...

>Why can't you decline?

M: It's just... I've always allowed myself to follow the whims of those above me. M: I convinced myself that everything in life was at the will of the goddess. I was blind to reality. M: I believed it was her will to both pull me from the church and guide me to the Officers Academy. M: The decision to enter this war was the first time I acted of my own free will. M: My adoptive father opposed this decision, but I somehow managed to convince him. M: Still, I couldn't free myself of him completely. This letter is proof of that. M: It's not that I'm scared of him, but there is something that worries me...

>Severing your ties?

M: Ah! I knew you'd understand, Professor. M: I've sat down to write a reply several times, but I can't muster up the courage, or the words. M: I was hoping you could provide me with the encouragement I need!

>Why reply at all?

M: If I don't, he'll go ahead with the arrangement!

M: I suppose I must aim toward cutting him out of my life completely...

>You can't just give up on your dreams.

M: That's a very good point! We're only given one life, so we must do all we can to pursue our happiness!

M: OK! I think that may have been just the push I was looking for! M: I'll tell him the truth. That I've found a life worth pursuing and I must decline the proposal! M: Maybe I should tell him I've fallen for someone else?

>Fallen for someone else?

>Who might that be?

M: Why, it's you, Professor! Isn't that obvious?

>Excuse me?

>I wouldn't say "obvious"...

M: I'm just teasing! M: Now, I'm off to write this letter and stand my ground. Thank you for your encouragement!

——————————————————————————————

s

M: There you are! I apologize for the short notice, but I'm so glad you could make it! M: I'm sure you're very busy, being the hero of Fódlan and all.

>Yes, very busy.

M: Then I'm afraid that what I'm about to ask may come at an inopportune time.

>I have some time.

M: What a relief! I have to ask you something, but I'd hate to inconvenience you!

M: Do you mind hearing me out?

>I'll listen.

>I'd be happy to.

M: Ah! Great! Here it is... M: I'm going to Fhirdiad to meet with my adoptive father, and I'd like you to accompany me.

>What for?

>Is it necessary for you to go?

M: I feel the need to set things straight with him in my own way. M: I want proper closure. I'm going to tell him face-to- face that this is farewell. M: I've already decided exactly what I'm going to say. M: I'm choosing to live my life how I want, in pursuit of my own happiness. I need you to accept that. M: I'm in charge of my own destiny. Not you, not anyone else. Just me. M: Ah... I've waited so long to say all that.

>Why do you need me to accompany you?

M: That's a very good question... Where do I start? M: Remember when I teased that I'd fallen for you? M: The truth is...that wasn't entirely in jest. I fell for you some time ago. In fact, I'd very much like to spend my life with you. M: Of course, that's only if you'll have me...

>I had something similar in mind.

M: Oh my goodness!

>I love you, Mercedes. Let's get married.

M: Yes! Let's! You've no idea what this means to me. This may be the happiest I've ever been! M: I'm so glad I could finally express my feelings. Now we can live the rest of our lives together! M: To think, I was able to choose this path of my own volition, and now I get to walk it with you! M: Should one person be allowed this much happiness? M: But still, you're only given one life. Are you sure you want to spend it with me? M: I may be quite demanding at times as I intend on pursuing my dreams. M: I want to help those in need, wherever they may be. And I won't give up on that.

>I'll always support you.

M: I thought that's what you might say! M: Perhaps that's why I fell for you. It's just the way you are. M: All right, let's be off! It's no short journey to Fhirdiad. M: Oh, something to note...

>Yes?

M: You should know that I can be quite scatterbrained. And clumsy... M: But I will do everything in my power to help and support you too, whatever you may need! M: What a wonderful life we will lead together...

——————————————————————————————

paired endings

Byleth announced his/her marriage to Mercedes shortly after becoming leader of the United Kingdom of Fódlan. Mercedes ensured that Fódlan paid special attention, in its rebuilding effort, to folks who had lost jobs and to children who had lost their families due to the war. The couple was said to mingle frequently among the people, working up a sweat right alongside them. They happily spent their lives ushering in a new era.

Byleth announced his/her marriage to Mercedes shortly after being named archbishop of the Church of Seiros. Mercedes took on duties as a cleric and through that work ensured that the church offered special support to children who had lost their families due to the war. The couple was said to mingle frequently among the people, working up a sweat right alongside them. They happily spent their lives ushering in a new era.

Byleth and Mercedes wed in haste, that they might better focus on their battle against those who slither in the dark. The struggle was long and arduous, but their passionate love supported them through it. When at last the fight was done, they moved to a small village in the Faerghus region and started an orphanage. There they took in and raised children who had lost their families in the war, regardless of their blood or circumstances of birth. It is said that Mercedes was never happier than when she was surrounded by smiling children, free of all worry.

——————————————————————————————

night of the ball

M: Why, Professor! I was wondering where you ran off to. M: I searched the entire floor but couldn't find you anywhere. M: Tired, are we? I can tell by that look on your face. It must be exhausting being so popular, huh?

>I'm exhausted...

M: I can imagine. Shall we take a break here, then? M: Say, Professor. Have you heard the legend of the Goddess Tower? M: They say that if two people exchange a vow here, the goddess herself will fulfill it.

>I've never heard that before.

M: Well, that simply won't do. You'll fall behind if you can't keep up with your students!

>I think I recall such a story.

M: Ah, so even you have heard that one. The stories must travel far.

M: Many young couples come here in private, all thanks to that legend. M: They make promises to stay together forever. Things like that. M: I actually saw a man invite a lady to join him at the tower while on my way here.

M: It's rather romantic, don't you think?

>I think so.

M: Indeed.

>I disagree.

M: Really? You're a strange one, Professor.

M: Though, just because two people share a promise, that doesn't guarantee they'll be together forever. M: You've noticed many nobles at the academy, right? They very rarely have the freedom to choose their own partners. M: Yet still they wish to stay together. Maybe that's why they pray to the goddess. M: Are you waiting on anyone, Professor?

>No, there's no one.

M: What a relief. I was afraid that I was keeping you.

>I was waiting for you.

M: Oh my. Even though we didn't make plans to meet? You're a charmer, aren't you?

M: Ah! I almost forgot why I came looking for you! M: I was wondering if you'd like to dance with me. M: It's just so loud in the reception hall though. I think I'd rather stay here with you... M: If that's all right with you, Professor. M: Thank you. I appreciate it.

[catgluue]

The Price of Life Chapter Three

So I’ve sent this to be Beta’d but I’m frankly too excited to wait so happy birthday to you, tumblr. I reserve the right to make changes, such as when I discover tumblr formatting has eaten all my italics. 

Anyway this was fun to write and I hope you all enjoy it.

Read on A03

----

“I'm bored.”

“Well that makes two of us,” Havoc deadpanned, scrubbing at his eyes with one hand. It was a little after three in the morning and they were situated outside Rebecca's hospital room. It was a fairly unconventional birth plan, with he and Riza taking it in turns to sit with Rebecca, ostensibly so they each could rest but realistically so they could switch out before she got too annoyed with either of them. Their five year old, Marcus, was at Mustang's for the night, but wherever Riza went her shadow was sure to follow. And her shadow happened to be twelve and mouthy.

“Did I take this long to be born?” Mae wanted to know, yawning hugely. She had, of course, been given the choice to stay home but true to form she wanted to be where the action was. Havoc loved the kid to death but he'd forgotten how abysmally obnoxious tweens could be. A while back he'd joked to Mustang that Mae was now the same age that Edward Elric has been when he'd been recruited into the military. Far from finding this funny, the General had gone white as a sheet and spent half an hour locked in his office on the phone with his head in his hands and Riza glaring daggers at Jean.

It had not been a pleasant afternoon.

“No idea,” he said. “I mean, I wasn't there. I know you also decided to show up sometime after midnight and your Aunt Rebecca was up all night waiting for you, so you definitely owe her one.”

“What about-” she began, sitting straighter in her chair, before pausing as though thinking through what she was about to say. “Was anyone else there apart from Aunt Becca?”

He grinned tiredly. “Oh I think someone else might have showed up,” he said, a hand on his chin. “What was that guy's name? Troy?”

“Ha ha.”

“I think you maybe met him once or twice. Dark-haired fellow, lots of stars on his jacket? Thinks you're cool for some reason?”

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “Forget I asked.”

They were quiet for a moment under the fluorescent lights of the hallway. Havoc knew well that hospitals were places apart from time; the lights and people were unchanging. Well, mostly unchanging, he thought, as he spied Breda walking up the hall juggling three styrofoam cups.

“I told you to stay home,” Jean said, accepting the cup which turned out to be full of coffee.

“Yeah well,” Breda said with a shrug. “There was nothing good on the radio.” He handed a cup to Mae, who sniffed it suspiciously. “Black coffee's your drink, right?”

“Yeah but hot chocolate is fine too,” Mae told him, taking a sip. “Uncle Breda were you there when I was born?” Breda shook his head no, settling into a chair on her other side.

“Nah we missed the action. I got to see you a little while after though, you were all pink and tiny and cute. I wonder what happened?” Mae made a face at him, and he nudged her with an elbow playfully. She wasn’t spoiled exactly - Hawkeye would never let that happen - but she had grown up with an abundance of Uncles who were inclined to indulge her every whim until such a time as they’d been sat down by their commanding officer and ordered to desist. (Mae’s Aunt Becca flatly refused a similar order.)

Mustang, for all that he clearly loved the little girl, could be surprisingly stern when he had to, a surprising aspect of their odd arrangement that Jean found made him respect the man even more. It was easy to be a kid’s pal, to take them to the zoo and buy them gifts. It was harder to make them do their homework, or their chores, or  eat their vegetables.

“Uncle Breda was almost as afraid of you as he is of dogs,” Havoc confided. “Remember when we sat you down with a pillow and made you hold her?”

“One of the more terrifying experiences of my life, and I helped stage a coup,” Haymans remarked. “You hated me, wouldn't stop screaming until Havoc here took you back. Same thing with Fuery. I think babies can smell fear or something.”

“Maybe you just took some getting used to,” Mae remarked primly, setting her cup down and stretching. The door opened and a tired-looking Riza emerged, amid what sounded like Rebecca threatening the doctor with surprising vigor and creativity for a woman who had been in labor for something like six hours already.

“You're up, Jean,” Hawkeye told him, hauling him to his feet before he had the chance to process what she meant. “I think it's finally time for the big event.” he froze, unbelieving that their long wait was about to pay off and he was about to become a father for the second time. Hawkeye saw his dazed expression and chuckled softly.

“It helps if you open the door,” Mae supplied helpfully, reaching over to pluck the coffee from his hands before he spilled it.

“Can it, squirt,” he said without any real venom, and walked past Riza into the delivery room.

Rebecca looked beautiful: even sweaty and frizzy and tired as she was, Jean didn’t think he’d ever seen someone so radiant. Of course she was also screaming a string of curses so apart from being beautiful she was also terrifying . Like a vengeful goddess or something, he mused. She caught him looking and beckoned him over with the hand not clutching one of the nurses’ arms.

“JEAN HAVOC STOP STARING AT ME AND GET OVER HERE SO I CAN BREAK ALL THE BONES IN YOUR FING-AAAGH!!”

He did as he was told, offering a hand that she clung to painfully.

“You’re doing so well,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice.

“I,” she panted, “am doing a FANTASTIC job.”

“That’s what I meant to say,” he told her. “Can’t be long now right?” He directed this at the doctor, though Rebecca’s ensuing yell of expletives let him know she’d taken it personally.

“All right, Rebecca,” the nurse said after a glance under the sheet that covered her. “It’s time to push.” Havoc felt himself go clammy at the thought, and he brushed a hand across Rebecca’s forehead tenderly.

“You,” he told her, “Are the best baby-haver in history. Nobody pops em out like you can. You’re crushing it.” She grinned wearily, and despite her myriad of threats he could see the genuine affection in her eyes as she squeezed his hand more gently this time.  

“This kind of blind adoration is exactly why I keep you around. Now don’t you dare look away, if I have to witness this then so do you.”

It was a boy.

-x-

“Good boy, Taisa! Here, you throw it this time, Mae, you can throw further than I can.” The bushy-haired boy handed the frisbee to the dark-haired girl, who turned, aimed, and threw in one smooth motion.

Jean watched them fondly. He’d been out with Marcus, since Riza and Rebecca had a standing appointment to have lunch together on Saturday afternoons, and Becca had brought the baby. They’d gotten ice cream and were walking through the park when they’d run into Mustang and Mae, who coincidentally alsohad a standing appointment to have lunch together on Saturday afternoons. He’d just assumed she tagged along with her mom and Becca on those occasions but he had to admit it was the perfect opportunity for Mustang to have some quality time with his bodyguard’s kid. It had been Marcus to point them out first, and Havoc had looked to see the General seated on a park bench, chuckling at normally reserved Mae animatedly telling a story that seemed to involve an explosion.

Seeing them side by side really highlighted the passing of time; he remembered when Mae was seven and would play in this same park with Black Hayate, before he passed on to Good Boy Heaven. Mae and Riza had both been inconsolable, and the General had made sure that Hayate was promoted two ranks posthumously and given a proper sendoff befitting his station. Now Mae was fourteen, long-limbed and getting taller almost by the minute.

“I can't believe how big they're getting,” Havoc remarked, watching Mae and Marcus take turns throwing the frisbee for Taisa, one of the late great Black Hayate’s children.

“Do you know she came to me the other day and asked me how to get a boy in her class to notice her?” Roy said, pushing his hair off his face in an exasperated gesture while Havoc barked out a laugh.

“Oh man, I'm guessing you weren't ready for that kind of a talk, huh boss?”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“So what did you tell her?” Now he thought about it, Jean realized that even in his capacity as favorite uncle (or so he liked to believe) he wasn't ready for Mae to start dating either. She’d always been the bookish type, on the quiet side with people she didn’t know well. He had just assumed they wouldn’t have to worry about boys for years yet. Mustang shrugged.

“I was so surprised I just told her to be herself and that any boy who didn't notice her wasn't worth her time.”

“Well that seems like solid advice to me,” Jean told him. A little boring, but he doubted he’d have been able to come up with anything better when put on the spot like that.

“I'm glad you think so; Mae rolled her eyes and said never mind, she'd just go look through Aunt Becca's magazines for actual advice and thanks for nothing,” Roy said bitterly, though he was clearly amused.

Now that he thought about it, Havoc could recall a day last week when Mae had come over and talked to her aunt in hushed tones. At a certain point there had been a peal of laughter and his wife crowing that finally a Hawkeye wanted to look through trashy periodicals with her. He had avoided the kitchen after that and so didn’t hear anything else.

“Ouch. Did you tell Hawkeye?” Roy looked at him in surprise.

“Well no, Mae asked me not to.”

“So you're more afraid of the wrath of a teenage girl than the wrath of Riza Hawkeye, your trusted adjutant and infamous sharpshooter,” he said flatly. “Interesting perspective.”

“It's not like that. If I want Mae to continue trusting me, I need to prove myself worthy of that trust. She should be able to come to me with questions, or things she might not want to talk to her mother about. The Captain understands this.” Of course , Havoc thought. As usual, he was three steps and a nonverbal conversation behind Mustang and Hawkeye. They would have talked about this, probably years ago – probably before Mae herself was even able to talk. They were as much of one mind about Mae's upbringing as they were about anything else.

“Sounds like solid reasoning to me.”

“Besides, if I told Hawkeye there was a boy at school not giving her daughter the time of day you know she’d find a way to show up and ‘accidentally’ let slip how many guns she keeps on her person,” he said cheerfully and Havoc had to admit that he was probably not all that far from the truth.

-x-

The office was filled with the sound of last minute paperwork being gathered up, and Mae's soft begging at the General's desk. It was almost quitting time on a Friday and Hawkeye was delivering some documents while her daughter did her best to cajole her mother's senior officer.

“Please, please please please,

“I can't sign this; I'm not your legal guardian,” Mustang deadpanned, glancing at the final paper she had placed on his desk.

“But you're practically the most important man in Amestris, after the Fuhrer,” Mae reasoned, trying to hand him a pen as he crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Go try this on him, then: you'll probably have better luck.” Mae rolled her eyes at the suggestion.

“He'll make me play him for it and I can never beat him.”

“Well, I can't help you either. Have you even asked your mother?” the General asked with a shrug.

“You know she'll never say yes, she always changes the subject when I ask about alchemy. It's just a short term course and I'm doing really well in school this year,” she explained. “I thought you'd understand.” This child of the military really was getting to be a master manipulator, Havoc thought, watching as she batted large amber eyes at Mustang. Sure she lacked subtlety but she knew how to play Roy like a fiddle. She could ask for the moon and he'd find a way to bring it down for her.

“Look Mae,” he said slowly, as though choosing his words carefully, “I know you might think that alchemy is a glamorous profession, but it's not easy. It's a lot of hard work. Most alchemists aren't up to the task of working for the state and there's not much money without government funding.” This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Mae's eyes flashed and she squared her shoulders.

“I know I'm not some kind of prodigy like you or Uncle Ed but I don't want to do anything flashy. I want to go to Xing and study with Uncle Al and Aunt May,” she explained. “I've been reading through some of your books and medical alchemy is really cool.”

“When the hell did you read any of my books?” he demanded, and she shrugged, looking slightly guilty.

“Sometimes I borrow them. I always bring them back though. I've been looking through them for years, and I've done a few transmutations. Little ones,” she admitted. Mustang leaned his chin on his hand lazily, regarding Mae as he might look at a fascinating equation.

“Have you? That's actually pretty advanced, you know.”

She blinked, obviously not expecting praise. “Really?”

“You must have an aptitude for it.”

“I know,” she looked around before lowering her voice. “I know mom's father was an alchemist. I think that's maybe why she doesn't want me learning it.”

“Could be,” he said in his most bland, I-know-nothing-whatsoever-about-this-matter voice.

“But I thought you might understand why... why I'm so interested in it.”

“I can't sign the permission slip for you,” he repeated. “Do you know what would happen to me if your mom found out? Terrible things, unspeakable things. Remember the time I got you roller skates before she thought you were ready?” Havoc winced – he was sure none of them would ever forget the roller skate incident.

“Will you – will you talk to her then?”

“And what makes you think that would help?” Mae rolled her eyes.

“She listens to you, Sir. She might not act like it but you should hear her sometimes, it's all “General this” and “General that”, I think she really respects your opinion.” Flattery would get her everywhere, it seemed, as Mustang sat up straighter and ran a hand through his hair, as the Captain reentered the room.

“Follow my lead,” he muttered, and she nodded. “Evening Major, what do you have planned on this beautiful Friday night?” Riza lifted an eyebrow at his flowery tone, a smile playing around her mouth.

“Well it’s Mae’s turn to cook, so I thought I might do some reading,” she answered lightly.

“Oh that's unfortunate, you see I was planning on sweeping her off her feet for a night on the town. Since you seem to be delighted by the prospect of not cooking I suppose you could join us, if that's all right with you of course madam,” this was directed at Mae, who pretended to consider. Havoc started slowly gathering his things, interested to see how this would play out.

“I guess she can come, if she promises not to talk too much.”

“Yes of course, leave those chatterbox tendencies at home and we've got a deal,” Roy said, gazing at Riza evenly over his hands, steepled before him on the desk.

“I think I can agree to that,” Riza said, with another of her barely perceivable smiles that nonetheless seemed to light up her whole face.

“Great,” the General said. “It's a date.”

“Oh shoot!” Mae exclaimed, snatching up her school book - without the form, which she swept into the General's lap seemingly by accident. “I forgot I told Aunt Rebecca I would babysit for her tonight! Oh how terrible, I suppose you'll have to just go without me.” Jean thought that should he want to, he could have knocked Roy over with a feather, while Riza just gave her daughter a small wave, face almost suspiciously bland.

“Well if you promised. We'll miss you though.”

“You'll manage. By mom, bye Sir,” Mae chirped, turning to fall into step with Havoc, who had paused after donning his jacket.

“You realize we're not actually going anywhere,” he said quietly as she took one of his massive binders filled with cases he needed to review before Monday without being asked.

“Keep walking, Uncle Havoc,” she hissed.

“What's in it for me?”

“Free babysitting for a month.”

“Two.”

“One and I'll throw in an overnight trip.”

“Deal,” he said. They'd been wanting to take a weekend off to see Falman in Briggs for a while. “And well played,” he added with a nod.

“Thank you, I learn from the best. What's for dinner?” Hardened con artist and all, she was still a teenager who was somehow constantly hungry. He reached out and ruffled her shoulder length black hair and she responded by ducking away from him and smoothing it back down with a motion that he’d seen his superior officer make a million times.

-x-

BANG BANG BANG

Havoc almost jumped out of his seat at the knocking at the door. It was sometime after eight and dark outside. He picked up his sidearm off the mantle and inched towards the door carefully, before snatching the handle and wrenching it open. Springing back, he brought the gun up and then back down almost as quickly when he saw who it was. Mae Hawkeye, face red and wet with tears, was standing on his doorstep with wide eyes on his gun.

“You scared me,” he explained, dropping his weapon and clicking the safety back on. “What's up, kiddo? Everything ok?” Everything was clearly not okay but everything he knew about teenagers and this teenager in particularly told him to tread lightly. She looked like a frightened animal, and he kept his distance lest she bolt.

“Hey,” she sniffed, looking around him into the empty living room. “Is Aunt Rebecca here?” Great, he thought, girl stuff. Perfect. This was much better than the quiet hour alone with a book and a scotch he'd been anticipating. He poured the scotch anyway, thinking he'd need it.

“She took the boys for ice cream,” he said. “Can, uh, can I make you some tea?” Mae swept by him, dropping a suspiciously large bag on the floor near the coat rack with a thunk . Sounded like a couple changes of clothes and about five books, he estimated. This was serious.

“Sure,” she said, sinking into one of the armchairs and putting her head in her hands. Jean closed the door and headed to the kitchen to switch the kettle on, and by the time he came back she was sitting upright, having dried her face and smoothed her hair back. She looked young, and she was wearing an expression he knew all too well.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, and she gave him a withering stare that was ironically all Hawkeye, considering what she was probably mad about.

“I can't,” she said in a long-suffering tone. “I mean, I just, I had a fight with mom and I needed to get out.”

“Right,” he said, leaning back and taking a sip of scotch. “Let me guess, girl stuff?” Mae snorted.

“You couldn't even begin to imagine.”

“Right, of course not,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. When did she get so needlessly dramatic? She certainly didn't get that particular trait from her mother.

She sat on the edge of the couch, arms tightly crossed. He sat next to her and playfully bumped her elbow with one of his.

“Hey come on, you guys usually get along great. Whatever you were fighting about can’t have been that bad.”

“Oh yes it can,” Mae hissed.

“Did she return a book to the library you weren’t finished with yet?” He asked, recalling the source of a previous rift. Mae had a habit of not using bookmarks, claiming to always remember her page, and Riza had a habit of fastidiously following rules, such as the rule that library books could only be borrowed for a fortnight at a time. It was surprising the mistake didn’t happen more often, when you thought about it.

“She’s a liar,” Mae said softly and Havoc blinked at this. Riza Hawkeye was honest to the point of (always tactful) bluntness at times. Sure she could keep a secret when she had to but usually only … when she had to…

He kept his expression carefully neutral.

“It’s not my business,” he told her, hoping this would discourage her from fully revealing the cause of their argument, “But if you caught her in a fib it was probably for good reason.”

“It wasn’t a fib, she’s been lying to me since I was born,” Mae spat bitterly. “And I gave her the chance to finally come clean but she just kept up the lie, like I’m stupid —“

“No one could ever accuse you of being stupid,” he told her. And it was true, she had taken to her alchemy lessons like a fish to water. At fifteen she was at the top of her class and rapidly outpacing the curriculum available. He’d once heard Mustang quietly say to Hawkeye that he’d been looking into finding a private tutor in Central, but he had been immediately shut down by one of her withering stares that seemed to speak volumes to Roy. Havoc couldn’t see why - the girl was a natural, let her do the thing she was clearly great at. “You know how protective your mom can be. Maybe this lie, that I have no knowledge of and is not my business, was for your own good when you were younger. She doesn’t realize how fast you’ve grown up.”

“She still should tell me the truth.”

“You know, your mom’s a person too,” he told her gently, well aware that he was divulging one of the biggest secrets of parentkind. “Have you considered that maybe, uh, whatever it is, is a sensitive topic for her too? It’s probably not a fun secret to keep. I bet you she wishes she doesn’t have to.”

Mae scrubbed the back of her hand across her eyes.

“Thank you, Uncle Havoc. I’m gonna go wash my face.” She headed off down the hall and he breathed a sigh of relief, glad that playing dumb had worked. He reached for his scotch and took a long drink.

Another knock, and Havoc set down his glass in annoyance, before opening the door. It was Riza, of course, looking world-weary and almost like she'd been crying. Jean had known Riza for, geez, at least twenty years now. He didn't think he'd ever seen her cry.

“Hey. Is my daughter here?”

Wordlessly, Havoc opened the door and she walked past him, setting her purse on the coffee table heavily. The tea kettle started to sing in the kitchen and he hastened to take if off the heat, bringing Riza a cup of chamomile without asking.

“Just wait until yours are teenagers,” she said wryly, accepting the mug from him.

“Well when they are, and they run out during an argument, I'll know to go look for them at your place,” he said, and found that despite his joking tone he meant it. This earned him a sad little smile.

“It'll be nice to be the fun aunt for once,” she said softly. “People always say parenting is hard, but no one ever tells you it can be so heartbreaking.” She shook her head slowly. “I didn't mean that. Not exactly.”

“I know what you mean,” Havoc assured her. He hated having arguments with his kids, even if it was just little stuff right now, like whether or not one should jump on the bed. Mae hadn't come out with it, but he could guess what they'd been fighting about.

“I'm the one who ran out,” she confessed. Havoc inched closer to the couch and put what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Not now, but this morning. I was going in to work early and she kept asking me about – well it doesn't matter what. I owe her an answer but I brushed her off.”

“Whatever it is, I'm sure it's ...complicated,” Jean said delicately. Her hand came up briefly to rest on his.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Mom?” came a small voice from the hallway. It was of course Mae, face freshly scrubbed, looking remorseful, yet with a familiar glint of determination in her eyes. “Let's go home,” she said. Riza took a deep breath, and stood up.

“Good idea.”

He’d thought about using Rebecca as a go between to find out the result of this argument, but in the end decided against it. As he’d told Mae, it really wasn’t his business, even though he was desperately curious to find out whether she’d been told of her true parentage. But as it happened, there was no espionage necessary; Hawkeye approached him the next day while he was making coffee in the office.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For whatever you said to Mae about me.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” he said. “I just ah, told her that whatever it was, the situation isn’t ideal for you either.”

“She said that whenever I was ready to … discuss the subject we were arguing over, she would like to hear it.” Riza shrugged. “Sometimes being a parent is a wretch, but then they do something mature and it was all worth it.”

“She’s a great kid,” Jean told Riza solemnly. “You did a good job there.” She smiled a little sadly and he thought he saw her eyes flick to the front of the room, just for a second.

“Oh, you know,” she said softly. “It takes a village.”

-x-

With Grumman retiring and General Mustang moving into his old office, their team was all but disbanded. It meant promotions and pay raises all around, of course, and Havoc was pleased to finally be given his own unit, but this last afternoon lazily packing up the office was bittersweet. He, Breda, and Fuery lingered, chatting and arguing over pens, while Roy finished some paperwork. Colonel Hawkeye had been conspicuously absent, a fact none of them had mentioned due to the stormclouds that had immediately gathered over the Flame Alchemist’s head when one of the subordinates had asked.

The door flew open, and sixteen-year-old Mae stormed in and directly up to the large desk, the spitting image of her mother in a rage. Roy looked up, did a double take, and sighed.

“Oh hell,” he began. “Mae-”

“Don’t you even-” she spat, crossing her arms over her chest. “You fired my mother - how could you possibly-”

Jean exchanged panicked glances with Breda and Fuery. This was a situation he could never have foreseen - even in his paperwork-induced stress dreams he was the one being fired, never Hawkeye. He couldn’t say he really blamed Mae for being upset; he personally was going to be having a word with his superior officer the moment the kid left, insubordination be damned. Fire Hawkeye? Had the General lost his mind, he wouldn’t last two weeks without her watching his back! Mustang was massaging his temples as though he felt a headache coming on.

“She shouldn’t be telling you that kind of thing,” he muttered, which was of course the wrong thing to say.

“She didn’t tell me anything, I know what termination paperwork is, and I know your signature!”

Havoc found himself in the unique position of both wanting to stay and see the pending Fuhrer of Amestris be torn a new one by a teenaged girl and simultaneously wanting to be nowhere near the impending firestorm that was undoubtedly going to take place. From Fuery and Breda’s shell-shocked expressions they were also frozen to where they stood.

“You know believe it or not I do have my reasons,” the General said, voice quiet. “And I am planning to enlighten you, despite the fact that I do not have to, but this is neither the time nor the place.”

“Oh save it,” Mae snapped, though the shaking in her voice told Jean that she was close to tears. He had no idea how Roy was still staring at her levelly; he would have crumbled if she’d used that tone on him. “You’re just a snake - all this time you’ve been pretending to care about us but now you’re getting promoted you’re suddenly too good-”

Behind the desk, Mustang’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, young lady,” he said carefully.

“Well then tell me!” She demanded, fists clenched at her side. None of them had ever seen her this upset with Roy before, and Havoc suddenly recalled Mustang, holding a baby while Edward Elric angrily asked him what Mae would think of him when she was older. He had never given it a second thought, assuming that Mae’s affection for the General meant that she didn’t harbor any resentment.

The tears in her eyes told him he’d been wrong.

From across the room Havoc noticed a few MPs peering into the office, looking for the source of the yelling, and he locked eyes with Fuery, who casually picked up one of his boxes and headed for the door, closing it behind him. Neither of the two at the desk seemed to notice.

“Look,” he said, changing tacks, “I’m almost done here, go wait outside and I’ll-”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Mae hissed, “You’re not my father, remember?” The dam broke. She dropped her head into her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. Roy reached out in what seemed to be an automatic gesture, pulling her into a hug, rubbing small circles into her back while she cried on his epaulets. When she finally pulled away, sniffling, he handed her a handkerchief and regarded her seriously.

“There’s a set of rules the military has in place,” he began, and Havoc and Breda were suddenly both very busy placing stacks of documents and books into the boxes, “that forbids romantic relationships between officers.”

“Oh,” was all Mae said.

“If evidence of fraternization is discovered, then depending on the rank of the officers involved and the seriousness of the infraction, then at the very least those officers don’t remain stationed in the same city. At worst they could be court-martialed.”

“I didn’t think-“

“I meant to discuss this with you,” he told her, rifling around in his desk. “Clearly I didn’t think you would find out when you did.” Whatever he’d pulled out of his desk elicited a gasp from Mae, and her whole demeanor suddenly shifted. Havoc was too busy minding his own business to catch a glimpse of the object, but he had a guess at what it could be, and why it meant Hawkeye couldn’t continue to work in the military.

“You know most people would start by asking someone on a date first,” Mae told him shakily. “How do you even know if she likes you?” she teased. Mustang had the grace to keep his expression neutral.

“I think she does. I could be wrong.”

Mae had taken the small box and was turning it over in her hands. “She’s pretty upset right now. Even if she didn’t tell me why, I could tell she was mad.”

“I jumped the gun,” he explained. “I was supposed to wait until after the inauguration. She’ll forgive me though. Will you?” Havoc fought the strong urge to run out of the large office, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, or do anything else to break the spell of the moment. He just continued to crouch, rifling aimlessly through the open drawer of his desk. Roy was clearly not asking for forgiveness for what had happened today and Mae, ever the clever one, could tell. It was a tense few moments before she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, choking back a sob.

“Of course,” she murmured, and pulled away with a grin. “You know if mom says yes then you’ll be my stepfather.”

There’s a long moment where Havoc realized he’d somehow gotten dust in his eye and it was wildly uncomfortable.

“No,” Roy said, considering. “I’ll be your dad.”

[shellheadtmarc]

Connections: Macready??

you just don’t know what can of worms you’ve opened, bc the fallout nonsense is like a mushroom:  y’all get to see the cute little toadstool that pops up above ground, meanwhile it’s this huge, ever-growing bullshit under the surface we (mercifully) keep in discord until it sometimes spills over.

so this is gonna get long, strap in.

okay.  let’s talk about tony’s relationship with robert joseph maccready: former mayor of little lamplight, ex-gunner, father, and tony’s emotional anchor in the commonwealth...and...everywhere else, at this point, as far as fallout 4 goes.

first things first, let’s clear up any lingering confusion here:  mac and tony are an item.  a thing.  a couple.  they do gross couple things and are sappy and disgusting and i literally hate them.  in fact, in tony’s fo4 companion verse overall, if there’s no shippy intention and mac was never romanced/picked up by a sosu or otherwise, tony directly defaults to his relationship there.  which is to say you usually get a tony that’s fairly settled and comfortable in that relationship and is usually out doing his own thing while mac’s doing his own thing, too.  at the end of the day, it’s home - wherever they’re calling home, typically fort hagen or sunshine tidings, i’m thinking - to mac that he’s going.

anyway, instead of doing a ~how they met~ retelling, lemme hit the major highlights in their relationship that haven’t necessarily been discussed at length so that they make sense.

+ when tony handed over caps (mac said two fifty, tony said two hundred, mac said deal) it wasn’t to hire a mercenary.  he didn’t think he needed one, didn’t want one, and thought mac would slow him down.  instead, it was for information about the gunners because he’d gotten jumped by them down the hill from fiddler’s green trailer estates (the overpass with the big windmill) a couple of days previously.  that was it.  that was all.  he’d inquired about the gunners in bunker hill and one of the caravan hands had pointed him to goodneighbor, telling him there was an ex-gunner merc working out of the third rail he could talk to.  he could have walked out of the third rail that night (the third rail, those not in the know, is a bar in an old subway station in goodneighbor) and not thought twice about it.  unfortunately (or fortunately) for tony, mac saw him win back his caps in a game of pool and decided to pretty much consider himself hired whether tony wanted it or not.

+ joke was on mac, however, tony has a thing about otherwise taking caps from people he considers needing them more.  he does a lot of work for free.  wasteland billionaire tony is not.  more days than not he’s barely got two caps to rub together - he prefers to barter.

+ that was and remains a big bone of contention between them.  it gets better, eventually tony turns the haggling of caps over to maccready and lets him do as he sees fit for the most part, but tony is focused on everything but money (i know, funny right) while mac is super honed in because he’s got a kid to look after - you don’t stop needing caps just because they’re not sick anymore.  part of this is because zetta gives birth to quinn (to be discussed in another one of these asks) and that throws tony fully into parent territory, and part is because while he doesn’t necessarily need a lot of caps to get by and it takes him a while to realize that just because he can scrape by with next to nothing, kids in the picture change that a whole hell of a lot.  the other is because there are just things you can’t make in the wasteland and need to pay for.  medical services are high on that scale - i don’t think tony expects stephen to patch him up for free, and croup manor and the fort hagen blood clinic need caps coming through to keep running.

+ there’s a rewrite of maccready’s quest, because tony moves too slowly for the affinity nonsense in that he’s got his own job to do in the commonwealth which isn’t about pinging affinity goalposts.  and because mac has a sick kid he’s gotta find a cure for now that can’t depend on tony being that slow.  mac decides to take on the waystation of gunners on his own.  tony wigs.  zetta tracks mac down.  tony shows up and it’s just...it’s a mess.  i’m pretty sure he probably tried to fire mac right then and there even if he never really hired him in the first place.

+ we see how well that worked.

+ part of the above is because tony had already caught feelings and tried to grind them into the dirt with a boot heel.  we also see how well that worked.  he hadn’t intended to stay in the commonwealth for any reason.

+ tony blurts out them feels at the worst time imaginable and - for someone with no shame - immediately wishes a hole would open up under him and swallow him whole.  unfortunately, he has to deal with that because there were no sinkholes opening that day.  things go weird and awkward for a while.  assuming - always assume (cough mala the smooch thread cough) - things go plan, things will get straightened out there in the dugout inn (another bar, this one in diamond city (fenway stadium)) when they finally both get their shit together.

+ another point  of note/point of contention is the fact that stephen and mac...don’t...really get along.  stephen’s weird, they butt heads a lot, it all stresses tony the fuck out.

+ to all of the above, tony was actually really leery about mac in the beginning.  and almost all of it has to do with the fact that tony knows what someone seeing an easy payday in him looks like.  the fact that mac, for whatever reasons of his own, sticks around when that doesn’t happen is what brings him around.

+ tony and maccready have a lot in common, as far as shared trauma goes.  they’ve both lost people they loved in horrible ways:  maccready’s wife lucy was killed by feral ghouls, his kid is sick with the new plague (a prewar disease that was also called the blue flu because of the blue boils someone would get with it - and is incredibly fatal) and may not make it.  they both have an ingrained fear of losing someone else they love.  the difference is, overall, mac has his shit together so much better than tony does.  he’s the mature one, if we’re being honest, he’s the one that knows how to handle the day to day domestic in the way that tony actually never really has, even now.  so while they share that, the fact is they’re different enough in the right ways to balance each other out pretty well.  mac is also leader material, but on a smaller scale.  the eventual plan is to get tony to semi-retire (never fully, he’ll never be able to not) and let mac oversee a settlement so tony can tinker.

+ third bone of contention - which isn’t really, it’s just a good example of prewar vs. wastelander mindset - is childrearing.  tony believes in letting kids be kids as long as they can be, especially with how shitty the wasteland can be - but the degree to which he feels that way about it isn’t feasible for the moment.  so it’s not really argument material more...you know you’re raising children of the corn, right?

+ mac absolutely calls tony a mungo, and tony has no idea what mungo means.  he really, honestly thinks mac’s pulling his fucking leg and that it doesn’t mean anything at all.

+ the rock thing:  tony mistakes a rock in the water for a mirelurk one time and maccready never lets it go.  but:  mac keeps handing tony rocks thinking he’s funny.  tony has a box full of said rocks.  he thinks nobody knows about it.  everyone knows about the rocks.  maccready has been known to send genuinely pretty rocks by way of apology when they fight and tony’s grumbling to himself in his lab (in the confines of fort hagen proper).

+ they don’t really agree about synths.  tony is very, very pro-synths are sentient beings and not property.  mac isn’t a fan.  it’s one of those subjects tony actively avoids - and after fallout 4′s main quest endgame has very little bearing on their actual daily lives, though he does do some tourist work for the railroad and doesn’t exactly hide it from mac.  

+ duncan (mac’s kid) finally does get brought to the commonwealth, for the record.

+ in the beginning tony is very much still...fly by the seat of his pants on a lot of things?  he doesn’t think twice about spending longer in the glowing sea than he’s given an estimate for (and with no way to reach him most of the time because of the radiation) or taking off to vegas on a whim (and taking a month to get back because he returns on a caravan full of people important to someone else in this little group to make sure they get there safely), but as time goes on and he settles in, he tends to do this less and less without warning.  he’ll probably never stop completely doing it - tony follows his nose and his gut and thinks it’s way better to ask for forgiveness than permission - but they get to be a rarer occurrence.

+ tony has never given mac a solid nickname.  you know, like pepper or rhodey or happy.  it attaches meaning to it, and for a long while he’s trying so damn hard to not get attached, and now...well, now it’s just a matter of how creative can he get with puns of mac’s name.  he’s also never once in his life called maccready anything but by maccready or a pun thereof.  no rj, no nothing.

+ they’re both rough and tumble - in the sense that playfighting ends with a higher than average amount of boo-boos.  they are, honest to god, children.  how many times has one or the other ended up with mud down their shirt who knows.  not me.  has tony had to have his jaw reset when a tickle fight goes wrong?  you betcha.  has one or the other punched the opposite in their sleep?  oh yeah.  

+ overall they’re very domestic?  like they have a life and it’s not always fun and exciting adventure entering prewar ruins and fighting super mutants or deathclaws or whatever.  a lot of it is day to day bullshit and being adults and chasing after the kids and fixing this generator or that water pump or herding binky the brahmin back into her pen because she got out again and their neighbor from three plots down won’t double check his gate and -  point being, the angst level is actually fairly low, there’s not as much upheaval as you might think, though they do have their fights and arguments about actual life things - less so about iron man, amazingly - and most of that’s down to the fact that they, literally, come from such different worlds, between tony being prewar and mac being a dyed in the wool waster.  like...it’s not a perfect coffee shop au relationship where everything is sparkles and rainbows, they function in a way real people do in that sometimes they don’t agree.  and sometimes they argue.  and they’ll make up and move on.  it’s not dramatic, but honestly i love them so much, i love that about them, how they function like a real couple.

ask about muse connections : accepting @ofspaceandmyth

[tfloosh]

Directions

Modern AU, let’s go!! Linkle and Zelda have fun at the club. Can you guess who they run into?

“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” Zelda asked.

“Of course I do,” Linkle rolled her eyes. “I have my compass app. We’re not going to get lost this time; I promise.”

“But you said this club was uptown,” Zelda frowned. “We’re close to Old Castletown.”

“Oh,” Linkle paused and looked at her phone. “Does it matter if you put north or south in the address?”

“Yes,” Zelda sighed. “It’s almost eleven, we’re not going to get there in time to get in now.”

“Well,” Linkle puffed her lip out. “We’ll just have to find a club in Old Castletown.”

“What?” Zelda had to hurry to catch up to Linkle, who had started walking determinedly in the wrong direction. “First of all, Old Castletown is this way.” Zelda steered her friend to the left. “And secondly, Old Castletown is, like, the sketchiest place to be on a Friday night.”

“We’ll be fine,” Linkle smiled, not letting Zelda’s logic dampen her optimism. “We have each other.”

“Maybe we should just go home,” Zelda glanced around. The street was far from empty, but the people walking them were a little older and a bit more eccentric looking than they were.

“We spent far too much time getting ready to just give up and go home,” Linkle protested. “All we have to do is go to the club playing the loudest music and dance. Now, come on.” She grabbed Zelda’s hand and started running toward Old Castletown, and Zelda couldn’t help but laugh along.

They finally ended up being let into a club that had a huge art nouveau style mural of the ancient Golden Goddesses on an outside wall. The Goron bouncer let them right in, saying there weren’t enough girls in the club already. Zelda had rolled her eyes at the excuse, but the line out front had been filled predominately with guys.

The inside wasn’t as packed as Zelda feared. There was plenty of room on the dance floor that Linkle immediately dragged her towards. They danced to a few song they couldn’t distinguish over the bombing bass before Zelda insisted she needed a gin and tonic.

A few men approached them at the bar, and the girls made game out of how creatively they could shoot them down. Bonus points were given for turning their pick-up line against them, and double points were awarded if the guy left after one rejection.

“Look at that guy over there,” Linkle yelled in Zelda’s ear over the loud music.

Zelda followed Linkle’s direction and noticed two very handsome men sitting at a table close to the dancefloor. The blond was laughing at something his dark-haired friend had said, and Zelda couldn’t help but be drawn into his smile.

“He’s really cute,” she said without realizing.

“Oh my gosh, which one?” Linkle smiled.

Zelda blushed, “The blond one.”

“Good,” a new voice said. “’Cause the other one’s taken.”

“I’m sorry,” Zelda turned to see who had spoken. A woman standing on the other side of Linkle smiled.

“Don’t be,” she waved her hand dismissively. “We brought Link out hoping he would meet some girls.”

“Wait, that’s Link?” Linkle said excitedly. “No way, we have to go talk to him!”

“What?” Zelda asked confused.

“Link is my cousin,” Linkle explained, grabbing Zelda’s hands in her excitement. “He must be back from college.”

“Yes,” the woman at the bar said. “My boyfriend and I decided to treat him to a night out. I’m Hilda by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Hilda,” Zelda reached over to shake Hilda’s hand while Linkle bounded over to ambush her cousin. “Do you need help with those drinks?”

“Yes, thank you,” she handed Zelda one of the beers she had ordered, and they headed toward the table. Zelda watched as Hilda sat next to her boyfriend and handed him the extra drink she was holding, and Zelda realized with a jolt that she must be holding Link’s drink. Hilda’s red eyes sparkled mischievously, and Zelda blushed as she sat next to Link and handed him his beer.

“And this is my roommate, Zelda,” Linkle added to her babbling. “I wouldn’t have survived freshman year without her.”

“I’m surprised you could keep your own head on straight, let alone Linkle’s,” Link chuckled as he glanced at Zelda. “I’m sorry you had to suffer through that for two semesters.”

“Hey!” Linkle frowned and started swatting at Link across the table.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed, and Zelda thought she liked the sound more than was normal. “It’s nice to meet you Zelda.”

“You too, Link.” She hid her blush by taking a drink.

“Ravio, I want to dance,” Hilda said suddenly, grabbing her boyfriend’s hand and pulling him out of his seat.

“Ooo, me too,” Linkle jumped out of her chair. “I love this song.”

They quickly disappeared in the crowd on the dance floor, leaving Link and Zelda alone.

“So, Linkle said you were away for college?” Zelda asked hoping a conversation would make the encounter less awkward.”

“Yeah, I go to Kakariko Tech,” he said.

Zelda shook her head, “To think I’m fraternizing with the enemy. It’s a good thing you’re cute.” She didn’t know what made her say that. Stupid gin and tonic.

“Hyrule U?” he asked.

“Sworn defender,” she mimicked one of the university traditions with a mock salute.

“Yeah, I needed to get out of the city after high school,” he explained. “Luckily, Ravio was going to come with me so I wouldn’t be all on my own.”

“I would have loved to leave the city,” Zelda smiled wistfully. “My parents smother me a bit too much, only child and all that. But Hyrule U has the better law school, so I thought it would look better if I got all my pre-reqs here.”

“Understandable,” Link nodded and took a drink. “K Tech has the better architecture program, so I get it. It also helped that it was a touch cheaper. I have a younger sister that’s going to graduate from high school next year, so my parents are happy to save money wherever they can.”

“So what are you planning to do with architecture?” Zelda asked, leaning closer without realizing.

“Everyone expects me to say churches or museums,” Link rolled his eyes. “But there’s real money in designing affordable and efficient starter homes for first-time home owners.”

“That is very true,” Zelda nodded. “People like to say that our generation won’t be able to afford a home like our parents did. Yours is a noble pursuit to me.”

“Plus I like designing houses,” he smiled back. “There’s something about all the possibilities, you know, all the different ways you can make a house a home that I just love. So win-win.”

Zelda loved the look Link had in his eye. It was always amazing to watch someone speak about something they were passionate about.

“Do you want to go somewhere we can talk without yelling?” she asked on a whim. She was never this forward, but there was something about Link that made her want to talk to him for hours.

“Yeah,” Link immediately stood and held out his hand to help Zelda do the same. “I know this great twenty-four hour diner not too far from here.” He sent a quick text to Hilda and Linkle to let them know where they were going before leading her out of the club. He didn’t let go of her hand until they reached the diner, much to Zelda’s delight.

“So what do you want to do with a law degree?” Link asked as they slid themselves into a booth by the window.

“I want to work in a district attorney’s office,” she said cupping her hands around the warm coffee mug in front of her. “When a defendant can’t afford their own attorney, the court provides one for them, free of charge, and I thought, why can’t that be me? It’s not the most high paying job for a lawyer, but my parents are loaded, so that wouldn’t matter to me, and I would be helping people who really need it.”

Link nodded as food appeared before them, “I thought you would say something like that. You seem like someone who wouldn’t stand by when they saw injustices happening to others.”

“Yup,” she smiled and picked up some of the fries she didn’t remember ordering. “Combine that with a high school obsession with CSI and courtroom TV dramas, and you get pre-law Zelda.”

“Well I’m glad to have met pre-law Zelda,” Link held up his drink in a toast.

“Likewise, future architect Link,” she raised her glass to clink them together just as her phone started buzzing.

“It’s Linkle,” she told Link before answering it.

“Zelda, where are you?!” Linkle yelled from the other end of the line.

“I’m with Link at a twenty-four hour diner a couple of blocks away,” she said, holding the phone a good six inches away from her ear.

“HA!” Linkle cheered. “And you wanted to go home early. How bad is my sense of direction now?”

“I’ll see you at home, Linkle,” Zelda chuckled and hung up the phone.