#the last time i watched it i was stricken by how much it reminded me of the original star trek series

[cornsarts]

Princess Angel from Vegas in Space for today

[guilty-ff]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐏𝐭.2

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ˚⁎⁺˳ .

Previously: After overhearing Wade and Weasel discuss his unresolved feelings for Vanessa, Y/n panicked and fled the bar. Realizing how much his words had hurt her, Wade chased after her. Tragically, just as he was about to reach her, Y/n was struck by a truck, leaving Wade devastated as he watched her die.

This story takes place between the second and third movies (warning: not 100% movie/comic accurate)

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x (fem!)Reader

Genre: Angst, revenge, Fanfiction, Marvel

Warnings: Movie Spoilers! Explicit content, swearing, torture, mental health, weapons, characters death

Word count: 4168

Wade's entire world had shattered in an instant. He was kneeling on the cold, unforgiving pavement, cradling Y/n's lifeless body in his arms, as if he could will her back to life with sheer desperation alone.

The chaos of the world around him: the blaring sirens, the flashing red and blue lights, the distant murmur of concerned voices- was nothing but a blur. All that mattered was the lifeless weight in his arms, the chill that had already settled into her skin, and the way her once bright eyes were now dull and vacant.

"Please... please, don't do this to me," Wade whispered, his voice breaking as he rocked back and forth, clutching her to his chest. His breath hitched, tears blurring his vision as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling the faint scent of her shampoo, clinging to the last remnants of her presence. "I'm sorry... I'm so fucking sorry...".

But his words were met with only silence. Her chest did not rise or fall. There was no reassuring heartbeat, no sign of the warmth that had once filled her eyes with life and laughter. Wade's hands trembled as he smoothed her hair back, trying to memorize every detail of her face, knowing deep down that this was the last time he would ever see her like this.

The blood that stained the street was still warm, mixed with the tears that dripped from his chin. It clung to his hands, a harsh reminder of his failure. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, each one more painful than the last as he choked on the guilt that consumed him.

"It's my fault," he whispered to her, his voice trembling with the weight of his own self-hatred. "I should have been honest with you... I could have stopped you... Why couldn't I even open my fucking mouth like I always do?".

But there was no answer, only the cold, indifferent night stretching out before him.

He barely registered the approaching footsteps, the shadowed figures of the paramedics moving closer, their expressions grave as they realized there was nothing they could do. They exchanged worried glances, whispering among themselves as they tried to figure out how to handle the situation.

One of them, a woman with a kind face, knelt down beside Wade, her voice soft, careful. "Sir... I'm so sorry, but we need to—"

"Don't fucking touch her!" Wade's voice was a raw snarl as he recoiled from her, his arms tightening around Y/n as if he could somehow shield her from the reality of what had happened.

He looked up at the paramedic, his eyes wild with a mix of grief and rage, daring her to come closer. "She's not gone. She's not gone!"

The woman hesitated, her hand hovering just above his shoulder, unsure whether to comfort him or back away. She could see the pain engrave into every line of his face, the desperation in his voice that tore at her heartstrings. But she knew that they couldn't leave the scene like this. They needed to take Y/b's body, to give her some semblance of peace, even if Wade was not ready to accept it.

"Wade... Man..." A familiar voice cut through the haze of grief, and Wade turned his head to see Weasel standing a few feet away, his face pale and stricken with horror. He looked like he didn't know what to say, his usual sarcasm and wit buried under the crushing weight of the moment. "You've got to let them... Let them take her. You can't... She's gone, Wade. She's really gone."

Wade shook his head violently, the words not even registering as he tightened his grip on Y/n's body, as if the utter force of his denial could somehow change the reality of the situation. "No, she's not. She's just hurt... She's going to wake up... She has to wake up."

Weasel's heart broke at the sight of his friend, the man who had always seemed invincible, reduced to this: a broken, shattered mess of grief and guilt.

He took a tentative step closer, his voice trembling with emotion as he tried to reach Wade. "Wade... please, man... this isn't your fault. You've got to let go... you've got to let her go."

But Wade was not listening. He could not hear anything over the overwhelming guilt that consumed him like a fire. This was his fault. If he had been there, if he had been faster, if he had just done something differently, she wouldn't be lying here, lifeless in his arms.

He barely noticed when Dopinder arrived, the taxi driver's normally cheerful manner completely shattered by the sight before him. He stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock as he took in the scene—the blood, the crumpled form of Y/n, and Wade's unhinged state.

"Weasel... I'm done cleaning the toilets-" Dopinder's voice was a broken attempt at normalcy, his mind clearly struggling to process what he was seeing. But as soon as he fully registered the scene before him, his stomach twisted violently, and he turned away, vomiting uncontrollably onto Weasle's Hawaii shirt. The acidic smell of bile mixed with the metallic tang of blood in the air, creating a nauseating cocktail that clung to the back of everyone's throats.

Weasel barely reacted to the vomit now dripping down his shirt, his focus entirely on Wade. "Damn it, Dopinder," he muttered under his breath, though there was no real anger in his voice- just a deep, extremely tired sadness. He shot Dopinder a look that said it all: *Stay back. Let me handle this.*

The paramedics tried to move closer again, but Wade's grip on Y/n only tightened, his entire body trembling with the effort to hold on. "Get away!" he screamed, his voice breaking, raw with the agony that tore through him.

He reached out blindly, grabbing a jagged piece of metal that had broken off from the truck during the accident. He swung it at the paramedics, his eyes wild, daring them to come any closer. "You're not taking her from me! You hear me?! She's not fucking gone!"

Weasel's heart ached as he watched his friend unravel, knowing that there was nothing he could say or do to pull Wade out of the mess that was consuming him. But he could not let this continue. He could not let Wade destroy himself any further. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, trying to keep his voice steady, even as his own grief threatened to spill over.

"Wade, listen to me," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You need to let them help. Y/n... she's not in pain anymore. She's... she's at peace. But you... you've got to let them do their job, man. You've got to let her go."

But Wade was not hearing any of it. He was lost in his own mind, the words barely registering as his vision began to blur, the edges of the world around him starting to go dark. His grip on the metal weakened, his hands shaking uncontrollably as his body finally began to give out under the overwhelming weight of his grief.

"I'm sorry... I'm so fucking sorry..." Wade's voice was barely more than a whisper as he slumped forward, the piece of metal slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground. His vision darkened completely, and the last thing he heard before everything went black was the sound of his own heart shattering into a million pieces.

Wade woke up gasping for air as if he had just surfaced from drowning. His head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, and his entire body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder. Blinking against the harsh light filtering through the curtains, his heart pounding in his chest as the memories of what had happened crashed over him like a tidal wave.

Y/n. The accident. Her lifeless body in his arms.

The pain hit him like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind out of him as he struggled to sit up, only to find himself sinking back into the cushions of the couch. The familiar scent of cigarette smoke and cocaine clung to the air, and it didn't take him long to realize where he was.

Althea's apartment. Of course. The last refuge of the damned.

He groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead as he tried to make sense of it all. How had he ended up here? What had happened after he had blacked out?

Before he could piece it all together, Althea emerged from the shadows, a cigarette hanging from her lips, her expression as unreadable as ever. She looked at him with a mixture of pity and despair, as if she had seen this exact scenario play out a hundred times before.

"You're awake," she said, her voice flat, detached, as she took a long drag from her cigarette. She exhaled the smoke in a slow, steady stream, watching him through her sunglasses that seemed to see right through him. "About fucking time."

Wade tried to sit up again, his muscles protesting with every movement, but he forced himself to push through the pain. "What the hell happened?" he croaked, his voice rough and rough from disuse. "How did I... how did I get here?"

Althea sighed, rolling her eyes as she stubbed out her cigarette in the overflowing ashtray beside her. "You passed out, Wade," she said, her voice devoid of any real sympathy. "Weasel and Dopinder brought you here. They were in a panic, going on about some accident... and, well, it wasn't hard to put the pieces together."

Wade's stomach churned as the memory of the night came rushing back, hitting him like a punch to the gut. Y/n's lifeless body, the blood, the overwhelming sense of helplessness...

He could feel the bile rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down, his hands balling into fists as he tried to keep himself grounded in the present.

"Where is she?" His voice came out as a strained whisper, almost as if he was afraid of the answer. "Y/n... where did they take her?"

Althea hesitated, her usual stoic behaviour cracking just enough for Wade to see the unease flickering behind her eyes. She looked away, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of her jacket as if the act could somehow delay her answer.

"They took her to the morgue, Wade," she finally said, her tone softening, almost as if she was trying to ease him into the truth. "She... she was officially declared dead at the scene."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, and for a moment, Wade felt like the ground had opened up beneath him, threatening to swallow him whole. He couldn't breathe, could not think- his mind was a carousel of images, memories of Y/n flashing before his eyes, all of them met with the sickening realization that she was gone. She was really gone.

"No..." Wade whispered, his voice breaking as the reality of it all came crashing down. "No, this can't be happening. This can't be fucking happening."

Althea did not say anything. There was nothing she could say. She knew better than to offer empty lies, to pretend like there was anything that could make this better. Instead, she just watched as Wade's world crumbled around him, the pain radiating off him in waves so intense it was almost touchable.

Wade's breath came in short, ragged gasps, his chest tightening as a sense of overwhelming panic began to set in. Memories of Y/n flooded his mind: her laugh, the way she used to look at him with that mixture of love and exasperation, the way she made him feel like he was worth something, like he was more than just the sum of his scars and mistakes.

He felt like he was drowning, the air sucked out of his lungs as the world around him started to spin. His vision blurred, the edges of the room closing in as he clutched at his chest, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might explode.

"Wade," Althea said sharply, her voice cutting through the fog of his panic. "Breathe. You need to fucking breathe."

But Wade could not. The memories were too much, the pain too overwhelming. He doubled over, clutching at his head as if he could somehow stop the many images that were tearing him apart from the inside out.

"I can't... I can't do this," Wade gasped, his voice trembling as he fought to hold himself together. "I can't... I can't live without her."

Althea's expression softened, a flicker of something almost resembling compassion crossing her features. She moved closer, reaching out a hand to steady him, but Wade flinched away, his mind too consumed by his own torment to accept any form of comfort.

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the ragged rhythm of Wade's breathing as he fought to keep himself from going insane any further. But then, cutting through the stillness like a knife, a sound broke through the chaos- a shrill, insistent ringing that filled the room, that had surrounded them.

Wade's head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat as he registered the sound. It was a phone, the shrilling ringtone of the Star Wars OST echoing through the small apartment, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts and forcing him back into the present. He fumbled for the device, his hands still shaking as he pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen.

The number was unfamiliar, but there was something about the timing, the wrongness of it all, that made his blood run cold. His instincts were screaming at him, telling him that whatever this call was, it was not going to bring good news.

He hesitated for a split second, his thumb hovering over the answer button, but then he forced himself to press it, bringing the phone to his ear. "Hello?" His voice was strained, barely more than a rasp as he forced the word out.

There was a pause on the other end, a crackling that made his heart pound even harder. And then, a voice- a voice that was clipped, professional, but with an edge of something that Wade could not quite place. "Mr. Wilson? This is Officer McCready from the city morgue."

Wade's blood ran cold, his heart dropping into his stomach as he heard the words. The morgue.

Y/n.

The sickening realization of what this call was about hit him like a freight train, but he forced himself to stay on the line, to hear what the officer had to say.

"There's... been an incident," the officer continued, his tone growing more uncertain as if he was not sure how to proceed. "Y/n... her body... it's missing."

Wade's mind went blank, the words not registering at first, as if they were too surreal, too impossible to comprehend. "What... what the fuck are you talking about?" he finally managed to choke out, his voice barely more than a whisper as the world tilted on its axis.

"We... we don't know how it happened," the officer stammered, clearly just as unsettled by the situation as Wade was. "The security footage... it's missing, and there were no signs of a break-in, but... her body's gone. It's not here. We've searched everywhere, but... it's just gone."

Wade's heart hammered in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of the information. Gone? How could she be gone? He had seen her- he had held her cold, lifeless body in his arms. She was dead. He had seen the blood, felt the absence of her heartbeat.

And yet...

A little of hope, irrational and impossible, started to take root in his mind, fighting against the overwhelming grief that had consumed him. What if she wasn't really gone? What if... what if this was all some mistake? What if...?

But the logical part of his brain, the part that had been forged in pain and loss, pushed back against the hope, crushing it before it could take hold. No. This was not a miracle. This was something else, something dark, twisted.

Someone had taken her. Someone had stolen her body, desecrating the last remnant of her existence. The thought made his stomach turn, his hands clenching into fists as a surge of anger and despair crashed over him.

"What do you mean, she's gone?" Wade growled into the phone, his voice low and dangerous, barely restrained. "How the hell does a body just go missing? What kind of sick joke is this?"

The officer's voice wavered, clearly unnerved by Wade's barely contained fury. "I-I don't know, Mr. Wilson," he stammered. "We're investigating, but... we thought you should know. We're doing everything we can to find her..."

But Wade was not listening anymore. He dropped the phone, his mind reeling as the officer's words echoed in his head. Gone. Her body was gone.

The room started to spin, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as the walls seemed to close in around him. This was not happening. This could not be happening. Not again. Not to her. He felt like he was on the edge of some abyss, holding on a branch that could snap any moment.

Althea watched him, her expression unreadable, but her eyes were dark with something that looked almost like pity. She had seen this kind of grief before, had witnessed the way it could tear a person apart from the inside out.

"Wade," she said softly, almost cautiously, as if she were approaching a wild animal. "You need to calm down. We'll figure this out. There's got to be an explanation."

But Wade wasn't hearing her. He was already on his feet, his movements uncoordinated as he stumbled toward the door. He had to find her. He had to figure out what the hell was going on. He could not lose her, not like this. Not when he had already failed her once.

"I have to go," Wade muttered, more to himself than to Althea, his voice hollow as he fumbled with the doorknob.

"I have to... I have to find her..."

But as he reached for the door, the weight of everything crashed down on him all at once, and his knees buckled beneath him. He crumpled to the floor, his hands shaking uncontrollably as the panic attack he had been holding in finally overtook him.

Althea was at his side in an instant, her hands hovering uncertainly above him, unsure whether to comfort or restrain. Wade's breath came in short, shallow gasps, his chest heaving as the panic attack consumed him, pulling him under like a riptide.

His vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges as the room spun around him. He clutched at the floor, his fingers scraping against the worn carpet as if trying to ground himself, but it was no use. The memories, the guilt, the overwhelming sense of loss, it all crashed over him, threatening to drown him.

"Wade, listen to me," Althea said firmly, her voice cutting through his panic. She grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her, to focus on something other than the whirlwind in his mind. "You need to breathe, okay? In and out, slowly. Come on, you've done this before with gun smoke. You can do it again, just not with that type of smoke- Whatever, you know what I mean."

But Wade was barely hearing her. His thoughts were a chaotic mess, spiraling out of control as the reality of what had happened- what was still happening, tore at him from the inside out. Y/n was gone, her body stolen, desecrated, and he had not been able to protect her. He had failed her, just like he had failed everyone he would ever cared about.

Althea shook him, hard, snapping him out of the worst of the spiral. "Wade, snap out of it!" she snapped, her voice sharp and commanding, pulling him back to the present, if only for a moment. "You're no good to anyone like this. You need to pull yourself together."

Wade's breath hitched, and he forced himself to focus on her voice, clinging to it like a lifeline. He sucked in a ragged breath, then another, trying to steady the wild beating of his heart. The room slowly came back into focus, the edges of his vision clearing as the worst of the panic began to go away.

"That's it," Althea murmured, her tone softening as she saw him begin to calm down. "Just breathe. You're okay. You're going to be okay."

How could he be okay when the person who had meant everything to him was gone? How could he ever be okay again?

He let out a shaky breath, his hands still trembling as he slumped back against the wall, his strength completely drained.

"Why?" Wade's voice was a broken whisper, the question hanging in the air between them. He did not know if he was asking her, the universe, or himself. "Why did this happen? Why didn't I say something in the bar?"

Althea did not have an answer. She knew better than to offer false comfort or empty words. Instead, she sat down beside him, her presence a silent reminder that he was not alone, even if it felt like he was.

For a long moment, they just sat there, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside, the world continuing on as if nothing had changed, as if Wade's entire world had not just been ripped apart.

Althea nodded, her expression unreadable as she studied him. "I know," she said quietly, her tone carrying a weight of understanding. "But you can't do this alone. You're not in any shape to be running off half-cocked, looking for answers. You need help."

Wade wanted to argue, wanted to tell her that he didn't need anyone, that he could do this on his own. But the truth was, he was barely holding it together. He was a mess, his mind a mixed tangle of grief, guilt, and anger, and he knew that if he tried to do this alone, it would destroy him.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. It felt like defeat, like admitting weakness, but he was too exhausted, too broken to care. "I don't even know where to start."

Althea considered him for a moment, then reached for her phone, flipping through her contacts. "We'll figure it out," she said firmly, her tone allowing no argument. "I'll make some calls. We'll get Weasel and Dopinder back here. They'll help. We'll all figure this out together."

Wade closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him. It was not much, but it was something, a little of hope, a thread holding him together. He nodded slowly, too tired to protest, too worn down by grief and guilt to argue.

As Althea made her calls, Wade leaned his head back against the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling. The pain was still there, a deep, ache in his chest that refused to let go.

He was going to find her. He was going to get her back, no matter what it took. And whoever was responsible for this, whoever had taken her from him- they were going to pay.

Wade did not know how he was going to do it, or what he would find when he did. But he knew one thing for certain: this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

The phone in Althea's hand buzzed again, another call coming through, and she glanced at the screen before holding it out to Wade. "It's Weasel," she said, her voice steady. "He's on his way."

Wade took the phone, his grip tightening as he steeled himself for what was to come. "We're going to find her," he said, more to himself than to Althea. "We're going to find her, and we're going to make this right."

Althea did not respond, but the look in her eyes said enough. She believed him, or at least she was willing to help him see this through, no matter how dark the road ahead might be.

As the minutes ticked by, Wade let the resolve settle into his bones, his mind slowly beginning to clear as he prepared himself for what was to come. He did not know where this path would lead, or if he would ever truly find peace. But he knew one thing with absolute certainty:

He was not going to stop until he had answers. Until he had her back.

And if he had to tear the world apart to do it, so be it.

[ghostlysoaps]

Creature/monster AU

Soft warning for mature language and themes

Soap is staring at him. This, in and of itself, isn't unusual. It's like their very own game of cat-and-mouse. Watching and waiting to get caught in the act, diverting their attention only after the other catches their gaze to keep. The switch occurs, and then it's up to each of them to decide how much blatant attention is enough.

Ghost grits his teeth under the relative safety of his mask but doesn't take his eyes off the road. He can't afford to with the headlights off even if he sees better in the dark than most – not with the loops and curves and potential threat hunting them.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Soap eventually asks, an hour and some into their mad dash to safety.

Ghost wishes he could parrot the question back at him while replacing the last word with "what.” It wouldn't work, he knows that. Playing the fool isn't Ghost’s strong suit and Soap wouldn't care to indulge him anyway. Not with the way his leg is bouncing, ears flicking, gaze as piercing as a knife between the ribs. A bloodhound who's caught a whiff of wounded prey. 

"No," is what he says instead, short, concise and brokering no room for argument.

"I think we should."

But then, Soap would argue with a brick wall on the off-chance he could win.

"Drop it, Sergeant."

Soap's face twists, canines flashing as he gives himself to irritation, eyes flashing gold.

"It was wearing my face while trying to coax ye into dicking it down, Ah'd say there's plenty to discuss."

"It was trying to get me close enough to wring my neck."

"Och, aye. Strange way t'go about it." The glower he levels Ghost with burns against the side of his face. "Sure there's nothing you wanna tell me? Might've helped dislodge that stick up yer arse if you'd let it–"

Ghost swerves abruptly, takes them off the main road to rest beneath a canopy of trees, on a path too overgrown to count as one, cutting Soap's questioning in half as the man yelps and slams a hand against the window to steady himself. The car slows to a stop and then one of Ghost's claw-tipped hands are on Johnny’s face, digging deep divots into the fat and muscle around his chin and jaw. He uses it to shake Soap's head from side-to-side. Not scruffing, but a show of displeasure nonetheless. One familiar to wolves. 

When Soap opens his mouth to protest, Ghost gives in to the urge to slot his thumb inside the warm cavern and draws a shallow line across it that quickly wells with blood.

"One more word," he snarls, "and I'll cut your tongue right out of your fucking mouth."

Soap stares at him, all wide-eyed and stricken, for a moment, just the one, before his lips stretch into a smirk around the digit in his mouth. He seals his lips over it, hollows his cheeks on a mean suckle, and then nips it with too-sharp teeth the moment Ghost pulls it out as if burnt, causing that lopsided smirk to broaden. 

"Shouldn't threaten me with a good time, sir."

"You're off your head." 

"I can smell arousal, y'know," Soap says, redirecting the conversation with all the gracefulness Ghost shows in his driving. "But not on you, can't ever smell anything on you. Drives me up the fuckin' wall." Soap shakes his head with a laugh, glances at Ghost from under his lashes. He's still smiling. "Sirens... now they don't need pheromones to get in yer head and root out yer darkest desires, an' they don't resort to shape-shifting into a specific guise unless there's a chance it'll work on their target."

"It didn't."

"I could tell by the bullet ye put through its heid. Dinnae even hesitate for a second."

Ghost's fingers flex at the reminder and Soap's eyes flit to them momentarily.

"You've a cold heart, Lt."

"Told you that already," Ghost rasps.

"Why me?"

And it sounds like begging, those two words, spoken in a beckoning call of their own, pleading for a truth Ghost is refusing to admit to anyone, least of all himself.

"You're attractive, Soap, that's all there is to it."

Soap deflates, sinking back into his seat with his face turning towards the window. Shoulders slumped, ears pinned back, as if he were a puppy expecting praise and finding a boot hurtling towards his side instead. It's jarring. Not wholly unexpected, but hell if it doesn't drive a blade straight through Ghost's aforementioned heart – something serrated and hooked sawing through his sternum to tear at raw nerves.

He should leave them there, within the rapidly growing chasm of distance he'd longed to create since Soap first bumped a fist against his shoulder.

"I knew it wasn't you."

It's the thinnest sliver of an olive branch, incapable of flowering with how slight and insignificant it is.

Soap takes it nonetheless.

"How's that?"

"Because your attempts at flirting are as bad as your jokes."

Johnny, incandescent with rage, comes back alive as if electrocuted and with slew of profanity to boot. He rants at Ghost for a solid half-hour, all ire and with no regard for propriety or rank, dressing him down as thoroughly as any drill sergeant back at basic. Anger is a good look on him. Joy is too. Emotions of any kind as long as they're far from the empty vessel Ghost had glimpsed before.

He lets out a breath he can't remember holding as Johnny’s voice steadily washes away the memory of blood in the sand and dimmed, unseeing eyes, blue as the summer's sky, staring unblinking ahead.

[delicrieux]

𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫, 7. year one: up to mid october, 1972

pairing for this chapter—f!lestrange!reader x sirius black warnings for this chapter—sum swear & sirius being a prat word count—2.5k

a short awaited confrontation and a new friend.

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | ttp masterlist | < back | next >

over the course of the month, it seems that the sight of you has become repulsive to sirius. he could not bear to look at you for more than it took to notice you in the crowd or to recognize your voice echoing before the body belonging to it reached him. he’d flee, usually, and refrain, in a completely un-sirius fashion, from making a gigantic scene. this would have been odd to you if only the pain of seeing his hastily retreating back wasn’t too much.

don’t be so harsh with me please, you’d want to tell him, i’ve done nothing but love you.

instead, “what. is. with. you,” and each word punctuated with an angry smack to his forearm. he glares, and he wiggles out the way of your unrelenting pursuit to beat him into submission. his friends watch frozen, stuck somewhere between amusement and desire to pull sirius back into the safe confines of the gryffindor tower. you will not allow them. not this time, at least, “you stuck up, insufferable—“

“piss off,” he nurses his bruises, though you aren’t strong enough to leave any.

you falter in your step, but the anger doesn’t die. he must know how his look wounds. he must. “piss off?” you parrot, and it rings much smaller and fainter than his had, “piss off? that’s all i get from you?”

“expect something different?” he bites, and bites, and bites, and he maims and mars until there is a thread between your hands and his heart thin as ivory wire. his eyes appraise and they dance and they hate, “why don’t you run back to your regulus.”

ah. there it is. the venom.

“sirius-“ james starts, and both of your glares cut him into two.

“shut up,” the both of you, again, together. you mirror his dark look and try to decide which words of the infinite welling quickly are most fitting. they sink with and through you; an anger and a hurt not meant to be felt by someone so inexperienced. when you and sirius argue, it is never as dire, even if it feels like it was. sirius never starts rows he cannot win, even if it’s him that loses most in the end, “family matter.”

james looks as though he’d rather be anywhere else but in the windy courtyard, shadowed by the cold arches of a loggia. peter, cheeks and ears burning, nervously rubs his hands together to dispel the cold. remus, already, is further ways down and watching, waiting for the rest to catch up. you won’t let them, not yet, not till you say your piece and abandon first, because father said the last word is always the winner.

you speak in french because you know he hates to hear it, because it reminds of home and you know he can’t stand home like he can’t stand you now, and it will hurt him, and it will make you happy, “regulus was right about you. you’ve become unthinkably cruel.”

he curls his lip, and it is with so much spite that it makes your teeth ache. his body rolls into itself, ready to explode and spit up his scorn all over your face. the insult must teeter on his tongue. you're more than ready for it. but something cracks and something flips and he reels back a bit, a show of restraint you thought him absent of.

"yeah, regulus, regulus always knows best, doesn't he?" your french mimicked in his mouth is dense, like syrup, "regulus, darling, regulus," a sneer that draws his lip to the high planes of his cheekbones, and a head tilting movement that is patronizing and obscene. it reminds you of his mother, "your regulus, isn't he the fucking best."

"he's not mine," you state tartly.

"hard to believe when he follows after you like a dog," he bites, and bites, and bites, but even through the layers upon layers, the soreness permeates and leaves you stricken into a stupor that only sirius can create, "listens and does everything you say. can't he think for himself. attached to your shoulder like some blithering pest."

you blink back the anger in your eyes. you are not going to cry, you tell yourself. if you do, then he will win, but he always does.

the boys stare at you. you don't know what to say. the feeling of it is tight and burns like an ulcer, "what has gotten into you? why do you hate me? i haven't-" your lips work through their turmoil, "-i haven't done anything to you."

he waves you off, dismissive. his hands tremble with some unspoken rage. "stop bothering me and go back to regulus. he's probably already looking for you."

the end of the conversation hangs heavily between you. sirius sniffs, and turns away in that blasé manner he always has with him, as if all life were a joke. his posture is too stiff and his features are too cold and he joins remus first as james and peter linger. you shake.

"i, uhm," james begins, but your glare silences him again. slowly, carefully, he nudges peter, "c'mon."

they leave, but james looks back. you miss it, head hung in defeat. your emotions threaten to burst free and splinter all over the stone. you think, in a hurry, how could you ever cover them up – with your hands, your body? is it the aftermath already, where everything is too obvious for pretence?

when it rains, it pours. it always has and you suspect it always will.

*

naturally, you are inconsolable. what a great big joke. no broom closet nor dusty cavern of the castle is familiar enough to hide in, and you cloak, despite its expanse, can hardly protect from sore eyes. the loo it is, locked in some stall and hiccupping. marzipan had mentioned finding a hufflepuff crying not a week in. she thought it amusing, and you did, too – who could ever abate decency and sob in the loo? what a terrible ploy for attention, had the girl expected consolation? no such could ever be found in marzipan, why, she said, and she said it proudly, she laughed quite loud and the crying stopped.

you would die on the spot if someone found you. it would feel like uncovering a horrible secret, being exposed in such a way. aren’t you a grown up? your birthday is soon, on a cold october night. grownups always breathe fine – besides your ditzy aunts – but you find there not being enough air. so much space and so little of it.

you fan yourself, and you heave, and in a tantrum you tussle out your cloak and throw it onto the gleaming white tiles.  your cheeks burn and there’s an ache in the apex of your head. crying like this, over a boy, no less? sirius, of all? rabastan would point and laugh, point and laugh, point and laugh.

there’s a knock on your stall’s door and you nearly topple over in a scurry to silence yourself.

“hi, sorry,” the voice is unfamiliar, but it sounds kind, “are you alright?”

perfect, not only have you embarrassed yourself, you’ve aroused the suspicion of an idiot. there’s a gentle creak on the wood, as if a weight has settled. an ear, perhaps, pressed onto the surface, but for what?

you will your shaky hands to settle by your stomach. the fingers pinch and pool on the woollen fabric of your sweater. you gulp, but it gets stuck, and the silence stretches, so still.

“i-yes,” you manage. this won’t do, the tears cling to your mouth, “i’m, i'm okay.”

“do you need some water?”

if you weren’t so distraught, you’d delight at the curtsy. stupidity must be contagious because you shake your head.

“no, no,” you say after a pause.

“a tissue perhaps?”

“i'm fine,” seems you have managed to locate your wits. from some hellish depths, no doubt. swiftly, you retrieve your cloak, “thank you.”

“’s no worries,” the voice pipes. it belongs to a girl, you think, who doesn't budge, and, instead, waits. it seems your dramatics have riled someone. even the staff would scold your sorry condition, all snot and tears and shaking limbs – quite undignified, "can you tell me why you're crying?"

oh, merlin, how wonderful, the prodding and the poking and the horrible sympathy. are you so pitiable? perhaps. in this state. it's still hard to believe a complete stranger has found themselves so comfortable, "if i say i'm not crying will you go?"

the girl laughs, light and tittering. for a moment, it startles you, too, "not very likely."

the air remains stagnant, as if it's thick and spinning. the echoes of your sniffles bounce along the walls. you could tell her to piss off. you've heard it enough in the span of the last hour.

"i had a fight with my friend," you say eventually, "i think he hates me."

"did you do something to make him hate you?"

your forehead grazes the stall door. it leaves a cold spot and it makes you wince, "no."

"hmm," there is a sound of shuffling and more creaking, "well, then i wouldn't be very worried. he sounds like a dick, and what you need friends like that for?"

a great deal, actually. what did you think you were doing these years, clinging to his arm and curling into his bed when it rains? "what am i supposed to do?"

"beat him up, i imagine, and sort his sorry arse out."

you snort, though not very amused, "tried that."

"good start," you imagine her nodding and crossing her arms, "now, if i were you, i'd hex him into tomorrow and we'll never hear from him again."

"sounds wicked," you lament. the thought has crossed your mind, but revenge crumbles into some mushy, pitiful mess if you think on it too long.

"positively evil," she agrees. the silence returns, but it's comfortable, "i’ve got parchment in case you wanna practice curses."

a corner of your mouth quirks. your chest aches, but it's no longer full and painful, "that's alright, thank you."

"always wanted to be an accomplice," you hear the smile in her voice, "no trouble at all."

a final stretch of quiet. it allows you to breathe, really breathe, and pull yourself into order, as it were. it's no pretty sight, the state of you, but it no longer compares to how you first came in, a crying mess. when you open the stall, and face the girl for the first time, a kind face greets you. her brown skin is flush, hair twisted into two plaited horns that are gathered into a half bun, the rest pinned around her head. your nose twitches, itchy.

she grins, "there you are. no longer crying."

the cold from the running faucet burns against your cheeks. the face that peers back at you from the mirror is dishevelled. red-rimmed eyes and wet splotches all over. you grimace, "look like a sordid mess."

"well, yes, but, like a normal sordid mess. like, almost pretty normal," she stands behind. a red lion's emblem is embroidered into her uniform. she tilts her head, "like, i look way worse when i do it. at least you cry prettily."

"oh, you think so?" you turn to her, "no one's ever said that."

her nose wrinkles, but the mirth isn't gone from her eyes, "well, don't suppose you make a habit of sobbing in front of others. lest you wouldn't have barricaded yourself in the stall."

you hum, "quite the excellent point."

she flashes her teeth and nods proudly, "of course, got many," there's a slight silence where she appraises you, "you're lestrange, right? i've seen you in my classes," she asks as though she knows, and extends her hand for you to shake, "i'm dorcas. meadowes. gryffindor.”

“slytherin,” you respond, but shake her hand anyway.

“can tell,” dorcas says, that same lilt of a smile on her lips, “you wear it with pride.”

yes, of course, because that is what lestrange do. her family name is unrecognizable, but you don't think to wonder on it much further. her eyes are friendly and warm, and she takes to fixing the wayward strands of your hair while you dab a bit of tissue paper to your nose. a few seconds go by, and she glances at you from under the hair fallen onto her forehead, "i still have parchment, and we could still get you those curses down."

"haven't the ink to draw any, unfortunately," you reply.

"hm. next time then," dorcas decides for herself, and makes for the door, "think a walk to the kitchens might be in order?" she leaves her invitation open-ended, her gaze expectant, "could use a warm cinnamon bun."

you wonder about her, dorcas meadowes, with the shiny dark eyes and plaits and how well she talks to strange girls who cry in bathroom stalls. "alright," you accept, the smile on your face not as strained, nor sad, nor angry, "lead the way."

[any-mouse]

Ra’s Al-Ghul Is Why We Batclan Can’t have Nice Relationships Things.

Ok, so. I am not someone who knows a lot about the DC fandom, but fics and the DCxDP crowd (who are why I’m here) have given me information and research binges have given me more. And here’s a take I haven’t seen about Jason’s death, and why Batman not killing Joker made things dangerous for Robins. Or did it?

Batman could not win. If Ra’s decided the only thing that would get his chosen heir, or at least son-in-law, into killing would be to kill Robin, it’s time to send his assassins in. Batman keeping to the “no-killing” rule is the only thing keeping a bunch of kids and teens from facing down, not the gangs and henchmen of Gotham, but a literal death cult.

Which is one thing that makes me wonder if that’s hadn’t been Ra’s’ plan, only manipulating the Joker into doing it for him. Which casts Batman undoing Nightwing’s killing of Joker in a very different light.

But there are other things that go along with that. And why Ra’s is a bit, fixated, on poor Tim. With how wrathful and brutal Batman became after, everything, it was only a matter of time before someone died. And then all Ra’s has to do is, wait. Drop hints or little reminders of the League, maybe have Talia swing by a few times. Allow the previous rapport to rebuild itself. In the meantime, build up Jason’s rage, anger, betrayal, and then unleash him on Gotham. Watch as the two brutal titans clashed, until Batman kills Red Hood. It would utterly destroy Bruce to have been the one to kill Jason a second time.

But, ah, there is a chance to fix this. The Lazarus Pit. Bruce will do anything to undo this fatal mistake, wrought at his hands and driven by his wrath. And in his grief stricken desperation, as he looks back on his rampage with despair, at all of the people he maimed, crippled, and killed in his agony, in steps Ra’s. Don’t worry, Ra’s has been collecting them. Fixing them. He does not agree with Bruce’s decision to leave, he still does not support Batman’s policies. But he knew it was important to Bruce so he took steps to ensure that no irreparable damage was done. Slowly, carefully, drawing a grateful Batman back into the fold. Wearing away at morals already cracked by grief and rage, using soft words where harshness has failed. Reviving Jason once again, keeping the two of them orbiting each other like binary stars, unable to leave, but always wanting to stay.

And it’s all foiled by one rich brat who’s stealthier than he has any right to be. Tim knows that Batman is going off the rails of sanity at an ever quickening pace. If he’s close enough for good pictures, he’s close enough for first aid and responder calls. So there is A Lot of damage and wreckage left in Batman’s wake, but nothing that isn’t salvageable. Ra’s won’t have a cadre of former henchmen and goons brainwashed into serving as Gotham’s foot soldiers but that would have been secondary. But Tim does more than that. Tim throws himself between Gotham and Batman because no one else will. Tim is a highly intelligent and self-sufficient child. His self-worth is in the toilet, thank you very much Drake bio-donors.

So Tim out-stubborns Batman and glues himself to his side and pulls him back. He cuts off the roaring rampage of revenge. Batman starts healing and Ra’s just can’t have that, oh no. But this is an easy enough fix, and it’s even better than the first plan. After all, loosing the last Robin to a violent villain led them to this point. How much worse would it be, to have started to heal, only to have it happen again? To destabilize that way again? Oh, Batman will never be able to resist, there had always been the possibility that Red Hood would win. Not high, and not an unworkable outcome, but snuffing out yet another Robin would ensure Red Hood would die, and then Ra’s would have another knife to twist Jason to his will. Taking pointer from his killer, not just his name, tsk tsk.

And it’s not like he couldn’t revive Tim as well, play the two of them off against each other and Bruce. Using their enmity and bitterness to wound Bruce, using Bruce to keep the two of them from spiraling out of control in their rivalry, make them resent Bruce for picking sides, rubbing salt into Jason that Bruce cared enough to avenge Tim but not him. Taunting Tim for what Bruce dragged them all into over Jason. Throw Damian into it just when it seemed to be settling into an uneasy dynamic equilibrium. Setting the boys on Blüdhaven, drawing in Bruce. See which way Bruce jumped, to protect Dick from the boys or if Bruce will try and recruit Nightwing for the League.

Ra’s has so much to gain from Joker killing Jason. It wouldn’t be difficult to send in a few assassins disguised as henchmen to plant the idea. Sacrifice a pawn or two, to gain a queen and rook.

[saltygilmores]

THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS-SEASON 3, EPISODE 1: LAZY HAZY CRAZY DAYS (PART 5)

Faces of Fear. Bozo got an early flight home, bringing with him an immovable stench cloud that is hanging over the day's festivi-titties. The city of Chicago is letting out a sigh of relief, though. In the middle of her crisis, Lorelai immediately abandons Rory, who is shaking in Dean's presence like a flu-stricken chihuaua. But not before reminding Dean how much she's missed him.

I heard there's a vacancy at the Shane and Jess Tree now, why don't you two make a reservation?

What the what! They're still going, in the same spot, completely uninterrupted! The Foreplay King and Queen! I am not worthy! Have they been making out in public so frequently that they just blend in with the scenery and hundreds of people walk right past them without even glancing? They've fused with the FuckTree. The 69 Pine. Witnessing this peep show, Rory experiences an instantaenous full blown sexual awakening so seismic the earth threatens to crack open beneath her. At FND, Emily and Richard take the news of the Lor & Crusty breakup just as well as anyone would have expected, which is to say, Not Well. When Lorelai returns home...presumably after 8 pm,as it's pitch black outside but the summer festival is still underway, somehow, with hundreds of people roaming the streets. The Barbershop Quartet is still singing "Lazy Hazy Crazy Days" into the night sky, creating an eerie scene. This is like something out of the Twilight Zone. The festivals never end, Taylor Doose in his never ending quest for power and money is forcing the citizens of The Hollow to listen to the same song (actually, more like two lines from the same song) on a loop until they go mad, forced to sell corn dogs and cotton candy until they drop dead, while Shane and Jess are still making out against the Poke Oak.

Again, the last few episodes have been making me feel like something was missing, then I remember Luke still exists. Hi Luke! Why don't you put a light on or something, why are you working in the dark?

Looks like someone decided to put on her big girl panties and be brave. With Lorelai breaking in and Jess always escaping it seems like Luke doesn't know what a lock is. Lorelai states she isn't there to beg for forgiveness or have a conversation with him or to talk to him or interact with him in any whatsoever, but she had a bad night so she wants him to make her coffee. DIdn't you hear the man? He's closeddddd.

When Luke won't budge, Lorelai asks him to just pretend she's some other random customer she made up called Mimi, as if it's in any way possible for Luke to imagine this ridiculous woman as someone else. There's no way these two have ever successfully engaged in role play. I guess he could pretend she's Kirk, both of them take up space for hours at his establishment and don't tip and make him want to lay down face first on the grill with his hand in the deep fryer. Luke won't assist her, so Lorelai helps herself to a pot of tepid coffee, sits down at his counter and starts crying about all the fucky guys she's dated in the last two years.

"Crusty's gonna have a baby with this woman" True "He's gonna be there for her when she's pregnant" False "He's gonna be there with her to see his child grow up" False "He's gonna be there for her while she does whatever it is she does." You mean be super duper creepy? #CreepySherry

Am I supposed to feel sorry for you or something? Go cry to Dean Forrester.

You got a LONG wait ahead of you, sister.

Wah wah wah. I want a Tyrannosaurus to storm the streets of The Hollow and swallow your boyfriend Dean Forrester, then I want the t-rex to spit him out so he can be eaten a second time by another t-rex, but we can't always get everything we want, right Lorelai?

Here. Have a 14 hour old donut to ease your pain and hopefully make you go home.

Me, Outloud (Very Animated): What the what, she was about to pay you for the first time ever and you stopped her?! A flipped script, but that's more or less the same reaction I have during A Year in the Life when Jess offers Rory money. “Why aren’t you taking her money” vs “why are you giving her money”

Is she gone? Lorelai returns home to find Rory in the living room. It makes me verrrry nervous when Lorelai and Rory meet on the couch at the end of an episode. Shit always goes down on that couch. It's the Scary Couch. The couch where Lorelai imparts horrible wisdom. It turns out my intuition would be correct in this instance. So horribly, horribly correct. Lorelai apologizes to Rory for reacting in the town square earlier, even though for once in her life Lorelai was actually the reasonable one who was totally in the right about Rory's behavior being slimy, and even if Lorelai is a hypcorite of the highest magnitude to try and impart on her child that you shouldn't mess around, cheat and play games. We can throw her a sprinkling of "Do as I say not as I do" points as long as she doesn't fuck it up in the last two minutes of the episode.... Hahahahaha. Ha? LORELAI GILMORE GO 15 SECONDS WITHOUT MENTIONING DEAN FORRESTER CHALLENGE. GO! Lorelai plops down on the couch with 2:58 left in the episode. *starts timer*

2 minutes and 43 seconds left. From sit-down to How's Dean was 15 seconds, she then asks "How was Dean" three more times. That fucking couch! Oh, and of course, after she took off and abandoned Rory earlier when Dean approached, Lorelai has yet to ask Rory how she's feeling.

Yay.

Unfortunately, yes. I called the T-Rex to eat Dean but she's booked to the gills, like, you really gotta know someone to get her to show up in your sleepy Connecticut town. 17 seconds from the last Dean mention to the next.

Oh..honey....

It's crazy NOW? No one tell her what a Three Ring FuckCircus the Jess Thing is going to turn into. She has to find out on her own. It's the only way she'll learn.

She says "I love Dean" with as much conviction as someone saying "Yes, I love walking around in wet socks."

But..ya kinda do, miss "just because you and Rory broke up doesn't mean we did, Dean." Lucky for you your daughter is a pathological people pleaser who won't dare to upset you or Dean, So you can rest easy knowing your precious Dean won't be going anywhere, for like, another 7 episodes.

He deserves to have his nuts crushed by a wooly mammoth.

You know what *deep breath* I'll choose to hear "In this alternate timeline, the HPV vaccination has already been invented in 2002 and I'm going to take you to the gynecologist to get it because I want you to be safe in case you one day decide you want to have sex with Jess" instead of unleashing Double T Rex's on Lorelai.

[go-river-flows]

Sweet Visions of a flower

Summary: Syulang (OC) is an orphaned girl after the destruction of Hometree. She is constantly reminded of this by her amputated left leg though she no longer dreams of her deep trauma. She is betrayed by the very people she trusted, leaving her with nothing once again.

A/N: Im back from my break, and after deliberating for a while, I have finally finished Sweet Visions of a Flower. This has been a story I’ve struggled to write because there was so much to unpack. And initially, I wanted to write a sad ending but ended up writing a somewhat wholesome ending. I hated writing it, but I’m just glad this series has ended!

FINAL PART

Letting Quaritch take the lead, Ja explained how they waltzed back into Bridgehead and despite Adrmore’s harassment Quaritch just explained that they integrated with the Na’vi and were stripped of their gear so they couldn't communicate to her in Bridgehead. Ardmore was skeptical but let Quaritch continue. Whilst Adrmore dismissed all the recoms to have a private chat with Quaritch, they went ahead and started planting small bombs and their weaponry around Bridgehead, just in case they needed them.

Almost getting caught a few times but playing it cool, whenever someone stopped to question them. After completing their tasks, they finally gathered at the entrance, ready to blow the Bridgehead sky high. But what they forgot to account for was Fike and Brown’s intense loyalty to Quaritch when Ardmore finally caught onto what was happening. Aiming her gun towards their Colonel, Fike dove in front taking a bullet for his superior officer. Brown died trying to save Fike, as the Colonel was being dragged away by Zhang just as Bridgehead was exploding, taking a shard of metal through his chest whilst protecting Quaritch. Warren noticed Lyle wasn’t with the group when Bridgehead exploded, who ran through the maze of flames to find him, only to come across Quaritch managing to lead him out, but ran back into the burning mass to find Lyle, and that was the last they saw of him as the metal construction frames began falling. It was chaos. When he didn't come back out, they all knew he had perished. Hell, they though Lyle died in the fire too, that was until Prager decided to walk the perimeter yelling out his name, stumbling across me with Lyle. 

Which leads us up to now. Ja just held me as we sat in silence. The recoms mourning their friends, comrades and brother in arms. I could tell Quaritch was taking it the hardest, he let his friends die. Lyle was still unconscious with a terrible injury, Prager trying his best to deal with it.

“We should go back to High Camp. Get Lyle the help he needs,” Quaritch finally said, standing up and calling for his ikran, Cupcake. The others sighed heavily doing the same. I did the same, calling for Azui. I contemplated telling Quaritch about Jake. About what he said, but I feared that he would react horribly. Best not add fuel to the fire. Turning to my palulukan, I just told her to follow after mounting my ikran, and we flew back to High Camp. I kept my eye on Quaritch, knowing that same grief and pain of losing people who you care about. 

Entering the vertical entrance of High Camp, we were greeted by our clanspeople. Jake, Neytiri and the kids are nowhere in sight. Ja and I rushed to Prager’s side, helping to grab Lyle from upon his ikran. The two of us rushed toward the healing tent. Throwing the flap open, Ninat was there with Mo’at. Ja gently lay Lyle on a cot before Mo’at checked his gaping wound. 

“This injury is too great. He has broken bones and requires surgery,” the tent flap was thrown open as Quaritch entered in a frenzy. It was hard to watch his face contort into stricken sorrow. I couldn't help but feel anguish for Quaritch. Ja must have noticed my shoulders fall, leading me out the tent and brushing tears from my cheek. Being back in High Camp reminded me of Jake and Neytiri. I felt angry, but also guilty for the way I spoke to them, seeing Lyle in his unconscious and vulnerable state in comparison to his stoic, yet somewhat endearing goofy side reminded me of Jake. I should apologise to them. 

Hugging Ja in a bone-crushing embrace, I pulled away before going to search for the Olo’eyktan and Tsakarem. Heading toward the Sully tent, I pushed the flap open and peeked in. It was empty…I didn't know what to say. Speeding toward the second location, the science lab. I pulled open the door finding Norm and Max chatting to one another, having not seen me yet.

“Hi Norm. Where is Jake?” his expression morphed into shock.

“Syulang?! You're still here? I thought you went with Jake,” he said. 

“Went with Jake where?” my brows furrowed in mass confusion.

“T–They left…They’re gone Syulang,” my jaw dropped. They did it after all. They've abandoned me. 

“Oh…Thanks Norm,” I turned not saying anything else, leaving the lab. I felt cold. My nerves completely numb as my head went blank. I was right after all. I cried…no. Wept. Through tears, I stumbled back to the empty Sully kelku. The only things there were my belongings that had been untouched since the early morning. 

I cried into my hands, curling my body into the woven floor. I didn't hear anyone enter, but I felt their warm hand on my back.

“W-What’s going on?” Quaritch’s deep voice stuttered, trying to piece together why the tent was empty besides a small pile of my things. I looked up at his searching face. “Where’s Sully?” 

I sniffled, “They’re gone. They’ve left,” I wiped my eyes, “They've left me,” I choked between sobs. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, taking me into his arms, swaying me like a fussing child.

“That's not all…” I didn't want to hesitate any more, “...He wanted to kill you. He wanted to kill your warriors. He told me…he told me that the only thing stopping him was me. So he brought you into High Camp to keep an eye on you…He didn't trust you…He never trusted you…But I though he did. Then he said that he was going to leave the clan,” I confessed, “I confronted him and I asked…I asked him if I was the same…he didn't say ‘no’ and he didn't say ‘yes’ either. I wanted to tell you earlier, but…” Quaritch hushed me as I began to break down again. “I vouched for you. I was the only one who stood up for you…for the others.”

I looked at the na’vi next to me, his expression was hardened. Furious. His eyes met mine.

“Listen to me, that man is nothing but a liar. He’s betrayed me once before and it cost me my life. But hell would I let it happen to you. His daughter,” I have never heard Quaritch speak like that before, it was almost…soft. 

“I'm not his daughter – I never have been. Just someone he had to keep an eye on,” I rectified, as if I had a moment of clarity as old memories surfaced, “I was only there to watch his children, to be their protector, babysitter, a provider, a warrior – all those things. But not his daughter,” remembering the little times he’d call me by that word, but never in front of others. Did he really mean it, or was it just pretend? I could feel his eyes on the profile of my face, observing my profile.

“If you were my daughter, I would be the proudest father on Pandora,” Quaritch clicked his tongue, “Okay. Guys, I know you’re listening.”  There was a shuffling outside the tent, Ja, Mansk, Z-Dog, Lopez, Walker and Prager poked their heads into view. All with a look of disappointment. The lot of them filed into the tent one after another, no longer wearing their human clothes. Ja came to sit by my side, shooting Quaritch a look.

“With all due respect Colonel, please get your hand off my girl.” Quaritch retracted his hands, raising them in surrender, Ja pulled me into his lap wrapping his arms around my torso.

“What do I do now?” I just ask into the air. No one answers but looks at me, “what do we do now?” I ask looking at the other recoms. “There’s no more humans. You can do what you want now, you’re free.” Their ears perk up and their tails wag a little.

“Oh! I would love to explore more of Pandora!” Z-Dog exclaimed.

“I want to travel too!” Lopez piped up.

“I would like to settle down,” Mansk spoke up.

“Honestly, settling down sounds good,” Walker added.

“I want to learn more about healing!” Prager exclaimed. We all turned to look at Quaritch, whose ears perked a little.

“Uhh, I could train the warriors. But I wouldn’t mind travelling a bit, then maybe settle down somewhere,” Quaritch said. His answer was a bit unexpected, the other recoms looked a little surprised. 

“What about you Ja? Syulang?” I looked at Ja for a moment before speaking, “I want to stay, someone has to lead the clan and protect it.”

“Then I’ll stay too. I want to be by your side,” Ja said. I couldn’t help but smile at his small acknowledgement.

What I didn’t know was that the role of Olo’eyktan was passed onto Tarsem, a young warrior who was born to lead. He was horrified to find that I was left behind by his former leader. Though he was happy to pass the role onto his former Olo’eyktan’s oldest adopted daughter. And so I became the first female leader of the clan and was officially courted by Ja. And much to Quaritch’s surprise I made him the teacher and leader of the warriors and those to come. In the end, I found a new family in the group of Recoms, former outcasts of the humans. Lyle, unfortunately had to have his leg amputated, but was fitted with a metal prosthetic leg much like mine and spent most of his time recovering.

You can say that the story ends happily, well almost…

Five years later…

I climbed onto my ikran, my little girl strapped to my front as Ja helped me on. Lyle did the same, checking his pack of belongings with some scientific equipment. Max finally showed up yawning at the early departure. Lyle reached down to grab him, Max sitting on the front of him.

“How long will it take to get there again?” Lyle asked once again.

“it’s the same answer Lyle, nine hours. Thirteen including breaks.

“Are you sure we should be flying for thirteen hours? You look like you're gonna pop before we get there,” referencing my pregnant belly.

“Oh you're soooo funny, Lyle,” Ja said sarcastically, climbing onto his own ikran, “That’s my wife you're talking to, and your Goddaughter or Godson in her belly.” 

“Damn right! And I can’t wait to meet them by the way…” Lyle exclaimed excitedly. 

“Let’s go! We have a long ride ahead!” I got tired of their bickering, making sure my daughter, just barely four years old, was comfortable, “Are you comfortable Lili?” She nodded whilst yawning. The sun had yet to rise as we left our Hometree. A while ago, whilst searching for a habitable giant tree for my clan to make into their home, Ja and I had to land due to a storm, finding the most perfect giant tree that was uninhabited. We spent the night there and let’s just say that was how our first child was conceived. 

“Tell me again the reason why we have to fly nine…no thirteen hours to visit Awa’atlu again?” Lyle huffed. 

“There was a message sent around Pandora to all human ally settlements. Ours just happen to be one. Max was the one to receive the message and as Olo’eyktan, I couldn’t just let him go to it alone.”

“That makes sense, but why is Lili coming? Surely she should stay home with her Aunty Walker.”

“She should see the other places on Pandora as well. Ya know? Might as well since she keeps hearing stories from Aunt Z and Uncle Lopez.”

“Ah, that's why she wanted to go. Plus! It’s my first time travelling to a sea clan. I heard from Z-Dog and Lopez that it’s a literal paradise!” I could hear Lyle’s grin.

We took off out of the jungle, heading toward the sea clans. Taking breaks every three to four hours to let out ikran rest. Arriving the the azure waters the very next day in the early afternoon. On our break just before arriving, Ja helped me dress in my Olo’eyktan cloak, a blue painted cape with yellow, green and red feathers. Taking our little girl to sit with him on the last leg of the ride as Max sat with me. 

Flying toward the village, I flew around looking for a place to land our ikrans. Opting to land on a sand bank. I disconnected tsaheylu gliding down my ikrans wing, Max sliding down onto the white warm sand. A group of teal coloured Na’vi gathered as the clan’s leader approached, wearing a similar looking cape.

“Olo’eyktan Tonorwari, I see you,” I greeted him formally, plucking my fingers from my head as Max did the same. Ja and Lyle did the same out of respect, my little daughter copying her father as she was being carried in his arms. 

“Olo’eyktan Syulang (daughter of mother and father (not Jake and Neytiri’s names)). It is a pleasure to finally meet you, I have heard the many stories of the legendary leader,” my ears perked up quizzically.

“Oh no, I am not legendary. I am merely a leader who takes care of her people,” I bow to him.

“And just as humble as they say,” he chuckled.

“They?” 

“Why travellers of course, two jungle dwellers just as yourself,” Ugh, Z-Dog and Lopez, what did you tell them? Lyle and Ja’s ears perked, instantly knowing who it was. I just bow my head hiding a smile. Returning to face Tonowari, his mate Ronal appeared not too far, a darker blue figure approached with her. I squinted my eyes trying to put a finger on the familiarity. Neytiri. Her expression morphed into a shock as she walked closer with Ronal. Tonowari, noticing my gaze turned to see his wife, gesturing to introduce her. I greeted her much like I greeted Tonowari.

“Ronal. Tsahik of the Metkayina, I see you,” bowing as I pluck my fingers from my palm, Lyle and Ja did the same formally greeting her, Lili mirroring her father’s actions. Acknowledging the Tsahik, though I did not greet my former mother figure. The Tsahik greeted me back, before looking to my companions, her daze followed Lyle as her eyes fell to his false leg, then mine. 

“So this is the infamous leader of the Omatikaya clan. I have heard stories about you. The first woman clan leader of the Omatikaya clan,” she stated, “Syulang, I see you.” 

The darker blue woman stared wide-eyed. Three familiar faces popped up not too far away, their expressions were the same. All jaw slacked and wide-eyed. 

“So, why is it that humans were called here?” I addressed Tonowari.

“Ah, straight to the point, I see,” Tonowari gestured for me to follow, I turned to face Max for him to follow along too. 

“Lyle, the equipment?” Max called for him, as Lyle started to untie the ropes holding the equipment together. Ja let our daughter down from his arms and my little girl ran to my leg, holding my blue limb.

“Come my dear,” I picked her up into my arms as Max followed the tall teal blue Na’vi, passing by Neytiri without batting an eye. Ja helped Lyle with the equipment as I followed the leader and max to a large woven hut. There inside was already a group of humans that I’ve never seen before with leaders of other clans from other parts of Pandora. We greeted each other and Max introduced himself to the group of scientists and soldiers who turned their backs on the RDA. One was a former Colonel, who was located in the wetlands, another was a scientist from the cold ice plains. The others were notable members of scientists in different regions of water and desert plains.  And there in the far corner, was the former leader of the Omatikaya clan. His head whipped up so quickly as an expression of recognition morphed into  horror, recognising the human and Na’vi in front of him. My eyes turned cold when I saw him. Jake Sully. My pupils dilated into slits. My daughter noticed my cold expression and clung to my shoulders even more. 

“Sa’nu,” she quietly said. I held my daughter closer to my body. Jake’s expression didn’t change as I sat down next to another leader. Soon Lyle and Ja entered the woven hut with the science equipment, setting it down on the side. When they looked up to see the other humans and clan leaders, they noticed Jake in the corner and old feelings returned. Their distaste for him returned as the memory of me telling them that they left the Omatikaya clan was burned into their memories. Lyle and Ja were by my side in an instant sitting next to me, their overprotective nature appeared as Lyle reached to take his goddaughter from my arms, as she snuggled into his arms. Tonowari watched in both curiosity and unknowing, unsure about the situation and the reactions of the two dark blue Na’vi staring daggers at the former Olo’eyktan. 

“So why has this meeting been called?” One of the other leaders questioned. Tonowari cleared his throat before a human stood up.

“Hi, I’m Selsi Ku. I grew up here in Awa’atlu along with my older sister, about five years ago before the RDA finally left Pandora — after a major incident at one of the facilities. I was able to breach the firewall of the facility and hack into the database to get information. I found something….which needed confirmation from individuals such as yourselves….humans,” the woman explained, “unfortunately I needed access from someone much higher up in rank but was unsure about who currently resides Pandora with such rank, therefore, a signal was sent out to human outposts around Pandora. And why I needed medical equipment,” she gestured to the equipment we brought with us. “The Omatikaya clan was the closest with the most advanced medical equipment as well as expertise,” she gave a nod to Max.

“What is this regarding, exactly?” One of the scientists from the Ice plains asked.

“About humans being able to breathe Pandora air…. Without a mask,” there was a collective gasp.

“What? No, that’s impossible! Pandoran air is completely toxic to us humans…Is that even possible?”

“I believe so….But before I could find more information, I lost signal and connection. I went out to investigate the facility and found it completely destroyed, like a massive explosion destroyed it,” when Selsi said this, I whipped my head to look at Lyle and Ja who gave a sheepish look. 

“That may have been us…” Lyle popped up.

“Was it on a coast, partially in a forest and partially on water….?” Ja asked. Selsi nodded with a confused look.

“Sorry about that…we didn’t know someone was hacking Bridgehead. We kind of…staged a coup,” Lyle chuckled nervously. Selsi’s expression changed to a new expression.

“Are you two avatars?” She questioned. Lyle and Ja looked at each other before raising their hands, showing their five fingers. My daughter looked at her father and godfather, mimicking their actions, raising her five finger hand. 

“But…now we’re full Na’vis. Did our iknimaya and everything. We’re recognised as Na’vi now,” Ja confessed. I wasn’t looking at Jake until that moment, but I turned to face him and his expression was different, sad almost, disappointed. Tonowari nodded, like he was proudly approving. And with that Jake stood and left rather quickly. Lyle’s eyes followed the former Olo’eyktan, slightly peeved at Jake’s behaviour. I gently rested my hand on Lyle’s knee shooting a slight sympathetic look. 

“Thankfully I was able to save most of the data on an external data port, most if not all the information was saved,” Doctor Ku held up her tablet screen showing the info and the scientists gathered. The clan leaders left the communal kelku as the scientists got straight to work.

Tonowari, guided the clan leaders to their temporary homes on a quiet part of the island. I walked with Ja as Lyle played with his goddaughter on the beach. Building what he called a “sand castle”, whatever that was. As my husband and I spent a few quiet moments together before four faces slid into view in the corner of my eye, I turned with a questioning look with an eyebrow raised. It was Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri and little Tuktirey, who was not so little any more. They didn't say anything as the four of them charged me tackling me to the sand clutching on as tightly as they could.

“Tsumuke! Sister!” they all yelled. They all looked at me with tears in their eyes, the emotional rollercoaster they must have felt for over five years must have broken them. I returned the hug, feeling nothing but a wave of suppressed emotions bubble to the surface. I let my tears out, happy to see them. 

“Oh… My brothers. My sisters. I missed you so much….I'm so sorry….I'm so sorry….” I clutched onto them for dear life. Though my large belly was in the way. It must have been hard for them, being away for too long. “Oh, my little Tuk…all grown up…” I rubbed my thumb over her cheeks, before moving onto Kiri, Neteyam and Lo’ak. 

“Mama…” My little daughter called out to me. The four kids turned to look at the little girl, their eyes wide in shock. 

“That's my daughter, Lili,” I told the four of them. 

“Daughter? I'm an Aunt?” Kiri asked, to which I smiled.

“I'm about to have another…” I rubbed my belly.

“But…Tsumuke, what are you doing here? And what's with the getup?” Neteyam questioned.

“Oh. I'm the Olo’eyktan of our clan…”

Their faces morphed into shock again before they bombarded me with questions, occasionally asking about the belly and my daughter. I chuckled at their antics.

“Mawey. Mawey….I’ll answer all your questions. Yes, she’s my daughter. Yes, I'm about to have another. No, Lyle is not the father, it’s Ja’s. Both of them are. Yes, I became Olo’eyktan. No, Ja is not the Tsahik…No, I didn't forget about any of you…and Quaritch is now teaching and general of the clan’s warriors…Is that all?”

“Can you forgive your old man?” Jake’s familiar figure walked onto the beach, he knelt down with his head down in shame. I looked up at Jake, his sudden appearance though not startling was a bit of a damper on the happy reunion. Ja who was next to me, put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, reminding me that he was there. I shuffled closer to Jake, kneeling in front of him.

“Yes,” Jake looked up at me with a sad expression, “You broke me, but yes. I forgive you. For what it's worth…I forgiven you a while ago…I came to terms with it when I became Olo’eyktan. I understand why you left, but it was stupid…Selfish even. The way we ended things wasn't what I hoped for…But you do have someone to apologise to.” 

“Yes…anything to say sorry,” Jake said. I breathed out his name.

“Qu– Miles…Apologise to Miles…” 

Jake was stunned, he knew that this would happen eventually but he was still shocked by the bluntness.

“Yes. I have to, don't I?”

I simply nodded my head.

“He followed through with his mission. He destroyed the RDA for the sake of the Na’vi…He betrayed his own people for the sake of our planet…Like you did all those years ago.”

“I understand.”

“But…For now,” I looked over to my daughter, gesturing for her to come over, “Meet your granddaughter,” Jake’s eyes flicked over to the approaching little girl, “This is Lili.”

END

<–Previous Chapter |

Taglist:

@sleepilysworld @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @wolfmoon8269 @howlerwolfmax @lovekeeho @ducks118 @dyingofcookies @secretflowerobservation @thehoneymushroomhealer

[shandaiyuh]

Hi, you'all don't know me yet but still, i need to take this little scenario (if you even can call it like that) about RolloYuu that i have in my mind.

⚠︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs...⚠︎

☁︎It can be either male, fem or gn Yuu, i leave that to you.

☘︎I haven't read nor played the event yet, i'm just going with some spoilers that both TikTok and Tumblr had given to me, so if something is inaccurate or wrong, well sorry 'bout that.

☁︎The Yuu in question will have some tints about my own, hope you all don't mind.

☘︎And last but not least, english is not my first lenguaje, sorry for any misspelling.

ɴᴏᴡ... ᴏɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ sᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ!

Just imagine with me...

The ball is going perfectly, people having fun and dancing around, enjoying the food and company of their partners. The music is something that everyone enjoys pretty much too.

Then there is you, sitting infront of one of the big windows, patiently waiting for one of the NBC staff to signale that is your turn to sing.

You were quite nervous, last time you sang something was back at SDC, and it didn't quite end well you could say.. But that didn't matter! You say to yourself, everything this time will go perfectly, you made sure of it.

You were so lost in thoughts that you almost failed to notice one of the staff member finally signaling to you to start.

You straightened up in your sit and prepared yourself, once again the eyes were on you, even of your friends back at NRC that were in a videochat made by yours truly Rook Hunt. But that didn't quite matter to you, the only thing in your mind was him, you needed to be perfect, to make sure that you will let him impressed.

(At first i didn't know what of the two songs will fit better, first i through that Love Story by Indila was a good suit. But then a TikTok had reminded me of a very beautiful song of a very beautiful movie, Once Upon a December. And i thought, "hell, that one fits better" so there we have it.)

Rollo would be watching your every movement as he finds you interesting -and beautiful, perfect, pure and basically an angel brought to heaven just for him-, the second you started singing he entered in a trance, the rymtn of the music, the lyrics and the most important thing your voice. Oh how he loved that voice of yours.

In the middle of your show -after the first 'across my memory' specifically- he would approach you and lean infront of you, giving you he's hand, asking for a dance. Which you happily accepted.

You two start twirling around in the ball room, followed closely by the camera of Rook's phone and the other partners that had gone out to dance as well.

When you started singing again he could feel a flame in he's heart, a flame that represents he's love, he's adoration, he's desire towards you and for you.

He knew he shouldn't fall for someone, he knew it was forbidden. But then again, your lips looked so appealing, no one - and i mean no one- could blame him for his hungryness towards them, no, no one could -not even you that looked at him with such pleading, loving eyes-. You wanted this too, didn't you? And who he was to deny something that he himself yearns with all he's may?

Oh how he loves you, everything about you is simply perfect for him; your voice, your body, your lips, your everything. He signs with you the last part of the song without breaking eye contact, a hopeless inlove smile plastered on both your faces.

Neither of you wanted this event to end, you wanted to be with eachother for the rest of forever... And he will make sure it happens, after all, who in this filthy world is more perfect for the role of a ruler of the new world than you? The purest person that he knows, he's king/queen/royal, he's angel.

But of course, there were people that didn't quite like this, specialty a certain fae that observed everything with glowing green eyes. You were so absorbed in your dance and song that you failed to notice the thunder that has stricken in the background...

Lol that all, hope you all liked this shitty thing that i made before going to bed.

Some day i will make my formal presentation in here i promise, i already have prepared some fics, headcanons, scenarios and other things prepared for this and others fandoms that i want to post here.

Have a nice day ★

-ᴄʜᴀʏ-ᴄʜᴀʏ

(Edited on 18/12/22)

[obsidiancreates]

One Undead To Another (Chapter 14)

(Trigger warning for... I guess mental breakdown? Death, grief, complicated feelings surrounding grief)

“Thanks.” Juliet smiles at the officer, and then turns and walks up to her partner.

“So?”

“Checks out.” Juliet doesn’t even try to hide the relief in her voice. “The mom tried to kidnap her daughter and Shawn caught them, the mom confessed to everything and the little girl is already home safe.”

“And no bite marks on the perp?”

“Not a scratch.” The relief she feels is enough to make her melt. “She described Shawn as quote, ‘rude and offputtingly cavalier with a strangely calm approach to everything’.”

Lassiter scoffs, not without slight fondness, and with much mocking. “Sounds like Spencer.”

“Yeah.” Juliet can hear the dreamy relief in her own voice. “Yeah, it does. Even through all that. … Maybe we’ve been a little too hard on him, Carlton.”

“Too hard on him? O’Hara, he’s a vampire.”

“But he’s still Shawn.”

“The last time we used the ‘It’s still Spencer’ excuse to relax about him, someone ended up dead.”

The tension returns to her in a crashing tidal wave with that sobering reminder. “Right.”

“Right. Yes, it’s Spencer’s personality, his behavior, even his soul. Doesn’t matter. We need to keep an eye on him and keep him in check. Even if that means being a little unfriendly.”

“Easier for you to do than for me.”

“I know. So I’ll be doubly cautious for both of us.”

“Thank you, Carlton. … What now?”

“We’ll have to go back and get Guster, then decide on how we handle the rest of tonight.”

“... Or… call Gus to check in, then go get coffee and late-night pancakes before switching off?”

“... I would kill for a good cup of joe right about now.”

Juliet smiles and pulls out her phone, finding the contact. “Gus?”

“Juliet?”

“Just checking in. How is everything so far?”

“Good, actually. We’re making a list of uh… changes to Shawn’s psychic abilities. Like Mary said, they’re all out of whack now.”

“And he hasn’t…” 

“I’m fine. I put the cross on a paperclip necklace, he can’t get near my arteries.”

“Smart. Okay, well, Lassiter and I are going to take care of a few things and we’ll be back to relieve you soon.”

“Cool.”

She hangs up. “Are we splitting the bill tonight?”

“I was thinking I’ll watch Spencer tonight.”

“... So?”

“So, you should pay.”

“Oh, my god.”

“What?! It’s fair, O’Hara.” 

“You’re seriously trying to use this to get me to pay for pancakes.”

“It’s a perfectly valid reasoning.”

“You just want to annoy me into not fighting you on watching Shawn.”

“Right. I want to make absolutely sure I’m the one stuck with him for hours.”

“You don’t want me in danger.”

“You owe me.”

“I do. Alright, I’ll buy. But that means we’re both getting the kind with the strawberries and bananas.”

“Fine. Doctor says I need to eat more fruit anyway.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright.” Gus has the list of psychic attributes laid out in front of him, and beside it a new list of vampire attributes. The psychic list is much longer, including lots of little moments they now both realize were actual psychic instances in past cases. “So we both agree that the Nigel St Nigel cigarette case thing was psychic.”

“The first stop was. After that I just actually noticed the danger.”

“Still counts.” Gus writes it down. “Okay, vampire thing next. Can you fly?”

“Pretty sure that’s a no.” Shawn isn’t even sure how he’d go about trying that except for jumping off a cliff– which he considered, before getting a vision of his body floating in the water and Lassie and Jules watching it be hauled up. He’s not sure if he was dead-dead in the vision, or just unconscious, but it doesn’t matter because Lassie and Jules looked pale and stricken and they’ve already had to see his corpse once. 

“Psychic sure or regular sure?”

Shawn considers it for a moment, taking the time to eat a cheese puff. “Regular sure,” he decides.

“Fine. Then… how do those cheese puffs taste? Like ash?”

“Like artificial cheese.” Shawn eats another. “I think food tastes the same.”

“Does it feel the same?”

Shawn shakes his head and has another puff. “I had a smoothie earlier and it didn’t quench anything. That might be the biggest loss in all this.”

“You mean besides your eternal soul?”

“Pretty sure I still have my soul. … That one was definitely psychic.”

Gus notes that and the food thing down on their respective pages. “I think we’re making good progress here.”

“Me too, man. I knew we’d be able to figure this all out together.” He hadn’t intended on that at all. He still catches himself looking at Gus’s neck, as does Gus. It’s why Gus made the makeshift rosary in the first place. It’s risky, and difficult, and it makes him hungry.

Hence the cheese puffs. Which aren’t taking the edge off at all, but maybe if he pretends they do he can trick himself into it actually working.

“How about shapeshifting?”

“Gus, I’ve been a vampire for like, a day. Even if I could do that, it probably won’t happen before speed.”

“You said you super-sped at that lady’s car.”

“Yeah, on accident.”

“Fine. What about hypnosis?”

Shawn crunches a puff.

Yes. Yes, he has hypnosis. Strong, potent hypnosis. Some kind of power over someone’s very soul, compelling them to do what he says without even knowing he’s done anything. He can feel the phantom sensation of doing it to Gus, twice now, the way it tied them together for a moment in an otherworldly snare where Shawn was the trap and Gus the prey. And he hadn’t even meant to do it at all.

“I haven’t tried yet.” Not a lie. He hasn’t. But it’s not an answer. But how can he answer? ‘Sorry buddy, I’ve already hypnotized you, Lassie, Jules, and some random other person. You, Lassie, and Jules more than once, by the way.’ He’s still on thin ice, and he’s still figuring this out, and he’s sca–

“You haven’t tried?” “To be honest, man, I’m not super hyped about the powers stuff. They kind of suck so far.” He motions to Gus’s chest. 

Gus rubs the bruise. Shawn tilts his head and tries to parse if there’s any tip-offs for ‘bruise’. He’s pretty sure there isn’t– but it’s also just a normal, logical conclusion. He files that away as a ‘Maybe Psychic’ moment and crunches another puff. “So uh… how’re you planning on tricking out the office?”

“Hmm? Oh, that. Well, I talked with Father Wesley earlier–”

Shawn grits his teeth. A resentment he knows isn’t his bubbles up inside of him. He bites the next puff harder than he has to. Gus doesn’t seem to notice, now opening his laptop and looking something up.

“– and got some advice. I found Bible passage wallpaper in an online specialty shop, I’ll put whatever I have leftover from my apartment in here.”

Crunch. Is he scowling?

“I also ordered some actual crosses to hang around my desk. Just, you know, in case.”

Crunch. Shawn hopes his nod doesn’t look too stiff.

“I’m probably going to keep a spray bottle of holy water around too.”

Crunch.

Gus jumps in chair. Shawn looks down at his hand. He’s crushed the entire bag of puffs. 

“Whoops.” It’s all he can muster up. It’s nothing. It’s chips. It’s so much more.

“... Maybe I shouldn’t tell you all the stuff I have planned.”

“Yeah. … I’ll probably figure it out anyway.”

“Probably.”

“It was kind of impossible to hide anything from me even before all this.”

“Not that impossible. You didn’t know about Ruby.”

“Oh yeah.” He probably would now. It feels a little like his brain is a poster, folded up so that whatever the focal point of the design is was on full display. He could pick apart the details, admire the intricacies, hang it up and be satisfied with just that. But now he’s unfolded it for the first time, and it’s so much bigger than he ever imagined it’d be, and it’s almost difficult to take in the whole complicated piece. He can hone in on little aspects, specific sections, he can separate it by the leftover impressions of the folding, but trying to see it all as one leaves him unable to see any of it. He could probably know everything, if he could just back up far enough to take it all in…

‘Don’t.’ His grandma’s voice drifts through his head softly. ‘You won’t be able to get back.’

“Shawn? Shawn!” He blinks and Gus is standing in front of him, pencil-cross tucked into his shirt so it’s not waving in Shawn’s face as Gus leans over and lightly slaps his cheek. The warmth of Gus’s hand enriches the smell-taste hovering around him. Shawn jerks away and tries to cover the seize of panic with an exaggerated flop and shout of surprise. He falls off the chair in his fervor. 

Gus just tsks and watches Shawn flop around for a second through half-lidded, done-with-you eyes. Shawn sits up, now covered in the dusty remains of the puff bag.

“What was that?” Gus puts his hands on his hips. “You completely blanked out.”

“Gus, please. I don’t blank out.”

“Your eyes glazed over, Shawn.”

“Now I want doughnuts.” He doesn’t. He wishes he does. He should.

“I’m serious, Shawn! That was–” Shawn zeros in on Gus’s hands, highlighted as they tremble slightly. His eyes go up to Gus’s lip, also trembling, and the way Gus keeps looking at his neck before quickly looking away.

“Oh, buddy.” Shawn stands, putting a hand on Gus’s shoulder. Warm, pulsing with Life, easy to take. He crumbles up the chip bag in his other hand, keeping the one on Gus’s shoulder loose and casual. “Look, man, if you need to…”

“No, it’s– I’m fine.”

“You were having flashbacks, weren’t you?”

“... Maybe.”

“I’m sorry, man. I-I can’t imagine… I mean if I found you like…”

“Shawn, seriously. I’m fine.”

The turmoil in Shawn’s guts is different right now. It’s not hunger, not searing pain, not uncertainty and confusion twisting his stomach into knots. It’s a deep pit of dread, a rolling cycle of regret and grief, a tight line of If Only that…

… Isn’t… his.

…

“Gus?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you need to go back home.”

“I’m supposed to keep an eye on you until Lassie gets back, remember?”

“Dude, looking at me is just hurting you right now.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is. No wonder you keep throwing up, man. This feels awful.”

“Feels aw- you can feel my feelings right now?”

“Kind of, I– it’s complicated.”

“... I don’t want to leave right now, Shawn.”

The grief sharpens. The almost gentle roll of the grief cycle becomes a tear. Shawn sucks in a breath at the same time Gus pulls in a shaky sob.

“Gus, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You already did.”

“But I’m back! I’m right here, man!”

“You know it’s not the same, Shawn.”

“But it can be! After we figure all this weird new stuff out! Nothing has to change, man. I won’t let it, we’ve got a good thing going and nothing is taking that away from us.”

“You died.”

“Only for a little while.”

“No, Shawn.” Gus brushes the hand off his shoulder, putting both of his hands on Shawn. “You died. You– we saw–”

“But it’s okay now! We can move on from it, buddy, just like we always do.”

“Not just like we always do! Don’t you–”

“... Don’t I what?”

“... Don’t you feel off?”

“Don’t I feel off?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because you died!” Gus shakes him. “Because we didn’t believe you! You died surrounded by freaky monsters, alone, in a basement! It’s not normal to just move on from that, Shawn!”

“What are you– are you mad that I’m not upset enough or something?!”

“YES!” Gus pushes Shawn away– or tries to. Shawn isn’t even wobbled by all the force Gus puts into it, and instead Gus is the one who ends up pushed back and stumbling away. “YOU’RE DEAD, SHAWN! YOU’RE DEAD AND YOU’RE STILL WALKING AROUND MAKING JOKES AND ACTING LIKE IT’S JUST SOME EVERY DAY THING!”

“What do you want me to do, Gus?! Sit on my bathroom floor and mope?! Hang around my apartment thinking about what it felt like to die?! I don’t work like that!”

“No, you just run away when it’s something you can’t brush off!”

“Run– that was years ago! I haven’t run away from something huge since I was eighteen, Gus! I’m here, I’m here to stay, I’m not going anywhere!”

“YOU DID!”

“And I’m back!”

“You’re NOT! Not the same Shawn who left, and we both know it, so stop trying to pretend otherwise!” Tears are streaming down Gus’s face. There’s a frantic look in his eye and Shawn can feel the confusing tangle of emotions taking up his best friend’s chest, the grief and the anger and the disbelief and the fear all twisting into each other to make something just ugly and painful.

“What do you want from me, Gus?!”

“I DON’T KNOW! JUST– JUST STOP PRETENDING IT’S NOT DIFFERENT!”

“I CAN’T!”

“WHY NOT?!”

“I JUST CAN’T!”

“YOU HAVE TO!”

“I WON’T!”

“WHY?!”

“BECAUSE I’M SCARED!”

Silence.

Gus stands, crying and huffing and panting. Shawn is frozen, not daring to breath, blink, even move to run. He misses his heart hammering in his chest in moments like these. He misses feeling it jump into his throat, hearing blood roaring in his ears, feeling his pulse speed up and not Gus’s, he misses–

Oh.

He’s crying.

He’s crying, and Gus is moving towards him with a tissue. He offers it to Shawn. Shawn still can’t move. This doesn’t feel real. None of it has felt real, except for when it has, and then it felt too real to be real. He feels like the admission popped his Shamu pool floatie and now he’s sinking, sinking into shark-infested waters with weights strapped around his ankles and no don’t think about Mary choking on blood in his arms right now on top of all of it–

Gus wipes Shawn’s cheek for him. He’s still crying too. “I’m scared,” Gus says, voice wobbling. 

“Yeah.” Shawn’s voice comes out a watery croak. He motions weakly at Gus’s fake rosary.

“Not like that.” Gus swallows. “I’m not scared of you, Shawn.”

“Yeah you are.”

“A little bit. But I’m scared for you.”

“... Why?”

“I didn’t just see my best friend die. My best friend died, and now he’s trying to ignore that.”

“Gus–”

“We need to talk about it, Shawn.”

“... I don’t want to.”

“I know.”

“... It might not even help.”

“We still have to.”

“It’s never helped anything before.”

“Have we ever tried?”

“... I don’t… want… to have died, Gus.” His voice catches. He’s trembling now. “That can’t have actually happened.”

“It doesn’t seem possible.”

“It doesn’t, right? I don’t– things work out for me.”

“They always have.”

“They always have. They always do. It can’t have just… not, this time.”

“But it did. Not, did not.”

“... What if I did die? … For real? And I’m not…”

“You?”

“... Yeah.” Shawn wipes his own eyes this time. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. He’s never heard it like this. Clogged up, shaky, weak. “Gus, I’m… I’m scared. I’m sc–”

The last word doesn’t make it out. He sobs.

Gus pulls him into a hug, also sobbing. Shawn feels Gus’s heartbeat in his entire body, in his bones and deeper, but for the moment the hunger and temptation don’t come with it. As Shawn hugs back, taking in the warmth and feelings and Life, he doesn’t feel any of the painful tension of before. He feels Gus’s whole self, body and soul and all, and feels comfort.

[grumpyascianteddybear]

@seatedsacrifice

@atdutiesend

Neither of you asked for this, but here it is.

She had joined him in the tower after recompleting herself. Aurora had only done it hoping that her ancient self would know how to save her father. Her mother was already gone, having returned and choosing never to reincarnate. She had never found it in herself to be mad about it. The eighth rejoining had taken away what they both held dear, and her mother could not cope with the loss. After Eons of heartbreak, to lose him again after only just getting him back had been the final nail in the coffin.

Now she walked the Crystarum, dressed in a white cloak with gold detailing. A mask that once symbolized love adorned her face, keeping her features from view. It mimicked the shape of her father's crimson mask but was handed painted. A night sky with his constellation that the Aurora Borealis accented. The ridges of the mask were blue and held forget-me-nots: her mother's favorite flower and a reminder. She would never forget what they sought and what had to be done. The Warrior had to be saved, and the eighth calamity halted. It was the only way to save both her parents and her other self.

Symphony was already here, but there were others here as well. Raha had trouble getting a hold of the warrior and perhaps worse yet. Her mother had followed, using ascian technics to do it. At first, it had confused her as to why, but upon finding that Symphony was a shard of her grandmother, it made sense. It also meant avoiding all of them as much as possible, as her mother would know this mask well. There were also constant questions about why they had not seen the famed Miss Borealis.

When Granpy appeared, she knew that she was dead in the water. She could not hide from his sight, so it was no surprise when he approached her. To see him like this, still possessing his sense of self, was jarring. The version of him she had last seen had joined Fandanial, bent on destroying the Star he had once loved dearly. His grief had been too much for his own mind to bear after losing his daughter and son-in-law.

“ Was it really that bad?”

The question earned him a humorless chuckle as she turned to face him. Her bi-color eyes now glowed and could easily be seen through the eyes of the mask. There was a tired look as if she had seen things no person should ever have to see. “ Considering my father ceases the exist, his soul slowly replaced with a primal. My mother returns and never reincarnates again after they lose him a second time which is now very permanent.”

Aurora watched him flinch as she spoke. For a moment, she saw it, the grief-stricken madness that would consume him in her timeline. “ And you, you were all I had left. You lose all semblance of yourself and join Fandanal on his crusade to end the star you once held so dearly.”

“ Alright, yes, all of that is absolutely terrible.”

Aurora drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. He had already siphoned off two wardens from Symphony, the tempering crumbling under the weight of the light. This would make things easier. Once that tempering was gone, he could think clearly without the primals influence. He would once again be fit for his damned seat. After that, all that would be left was for her father to be cleansed. How that was going to happen, she did not know, given his connection to the primal. It was something they would not figure out later. With only he left among the unsundered-tempered, it would be harder for him to get things going.

“ The Eighth Calamity can never occur, or he will be lost, and with him so many others.” Aurora stated as she looked back out over the lands beyond the Crystarium. She often wondered, not tied to the tower like Raha was. They could do this. They would rewrite history, and all would be made right. She would cease to be most likely, but she was ready. Knowing her other self would not have to go through what she had put her at ease. 

“ She is returning with the light of another warden.” Aurora stated as she moved to leave him. She knew Granpy had much to think about. Things that his tempering likely didn’t enjoy at the moment. It would be weakened more soon, so she was not worried. She listened as he turned a walked away from her, footsteps fading fast. They had chosen to walk instead of teleport spoke volumes. 

“ You will not be lost this time, Daddy. I swear it on my very life.” She breathed out before teleporting to the top of the tower. She needed time to think about that little talk. Once Grandpa was no longer tempered, she knew her father would come. Would she be able to face him without breaking down in tears? Or would her carefully maintained poker face finally break? She supposed that only time would tell.

[razzleberry]

22 June 2024 - summer at the windows

I have been rendered largely immobile by a terrible bout of cold the past 6 days. I have not had meaningful human contact since last Sunday, as I fight the worst cold I've had in years. I haven't actually been ill, COVID aside, since the pandemic started. I had been bracing to be stricken by COVID, as it seems to catch me every June and knock me out just as the city finally awakens to summer. This time it appears to ... i've lost my original thought now. This time the cold/mystery bug is determined to take me down, with a slow build up a week earlier, where I hadn't felt poorly enough to take days off work or to cancel any plans, but not felt fully fit. The past few days have been a rotation from my bed, to the desk (for a few hours each day because I didn't draw clear boundaries to take full days off work), and to the sofa, as the warm June sunlight spills into the flat, and London hums along outside in what feels like the coming of summer.

In between naps, hot cooling tea, and Paracetamol top-ups, I have kept an eye on the summer sports, catching Euro games and the Queens Cup. The summer of sports cannot feel further away from me, as I quiver under a blanket in the sunlight, forcing myself to drink my Chinese herbal tea before it runs cool. What little energy I have has also been spent obsessing over The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley, which has made me weep, laugh and feel so much. I adored it. I am almost done with my re-read, after completing it only a few nights ago. It's kept me up at night, winning the competition easily against sleep. No wonder I am not recovering as quickly as I would like.

This has been the first time I've been home-bound in a while, and forced to slow down. It reminds me of the lazy lockdown days - without the undercurrent of anxiety. I have read much, and enjoyed losing myself in reams of text (preferably in paper). I've also been lucky to watch some interesting films, which I've been ruminating on since. Some of these were before my ill spell, nevertheless, I'll write about them since I have the time and mood to.

Ripley

A slow burn of a show. A reviewer called it a series of beautiful moving postcards. It truly is. Andrew Scott lights up the screen as our Ripley. On a podcast, I heard the director discuss how he's more interested in the process than the outcome, and his storytelling focuses on the process. This show was very compelling, so much so that I paid £10 just to watch the final 40min of the show (damn you Netflix on your crackdown on account sharing!). My only gripe was that Andrew Scott and the bloke playing Dickie are too old to be playing 20 something year olds, but if you wave that aside, this show works. The Italian actor playing the police chief is one of a kind.

The Talented Mr. Ripley

I have actually never seen the Minghella classic starring Matt Damon. The original is a sun soaked jaunty affair. How gorgeous was Jude Law, resplendent in the Italian sun!? The Netflix show has stripped away all the colour and liveliness of the original, but I might prefer the Netflix one in terms of storyline. Less haunting, more chirpy. 90's Matt Damon was swaggering.

Good Will Hunting

A friend told me he'd rewatched this recently, and this prompted me to put it on after he lamented that they don't make movies like this anymore. I was also keen to continue my streak of 90's cerebral Damon shows. And damn. They really don't make movies like this anymore. The storytelling is beautiful and highly romantic - not in a lovers' sense, but in its wider romantic view of the world. It has everything you want in a good story - struggle, loveable characters, friendship, romance, a boy's coming of age. It's a simple story, and is told brilliantly with much warmth. Who better to direct than Gus Van Sant? Robin Williams doesn't appear for the first third of the film, and when he does, I could swim in the sadness in his eyes. I was holding back tears at Ben Affleck's little speech at the end. Damon is a movie star. Harvey Weinstein is a monster, but damn, did he give us some good movies.

Hit Man

I put this on even though it wasn't on my watch list after I saw the overwhelmingly positive reviews on Rotten Tomatoes. And boy am I glad I did. A new original film from Richard Linklater - he who gave us the Before series - and Glen Powell, it centres around a dweeby professor who dabbles as a policeman in his free time. He is put out to field acting as a hitman in attempts to entrap criminals who seek his service. The fun bit is that he does his due diligence on each criminal, assuming a different identity he customises to what he thinks his client would like. The unbelievable part is that this is actually a true story. Hit Man fizzes with effervescent energy from a very good script and a star-making turn from Glen Powell. Apparently he was in Top Gun Maverick, but all I remember from Top Gun is Tom Cruise. Hollywood has been seeking out its next generation of leading men, and has thrown its weight behind stars who either never quite made it (see Ansel Elgort, Miles Teller) or have not yet reached the dizzying heights of being able to sell a film based on their names alone (Timothee Chalamet, Tom Holland, Austin Butler). My bet is on Glen Powell. He reminds me of a young Tom Cruise, disarming you with his easy winsome smile, and oodles of charisma. He also co-wrote the script, so there! The film is a blend of thriller, screwball comedy, mixed identities, and romance. Because it is a Linklater film, it deftly weaves in some high brow philosophy, on identity and our potential for change. This was a very funny and smart film, and I wish I had seen it in the cinemas because it deserves to be a blockbuster. It is also incredibly sexy, Adria Arjona and Glen Powell sizzle. I thought to myself once more, as the credits rolled: they don't make films like this anymore. Thank you Richard Linklater and Glen Powell.

Furiosa

The prequel to Fury Road. It is a good film, with impressive action sequences, but when the credits came on, interspersed with clips from Fury Road, I realised how much I missed Charlize Theron. Fury Road is an epic, I came out of that film in 2015 shaken and screaming, and it remains to me one of the best films I've seen in the last ten years. The prequel is similar to Fury Road, and is also helmed by George Miller. Fury Road was a notoriously difficult shoot, but the results are stunning. Likewise for Furiosa, you are immersed in the thrilling action sequences. It felt like the camerawork for Furiosa was less frenzied than Fury Road, but it might also be because we've seen it before and it is less groundbreaking. Nonetheless it is a joy ride, and Anya Taylor Joy is a commanding Furiosa, even if she lacks the physical statute of Charlize Theron. I cannot believe George Miller is 79 and making such energetic, crazed films. It is disappointing to see how poorly it's performed at the box office, especially for an original film with a female lead. Head to your local cinema and support this film!

Alright, time to move a few steps now for my paracetamol top up.

Ta.

[denimbex1986]

'All of Us Strangers comes packaged as a movie that is going to be hard to watch, not hiding that it isn’t easy to digest. Following Adam (Andrew Scott) as he goes back in time and talk to his dead parents, it already gives us all a hopeful chance at the closure that those who have lost a parent long for.

While the movie itself has deeper feelings of loss and hope and ideas of being able to redo things we’ve done wrong in our lives, what All of Us Strangers leaves you with by the end of the film is a sense of hope despite the weight of the story. If you understand the pain of losing a parent, you know that if you had the chance to see them again, you’d hope that you could say things you never had the chance to.

While Adam’s loss of his mom and dad was a bit more tragic than some of us will ever experience and a lot of his newer trauma with them came from his mom (Claire Foy) coming to terms with her son’s homosexuality in a very 1980s way (badly) mixed with his Dad’s (Jamie Bell) admission that he always kind of knew but still let his machismo keep him from being there for Adam, the movie still manages to give us moments that many of us in that grief-stricken state wish we could experience.

The loss of a parent doesn’t just go away

All of Us Strangers is weirdly hopeful in the midst of just waves of angst. Whatever pain Adam is going through, we feel it. That gasping pain that left me walking around New York City for a full hour after I saw the movie, wandering around and just trying to see the beauty around me because that’s what I needed after watching the movie.

In the midst of that, I also saw the happiness that Adam found in a second chance with his parents—even in the hard conversations with his mom when he was coming out, when he was talking about crying in his room and his dad overhearing him and leaving him alone.

The moment that really hurt reminded me that even in the joyful idea of getting to talk to your parent again after they’re gone is the knowledge that you couldn’t keep them forever. I would move heaven and earth to talk to my dad again. I know that it couldn’t last, that to talk to him would still have to be a brief moment and he would need to move on because he can’t stay trapped in this world for my benefit, much like how Adam has to let his parents go.

Getting to see that beautiful diner scene when he is left with three milkshakes alone and has to come to terms with a world without his parents? It’s a pain that those of us who lost our parents know, and it reminds us that we’re not alone in that pain. All of Us Strangers is a hard watch but one that is necessary and emotional.'

[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK TWO: ONE COLD TRAIL - CHAPTER 18

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Book 2 Chapter 1 is here …

IMPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:  ART

“It’s definitely his, then?”  Dar reaches out very tentatively from her crouch, which at her height honestly ain’t necessary, but she hunkered down with us all the same, albeit on Zul’s far side, which says enough.  Keeping her distance from me, under the circumstances.  Making a point, anybody can see it.  Extending her index finger, she gingerly gives the hilt of the sword a little tap, and the whole thing wobbles where it’s still jammed in the gouged brick.  It’s really wedged in there, looks like.

“Definitely his, yeah.” In truth, I don’t even need to sniff the blade, even if the dominant scent I’m getting is the oil that’s been used to clean the steel.  The air in this part of the alley’s thick with smells just as I would’ve expected, but the strongest, freshest scent I could pick out of a crowd on a very hot day indeed.  It’s one I know almost as well as those of the two crouched here with me now.

Zul doesn’t say anything as he finally reaches out and gently settles the blade.  He lets his fingers linger for a few moments longer on the hilt, frowning darkly at it, looking like he’s on the verge of violence now.  He’s not, but I know full well he’s a turmoil of emotions inside right now.  Zul knew him best, they were closest out of all of us, least in the beginning.  Before we started training in earnest.

“When’s last time you saw ‘im?”  I ask once the silence grows too much for me.

Darwyn shoots me a warning glare, but I ignore it. I ain’t rising to her bait now any more’n I’ve risen to any of her other shit since we left the Arrowhead.  I got about as much interest in revisiting that pit of shite as I got in asking Big Man for a deep tissue massage.

For his part, Zuldrad just takes his hand away from the hilt at last, his frown deepening further still.  For a moment I think he hasn’t even heard me, but as his jaw works with clear tension he finally turns to me, and with his lenses on now I can’t make out his eyes anymore, but I know he’s giving me a long, cool regard. Finally he lets out a breath that’s mostly a hiss between his sharp teeth, and stands up again.  “Five years now, at least.  Wasn’t a pleasant meeting, either.”

This time Dar’s glare is openly hostile, but I just roll my eyes as I straighten up too.  I know Zul ain’t pissed at me, just at fate for bringing Granzun back into our lives again.  So I just take a breath and wait for him to decide he wants to talk, but for now he clearly prefers to maintain his silence.  He’ll talk about it when it suits him, or when he has to.  Not before.

“All right … how’s that feel?”

Krakka’s low rasp gets my attention at last and I’m reminded of what I found when we first came to this chaotic little corner of the city.  Gael’s still sat back against the wall, but they’re working their right arm now, gripping and flexing their hand, watching the fingers move as they let out a slow breath. Their colour’s already better, still pale but nothing like the stricken, ash-coloured pallor I remember seeing when Tulen ported us in.  The relief in their face is clear, telling me the pain’s gone now, the damage mended, our cleric’s god magic once again doing its trick.  Finally they manage a tight smile, but I can tell how sheepishly embarrassed they’re feeling.

“Thank you.”  they breathe, reaching up with their left hand to press their shoulder while giving it a few little socket-rolls.  It’s taken a while to mend, but bones are like that, they take time for Krakka to fix and they’re tricky, and this was an especially complex joint.  It’s growing dark now, the sky a very deep blue turning to a dark purple that’s starting to show a few stars.  If it weren’t for Tulen those of us without nightvision would be starting to have trouble seeing in here now.

Once Kesla and the remaining few of our group had finally arrived and it looked like we might be here for a little while yet, she worked a little spell, pulling a few little things from her components bag and working a simple sigil in the air.  Then she threw the whole mess together and the glowing symbol turned into an orange-sized globe of bright white light that slowly climbed to a ten foot height above us.  It’s a somewhat odd, uncanny light, picking things out a little too sharp and clear at times for my own tastes, but it’s effective all the same.  It's also the main reason Zul’s kept his lenses on.

Stepping up at last, I offer up my hand as I work to make my face as cool and relaxed as I can, not wanting to let Gael see just how rattled seeing them so hurt got me.  “Need a hand?”

They blink at it for a moment, then up at me, and I can’t help thinking, as I look into those bright blue eyes, that they can see right through me now.  I know they’ve bounced back from what happened to ‘em well enough, but still, there’s been something … I don’t know, a little different in them since.  Subtle, almost small enough to miss entirely, but something all the same.  They ain’t acknowledged it yet, and neither have I. I’m leaving it up to them.  But I been worried about it since, and I’ve tried damn hard to keep that to myself whenever I’m round ‘em. Well enough I forget about it, most times.  But then this shit happens and it’s all come flooding right back again.  Likely it’s written all over my face.

They only watch me for a moment more, but something’s going on behind their eyes that I can’t quite fathom, which surprises me.  Often they can be quite easy for me to read, but not this time.  But they reach up and accept my hand all the same.

Even though they’re taller, they’re no heavier than I am, so I barely even have to lean back to help ‘em pull themselves up. If there’s any strain put on their newly mended shoulder it doesn’t show as they plant their feet at last, breathing a low:  “Thank you, too.”  just for me, which makes me smile again, the first one I managed since this started.

“You’re cool.  Just stop jumping into trouble like this, will you?  I thought you were s’posed to be smarter’n that.”

The look Gael gives me is clearly intended to slice me with their clear indignation, but I just smile right back through, and they can’t hold onto it.  I wasn’t being serious, and they know it.  “You arse.”  they finally growl, giving me a little thump in my own shoulder while they lose the fight to keep their own smile from forming.

“He’s right, though, joke or no.”  Kesla’s at our side now, which surprises me as much as Gael.  The look on her face is mostly reproach, but there’s subtle relief bubbling away underneath it.  She’s glad as I am Gael’s misfortune was something Krakka could fix so easy this time. “You gotta be more careful.”

“Hey, they had a wizard of their own, and she dropped an orc on me.”  Gael’s doing well to stand up to Kesla, especially in the face of that underlying concern that they’ve surely picked up on as well as I have.  “A bloody big one, at that.  I had no way to see that coming, so I had to roll with it, like you taught me.”

Kesla looks them over for a long moment, then finally lets out a deep sigh.  “Yeah, well you got bloody lucky that they clearly weren’t here to kill you.  From what I’ve been able to gather about what happened, those two literally just turned up to cover their own arses.”  She raises her hand and passes what she’s holding to Gael – their sword, which they pause before taking.  “But yeah, I guess maybe you did okay.  Sounds like you handled your shit this time.”

Gael cocks a brow as they turn the weapon round in their hand, giving her a moment’s cool regard before looking at the blade instead. They frown, and when I look down at the length of sharpened steel too I’m a beat or two slow getting what’s stumping me.  “Oh … yeah, I forgot about that.”

“Who was that?”  Kesla wonders as she catches the significance of the small amount of blood striping the blade.  “The orc?”

“No, I didn’t get that lucky.”  Gael keeps the tip pointed up as they start rummaging through their pockets, finally coming up with one of their weird little squares of thin white linen. Something called a handkerchief, I understand the concept but I never seen the point in them myself.  Far as I can work out it’s a privileged person’s thing. In truth I almost never see Gael using one either.  “This was from the other one.”

“The wizard?”  Kesla arches her brows, unable to quite keep the hope out of her voice.

“Ha!”  Gael shakes the fabric open and gently wipes it up and down the edge to remove the worst of the blood.  “That’d be something, wouldn’t it?  No, the other one.  The leader of these idiots.  Some cocky fellow wearing a flashy wolf mask.”

“You fought him?” The accented voice surprises me. It’s soft but a little gritty, a bit like Kesla’s but not quite so deeply husky.  I turn with the others to find the dwarf woman stepping up to us, looking at Gael with a mixture of expectation and subtle frustration. “That bastard was mine.  He ain’t with the dead.  Got away, did he?”

“For now.”  Gael finishes her cleaning and flips her hand over, offering the now heavily stained handkerchief to me.  “But with this, I just might be able to trace him.”

Frowning, I reach out with a little reluctance and extend my claws just enough that I can take hold of the linen without having to handle it too much.  “Charmin’.”

This makes Gael grin wide as she finally sheathes her sword.  “Magic can be messy sometimes, Art.  But there’s a lot of power in blood.  This will be very helpful.”  She plucks the linen cloth from my fingers once again and starts to fold it into a tight little square.  “Hopefully.”

“Why don’t I like the sound o’ that?”  The dwarf’s frown deepens.

“Well, if that wizard is what I think she is, she’ll know pretty much everything I and Tulen do, so she’ll make that connection as soon as she sees that I cut him. We’ve already had a pretty good indication of some of what these people are capable of, what with those lethal tattoos they’ve slapped on all their people.  If they don’t want any of them talking –”

“They’re apt to cut his throat an’ call it survival.” Kesla growls, her own frown as dark as the dwarf woman’s.  “There any way they can just block your trace?”

“Oh yes, of course.”  Gael shrugs.  “If this was our only lead I’d be a little more concerned about it.  But since it isn’t …”  She looks past Kesla now.

The other dwarf’s stood over our one surviving captive now, leaning on one of the biggest warhammers I’ve ever seen in my life, substantial enough to give Bloodmoon trouble in a scrap, I should think.  The look he’s giving the battered young man could be mistaken for boredom, but there’s a steeliness to it that’s impressively intimidating.  Certainly it’s having the desired effect on the boy, who’s sat where he’s been left with his bound hands dangling between his raised kneed, his face slick with sweat but still a good deal healthier than any of the others’.  The goblin’s crouched across from him, his own glare a good deal more blatantly sharp, although I doubt his own face is capable of a great deal of variety.

Big Man stands several paces off, back to the nearer wall, and I don’t think he’s moved since he first took up position there after he arrived.  Not that he needs to, we know he’s fully aware of everything happening within a substantial range of this whole scene.  Yeslee’s camped out at the end of the alley, watching what’s going on in the street beyond, and while I can’t see her past the golem I know she’ll have an arrow nocked even if it ain’t drawn.  Just in case …

“So why ain’t this one dead like the others?”  Kesla strokes her chin, less thoughtful than fretful in this moment if I’m honest.  “We all saw what happens.  Even if they ain’t mortally wounded, they still cark it. What’s so special ‘bout this one?”

“It’s a stumper, I’ll give it that.”  I scratch the back of my head, frowning myself.

“Well I gave him a beating, the same as the others received.”  Gael casts about now as she stuffs the folded cloth into her components bag, frowning too, but I don’t think it’s over the current conundrum.  Finally she snaps her fingers and steps past Kesla, stooping close to the far wall of the alley so she can retrieve her staff from the gutter. She continues to frown as she regards the grime now smeared on the metal shaft.  “Lovely.”

“Maybe they put his on wrong?”  the dwarf woman ventures.

“No, I highly doubt that would be the case.”  Gael shakes another of her handkerchiefs loose and sets about wiping her staff clean, a look of controlled distaste touching her face now.  “As I said, their wizard likely had the same training I did, and what I saw tells me she’s definitely accomplished.  The fact that it has worked on all the others means that she’s clearly very good at her own craft, and since the tattoos themselves are clearly magical in their nature then she was at least partly involved in the creation of each one.  I’m sure she’d check each and every one of them was working before letting it pass, so that sigil will be as primed as the others were.”

“And yet it didn’t go off.”  Kesla breathes out deep through her nose as she regards our prisoner for a long beat.  “Wait. Gael … what was that you said about blood earlier?”

“That I might be able to use it to track the other one down.  Maybe.  But I said don’t bank on it, because they’re perfectly capable of foiling me on that route.”

“No.  Before. The other thing.  About it having power, I think.”

“Oh … yes.  I did.”  They blink, cocking their brow again as they look up from their cleaning.  “It does.  We tend to use blood in many of the most powerful spells we cast, either as a catalyst or a conductor.  Sometimes it’s used to bind the spell to a specific recipient, or we might use our own if we need to seal a pact for a desired effect, or –”

“You didn’t draw his blood, did you?”

Gael looks at her for a long time, their frown deepening again.  Not getting it.  I’ll admit, I’m stumped for a stretch before I make the connection too.  “Well … no, I suppose not.  I was using this, not my sword. I didn’t want to kill him, I thought that was the whole point. After all, we need him alive … oh … oh, now that is clever.  Devious, even.”

“You have to draw blood for the curse to work?”  I look round at all the other bodies.  Every one is bloodied or cleaved in some way.  Gael even cut that other one, apparently, although clearly he was still kicking enough to get away.  And the ones we fought before, up on the rooftops, they were all shot too, or … yeah, that’s right.  I used my darts on that one that Shay saw die.  As for the ones that fell or got thrown off the roofs, they were all broken when they hit the ground.  But not this one.  Gael just beat on him some.  They never broke his skin.  At worse there’s some bruising, maybe a fracture or too, but no bleeding. And that’s the difference.

“Blood is the trigger.” Gael finishes her cleaning at last, then looks down at the handkerchief in her hand.  It’s an unpleasant, grimy mess now.  “Yuck.”  She tosses it away without ceremony.

“Yeah, looks like.”  Kesla puffs her cheeks out, rubbing at the back of her neck as she continues to regard the boy.  “Until they work out we got him, maybe.  Y’know how this spell works, then?”

“Not exactly.  I know a fair few curses, mostly just so I know how to counter them. I’ve never had cause or any inclination to actually use any of them.  But this one … it’s strange magic, different from most. I mean all right, there are some similarities to some of the more potent blood curses, but … it’s strange, nasty stuff, to tell the truth. Almost like –”

“Like something Ashsong would’ve cooked up.”  I beat Kesla to that particular punchline, and she scowls, not from being trounced but simply the implication I’ve just laid bare.  I hate it as much as she does, really.  “You reckon that might’ve been another warlock, then?”

“Gods, I hope not …”  Gael frowns at the ground for a few moments, angrily thoughtful now, gripping their staff tight now as they lean into it.  “No, I don’t think so.  It’s pretty esoteric magic, but there’s nothing inherently eldritch about it. I’d definitely be curious to find out where they found that particular curse.”

“Maybe you’ll get a chance when we catch ‘em.” Kesla brushes her hair back over her head with both hands.  “You said you know how to counter curses.  Reckon you can do this one?”

“In theory, yes.  It’s likely to be tricky, though.”

“I could certainly help with that.”  Tulen surprises us all by speaking up then, I honestly didn’t realise she was there.  When Gael turns to face her they smile fondly, and there’s definitely some small relief in her expression.  “Counter-curses was one of the main requirements in training for my position in the Citadel, since we handle so many dangerous artifacts.”

“Good.  I want to two of you keeping a close eye on our young guest there.  Make sure he stays alive.”  Kesla squares her shoulders as she lays one hand on the hilt of her sword, the other on her corresponding hip.  She regards us all for a moment, particularly lingering on the dwarf woman.  Finally she turns back to Gael, letting out a little sigh as her expression starts to soften. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.”  Gael sighs after a moment, seeming a little sheepish now.  Tulen reaches out and wraps her arm around their shoulders, giving them a companionable squeeze.

“So …”  Kesla sighs again, and this one’s a good deal more weary.  Reckon I can commiserate with how she’s feeling, it’s been a bloody long day.  “This was a merry mess, but we finally got a decent result.  I’d call that a win, wouldn’t you?”

“After a fashion.”  the dwarf allows, a little sharp in her delivery now as she largely mirrors Kesla’s stance, looking up at her with a wary frown.  “Still love to know who all you folk are, mind.  I mean, clearly you got a stake in this same as us, but I’d be more comfortable if I knew what it was.”

Kesla shoots me a look, cocking her brow just a little, and I swear there’s just a spark of amusement in her now that I find in myself too.  Letting a crooked half-smile touch her lips that I can’t help mirroring, she extends her hand to her.  “Kesla Shoon. We’re the Creeping Bam, ‘least some of us are.  We’re here taking coin from the Silver Order.  Looking for one o’ their own’s gone missing.”

Looking at the offered hand for a moment, the dwarf woman cocks her head and gives Kesla a cool look-over before reaching out herself to accept it.  The shake looks firm, Kesla’s brow quirking a touch higher at it, and the newcomer holds on for a moment longer as she offers up:  “Thelgaewynn Frostforge.  Afraid we ain’t got a fancy name like you lot, but then we never really had need of one. We tend to go where there’s work, instead of the work coming to us.”

“Well you seem capable enough from what I saw.” Kesla turns to look back at the other two members of their party.  “And your friends?”

“Dumoli Bitterbrow.  As for the goblin, all he’s ever given us of a name is Brung.  Ain’t much for talking, really.”  The way she looks up at Kesla when she says that almost seems like a challenge.

“They don’t tend to be, I found.”  If she notices the implication she doesn’t rise to it. We’ve fought our share of goblins in our time, but only ever in defence of life, our own or others’.  This one seems particularly civilised, but I’d hardly call him an anomaly.  Then she nods to me.  “This is Art of Shadows.”

I’m jolted out of my reverie a little as the dwarf looks my way, giving me as close a once-over with her impressively sharp eyes as she did Kesla before finally offering her hand first so I have to scramble to catch up.  “Um … yeah. Hi.  So … Thelgaewynn?”

“Thel.  Just call me Thel.”  Her grip really is powerful, but I’m not surprised. Dwarves tend to be short, but they’re built for strength, all muscle and stubborn determination, which seems to fit here.  She’s cute, too, maybe a little different to how my taste usually runs, but definitely easy on my eyes.  I try a cocky, charming grin and all I get for it is the slightest quirk of a brow that feels witheringly dismissive.  As she finally lets go I look up at Kesla and see an amused little smile touch her lips, and it’s all I can do to keep from scowling at her.

“And this is our wizard, Gael Foxtail.”

Gael reaches down without needing to be prompted, and Thel takes their hand immediately, giving it what’s clearly a more modest, gentle pump than the one she gave me.  Not afraid to make a point then, this one.  Seems about right.  “Pleased to meet you.”

“So you’re Silver Order, then?”  Thel looks both Gael and Tulen over, as thorough in her regard of them as she’s been with the rest of us.  I’m getting the impression she might be one of the sharpest people in this entire alley right now.

“Tulen is.”  Gael nods to her friend, who blinks at them for a moment before venturing a disarming smile that’s maybe a little too full of sharp teeth to really work.  “I mean, yeah … I am too, but really I’m with the Creeping Bam first.  At least that’s the way I see it.”

“It’s how we see it too.”  I say it as seriously as I can, squaring up a little bit as I speak before realising what I’m doing.  I feel my cheeks start to flush and again I’m thankful I’m covered in fur.  I see Kesla roll her eyes and deal her a cold glare, but Gael’s smiling at me now, their own cheeks colouring a little.

“Tulen Kelsira.”  She holds out her own hand, and it’s clear she’s trying to maintain her smile but it’s starting to turn a bit nervous now, and I don’t blame her. The way Thel looks at everyone’s almost as strong as Yeslee’s glare when she’s proper evaluating something.  “Um … I’m new to the field, really, but yes. I’m very much here representing the Order.”

“Then it’s you we need to be talking to then, I’d say.  A friend told us if we came to the Round we could probably find help from the Order, so we came looking.  Wasn’t really expecting the help to come from fighters, but it’s appreciated all the same.”  Thel regards Tulen for a moment longer, then finally accepts her hand too.

“We’re all here together, really.”  Kesla interjects, folding her arms with a sterner look now.  “The Order hired the Creeping Bam, and Mistress Kelsira here’s mostly just tagging along for Gael’s sake.  We been looking for you, actually.”

Thel’s eyes meet Kesla’s again, narrowing tightly. “Us? What for?  Nobody’s been taking us seriously, ‘cept maybe these arseholes.  Mostly we just come up against a load of dead ends.”

“So have we, but one of ‘em nonetheless pointed us to you.  We heard you been looking for missing folk same as us, and what we just went through proves we’re both after the same bunch o’ bastards.”

Watching her for another thoughtful stretch, Thel finally lets out a deep sigh and twitches her hair from her eyes again as she turns back to her two friends.  “Du, looks like we’re covered.  Seems these are who we been waiting for.”

The other dwarf looks us over now, his goblin friend joining him in a much more discomfiting examination.  “You’re sure about that?  Just because they turned up in the middle of our fight doesn’t automatically mean they’re on our side.”

“These two are Silver Order.  Like Grel said, we should find some.”  Thel cocks her head.  “You’re the expert, Du.  They on the level?”

Dumoli looks at Gael and Tulen with an even more critical eye, which I wouldn’t have thought was quite possible, then simply steps away from his charge, leaving Brung to guard the wounded prisoner on his own. To his credit, the goblin just steps right up to stand right over the boy, that fanged snout barely a foot away from his own as he presses himself right into the wall in nervous surprise.  Those blazing bright yellow eyes are locked on his target now, unblinking as they are unflinching.  I can’t help smiling a little, it’s kind of endearing.  Reckon I get why they’re so comfortable having him round.

Finally stopping just a foot short of me, Dumoli gives the pair one last look-over.  Finally his expression starts to soften again as he lets out a slow breath.  “Yeah, they seem pretty legit to me.  You locals, then?”

“No, Du.  ‘Parently they’re here for the same shit we are, just different day.”  Thel gives Kesla a more complex look. “They’re sellswords, mostly.  Like us.  This one’s proper Order, they hired the Creeping Bam to help find some missing folk.”

“The Creeping Bam?”  Dumoli’s brow cocks and I wait for the incredulity, but it doesn’t come. Instead he regards Kelsa too, critical again, but with a good deal less hostility underlying it now.  “I’ve heard that name a few times recently, actually. Apparently they mostly work the Northern Reaches.  This is a good deal further south for you, I should think.”

“We go where we’re sent, Master Bitterbrow.” Kesla replies, earning a further brow raise at her formal address.  “Besides, Art here’s a native of these climes.  As for our business, well, Gael’s da’s one o’ the missing.”

“That so?”  His critical eye turns from mine to Gael, which is a relief, but only a small one.

Thel’s regarding them again too, but her frown suggests she’s going over things in her head.  “Foxtail … as in Darion Foxtail?”

Now Dumoli’s regard softens a little, although I’m not sure if it’s at the mention of that particular name or the slightly squirmy look that starts to cross Gael’s face as their cheeks flush again.  “Well now that is interesting.”

“All right, so my father’s famous, it’s not such a big deal really.”  Gael waves their hand about dismissively, getting redder still as they’re clearly growing flustered, and I shoot Kesla a look of warning now.  This really ain’t fair, not right now.  Far as I can tell she ignores me.

“Honestly, I think it’s more worrying than interesting, anyway.”  Tulen interjects, clearly siding with me on the matter.  “If someone of Darion’s power and talent can fall foul of these people then it doesn’t bode well for us, surely.”

Dumoli looks to Thel, and their fresh intrigue seems to sour a little together.  The dwarf woman starts to frown as she flicks her hair out her eyes again, while her companion grimaces.  “Good point. I don’t like that idea any more than you do.”

“It’s a quandary, you’re right there.”  Thel sighs.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a long day, and this is a big mess we’re standing in the middle of.  I don’t wanna push our luck any more’n we can get away with, so …”  Kesla turns to look back towards my fellow Guild members, who are still stood next to the stuck sword.  They don’t look too comfortable being round each other, and a I suspect Dar’s been giving Zul a bit of a rough time about our continued association since this all started earlier today.

Finally Kesla turns back to Gael, who’s leaning into their staff with another tight two-handed grip while they try to avoid everyone’s eyes.  They’re taken a little by surprise when Kesla speaks directly to ‘em.  “You’re all right now, then?”

“What?”  They scrabble for a beat, trying to work out what she means.  “Um … oh, yes.  It’ll serve, I suppose.  I’m a little tired, though.”

“Reckon that makes all of us.”  She reaches out now to give their good shoulder a companionable squeeze, then turns to Tulen.  “I trust you got through to Daste, right?”

Gael’s friend blinks, a little surprised by the sudden swerve in the conversation, but catches up quick enough.  “Oh, yes.  She’s aware now, and I sent your warning along with the message.  She’s being very careful about who she’s sending and who she informs.  Sounds a little overly paranoid, to be honest, but I did as you asked.”

“Let’s just hope I was being paranoid.  Last thing we need is to tip ‘em off any more’n they already are about what went down here.  And I don’t wanna be here any longer, just in case the townsguard suddenly decide to get their act together and follow up on all this noise.  Or worse, if the Terrors stumble on us out here with a load of proper suspicious corpses, ‘specially after dark.”  She turns to me now.  “Your friends on the ball?”

This time it’s my turn to wonder about what she’s driving at, but then I remember.  Nodding, I turn to my former companions again.  “Dar!”

She jumps a little as I clearly snap her out of a fretful reverie, and the glare she casts my way is pure venom.  “What?”

“Don’t gimme that shit.”  I fight the urge to roll my eyes.  “Your little protégé still around?”

Despite my warning, she still gives me another moment’s hard stare for good measure before turning back to whistle down the far end of the alley.  Bare seconds later the diminutive form of the scrawny urchin boy she introduced us to as Joe comes jogging out of the gloom, stopping just short of Dar and giving me essentially the same suspicious look as the first time we saw each other.  He’s around seven or so, filthy and mop-haired and shabby, but already he’s close to her height, which I couldn’t resist giving her a little dig about earlier.

Through the corner of my eye I see Thel shift warily, her hand going back to the axe on her right hip, but she seems to relax a little as she makes the connection.  Clearly coming to the same conclusion the others did when introduced to some of the Guild’s youngest members, those still in training that form our plain sight intelligence network.  I remember those days myself, when we were just starting to learn the ropes, and we spent most of our downtime keeping our eyes open for anything our seniors might be able to use, whether information or opportunity. Looking back I ain’t sure I’m all that fond of ‘em any more.

Dar gives me a look now, cocking her head, and while it’s still mostly contemptuous seems there’s a little curiosity now. Wondering what I want, but she won’t do me the favour of asking straight out so she expects me to just read her meaning. This time I can’t quite help rolling my eyes a touch.  “How’s it looking out there?”

Joe regards me for another beat before turning to Dar, who nods.  Wiping his nose on his sleeve, he turns back to me as he lets out a heavy sigh laden with irritation, then instead of answering directly he leans in to whisper in her ear.

“So far we’re clear.”  She relays it with a voice rife with irritation.  “Guards ain’t come calling yet, but reckon it’s more cuz this weren’t actually all that loud in the end.  Terrors ain’t shown yet, either.  You’re good for now.”

“Fine.  Maybe send Cobb a little request to do a little mop-up, just in case?”

Cocking her head the other way, Dar’s look becomes even more sarcastic now.  “I know how this shit works, fur-brain.  We’re on it already.”

I almost have to bite my tongue to stop the retort that wants to spring back at her, instead counting to ten before I finally plough on.  “Yeah, I get that.  I know how it works too, after all.  Your lad there seen anything else?  Besides us and them and all this shit, anything else at all that looks suspicious. Y’know?”

“How the hell would I know that? That’s one fucking vague-arse question you just asked for after hours in this part of Untermer.”

This time I just give her a glare of equal magnitude to the evil ones she’s been casting, and after a long beat she growls under her breath before turning back to Joe and leaning close to his ear so they can have another whispered little conference.  This one seems to go on for what feels like a minute or more, but I suspect it’s just my continuing irritation at this situation that’s just gnawing on me.  Finally she steps away, patting him on the shoulder, and the boy gives me another icy look before turning and running from the alley again at a much harder pelt than he came in with.

“Oh for the love of … oi!  We weren’t done with –”

“Joe said there’s been nothing suspicious in the area ‘sides what we already know about, Art.  No strangers they can’t account for, nothing out the ordinary.  Just us, and this.  Far as he’s concerned your golem’s the craziest shit he’s seen here all month.”  She cocks her head as she sets her hands on her hips, leaning onto her left foot that way she always did, used to make me crazy.  Tell the truth there’s a little part of me starts waking up again seeing it. Even with that expression she’s wearing. “Less you wanted to ask him something I can’t begin to fathom, we don’t need ‘em any more tonight, do we?”

To be honest, I can’t really fault her logic. I look at her for a moment longer, then tear my eyes away, inwardly chastising myself for even thinking about entertaining any of those thoughts again, and turn back to Kesla.  Looks like she’s just been waiting the whole time, arms folded, her own head cocked, looking down at me with a surprising amount of patience.  “Yeah, reckon that’s that.”

“Good.  I don’t wanna be here anymore, we tempted fate enough already.”  She looks round for a moment longer, but no longer taking in the scene, now more like she’s counting heads of the living.  A little frown touches her brow now.  “Where’s Shay?”

“Oh …”  I turn back to look down to the far end of the alley, past Dar and Zul. Beyond the illumination of the hanging globe, where the shadows are drawn in tight now, but I can still make her out well enough.  Almost all the way at the end, leaning against the wall, looking out into the street beyond.  “She’s down there.  Said she wanted to keep an eye out that way, just in case.”  I lick my lips as I turn back to Kesla, not quite sure how I’m gonna phrase it.  “She … I dunno … reckon something might be off with ‘er.”

Kesla looks past me, all the way to the end, but even if the light overhead wasn’t killing any chance for her own nightvision I doubt she’d be able to see the half-orc now anyway.  Her frown deepens, and there’s concern under it again. “Right … okay, Art, I need you an’ yours to help pack up what you can.  Might as well check the bodies over before we light out, but make sure nothing happens to the live one, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss.  What you gonna be doing?”

For a moment it’s like she’s debating whether to be straight with me or not, but I don’t think that’s it.  Instead she simply gives Gael a little tap on the shoulder, signalling for her to follow, which prompts a slight eyebrow raise but they come along quick enough as she heads past me.  Kesla pauses a little short of Dar and Zul, though, looking down at the sword in the wall for a long moment before turning back to me again.

“By the way, what exactly is the deal with that orc?”

Managing to keep myself from wincing, I just take a deep breath and kick my feet a little, trying to put my best unflustered face on.  It don’t feel too convincing to me.  “Honestly? Tell you ‘bout it later, yeah boss?”

Her look convinces me she sees right through me, but this seems to be good enough for now since she simply nods.  “Sure.  We’ll talk about that once we’re settled.”  Then she gives me a sharp look and I realise there was more to that statement than even I was thinking about, and it looks like she’s ahead of me again.  Ain’t like it’s the first time.

TO BE CONTINUED ...

[themrsackerman]

Angel of Paradis

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Warnings: Spoilers from Season 4. Mentions of gun violence, blood, death

A/N: Now I know EP8 is only the beginning of the end but goddamn it hurts!! I love potato girl and losing her just tore me to bits. So here, take this. Its my way of coping I guess..

Levi is pissed off. From the start, he disliked the plan but it wasn't like Eren gave you all much of a choice. So the moment the kid got on the airship, he was welcomed with one of the captain's infamous kicks. The cockpit wall quakes with the impact and Hange sighs, shooting you a look. "I think you need to get out there and make sure Levi doesn't kill Eren, Y/n." She says exasperatedly and you nod, rising from your seat next to Onyankopon.

"I'll be right back." You say and she flashes you a knowing grin, shaking her head slightly. Even the commander knows you're the only one who could reign in the Levi Ackerman.

You see Levi on the corner glaring at Eren as he was being tied up. You sigh heavily, seeing Eren steaming as he heals. Jaw probably unhinged from the captain's kick. You sat beside him on the bench and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping his face clean from dirt and blood.

"Y/n-san." He greets you monotonously and you gave him a kind smile. "Hey, kid." You greet back, tucking loose strands of his now long hair behind his ear.

Your heart aches at the sight. He used to have so much fire, had the same will to fight for humanity that you only ever saw in your mentor, Erwin. Now all you see is ember of pure hatred and cold blooded need for revenge. "I'm glad you're okay." You murmur. Eren's blank stare softens for a second and a small smile hints the corner of his mouth. "Glad to see you too, Lieutenant." He says quietly and out of the corner of your eyes, you see Levi roll his eyes and make a disgruntled sound as he turns around.

You walk up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Levi meets your gaze with his dull gray ones for a second and sighs, his expression softening too. At this you smile a little and say, "We still have a long battle to fight ahead of us, Captain. Things might not have gone smoothly, but we won today." You remind him and as if proving your point, right on the other side of the ship you hear the soldiers celebrate as they reunite.

"You're right." He agrees. Levi then takes a deep breath and grabs the hand you placed on his shoulder so he can bring it to his face. He turns his head and placed a chaste kiss on your palm. Your heart flutters at the gesture. It isn't grand but was still something you couldn't quite get used to. You two never declared your love for one another, never really had the luxury of time or chance to do so, but small acts like this was enough to let you know that your presence provided him the calm he sorely needs. And that was all you want. Be his peace in this war.

"I'm going to check if the rest of the squad made it back up." You tell him, grazing your thumb on his lower lip and he reluctantly lets you go. "Be back as soon as you can. Meeting will start as soon as this fucking monkey heals enough." He says, cold glare flashing at the other Jaeger who is a pile of steam still laying on the ground. "Okay, I'll just check on Lima's squad. They're the last ones to be picked up supposedly." Levi nods again and watches you leave before turning to talk to Yelena.

You smile past Floch and the other soldiers who are weeping, hugging and making their tributes for those whom had fallen in battle. You then saw three of the soldiers you've grown close with through the years. They were huddled in the corner, sharing a hug.

You hear Jean say in protest, "Dont hug people with that lump ass iron gear on.", while shrugging off Connie's arm. You chuckle at this and tackled him back to the embrace. "Shut the hell up, Jean. I would take Connie's armored hugs any day!" To which the trio whines out, " Lieutenant Y/l/n!!" when you squished them tight.

Although the new gear designed by Hange was in deed not made for hugging, you four relaxed in the uncomfortable embrace. Grounded by the fact that you all made it safe despite the battle you had just gone through. Connie and Sasha smile up at you while Jean tries to still look annoyed, although the softness in his eyes says otherwise.

The soldiers left below start coming in and the cheering just grows even louder. You didn't have the heart to stop them because you yourself are quite happy that today was a success despite some casualties. Now, you have the War Hammer titan as well and were able to destroy the fleet. Now, the Eldians' chance stands higher against this damn war.

"Did you hear that just now?"

Sasha asks out of the blue and you turn to her in wonder. Honestly you couldn't hear anything but the soldiers celebrating. But out of the lot of you, you know Sasha's sense of hearing is far superior than all of you combined. So you take a step back from the crowd and actually looked around.

"Hey, quiet down!!"Jean yells over the chanting but Floch shouts, "Make some noise! Victory!!!" And was echoed by the rest as they embraced and pumped their fists in the air.

"Hey!" Jean tries again only to be pulled by Connie to the side to ask, "Isn't Lobov-san still out there?"

"No, I think he came aboard." Jean says thoughtfully and this was when something didn't sit quite right with you. Commander Lobov is a man that is hard to miss. And with his dedication to this mission to make up for his years being a useless garrison, he would be amongst the soldiers cheering the loudest for the said victory.

Your instincts has never failed you before and its the very reason why you are so good at your job and able to survive this long. But sometimes, you wish that your instincts aren't always right because you always perceive danger. And right now, every fiber of your being is telling you something is fucking wrong.

That if you were to look out the airship right now, you'll probably see the commander lifeless.

Or worse, an enemy may have made its way up to the ship.

Your blood runs cold for a split second before you acted purely out of instinct. You shove Sasha to the side, dreading as you head for the airship's side door and at the exact moment.. someone aboards.

Your gaze met the kid's muddy brown ones. It was determined, filled with fury and you saw that there isn't any trace of hesitation as her finger pulls the trigger. You knew you didn't stand a chance judging by look on her face and her sure aim on your torso. The word of warning you want to let out was caught in your throat as she fires.

You remember seeing those crazed brown eyes and then the ceiling of the airship the next. The sensation of what can only be compared to fire piercing your skin spreads through your chest and insides like molten metal. You hear the indistinct noise of the soldiers' voices grow louder yet muffled at the same time around you.

From happy cheers to manic, hysterical screaming.

You couldn't catch your breath at first and you aren't sure from which. Was it from falling flat on your back? Or was it the searing pain that made tears leak from your eyes?

And then above the chaos, you hear your three closest comrades call your name in unison.

"Lieutenant Y/n, hey!!!" Connie's frantic voice shrill through the limited space of the ship. "Hang in there, hey!" You feel him rattle you, placing his rough calloused hand against your cheek. Jean's panic stricken face comes to your field of vision and you whimper,  "A kid." You gasp. "In the airship."

"Bandages! Now! We need to stop the bleeding!" Jean commands shakily and the rest of the soldiers that aren't capturing the two intruders scramble to get the med kit and the captain.

"Y/n-san, please hold on until we make it to the island!!" Connie pleads but hopelessness crawls his veins as he sees your blood flood the wooden floors.

"Keep him safe." You whisper out to nobody. The captain in mind. Your eye lids grow heavy but you didn't want to close them. No. You can't die. You promised him.

"Don't you dare die on me, Y/l/n." His voice echoes in your mind, compelling you to keep breathing despite how excruciating it feels.

Sasha who was frozen at first, snapped out of her shock as she hears Connie's voice call your name out of sheer panic when your eyes fall close. She then runs to meet the soldier carrying the bandages and was at your side in an instant. With trembling hands, Sasha tries with all her might to wrap you up and stop the bleeding.

"No, no, no, no!!" She starts sobbing while watching the bandage turn red, your gushing blood seeping through no matter how tight she puts the wrap around you. "Y/n-san, no, you can't leave us like this." Sasha hiccups, wiping her tears hastily before grabbing your now cold clammy hand and pressing it to her face. "Please!" She cries, eyes falling close.

If you hadn't pushed her, if you didn't step in her place, it would have been her that got shot. Guilt rakes through her as she watches you desperately fight for your life.

You can feel yourself drifting and you felt helpless. You then meet Sasha's, Jean's and then Connie's gaze, muttering with your remaining strength, "Protect him." And it was no request but an order.

Jean stumbles away, his hands going over his ears, unable to stand your labored breaths and Connie and Sasha's whimpering. Jean felt like hurling when Floch turned the kids to him. The other responsible for you being on the brink of death.

But to those two kids, they are the enemies who wreck havoc to their hometown. Floch wanted to kill them and throw them out but what good would that do? Would taking their lives save yours? And knowing you, who practically treat soldiers like them like your kids even though you were just a few years older than them, you would be disappointed in him at the mere thought of hurting these kids.

Jean can almost hear your angelic voice, "They're just children." You would say. So with a vexed expression and heavy turmoil growing within him, he ties them up and led them to where the captain and commander are.

Jean swallows hard when the captain's cold gaze met his and asks, "Who are these kids?"

By the looks of it, he still does not know.

"They killed Lobov-san and used his gear to come aboard." A lump forms in his throat, suddenly can no longer meet the captain's gaze. "A-and this one here, she.. shot Lieutenant Y/l/n."

Levi's eyes widen. Did he just hear Jean correctly? You? Shot? You were with him just minutes ago. No, how is that possible?-

"Captain, I-I don't think she'll make it." He continues, voice faltering. The grievance in Jean's face make Levi's blood run cold. He stumbles forward a bit as Armin and Mikasa run past him but he seemed frozen in his tracks.

No.

You got hurt but you'll pull through this. You always have. You promised him. And you are one of the toughest people he knows.

Levi tries to convince himself as he glared back at Zeke. He tries to distract himself from the cold fear of losing you with the blinding rage he feels for the Beast Titan wielder. But then, the door swings open again and Levi felt something terribly wrong right away.

And when Connie appears with tears sliding down his face and says,

"Y/n-san.. is dead."

Levi's entire world shifts.

Everyone was shellshocked for a moment. Because how could you be gone just like that? When you were just with them just minutes ago providing comfort to all of them? Passing by and giving them a wave of peace and calmness like the angel that you are.

Hange wobbles, her knees growing weak and its as if someone had punched her in the chest. The pain reminiscent as the day she watched Moblit vanish before her eyes. You were her right hand woman. Her confidant.

Eren's head hung in disbelief. His mind clouded by your kind smile just earlier and telling him you're actually glad to see him. Him. The monster who had just devastated a whole town and killed probably thousands of people. He thought that by now, he'd have gotten used to losing the people around him but losing you is gutting him. Its was like losing family. A sister.

"Connie.. did Y/n-san have any last words?" He asks mindlessly, wanting to know what your last thoughts were. Connie blinks through his tears and his eyes drifts to the captain, whose face was undreadable and knuckles threatening to split open at how tightly his balled fists are clenched.

"She said.. 'Protect him.'" Connie mutters and Levi's facade breaks.

The mob of weeping soldiers parted as the captain staggers to the back of the ship where you lay. Armin and Mikasa were still curled up beside you, their faces red and puffy from wailing. Both of them reluctantly stood up and stepped away as he walks closer. His gaze was still trained on the ground as he puts one foot in front of the other.

He shudders and stop midstep as his foot steps on the crimson stained wood. Before he knows it, he falls on his knees with a thud. Your pale hand comes into his field of vision and he takes a deep shakey breath as he reaches for it. His eyes darts everywhere but your face. The bandage on your middle, the boots on your feet that he had his fair share of shinning as his token of appreciation for you making his morning teas, the emblem of the Wings of Freedom embedded on your breast plate.

Your hand felt cold and stiff against his. A stark contast of the warmth it exuded on his cheek just moments ago.

"Y/n?" He croaks.

Suddenly his breathing shallows as the deafening silence stretches on. He can still smell you but can no longer feel you although you're right fucking there. Levi wanted this to some fucked up nightmare. But then, as he steels his nerves and finally looked at your face, his heart shatters.

Your hair is uncharacteristically dishevelled, e/c eyes lifeless, pupils middilated and your mouth parted ever so slightly.

Levi pulls you in his arms frantically, plethora of would have been and should have been anchoring his heart into a sea of regret.

He should have never let you out the damn door.

He should have held you tighter.

He should have you talked to you longer.

He should have told you.. he loves you.

He never even got to tell you.

Levi's face crumples, face reddening before a resentful yell erupts from him. The soldiers wince at the sound. It was pure agony and it pierces through each and everyone of them, bringing the lot of them back to tears if they ever stopped in the first place.

The entire flight back to Paradis, Levi held you the way he wished he did while you were still with him.

[yandere-sins]

Good evening or morning (wherever you are).... My request for today is Kaeya from genshin impact. What if he were to confess his love to a timid reader but *gasps* she reveals she has a boyfriend already. Smut is fine if you want.

Thank you so much 🦋

Thank you for requesting!! ♥ Part 2 of my trying to get back into smut OTL

Rated Lemon/Explicit!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««   

Even after everything that happened, you weren't able to forget the look on Kaeya's face as you broke the news.

True, you and your boyfriend had wanted to keep your relationship on the low, but not because you tried to deceive your friends, just so you two could have some peace while finding out more about each other and developing your feelings. But you never meant for anyone to look at you so... disappointed. Even if you were happy with your choice of partner, having to reject someone dear to you still hurt.

"Oh, [Name]," Kaeya sighed, shaking his head. Of course, he wouldn't be happy to hear the person he just asked out confess that they had a boyfriend. Perhaps especially because you two had always been relatively close, even more so lately where you were out almost every day after work. You felt a tinge of regret not telling him earlier. Save him the embarrassment you assumed he must feel. Then again, how could you have known that the charismatic Kaeya had feelings for you? He could have any woman in town, so why had it to be you? Of all people, you wouldn't have expected Kaeya to confess his love to you. Even if you two always got along fine, you thought yourself to look rather gray next to the shining knight that Kaeya was. Someone who wasn't fit to be anything more than friends with him.

"W-We can still continue being friends?" was the best and stupidest comfort you could come up with on the spot. You saw his grimace of disapproval, and it took him a second to collect himself, taking a deep breath before pushing himself away from the wall he had leaned on after learning the truth. Kaeya truly appeared devastated by the realization that you were taken already, and part of you could understand him. Certainly, you had just ruined his night and whatever companionship you two had, just because you couldn't have been more open from the beginning. It would have at least saved him some heartache, if any.

"Friends?" Kaeya mumbled, unfolding his crossed arms as he walked back to your side, leaning on the backrest of your chair. Feeling uncomfortably cornered, you stood up, looking around you. The outside of the tavern was lonely, and Kaeya had chosen this place for his confession surely to avoid any curious listeners. There were still voices coming from inside Angel's Share, but the streets of Mondstadt were quiet at this time of the night, with only his smooth voice reaching out to you. "With all due respect..."

Wrapping his fingers around your chin, you were forced to look up, staring right back into the mocking expression of your 'friend', the mood suddenly shifting. You had regretted having to reject Kaeya's feelings before, Kaeya always having been a good friend to you and hurting him felt wrong. But you would come to regret it much more that you went outside with him, away from the safety of the masses.

"I'd rather be anything else than your 'friend'."

»»————————

"Come on, Dove! Say it! I'm better than him, aren't I?"

"N-No--"

Your attempt to refuse this assumption was meekly interrupted by your loud gasps as Kaeya pushed forward. The curve on his cock was so perfectly aligned inside of you, constantly hitting the good spots whenever he plowed it inside. A cocky grin was on his face as he showed you off in the reflection of the mirror before you, spread over his legs and hanging in his grip on you. It was the biggest taunt he could think of, constantly reminding you how good you were feeling despite your initial refusal of him.

The image inside of the mirror wasn't one you had ever seen of yourself. That sweaty, drooling mess of a human, eyes unfocused and yet filled with pleasure, was nothing you could relate to. And yet, except for the occasional blue strands of hair falling over your skin and peeking out from behind your shoulder, your brain recognized the sight as you. Still, it was hard to accept this side of yourself, especially with his marks and hands. All. Over. It.

Kaeya only laughed as you tried to refute him, smirking a cocky grin from behind you. "Oh? Did Mr. Boyfriend not touch you yet? Even though you're such a little slut?"

His hand falling between your legs, Kaeya first brushed up your thighs, causing you to squirm from the sensation. His hands were trained and roughed up from handling swords, but the way he used them showed how skilled he was. Settling at your clit, he slowed down the rocking of his hips for a moment to get his fingers wet with your juices before picking up the pace again. There was no way you could deny how you were feeling after riding him for the better portion of time ever since he brought you to this city apartment of his, your body shivering and moving on its own with his hand teasing your clit, the additional pleasure riling you up.

"Look at your cunt gaping open for me~" he purred, opening your lower lips wide for the mirror to reflect your exposed entrance. Seeing how his shaft disappeared inside you clearly, you only felt hotter from embarrassment, turning your head which was quickly caught by his free hand, Kaeya turning it forward again - painfully so. His grip wasn't even close to how he had touched you before when you two had still been 'only' drinking buddies. You weren't sure how long he had feelings for you, but you wagered that these feelings must have changed much in the last hour, just like his touch. It once had been so gentle, kind. But now, it was rough and demanding, leaving no room for how you felt.

"Let go!" you said firmly, tearing yourself from his grip to avoid looking at this strange self in the reflection. You felt ashamed and embarrassed. Kaeya made a fool out of you, now that he had you in this peculiar situation. It's not like you wanted to cheat on your boyfriend and betray him in any kind. But your body reacted positively to it, making Kaeya chuckle as you tightened around him after seeing yourself, "You are enjoying it a lot, aren't you?"

It brought tears to your eyes, knowing it was Kaeya deeply lodged inside of you, but your sobs were just another incentive for him to continue. You couldn't even blame him for that - they did sound a lot like sounds of pleasure that overtook their place. Soon you were back to gasping and moaning, glad you at least weren't begging him for more with how shameful you behaved.

"You can still leave him," Kaeya suggested. Though a smile still played around his lips before he hid them behind your shoulder, kissing it tenderly, he sounded very serious. "Leave him and stay with me. No one needs to know what kind of slut you are, going behind his back."

"But I didn't!" you sobbed. "You forced me too-- You forced yourself on me!"

Without hearing the sigh falling off Kaeya's lips, you found yourself breathing in sharply as he made a sudden push, burying his cock even deeper inside of you, the base of it touching your body. The gasp was followed by a long moan, tears streaming down your face after he exploited your sensitivity so much. It was a regrettable, disgusting moan signaling how much you enjoyed him hitting these sweet spots of yours.

Your gaze fell back to the mirror, showing the pleasure-stricken expression on your face. Even though you knew you shouldn't feel this way, Kaeya simply seemed to know all the right things to do, and he used all of them. It was bitter, but he did make you feel... erotic. Made you feel like something you never saw yourself as. Something your boyfriend couldn't make you feel.

With him, it was sugary-sweet puppy love, but with Kaeya, there was so much more. Desire, carnal at that. Love, demands, obsession. No matter how either of you moved your body, it was exciting, making your heart race. Every glance at yourself in the mirror made your body tingle, and every one of his pushes sent waves of excitement up your spine. You wished to have experienced these things with the person you truly loved instead of the hawk watching you from behind.

"I know," he mumbled, his hands driving up from your pussy to your chest, giving your breasts an equal squeeze. Taking in a sharp breath, you held back, instead having Kaeya be the one to groan lowly into your shoulder as you tightened around him. "I'll take so much better care of you than that boy. I can make you your true self, don't you think? You're wasted on everyone but me."

"Just finish it," you breathed heavily, and Kaeya sighed.

"As you wish."

Picking you up by the legs, Kaeya hoisted you up into the air, taking a few steps forward to stand right in front of the mirror. It was a breathtaking sensation to feel his cock carving you out from the dynamic motions, your walls gladly welcoming every inch before confining his member inside. You really could do without a closer look at how his cock slid in and out of you, sloppy sounds and tingling sensations running through you, but it almost made you wonder if you'd be able to experience the same sensations that Kaeya put you through, ever again once this was over.

"Hope you're ready for what you wished for," he reminded you, and you instantly began to realize alarming innuendos in his choice of words and the teasing tone of his voice, struggling in his hold.

"N-Not inside!" you yelled at him, slinging one arm over his head to be the one to tightly grip his face this time. "You can't cum inside!"

"Oh, really?" he taunted you. You squeezing his cheeks together didn't change the fact that he could grin like a Cheshire cat out of fairytales. "Give me one good reason not to."

"I can't bear your baby! I just can't!"

Grinning even wider, Kaeya let you drop a few inches to kiss your nose. "You'll need to do better than that."

Biting your lip, you thought about what he could want to hear from you, eventually realizing the level you'd have to stoop to. A baby would ruin everything, especially if it was Kaeya's baby. Even if things wouldn't turn out the worst way possible, it would still be a lifelong reminder of this ordeal he put you through. Your pride was worth nothing in exchange for the future you always wanted to have.

"P-Please..." you mumbled, the quick pace with which he was ramming into you making it hard to speak. At the same time, it urged you to hurry, as it wouldn't be long now before he'd fulfill the deed inside of you.

"I can't hear you~"

"Please don't cum inside me!"

Halting abruptly, Kaeya looked at the mirror image of you two, thinking for a split second before he resumed the pounding--this time, determined to finish. It was almost like you were hit by thunder, every movement releasing more shocks through you. You were a panting mess, but Kaeya wasn't far from it either. His eye would close halfway as he sunk into pleasure with you, both of you falling deeper and deeper into this hole.

Until it was finally over, your body curving and stretching, Kaeya's grip tightening to hold you throughout your orgasm, fingers digging into your supple thighs. Closing your eyes, you felt like flying, carried by a cloud, away from all the bad things and surrounded by the comforts and excitement that only intimacy could cause. You were almost lost in the orgasm before a part of you recalled the danger that was Kaeya, but much to your relief, when you opened your eyes again, he pushed in deep for the last time before suddenly lifting your up and off his cock.

Spurts of white semen shot through the air, landing on your reflection's stomach almost exactly where it would have landed inside of you. Both of you huffing, exhausted and spent, you watched as it dripped off the slick surface, leaving its stains there rather than inside of you.

Kaeya finally dropped you down, your legs unsteady, but his hold never ceased and kept you up. "Thank you..." you muttered, finding it hard to believe that after all he did, you were still thanking him for not cumming inside. Finding yourself in his arms rather than the ground, you refused the kiss he wanted to plant on your lips, instead turning your cheek, but Kaeya didn't seem to mind.

"I think you owe me something," he whispered into your ear before you felt his teeth bit into your lobe, making you flinch. "I did pull out like you asked me to."

"I owe you nothing, you... you bastard! You fiend! You...!" Your feelings took the upper hand as you heard what he demanded from you now. It was hard not to raise your voice when he dared to tell you about what you owed him after taking you against your will.

Laughing out loud, Kaeya quickly composed himself again, pretending to be hurt. "Ouch. I didn't know you knew these kinds of words."

A sudden rough pull in your hair yanked your head back, your body arching under the force and pressing against his while Kaeya towered over you, never letting his gaze stray from you. "Call me what you want. I don't care what you think, I'm not your friend, remember? I am anything but your stupid, little friend."

This time he took your mouth as he pleased, ramming his lips into yours and slipping his tongue down your throat. When he finally spoke again, his words were nothing but threatening to you, an anxious knot building in your stomach.

"That's why you'll break up with that asshole, you understand?"

"Why would I! Just leave me alone! You had what you wanted!"

"You still don't understand it," Kaeya sighed, releasing your hair briefly before tangling it around his fingers again, pulling you back even further and making you fear your spine would snap. "You are what I want! You belong to me! I was nice this time, but I will change if I must. Break up with him and make it easy for both of you. And then you'll come back to warm my bed, understand?"

Gulping, you put on a brave face, trying to face his stare head-on. This was getting out of control; you couldn't let him win with all his endeavors! No matter how you thought about Kaeya before, this wasn't the man you had come to like and appreciate in the past. He was something, but you could only hope it was still a human.

"And what if I don't?" you asked, using all the courage left inside of you.

"Oh darling, believe me," he laughed, unexpectedly pulling away all of his hands, your body unable to keep itself up and plummeting to the floor. Instant waves of shock and pain hit you, but when he stepped between your legs, you couldn't help but look up to him. How could you have been so wrong about a person you spent so much time with? Who was this man claiming to love you?

"You will do as I say, or everyone will know what kind of slut you really are. Especially your fine boyfriend. Who do you think the people will believe - their charming cavalry captain or some random chick that was seen laughing and hanging around him a lot?"

You opened your mouth to protest, wanting to prove him wrong, wanting to tell him Mondstadt cared about you as much as they did about him. But... was this wrong to assume? Would they really believe your word against his? With a reputation like Kaeya had, would you stand a chance to win against him? You couldn't imagine living a different life than you had so far, so would you be able to deal with the branding of a cheater? Realizing these questions, you closed your mouth again, scrambling to get up and collect your clothes from the ground. You were ready to storm out of the room, just go home and forget about everything that happened but reaching for the doorknob, Kaeya approached you from behind, holding the door shut with his hand.

"Don't hate me too much, okay? I really, really love you, [Name]."

He sounded anxious as he whispered these words against your head, leaving a trail of kisses. How could you believe this? How could you believe any of what he was saying? Just now, he had forced you into a level of intimacy you hadn't been ready for, threatened you, and made demands. And now he came to you, showing these rare moments of vulnerability and insecurity that made you special before all of this went down. What could you still believe about Kaeya?

"This isn't love," you mumbled, twisting and turning the knob to leave, deciding you couldn't listen to his voice anymore.

"You'll come to understand that this is love," Kaeya chuckled. You could hear the bittersweet smile on his lips as he planted one more kiss on top of your shoulder before he pushed himself away, letting you escape into the night.

Only when the cold, fresh air engulfed your heated body could you finally collect your thoughts. Your body ached, and yet, it tingled with every step, remembering you of the pleasure you had experienced through him. Disgusted and appalled by yourself, you made your way back home, crying the whole time, wondering what went wrong.

It was all Kaeya's fault, right? He went mad and did these unspeakable things to you. He was jealous because you had a boyfriend already and rejected him. None of this was your fault... right? But at the same time, would he make these threats come true? Was there really no other way than to break up with your boyfriend? Could you do nothing but obey his demands if you wanted to keep living your life? Was the love he had for you really love?

These questions kept you up all night.

All while Kaeya sipped on his drink, satisfied with himself, studying the image of you he had in his mind and the cum stains on his mirror. Stains he only planned to add to but never get rid of.

Just like you'd never get rid of him.

[lubdubsworld]

A Tale Untold. ( Jungkook x Oc)

Historical Au! General Jungkook! x Princess Oc!

Warnings : Non con/ Dub con, Manipulation, violence.

Rated 18+

Summary : The King of Elvyra is proud of his empire and of his perfect family. But the truth behind his ascension, is a tale that remains untold.

“The palace is so beautifully maintained your Majesty. Truly, such opulent splendor …..” The envoy from the neighboring Kingdom stood slack jawed in the Grand Hall, staring around at the gleaming trophies, mounted shields and gold embossed portraits that decorated the walls.

The brocade curtains had been left open, tied together with silk braided ropes with jeweled hangings, the light from the late afternoon sun setting the whole place aglow. On ornate tables scattered across the large room, stood little treasures and trinkets that had been taken as bounty from successful military campaigns against smaller, weaker Kingdoms.

All of it a testament to the unchallenged power wielded by General Jeon Jungkook, the King of Elvyra. He was not like the other monarchs. He still commanded his army personally despite wearing the title of King.

Jeon Jungkook, who stood to my left, with his arm wrapped around my waist in a possessive grip that was just shy of painful.

“ You must thank my beautiful queen for that, I’m afraid, Sir Cha. She has been much occupied with setting the Hall and the Palace to rights after my ascension, and her efforts have paid off. Have they not, princess?” Jungkook whispered, turning around to brush soft lips against my ear and I felt physically sick.

The last endearment was a sneer. And insult. A reminder of what I was : a captive.

“Yes, my King.” I said softly, keeping my tone level. I wouldn’t dare act up in front of guests, because Jungkook’s punishments would be cruel and merciless. He would keep my sister away from me, or worse, he would forbid me from spending time with our oldest son.

Jihwan was only seven, but already he was being trained as the heir, spending hours on the training fields with his father and it took endless hours of begging and servicing Jungkook in his bed and out of it, for me to be allowed a scant few hours with the boy.

Jungkook drilled into his head the importance of power, the need to instill fear in his subordinates, raising him to be just as ruthless and cruel as he himself was and I had only those few stolen hours to speak to my son about the values that I had grown up with. My heart ached when I remembered the kind of monarch my own father had been : a kind, gentle man who loved his Kingdom. And my elder brother had been raised with morals , compassion and justice in his veins, only for Jeon Jungkook and his barbaric army to invade our home and destroy it all.

“Your beauty outshines all of this, my Queen.” A man simpered next to me and Jungkook’s eyes narrowed at him. I swallowed. Jungkook didn’t like others looking at what was his.

“The story of your ascension to the throne here, we would love to hear of it.” One of the women said and my breath caught in my lungs, Memories flooded my head, traumatizing and painful. My skin went hot and then icy cold and my husband laughed next to me.

“It was quite simple. I was offered the throne and the lovely daughter of the Kingdom, in return for saving them from ruin, was it not, my dear?”

Liar.

“I.. Yes.”

“Ruin? Was your kingdom is trouble, my Queen?” the woman asked.

~~~~~~

No. We were rich and thriving. Everyone was treated equal here. My parents ruled with a heart of gold and everyone was well fed and joyful. We held festivals every month, celebrated life and never deemed ill will to anyone else. We loved each other. The commonfolk dined with the royals in the courtyards and the King himself drank at the cavern down in the village. The oldest prince, my brother, he played with the boys in the village, taught them how to wield the sword and the bow and arrow and my sister and I… we spent our days in the meadows…. Making daisy chains and stealing kisses from the stable boys.

~~~~~

“ They were in desperate need of firm leadership. My father in law, may he rest in peace….he had a weak heart that gave out soon after our alliance. Her brother followed soon after leaving me no choice but to take over.” Jungkook’s voice held a note of genuine sympathy and I felt sick to my stomach.

~~~~~~~~

The sight of my father, kneeling in front of his throne, shackled and in chains. My mother on her knees, begging for mercy and Jungkook’s men held a dagger to her throat. My brother standing in front of me and my sister, arms spread wide as he stared right at General Jeon, refusing to kneel.

“What you’re doing goes against every law on earth, Jeon. The moment you attack a foe when he has his back turned you reveal yourself to be a coward.”

And Jungkook had laughed, loud and uncaring.

“And if I stab him through the heart when he’s right in front of me? What does that reveal?”

It had happened in a flash, the quick movement of his wrist, the flash of silver as he drew his weapon and then the sickening squelch of the blade as it sunk through skin and flesh. The hot wetness of my brother’s blood as it splattered all over my face, the dawning horror as I realized that he had run the sword right through my brother’s heart and the endless screams from my mother and sister as my brother died right in front of our eyes.

I had stood there, too stunned to scream watching the boy who had taught me how to walk bleeding to death in front of me and when I had looked up, Jungkook’s eyes had been trained on mine.

“Bring her here” He had said firmly, pointing right at me and my entire world had exploded in agony. I screamed in protest as his men grabbed me by the arm, yanking me forward with such force that my legs gave out, dragging over the rough stone floors as they pulled me to stand in front of the man who had invaded our home without remorse.

“General Jeon….” My father’s voice came from behind me , soft and yet firm. I could hear the grief and pain in the syllables, and I wondered how much my father must be aching at this moment. He had loved my brother with his whole heart “ We’ve offered to surrender, offered you the throne. Please. Spare my daughters and my wife. There is a summer palace at the edge of the kingdom . We will retire there and live our lives out in exile. Please… don’t hurt them. They are too young to understand what you’re doing.”

One of the men standing next to Jungkook stepped forward and I glanced at him, my eyes widening when I saw his face. He looked like an angel, pristine and flawless. And his gaze was trained on my sister . I felt my heart began to pound as he began making his way over to her.

“No!! No… Aline!!” I screamed and Jungkook’s hand shot out gripping my jaw and forcing my mouth closed.

“Hold your tongue, woman.” He whispered. “ My patience wears thin.” He glanced at my father and the smirk on his face grew bigger. “ I think that would be such a pity, your highness. A face like your daughter’s … it doesn’t belong in exile. It belongs on the throne…. does it not, princess?”

“Your daughters are beautiful , majesty. They deserve to have handsome, brave husbands, do they not?” the man who had gone to my sister called out, his fingers curled around her arm as he dragged her to the front and I felt my heart crack in two as Aline burst into loud, miserable tears.

“Lulu…. Lulu make him stop… tell him to let me go…” She whimpered , punching fruitless against the soldier’s armored chest and the man seemed amused as he stared at her.

“Please…she’s too young…” I begged, staring at Jungkook beseechingly. “ She’s only sixteen summers old… Please don’t hurt her…”

“Sixteen isn’t a child. She is old enough to bear one herself.” The man holding her snapped angrily and I stiffened.

“A fair enough point, Taehyung- ah…” Jungkook laughed “ but we’re not barbarians. Let her go for now.”

“What?” Taehyung growled. “ No. I want her. Jungkook I’ve never taken anything from any of the countless kingdoms we’ve ravaged but I want her.” He shook my sister like she was ragged doll and Aline looked catatonic with terror.

“Please , let her go, she’s shaking…” I begged , trying to yank my arms away from the men holding me and Jungkook growled.

“Shut your mouth or your father dies.” He snarled and I was too stricken, too distracted to register what he had said, too focused on my baby sister to listen.

“please Jungkook, don’t do this… She’s young and she’s scared….”

Jungkook’s snarl of rage made me go white as a sheet and I watched in horror as he pointed straight at my father with the sword that still dripped with my brother’s life blood.

“ Get rid of the old fool.” He roared and my heart ripped straight in two.

“NO!!!!!!!”

My loud cry did nothing to deter the men holding my father who showed not a moment of hesitation, raising their sword.

“Remember who you are, Iseul!!” My father said loudly and I turned my face away, closing my eyes as the sickening sound of the blade coming down rang through the place, my mother’s howl of agony following shortly after. I stared at the floor, going limp in the arms of the men holding me up, my body numb and throbbing in disbelief.

“Now look what you made me do.” Jungkook snapped. “ I was going to let the poor fool live, somewhere in the dungeons with your mother but your complete and utter disregard for my authority….it fills me with rage, Iseul.” He snapped.

I couldn’t breathe, my lungs constricting. They were dead. My father and brother, the only two men who had protected me and my sister all our lives, they were both dead. This man. No, not a man. A monster.

This cruel, heartless monster had butchered them in front of my eyes.

“Look at me.” He said suddenly, stepping in front of me.

I didn’t respond, keeping my gaze trained on the floor and his hand shot out, gripping my chin and forcing me to look up at him.

“Look at me.” He said firmly. “ Come morning we will be wed. I will be your husband. You will belong to me. You will give me strong heirs and all of your wants and needs will be mine to fulfill. Do you understand what that means, Iseul?” He demanded.

I choked on a sob.

“Jungkook we need to get rid of the bodies. Give them a proper funeral at least.” Another man stepped out of the shadows and Jungkook sighed.

“Yes, hyung. Taehyung-ah… Why don’t we take our new brides to our chambers?” He smirked, “ I could do with some stress relief now that the hard part of this whole thing is done.”

“Took you long enough. Come here my pretty doll…” Taehyung grinned, dragging Aline away and I whimpered, stumbling to try and follow but Jungkook’s arm came around my waist squeezing tight.

“That’s her husband now. Think of it that way and it will hurt less. Your sister is married to a man who will love her , protect her and cherish her. He will give her nice strong children. What more do you want for her?”

I exhaled shakily, turning to him.

“ What do you know of love, you monster?” I whispered.

Jungkook hummed.

“Then how about this, my princess. Let me teach you what I know of pleasure, and you can teach me all about love.”

It was a lesson that I never forgot. A painful, humiliating excruciating lesson in his bed where he stripped of my clothes, my dignity and the last shreds of my honour.

I stared at the ceiling as he lay over me, the large expanse of his chest pinning me to the mattress, the slick drag of his member inside me making me ache and throb, his lips, pressing kisses against my throat.

“you smell like a flower garden, my angel. So pure and precious. Made for me, I see….” He whispered, hips pushing up against mine as he ducked into me with long, rough strokes.

I stayed still staring into nothing and he pinched my nipple, twisting the buds till I whimpered.

“Please…”

“please what?” He whispered, resting his forehead against mine, forcing me to stare into doe eyes that seemed to glitter like the clear sky on a spring night. What a beautiful monster.

“Please stop…” I whispered.

“Stop…” He laughed cruelly. He pulled out fully before slamming back in with more force. Pain lanced up my body. “ Now why would I do that?”

“Hurts…” I whispered, exhausted. My hands lay limp and tired next to my head, throbbing from trying to punch him countless times to no avail.

“Poor little love. It hurts because you aren’t used to it. I will do this often and well and soon, your body will know that I belong inside you. And then you will beg me to make it last longer… not stop.”

I closed my eyes, staring into my mind. Remember who you are? I didn’t even know who I was anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Of course, it was a pity that the royal blood came to an end that way. But some things can’t be helped.” Jungkook said firmly, arm still wrapped around me in a vice like grip. I glanced at the sun as it dipped lower in the sky. Was Jihwan done with the training? I wanted to see him. To hold him and remind myself that there was still some goodness in the world.

“But under your rule, the kingdom has thrived, your Majesty. So it was all for the best.” The man said brightly and Jungkook chuckled.

“That is true. Would you like to view the training grounds now?”

“If, I maybe excused?” I asked softly and Jungkook frowned.

“Is something the matter?”

“I feel a little unwell…” I said softly and the look on his face darkened.

But he didn’t protest, merely dipping his head lightly.

“Jihwan is in the west wing. He’s working on his scribing skills. You may visit him for a while and after our guests retire, I will fetch you from him.”

I bowed respectfully.

“Thank you, my King.”

~~~~~~~~

“Mother!!!” Jihwan’s loud cry rang through the hallway as he came barreling into my arms. I caught him too my chest, eyes stinging because soon he would be too old for me to hug and kiss and caress.

“My darling child, I’ve missed you..” I whispered.

“You saw me last night at dinner…” He laughed.

“And that is entirely too long ago.” I brushed the hair of his face. “ did you eat your meals? Have you been keeping yourself safe?”

He nodded eagerly.

“Auntie Aline and Uncle Tae bought me a new dagger.”

I felt my heart drop. A dagger?

“Darling, please be safe…Is it too sharp?”

“A little. But Uncle Tae told me I’m old enough to learn how to use it to fight.”

I closed my eyes, willing my self not to scream in frustration.

“Alright. But now unless your father is there to watch you, alright?” I whispered.

He nodded.

“Yes, mother. Mother…. “ He hesitated. “ Do Auntie Aline and Uncle Tae love each other?”

I blinked.

“What?”

“She looks so sad, sometimes.”

I bit my lips, willing myself to smile. Unlike me , my sister didn’t know how to put on an act. She had always been a delicate child and the trauma of our parents death and Taehyung’s cruelty had taken a toll on her. She was deeply depressed but her husband didn’t care. All Taehyung cared for was her body and the two sturdy sons she had borne him, a third child on the way.

“Of course darling. You do know, Han and Jiwoo are going to have a younger sibling soon? She must be tired from growing the baby inside her.”

“Will I have a sibling too?” He asked innocently and I opened my mouth to refute the idea when a shadow fell over us.

“Would you like one, my brave little tiger?” Jungkook’s voice rang over us and I stiffened.

“No.” I said swiftly, “ He enjoys having all of mama’s attention, don’t you darling?”

Jihwan wrinkled his nose.

“I don’t know. A little sister would feel nice.”

Jungkook hummed.

“I like the idea of that. If you give me a daughter then we can have her betrothed to Han at birth.” He said casually and I felt sick.

“Jihwan, you must go back to your lessons, now. Your mother and I will see you at dinner.” Jungkook said softly and I flinched when Jungkook gripped my shoulders tugging me away from my boy. Everyday Jihwan looked less and less upset at leaving me and I wondered if one day he would begin welcoming my departure.

Jungkook didn’t say a word, turning me around and leading me gently to the opposite wing, where our bedchamber lay. It was a path I traipsed a million times in the seven years we’d been married and yet, it felt just as unbearable as it had back then.

The sight of the King made the maids and footmen scramble away in a panic and I swallowed as he opened the large engraved doors , prompting me to go in. I stepped in only to have him press against my back at once. I stayed still, letting him untie the strings of my train, before moving to undo the button of my gown. He stopped halfway through.

“This is tedious. Strip for me and get on the bed.”

I didn’t move. What did he want? Surely he wouldn’t be thinking of humoring my son? The idea of bearing more children for him was abhorrent to me. I wanted to cry. But I did as he said, carefully stripping out of all my clothes ,m placing them in a neat pile, on the table nearby before moving to climb into the bed for him. Jungkook moved into sit against the headboard, before grabbing my wrists and pulling me to his lap.

“Look at me.” Jungkook said, once I sat straddling his thick thighs, the curve of my bottom resting against the hardness of his arousal. “ I was right, wasn’t I?”

I stared at him as his hands came up to pinch both of my nipples at the same time, playing with the hardened numbs till I began squirming on his hard length.

“ You were made for this weren’t you? To be my queen and my wife? Such a perfect mother too. I was right to choose you, wasn’t I?”

I stared at him, the handsome face that I wanted to hate., But it was hard. He had given me Jihwan. He had let me keep my sister at arm’s length. He had let my mother live out her years in the palace, although the grief had killed her two years ago. It could be worse, I told myself, lifting and moving to line the tip of his member against my body and sinking down on him. It could be so much worse.

“Fuck…yes. Just like that angel….” He gripped my waist, bucking up into me and my body caved, now used to the intrusion.

“Yes…” I choked out, when his thumb moved to press against my center, rubbing circles.

“I was right….I’m always right . Your body knows I belong inside you.”

He pulled me close, arms a vice around my body and I choked as he fucked into me .

“Say it… “ He demanded and I closed my eyes, sorrow and helplessness welling into tears and brimming over my eyes onto his shoulders and down his back. But Just as I was used to him inside me, Jungkook was used to the tears soaking him whenever we did this.

“Don’t stop.” I breathed.

The King after all was always right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note : Would you guys like another part? But please tell me what you thought !!