#which foul legacy loves since then you can stay with him

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

okay hear me out- SAGAU but with sea monster Foul Legacy

sea monster Foul Legacy who smells the golden blood in the water during one of his hunts, hastily swimming to catch the body floating in the sea. he's never seen you in person before, but oh- you're so familiar.

he brings you to shore, away from any cities- oh no, you're bleeding- and carefully pats your wounds with seagrass, fretting as he waits for you to wake up. what should he do- you're obviously the Creator, there's no doubt about it- why in the world are you so hurt?! why were you sinking into the sea, why hasn't Teyvat been celebrating your return, why-

Legacy chitters in surprise when you shift, letting out a few coughs and cracking open your eyes. with a strangled scream you shoot upright and try to scoot away from him, only for Legacy to lower his head and whine sadly. of course you wouldn't want to be around him, he's a monster. but your movements eventually slow, breathing heavily as the cuts sting and sear, and after a moment he tentatively dabs more seagrass against the injuries, trying to show that he means no harm. when he's sure that you won't struggle and accidentally hurt yourself, Legacy gently nudges you into a sitting position with a gentle trill.

he has to hold himself back from just staring in awe. his god, the Creator, is right here in front of him! but he can see the way you shiver, the gleaming blood staining your skin- you need care, not worship. so Foul Legacy shifts closer, gently settling his scaled tail over your legs and pressing his cheek against yours, feeling how you shudder in his arms like you've been running and screaming for years. you stiffen at first but quickly melt into his tender embrace, sniffing as relieved, exhausted tears begin to drip down your cheeks.

on that night, a god finally found an ocean of safety to call their own.

[chocoenvy]

Whims of the Gods (let's play a game of dissection Part 3)

Part one, Part Two, Part Four(Final)

(inspired by this ask that @/is-very-sad got)

after part four and all of this angst i am writing some fluff, i need it. specifically foul legacy fluff because i acidentally made myself a childe simp writing this

Warnings!!!: trauma. cult behaviors. Mentions of what happened in part one but not detailed. imposter/rejected god au

2,575 words

"I understand your grace, but you'll be safer there." The abyss mage comfortingly patted you on the back.

You whined, while holding the rifthound whelp that had found you your first night on Tsurumi Island.

The abyss mage chuckled, "No, your grace, you cannot take Milo with you."

You pouted and gave Milo a long squeeze and a loving kiss on the nose. The whelp barked, happy that you would show him so much love. But as you set him down and stood up to leave, he whined. Urging you to stay with him.

"Milo," The abyss mage softly said, "Their excellency has to go somehwere safe, where they'll never get hurt. You have to stay here with your father. Okay? Grow big and strong for their grace okay?"

You sniffed as you walked away from Milo, Tartaglia at your side. You sent him and the rest of your loyal friends a heart, lots of headpats and hugs until you were far away from the camp. Tartaglia at your side, leading you to the boat that would take you to Sneznaya.

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

The boat ride was long, and despite the weeks you had spent with the hilichurls, you were far from a full recovery. Both mentally and physically. Childe, though, took care of all of your needs.

He was always beside you and was patient with you the first few days of the trip, which was a harsh learning curve. "Don't worry about the Fatui, I've already informed them of who you are, they won't hurt you."

Despite his words, you still shook at all of the people on the ship. If there were too many near you, you'd shut down. Your mouth would clam shut and turn dry. Your limbs would lock up and you wouldn't be able to move.

After that had happened, Childe had picked you up, "Here, I'll just carry you around everywhere!" He giggled, "It'll be easier on your body."

He definetely upheld that promise, you hardly used your legs the entire boat ride.

"Do you need anything your grace?" He'd ask constanlty, "Water?" He made a motion with his hand, "Food?" He made a different motion, "Does anything hurt?" Another motion.

Eventually you got used to the hand motions. You'd grab his sleeve, wave your hands, or make grabby hands and then make the hand motion for your desired item. Or if anything hurt - or at least hurt more than it usually did - you'd make a pained expression and point at it. Luckily, the days on the ship were easy, especially since you only interracted with Childe.

Honestly, you were glad nobody but him talked to you. The most they did was bow lowly and mutter "Your grace." If they said more words than that or got too close, your entire body shook. And since Childe was usually holding you or right by your side, he'd notice and not-so-subtly tell the person to back off.

Humans are cruel. All of the abyss mages, hilichurls, and rifthounds agreed, They are our enemies. They do nothing but hurt us. You can never trust humans.

"C." Childe made the letter with his hand and you copied it, "H." Another letter that you copied, "I. L. D. E." He smiled, "We're almost to Snezhnaya. If you ever need me and don't know where I am, just go up to someone and do that. They'll know what you mean."

You nodded, your stomach twisting in uncomfortable knots. The harbor meant more people. More people meant more danger. Would they think you were an imposter? Would it be just like Liyue Harbor? What would they take next? Your arms, legs, ears, eyes-?

Childe seemed to have read your thoughts as he grabbed your hands and gently smiled but behind his eyes, dangerous thoughts played out. "Please your grace, don't worry. I've already sent letters to the Tsaritsa explaining the situation. All of Sneznhaya knows that you're our god." His smile turned sharper and wicked, "And if anyone dares to insult you or harm you in any way, me and the rest of the Fatui won't hesitate to make their end more painful than anything they could've dreamed of."

Childe's malicious demeanor dissipated as he felt your hands shake. He pouted, "Aw, your grace, I'm sorry. Don't worry, that look will never be directed towards you." He smiled and went to pat your head. His hand stopped as you shrinked away, so he instead booped your nose. Your face lit up with a smile and his heart melted. Truly, you deserved the world and your smiles were all the sweeter knowing that he was the first human to have witnessed them.

There was a knock on the door, "Tartaglia, Your grace, we're here."

"Okay, we'll be up in a minute." Childe called back. He looked to you as the footsteps faded away from the door, "Are you ready your grace?" He grinned giddily, holding his hand out to you.

You took a deep breath but nodded and grabbed his hand. He tugged you into his arms and held you bridal style. He twirled with you in his arms, giggling like a child.

You gasped in shock as he spun you around but you grinned brightly, giggling with him.

"Here," He opened up the closet in your room below deck, and set you down carefully, holding your hand to make sure you wouldn't fall, "We'll put you in some warm clothes and then we'll leave. Everything on the ship will be taken out by someone else so you don't worry about anything okay?" He smiled warmly while shifting through the absurd amount of clothes you had.

Eventually he found a thick and soft coat for you to wear, he stacked three layers on you before deciding it was enough. He picked you up again, a proud smile on his face as he left the room and went to the deck of the ship.

"Here we are," He muttered to you, looking out over the boat at Snezhnaya, "Home sweet home." His smile was so soft for the 11th fatui harbinger.

You grinned and looked out at the massive crowd of people. Your smile died and your eyes furrowed in worry.

Childe hopped a bit with you in his arms, causing you to jump around, "Come on your grace! They're not that scary! Besides, we won't be bothered by the crowds." He grinned, walking down the wooden plank off of the ship.

You tilted your head at him, confused, but then you noticed how quiet it was. Especially for a harbor full of people. You looked away from Childe back to the crowds, only to gasp quietly when you saw everybody in the crowd kneeling before you.

You froze in Childe's arms, your arms around his neck pulling yourself closer to him.

"Your grace," Childe's voice boomed as he grinned down at you, "Welcome home!"

The crowds cheered and you flinched tongue tongue tongue tongue, they're gonna take my tongue, do they have my tongue? Is that why they're cheering? Cause they've already stolen something from me-?

"Your grace?" Childe immediately noticed how you shrunk into his chest at the loud noise, "Are you okay?"

You shook your head, burying it further into his fluffy coat.

Childe whimpered, "I'm sorry your grace. Here, we'll hurry to the palace."

He rushed off of the boat and right in front of the plank used to get off was a group of five harbingers. There was one you vaguely recognized and one you definetely knew. You'd know that big hat short-stack with mommy issues anywhere. The other three, though, you didn't know.

"Let's hurry," Childe said, "Their excellency wants to get to the palace as quickly as possible."

They listened to him, flanking you and Childe so that nobody from the crowd got anywhere near you.

The trip to the palace was easy, especially with six of the fatui harbingers leading you there, one of them holding you.

Childe entered the throne room with you in his arms, the other harbingers already in the room and the ones that came to escort you took their places beside the Tsaritsa. Carefully, Childe set you down on your own two feet, holding your hand as you adjusted to the pain that shot up your legs.

The Tsaritsa stood up and so did the rest of the harbingers. She approached you, slowly, and you shivered. You gribbed Childe's hand tightly and looked at him with wild panic. You stumbled back away from her, your feet not ready for the wild movement and stumbling. Childe caught you before you fell and sent you a comforting smile.

It'll be okay. He signed with his hands. You frowned but didn't move much when the Tsaritsa was before you. Still, you were trembling from head to toe.

That is until she got on her knees, bowing for you, "Your grace, welcome to Sneznhaya. I've heard of what the archons and the people of Teyvat have done to you. I assure you, your grace, that nothing like that will happen here. You will be safe and no harm will befall you. Not as long as Sneznhnaya stands." She held out her hand, silently asking for yours.

You sent a quick glanced to Childe and cautiously held out your pinky for her hand.

She smiled softly, so soft it was hard to see but it was there. It was rare sight for the rest of Teyvat but you were sure it'd be easy to become addicted to the warmth in such a small gesture. She gently held your pinky up to her lips and kissed it.

"Come and eat, I'm sure it's been a long journey for you." The Tsaritsa said, standing up, "You can finally rest. If you require anything please just say the word and it shall be provided."

You sat at a table with the rest of the harbingers and the Tsaritsa, a large and lavish meal sitting in front of you. The smell was mouthwatering but you knew it'd taste the exact same as everything else you'd eaten.

You pressed your mouth into a thin line nervously. You were sat right beside the Tsaritsa and Childe near the head of the table. There was no doubt everyone's eyes were on you.

Go for the easy to swallow foods and ones with good texture. Just say you're a picky eater or something. Shit, I eat so weirdly.

Your hands were shaking and your mouth refused to open. Even when you forced yourself to scoop up some mush that looked yummy and easy to swallow, your jaw remained clamped shut.

You slammed down the utensil, frustrated.

Childe smiled, "Not hungry your grace?"

You shook your head, a strained smile tugged at your lips.

"You're not that talkative are you?" One of the harbingers said, "Are you nervous?"

You held up an X to your mouth at the same time Childe said, "They're mute." A deadly undertone to his words.

"Really?" The Tsaritsa looked at you, "I didn't know... none of Teyvat ever said anything about you being mute."

You merely shrugged. Not like you could say anything about it without a piece of paper or better knowledge of sign language.

Childe hummed, "I hadn't known either until I met them..."

A servant of the palace, dressed unbelievably well, starting pouring drinks, starting with you. They poured wine into each of your glasses, a frown tugged on your lips.

You tugged on Childe's sleeve and made the water sign with your hand. He smiled warmly and nodded, "They want water." He called to the servant.

The servant nodded, "Of course."

The Tsaritsa hummed, "We have other drinks your grace, you can have whatever you want, i implore you to try any of Sneznhaya's drinks."

You briefly recalled an alcoholic drink Childe had mentioned before. You weren't sure how you'd handle alcohol with... without your tongue, but until it kicked in you're sure you'd be able to crush him in an alcoholic competition.

Still, you shook your head. Water. OK. You signed with a smile.

"If you insist your grace." The Tsaritsa said, barely emotion slipping into her voice.

It was later, during breakfast the next day, when they started to worry. No matter what, you couldn't force yourself to eat in front of people. Your jaw clamped up and even when you drank water, your teeth chomped down on the glass. Hiding the inside of your mouth so nobody could see or reach it again.

"Your grace, I love you and would never dream of hurting you, but if I have to I will shove food down your throat." Childe gently threatened during breakfast.

You whined and slumped in your seat. You had already tried to eat so many times but you couldn't! You physically couldn't force yourself to!

The Tsaritsa frowned, "Your grace, please eat. I don't know why you won't but your body is hurt and needs the food to heal. Not to mention you look underweight."

You frowned, frustrated tears threatening to exit your eyes. You made a writing motion with your hand.

Childe tilted his head, "You want a pen and paper your grace?"

You nodded. The Tsaritsa snapped and one of the servants on standby scurried off, returning barely a few minutes later with the items.

You scribbled sloppily on the paper, I can't force myself to eat.

Your hands shook uncontrolably as you couldn't help but think of what led you to this. The memories played on repeat in your mind, even while you slept. Every moment, awake or not, on replay in your mind, was how slowly your tongue was cut off. All of the blood. How it slipped down your throat and out of your mouth choking you until you almost vomitted.

"Your grace." Childe held your body close to his, lifting you from your seat to put you on his lap.

Stars were falling from your eyes, crashing down to your lap in meteor showers. You hiccuped uncontrolablly, your hands slapped over your mouth. Heaving your breaths as your ribs remembered how helpless they were on that day. How they couldn't support themselves and were crashing in like an abandoned house.

The Tsaritsa stood up to stand beside you and Childe, placing her hand on your shoulder, "Your grace?" You voice ever so slightly quivered.

You looked up at Childe, even without your voice your eyes were screaming for help. Trembling, you hands lowered from your mouth. Your jaw unclenched but was still stiff as it lowered. You made the motion to stick your tongue out.

Childe and the Tsaritsa were confused at first but your eyes were so haunted there was obviously something wrong-

The entire Sneznhaya felt the temperature drop to a temperature that shouldn't have been possible. The Tsaritsa had to conciously tell herself to let go of you or she would've frozen and crushed you. Childe's blood boiled even though the floor around the Tsaritsa was now complete ice. Firey hot electro charged rage coursed through the blood pumping in his veins.

They'd never be able to forget the haunted look in your eyes. How your tongue was missing. The cut left behind gave away how it had been cut painfully and slowly with a dull blade.

The Tsaritsa clenched her jaw, her anger was ready to freeze the entirety of Teyvat, "Did those archons do this?"

Taglist <3 (if you want to be added just ask :)) @irethepotato @messler31 @under-a-starry-night @give-xiao-almond-tofu @azempyrea @chaotictrain @5-stirling-heartstrings @birozu @thatpotatobitch @sharieb @soup-flavoredsoup @tsukimiru @fearthehime @sweetstrawberrybabe @kitsamii @julietdelamare @kevinkeqing

(if i did the taglist wrong pls tell me, I don't wanna annoy anyone :))

[monocaelia]

tending to their wounds

they cannot evade death. but with you around, they're invincible.

feat. albedo, childe, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, xiao

genre : headcanons, fluff, angst [for xiao and kazuha], hurt/comfort

warnings : blood and injury. death mention. minor cursing.

❀ albedo

it's to no one's surprise that albedo isn't human, meaning he doesn't have the same bodily functions as the others in mondstadt do. his body cannot bleed nor can he feel much pain. that's not to say he can't at all, but a simple prick from a piece of shattered flask can't really do the young alchemist any harm.

flasks breaking or nicking himself while conducting his own research never really phased the alchemist. despite the warnings his assistant gave him about laboratory safety, he didn't need to heed them if the injuries didn't apply to him, did he?

it's safe to say that the chief alchemist is... perplexed to say the least at seeing you worry over him. he wasn't expecting you to come rushing through his laboratory door when you heard the sound of falling glass and nearly climbed over all of his equipment to come to his aid.

"really, you shouldn't have to worry," his gentle voice reassures you, but his attempts to calm you down are futile. instead, albedo is met with your furrowed brows in concentration and your fingers brushing against his as you inspect his invisible wounds.

"yeah well, maybe if you were more careful in your laboratory i wouldn't be here worrying over you, would i?" albedo sighs at your response and decides to let you do as you please to his 'injuries.'

the alchemist's teal eyes follow your movements as you reach for the bandages in the first aid kit and begin to wrap them around his finger tips. he doesn't miss the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips as you concentrate on the task in front of you.

despite not needing to worry much about him, albedo finds it endearing that you care so much about his wellbeing. how much you care about him, how often you check up on him and make sure he never overworks himself. you truly are a caring individual, a ray of warm sunshine in his life.

you meet albedo's gaze when your name leaves his lips, eyes filled with curiosity at what he could possibly want.

"thank you for tending to me." he thanks you with tender smile on his face, his spare hand gently ruffling your hair. the flustered expression on your face is hard to miss, especially when you quickly duck your head down and away from the alchemist.

you stutter out that 'this is nothing!' and continue on wrapping albedo's faux injuries. though, the alchemist finds the way your hands shake as they brush against his skin adorable.

❀ childe

childe is a war criminal, in case you missed it. it's not uncommon to find the young man fighting an entire hoard of enemies by himself. the thrill of battle never seems to be enough for him, as he constantly seeks anything that could satiate his need for exhilaration.

finding scars or fresh injuries on the harbinger is the usual for you, regardless of whether or not they're shallow wounds or deep gashes that gush blood and stain your poor floor. not that childe minds anyways, he sees his battle scars as medals of the many fights he has won and wears them with pride.

but, despite being one of the fatui harbingers and an absolute beast on the battlefield, that doesn't stop you from worrying about his wellbeing.

your brows furrow in concern at the sight of childe in front of you; body worn from using his foul legacy form one too many times in succession and injuries sustained from his earlier fight. he shouldn't have protected you, really you could have protected yourself. and yet...

"you're going to ruin yourself if you keep going into your other form all the time, you know." childe laughs weakly at your lecturing; that's all he can do right now anyways. you catch your lip in between your teeth as you rub a cooling ointment on the harbinger's body. "this isn't funny. you can't just die. then no one would be the eleventh harbinger and you-"

"i would leave you alone?" childe smiles when you send him a glare. his rough hand finds yours, squeezing it lightly in reassurance. there's not a chance in the world that he would succumb to death just yet. childe is still young, and there are many others that he hasn't had the pleasure of fighting against.

and he sure as abyss can’t pass away without saying how he truly feels about you.

you grumble to the snezhnayan that you could've handled it all alone, that you didn't need him to go all berserk on the ruin guards that had surrounded you earlier. instead, childe laughs and places a weak hand on your forearm. "i know, but that was the perfect time to show you just how well i can fight. maybe then, you'll finally accept my feelings."

a white lie, really. even though childe knows that you could've handled it yourself, he acted on instinct back then. the thought of you being harmed in any way sends a chill down the harbinger's spine. he wouldn't forgive himself if he reacted a second too late and you ended up hurt as a consequence.

what's the point of harboring the power of the abyss if he couldn't protect the ones he loved.

you roll your eyes at his answer, choosing to quietly resume cleaning up childe's wounds in hopes that he doesn't say anything more embarrassing. as your fingers brush against the snezhnayan's freckled skin, you don't miss the way he leans towards your touch and the happy hum rumbling from his chest.

❀ diluc

the darknight hero is not one to lose his battles, let alone allow any of his enemies lay a finger on him. trained by the knights and his own father, diluc's fighting style is difficult to intercept and finding a weak spot in his defense is futile. even if his sword is too slow, his fists will be glad to meet those that oppose him.

that isn't to say he doesn't get hurt every now and then. you've caught him with bandages wrapped around his hand, blood soaked gauze around his torso. as long as the job was done, diluc didn't mind the wounds he received in battle.

he isn't used to others tending to his wounds, as nobody really knows he's the darknight hero and protects mondstadt in the middle of the night. so when you catch him in the act of cleaning his wounds and offer to help, he kind of freezes up.

diluc wants to decline your offer, sure that he could finish this up by himself. and besides, he doesn't want to burden you with his consequences so late at night. but he knows you would keep bugging him and complain later that he didn't "love you" or whatever dramatic act you'd be committing in the near future.

it's hard to look at you when you're so close to the red haired vigilante. granted, diluc has always been pretty close with you, seeing as the two of you grew up together and shared most of your memories with one another (and kaeya).

but being physically close to you... is another story. your fingers lightly touching his skin, your face so close to his as you inspect other wounds on his body, your hands roaming the expanse of his chest to remove his shirt in case it hid any other injuries you could have missed.

diluc's hands twitch when you inch even closer to him. if he wanted to, it would take one swift movement to have his lips on yours. one swift movement to hold you in his arms and feel the way your skin melts into his.

but the vigilante has self-control and would rather die than make you uncomfortable.

diluc releases a shaky breath when you finally move away from his body, though it's only a brief moment of respite since you immediately move back into your previous position after grabbing more bandages. absolutely perfect for the poor vigilante.

he clears his throat when your hands slide down his arms to reassure the pressure is enough to keep his wounds from reopening and bleeding out. it is then that you realize what you've been doing to the poor red haired man and how close you've been to him and his body.

"oh? what could you possibly be thinking about, mr. ragnvindr?" you tease, raising an eyebrow and sending diluc a playful smile. you fail to suppress your laughter when he scrunches up his face and turns his face away from you, his ears burning a wonderful shade of bright pink.

"i think it's time for you to leave." shocked, you try and apologize and get him to let you stay a little bit more. the night is still young, and he still has more injuries to be looked at! but diluc pays you no mind.

not like he'd have the heart to actually kick you out of his room anyways.

❀ kaeya

the captain of the calvary isn't one to fight, always looking for people to do his dirty work so he doesn't have to. why bother exerting more energy than you already have when you can make others do it for you? it's more fun that way, anyways.

that doesn't mean kaeya is incapable of fighting. if needed to, the blue haired captain would gladly point his sword at the enemy to keep them at bay or spar a fellow knight. scratches and shallow scrapes are what you mostly see from him.

you aren't expecting to be called into the knights of favonius headquarters and be greeted by the calvary captain battered up and bruised in the infirmary.

"you're squeezing me too hard," kaeya comments nonchalantly, as if he isn't bleeding to death on the bed right now. "you'll cut off circulation in my arm if you keep doing that." you shoot him a glare, but the blue haired captain only laughs at you. you tighten the bandage on his arm.

you refuse to get tangled up in anymore of kaeya's antics. it's all his fault you've aged ten years because of him and his stupid actions and refusing to ask for help despite the mission being bigger than anyone could handle. alone at least. it's not like you don't trust him, but a little extra help isn't bad to have.

your frown deepens when your eyes flit up to stare at the blood soaked shirt covering kaeya's chest. you order him to take it off so you can inspect his injury, which was a mistake on your part.

"oh? shouldn't you ask me on a date first before being this forward?" kaeya's laughter rings around the infirmary seeing your deadpan expression at his joke. maybe you should just leave, just leave this stupid man to bleed to death on this infirmary bed. maybe then you would finally be at peace.

"well. maybe i would have asked you on a date if you weren't so stupid to take this dumb mission alone. you could have died, asshole." kaeya only hums in response, which pisses you off even more. it's like he didn't have a care in the world.

in the midst of your grumblings and cleaning of kaeya's wounds, you miss the tender look he gives you; warm and gentle. the captain finds it nice to have someone care for someone like him after so long.

it wasn’t his fault he wanted to do this alone. well, it was, but it’s hard for kaeya to rely on others and be vulnerable to those around him despite how long he’s known them. his walls are built high, refusing to let anybody in in case he accidentally hurts them in the future.

he wonders if you'd miss him if he disappeared one day, but the way your brows furrow in concern at seeing how bad the gash in his chest confirms his answer.

kaeya’s endearing, warm smile is replaced with the usual smug smirk when you look up to meet his gaze. one day, he hopes he’ll be able to let his walls down around you.

"you know, you're really cute when you worry over me. maybe i should get injured more often." the look of shock at kaeya's comment is evident on your flustered face and it takes everything in him to not laugh and open up his wounds again.

❀ kazuha

kazuha isn't one to easily get injured, well at least seriously injured. he was raised by a prestigious family, trained in the arts of the kaedehara clan. with the help of his prior knowledge of fighting and his keen senses, it's hard to one-up the young man to the point of injury.

that isn't to say he has never sustained any injuries. there have been one too many times that the inazuman traveller has shown up at your door with a couple of scrapes and an apologetic smile on his face.

so, it's a surprise when you find kazuha at your doorstep severely injured and clutching something in his burned hand.

it's quiet between the two of you as your eyes scan kazuha's body for any more injuries and your hands quickly move to tend to his right hand. the skin is burnt, bleeding, and his fingers shake from the injuries it sustained.

you whisper an apology to the inazuman when you gently clean the wounded skin with a warm cloth. he doesn't flinch, dazed eyes still staring off in front of you. it makes you wonder what kazuha went through to be injured this badly. though, seeing as the only serious injury was his right hand, you assumed it wasn't from a fight.

"kazuha... what happened to you?" your words are gentle, afraid your voice would scare the inazuman traveller in front of you. kazuha doesn't respond and instead tightens the grip he has on your hand that's bandaging him. his hand is shaking, and you don't realize he's crying until you feel the wet teardrops on your skin.

ruby eyes glazed with tears meet your own when your eyes flick up to confirm that he was indeed crying.

"tomo..." the crack in his voice shatters your heart and you find yourself pulling kazuha into your arms. his own circle around you and his hands grip onto the back of your shirt as he buries his face into your shoulder.

kazuha's body shakes as he sobs at the loss of his friend. he must have held it in until he got to the safety of your home. you were always his safe haven; coming over so you could tend his light wounds and provide a roof over his head if he was passing by your village.

and yet all you can do now is hold him until the storm inside his heart passes by.

❀ xiao

being in pain or having many injuries litter the expanse of his skin isn't unusual for xiao. he's an adeptus whose sole purpose is to serve rex lapis and protect the citizens of liyue, even if it meant throwing his life away.

even then, sustaining larger, more painful wounds didn't make the adeptus bat an eye. despite how horrible it sounds, xiao is used to it all and takes each hit and laceration that comes his way without blinking an eye.

when karmic debt constantly takes a toll against your health and death is the only solution to reaching true peace, it's hard to care about the state of your own wellbeing.

so imagine xiao's surprise when he shows up at the wangshu inn battered and bruised from dealing with a hoard of monsters and seeing you standing in the yaksha's usual spot, waiting for him with a frown etched into your face.

nimble fingers work deftly against xiao's body, quickly cleaning up the lacerations on the adeptus' chest and the scrapes that cover his arms. xiao releases a hiss from the sting of the medicine and you apologize under your breath.

"i knew you would end up like this." your words come out harsher than you intend to. the adeptus doesn't respond. as long as he was the only casualty to come out of this, as long as the innocent lives of liyuens were protected, as long as you were safe behind the walls of the wangshuu inn, it didn't matter how badly his body was injured.

"i just... i just wished you weren't so careless, xiao." the way your voice breaks doesn't go unheard by the yaksha. his eyes snap forward, but your head is tilted down as your shaky fingers worked their way around xiao's torso. "you're always fighting as if no one cared if you died or disappeared one day."

xiao doesn't get it. he doesn't understand why you care about him so much. a being fated to suffer until his dying days are over, one cursed with karmic debt and forced to carry the burdens of the innocent lives he took in his past.

no one should care about him. a monster with blood on his hands.

but here you are, shedding tears for an adeptus who didn't deserve it. the sole yaksha who is fated to succumb to the sweet embrace of death at any given moment.

and yet, despite knowing he doesn't deserve your gentle touch brushing over his wounds, the young adeptus lifts your face with a gloved finger and brushes away the tears that flow down your cheeks. he longs to continue holding you, to feel your skin against his. you're his temporary solace from the karmic debt that hangs over his heart.

an apology slips past xiao's lips, and you cry harder, calling him 'stupid' for almost dying out there. you bury yourself in his chest and he hugs you, afraid that if he let go, you would be nothing but a dream.

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

hi! this is just a request but feel free to ignore if you don’t have time or any ideas but could you expend on “between love and lust” mc seducing foul legacy. it can be like a side story or a prequel since it happened before the current timeline.

sorry it took so long lmao law school started already and i'm drowning in cases. Thanks for this ask anon, i forgot about this series even though i already drafter the last chapter lmao, thanks for reminding me it existed hahaha. Anyways here you go, enjoy this unhinged couple lmao.

Prequel to The Consequences of Fucking in Front of the Geo Archon Statue Series: 1, 2, 3

In Love and Lust

Summary: Seeing Foul Legacy for the first time had awakened something in you, in a desperate attempt to hide how inappropriately horny you were, Tartaglia misunderstands your insatiable lust for him as fear.

--

You had always been aware that whatever happened during Tartaglia’s disappearance was life changing. You were prepared for whatever it was when you had pursued this relationship with him, just as you had reassured him you didn’t mind what his job asked of him, you were quite ready to reassure him you didn’t mind his Foul Legacy.

Seeing it for yourself however was another matter entirely.

It changed him. That much you were right.

You just weren’t prepared to see how it changed him.

So there you stood, blinking rapidly in front of your boyfriend who had laid waste to the battlefield amidst Snezhnaya’s white snow. Everything about him was big. His arms, his height,

‘His dic-’

You exhaled, trying to steady your heart and not blurt out something stupid like,

‘Bet I can take you in that form.’

You nodded, your eyes closed as you tried to convince yourself and stop your shaking legs as you took a step forward to your boyfriend’s personal space. All the while chanting inwardly for him to not notice what he just awakened in you.

“Didn’t expect to see you here” You told him, faking calm as you laugh nervously.

‘And wow, his muscles are so close and he’s so warm-’

“Is that so?” He spoke, voice deep, sultry and rumbly that it made your mouth drop and your panties wet.

His face came close to you, your wide eyes and flushed face reflecting on the large white bead on the center. His clawed hands pulled you close, resting gently on the curve of your ass.

You swallowed your saliva as you gently laid your hands on his chest, mind reeling and melting from the sheer force of your horniness for your boyfriend.

“Da-darling?” You gently called him, slight panic in your voice when you felt your warm cloak lifted and the unmistakable sound of your thick stockings being teared.

“Liar.”

In a blink of an eye you found yourself back in your shared apartment. Stockings ripped and panties soaked. Tartaglia was nowhere to be found and you swore loudly,

“At least let me suck your cock!”

You cried into your pillow with frustration as you furiously masturbated and repeatedly came with only your left hand and the vivid image of his Foul Legacy ringing in your mind. You moaned and drooled into the pillow, his lingering scent only fueling your desire and making you blind to Tartaglia’s arrival.

He watched as you fingered yourself, your legs spread wide and exposing your sopping cunt. You were moaning his name, while your free hand played with your nipples. It was a lovely sight that made him hard, it was almost enough to break his reason and make him stuff you full with his cock. Up until he remembered how scared you were earlier when you saw his foul legacy for the first time.

Instead he makes his way to the bathroom, furiously masturbating to the sounds of your moan and wet pussy echoing in the silent apartment. His hand moved up and down his throbbing cock as he imagined your squirming body as you moaned loudly, crying out his name.

He knew your go-to fantasies when masturbating to him, knew the intimate details of your deepest fantasies. So he faps to that, he imagines fucking you in that snow, ripping your clothes and exposing your pliable tits and sopping wet cunt. His cock plunging into your wet pussy, slamming it in and out and stretching it until the sensation left you drooling.

He’d gripped your tits, squeezing it and pinching its perk nipples until your moans are nothing but lewd pants of breath. He’d fuck you from behind, fucking you on all fours like a beast and biting your neck until the skin broke and he tasted blood.

He knew you’d begged for him to stop, even when you’d push your ass towards him, moving your hips in time to the thrusting of his cock. He’d fuck you until you babbled about getting pregnant, your pussy clenching to keep his dick inside. He wouldn’t stop thrusting his cock in and out of you, not even when you would orgasm.

Instead he’d fuck you harder once you told him you were about to come, hands gripping your waist tight as he controlled your body, moving it like a life sized fuck toy meant to relieve his frustrations. He knew how that thought pleases you, the image of you acting like a wanton slut in front of him, was something that never failed to drive him crazy.

His hand, gripping his cock tightened, just as he heard you orgasm from the bedroom. Your lewd voice coupled with his imagination made him cum, thick ropes of cum staining the wall as his hands slowly came to a stop.

Tartaglia sighed, taking a few moments of rest before cleaning up the bathroom. The routine was enough to calm him down, his anger and lust fading away into manageable levels. All of it quickly disappeared when he entered the room and found you passed out on the bed, legs spread wide, pussy dripping and stuffed full with the customized dildo you had made. The dildo was the exact replica of his cock and Tartaglia allowed himself a moment, a single moment of contemplation and acceptance of what being in a relationship with you entailed.

“Nnn...Tartagli..a” You moaned in your sleep.

Then he makes his way to the bathroom he had just cleaned, unzips his pants and begins to furiously masturbate again. In any other time he’d have masturbated to you right then and there, unloading his cum unto your sleeping body, maybe fucking your mouth and spilling his load down your throat but right now the two of you are in the middle of a fight and Tartaglia is petty enough to leave you horny.

--

You woke up the next morning, disappointed that neither your ready pussy nor your mouth had Tartaglia’s cum, your body wasn’t sticky from his dried cum nor was there the pleasant ache of your pussy being used to the fullest. You pout before groaning into the mattress and curling up in sexual frustration.

Tartaglia had a month off.

And you’d rather spend most of it fucking like rabbits, riding his cock, and being stuffed full with his cum. From the sounds outside your apartment window, you knew that at this time, Tartaglia was already in the training grounds.

You sighed before getting up from the bed, not bothering to cover up. You were missing the feeling of walking around the apartment with his cum dribbling down between your thighs. You made your way to the kitchen table, breakfast kept warm and no love note.

You blinked. Searching the entire area for Tartaglia’s customary love note. You frowned, sitting in a daze as you started to realize that something was very wrong.

“Oh no, we’re fighting!” You cried in despair.

You never really liked fighting with Tartaglia, the one that involved cold shoulders and no sex, no intimacy because it was always because you accidentally sent the wrong signal, made social faux pas that even he couldn’t stand and you knew that Tartaglia was the only one who could handle your crazy, your slightly dark tendencies and obsessive personality. Which meant that fights like this always made you want to fix it quickly because you didn’t want Tartaglia to sober up and realize he could do better.

Which meant that there was a need to call up your friends and dissect what you did wrong.

You glance at Tartaglia’s homemade cooking before deciding that the meeting could wait.

While you were enjoying your brunch, Tartaglia was in the training grounds beating up the new recruits and the rest of the Fatui soldiers that were brave enough to step up to fight him. He had slept terribly, missing your comforting weight in his arms and warmth of your body and your cunt warming his cock, he’d masturbated again in the shower, made you breakfast, tempted to fuck you until you woke up while getting dressed and willed his dick down before leaving the apartment.

Tartaglia really, really hated getting into a fight with you. Because it meant that the chances of you waking up and realizing that you could have a normal life were high. His flaws and demerits would outweigh whatever fondness and love you had for him, your childhood sweetheart.

He dreads the day you’d realize you can have stability, because he’d rather not resort to cutting you off from the rest of the world just to keep you by his side. He did his best to ensure you wouldn’t even entertain thoughts of breaking up with him, he catered to your wants and needs because it meant you wouldn’t try to leave. He’d raze the world to the ground if you asked as long as it meant you stayed.

He loved you deeply, darkly, and wholly.

In the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of your familiar lovable and seductive self. And immediately decided to end the spar quickly before any of the recruits got an idea.

He covers your body with his coat, making you wear it properly and hiding the enticing look of your well-endowed body from the virgin killing sweater that you wore. You blinked at him, before you smiled sweetly and devilishly.

“Darling~” You grabbed his arm and he could feel the softness of your breast and Tartaglia knew that you weren’t wearing any bra underneath. He was also willing to bet that you didn’t wear any panties either.

“You-” his words were cut off when he saw your pout, even more so when he felt the fabric of your sweater moved, he looked down and saw that half of your areola were exposed to him.

You smiled at him sweetly, knowing that you’ve already won.

“I missed you so much~” You whined, acting pitiful and cute as you discreetly directed his hand to your lubed up and throbbing pussy.

“I prepared your lunch~” You looked at him from underneath your lashes, drawing attention to your glossed lips, colored pink, and Tartaglia gave up. In a flash, he had brought you home between one breath and the next.

And then you found yourself lying on the bed, you blinked in confusion until you found your arms tied with his jacket, the rest of the sleeves tied to the headboard and you purred in delight.

“Darling~ I’ve been such a good girl right?” You asked coyly, legs already spread and showing him your throbbing pussy, anticipating his thick and long cock fucking you stupid.

Tartaglia didn’t answer before leaving the room with agitation, you spotted his cock straining against his pants and grinned.

You were getting fucked today up until the next day. You smiled pleased at the outcome of the brainstorming you had with your friends. You were so caught up in the euphoria of your apparent success that you forgot who your opponent was. Tartaglia was a trained soldier, a genius in the battlefield and a Harbinger.

He also had the additional boon of knowing you.

Which meant that from the moment you had shown up wearing the virgin killing sweater, he knew that you were planning something. He wasn’t the type to fall for the same trick twice, you wearing the sweater that made both of you graduate from being virgins wouldn’t have the same effect on him again.

Yes, it still drove him mad but compared to the first time you had used it, Tartaglia could keep his wits with him.

So your plan of using a sex potion laced lunch fell through. Tartaglia was sure that he knew what you were planning and decided to use it for his own agenda. A quick survey of the kitchen and he was able to easily deduce where you hid the remaining stash of the potion.

He grinned once he found it and quickly made his way back to you. He whistled at the sight of you, acting like you were in heat. You fluttered your lashes at him and he grinned at you wolfishly.

“I trust that you can recognize this?” He asked as his right hand shook the bottle filled with pink liquid while his left hand deftly unbuckled his pants.

“...Oh” You gulped realizing that you were now playing in the palm of Tartaglia’s hands.

His grin grew sharp, the sight of it sending your pussy throbbing as you bit your lip in anticipation.

“Look at you, being a slut. Is my cock all you can think about?” He teased as his left hand began rubbing his dick, precum dribbling out of his head.

“I also think about your abs and your mouth” You replied, while your eyes stared at his cock, tongue peaking out of your mouth.

He wipes off his precum with his fingers and slowly wiped it on the folds of your pussy, you moaned, moving your hips up to rub against his fingers until they slipped in.

“Hngg!”

His fingers make a quick work out of you, slipping in and out, building a rhythm that had you moaning loudly, until the sound of your pussy’s squelch echoed loudly in the apartment. Your eyes were closed from the pleasure of his calloused fingers rubbing your walls, making you clench and pulsate.

“Cock-Tartagli-a” Your voice shook as you began to beg, “I need your cock inside--!”

You came loudly as his fingers curled and you squirted while his fingers didn’t stop moving inside you. Tartaglia’s fingers were drenched with your juice when he removed it from your pussy, the sheets were drenched with your squirt and you lay limply on the bed.

The top of your sweater were bunched in the middle of your breast, exposing your erect nipples to the cold air and Tartaglia’s hungry eyes. He brought the bottle on top of your twitching pussy, smiled at you and said,

“Congratulations, my beloved slut, you’ll finally be my cumdump today~”

You stared blankly as you watched him open the bottle, spreading your pussy lips and dumping the entire content of the aphrodisiac into your pussy. You struggled once you felt the foreign intrusion of the bottle’s neck, its effect was instantaneous, your protest turned into a moan as you felt your mind become clouded with pleasure.

Tartaglia watched with fascination as he saw your panic melt into euphoria, the look in your eyes was lustful and wanton as you began to loudly beg for his cock. Tears dripping from your face when he only slipped in his fingers,

“Nooo~!” You cried “Cock! I want your cock!”

Your tearful begging was all it took for him to stop teasing you and thrusting his cock inside you. There was no resistance at all from your pussy, his head went inside smoothly, hitting you all the way to your wall, you moaned in pleasure, legs automatically clamping around his waist.

Tartaglia groaned at the wonderful feeling of your heat, a night of not having your pussy warm his cock was enough to drive him insane. He was a fool to not have slept with you last night.

He kissed you fervently, drowning your moans and lustful cries while his hips moved, thrusting his cock back and forth inside your wet and hot pussy. His bare chest rubbed your sensitive nipples as his body rocked back and forth in time with his hips.

“I love you” He whispered in your ears over and over again as he fucked you senseless, like a beast while you clawed at his back, mouth drooling and eyes rolled back from the pleasure.

The aphrodisiac was affecting you both, fucking frenzily to reach new heights of pleasure. Tartaglia came inside you again and again, even so his dick didn’t turn flaccid remaining hard even after multiple orgasm until your pussy felt raw.

Adrenaline rushing to your veins made you not care, you only cared about two things, Tartaglia and his cock. Your pussy was filled to the brim, abused with Tartaglia’s thick cock that repeatedly dumped his cum on your loose pussy.

Time passed but the sounds of sex didn’t stop as day turned into night.His coat was torn and your clothes turned into rags, Tartaglia had changed your position, fucking your from behind, with your ass up, thick ropes of cum, dried and drying covered your ass and back, some of it dripping from your pussy, others coating your legs and face.

He had truly turned you into his cum dump.

“Such a good slut!” Tartaglia praised as he thrusted into you, his cock pushing out his old cum from your pussy, “so good for me!”

His praise made you so happy, your back arching to give him a better angle. You clenched on his cock as he came again, milking him of his cum.

Tartaglia slipped his cock out, shushing you gently when you whined from the empty feeling. He observed your pussy, your whole was loose enough that he could see how much cum was inside you, your clit and labias were covered with dripping cum, your asshole twitching and overflowing with his earlier cum.

He smiled, “ Looks like you can easily take my cock in foul legacy form”

“No-no! It’s too big!” You cried out in panic, covering your pussy.

Your fearful eyes, hiding the lust behind it made him hornier. He smiled and transformed.

You watched with your own eyes as he donned his armor, eyes staring at his cock that grew larger before it was covered by leather. You gulped.

‘Was that a knot?’ you thought as you felt your pussy grow wetter.

“I promise I’ll be gentle”

His monstrous cock was before your eyes, it made your mouth water and then he began with fucking your mouth. You felt him reach all the way back until he hit your throat, pleasure and pain mixing together as you tried not to gagged as he used your mouth. His cock was huge and thick, veins throbbing as you did your best to blow him.

You cried as you weakly clung to his clothes, slowly losing your mind to the pleasure. He came inside your mouth, cum pouring down your throat as he gently pulled out, you closed your eyes and tried to gather the excess that dribbled from your mouth to your palm.

“Swallow it” He ordered and you happily, greedily obeyed.

Even the cum on your hand was drunk, it was thick and delicious, sweet. You opened your mouth, tongue hanging out for him to see your obedience.

His clawed hands gently ruffled your head, the pointed tips scratching your head and awakening something in you.

“Now take my cock” He said as he lifted you up and then plunged your pussy to his erection.

You moaned loudly, your stomach bulging out from his cock.

“Too much~” You cried, even as you began to move your hips, “you’re too big! I-it won’t fit inside!”

You moaned as his clawed hands helped you move up and down, making your breasts jiggle with each motion as you begged for mercy even though your body was honestly enjoying his cock.

He slipped his cock outside of your pussy, rubbing your cum covered clit and reaching all the way to your cum drenched tits.

“Nooo! Don’t take it out!” You begged in tears.

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Reason was thrown out of the window and he mounted you, pushing his cock all the way in, a miracle, that had you crying out in pleasure as he fucked you raw.

His old cum was pushed out with each thrust, clawed hands pressing on your back and holding your hips like you were a living fleshlight. Your lewd voice begging him for more as he ripped away the rest of your torn clothes.

He reached out for him, drawing him close until his mask opened and a long pointed tongue came out and entangled with yours. You made out with Foul Legacy as cock fucked your pussy raw, scraping out the cum until you came over and over again. Your thighs were drenched again, the bed shaking enough for the headboard to bang against the wall loudly.

Between your numerous orgasms you passed out just as he came inside you, flooding your womb and pussy with his cum, most of it ending up on the sheets and dripping down your pussy. He pulled out and began to fuck your thighs, bedframe creaking from the sheer force of his thrust until it broke as he spurted out and covered your entire body with his cum.

He panted heavily, engraving in his mind your blissed out expressions when you fainted from the pleasure.

‘Tomorrow, we’ll talk about your reaction when you first saw me,’ He thought as he gently lifted you up from the broken bed and made his way to the living area ‘but for now I need to get all of this out of our system.’

You woke up the next morning, face down on the table as you felt your body rocking.

“Good morning, love”

Tartaglia’s voice came from behind as you arched your back and moaned from having a dick thrusted into your sore pussy.

“Ngh!”

You turned around and found yourself staring at Tartaglia’s maskless Foul Legacy form, his eyes were slanted, and hair spiked up in soft waves.

He laughed at you softly, “Have you fallen for me again?”

“Darling~ You’ve ruined me for everyone else!” You cried as you let him see how much he affected you.

He grinned and you moaned in pleasure, when his head hit your g-spot.

“We broke the bed, so the table would have to do” He explained as he began to fuck you over the table, you were too lost in the pleasure to hear his explanation.

But he was in the same predicament as well, all thoughts of talking were gone, the moment he began fucking you as he slept. At this point, the entire apartment reeked of sex and yet neither of you remembered or cared.

Other things could wait.

[restlessfandoming]

“ice fishing” (pt. 1) (chilumi fic)

[SPOILERS FOR 1.1 AND CHILDE’S CHARACTER STORIES]

“Childe invites Lumine to the annual Snezhnayan holiday dedicated to the Tsaritsa. There, she meets his entire family, and all the conflict that comes with them.”

this one is longer than my other fics so i’m splitting it up again (sorry! i know it’s annoying to scroll through a suuuuuper long post)

as always, thanks for reading and supporting, it means the world <3

[Fic Masterlist]

“ice fishing” (pt. 1)

“Come with me to Snezhnaya,” Childe said as Lumine started eating the assortment of food he had cooked them for breakfast. 

Lumine raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was a holiday for family?”

“Lyublyu is just a holiday where Snezhnayans gather together to celebrate the Tsaritsa,” he explained. “You have more of a chance of meeting her during this time than any other time of the year.” 

Lumine chewed her food methodically. He isn’t wrong...I am on a quest to meet all the gods… “How long will we be there?” 

“The celebration lasts a week,” he responded. “Or longer, if you keep stirring up trouble wherever you go.” 

She glared at him. “Me? I fix all the trouble you stir up.”

“Right, right, sorry.” He stood up and walked over to her. “I just can’t help myself; you know I love to see you in action.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, and Lumine’s face flushed. 

It had been a few months since the two had confessed their feelings for each other—after a particularly heated sparring match, if Lumine remembered correctly. She still wasn’t 100% used to his romantic gestures, her face still heating up no matter what—which Childe found amusing. 

“So? Will you?” he asked, his voice resonating in her ear. 

She shoved a piece of bread into his mouth. “Yes, I’ll go.” 

“Great!” he said, voice muffled. He took the bread out. “We’ll be staying at my family’s home while we’re there; the little ones have been pestering me about when you’ll visit them.”

Lumine smiled fondly, thinking of the last time she saw Teucer, Tonia, and Anthon. Teucer had come back to Liyue with Tonia and Anthon (not as a stowaway this time), and the children had taken a great liking to Lumine, much to her surprise. 

“I look forward to seeing them again,” she told him. “Who else will be there? Your parents?”

His eyes softened, almost sad. “Yes, they will be there.” 

A sore subject. “Okay, well, when do we leave?” 

“As soon as you’re packed.”

Ah, so quick. But that was Childe, always on the move. 

Soon, Lumine packed quickly, as she never carried much with her anyways, and the pair was on their way to the cold country of Snezhnaya. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Walking up the pathway to Childe’s home, Lumine thought they were going the wrong way: the estate that stood on the end of the stone path was not a house. In fact, it looked closer to a castle than a home, and even had a large fountain situated in the front, along with an elaborately decorated courtyard. Beyond the home, she could see a large lake in the back. 

As they entered the home, Childe called out, “Teucer? Tonia? Anthon? I’m home!” 

Within seconds, there was a loud clattering of footsteps, and the three children appeared at the top of the grand staircase, and quickly scrambled down. They ambushed both Lumine and their brother in hugs and cheers. 

“Lumine! I missed you so much!” Teucer yelled. 

“I never thought you’d come!” Tonia cried. 

“It’s not like she died,” Anthon told them. 

“Lumine, can you tell us more stories about your adventures?” Teucer asked excitedly. Tonia and Anthon nodded as well.

“Of course,” she said, smiling as the three celebrated loudly. 

“Causing quite the ruckus as always, isn’t that right, Ajax?” a voice called from above. They all looked towards the top of the staircase. 

Standing there was another man who looked like Childe, with shorter hair, styled neater, and narrower eyes—like a fox—scheming, plotting. His lips were twisted in a sardonic grin. Next to him, a woman stood—also similar in appearance to the siblings—her lighter brown hair tightly pulled back in a bun; out of all the siblings, her eyes seemed the lightest, the iciest. Her expression was fixed in disapproval.

Lumine looked at Childe. His eyes had narrowed, mouth pulled in a taut line. 

“Lumine, this is Alexei, my elder brother,” he nearly growled. “And Misha, my elder sister.”

Childe had even more siblings all this time? Though, these two didn’t seem nearly as...loving. She glanced nervously around the room; the tension was almost electric. Even the children seemed on edge. Not the best relationship with those two…

“Lumine? What a beautiful name,” Alexei said. His voice was silky—too smooth for comfort. His eyes harbored a deep, unsettling feeling behind them. 

He sauntered down the steps, movements calculated, and Misha followed. The older sister’s hand never left the hilt of her blade that hung on her hip. 

Upon reaching Lumine, Alexei held his hand out. Lumine hesitantly placed her hand into his. 

He pulled her hand to his lips, gently kissing her hand. “A pleasure to meet you.” His eyes were on hers, unblinking. Out of the corner of her eye, Lumine saw Childe tense. 

“Dear sister, acquaint yourself with this companion of Ajax’s,” Alexei said, turning to Misha. 

Misha’s icy eyes flickered to Lumine. “Welcome to our home,” she said, almost forcibly. Her voice was deeper than Lumine expected, but was exceptionally refined and crystal clear—like royalty. The sister bowed. Lumine awkwardly bowed back. 

Misha turned on her heel. “Come, Tonia. We must resume our reading lesson for today.” 

Tonia frowned. “Can’t I stay with big brother and Lumine a little bit more?” 

Alexei’s eye twitched at “big brother.” Upset it’s not him? Lumine wondered. 

Misha held out her hand. “They’ve distracted us long enough. You will see them at dinner.” 

Tonia solemnly waved goodbye, before taking her sister’s hand, and being led back upstairs. Teucer grabbed a hold of Childe’s pants, and Anthon scooted closer to Lumine, as if they were both in search of protection. 

Alexei took note, forcing another unsettling smile. “Well, I shall leave you two to unpack. I hope to learn more about you later, Lumine.” He marched back up the stairs, and disappeared. 

Teucer hugged Childe’s leg tightly. “Can we go outside and play?” 

Anthon eyed the stairs. “Why does big sister always take Tonia away?” 

“She’s just very protective of Tonia,” Childe said, voice lined with pity. “And Teucer, we’ll play later, okay? Lumine and I are very tired from travelling.”

Anthon started heading up the stairs. “C’mon, Teucer. Let’s join Tonia.” 

“But I don’t want to learn!” 

“Tonia’s probably really sad, all alone.” 

Teucer frowned, and nodded, then joined Anthon. The two disappeared upstairs as well. 

Childe let out a heavy sigh next to Lumine. 

“So, Alexei and Misha…,” she began. 

“Aren’t the greatest siblings in the world, if you couldn’t tell,” he said, full of resentment. 

“And Ajax?”

He bit the side of his cheek. “My birth name. Only my family calls me that.” 

Lumine noted how tense Childe’s body was: fists clenched, ready to grip a weapon, any weapon. 

“Let’s duel,” she said. 

“You’re not tired?”

“Are you? I thought you were always ready for a duel?”

He scoffed playfully. “I am.”

Lumine was relieved to see him lighten up. What a stressful family.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

After an hour long match, Lumine and Childe were both sitting on the snow covered ground, panting, muscles aching. The house loomed behind them.

“You really weren’t holding back,” Childe said between breaths. “Very close to using my Foul Legacy.” 

“Hah.” Lumine let out a long breath. “Even if you did, I still would have beaten you, easy.” 

“You know, the more matches we do, the closer I am to defeating you,” he teased. 

“Yeah, right. Bring it on, pretty boy.”

“Hm? So you think I’m pretty?” 

She started charging up a Palm Vortex. “Hm? What was that?”

Water formed into daggers in Childe’s hands. “Is this Round Two?”

Lumine stood, her sword materializing in her hands. Before she could speak, there was laughter from above. She looked up. 

Alexei was watching them from the balcony, a curious glint in his eyes. “Fighting already? That relationship really didn’t last long.” 

The water dissipated from Childe’s hands as he glared at his brother. 

Lumine’s sword disappeared as well. “It was just a practice match, Alexei.” She said his name with more venom than anticipated. She couldn’t help it. The man was unsettling, and he upset not only Childe, but Teucer, Tonia, and Anthon as well. 

He raised a brow at his name. “Interesting.” He shook it off with another laugh. “Well, brother, you’d better come inside and start cooking if we’re to eat by dinnertime. The children all requested your food for tonight.” 

Childe nodded curtly at Alexei, then turned to Lumine. “I’ll be back soon.” He went to her, giving her a swift kiss on the cheek. “Don’t go anywhere with Alexei,” he whispered. Then, he went back to the house. 

Lumine looked up at the oldest brother, who was looking down at her with amusement. 

“Oh, Lumine,” he said. “Would you be a dear and grab our father down at the lake? He likes to spend his time out there.”

As long as it isn’t with you, she thought. “On it,” she told him. As she walked towards the lake, she felt Alexei’s eyes on her the entire time. Creep.

Approaching the lake, she spotted a figure sitting in the middle of the frozen lake. Is that Childe’s father? 

He looked around 50, wrinkles lining his eyes like he had spent most of his life smiling. However, there were now dark bags under his eyes; he hadn’t slept well for a while. His blue eyes seemed dull, and his ginger-brown hair—gray strands scattered about—was slicked out of his face. Kind. But tired.

When she reached him, he didn’t pay attention to her. He kept his eyes on his fishing rod that descended into a hole in the ice in front of him. They stood in silence for a minute, Lumine not even certain that he knew she existed. 

“Hello,” she said quietly, hoping not to scare him. 

He finally turned to her, and gave her a smile in greeting. “Hello there.” 

“I was told to come get you for dinner, sir.” 

He hummed cheerfully. “Are you a new housekeeper?” He turned back to the fishing rod. “I keep telling Alexei and Misha we don’t need any servants…,” he murmured. 

“Ah, I’m not a housekeeper. I know your son, Childe—Ajax, I mean.”

His eyes widened and he turned back to her excitedly. “Ajax is back?” 

She nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. 

His eyes seemed to see her, really see her for the first time. “Ajax brought you here?”

“Yes, for Lyublyu.” 

He laughed heartily. “Well, look at you! You must be...Lumine,” he said knowingly. “Many of my children have spoken very highly of you.”

“I’m flattered.” She held out her hand. 

He shook it gratefully. “I am Feliks. You can call me whatever you’d like however.” He pointed to the fishing rod. “Would you like to ice fish with me?” 

Lumine recalled Childe briefly mentioning how he had learned to ice fish when he was younger. So his father taught him… “Yes, I’d love to.” She took a seat next to him. 

Feliks told her all about ice fishing: the intricacies, the lessons, the patience. She listened attentively, warmed by his voice, and excited by the happy twinkle in his eyes. 

She and Aether never had parents. Since their birth into the world, it had just been the two of them. 

But something about Feliks definitely feels like...a father.

The two then sat in silence, waiting patiently for the fish to bite. Soon, they heard the clicking of heels on the ice. 

“Father. Lumine,” Misha’s voice rang out. “Dinner is ready.” Then just as quickly as she appeared, she disappeared back to the house. 

Feliks let out a quiet sigh, pulling the fishing rod from the ice, and began walking away. 

Lumine caught up to him. “Having so many children must be difficult.” 

“Ah, yes why so many children?” He smiled softly. “My wife and I lived very lonely childhoods. I think we both wanted a large family. Though, with so many children, a few are bound to be at odds.” He looked longingly at the house, at the large, lonely windows casting amber lights into the dusk. “I think we knew that. But when you love someone so much, having another existence to love like them—that’s just as precious as them? It absolutely fills your heart.” 

And six kids later… Her heart felt warmed, just listening to him talking about children, not that she had ever thought of having any. But she could tell, he did love them—and his wife—deeply. 

“Your wife, I’ve yet to meet her,” Lumine said. 

His smile turned sad. “You will. Galina is very kind.” 

As they drew nearer, they could hear the excited chatter of the children. “And you?” Feliks asked. “Do you plan on having any children?” 

“I don’t know.” I’ve been a bit preoccupied. The future isn’t really something to think of. 

“Hmmm. Well, I wouldn’t mind not having grandchildren. Tonia, Teucer, and Anthon are already a handful.” He chuckled. “Perhaps in the future though.” 

Lumine’s face flushed. He can’t seriously think….Childe and I?!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

[part 2]

[cryoqi]

all i wanted — paramore ━━━━━━with childe.

songs that make us want to fall in love. 

in 1.3k words.

tags angst to fluff, mentions of physical contact, gn! reader, reader is not traveler.

Several years ago, he met a golden-haired traveler accompanied by a small, pixie-like girl who berated him for how silly his love letter sounded. He didn’t mean for them to read it, but he wanted them to hold on to the letter as he fought off several Treasure Hoarders that came across their pathway onto Liyue Harbor, where he was to send the letter off into your hands. By the time he returned to the two, the letter remained unscathed just as he was, only being short of breath for just a few seconds. 

“We read your love letter,” the pixie stated, almost like it was a taunt. The traveler beside her didn’t say much except that it was written nicely, that to whomever it was being written would understand him completely, to feel as he felt. Childe gave his warmest thanks. 

“Hey!” she exclaimed, hands on her hips, “I thought it was pretty cheesy. I mean, it started out like…

“To the one I love, 

Know that I am constantly looking forward to the day I return home, the one I have always claimed as my home alone—in your arms, where the both of us are safe and sound. Know that I am here in Liyue Harbor, always thinking of you, wondering if you’re thinking of me too.

I wish I could bring you here with me. There’s so many things to see, and to do, and neither of us would ever get bored. If your parents ever let you travel outside of Snezhnaya, I know a great place for us to sit down at night and look up at the stars. I know you’d always dreamed of looking up at a clear sky, where no clouds could hinder your view of the world above us, and trust me—it’s absolutely beautiful. 

I heard the famed Lantern Rite Festival of Liyue is dawning upon us. Only the archons know if I’ll be able to attend. After all, duty calls. Though, if I do get to write my wish on a lantern, there’s one thing I’m wishing for, and no, I can’t tell you or else it won’t come true. 

I’ve got to leave for now. I’ll be sure to see you again soon. 

Say hello to my family for me.

I love you,

Ajax”

He always ended his letters like that. 

It’s been several years since you received a letter from him, and you decided to read the last one he’d sent while cleaning your bedroom. All of the letters he sent were kept in a box he found while on one of his journeys, given to you as a souvenir. 

You hadn’t realized the grin on your face that was clearly evident to anyone passing by your open room, one of which being Tonia, Ajax’s younger sister. She’d grown so much since the last time you saw her, and while your smile was one written by nostalgia, hers was of excitement. She gently held onto the doorframe, peering into your room. 

“Tonia! I didn’t expect to see you here,” you said. Pushing the letters aside, you stood up to welcome her into your room, but she stayed put by the door. 

“Your father let us in,” she commented. “Everyone’s in the living room, and there’s someone waiting for you.” 

Someone… You didn’t want to admit that you really hoped it was Ajax. After all, you hadn’t heard from him in years, and at that point it was safe to presume he was dead from whatever violent work he involved himself with, the kind he chose to disclose with you the day he left. With every passing day after you saw the door close in front of you, you couldn’t tell if your love for him grew stronger or weaker. 

With love, there was no way of telling, but one day, everything went mute, that you knew for sure. All those memories you had of you and Ajax played in your mind like static; nothing was there. Maybe it was like a final thread had snapped, causing everything to fall apart, but to you it was akin to a wearing away of a rock, where little by little, time and time again, everything you felt for him slowly diminished. 

However, when you walked into the living room and saw him sitting in the chair that you always sat in, talking with your family like a day hasn’t passed since he left, you almost wanted to drop to your knees. Blood rushed to your cheeks and feelings rushed into your heart, and all that you could manage to say was, “You’re back.”

He turned to you, wearing that same charming smile you first fell in love with. 

“I’m home.”

—

The fireplace was warm outside, and the blankets over you and him did much to preserve the heat, but you wished that you could bring him back into your bedroom, holding him in your arms. Though, you knew there was a distance between the two of you and after all those years you couldn’t just simply bring him into close quarters. Thus, the two of you were left outside to catch up on all that time lost. 

It was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. 

“Did you receive my letters?” 

You nodded. “Yes, I did.” 

Ajax chuckled. “Ah, so you must remember about the time I met that traveler, right? Two of ‘em, the traveler and a little… fairy girl. Challenged them both to a fight, but the traveler was awfully strong. Impressed me a lot, and I had to use my Foul Legacy Transformation.” 

“I never read anything about that.” You hadn’t received any letters concerning a traveler and a fairy, but you knew the kind of toll that transformation had on his body. You looked up from your lap, where your hands lay fiddling their fingers, and at him. In that instance, the exhaustion written on his face was so evident and you knew just how much he’d been through. 

You moved closer to him, though with caution, but when your hand came to rest upon his shoulder in attempts to comfort him, he winced at your touch. Then, you knew just exactly how much he had been hurting— physically, at least. Childe knew you would never come to understand the yearning he had gone through in the time he was away from you. Time and time again, being seduced by his unruly subordinates, he pushed them all away, only keeping you in his heart. You’re all he could ever want. 

He was so vulnerable under your fingertips, and it reminded you of all the times he was able to shed a single tear in your arms, to let you run your fingers through his hair, everything. You thought you wanted to cry with how fragile he seems to be. So, you pressed a kiss down on his shoulder. It’s light, and it’s airy, and it resembled the fluttering of your heart. 

Again, you looked up at him. He had a dark gaze, but he’s always had that kind of stare, but you could tell that in the depth of those blue eyes he was quietly pleading for you to heal him, even if just by means of those light, peppered kisses. You brought his hand to your lips, pressing them against each of their knuckles. They were no longer kisses. Rather, they were the press of your lips against his skin, the physical touch being all that you could muster in yourself to tell him, “I missed you very much.”

Maybe if rocks can be eroded down into pebbles, those same pebbles can be made into a statue built over time. Even if a tiny one at that, you think that with every day Ajax has returned home, you could rebuild your love for him. 

[philliamwrites]

killing me softly with his song | (Childe / Reader) [chpt.02]

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Childe / Reader

Tags: #fem!reader, #from childhood friends to lovers, #reader is a fatui agent, #slow burn, #unresolved sexual tension, #mature language, #forbidden love

Words: 3.5k

Summary: "Lybuov zla, polyubish i kozla,“ sighs your sister as she wipes off the table, but that makes you feel even more miserable. Falling for a goat might save you from an actual heartbreak by Tartaglia’s hands.

Notes: Part 1

Masterlist

Chapter 2

At the barracks’ canteen reigns the unspoken rule that no one is allowed to cook borsch, and trying to do so is punished by cleaning all windows with cold water only in the middle of the night. Can’t see anything because the nights at the outskirts of Zapolyarny are blacker than out in the taiga? Tough luck. There are so many different recipes as there are families out there, and everyone has their very own way to make it. Fatui agents have brought each other to the hospital wing over fighting which recipe is the best, therefore a couple of years before Tartaglia and you enrolled, this rule was established.

Sitting out in the cold of Jaroslawk at four in the morning, you’d kill for a hot bowl of your mamochka’s borsch—the best in Morepesok even though Tartaglia begs to differ, but the only problem with his claim is that he is fucking wrong.

Through your binoculars you see everything is quiet and dark on the other side of the compound, which is a good sign. Unfortunately, good also means very boring. You’ve been lying in the exact same position for nearly three hours now: on your belly, elbows slightly propping your upper body to see the Baron’s estate that’s embraced by a forest like a mother cradling its child. Tales have it if you make even one little mistake inside those cold brick walls, Baron Igor would personally see to it that you don’t leave these woods alive and whatever his hellish guard dogs don’t finish eating up, his servants would send to your family as a small parting gift and warning to get as far and fast away as possible.

If only he were as thorough covering his tracks as he is scaring people, but Baron Igor has never really excelled at multiple things and now, months after the first little bird brought some interesting insight, you can’t wait for Baron Igor to finally slip and confirm the rumours about him selling information on one of Il Dottore’s gun research labs to a spy from Sumeru. Intel has it exchanges usually occur once every full moon and with the orb now hidden behind thick, black clouds, this is the last chance to get some evidence before the ship leaving to Sumeru carries whoever deserves a knife in their windpipe back to their God of Wisdom.

Baron Igor has messed up, got too arrogant, and now you and your team are here to make sure he eats up his mess. It wasn’t easy to infiltrate his mansion. Mitsuki only passed because you took out two of the other contesters for one of the Baron’s favourite restaurants down in Nowobirsk. That man bows to greed and when introduced to the place’s new maître d’hôtel—the best of his kind, the most exotic to own during their flimsy ceasefire with Inazuma—Baron Igor acted swiftly and hired him. Mitsuki had gagged at those words while lieutenant Scaramouche had shown the patience of a man barely holding himself back from violence. Two days later, Mitsuki took his position as spy and head waiter of the Baron’s personal restaurant taking up the whole second floor in the right wing of his stone mansion.

“Fuck me, I look like a penguin,” Mitsuki had said on the night before his work began at the estate, glaring at himself in the mirror dressed in a sharply tailored tuxedo.

“Then we know who to call if Baron Igor decides to open a zoo,” Mikhail had said, but he was in no hurry to turn away his appreciative gaze from how tight Mitsuki’s black pants tugged his slim legs and ass.

That’s the team, Mitsuki, you and Mikhail—Lock, Shock and Barrel, one of your fellow division’s comrade likes to call you for unknown reasons, simply laughing to himself and shaking his head as if trying to get rid of a good memory. Though for all that Scaramouche is concerned, to him you’re triple double and a clusterfuck he doesn’t want anywhere near him or so help him Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, he’ll stake your heads and scatter your remains to the seagulls terrorising the coast of Port Odessa.

“He loves us,” Mikhail likes to joke, even though you aren’t sure the words love and Scaramouche should be used in one sentence.

“One day, he’ll kill one of us with his bear hands and feel nothing,” Mitsuki commonly remarks, sounding like whatever you’d do to receive such a punishment is probably ghastly enough to justify being murdered.

“His hat is pretty neat,” is usually your only contribution and they both look at you as if you’re crazy.

“Any movement?” a voice asks from your right. Mikhail shakes still fresh snow from his head and shoulders as he dugs under the narrow doorway, looking like a puppy trying to shake itself dry. Now that a year has passed since a Geo Vision user crushed his right arm and healers had to amputate it to save his life, he’s adapted pretty well to only one arm and hand at his disposal. He’s balancing a cup in his palm while holding two paper bags with his fingers and somehow makes it look easy. He rejoins you at the window, carefully placing the steaming cup and one bag in front of you. You hand him your binoculars so he can see for himself, and inspect your breakfast. “Do I even want to know where you found,” you peak inside the bag, “pirozhky at a time like this?”

“Couple of blocks down there’s this place. Really nice lady, gave me one for free and added a little extra to our coffee.”

You take a sip, and instantly begin coughing and pounding your chest as it goes down burning. “Archons, that’s disgusting. Who in their right mind puts Fire-Water in their coffee?”

“I know, right?” Mikhail beams. “It’s genius.”

It’s ghastly. You take another sip. Horrible, really. But it keeps you warm and awake. So maybe it isn’t that bad at all.

While Mikhail observes the area, you dig into your beef and onion pirozhky. There’s nothing fun about pulling an all-nighter but sometimes sharing a cup of coffee and eating warm food helps to get through them. Also knowing someone suffers with you. Sharing pain is gain, after all.

“Well, they sure like taking their sweet time,” Mikhail mumbles, getting a little more comfortable on the cold stone ground. He puts the binoculars away and digs into his own food. “What are we gonna do if nothing happens today?”

“Then we’ll come back next month and do it all over again.” Hopefully you don’t have to. Fyrva’snezh was two weeks ago but this winter started off particularly brutal. Two out of three units are still missing from their outskirts training and you don’t want to be in the poor lasses’ and lads’ shoes who are still at the infirmary recovering from severe hypothermia. “What worries me more is that Mitsuki might lose his sanity if he stays there another whole month.”

“Well, what doesn’t kill him makes him stronger,” Mikhail says, wiping his greasy fingers off his pants. “I just want to wipe that smug smirk off the Baron’s pig face.”

He and probably every citizen populating Jaroslawk. “Once Mitsuki locates the communication point, we’ll go in and neutralise the target if we can’t catch him alive,” you say. “Baron Igor will try and weasel his way out of it but so far all evidence stands against him. The rest is up to Her Majesty.” And the Tsaritsa is known for many things, but mercy isn’t one of them. That will show anyone else trying to make business behind her back.

“Do you really think Mitsuki will endure another month in that stupidly tight uniform?” Mikhail sounds like he very much wished for another month out in the cold like this if it meant Mitsuki would bless him for a while longer wearing his uniform.

You stretch your leg and kick him in his shin. “Don’t jinx this, Nozhyalensky,” you say. “No matter how good his ass looks in those pants, it isn’t worth freezing your own ass off out in this cold. If we have to extend our mission, I’m going to steal your coat and own it for the whole time.”

“You don’t care if I freeze to death?”

“I really don’t.”

He puts his hand on his heart in mock despair. “That’s harsh.”

It would be his own fault, no hard feelings. You sit in silence, sharing your scalding hot coffee. In the mansion on the other side, a light flickers on in the east wing. Mikhail shifts and makes a disgusted grunt. “I did not want to know the Baron is banging the Duchess of Pavlovich.”

“Might be good leverage in the future.” You quickly dot it down in your notebook, squinting at the barely illuminated page. “Especially if the Duke refuses to pay his taxes again. I’m sure we can get to him through her.”

More minutes pass in silence. Mikhail continues his watch while you start to mindlessly doodle a little Foul Legacy Child in the corner of your page. You wonder what time it is in Liyue. Is Childe also out on a mission or tugged in and sleeping well in a land that knows nothing of harsh winds and freezing nights. Does he spare a thought of home? Is he missing you as much as you miss him or has he already filled the gnawing void with faceless, warm women that comfort him at night?

“Heard anything from our comrades in Liyue?” Mikhail asks nonchalantly, but he’s always been the poorest liar of you three and it’s pretty obvious where this conversation is going. Part of you hungers for that conflict.

“They still can’t find whoever killed the Geo Archon. But Lord Childe might have located the Gnosis and has begun his infiltration.”

Chances are good he might succeed in another month or so, though from the letters you’ve received so far, it sounds like he might succeed fucking the consultant of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor before that. Tartaglia has never started anything serious with guys before, safe from occasionally drunk making outs, but new cultures could change a lot in you and it’s Tartaglia’s first time staying for so long in Liyue and meeting a man like this so called Zhongli.

Mikhail clicks his tongue in disgust. “I can’t believe this guy is over there for three months already and is still nowhere near finishing the job.” He spits at the ground and twists his mouth in a very familiar manner of annoyance—only usually this expression is meant for initiate Fatui members who can’t tell a shotgun from a sniper rifle.

“How can you still be mad at him for handing you your ass three years ago,” you say. A man’s ego is such a frail thing, thank the Tsaritsa for being a strong, independent woman.

“This isn’t about that stupid fight,” Mikhail splutters, red blotches creeping up his neck. His inability to lie is abysmal. “I don’t get how you stand that guy. His arrogance needs its own giant room to fit inside. Someone needs to knock him down a peg or two and maybe beat out this need to whore around as well—”

You move in a flash. Mikhail doesn’t have any time to react before he finds himself on his back, pinned down by your weight with a knife to his throat. “Mikhail, I love you like my own kin and you know I’d take a bullet for you any time,” you growl. “But speak another filthy word about Childe and I will cut off your tongue and feed it to street dogs while watching you bleed out like a slaughtered pig. Are we clear?”

You feel Mikhail’s chest rising and falling under your spread hand, his body warm, proof of his life. How easy it would be to take it from him, to warm the cold, dirty ground with his blood.

Mikhail’s dark eyes don’t give away anything. He’s holding very still, like a cornered animal faced with its hunter; don’t move and maybe it thinks one is dead. Eventually, he says quietly, “If you could see what an unlikeable, unpleasant person he really is, maybe...” He doesn't finish. There is no need to. You know very well what point he’s trying to make.

“I don’t need your supervision,” you say. “Or your pity.”

Mikhail barks a loud, humourless laugh. “Lassie, if I had an ounce of pity left for anyone else than myself, I wouldn’t be very good at this job, would I?”

You shift your weight. Mikhail groans as you put pressure on a wound a Pyro Vision user inflicted on him a week ago that hasn’t fully healed yet—a favour for Mikhail to prevent him from following his train of thought. You don’t know what is worse: His unrequited love for Mitsuki or Tartaglia and you knowing what you both want but can’t have.

Mikhail quietly says your name and gently lowers your hand. The sharp knife has bit into his skin just enough to leave a fine, red line on his throat. “All I’m saying is, I am not the bad guy here.”

He is right, of course. But that makes it even worse, because without a bad guy, who could you put blame on? Who would be the target of your frustration and your scorn? Who would pay for countless sleepless nights wasted alone or in a stranger’s arms?

If there is no good, no bad side, no villains or heroes to put blame on, what does that leave for you? Just the law. It is hard, but it is the law.

There is no one but yourself who carries the burden. Even knowing Tartaglia goes through the same doesn’t soothe the pain steadily growing in your heart. You’re like two stars gravitating to each other, seeking the sweet collision to finally become one and create something bigger, the most exquisite light in the endless black galaxy, but whenever you manage to come close to each other, other forces pull you apart.

You shift your position from towering above him to slumping back on Mikhail’s lap, your anger deflated like a balloon.

“Arguing with you is no fun,” you mumble, sheathing the knife back in its place inside your boot.

Mikhail arches one dark brow. “Learnt from the best. You don’t want to get into an argument with my mama.”

“Are you two leaving me out from a team bonding session?” comes a static voice from your left.

“Darling, we would never leave you out from a potential threesome,” Mikhail says back, a wicked grin flirting with his mouth.

“Blergh,” you groan in disgust and roll off him, grabbing for the plastic piece from where Mitsuki’s voice has sounded; Il Dottore’s newest invention, a voice transmitter agents use for long distance communication.

“So, how’s it cooking, good looking?” Mikhail asks, ignoring your eyes rolling back. “Anything new at the front?”

Mitsuki is silent for a moment. Somewhere, a dog barks. “I think someone might have tipped the Baron off.”

Immediately, you feel Mikhail's body tense next to you. “Do you need us to come in?”

Oppressive silence fills the room. Mikhail jerks, but before he can jump to rash actions, you grab his arm hard enough to bruise. He freezes, and you both stare at the voice transmitter in Mikhail’s hand.

A moment later, static crackles, and Mitsuki says, “I received a note on the caviar shipment. Roads are all clear, it should come in around seven in the morning.”

Mikhail relaxes, but a sweat bead rolls from his temple and disappears behind his black turtle neck sweater. He sags against you, exhaling very loudly.

A couple of years ago, after you three had been working together and hadn’t tried to kill each other as often as other teams, you guys had decided to come up with your own secret language for times like these. Mikhail had first complained about the hours put into learning it the most—the semantics always changing depending on what line of work you’d infiltrate—but eventually even he had agreed it was a pretty neat trick. What Mitsuki has said simply means all is in order and the mission is proceeding smoothly.

“Little fucker,” Mikhail grumbles, ruffling his own hair just to keep his hand busy. You agree. It feels like you’ve aged five years in those last five minutes.

That relief is short lived. A small explosion from the right wing inside the mansion lights up the night like a firework show. Mikhail is out of the window in a flash. You grab your rifle, keeping an eye on him as he crosses the street in a flash and climbs over the iron gate.

Two shadows tumble through the hole in the second floor. You sway your scope, laying eyes on Mitsuki as he wrestles with a cloaked figure. Purple sparks fly, clashing with crimson flames that rise skyward and turn into black smoke. At least something is according to plan even though your Cryo Vision would be more effective.

You watch them fight for a moment, unable to get a clear shot as both are short distance fighters. Mitsuki moves quicker than a flash, whirling two hatches over his head, parrying a deathly bow from the Sumeru’s Claymore. Mitsuki is smaller than most of his comrades. People like to underestimate him, but that’s part of the fun, according to him. Proving people wrong. He dodges another swift strike, rolling out of the way and giving you a clear sight at your target. But over his shoulder, Mitsuki catches your eyes and gives the tiniest shake of his head. Not yet.

You wish he could see the stingy eye you’re giving him right now. You’ve waited long enough out in this cold and your whole body shakes with the need to move, the need to fight. A quick look to Mikhail shows he’s fending off two of the Baron’s guards himself. Luckily, they can’t really hold their stand against a fully trained Fatui agent. He quickly takes out his opponents, closing in on Mitsuki and the Sumeru agent. Mitsuki has driven him to the edge of the forest. So that’s his plan. You wait until the spy is right beneath a long, thick branch, then pull the trigger. The shot is muffled by the silencer, slicing through the air with infused Cryo power. It hits its target, cutting the branch off. The Sumeru spy is too slow. When the branch buries him under its weight, Mikhail finally catches up to Mitsuki, and through your scope you can see him patting Mitsuki down for injuries. Mitsuki pushes him away, not hard or in a mean way, just enough to signal this isn’t the time. The job isn’t done yet.

Mitsuki advances the spy and kneels, looking for signs of life. He looks up, his dark eyes searching your scope. He holds your gaze, picking up his voice transmitter.

“I have good and bad news,” he says. “The spy is still alive, so we’ll get our answers. But now I’m pretty sure the Baron knows what’s going on.”

“Then don’t just stand there, someone go after him, quick!” you yell in your transmitter.

Before Mikhail dashes off, you hear him curse. “Lord Scaramouche is going to kill us.”

He will, considered this was supposed to undergo without the Baron noticing anything.

* * *

Dear little tygress,

forgive my horrible handwriting. I am still shaking from all the laughter your last letter gave me. Zhongli-xiansheng was actually worried for my wellbeing because I had choked on air and almost died. I swear, you will kill me one day, little tygress.

Speaking of little and potential lethal beasts, I’m surprised Scaramouche didn’t use your head as a toilet plunger. I really do think he's fond of you, little tygress. Any other team would be six feet under by now. You have to tell me your secret once I’m back. Scaramouche still doesn’t know I broke his favourite, ugly cup with the bear on the front from Fontaine, and I want to be prepared once he knows.

Everything is the same in Liyue, and at the same time, everything is changing. Rex Lapis’ murder is still unsolved, and I do enjoy watching the little traveller boy run around looking for answers. Once I return with the Geo Archon’s gnosis, dinner will be on me.

How are things at home? I hope Tonia hasn’t finished all mooncakes by herself again and saved some for the rest of the bunch. I can’t bear to hear Anthon cry again about me only sending sweets to Tonia and Teucer. Has the old man gotten in touch with you? He still doesn’t reply to me, but mama says he’s reading the letters. Maybe a bottle of Liyue’s Baijiu will loose his tongue, or hand for that matter. It’s almost as good as Fire-Water, promise.

Till next time and don’t get too much on little ‘Mouche’s nerves, otherwise there will be no room left for me.

Yours, Red Fox

__________________________________________________

please drop by my ko-fi if you enjoyed my writing!

[zebrabaker]

Choosing Destiny; Part 1

TA-DA! I promised this to @sayuricorner like, two weeks ago, but it’s finally done! THis is a Twisted Wonderland/Ever After High crossover, and pretty salty. PLEASE COMMENT

Rook had been relaxing in a grove when he heard a rustling in the woods. His eyes snapped to the side when a branch snapped just beyond the tree line. Slowly, he stood, preparing to fight if necessary. Then, stumbling, no, limping, out of the woods, came a girl. Her skin was deathly pale, and her t-shirt and sleep pants were shredded in some places. Her left ankle was swollen and bruised, and she whimpered every time she put her weight on it. The girl’s eyes lit with hope and desperation when she saw him, and she froze, lifting her hands in the universal gesture of surrender.

“Please, I don’t know where I am, or what I’m doing here, or how I got here. I just need a doctor, I hurt my ankle at one point, running from a pack of wolves. I hid in a tree for a few hours, but I’m really lost and scared and I don’t know what to do.” Her voice was rising and her eyes starting to water.

“You can come here, Mademoiselle. I won’t hurt you. Come, there should be a doctor at the school.” He slowly walked towards her, keeping his hands up to show he was no threat. Still, the girl remained wary, her shoulders tense. He took her hand in his, and slipped an arm around her shoulder. She sagged into him, and he could feel how weak she was. Slowly, they made their way towards the main building. Almost halfway there, the girl let out a gentle yelp and collapsed, clinging tight to his arm in an attempt to stay upright. Thinking fast, he squatted and swept his free arm under her legs before standing. After taking a moment to adjust his hold on her, he continued up the path, moving slowly to not jostle the poor girl. How had she gotten lost in the woods? There wasn’t anything but trees for miles around.

They had just entered the main building when the girl spoke.

“My name is Raven. I really can’t thank you enough for helping me.” Her voice was lovely to hear, slightly raspy and sweet like a candy apple.

“There is no need to thank me, it’s what anyone would do. My name is Rook Hunt. We’re almost to the nurse’s office. How did you get lost in the woods? There’s nothing around for miles.” There were no students in the hallways, as it was technically time for classes. He had a free period, so he wouldn’t get in any trouble. Gently tapping his boots against the door to the nurse’s office, he waited for the school nurse, Nurse Isla, to open the door.

“Mister Rook? Who is this young lady?” The frail looking woman asked. She stepped back, making room for Rook to carry Raven over to a cot and set her down.

“My name is Raven, ma’am. I got lost in the woods. Where am I?” Isla and Rook shared a look. Everyone in Twisted Wonderland knew what NCR was.

“Well, you’re at Night Raven College, of course.” Raven’s brow furrowed.

“I have no idea where that is. Are we still in the White kingdom, or anywhere near Ever After High?” Something like realization dawned on Nurse Isla’s face.

“Mister Hunt, you need to go fetch the Headmaster.”

“What? Why? Is something wrong?” There was a note of panic in Raven’s voice.

“Nothing dangerous dear, now let’s see what we can do for that ankle of yours.” Rook waited no longer, and left for the head office.

X0X0X

Today had started well, considering that it was just three days since the disaster that was Legacy Day. Maddie was sick with some Wonderland virus, and had been in the school infirmary for a day and a half, leaving Raven alone. Most of the other Rebels had been supportive, but she wasn’t close with any of them. She had taken to hiding in the woods between classes, just to avoid the hateful words and glares of the Royals. Everything had gone wrong when she had tried practicing her magic. She centered herself, and slowly took deep breaths. She had just been trying a simple teleportation spell to take her back to her room when a twig snapped and she lost control. The next thing she knows, the woods look different, and she hears the baying of hungry wolves.

“Ah!” She snapped out of her remembrance when the nurse pressed on her ankle.

“Sorry, dear, but I need to check if anything is broken.” The nurse continued to poke and prod the throbbing area. After five minutes, the nurse spoke again. “Not broken, but seriously sprained. I’ll need you to drink a potion, and it should heal in a few minutes. For now, just stay here.” The nurse bustled away, rifling through a cabinet for a few moments. The door swung open, revealing a man in what looked like a plague mask. This must be the headmaster, she realized.

“Hello, young lady. I am Headmaster Crowley; might I know your name?”

“I’m Raven Queen, sir.” She greeted.

XOXOX

Crowley watched as the girl seemed to shrink as she introduced herself. Odd, she was a rather pretty girl, but she seemed scared to death of him.

“Queen? That’s a rather unusual last name.” Nurse Isla commented as she came back over, carrying a potion vial.

“It’s from my mother’s side.” Raven murmured, looking ashamed. “Next Evil Queen and all that…” Crowley sucked in a deep breath. Between her references to Ever After High and what she just said, this girl was a descendant of the Beautiful Queen, one of the seven founders.

“Drink up, Miss Queen.” Nurse Isla said, handing Raven a small vial. Raven wrinkled her nose and drank the potion like a shot, gagging on the foul taste. He winced in sympathy. Nurse Isla’s potions were terrible tasting, but they worked wonders.

“Miss Queen, if you would come with me, we can get you sorted out.” Raven nodded and swung her legs over the edge of the cot, testing her weight on her ankle as she slowly stood. With her arm wrapped around herself, the girl slowly padded after him down the hall. Classes were still in session, which was probably for the best, since Raven looked ready to jump out of her skin at the slightest hint of danger.

“Um, Sir, where am I? The nurse said something about a college?”

“This is Night Raven College; an elite boy’s school founded several hundred years ago by seven powerful people. I believe you are descended from one such person, the one we call the Beautiful Queen. However, I need to test this belief, before we decide what to do with you.”

“Really? But, why would you call her that? She was second fairest, that’s just…how the story always goes.” Raven asked, seeming to hesitate.

“Though Snow White was deemed fairer than the Queen, Snow’s beauty and kindness were a façade, hiding just as much vanity and cruelty as the so-called ‘Evil Queen’. Honestly, such a mean thing to call someone.” He sniffed. Miss Queen was looking at him like he was quite mad. They arrived at his office, and he pushed the door open, revealing the floating mirror. He heard Miss Queen suck in a deep breath.

“Is that…the first magic mirror? It went missing almost five hundred years ago!” She slowly walked forward, reaching out one hand towards the glowing mirror. Right before she set her hand against the gilded frame, the mirror lit up, making her recoil in shock.

“Who goes there?” It boomed, an eerily under-lit face appearing in the perfectly smooth glass. “You!” The face boomed. “You are of the blood of Queens! You are not to be here! Has the fool Grim truly let one slip from his grasp after so long?”

“If Headmaster Grimm knew where I was, he would have taken me back to Ever After High by now. He’s very strict on the whole ‘destiny-or-poof’ thing…” Raven seemed disgruntled. “So, what exactly is this place? Everyone keeps calling it a college, but what kind of college has the First Mirror?” Hmm. Miss Queen seemed to be rather bright.

“Well, simply put, Night Raven College is a prestigious boy’s high school for those with the potential to become a truly powerful magic user. We were founded almost five hundred years ago by seven powerful beings, each of whom has a house for their favored students. Your ancestor founded Pomefiore on her heavy efforts.” Crowley paused as an idea came to mind. “Say, Miss Queen, I have a most brilliant idea! Why do we not enroll you as a student?”

“What?” The girl spluttered. “I thought you said this was a boy’s school?”

“Only by tradition. There’s no official school rule or policy that says no girls can attend. Now, to begin, simply place your hand flat against the mirror. From there, the magic of the mirror will sort you into the proper house. I highly doubt you’ll be placed anywhere but Pomefiore, but formalities must be observed!”

X0X0X

Raven, feeling rather steamrolled, did as she was told, pressing her palm flat against the cool glass. She shuddered at the slight tingle that raced up her arm and down her spine from the overwhelming magic in the mirror. The image of a poison dipped apple appeared in the mirror, with the poison taking the shape of a skull.

“Just as I expected then! Now all you need is a uniform!”

“I can handle that aspect, my mother, despite being in the mirror prison, taught me whatever interested me magic wise. I wanted to be a fashion designer when I was a little girl…” Her voice trailed off, melancholy, as magic washed over her. “I can base it off the uniform I saw Rook in earlier.” Raven’s hair tumbled down her back, dark and smooth, missing the usual purple streaks, and reaching the small of her back. She wore a peasant collared, knee length black dress with sleeves reaching just beyond her elbows. Underneath were fishnet knee highs, and fingerless gloves of the same material. Around her waist was a lavender knot belt that matched the headband that materialized on her head, and the new shoes that appeared on her feet.

“Most impressive, Miss Queen!” Headmaster Crowley cheered. And it really was. In a swirl of lavender and lilac magic, her clothing had been completely transfigured from decidedly disheveled and torn pajamas to a fully functional, seemingly stable outfit.

“Ah, it’s nothing. I haven’t done it in a while, since I was maybe thirteen, I suppose. I just…lost interest.” She shrugged, seeming to shrink under his praise. There was a knock at the door, and Grim clapped his hands.

X0X0X

“Ah, there’s your new dorm-mate. Come in, Mister Felmier!” He called towards the door. It swung open to reveal a rather short boy with purple hair, who was almost as pale as she was.

“You called for me, headmaster?” The boy asked, seeming to be scared of his own shadow.

“Indeed! I’d like you to meet Miss Raven Queen! She’s just been sorted into Pomefiore, I was hoping you could show her to the dorms, as I have some business to deal with concerning her enrollment. Miss Queen, I leave you in capable hands!” And with that, the headmaster was gone.

[wiseabsol]

WA Reviews “Dominion” by Aurelia le, Chapter 11: The Chase

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6383825/11/Dominion

Summary: For the Fire Nation royal siblings, love has always warred with hate. But neither the outward accomplishment of peace nor Azula’s defeat have brought the respite Zuko expected. Will his sister’s plans answer this, or only destroy them both?

Content Warnings: This story contains discussions and depictions of child abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, and incest. This story also explores the idea that Zuko’s redemption arc (and his unlearning of abuse) is not as complete as the show suggested, and that Azula is not a sociopath (with the story having a lot of sympathy for her). If that doesn’t sound like your cup of tea, I would strongly recommend steering clear of this story and my reviews of it.  

Note: Because these were originally posted as chapter reviews/commentaries, I will often be talking to the author in them (though sometimes I will also snarkily address the characters). While I’ve also tried not to spoil later events in the story in these reviews, I would strongly recommend reading through chapter 28 before reading these, just to be safe.

Now on to chapter 11!

CHAPTER 11: THE CHASE

Alright, so on to chapter eleven, “The Chase.” I think I know why I stalled on this one, besides life getting in the way: there’s a game in this chapter, in which the readers are challenged to find all of the trope names that Aurelia has snuck into Sokka’s POV sections. And, despite being one of the betas for this story (which renders the reward for finding all of the tropes meaningless), I still want to win. So let’s put on ATLA’s soundtrack and get cracking!

 We start with the Gaang arriving at the Royal Palace. Toph still has a crush on Sokka, which both Sokka and Suki are aware of. He describes Katara and Aang as “Sickening Sweethearts” for the first trope. I like that Aang has a “gusty” laugh here—it’s a nice pun. Aang is in such a good mood and I’m like, “Oh buddy, you just wait, the angst is imminent.” Sokka thinks that it’s been two weeks since they last visited, which might be a hyperbole on his part, but if so, boy have things changed quickly.

 “Little lump of baby fat who was heir to the Burning Throne” is a great description, though I have my doubts that Lu Ten is going to sit on that throne, given that there’s a chance that he’s a non-bender (which, along with the sexism that has made it so that they’ve never had a woman ruler before, is something the Fire Nation will need to get over at some point, since it could be seen as a fantasy equivalent to ableism).

 “Having gotten to know Zuko a little better since then, he concluded it would probably actually suck to be royalty.” Yes and no, Sokka. Definitely don’t doubt how sweet—okay, to interject for a second, “Leaves on the Vine” just came on and it hurts my heart—but anyway, Sokka, don’t doubt how sweet being royal is. There is a reason that people fight for that title. Being a responsible ruler, on the other hand—one who works their butt off to serve the people—yeah, that can be rough, because you need to go to those meetings and listen to those complaints. Doing so is, hopefully, also rewarding to the soul, but in Zuko’s case…hard to say. I think he prefers to be directly involved in making things better, rather than being in a managerial position. I think I’ve mentioned before how he should have been sent on rebuilding and reparations missions, with someone like Iroh doing the governance side of things…though putting Iroh in charge might have been scandalous after the Siege of Ba Sing Se. There were no good choices there.

 “Missing Mom” for the second trope. “He found himself wondering if dysfunction was some kind of prerequisite for royal families.” No, though I can’t imagine that the pressures of living in the public eye, making decisions that affect an entire land and its people, and trying to build a legacy helps. Doing that for a few years is probably fine, but not for your entire life.

 Sokka makes an amusing fish pun in this section. “First Love,” “Manly Tears,” and “Vengeful Spirit” for the third, fourth, and fifth tropes.

 The Gaang arrives at the throne room, where Zuko and Iroh are arguing. Zuko mentions something about selling Azula to someone, which must be the Earth Kingdom, since he had a tense conversation with them last chapter. Zuko is in a foul mood, snapping at his friends as they walk in.

 “Visual Pun” and “Clean Cut” for a sixth and seventh trope. The Gaang and Zuko then start talking, with Katara quickly catching on to the fact that Zuko was in a fight with Azula. Zuko explains that Azula slashed his face with a pin, and almost mentions that he and Azula slept together, before cutting himself off and blushing. Sokka notices the blush and is confused by it.

 “Aang breezed up to him”—I see your pun, Aurelia.

 Toph asks where Mai is, and Zuko tells them that Mai and Lu Ten are staying with Mai’s family. You know what, totally fair, Mai. I’d want space too. Zuko goes over Azula’s escape and mentions that they fought, and Sokka points out that Zuko should have been able to track her afterwards, since he’s a “Scarily Competent Tracker” (for an eighth trope). Zuko lies and says that Azula knocked him out, which Toph notices.

 “I’m kinda starting to doubt her resolve,” Sokka says about Azula killing Zuko. This is both funny and sad, because, well, Azula and Zuko are siblings. No one should have to worry about one of them legitimately wanting to kill the other, even in the games of thrones. It doesn’t even occur to Sokka that Azula might care for Zuko. And why would it? As far as he knows, she tried to kill Zuko during their Agni Kai, and before that sounded excited about the prospect of becoming an only child.

 Sokka is annoyed that things aren’t adding up in this conversation, and Zuko bursts out that he doesn’t know why Azula does the things that she does, which is another lie. Toph catches on to that one, too, but isn’t sure what it means. What’s notable here, though, is that Zuko is so used to calling Azula crazy that he says this as an outburst, even though he knows better. It’s a kneejerk reaction for him.

 Zuko tells them that the Earth Kingdom is planning to execute Azula if they catch her, which offends Aang, since the tribunal agreed that life in prison would be Azula’s maximum sentence. Zuko explains that the politics around her case got dirty, shocker. Aang matured a lot during the show, but in some ways, he’s still rather naive.

 “‘I gave them everything they ever asked!’ Zuko raged helplessly, glaring at the black stone floor. ‘Why can’t they just give me my sister?’”—This is sweet, though I think that Azula would be offended by the idea of anyone giving her to someone else.

 “Mismatched Eyes” for a ninth trope. Toph tells Zuko that he’s just going to have to find a way around the Earth Kingdom’s sentence, which Iroh and Zuko agree with her on. Zuko mentions that they’re having their lawyers look into the court case, and then turns on Suki, asking how Azula got slapped with a torture charge.

 Sokka says that Zuko is out of line for accusing Suki here, but honestly? Getting slapped with a torture charge is huge, especially when there’s no evidence that the accused did it. It’s slanderous and I’m not surprised that Zuko is reacting poorly to it. The implication here is that Suki’s comrades lied about the torture out of spite, or, if they were tortured, that it wasn’t on Azula’s orders. The Fire Nation absolutely did torture people, namely the Southern Water Tribe’s benders…but so did the Earth Kingdom, since they psychologically tortured and brainwashed their own civilians in Ba Sing Se. One crime doesn’t negate the other—they both need to be held accountable for their actions—but there is definitely some hypocrisy here from the Earth Kingdom.

 Suki seems to think that her comrades were tortured, or at least she didn’t want them to “lie on [Azula’s] behalf.” But Suki, do you know for a fact that it happened? Obviously, I think that you should believe your comrades, since it’s better to believe the victims than not. But if it happened, who tortured them? Has the person who gave those orders been brought to justice? Because letting Azula be scapegoated for someone else’s crimes isn’t justice, it’s vindictiveness, and it means that somewhere out there, an actual torturer went free.

 “Ridiculous accusations”—no, Sokka, this is a fair accusation, and it’s something that should have been brought to Zuko’s attention during the court case, or at least to the attention of Azula’s lawyers. They have the right to know what their client is being accused of and the evidence against them. That is, in fact, how the law is supposed to work. Mind you, I’m speaking of modern law practices, but it seems like their law practices are analogous.

 Sokka says that Azula getting beheaded would be a favor for everyone, and Zuko snaps. He lunges at him—Sokka gets his boomerang out—and Iroh steps between them. Iroh scolds Zuko for being so aggressive with his friends, which is fair. He’s lashing out a lot during this conversation. Zuko then breaks down, with Suki and Katara hugging him in response. Toph sighs in a “Surrounded by Idiots” way for a tenth trope.

 Sokka feels guilty over making Zuko cry. “He guessed that even if she was a crazy bitch, she was his sister, too. Of course that was what Zuko would think of, when it looked like she was going to die. Zuko had got this way when she starved herself too, Sokka recalled, and thought that he should have remember that sooner.”—Yeah, no kidding, Sokka. A little empathy and tact would have served you much better in this conversation.

 Sokka apologizes shortly after this and Zuko apologizes in return. Katara promises that they’ll always help Zuko, and I wonder if that would still be true if they knew that he’d raped Azula (which he definitely did, even if he didn’t realize it at the time, since Azula wasn’t able to consent).

 Sokka “wondered idly why [Katara] couldn’t forgive him that quickly when he said something tactless.” While Sokka assumes that it’s because Zuko is crying, I’m pretty sure that it’s because Katara has an unacknowledged crush on Zuko, so she’s more inclined to cut him some slack.

 “It would be like Toph shoe-shopping. No one would buy it.”—This is very funny.

 “Sokka reflected again on the idiocy of investing this much time, emotion, and debate into someone as damaged and dangerous as Zuko’s psycho little sister.”—I see what you’re doing here, Aurelia.

 Sokka asks what they should do if Azula tries to kill them, and Zuko says, “She’s crazy. And scared, and alone.” And on the one hand, that’s true, but on the other hand, he shouldn’t be infantilizing her.

 “‘Please just—remember that, if she does anything too desperate, or,’ he practically choked on his words, ‘says anything too desperate.’” This is a bad look for Zuko, since he is, essentially, trying to give himself a cushion against any accusations that Azula levels at him. He is trying to plant a seed of doubt so they’re less inclined to believe her about the rape. But I think that this will backfire on him, because he’s priming them to pay attention to what she says instead. The cold truth is, if he hadn’t done this, I don’t think they would have believed her. They’d think she was trying to slander him, because A.) They like and respect him and want to believe that he’s fully redeemed and would never do such a thing, B.) They believe that she’s a lying villain who wants to take him down, and C.) Many people don’t believe sexual assault victims anyway, regardless of the evidence they have to support their claims. But now he’s drawing arrows to her accusations, and a few of them will probably remember that, and how weird he was acting during this conversation. They’ll wonder why he said that they should dismiss what she says, which would have normally been a given for them.

 The conversation wraps up as the Gaang goes to their rooms, and Zuko and Iroh continue to talk offscreen. We shift over to Azula’s POV. She’s riding an ostrich horse past an abandoned mill. She’s being rather nasty to her mount, using her fire whip to make it do what she wants. It seems like she hasn’t grown out of being cruel to animals yet (though I just re-watched the introduction to June in ATLA, and she liberally uses her whip on her mount, so I’m not sure that this is an uncommon treatment of animals in this world, just distasteful).

 Azula didn’t stop to grab provisions, which is a surprising mistake, coming from her. Granted, she had to escape quickly in the last chapter, and was probably scattered from a fresh dose of trauma. She fantasizes about eating Rai’s potato and leek stew, rather than some of her favorite foods from the palace. To be fair, if that was my most recent, tasty meal, I’d probably be doing the same. But also, I think the kindness of that meal has probably gotten under Azula’s skin.

 “She had been discovered. She knew how that would end. So why did she stay? She had asked herself that a dozen times since the cook betrayed her, and now thought she knew. Not for Rai’s company, certainly. Azula ought to have her traitor’s tongue out just for the presumption she showed.”—Okay, Hot Stuff, have you ever actually ordered for someone to have their tongue taken out, or are you just repeating something nasty Ozai that threatened to do? Because I’m betting it’s the latter. Also, I bet you stayed because you liked being shown some basic human kindness.

 “No, worse still, it was to eat food that didn’t taste the same every day, and lay her head on a pillow at night, and take a bath—an actual bath—without unwelcome supervision…”—You mean the things that every human being should have? Especially the unsupervised baths part? I understand why Azula was watched, since she might have tried to hurt herself if she was left alone in the asylum, but still, that’s terrible.

 “If she let such base considerations drive her, she would be no better than her hedonist uncle. Far better she had been betrayed now and so incompetently, then continue that way. It was that kind of complacency that would get her captured, or killed.”—Oh good, you’re going to deny yourself basic human comforts to get the job done, that’s healthy for you, Azula. You want to know who I bet never did something remotely similar to that? Ozai. I bet he’s always slept with a pillow and always had a cook on hand and was always able to bath in private. Good lord, child.

 “Her father was counting on her. Her country was counting on her. She could not make these kind of mistakes.”—That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself, my dear. Sadly, I think that the Fire Nation might have forgotten about her, since no one tried to break her out.

 Azula unloads her mount of supplies and sends it running in another direction—with more fire whips, shame on her (though is she hurting it or just scaring it? That isn’t clear)—to leave a false trail for anyone who might be pursuing her. She then thinks, “It was too bad about losing the ostrich horse though, especially after Mother gave her so much grief—" So she’s still seeing Ursa. To be specific, Ursa was chiding her about stealing the ostrich horse. There are a couple of things of note about this. One is that Azula is committing the same crime that Zuko did in the show, and will probably get more flack for it. The other is that the voice of her mother, in this moment, seems to be her conscience—meaning that Azula feels guilty about stealing.

 “They never did anything for me either . . . So what do you imagine I owe them?”—Azula shuts down her guilt by saying something that sounds suspiciously like something Ozai would say. That because someone wasn’t kind to her, that gives her the right to be cruel to them. Which…really isn’t how you should treat people.

 “She didn’t talk to it. Wasn’t that her rule?”—Does that help you, Azula?

 “How could she expect to rule anyone when she couldn’t even rule herself….”—Another thing that I’m certain Ozai said to her at some point.

 “She had a mission. Everything else was immaterial. This was her one chance. No room for mistakes. No room for distractions. She had to focus. She had to get better. She would not be as effective as she could be, until she was whole again.”—Again, that’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself, Azula. Sadly, you might be right, though. The Earth Kingdom isn’t going to give you a second chance to find your mother. They don’t even want to give you this one.

 Azula then burns down the mill and escapes by boat, hopefully widening the distance between herself and those searching for her.

 Back to the Gaang! Toph and Aang are practicing earthbending, while Sokka preps the war balloon and inwardly gripes about them not helping. Aang and Katara are searching for Azula on Team Appa, while Suki, Sokka, and Toph are on Team War Balloon (which has been dyed black for the occasion).

 Sokka makes a basket case pun about the balloon as he and Suki argue over how he treated Zuko the previous day. Suki points out that he missed the fact that Mai left Zuko, which Katara is peeved about. Katara, you don’t know and don’t want to know the full story there, trust me. Suki agrees with me. Katara reveals that she tried to talk to Mai, which Suki is horrified about, because good lord is it none of Katara’s business. Tact does not run in this family.

 Zuko comes charging in, upset by this. Zuko and Katara argue, and Suki, hilariously, “looked to Sokka in clear disbelief that this much tactlessness could be contained in one family.” I knew that Suki and I were on the same page.

 “Since when does she need to cool off? She shows all the emotion of an ice cube.”—Hey, Katara? This is super rude. Just because you don’t like Mai and are lowkey jealous of her relationship with Zuko does not give you the right to insult her.

 “‘She had every reason!’ Zuko hotly defended, and implicated himself by saying so.”—Whoops, Zuko. Good job. “I brought you here to find my sister, not play marriage councilor! So why don’t you just stay out of problems that don’t concern you?”—Ho boy, so he shouldn’t have said this as hotly as he did, but he’s also not wrong? Focus on the problem that he’s asked for help with, Katara. His marital problems are none of your concern.

 Katara responds equally hotly to this, but she’s in the wrong here, even if it will probably take her some time to realize that. What she’s most upset about is Zuko acting like he summoned them to his side, rather than them coming because they’re friends, and like…I can see why that would be insulting, but you also just tried to interfere with his marriage, Katara. I think you messed up worse in this fight.

 Katara and Aang head out, or in Katara’s case, storms out. Team War Balloon leaves soon afterwards, with Sokka thinking that he’d rather deal with Flaky Aang over Angry Jerk any day, which is fair. Zuko and Katara were both poorly behaved here.

 “He guessed they’d all be happier once Azula was back in her straightjacket. But first he had to make it happen. Right. No problem.”—I doubt that you’re going to make it happen, Sokka, and I think that you doubt it too.

 And that’s the end of chapter eleven! Next up is chapter twelve, “The Seal,” which is my favorite chapter in this fic so far. I’m excited! As always, thank you for the read, Aurelia.

 Sincerely,

WiseAbsol    

[popculturebuffet]

Excalibur #1: “The Accolade of Betsy Braddock”

As the magic of Krakoa seeps into Otherworld and puts Morgan Le Fay in a genocidal mood, Betsy Braddock tries to find her place in the new world while also dealing with her idiot brother.. but you know instead of Paul Rudd she has a reality warping man child with mental instablity. Meanwhile Apocalypse adopts an unprouncable name and a new misson statment as a wizard man, Gambit suppresses the urge to kill him and Goldballs tries a new somehow even worse name out.

Welcome back. Due to yesterday being kinda nuts, and the last review being more taxing than planned, this one is kinda late. But better late than never as dawn of X continues it’s win streak with Excalibur, back and better than ever. And thankfully this time, the exposition is all really easy to bake in as we go compared to my last few reviews, so without any delay, it’s time to forge the sword once again. This is Tini Howard and Marcus To’s Excalibur.

We open on a long info page revealing that when Xavier gave his big “While you Slept the world changed” or, to put it more acuratley “All I wanted was to love you , to help you to save your asses and all you did was either try to kill us, look away while others did, or make a token effort at best to help. Fuck you, we’re taking what’s ours bitches. “ speech, Apocalypse gave his own, in a sense telling Humankind “Magic is ours to take back now.... “

We cut to the present where Morgan Le Fay is in Otherworld, basically the court of king arthur, the source of Captain Britan’s power, and a realm created by the british public’s collective subconscious. I don’t get it either. But Morgan Le Fay, Arthur’s evil sister and long time pain in the ass of the Avengers in the 616, has taken over in his absence and nearly drowns one of her minons upon finding something in her well.. a weed affecting it.. and since the x-men have a plant motif and apocalypse made a big MINE NOW speech to the rest of the world.. it’s easy to see Krakoa’s involved. Nice work Apocalypse, your on Krakoa one week and you’ve already pissed off the neighbors.

After the opening titles, we cut to Braddock Academy, basically the british version of Xavier’s and Avengers Academy and unsurprisingly a pet project of Brian’s. Since the school is also the Braddock ancestral home, Betsy’s been crashing here while sorting things out after getting her original body back. Yeah for those of you not that familiar with Psylocke, which I am not but know at least this much, was body swapped with the Assian Kwannon. That was reversed shortly before Dawn of X, which in order to help smooth the transition has given each their own starring roll. And really it is an intresting thing to explore: Betsy spent 5 or 6 years in a body that was not her own, living her life, loving, and doing bloody awful things in the name of the greater good. So it’s no suprise being put back in her old body after all this time and the implications of having basically lived her life in someoen elses skin with the other person now having it back and being understandably pissed about it, having only not gotten it back sooner due to dying of the Legacy Virus. Thankfully this issue dives deep into it and we’ll explore it more as we go.

The child loudly complaning is Margaret, Brian and Meggan’s daughter. Margret is one of the few things Mark Guggenheim’s run on X-Men did that was all that intresting as, probably thanks to a combination of her dad’s magical man juice and her mom’s already shifting genetics, can already talk in full sentences and comprehend stuff at the tender age of 1. Betsy is of course heading to Krakoa but much like Kitty last week, she’s unsure. But it still works: Kitty was unsure because Krakoa, for whatever reason, basically rejected her and staying would just make her a ghost again. For Betsy, she’s gone from living in a stranger’s body and back again and is understandably frazzled and unsure of tommorow.

But as Brian escorts her to the portal on his property, a touch I like as Meggan is a mutant herself and Brian is a longtime ally so it makes perfect sense to put a portal down there both for his mutant students to depart and for Meggan to visit without having to leave her husband behind, he encourages her. This is something I love about the issue: most x-runs I see betsy in kinda forget she has a brother and Uncanny X-Force turned him into an asshole. Here, their close bond and past, she was a supporting character in his book first after all, is shown beautifully as Brian , while happy to have her back, wants her to move on with her life and knows she’ll do great. 

As also seen above Betsy wishes their brother could join them though Brian isn’t so sure. I didn’t really get into Jamie in the other review, and i’m pleased as punch to get here there. Jamie is their older brother.. and also has schizophrenia and the power of god, two tastes that instead create a rancid punch that threatns all life as Jamie dosen’t think anything else is real. Despite this, Betsy wishes he’d be there to see it and hopes it’d make him better. After all if Apocalypse can find a new start here why not him? They literally have worse people on the island.

Speaking of the devil, after Betsy makes her awkward entrance, we cut to Apocalypse who’s of course standing out a window watching everything meancingly, because even when he’s on the good guy side and no longer plotting horribly Darwinian crimes.. he’s still a super villian deep down and old habits die hard. He’s visited by Trinary, a fairly new x-character introduced in X-Men Red, she’s a technopath, as well as one of the brain trust running Krakoa’s computer network. Also as you can see apocapse want’s to be called by his weird Krakoan name.. i’m just going to stick with Apocalypse as I assume it’s the same thing and even Tini Howard herself has flat out admitted she dosen’t have a translation for it and just scripts him as Apocalypse still. He also gets dagger eyes from everyone’s faviorite Cajun as he makes his villianous rant.

Remy does however have more reason than most to hate the man: He was one of Apocalypse’s horseman once: he attempted to go under cover, but underestimated how good the horseman process was and would up having to go to Mr.Sinister of all people to get himself back to normal. So yeah, having the guy who turned you into a monster that tried to kill your future wife, KINDA makes you not willing to have a ham sammich with the guy.  Trinary came to fetch Apocalypse to check out a new gate that opened.. to otherworld.. the problem is Morgan sealed it, and thus Apocalypse , not being a moron, decides they need “a champion” to break it. And since Hercules is on a three month no pants cruise of the bahamas right now, he’s going to have to be less literal about it.  Meanwhile MOrrigan is an asshole to a coven of sorcerers decreeing that they failed her by.. letting mutants exist. Yeah the one weakspot I have with the book thus far is the opening villianess: Morgan Le Fay simply isn’t that intresting and while she’s had a good storyline or too here she’s pissy because.. mutants found magic again. It isn’ t a terrible motive but her steroptical villaness “take my anger out out my minons” stuff is just tiresome and not at all entertaining. She’s the right level of threat for this book, just not fleshed out about enough and is the one real dry spot in this issue. 

Back on Krakoa, Betsy runs into Kwannon and it’s.. about as awkard as you’d expect as you can see.. and really isn’t helping Betsy’s unease. And I actually, despite not having read a ton of comics with Betsy in them get why she’s so uneasy besides the obvious problems of having the woman whose face you stole around all the time: she has no idea what to do. Everyone else on Krakoa, for the most part at least, is fully on board with the new plan, rairing to go. Sure some understandably object to their old foes being there… but theirs a sense of optimism and wonder and happy.. that just dosen’t go with someone who has so much blood on her hands she looks like she took a guys heart out with her bear hands, is in a body that hasn’t been home in years, and has to look the person who’s body she stole, intentional or not, and didn’t put any effort into bringing back from the dead or once she was back giving her her body back in the face. She’s just not in a great place. Thankfully even if her old pal Jubilee dosen’t pick up on this she does get Betsy could probably use some booze. Unfortunatley pressing matters keep her from finding out if krakoa can pour mimosa’s directily into her mouth via some kind of hose bush:

It’s your pal and mine goldballs, one of the five mutants able to raise the dead (but the car is fine). Or Egg I guess but I’m not calling him that. For one goldballs is a far better name just for the ridiculous factor. For another, just call yourself goldeggs. It’s still dumb but egg is somehow dumber. Even add a Z if you want no one cares. Your one of Krakoa’s own personal jesus’. You could rip a person’s throat out and no one would care… though granted that’s also because death is now meaningless for mutants. But yeah as you can see he has a problem and it’s Jamie.

And yup Jamie is back, alive and while not trying to kill everyone, is still kind of a weird asshole. Also I do not want to know what he did in there but I presume he fucked at least one person. Maybe he made them out of thin air, maybe they just came in. Maybe Sinister decided why not. Either way he’s fouling up the pods, and soon puts his foot in his mouth by saying Betsy’s classic look reminds him of better times right after their parents died. However in a nice little character bit he quickly apologizes, showing he has genuinely changed thanks to his resurrection on some level, and admits that the real reason is because they were all together then and all happy. As for why he’s a nusiance, it’s simple: while ressurectees DO need time to recover from you know, the whole being dead thing, it usually takes about ten minutes for the shock to wear off. And while there’s clearly no shock left Jamie is just farting around. Betsy’s response is to treat him like a ten year old. 

It..actually works.. but unfortunately Jamie has about as much intrest in seeing Brian as Brian does in seeing him. And I see why: before he went insane, Jamie was still a supervillian and still hunted brian out of jealousy, while Jamie.. is just kind of a dick. He’s like Krakoa’s own discord: he’s not an apocalyptic godlike threat to the world any more but he will fuck with you just for cheap laughs. Betsy tries using her telepathy to force him to go but Fabio stops her, as it upsets the eggs apparently and decides to drag Brian here, something even Jamie can see as a bad idea. And when the naked man whose been back for all of 5 minutes can see the holes in your plan, maybe you rethink things. But I also get why Betsy is trying so hard at this: She has almost no stablity left and Brian has been her rock, past and present. But Jamie is still her brother and now has the potetinal to do good and while still a loon, is no longer a genocidal madman and is stubbornly refusing to reconcile because he’s decided to swear off humanity. She just wants her family whole and her brothers not trying to kill each other, but is in too bad a state to recognize they need time and may NEVER get along. it’s how it is with family. Dosen’t mean she has to choose one or the other. Brian wouldn’t make her and frankly Jamie isn’t dumb enough to try that.  Thankfully apocalypse interupts Betsy’s extrodinarly bad plan to ask her about the gate.. and point out that Brian himself would be the best way and that, even as a half human, he’d be welcome here in this crisis. He probably get some leeway since apparently the captain britan thing makes him half otherworlder and he is a cosmic champion versus just some joe who wants to enjoy a paradise he hasn’t earned thorugh hard work or nearly dying a bunch. 

Betsy heads to Braddock Manor where Brian is already planning on going to Otherworld to fix this and is naturally not all that inclined to listen to Apocalypse. So as seen above Betsy goes with plan B: She’s going with him even if it’s a trap because fighting alongside her brother doing the right thing is better than moping around an island trying to dodge Kwannon. This also gives me a nice opprotunity to bring up Betsy’s approach to their former enemies. She’s far more accepting than the rest, even Logan outright objected, but I also easily get why: She’s former black ops, having served on one version of X-Force and lead the one right after it. She understands the need for pragmatism and is a pragmatic person. It’s probably why she’s so willing to forgive Jamie: yeah he did terrible things, but at his worst he was mentally ill, and as established by X-Men #1, Krakoa has terrific healthcare and telepaths and empaths to help him work through his issues. He may not WANT to of course, but he’s more likely to and him slowly improving in paradise is better than her brother just being dead to her as a genocidal mad man.  They encounter Morgan who, being basically a 50′s disney villian, expects Brian as otherworld’s champion to start drowning his own sister.. because fuck subtley. 

Back on Krakoa we meet up with Rouge and Gambit. As a tiny bit of exposition for you lapsed ex fans the two are now married. The two reconciled in the excellent Rouge and Gambit mini series, hashing out their long and messy history. Then X-Men gold happened.. see there was SUPPOSED to be a wedding of Colosus and Kitty.. but their reconcilation was so terribly forced no one wanted the wedding and editoral had gambit, of course, steal The Wedding. So the two are in a happy place, though Rouge dosen’t want to use her power dampener on paradise, understandable as said dampener is a repurposed anti-mutant thing and it’d be like brining a pile of nazi gold as your present to a jewish wedding. Rouge then decides , as shown above ot bring up the idea of having kids but before Gambit can say “of course”, Trinary summons them for apocalypse. Apocalypse needs Rouge as he figures her absoprtion power might allow her to serve as a gateway, and a way to retrieve Betsy. Remy, Understandably, dosen’t want her to do this But Rogue is willing to take the risk to save her friend. Remy , now tenativley on board, suggestings bringing in Jubes since she was the last one to talk to Betsy, but A-Train is way ahead of them. 

Naturally, having talked to her all of one sentence, she has nothing. Also curiously apparently Apocalypse wanted Jubes to bring her son, adopted if you didn’t knokw about him, Shogo with her but shockingly she didn’t want to bring her son to see the scary blue man who had no trouble trying to do a murder on a child when she was younger. However Apocalypse really needs her as a bridge between minds: Rouge will touch the portal to break through it and Gambit will keep watch and is all too happy to. As a side note i’d lvoe to see apocalypse babysit “So you see small infant, after that I cleaved the flesh off his skull and put said skull on a pile as a warning to my enimies. You always want to get the flesh nice and clean off.. .the bits create more of a smell and you need to think of the smell. Speaking of the smell I think someone needs a changie!” 

I would too, but i’m pretty sure Remy would be a ground smear, but I think Apocaypse does respect his willingess to try anyway even if he dosen’t take gambit serious as a threat. 

Back in crazy magic lady town Morgan is slowly corrupting Brian, and despite Betsy’s best attempts to stop it, is quickly turned into a warped dark knight who’s trying to shove the amulet of right in her face for some reason.

But with Apocalypse plan in motion, she figures out what’s going on and destroys the portal.. unfortuantley for Rogue this causes to feel weird and then well.. this is the end result.

What exactly the fuck dosen’t even begin to describe this.

Back in King Arthur’s House, Trinary’s words not mine, Betsy tries to kick Morgan’s ass but Dark Brian blocks her… before the above happens.. and it’s clear WHY he was cramming the amulet down her throat... Morrigan has full control of him, he can’t do anything to stop her.. but he can pass it on so she can hopefully stop her or , if he can’t be freed, destroy him before he harms anyone else. He sends her back to the real world as Betsy wails> This scene is damn powerful, as we’ve seen before Brian was one of the few people who understood she was going through some shit and offered her his full support... and now he’s gone, no idea how to rescue him, leaving a wife and daughter behind. 

Back on Krakoa things arne’t much better wirth Rouge int he flower cocoon I showed earlier and Gambit ready to blow Apocalypse’s head off.. and as you can see Apocalypse is like “Fine i’ll come  back from it stronger, but can you please wait? We’ve got a lot of shit going down. But before Apocalypse can pound Remy into a Cajun Corpse, the assembled group is distracted by a returning Betsy. 

And so we end on Betsy, now fully crowned once again as Captain Britain, wondering what the fuck is up with Rogue. We get a quick Epilogue where one of the covern from earlier joins a cult based on the same one related to apocayplypse and we’re out. ‘Final Thoughts: Excalibur #1 is a good start. While some things don’t quite gel, Otherworld isn’t explained at all for those who have never heard of it (raises hand), it feels fresh and makes me invested in Betsy’s struggle, the tragedy Brian goes through, Remy’s fury and Apocalypse, who for once gets to serve as a wise sage instead of a warrior and it’s an intresting role for him, as well as him clearly being set up to mentor Betsy as she rises higher than ever before with her new role. It makes you want to see what comes next and the only real drawback is that Jubilee is basically a tagalong while Rictor is entirely absent, but both I suspect will be fixed with time. As fhte first part of a story, and the first Dawn of X Comic to be part of an arc since the two mini series that launched it, it works well setting things up. As I said the comic suffers from a lack of exposition on Otherworld and from a weak villain, but it’s not enough to distract from this fun, well crafted fantasy and I can’t wait to see what comes next. Until next time, hail to the queen baby.  

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Hello, I'm new here! Was checking out your blog after seeing the melusine foul legacy post.

So... If it ain't a problem; Any melusine foul legacy headcanons?

Take your time!

Have a nice day :)

YES ABSOLUTELY. I LOVE THOSE LITTLE GUYS SO MUCH THEY'RE SO SWEET

~ * ~ Melusine Foul Legacy HCs

Foul Legacy x Reader (Platonic) Genre: Fluff Pronouns: Gender Neutral Warnings: Mentions of the ocean

~ * ~

-He’s just… a lil guy… lil Abyss sea slug creature… -(I know all Melusines are female but you know what I make the rules here) -Legacy’s a bit peculiar, even to his sisters- apart from identifying as male, his body is also more monstrous and off-putting than the other Melusines -He’s still absolutely adorable, just a liiiiittle less soft and a bit more armored, all purple and red and midnight black -Slightly taller than his sisters, and has a pair of horns instead of antennae -You know the little wings some Melusines have? His are glittery and translucent, shaped like moth’s wings -Still has mitten hands though and they’re the bane of his existence, since they make everything so difficult to hold -Can speak, but also tends to intersperse his words with trilling and chirp-like sounds -Foul Legacy lives in Merusea Village, specifically in a small alcove in the underwater part, away from the other Melusines -He has an odd and intense interest in fighting and battle, which is actually fitting because his special token is an old, rusted blade that was lodged in Elynas’ body -You meet him when he dares venture above ground so he can get the sword cleaned and repaired, shooing away some people who were trying to scam him and offering to take him to Beaumont Workshop instead, where you happen to work -Your boss Estelle is quite amused when you walk into work with a Melusine at your side, sheepishly explaining that you got held up by some ruffians. Foul Legacy hides behind you until you explain that Estelle is your friend, to which he slowly nods, handing you the blade -He stares as you work, polishing and sharpening his most prized possession until it practically gleams, chittering in awe when you finally hold it up, complete

-Legacy thanks you profusely when you hand him the cleaned blade, looking as if it hasn’t aged a day. He cradles it carefully, doing his very best to not drop it as he sticks out a mitten-like hand to shake- he heard from his sisters that humans consider a handshake to be polite!- and he beams when you take his hand and give it a firm but gentle shake -He abruptly asks you to come visit him in Merusea Village, maybe so you can teach him how to use his sword, but unfortunately your lack of a Vision means you can’t breathe in Fontaine’s waters :( -But that’s okay- he’ll just visit you instead! He insists on it, in fact. You’re his first human friend (his first friend in general, actually) and he’s fascinated by your behavior and talents involving weaponry -You really weren’t expecting much when you gave this odd, star-speckled Melusine your address, telling him to be careful as he ran off back to Elynas, his precious sword held high over his head. But there’s a soft knock on your door a few days later, and when you open it there Foul Legacy stands, proudly clutching his blade with his mitten hands -Your friendship quickly blossoms from there as you teach him how to properly wield a weapon and show him around the Court of Fontaine. Legacy is extremely eager to learn and is very curious about the world above the ground, and he often tells you about life in Merusea Village in return -He brings you various components he finds to ask you what they do- they help power those large metal creatures patrolling the city? What’re they called? Are they friendly or rude? Why do you need them in the first place? -You also get to meet some of his sisters! You’ve seen them walking around the Court before but never really had a chance to interact with them, and almost every time without fail they’ll tell Legacy to stay out of trouble and not get into any tussles, while simultaneously thanking you for befriending their brother

-Foul Legacy is a little lonely, really. He doesn’t feel particularly at home with the other Melusines, especially since his appearance and demeanor are so different, so he’s very grateful for your company -He does still live in Merusea but makes it a habit to come up and wander around the city in search of you, and if he spots you going about doing your daily chores, he’ll follow you until you notice him- Estelle often teases you about having a little Melusine shadow (he absolutely lights up when you do notice him and runs over to hug you) -Yes, he does have a tail, and yes, it does wag back and forth when he’s happy -Would die for headpats -You teach him to use various types of weapons- bows are still his weak point almost entirely due to his mitten-paw-hand things. But Legacy is one determined sea slug, so somehow he makes it work (you don’t know how, it baffles and impresses you at the same time) -He swears that he’ll protect you from anyone or anything that tries to hurt you. Not that he doesn’t think you can’t defend yourself! He just likes the feeling of camaraderie and like he’s making a difference in someone’s life -Occasionally Foul Legacy will draw you sketches of what Merusea Village looks like, pointing out where his house is in particular. If you ever happen to be blessed with a Vision he’ll immediately ask if you’d like to see his home, happily swinging your hand and skipping towards the ocean if you say yes -Overall he’s a little strange for a Melusine, but is still very friendly and an excellent companion. Good sea slug Legacy :)

[pug-bitch]

That’s not why I’m going (26)

Yass Kween, right?

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive, and a steamy scene. This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: around 4,900 (let me know if the ‘keep reading’ cutoff isn’t working well!)

Notes: This picks up pretty much where we left off, during first night in the cabin (yes I am taking my sweet time writing the happier parts, after everything our little guys have been through!), starting with Drake’s POV.

*****

Drake sighs wistfully. He can’t sleep, but not because he’s stressed out. On the contrary, he’s too blissful to sleep, and he didn’t even know that was an option. He looks at Amara, who is peacefully asleep next to him. They made love three times, once outside, and twice upstairs, in his bed. Suddenly, it dawns on Drake that he’d never had sex in this bed. Always at the palace. In fact, he’d never brought a woman back here. Too intimate. Now he’s grateful; it only makes this night more special. He pushes a strand of hair away from Amara’s face so he can see her better. He feels like a creep for a second, watching he sleep, but he just loves her face so much. And seeing her like this, relaxed and asleep, makes him feel at peace. No comparison with the nightmares she used to have. Or maybe still has, PTSD doesn’t go away like that. But at least it has calmed down.

Drake hopes her stress doesn’t come back running when they get back to court. He loves Portavira, even Penelope’s parents’ estate is quiet and beautiful, no frills. But he just wishes they could both stay here. Maybe they could, someday? It feels like such a pipe dream.

First, they have to get through the last week of the competition. Drake shudders, remembering the last competition, when Leo had to propose to Madeleine and then skipped town, wreaking havoc on everything. Would it be as bad this time? Probably. Ever since Drake was with Amara and had snapped at Liam several times, he had no idea what was going through his mind. No more late night chats, no more confidence. Did he miss it? Sure, but nothing he can do about it now. Liam had been a dick to Amara a few weeks ago, and even if he was a lot better, it still doesn’t excuse everything he’s said and done. Drake simply doesn’t know if he can just go back to normal. They would hopefully stay friends, if Drake and Amara played their cards right and announced their relationship in a timely manner. But best friends again? Probably not.

Drake feels a pang in his chest just thinking back on all the moments Liam had been there for him and vice versa.

No more, he thinks. This is not the time to turn this happy night into a stressful one. He’d deal with everything another day. Maybe it would be a catastrophe --probably would be-- but right now, all he wants to do is keep snuggling with Amara.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand. Shit, he thinks. Hopefully Amara doesn’t wake up. He grabs it and sees a text.

Amara is lovely, Drake. Well done. It was good talking to you today, you look happy. I love you.

His mom never said anything this nice, not anymore, not since Dad had passed and Sav had left, and Drake had closed himself up. He could tell how much his mom had taken to Amara. Of course she would, Amara is the Sun. Easy to talk to, smart, funny. Hauntingly beautiful. God, he loves her.

Insightful, too. She’d hit the nail on the head a couple months ago, when they had talked about Drake’s mom having remarried and how it had made him feel. He starts typing.

Love you too, Mom. Happy you like her. I like her too...a lot. Give my best to Barry.

His mom instantly replies, visibly excited given the speed at which she typed the second message.

Barry says hi too!!!!!!!!! We both want to see you soon!!!

So many exclamation points. Maybe because to this day, Drake had never acknowledged his stepdad via text, except for the odd text for birthdays.

He puts the phone down and starts closing his eyes, hoping to join Amara in slumber soon.

*****

‘You can’t sleep either?’ Maxwell whispers, approaching his brother in the family room.

‘Oh, Maxwell, you scared me,’ he says, startled.

‘Sorry,’ Max mutters, stifling a smile. His brother is wearing a burgundy satin robe, and matching slippers. He’s sitting on the couch, his back perfectly straight, his legs crossed in his tweed pyjama pants. As he sees Maxwell come in, Bertrand tightens the tie of his robe, and Maxwell realizes that there are gold tassels on each end of the rope. He chuckles on the inside, remembering the one time Amara had asked him if Bertrand sleeps in a Victorian nightgown. This is almost worse. All he’s missing is a pipe. And maybe 30 years added to his age.

‘Do you want to sit down with me?’ Bertrand asks. As Max sits, he wishes he could take a picture of the robe and slippers to send it to Amara.

‘Are you ok?’ Max asks, forcing himself to be serious again.

‘I’m fine,’ Bertrand smiles weakly. ‘Just...thinking, you know.’

Max nods. ‘I know. Me too. I’ve been thinking about Mom and Dad a lot, and… this explains many things.’

‘It does. I’m sorry for keeping this from you for so long, Maxxie.’

Tears threaten to fall from Maxwell’s eyes. Years since Bertrand had called him Maxxie. ‘It’s ok, I get it. You were doing this to honor Dad’s memory.’ What’s Max’s excuse for keeping the Bartie secret from Bertrand? He knows he promised Dramara to hold on until they find her and get her side of the story, but he longs to be close to his brother again. The secrets are driving an invisible wedge between them.

‘Still,’ Bertrand whispers. ‘I’m sorry, Maxxie. Can you forgive me?’

‘Of course. We’re brothers. The Beaumont Boys. Nothing can keep us apart!’

Bertrand chuckles. ‘We are not boys, Maxwell.’

Max eyes him from head to toe. ‘No doubt about that, given what you’re wearing.’

Bertrand dismisses him with a hand gesture. ‘Oh stop. How is Hana holding up? She seemed well at dinner.’

‘She’s fine. Brave. Relieved. Strong. All of those adjectives. I can’t wait til tomorrow when we get to go hang out at the Walkers’ cabin. You sure you don’t want to come?’

Bertrand shakes his head. ‘I can’t. I’m meeting with Liam, remember?’

Shit, Max thinks. He really isn’t being a considerate brother right now. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

‘No, there’s no need, really. I would like to see you for maybe an hour tomorrow morning before you head to Portavira though, to convene of a plan that I can relay to Liam. You know, weigh some options.’

‘Of course! We’ll get coffee and discuss it.’

‘Great. Also��� I think maybe we should both let Albert go, when all of this is said and done. Together, you know. To strengthen the Beaumont name and show that we are both proud of our father’s legacy.’

‘Yass Kween,’ Max says excitedly. He loves that Bertrand thinks of everything, from every angle.

Bertrand looks at him, confused. ‘Qu...queen? You mean Queen Regina?’

Max bursts out laughing. ‘No, Bertrand, it’s an expression! I’m just saying ‘Yass Kween’ to you, as in I love your idea.’

Bertrand squints. ‘So...I’m the queen in this scenario?’ He shakes his head. ‘I don’t get it, Maxxie.’

Max shrugs, grabs the remote, and fires up Netflix. ‘Oh well, since we’re both up, let’s just watch some Queer Eye, maybe then you’ll get it.’

*****

Liv wakes up in a sweat. She didn’t even realize that she had fallen asleep. She was awakened by a nightmare, the same recurring one for over twenty years: she’s a little girl, watching her parents disappear like holograms, unable to hold on to their hands.

She shakes her head and assesses her surroundings. Too much vodka last night.

She jumps at the sight of Rashad, sound asleep on her ottoman. So, they’d both passed out. Great.

She looks at the clock, it’s past 2am now. She gets up to pour herself a glass of water from the bathroom sink and shakes Rashad awake.

‘Wake up, Domvallier. We fell asleep.’

He jumps up, startled. ‘Huh?’

‘You’re on my ottoman. You should go.’

Rashad wipes his eyes, and slowly comes to. ‘Oh God, Liv, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to invade your space.’ He gets up hastily, and her heart sinks a bit. So, he did find her terrifying after all.

‘Hey, don’t worry, we just got too drunk and watched too many episodes.’

He starts washing his dirty glass and putting away the blanket he was using. Liv can’t believe he’s tidying up.

‘Leave it, I’ll do it. Thanks, though.’

He smiles and nods. ‘Thanks for the company, Nevrakis. It was a thousand times better than dinner would have been. Good night.’

Before she has time to respond, he’s out the door. She locks it behind him, gets out of her dress, and into bed. A strange feeling invades her. What is that? It feels warm, oddly normal and comforting. Like a blanket.

What the hell is she thinking? A fucking blanket? What happened, did this whole photo leak turn her into a pathetic mass of feelings? Stupid.

Regardless, she had a good night.

*****

Amara awakens to the sound of birds chirping at the window. She turns around, and sees Drake still spooning her, half asleep.

‘Morning, Suarez,’ he mutters, still sleepy.

‘Morning, Walker!’

She plants a kiss on his mouth, and he lingers a bit, kissing her deeper. God, she loves his kisses. He pulls her closer, their lips firmly tangled together, until she straddles him. She feels his cock between her legs, and she instantly feels herself get wetter and wetter. He smiles at her through their kiss, and lets out a soft moan as she rubs herself onto his hard cock. She wants to take her time, though. Thoroughly enjoy the morning with him. Feel his naked body against hers, truly feel him close.

They make love lazily, tenderly, for a long time. When they part, Amara nuzzles in Drake’s arms, comfortable and happy. ‘Can we stay here forever, please?’

Drake chuckles, kissing her head. ‘I wish, babe. Did you sleep well?’

‘Like a fucking baby. I even had nice dreams!’

He smiles at her, and she feels like her heart might explode. ‘You did? What did you dream of?’

‘Just some nice sceneries, some beaches, a quiet lakefront, and...you.’

He smiles again, a bright smile that shines on her like a Sun. ‘I’m glad you’re comfortable here.’

‘Oh, I am. So comfortable. Thanks for having me, Drake.’

He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘You don’t need to thank me. I can honestly say that I’ve never been happier.’

As if on purpose, Drake’s phone aggressively vibrates, and makes Amara jump with surprise.

Drake frowns and glances at it, with no visible plan to pick up. ‘It’s Liam,’ he says, his voice void of any enthusiasm.

‘Oh…’ Amara says, unable to say anything else.

‘I’m not picking up.’

She nods, silent. She almost says that he should, just so Liam doesn’t get suspicious. But right now, she doesn’t really care. ‘I’m excited to see the guys, but I’m gonna miss our alone time…’

Drake kisses her lips. ‘I am too… It’s been really nice to be away from the world. But I guess I--nevermind.’

She sits up, curious. ‘No no, tell me!’

Drake puts his head in his hands. ‘Ugh, I’m so lame. I was gonna say that I’m kind of excited about um…’ He pauses, and continues in a whisper. ‘Entertaining.’

Amara’s face lights up. She loves seeing him like this. He told her, weeks ago, that his dream was to open a small restaurant, and she can see why. He beams when he’s making his own food. And it doesn’t hurt that his cooking is absolutely delicious. She strokes his hair. ‘It’s not lame at all, it’s actually really sweet. And Drake?’

‘Hm?’

‘I love you.’

He pulls her closer, until her head rests against his chest again. ‘I love you too, Suarez. So fucking much.’

*****

Liam didn’t sleep at all. Well, maybe a little bit. Not much. He thought about what Madeleine had told him, and about his lack of agency in all that. About his father, who would probably not be around for much longer. About Amara, who didn’t reciprocate his feelings. About Olivia, who probably fucked her bodyguard to spite him. And about Drake, his best friend in the world, whom he really needed right now.

He waited until a decent time to call. A few weeks earlier, he wouldn’t have hesitated to call him at 4am if he needed to talk. But not now. Why, though? What happened to them that they didn’t even talk to each other anymore? Drake had been supportive enough, but probably just the bare minimum for someone who was like family. Liam missed him.

So, he called him as soon as it was appropriate. He figured, since he was at Ramsford, he was probably up early, what with Maxwell being a walking alarm clock.

But Drake hadn’t answered.

He tried again, several times, but no luck. He hesitated a bit, and after a quick look in his bathroom mirror, he realizes he cannot just stay with his own thoughts all day. He needs to be with his friends, even if only for a few hours. He needs to be at the Palace in the early afternoon for some meetings, including one with Bertrand, and at night he has a one-on-one with Kiara. But he has a couple of hours to kill.

He dials his phone.

‘Your Highness.’

Bastien always picks up right away. ‘Bastien, hello. Could you please take out the car? I need to go to Ramsford.’

*****

‘Do you think we need to bring her any nail polish?’

Maxwell was in charge of packing Amara’s suitcase, but Hana had insisted on helping him out. She responds right away, ‘Yes, I think so. What if hers is chipped? We did our nails together a couple of days ago already, so she may need some. Pack her light gray one, and also a bolder color. Oh, and her remover.’

Hana was carefully packing Amara’s dresses into a small suitcase. Enough formal wear for Penelope’s estate tomorrow and the day after, and some casual dresses, jeans, and a sweater for downtime. Heels, and her Steve Madden slip-ons. Hana was used to packing all the right things. She was used to doing all the right things.

She closes the suitcase, after Max hands her the toiletry bag that he has just made up. She sits on the bed, taking a breath to think about the amazing friendships she’s made here. She definitely does not want to go home, not anytime soon. Maybe she’s ready to come out to her parents, but she does not want to be under their control anymore. She wishes she could stay here, with the Beaumonts, or with Amara. But after the competition, there is something else she needs to do. If she doesn’t, she’ll have regrets for the rest of her life. She’ll gather all the strength she has, and go to London to see if she still has a chance, or if she truly messed up years ago.

She is drawn from her daydream by Max, who is gently tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. ‘What’s on your mind, baby girl?’

She smiles and shrugs. ‘Nothing much… I’m excited about tonight.’

Max beams. ‘Me too! You’ll see, the Walker cabin is beautiful, and so quiet, you will love it so much.’

She nods, ‘I can’t wait. I also really want to see Drake and Amara again. It’s weird without them.’

‘You mean Dramara?’

Hana laughs heartily, ‘If you say so!’

They both go back downstairs, where Bertrand awaits them for brunch. As they are all seated on the patio, digging into their frittatas, they see Liam’s towncar pull up. Hana’s heart jumps in her chest, and she looks over to Max, who looks agitated. Liam thinks Drake and Amara are here, what is he going to think when he sees that they are both gone?

Liam gets out of the car, and Hana cannot help but think that he looks terrible. Has he been sleeping? He certainly hasn’t been shaving today, or washing his hair.

‘Good morning, friends!’ he says as he approaches them. ‘Sorry for barging in, I was hoping I could see Drake.’

Maxwell regains his composure and responds, ‘Good morning Liam, please join us for brunch! Unfortunately Drake isn’t here, he had to go to his cabin to deal with something.’

Liam nods, but Hana can’t tell if he believed Max. ‘Oh ok, that would probably explain why he’s not answering his phone. I’d love to join for brunch, thank you Maxwell.’

He comes onto the patio and takes a seat at the table. Max gets up to fetch him a plate. The Beaumonts had dismissed their staff for a few days after they realized that one of their employees must have taken Liv’s phone. They were planning to question them as soon as possible, and in the meantime, they were getting by without help. Bertrand’s frittata was surprisingly good, though.

When Max comes back with Liam’s plate, they all bid each other bon appétit and start eating again. Liam, visibly surprised, asks, ‘Oh, aren’t we waiting for Amara?’

Oh God, Hana thinks. She has to think on her feet, think of something, anything.

As she’s about to open her mouth and improvise, Bertrand chimes in, sounding incredibly natural. ‘Lady Amara is in her bedroom, she has a migraine. She asked not to be disturbed, she needs to be in complete darkness.’

Damn, Bertrand, Hana thinks. How did he think on his feet so fast?

‘Goodness,’ Liam says, visibly convinced. ‘That’s too bad, poor Amara. Well, I’ll see her in Portavira tomorrow I hope.’

Bertrand flashes a bright smile. ‘I sure hope so! Those intense migraines ought to go away after a day, I’m sure.’

They finish their brunch all the while making small talk, all carefully avoiding the main topics at court. No one is even remotely mentioning Olivia or Madeleine or anything like that. Just pleasant, completely phony conversation.

As Liam gets ready to leave, Hana offers to accompany him to his car, which he gladly accepts. Once they are alone, she asks him, ‘Liam, are you ok?’

He chuckles, ‘I look like shit, don’t I?’

Hana is surprised to hear him curse. He’s always seen him very prim and proper, except when he was propositioning Amara. This time, it’s different. He really doesn’t look well. Still, she lies, ‘No, you look great! You just seem… preoccupied.’

He sighs and looks her in the eye. ‘I have no idea what I’m going to do, Hana. Truly no idea.’

Hana squeezes his arm and says, ‘If you need to talk about it, maybe you and I could grab coffee in Portavira tomorrow? Just a friend date, so you can put all your thoughts out there.’

He smiles, ‘I’d like that very much.’

Once Liam gone, she heads back inside, where the Beaumonts are finishing up their coffee in silence. She can tell that Max is dying to ask Bertrand about his lie, but is containing himself. Still, Hana wants to know. She needs to be bolder, just like she has been recently. So, she asks, ‘Bertrand, can I ask you something?’

He takes one last sip of his coffee and says matter-of-factly, ‘I had to make something up. I couldn’t let Liam get suspicious.’

Hana’s jaw drops. ‘What--what do you mean?’

Bertrand smiles faintly. ‘I’m not blind, Hana. I see what’s going on. I just don’t think Liam needs to know right now.’

Max’s eyes are the size of cantaloupes. ‘What do you mean you know what’s going on?’

‘Come on, Maxxie. Drake and Amara. It’s obvious.’

Max shakes his head and asks hesitantly, ‘You’re--you’re not mad?’

Bertrand snorts, ‘Oh dear, do you really see me as a grumpy old man who can’t rejoice for two people in love?’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Plus, with all the crap that’s raining on us right now, it’s nice that at least two of us are happy. Yass Kween, right Max?’

*****

‘Drake, can you come here?’

Drake is setting up their lunch table in the backyard, when Amara calls him from the kitchen. ‘Coming!’ he says.

‘I can’t find the baking powder, could you point me to it?’

He smiles, and digs deep in the cupboard where the baking powder is behind a bunch of cans. ‘Here you go, babe. How’s the batter going?’

She smiles excitedly. ‘Great! I cut the pineapple in little pieces, and plus I found some coconut shavings in your pantry, so I’m adding that to the cake.’

He chuckles as he sees that her face is covered with flour. She must not be very gentle when mixing her batter. ‘Where’s your phone? I gotta take a picture of your face right now, it’s priceless!’

‘Oh come on,’ she says, attemting to wipe her face. ‘It’s over there, if you insist on making fun of me.’

He picks up her phone, and notices the multiple missed calls. ‘Um, Amara? Did you see this?’

‘Hm?’ she asks absentmindedly, adding the baking powder to her mixing bowl.

He shows her her phone. ‘Michael. He called you eight times, just today, and it’s only like 6am in New York.’

He hates himself right away for bringing it up, when he sees the cloud loom over her eyes. ‘I know. I’m just not ready to talk to him.’

Drake nods. ‘I get it. He texted you, too, you don’t want to at least read what he wrote?’

‘No,’ she says curtly. ‘I know he’s going to apologize, that’s what my dad said. I don’t want to hear it now, I don’t want to think about it. I’ll deal with it another time.’ She pauses. ‘I know what it must look like.’

He closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around her. ‘It looks like you’re hurting and I want to help you get better, because I love you.’

She nods, obviously fighting back tears. ‘I love you too. I appreciate you wanting to help me…’

‘Hey, you’re helping me find my sister. we have each other’s backs, ok?’

‘Fair. But the situation with your sister is promising. It holds hope. My situation with Michael is fucked. He will never see me as his sister ever again. I’ll always be the person who failed his entire family.’

Drake holds her tighter. ‘I hope you know that it’s not true. Remember what your father said. Forgive yourself.’

She nods and offers a faint smile. ‘I’m trying, Drake. I really, really am. But for right now, I think the best way for me to do that is to keep some distance between me and Michael. It hurts us both too much. Hopefully someday…’

She trails off, plants a kiss on Drake’s lips, and continues mixing her batter. Drake watches her intently, his heart aching for her. He wants to take away the pain. But really, he’s probably making it worse, comparing her situation to his own with Sav. Sav is alive, and Drake will, hopefully, see his little sister soon.

Amara will never see her brother again.

But Drake can’t help but think about what she had told him about her bond with Michael. That they used to be like siblings. He hopes that, one day, she finds this bond again.

‘Do you want a beer with lunch?’ he asks, trying to lighten the mood.

Without looking up from her mixing bowl, which should be completely mixed by now, she says ‘Sure, if you’re having one.’

*****

Amara doesn’t want to ruin the moment. No, on the contrary, these moments spent with Drake in the cabin are so special, so happy, that she wants nothing more than to enjoy them. But she has a lump in her throat now, that she can’t swallow just yet. Not Drake’s fault, not at all. He doesn’t understand completely, how could he? He’s lost people he loved, of course, but not by his own fault. Not in circumstances that he could have avoided.

He understands her well otherwise. She’s never had a connection like this one in her life, not ever. She knows what he’s trying to do, too. He wants her to reconnect with Michael and find the sibling connection that they lost along with Sergio. But she knows that she can’t force that. They both need the space, even if Michael isn’t aware of it right now.

She wonders for a second if something is truly wrong, and if she should in fact call him back, or at least read his texts before deleting them. She shakes her head. No, if anything was wrong, Dad would call. Amara had answered every single text from her dad and Nancy during her time in Cordonia. After her dad’s heart attack, she never took a chance with a missed call.

Once the cake is in the oven, she sets the times --that damn cockblocking timer-- and joins Drake outside. When she sees his face, she realizes right away that he feels bad for insisting earlier. Her heart melts a bit. She’s been too harsh, too radical with him. He just wants her to be happy.

She softens and smiles, kissing his cheek before sitting at the table.

‘You ok?’ he asks.

‘Yeah. Sorry about earlier. I get why you said all that, and I love that you want the best for me. Thank you.’

He smiles, visibly more relaxed, and kisses her hand. He holds on to it for a while.

*****

Madeleine checks her phone for an answer from the middleman. Finally, her screen lights up.

It is booked. Arrival Friday morning.

She suppresses a smile. Her idea was retained. She knows they have something else in store for her, something big and public apparently, but she thinks they need more ammo for this bitch. Something more personal. Something to break her.

Oh well, they’ll see on Friday.

For now, she needs to make nice with the others. She puts on her best fake smile, and heads to Kiara’s room, who she knows is getting ready for a one-on-one with Liam in a few hours.

‘Knock knock!’ Madeleine says out loud.

‘Entrez!’ she hears Kiara reply.

Ugh, she thinks. Why is this bitch constantly speaking French? Madeleine had always thought that French was a language for whores and peasants. But she has to keep that smile on. She can’t make all enemies. ‘Hi, Kiara,’ she says. ‘Want some company?’

Kiara is sitting at her vanity and she is putting on makeup. ‘Oui, avec plaisir!’

Madeleine comes in and closes the door behind her. ‘So, are you ready for the big date?’

‘Oh I definitely am,’ Kiara purrs. Madeleine can’t believe that Kiara has a date with Liam before her, but oh well. Soon enough, everything will be under control.

‘Do you know where he is taking you?’

‘I think he wants to go get a drink and take a stroll through the Capital. It should be fun!’

Madeleine nods, keeping up appearances. She and Kiara were close, once. When they were younger and probably more naive, full of dreams and hope. Before Leo fucked it all up and made Madeleine have to go get things on her own instead of simply sitting back and relaxing. Back when Kiara wanted to bone Walker, and marry a diplomat. And now that stupid bitch thinks she has a shot at being an actual Queen? Ha! If she could, Madeleine would laugh.

Madeleine responds, ‘Yes, you will have fun, I have no doubt. Now, is that what you’re wearing?’

*****

‘Babe, look at my cake! I think I didn’t fuck it up!’

Drake looks over his shoulder while he’s doing the dishes. ‘Wow, that cake looks fucking delicious. Well done!’

Amara beams. The cook of the house, complimenting her cake? She definitely is a decent baker, but it’s been a while since she has baked something, unless you count that apple pie competition at Applewood Manor, or as Drake refers to it, the ‘apple shit’.

She used to bake with her mom, back in the day, but of course she would only do the mixing and the bowl licking, and none of the oven business, she was too little for that.

‘Alright,’ she says, ‘now i’m gonna make a pitcher of margarita.’ As Drake opens his mouth to say something, she pursues, ‘Or maybe two. Two, right? It’s Max and Liv we’re talking about.’

‘My thoughts exactly,’ Drake chuckles.

Before getting started on the lime juice and tequila, she goes over to Drake and hugs him. ‘I’m so happy to be here with you.’

‘I’m happy too, babe. It feels right to have you here.’

As if on cue, there is a knock on the door. Amara can already hear Max and Hana joke around on the other side of the door. She kisses Drake’s cheek and goes over to open.

‘It’s us, bitches!’ Maxwell yells. ‘And we brought Olivia!’

*****

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[youngster-monster]

Aloth didn’t expect to find himself back in Defiance Bay so soon, but the city is like a whirlpool, impossible to escape on your way from one side of the Dyrwood to the other. He usually does his best to not overstay his welcome: fifteen years have not yet managed to erase the chaos Waidwen’s Legacy wracked on the city, and the fall of the Wheel has not helped the situation.

But, if not monitored, the city’s conflicts might fester into the kind of instability where the Leaden Key would thrive, and it has become Aloth’s life work to avoid just that. So he found some kind of compromise between his duty and his personal reluctance in the form of a large network of spies and informants. They send him updates on a monthly basis, describing in excruciating detail the political and social happenings of the largest city in the Dyrwood. The heavily encrypted letters are usually as long as a small novel and take him sometimes an entire day just to skim through, which he takes as a collective effort from his contacts to make his life a living Hel.

Or maybe it’s an underhanded way to force him to come see things for himself, if a deeply unsuccessful one: each unnecessarily wordy missive about trade agreements going awry only adds to his reasons to never step foot in the city himself.

But Anathema, his contact inside the rebuilt Sanitarium, has sent him an uncharacteristically terse letter. Its content could be boiled down to ‘newcomer animancer is likely to be a member of the Leaden Key’, without much more context or details. He took it as the urgent warning it is and immediately packed his bag and set for Defiance Bay.

Most cities in the Dyrwood and Deadfire Archipelago make him feel nostalgic, but none evokes such a gnawing sense of longing for the past as the Dyrwoodan capital. They’ve spent weeks here, running around as Renard—

Well. As he did what he did best: tried to save the world, one person at a time, and ended up falling into schemes of increasing scale and importance as a result.

He hasn’t seen his friend (yar sweetheart, lad, Iselmyr corrects, but he steadfastly ignores her) since they parted ways in the Deadfire, Aloth chasing after the Leaden Key and Renard setting sail for gods-know-where. Not a whisper of his name in a decade was odd for such an infamous and influential man, and he still occasionally worried that his friend had found his end while stumbling into another plot to end the world. But he always refused to dwell on the possibility. Renard had survived worse: neither a two thousand year old evil mastermind nor death nor a literal god could stop him, so it’s more likely he went hiding into the most remote place of Eora, hoping to escape the expectations people always seem to put on him.

And anyway his duty is too important for him to be distracted by thoughts of the man he loved (still love, his own treacherous mind says, Iselmyr cackling in the distance). It was important enough then for him to let go—

It still is, he assures himself, forcing doubts and regrets down to focus on the task at end. No point in dwelling on what could have been.

-

Because Anathema is a cruel, cruel orlan who loves to have company in her misery, she makes him go down into the catacombs and has the audacity to arrive an hour late.

Aloth doesn’t have many good experiences with catacombs, tunnels, sewers and other underground labyrinth. Especially not those catacombs. And sure, there are fewer cultists and necromancers this time around, but it’s still as cramped and utterly disgusting as ever — he knows, by experience, that he’ll be better off burning those clothes than trying to get the foul smell out of them.

Going by previous reports, this is where she spends most of her time, using the expensive network of tunnels and sewers to go around the city, but that’s not an excuse for insisting this be their meeting place. There are many dark alleys and dirty inns on the surface, where no one asks question and there aren’t skeletons slowly decaying into dust just feet away. Knowing her, the real reason is that she wants to get revenge for the mandatory monthly report so much that she’d subject herself to this place just so he has to be here too.

It’s not even a meeting, really: Anathema is notorious for disliking kith contact, hence why he believes she might actually have chosen to live in the catacombs. Instead she makes him wait for almost an hour in what used to be the necromancer’s hideout, drops a pile of loose sheets of paper in his arms and disappear the way she came, leaving no trace of her passage as she slips back into the shadows.

He stands there for a moment, clutching the pages against his chest, before Iselmyr takes the helm and lets out an impressive string of curse. He swears he hears her laugh somewhere down the dark passages. Once Iselmyr lets him have the control of his body back he stuffs the stack of paper in his bag and strides off, quietly fuming.

It’s when he reaches Copperlane that he realizes he doesn’t actually know where he’s staying the night. He’s not overly fond of taverns: he’s broken into enough of them to know exactly what their security standards are. But it’s not like he has anywhere else to stay. At this point he would even be glad for a break-in: he feels like burning something, and a robber might do the trick.

After quick deliberations he makes his way toward Ondra’s Gift. The district has made an art out of minding your own business, and its criminality rate is high enough that shady characters such as him — working against the Leaden Key gave him reflexes and habits rarely seen in good upstanding members of society and Iselmyr really doesn’t help him stay inconspicuous — slip right out of people’s minds as long as they don’t start shit. It’s enough advantages that he’s ready to put up with the brothel for one night.

He pushes the door of The Salty Mast and is immediately assaulted by the warm air, smelling like incense, cheap ale and sweat. It’s summer, but the air inside is still hotter than the already sweltering heat outside, and Aloth briefly reconsiders his decision. He could walk to The Goose and Fox before nightfall and get a bed there, or just a spot in their backroom if all the rooms are already taken. It wouldn’t be that much effort. But he’s been on the road for a week straight, he’s dirty and tired, and unlike most other taverns The Salty Mast doesn’t make you pay extra for a bath.

Inhaling one last breath of fresh air, Aloth steps into the brothel.

Maea is still there, nodding in his direction when she notices him, but she’s older. Wearier, like most inhabitants of the city are, nowadays. She doesn’t recognize him, of course: fifteen years is a long time, and he was only a face in the crowd even then. Renard she could recognize. His face is hard to forget.

He pays for a room and drags himself to the most isolated table he finds, keeping his back to the wall and his traits hidden under the shadow of his hood. He would look out of place in most brothels, but Defiance Bay’s standards are… lower than most, and the presence of so many mercenaries and adventurers in the city means there are far shadier people than a simple hooded traveler seeking a meal and company. Such as the group of armed kiths on the other side of the main room, laughing uproariously as they  drink. They alone look boisterous and dangerous enough that all attention is kept well away from Aloth.

It’s not the best of situations, but it’s good enough that he feels safe dumping his newly-acquired reading material on the table to flip through it while he eats through the last of his food supplies. He rarely risks the food in public places: it is frighteningly easy to poison someone, and people will do anything for a handful of coins.

The stack turns out to be quite tidy, separate into smaller stacks attached together with pieces of strings. The first one is the report he originally expected from Anathema this month. It’s boring and predictable enough that he allows himself to skim it without paying too much attention to it. He knows that the matter must be urgent or she wouldn’t have called him there, but at the moment he is by far too tired to read anything important and still and remember it clearly tomorrow.

Still, it’s work, and by trying to commit the details to memory he ends up falling into the half-dozing tunnel vision he often experiences when he’s trying to work through his exhaustion. He’s so engrossed in his attempt at understanding — it doesn’t help that Anathema’s handwriting is as illegible as ever — that he actually jumps when a hand slams on his table.

He looks up sharply, glaring at the interloper who happens to be one of the adventurer he saw earlier. The man is easily a good head taller than him, with a heavy plate armor that just screams ‘I was kicked out of the Crucible Knights and they preferred to let me keep the armor than touch something that I wore on my body for more than a day’, which is a worryingly common archetype for mercenaries in the city. The Knights’ standards are higher nowadays than they used to be, at least hygiene-wise.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he says, probably going for a seductive purr and only sounding like a deranged crow cursed with speech. “You come here often?”

“No.”

“Really? Shame. What if I gave you a good reason to come back, hm?”

“I highly doubt your ability to do that,” Aloth replies, rolls his eyes and looks back to his reports, already dismissing the man. He clicks his tongue in annoyance when he notices the hand still resting upon the pile of paper.

His annoyance turns to anger when his other hand comes to rest on his cheek, the press of cold metal forcing him to raise his face toward the stranger again. “Come on, sugar, that’s rude.”

Aloth can feel Iselmyr clawing at his mind, rising to the surface in her urge to make him swallow back his words with a well-placed fireball — she’s been getting the hang of his magic lately. He doesn’t fight her, letting go of the control of his body altogether.

She shrugs his body on like a coat, settling into limbs so familiar yet so different, throwing their shoulders back and making sure to look the strangers in the eyes as she glares. He chuckles, delighted.

“Feisty, aren’t you?” He gets even closer to them. His breath stinks of the place’s cheap ale, and if it were Aloth in control, he would probably gag at the sensation of it brushing against his skin. “I like that.”

“I’d have a goat’s jig with a pig before I looked at yer stick, ye wagtail toss pot!”

And then she spits on his face.

Aloth has a brief moment of clarity as she withdraws in which he suddenly remembers why he usually never let Iselmyr do the talking when he’s not actively looking for a fight.

“Why, you little bitch—” The mercenary’s hand lets go of his face, for which he’s glad until he sees him raises it in a fist that is, without a doubt, about to collide with his face.

That’s when he’s struck with probably the strongest sense of déjà-vu he’s ever felt. He’s tired and dirty, present here only because of his work concerning the Leaden Key, and Iselmyr’s foul mouth and hot temper just got him into a fight he’s unlikely to get out of unhurt. It’s Gilded Vale all over again. Although this time, Renard won’t be coming to his rescue—

A hand wraps itself around the mercenary’s wrist. The man tugs, frowning, but his expression turns into bewilderment when, instead of freeing his hand, he is sent stumbling backward. The movement reveals the disheveled figure of another man holding him back, traits hard to distinguish in the shadows of the poorly-lit tavern. The mercenary’s face twists in a pained grimace as the grip on his wrist tightens and the newcomer leans toward him, muttering, “Cut it out, asshole, or I’m going to cut you.”

The words are slightly slurred, the tone similar to that of a drunk throwing exaggerated threats around to start a brawl, but the glint of a knife close to the mercenary’s navel suggests this man is being perfectly serious.

The first man wrenches his hand free and stalks out without a word, although he can be heard swearing under his breath. He sulks back to his table where his companions welcome him with mocking laughter.

Aloth turns to his impromptu savior, thanks on the tip of his tongue, but freezes before he can speak. His movements have brought the man back into the flickering light of the dim lantern resting on the table, and it takes Aloth a long moment to first recognize his face and then to realize he is not dreaming.

“Renard?”

Renard blinks, distracted from glaring at the retreating mercenary’s back, and looks down at him. “Huh. Knew I recognized that voice.” Something odd passes over his face — a flash of conflicting emotions in his eyes before they darken into a sort of resignation — and he lets himself drop into the neared chair, sprawling over the table. With one hand he gestures to Maea for a drink. “Didn’t ‘xpect t’see you here.”

“It has been quite some time, yes,” Aloth replies, unsure what else to say to a man he professed his love to before disappearing for ten years.

He should have sent a letter.

They don’t look at each other and stay in that awkward silence until Maea drops two full tankards in front of them, glancing meaningfully to Aloth. He’ll need it. To Renard, she says, “You’re not on shift tonight.”

Renard salutes her with his newly-acquired drink. “I’m here for your delightful company, of course,” he says, remarkably articulated for someone who looks and smells like he’s been sleeping in a brewery for the last decade. He takes a gulp of the shitty ale without the slightest reaction at the foul taste. “Sure as hell ain’t the quality of the drinks bringing me back.”

She whacks him on the head. “If you wanted better alcohol you’d do a better job.”

He grumbles and waves her away, so she whacks him a second time for good measure before striding off to her next client.

Turns out silence is just as awkward with drinks, at least to Aloth. Renard seems content enough drinking the swill they dare to call ale, but Aloth barely sips it in the hope of diminishing the aftertaste while he stares at his old friend in open curiosity.

He’s— changed. He thought the same when they met again in the wake of Eothas’ destructive journey through the Deadfire, but he sees now that the five years after confronting Thaos were nothing next to the change a decade in the chaos of post-Wheel Eora put Renard through. He looked tired then, mere hours after watching a god bring the cycle of reincarnation to its end, and the dark circles have only gotten worse since then, as if he didn’t get a single night of sleep in the decade they spent apart.

His knuckles are still bloody like he’s been in a fight recently and his swollen eye and the rest of the bruises and scrapes on his face are half-covered by the limp strands of his hair that aren’t caught in a sloppy ponytail. He is nothing like the Renard who never got into a fight if he could avoid it, the one who spent hours washing the blood and salt out of his hair and styling it. There’s still dirt or dried blood stuck under his bitten-short nails.

“What happened to you?” He finally says, aghast.

Renard lifts his head just enough to reveal a wry grin. “Ten years is a long time.”

[missoneminute]

Thanks to the anon who sent in this translation of this French interview. I have cleaned it up a little and you can read below the cut. 

Antoine asks if after spending a lot of time in France and recording his album in France, he must speak French. Peter answers yes, after spending 6 years in Melun, he speaks French (he uses the words 'screwdriver' and 'Asterix' and no one understands why) and says that French is the second language of pop. Antoine asked what pop culture is for him.

Peter's answer: Some think that pop culture was invented to be successful for commercial purposes, and this is not really the case. It's a question of appreciation, the idea is that the pop culture must be able to fit in your pocket and be disposable.

Then Charline quotes some excerpts from his songs, and says he's a genius. If it's not embarrassing to be called a "genius."

Peter answers: It's a pretty nice change because usually I'm treated to other names. Someone shouted out the window at me earlier when I was getting in the taxi, “Fuck off you bender”. So genius balances things. 

Then Antoine says they had asked Peter to name a book , a film, a music and a cult series, but he did not answer, so they chose instead. They Oscar Wilde’s The portrait of Dorian Gray. Peter will read an excerpt. Peter says he loves this book because it's scary, because when you live alone in the countryside at 16 or 17, the idea of being 40 is pretty scary, but it has a comic side. As we get older, we go from 17 to 20, 25 years old, it's less and less funny. It's a beautiful book, but a horror story. A horror? He answers, "No, it's pretty nice."

For the film, Antoine chose Confessions of a Child of the Century. Antoine asks if it is true that he knew the scenario [plot] by heart one year before appearing in the film.

Peter replies, Yes, that's right, it was part of the contract. They were worried about whether I could be sure if I was going to be punctual. In fact I did not miss a single day of filming. It is difficult to find a good translation of Alfred de Musset because it was not correctly understood in England. I first read it in French, but at the time I did not know how to read French, so I carried the book upside down.

Antoine chose a 2nd film, Mum I Missed the Plane, but Peter talks about the movie, The Devil Probably, which he thought was great. She then said that I missed the plane is a pop culture classic. Her mother forbade her to go see this movie because she thought it was a satanic movie.

For the series, Antoine chose, Hancock.

Peter says it's a great choice, at the time it was probably the most popular show for music.

Antoine chose David Bowie.

Peter: For me he’s a God, and in 100 years we will still consider them living gods. He was an incredible man.

Antoine: You just celebrated your 40th birthday, I'm curious to know how you celebrate?

Peter: It was very quiet, I did not do anything excessive. [Here he says he did get a bit wild the night before his birthday]. I just wanted to have a little fun with my friends. [He then says if he had a party, it would be a costume party]. In my life, there are all kinds of people who hate each other, so if you arrive costumed, nobody recognizes you it's convenient. So I got this idea. My old friend Carl came to see me, and he sang happy birthday on the piano.

Antoine asks how Peter was disguised at this costume ball.

Peter answers: I was dressed like Carl!

Antoine then talks about the new album and asks what Puta Madres means

Peter: Motherfucker!

They recorded with cameras, microphones, live. Antoine asks if  Étretat inspired the album.

Peter: I have two dogs, one husky and one Malamute. And my dogs are free, they can walk in the village, even the police help them to walk freely. It's the only place in the world where you can have two crazy dogs and leave them free.

Charline: Is it true that you play pétanque when you are in France?

Peter: Yes, and to Margate too. In Étretat the pétanque is very serious. One day I had to go play with someone at 5 am. I arrived a little late, and he hasn’t spoken to me since. He says that I am not a serious man because I don’t carry a knife and I’m late for petanque.

When Antoine asks if he "pulls or he points", Peter replies that he does not pull anymore, he smokes it. (Antoine asks not to translate).

Antoine asks what France has in particular to attract so many British musicians.

Peter: In Étretat a guy wandered with his guitar, nobody knows what he's doing, where he comes from, and Étretat has welcomed him. He is staying with someone, he does some gardening and plays of his guitar. It is this way of welcoming these musical refugees, it is the music and also the wine ... it is the wind of the freedom which blows in the heart of the French. He then explains that he composes in calm and solitude. He then speaks of the Bataclan, that it is peculiar to play there, that it is emotionally heavy. Charline asks him what else he could have done as a trade.  

 Peter: Soldier, bartender, every easily could have been dead. Or a very unsuccessful criminal would have been my fate if I had not taken up guitar. I had some good ideas on it but I cannot tell you here

Charline: And hotelier?

Peter: Is this a criminal activity? Given the price in some hotels, we can ask the question, it's true.  

Charline: A new Libertines album is planned for 2020, is that the case?

Peter: Damn we better get working. Yeah we have a studio now, The Libertines, and I’ve been living there. I sacrificed my French dream to keep an eye on things in Margate as caretaker, and now they’ve asked me to move out. And very soon The libertines will be the proprietors of a seaside hotel in Marhate. And Carl Barat has a liquor license, he’s got a sign up in the window and everything. He will be able to sell alcohol between 11am, and 2 in the afternoon I think. And we have a bar that Carl’s called… what’s it called. Peter wants to share the name of the bar, which was named by Carl, but does not remember it. He says that the owner of the Melun house is suing him.

And about the breakfast challenge he managed to eat, he says it's gotten more publicity than all his albums. he says that a guy called, Tiny, a huge guy of nearly 200kg had trouble finishing the breakfast.

He says there was a horrible picture of him after he had finished this breakfast, a photo taken by the cook watching him eat, and this photo became viral.

Charline: What would the 40-year-old Peter say if he met Peter at the beginning of Libertines?

Peter: He would say who the fuck are you? He would say hello, smile sweetly, and they’d walk off hand in hand into the sunset, finally found a friend.

Antoine: What would you like us to say about your musical heritage?

Peter: I would like people to say something about my musical legacy. If people are talking about musical legacy, it means I have one.

 About the hotel:

Peter: We are going to have cocktails, shows, burlesque, a piano in a corner. That’s heaven to me on the Normandy coast listening to an audio book by Arsène Lupin, thinking about my musical heritage, switching from radio to station to station.

Back to Brexit, how do you live it?

Peter: It was colder last week than this week, but the foul beast has not yet returned yet. In fact, we do not know how it will be. What I want is to move freely in Europe and all over the world, I love it. Spanish, French, Welsh, English band members. It could be the end for the Puta Madres.

He then plays a song.

[ain-t-bovvered]

Serendipity 13

RE-POST  EDITED: @waywardbaby

A/N 1: so I’m slowly getting back in the writing thing, I first need to finish to re-post this act so I don’t get overwhelmed by the others too. Bear with me while I finish this I NEED to get this done, then I’ll get back at the others.

Pairing : Dean X Reader

Characters : Dean , Sam , Castiel and Jack

Warnings : slow burn guys…slow burn . Also some fluff, humor,feels and angst.

a/n : this was my first ever spn writing. It started as a one shot and I couldn’t put it down to rest and kept writing and writing. Don’t know what else to write honestly….this is my first born and I love it, I hope you do too.

summary: You were minding your own business at work, in your little town.Your world was small and uneventful, work,studying,gym,netflix, a devastating heartbreak, the need to travel, the craving of freedom, adventure…just something different. You just knew you needed more .

Suddenly an American green eyed stranger walks in and, like someone heard your prayer ,your life won’t be the same.

Masterlist : Serendipity

catch up! : Part 1   Part 2   Part 3    Part 4    Part 5   Part 6   Part7  Part8   Part 9 Part10  Part11  Part12

You didn’t sleep. Not that you thought you could, so nothing surprising there. That has been unbelievably pathetic and sad.

How in the hell were you supposed to go and meet them this morning? You groaned knocking your head on the bus’s window, too tired to drive. Almost missing your stop, you pushed people out of your way and managed to get off just in time.

It was a sunny day again but you couldn’t enjoy it. Your mood was foul, because of lack of sleep, too many people around and a massive awkward time awaiting. So if the sun was out and singing you couldn’t care less. From across the street, you saw them waiting. Sam massaging his temples and Dean faking reading the bulletin board.

“Ok, you can do it. There are monsters in this world, you fought a ghost and met a witch. You can definitely face one Dean Winchester”.

Balancing your journal and your trustful gigantic thermos full of hot coffee and milk, you took a deep breath and crossed the street.

“Hi guys!” you chirped behind them. They both spun around startled. Nope, one Dean Winchester was much more intimidating.

“Y/N, morning,” Sam said weakly.

“Oh wow! Sam, you look ….awful. I brought you coffee. You’ll thank me later”

Dean stayed silent but nodded at you, hands in his pockets.

You nodded back and said nothing.

Yeah!

What possessed you to think you could face one Dean Winchester looking like that.

Sam stared at both of you frowning. “Alright I’m too hangover for this” he sighed. “Shall we?” he motioned you to go ahead.

Once inside, Sam looked like a child in a candy store. You laughed tiredly and turned to Dean to make a joke but it died in your throat. He had stayed behind peering outside a window with a bored look on his face. Sam called after you, shifting your attention to him, and you didn’t see Dean’s gaze fixing on you.

“We should ask for this book, this one, that one and that one too…also ask if they have some of these documents and these records”. Sam gave you a long list of names for the assistant, who after reading it frowned. You laughed it off nervously, scurrying to the table where Sam was slumped on the chair, head leaning over his arm. How bad must he be feeling right now?  

You took out three mugs out of the bag you had brought from home and started to fill them. The aroma filling your nose and slowly, very slowly, Sam’s head lifted as the fumes called to him. Plopping down on your seat, you let the smell lull you, giving you life again. With your eyes closed, you enjoyed the first sip, leaning your head back letting out a long groan of relief as the coffee already worked its magic. Coming back from your little moment of ecstasy, your eyes met Dean’s. He was looking at you longingly, and as he crossed your eyes he instantly looked elsewhere. Sam was again caught between this exchange and eye-rolled grabbed his mug taking a sip.

“This is great,” he said smiling contently, deciding that it was too early for all that.

“Y/N, here’s your books, and I found some of those records you asked. Anyway what kind of exam are you preparing?” The library clerk stopped by your table unloading the pile of dusty books. You paused, your brain panicking. “Uh... I’m writing a paper on how some old Italian families are connected to esoterism”

“Oh ok,...weird...but okay. Well, enjoy” he nodded at them.  “Just remember to write the time you finish. Here are the gloves”

“Thanks”

You were nose deep in books and papers for hours, while Sam looked more and more like a human again, avidly asking you to translate phrases, helping you with some of the Latin and filling other blanks in your journal.

Dean…

Dean was gone. He had announced after the first half-hour that he was going to stretch his legs and breathe some real, fresh air before, ‘we could pass him the nerdiness’ he had said. Every now and then, your eyes would search for him.

“Don’t worry. He’s always like this”

“I’m afraid it’s because of me“

He snorted.  

“I really don’t think so”

Sam watched you nibbling your lips and sighed,’ these two idiots’ he though. “Here, the sooner we finish the sooner we’ll join him”.

“And that should cover most of everything. I’ll let Castiel fill you in on the angel parts”

“But he’s not here. How can I ask him if he’s coming to pick you up tomorrow?”

“You can pray to him and if he’s free he’ll come”

“…texting is so 2018”

Sam chuckled while scrolling through papers and documents. You saw him freeze and he quickly got up and walked to the window. Narrowing his eyes he brought a yellowed page closer to his face.

“What is it?” you asked on your tippy-toes, trying to see. He smiled and turned the document to you, “I don’t see it”, you frowned scanning the document.

Lifting a gloved finger he pointed to the corner of the page.

“Look closely”. Squinting behind your glasses, you looked where he was pointing. In the top, right corner was a faded sigil.

“That’s not a hunter’s sign,” you said confused.

“No, but it’s a Men of Letters’ one. This proves there is a branch here too. There are a few names listed here. We can trace their legacies and hopefully, we’ll find their locations. This way …”

“-this way I’ll have someone to contact” you whispered.

This was exciting. Your heartbeat faster and you looked at Sam, eyes glistening feeling like you had actually found something to look forward to.

In the next hour you discovered there were still some families left, but if they were active or not was your job to find out on your own.

You and Sam were still discussing the best approach while exiting the library that you almost passed by Dean who was waiting for you, leaning with a bored look against the wall.

“Dude, where have you been?”

“Took a stroll in the castle and since I was there I searched for ghost activity, just in case.” His eyes shifted on you and said: “Guess what?” He wiggled the EMF device, grinning satisfied, “ No more ghosts”.

“Nice” you smiled back, and then your tummy protested and Dean’s one followed.  You both looked down.

“Nice to see you two getting along again” Sam chuckled.

“So guys, when are you going to call Cass?”

You had suggested having lunch where you worked since you had tonight’s shift so starting early in order to gain some extra cash seemed like a good idea.

“First thing in the morning should be fine. We can use these few hours as a vacation. I don’t remember the last time we did this, Dean?”

“There was that time we went to that lake, that lasted what? Maybe less than a week? I don’t know”

Sam scoffed “Oh yeah! Hadn't you just come back from the dead?”

“Yeah. Which time was it?”

“Ah, no! Right!  I think I had just cured you from being a demon”

“And some monsters had busted your arm”

“I swear you guys make the weirdest conversations” you interrupted, shaking your head.  “Here we are. It is warm enough to sit out. Is that ok?”

Just as you started to sit down two arms grabbed you from behind and a high pitched shrill drilled into your ear as Sam tensed and Dean stood up alarmed.

“Y/N!”

Your friend squealed again in your ear “You're still alive? How did that night go? You didn’t text me back”

“Hey” you said, disentangling yourself from her tight embrace. “Sorry, I forgot.  I’ve been busy “

Her smile widened dangerously, “Oh, I bet you were”. She lowered her voice a bit.  “Sooo, was he that good to you?”

You blushed and looked briefly at Dean who luckily didn’t understand a thing but wore a curious expression and your blushing got redder. Her eyes followed yours and she gasped.

“Is that …?” she looked at you again, “Oh my god he was! Right? Oh my god! What the hell? He’s hot! And...”, her eyes shifted to Sam, “Who is the exquisite giant?”

“This is Dean and Sam Winchester”

You said in English so as to include them. “Guys, this is Y F /N, my friend.”

She pushed you aside, scrambling to shake their hands taking particular interest in Sam who, by now, just wanted his hand back as she leaned into Dean.

“So... Dean…I hope you gave my girl a good time”. She elbowed him and winked. He looked at her confused and then slowly smiled smugly as his eyes settled on your panicked face. “She needed it so bad, like, I think she hasn’t seen a d-”

“Y/ F/N!”, you yelled in panic, dragging her away from Dean. “What the hell?! Nothing happened!!”

“Oh. Well maybe I coul-“

“Shut up...” you snatched the menus from her hands, “...and come back in a few minutes for our orders”

You turned to the boys embarrassed, Sam chuckling and Dean casually looking anywhere but you.

“..um, sorry about that…”  mumbling with your face hidden by the menu.

“That was amazing, I’m gonna miss this when we go back to our normal fast food diet” you watched as Sam patted his tummy satisfied.

“Hey!! I cook for you!” Dean said as he was still stuffing his face.

“No, please!! I can’t eat anymore” Sam whined as he saw your friend coming back with more plates.

“Don’t be rude Sammy” Dean said with his mouth full.

“Sam, please.  I’m gonna treat you for helping me and as a goodbye gift”

“Is that pie?” Dean’s eyes sparkled pushing to the side what was left of his meal as Y/F/N put the plate in front of him. “Oh, hell yeah!”

“This is our region traditional pie. You all like chocolate, I hope?” The pie had a crunchy chocolate and almond bottom and the filling was chocolate biscuit soaked in coffee and light mascarpone cream. All of this covered with a thin sheet of dark chocolate flakes.

“You better order some more if you want to eat too because he’s gonna eat it all by himself,” Sam warned eyeing his brother who was cutting a thin slice, pushing it to Sam and diving into what was left, not even caring that his mouth was covered in chocolate.

“This is awesome” he said mouth full. “Sorry. You wanted a slice too?” and by the look on his face you could tell he didn’t really mean it.

“I’m good”, you chuckled, tapping your fingernail on the small cup of coffee.

“Y/N we should get the check “

“Nonsense! My treat. You spent the morning babysitting me”, you hushed Sam, looking at your watch.

“Well, this is it! I’m gonna stay here and start my shift earlier. I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your ‘vacation’”, you said tying the maroon apron around your waist.

“We could come for a drink later,” Dean said, “if you want, that is.” You couldn’t help the wide smile that spread on your face. You really were not ready to say goodbye.

“Yeah…I’d love that, we’d love that”

“Yes please do! I need something nice to look at!” your friend shouted from behind the counter as you walked them to the door.

You watched their backs as they walked away. Dean glanced back and you smiled brightly waving. He smiled back too and all seemed to be back to normal…Well, at least close to how normal these last few days had been.

Y /F/N hugged you from behind, her chin laying on the top of your head.

“Damn Y/N” she said dreamily and clearly watching their asses by the way you felt her head tilting to the side. “Where did you find them?”

You both signed.

She grabbed your shoulder and spun you around to face her.

“…what the hell is wrong with you? What did not happened with Mr Freckles?”

“…I don’t know! I froze and he only tried to take my hand.” You smiled, bitterly, shrugging. “I’m hopeless. I guess I’m still hung up on...well you know...“

“Yeah, yeah I know and the fact that you can’t even say his name is a clear sign”. Now her face was serious. “How can you still be? It’s been months!”

“After almost 7 years, I’m sorry if there’s no switch off button”, your voice broke.

“Yeah, but you are so hung up on someone that never existed anyway. He just played the part and you were too blind to see it-”.

You avoided her gaze. You knew she was right. You had said those things to yourself too.

“-and you are also doing nothing about it!” She grabbed your face.

“I know it’s hard but, you need to start living again”, her eyes softened, “he sure as hell has. You are so stuck in this hole you dug yourself and I don’t want you to suffocate in it, losing whatever chance on happiness comes your way because you are stuck down there.” Tears pricked at your eyes and you felt a lump in your throat. She hugged you tightly and whispered in your ear “I care for you too much to let you do that to yourself; you deserve the world that he wouldn’t give you. So snap the fuck out of it ”

“Okay!”, you smiled weakly.

“Promise me”, she said grabbing your shoulders and shaking you hard.

You laughed, cried, and sniffled… whatever.

“I promise!”

“Good! Now, tell me, is Sam single?”

You pushed her away laughing and went inside.

“Hey bitch! I’m serious!”.

It was the middle of a busy shift and you both were juggling around the tables, not a moment to catch your breaths when out of the corner of your eyes you saw the Winchesters coming in. They certainly stood out of the classic crowd, tall and burly, wrapped in plaid and leather. They radiated that foreign aura everywhere they went. Sam and his impressive height and long hair, Dean with his bowlegs and striking green eyes.

Yep!

The Winchesters were a rare sight and probably the most exciting thing that had happened to your sleepy town during that time of year. As you waved back at them you couldn’t help but catch some curious and envious stares from some of the customers and the brothers chuckled as you almost crashed into a chair on your way to meet them at the counter. Embarrassed, you indicated the bar stools, the only seats available.

“Hey guys! Sorry busy night, it’s going to quiet down soon”

“No problem” Sam smiled at you.

“What can I get you?”

“Beer’s fine for now”. Your heart leaped in your throat at the sight of Dean, looking as gorgeous as ever. You on the other hand probably looked like a mess, sweaty and flushed, apron covered in stains, part of your shirt wet with beer that had spilled over you and pretty sure your braid hang sad and disheveled on your shoulder.

“Coming right up”

Later you were able to spend some moments chatting with them when you heard the door opening again. Before you could turn to greet the new customers, Y/ F /N stopped you.

“Eer, don’t worry about that Y/N. I got it.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. You already have too many orders to serve”

“No I-”

You didn’t let her finish and walked away grabbing the menus.

“Oh, shit!” Dean heard Y/F/N say.

“What is it?” he asked.

“The ones that came in….Y/N‘s ex is one of them”

“Oh…”, they both mouthed.

“No, no this is bad. It’s her first time seeing him after..” she scratched her head “…after a year. Fuck!” she began panicking “I shouldn’t have let her go”

“Hey guys, you already know what you want or should I leave th-“

“Y/N”

You froze.

Shit.

“...Hey” you managed to say. You felt your entire ex-group of friends’ eyes on you.

“…w-what do you all want to order?”

You took their drink orders mechanically and turned around but he grabbed your wrist preventing you from getting away. At that moment, you crossed eyes with Dean sitting at the bar.

Dean watched how she stiffened. Even from behind, he could tell she was uncomfortable and her body screamed that she wanted to run. She still took their orders, but when she turned to walk away, the bloke grabbed her wrist blocking her as she turned around and locked eyes with him.

She was livid, her bottom lip trembled and her eyes were hollow. He wanted nothing but to go there, twist his hand and set her free, but before he could do anything, he saw her closing her eyes, taking a big breath and turning around.

“Why doesn’t he let her go? “ Dean growled feeling uneasy at the whole thing happening before them.

“I don’t know, they look like they are talking”

“Does she look to you like she wants to talk to him?” Sam asked worriedly.

“..No! I don’t know what to do. I can’t go there and pull her away in front of everyone.  Her boss is here. She’ll hate me”

Dean watched as she squirmed under his grip again, more fervently and then she flinched in pain.

“HEY WE’RE DRY OVER HERE!!” he shouted. He saw her pulling free and running to them.

He barely had time to look at her expression. She looked like a hunted animal, but before he could say or do anything, she hurried past him and disappeared in the back room. He got ready to follow her but Y/F/N stopped him.

“Give her time. She doesn’t want to be seen like that, trust me”

Dean sat back slowly, him and Sam sharing a worried look.

“Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip”, you were pacing in the middle of the storage room, your chest felt tight and tears threatened to spill. Sighing, you leaned against the cold wall and threw your head back hoping the gravity would stop the tears that were threatening to spill. When the buzzing in your head stopped, you smacked your cheeks with both hands and took a long shaky breath.

“Ok girl, you got this!” You walked out and met the others.

“Hey, you ok? I’m sorry! I should have gone instead of you”

“please. This is my job. Besides, it would have happened eventually, right? We live in the same city”. She gave you a quick hug and resumed her work not before throwing another worried look in your direction. You walked behind the counter, stopping in front of the boys. You quickly glanced at them and smiling weakly, you grabbed the first bottle within reach, poured a generous amount of whatever that was and gulped it all down.

You grimaced and shivered, “That was disgusting….ok,” you slapped both hands on the counter, “So, where were we?”

“Err…Y/N you want…to talk about it?” Sam began.

You laughed.  “Nope”.

Sam scoffed peering at Dean, who responded with a mouthed ‘what?’.

“So, how was the rest of your day?” you continued rubbing your wrist without thinking.  Dean’s eyes did not miss it.

After talking with them you started to relax. They told you about the Men of Letters and the bunker that they call home and you finally got to ask about Jack after you had insisted.

“He sounds….nice,” you said not entirely convinced. He was still the son of Satan.

“Apparently the Antichrist likes nougat,” Dean said sipping from his bottle.

“Y/N …”

Your face fell…apparently, the boy can’t take a hint. Sam and Dean turned to the source of the voice.

You acknowledged him, “The bill?”

“Ah…yes, thanks”.

You moved to the cash register. Dean watched how you rubbed your hand on your jeans before grabbing the piece of paper with shaky hands.

“ 40 in total, cash or card?”

Dean did not understand what were you saying but your voice was steady and flat as you gave him his card back.

“Thank you and goodnight,” you said glad that this was over.

“Wait Y/N!”

“NO!!” you snapped, few heads turned your way, “no” you repeated, lower between your teeth.

“I don’t understand, I did nothing for you to be this angry”

You stared at him. You knew he was genuinely confused like he had always been. Never did anything, nothing was ever his fault; the others can’t understand, all the bad in the world was on his shoulders.

“Exactly. You did absolutely nothing”

You peered at Dean who sat closer to where you were, eyes darting between you two, evaluating the situation. “Listen, this is unnecessary…just go please”.

“God!! You haven't changed a bit”, he scoffed unpleasantly. That blow landed perfectly and suddenly it was hard to breathe and your face was hot.

“Is there a problem here, pal?” both your head and his snapped up to Dean who had turned around in his seat.

”Dean it’s ok –”

“No it’s not. I don’t understand what he is saying, but I can tell it’s making you uncomfortable, so…,” he snarled back looking at him, tilting his head, smiling coldly. “What’s up, big guy?”

He looked at Dean and then at you sneering.  

“Oh I see!” he leaned closer over the countertop.

“Is this how you get off? You must be thrilled. Tell me. Do you speak in English when you get f-“

“Hey!” Dean grabbed his upper arm stopping him from leaning further into you. Sam startled, stood up too putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“You paid, time to go buddy!”

He tried to unsuccessfully wriggle out of  Dean’s grip.

“Tell your lap dog to keep his hands off me”.

You put a hand on his arm. “It’s ok Dean. He’s going, right?”

Dean’s grip softened.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going”

He snatched his arm back, massaging it and walked away. He stopped at the door.  “I’m sorry”, he said looking at you.

“No…No you are not. You've never been sorry in your whole life”, you smiled sadly and his face fell.

“Y/N…” you heard Dean’s voice close, but your eyes were glued to the now closed door. He put a hand on your shoulder and you jumped, startled.

“Y-yes?”

“You okay?” he asked, peering at your face.

“Yeah”

That sounded weak. You cleared your voice.  

“Yeah, I’m fine”

He kept staring at you, lifted his hand to cup your face, his thumb wiping the wetness under your eye. “Then why are you crying?”

“What? I- I’m not” you backed away and touched your cheeks. You were indeed crying. Your face was wet and the tears wouldn’t stop. You maniacally wiped them with your sleeve. “I’m…I’m sorry I don’t know why…I’m sorry”. You ran past him and out the door, Dean calling after you.

He easily found you later, sitting nearby on the edge of the marble fountain facing the old church.

“Can I?”, he asked and you shrugged. He sat beside you, his warmth radiating and you suddenly felt very cold.

“So…uhm…the ex”

“Yep”

“Yeah, break ups, uh?” he bumped his shoulder into yours. “Tough sons of bitches, am I right?” he chuckled nervously.

“I wouldn’t know. This is my first”

“Oh!” his brows shot up.

“Yeah. Maybe, that’s why it’s so hard now. Maybe the next won’t hurt this much”

He signed loudly “...not sure about that kid, they all suck in their own way”

“Awesome!” you saw his hands fidget and you smiled bumping into him too.

“It’s okay. I’m okay...In fact, I think that was the closure I needed “

“What?”, his grin returning, “No car windows smashing, trash his house, poop mails?”

“Nah, I don’t need that and he doesn’t deserve it, really” He really didn’t. You rubbed your wrist again, lost in thoughts.

“Does it hurt?” He said reaching towards you but stopping. Instead, put his hand on his knee.

You peeked at his face as he was awkwardly watching some of the few people walking by and then your eyes fell to his hand. You stroked the crystal that was now constantly around your neck and holding your breath you reached and intertwined your fingers with his.

@curly-haired-disaster @time-travel-bouqet    @dean-winchesters-bacon     @babyimp1967      @wingedcatninja      @imma-winchester-addict       @ravenangel33     @maimalfoi      @purpleskiesandcherrypies        @marilynnlew       @mariekoukie6661    @wayward-and-worn       @thewinchestertales    @raelady1184       @mah1c       @spnskinnyballs      @starfirerules       @missjenniferb       @hunterswearingplaid       @sculptorofbeginnings      @younoeatcheeseyounobefat       @theangelwinchester       @missihart23       @weathergirl83       @ravenhg      @soloarcana       @itsstillnotwhatyouthink       @sexykitten253       @ackleholicwinchester       @clarinette07      @biawol       @snffbeebee       @daskleinevolk       @demonic-impala        @icequeen6666      @hobby27         @sandlee44       @formulafun    @linki-locks11      @tw1721boobear      @thatsnotwhoifuckingam      @thisismysecrethappyplace      @katiecurls75       @bcfangirlthatswhy    @flipperjanga11    @srsllydunnodoncare   @katriel-tumbles   @henrietteoaks   

[earthlostgirl]

This is the first fic that I write in English, so if you see any type of error, do not hesitate to say it so that I can correct myself. I hope you like it ! Thanks for reading me.

April, 1636. Port Tortuga .

"Captain, Captain!" shouted someone on the other side of the door knocking hard on the wood. "We should be sailing in a couple of hours."

"Damn it, Breda, here's a man trying to sleep," he grunted in a bad mood.

Twenty minutes later and with his characteristic calm he left his cabin, adjusting his belt from which all his weapons hung, behind him two beautiful girls who laughed and whispered to each other. Their colourful dresses stood out from the sobriety of the rest of the crew. Roy said goodbye to the girls when they got off the boat and turned with a huge smile on his face to look at his team. His right hand was carefully checking the boxes on deck. She wore her long blond hair tied up in a messy bun and when she moved her bracelets and beads tinkled, making a soft sound of tiny bells. Her white shirt drew her curves and she seemed to shine under the sun of the southern seas.

"Petty Officer Swallow, how's the cargo going?" "All right, sir," she muttered without looking up from the papers.

"Is anything missing?" he insisted, smiling trying to get her to look at him.

"Yes, sir, a lot of things," she snorted in a bad mood giving the documents to the red-haired sailor who had woken him up.

"All right gentlemen, we've got work to do, let's go everybody," he said in a loud voice, gesturing exaggeratedly with his arms. "If we manage to load the boat, we will spend the night in Tortuga."

Queen Elizabeth was rocking in the calm waters of the free port of Tortuga. It wasn't a very big ship. It was barely twelve meters long and was old; it had hundreds of repairs, but it was fast and was good for smuggling and pillaging, which in the end was the most important thing. A bunch of children, the street rats of the island were loading the illegal rum onto the ship. For a handful of coins, anyone was willing to work no matter how hard it was. Captain Mustang, hands on his waist, gazed proudly at his beloved ship.

"Isn't it a bit brazen of you to name your ship after a queen whom you plunder every chance you get?" said a voice full of arrogance behind Roy.

"I am the captain of the ship and give it whatever name I want," he replied irritably as he recognized that voice.

"Be thankful that you are in Tortuga, otherwise I would stop you right now for insulting the crown, Captain Mustang."

"You should be thankful that you are in Tortuga, otherwise I would put my sword through you right now, Commodore Fox."

"Has this stupid egos fight ended, Sir? We still have to finish loading the ship," Riza snorted as she stood beside him as she guided one of the children down the catwalk.

"Yes, petty officer" he turned to look at her, smiling, but she didn't smile back.

He snorted in annoyance and last looked at the stupid officer of the royal army who kept smiling arrogantly as he walked away from the port.

It was noon and Mustang, along with several members of his crew, was on his way to "Sweet Kattalin", one of the port's canteens. It was always crowded, since they have the best lamb stew on this side of the ocean. They sat at one of the tables, starving to death, shouting at the waitresses, acting as if they were in their own house.

"Get your dirty boots off my table, Mustang," the owner of the place grunted." Did you grow up in a pigsty?"

"Catalina, my love" interrupted Havok, taking her by the waist."I missed you tonight."

"You just miss something to put your hands on, you scoundrel, water rat," she snorted away from him. "Wipe that rogue smile off your face, pirate, I'm not going to fall for your cheap tricks."

"That's why I like you so much, Catalina, that mouth of yours..." he smiled brazenly and threw a kiss as he sat on the bench.

The owner of the place was a brunette with wild and curly hair, generous curves and ravishing smile, any man would fight in mourning for looking at her cleavage. She was cynical and foul-mouthed, and capable of putting up a good fight. He liked her, but above all she was a good friend of his petty officer. Catalina had a strange hobby; she collected "wanted" posters of all the villains, delinquents and other thugs who walked through Tortuga. Decorated the walls of the canteen and every time someone was on the wall for the first time, they had to pay for everyone's drinks.

"Why am I"Baby face Mustang"?" he asked looking at his poster whit a sulking sign. " It's stupid."

"Because you are incapable of growing a decent beard, sir," Breda joked, unbuttoning his pants, ready to have a great feast.

"Why is Havoc" Pretty face, Havoc?" Roy insisted, folding his arms across his chest.

"Because I have it, boss," he replied, scratching his blonde beard.

After the delicious food and paying for the part of the sailors who had stayed on the ship, they returned to port. There they spent the afternoon finalizing the preparations for departure, delaying until the next morning the time to go to sea. When night fell, and this time with all his crew, they left Queen Elizabeth to enjoy the crazy nights of Tortuga. Walking through its crowded streets where all kinds of crooks and bad people gathered.

"I have things to do," said Riza disappearing into one of the dark alleys without giving him time to say anything. A tall sailor, with black hair tied up in a ponytail and ears full of earrings, stood beside him and cleared his throat in an exaggerated manner.

"May I speak freely, Captain?" he asked mockingly.

"Hughes, please, put the formalities in your ass..."he said, circling his eyes, but without taking his sight away from the alley through which she vanished.

"What have you done now?"

"I haven't done anything," he turned his head to look at his friend.

"I don't think our beloved boatswain thinks so," Maes smiled and softly elbowed his ribs.

"She wants to go by the Arrow, but we are unready to go after Bradley," he explained shaking his head.

"You always say the same thing... What's your excuse now?"

"A small ship, inexperienced crew, she and I grew up on a pirate ship, but now half of the boys are inexperienced criminals or fishermen bored of working, dry feet, immature... They are unprepared for such a business..."

"Then you'll find another excuse. I know you do it by the map, Roy, I'm not an idiot, nor is she, she's not a lady in distress, she's a pirate. Besides Elisabeth Hawkeye is dead to everyone, nobody is looking for her."

"I will not risk her life for a stupid ship or a stupid treasure."

"Which are important to her, are her inheritance, her legacy and you are denying her the right to claim them."

"Whose side are you on, Maes?"

"On the side of justice, adventure and greed my dear say there are more than ten thousand gold coins in Hawkeye Treasure and precious stones the size of your head."

"They also say he had a daughter with a mermaid..."

"Who knows? Riza is the best swimmer in the crew."

"Shut up, Hughes, lets drink before those river rats end up with all the rum."

And they drank to the point of exhaustion.

He was drunk, very drunk, like the rest of his men crawling around the ship, he wasn't sure how he got there. Riza threw him on the bed. He extended his arms, trying to look as seductive as possible, without achieving it at all, Riza muttered something between her teeth and leaned on the bed to be able to remove his boots. Then she grabbed him by the flaps of his jacket to incorporate him.

"I like you to undress me," he whispered as she took off his jacket and threw it to the floor.

"Well, I hate it when you're this drunk," she said, pulling his belt from which hunged a musket, foil and a dagger.

"I love you so much," he whispered, running one hand around her waist so that she would sit next to him.

"I know..." she answered, unlacing the handkerchief on his head.

"Are you still mad at me?" he asked, holding her face in his hand.

"Yes," she answered in a whisper letting the heat of his hand warm her cheek.

"You know, this morning's girls were Cats, they fought with Mama and needed a place to spend the night... they were not... they... I actually slept on that couch over there " he reluctantly pointed to a leather armchair.

"I know, I was myself a Midnight Mama's girl once, I can recognize my own sisters," she smiled unbuttoning his shirt, taking her time to enjoy the touch of his skin.

"I just wanted to make you jealous."

"I know that too..." carefully caressed his scarred chest and smiled sweetly.

"It didn't work, did it?" He asked with a small drop of hope in his voice.

"No," she replied, nodding her head solemnly, causing a necklace to come out of her chest.

Roy smiled as he saw the little heart hanging from her neck and touched it with his fingers.

"Sleep with me," he begged, playing with the little piece of gold between his fingers.

"No, I'm still angry," she replied, moving away from him.

"Are you going to abandon your captain in this pitiful state?"

"Yes," she smiled, leaning over him and kissing his lips. " I don't sleep with drunken men."

"I know... Unless you're drunk too," he got up with agility, despite his terrible drunkenness and grabbed her by the butt, smiling like a fool. Riza also smiled, kissed him and quickly pulled away, leaving his beloved captain seated, eyes closed, waiting for another kiss.

"It's bedtime, Captain Mustang," she replied, pushing him onto the bed again, trying to look serious.

"I love you."

"You already told me that."

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