#y'all seem to like em and its a chill way to pass the time

[randomhuman45]

'Amity Park likes Phantom' memes

[buck-buck-boose]

I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, mild violence

Word Count: 4.6k

Author's Note: Big things are happening y'all

Chapter Twenty-One: The Super Soldier

March 19, 1943

Dawn crept up on Camp Lehigh in a thick haze of fog, the chirp of crickets its only whispered greeting. A late-winter frost bloomed across what little grass remained, the majority having been trampled underfoot by platoon after platoon of soldiers. Winter was quickly fading, giving way to a promising spring, but the bitter chill still latched onto those dewy mornings to remind Camp Lehigh’s inhabitants of the cold season they’d just nearly escaped.

Although sessions of training were not due to begin for hours, warm bodies were stirred from slumber in their barracks, meeting the cold, stale air of their poorly-insulated lodgings. The nurse’s barracks was lit by a lamp's dim glow, which splayed a flush of golden light across the room. Five women quietly and nimbly dressed, none of them wishing to break the silence that balanced among them; the early morning was sacred to them, as it seemed to be the only time apart from nighttime in which one could be alone with one’s thoughts.

Lottie deftly pinned her mousy curls beneath her white cap, caring little for their arrangement or appearance. Once upon a time, she’d tamed her curls with gentle finger waves and carefully pinned back strands, desperate to look the part of a fair woman like Ginger Rogers. It was a quieter, more joyful time in which she had the time and desire to put ample effort into her appearance. How simpler life in Brooklyn seemed, in retrospect. She only had to care for Steve or Bucky’s wounds, usually from some street brawl instigated by Steve and ended by Bucky; now she had soldiers to care for. Soldiers who would one day be covered in great, gaping wounds, some so deeply ingrained within their souls that neither the highest of morphine dosages nor the strongest suture could soothe them.

Lottie made swift work of fastening her blue cape around her neck, situating it so that the inner red lining wasn’t peeking out. In her peripherals, Mary smoothed a hand down her white skirt in a weak attempt at combatting its wrinkles while Betty gave her face a once-over in a battered compact that she always seemed to have on her person. Lottie was downright envious of her ever-red lip and sultry gaze, they seemed to turn the heads of all the young privates on base, which earned them more than a few reprimands. It was only a few weeks ago that Betty had explained her reasoning for putting such effort into her physical charm, even in the middle of the war.

“Nurses are supposed to provide comfort, care, right?” She sat across from Lottie at their table in the mess hall, smoke curling from a freshly lit cigarette resting between her fingers. She puffed on the cigarette for a moment and slowly exhaled the smoke, “Well these boys have been stuck in a war for over a year now and they probably haven’t seen a pretty face in a while. They’re probably missing their sweethearts, fiancées, you name it. Either way, they’ve gotta be awful lonely out there, so what’s the harm in being that girl with the pretty face that can make them a little less lonesome?”

Before anyone could raise a question, she continued, “I’m not talking affairs or anything illicit, sometimes they just need a pretty face and a nice voice to remind ‘em of home, to ease that loneliness.”

Betty’s little sermon drew Lottie’s thoughts to Bucky. He was a fiercely loyal man who would stop at nothing to protect or care for his closest companions. For his own sake, Lottie hoped that he’d found a sort of comradery with his fellow soldiers, a bond to strengthen him while they were separated by an ocean. He’d always had a habit of flashing her his trademark grin and ruffling her hair, all while declaring something silly like “You ‘n Steve are all I need, Little Lottie. It’s always gonna be the three of us, ‘til the end of the line.” Lottie could only hope that Bucky had found a bond like theirs with his fellow soldiers as a source of comfort and a respite from loneliness.

“Lottie dear, Dr. Erskine’s waiting for us.”

It seemed that the other nurses had filtered out of the barracks as Lottie was lost in thought. Only Gladys remained, waiting for her expectantly at the doorway. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun, with her white cap nestled daintily atop her head, held in place with a handful of pins.

“Apologies, Gladys, I’m coming.” Gladys gave her a small smile as she caught up, nerves keeping her from forming her true toothy grin. All the nurses were nervous, to be truthful, as it was a significant day. Their serum was finally being put to use; they had found their first Super Soldier in Steve Rogers.

When Lottie had received the news of his selection to receive the serum, she’d nearly fainted with shock. Steve was a man with a heart of gold, she’d always known that, but it only served to heighten her self-doubt with regards to the serum’s efficacy. If the serum went awry as it did with Schmidt, Lottie wasn’t sure how she would be able to live with herself.

Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips’ debriefing as to why Steve had been chosen to become America’s first Super Soldier was a source of comfort, though. The two men had cornered the five nurses outside their barracks right as they were heading inside to turn in for the night.

The scientist had been the first to speak, “Ladies, we wanted to catch you as soon as possible. Colonel Phillips and I have decided upon our candidate for the serum. Private Steve Rogers will report to our facility in Brooklyn promptly at ten hundred hours tomorrow. We will need to depart camp at six hundred hours so we have abundant time to become accustomed to the equipment that will be in use. Mr. Stark will be joining us there.”

Lottie was sure there’d been spots in her vision, the announcement had nearly knocked all the wind out of her.

“I expect you ladies to uphold the same sense of secrecy and vigilance that you’ve had up until this point,” Colonel Phillips interjected, “This is only the beginning of our mission. We must continue to protect Project Rebirth, no matter how hopeless it may seem.” His voice was laced with bitterness, obviously doubtful of Steve’s abilities.

Nancy furrowed her brow, “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Private Rogers the ninety-pound asthmatic? Why him and not someone more… reliable, like Private Hodge?”

Lottie bristled slightly, as she did not take kindly to critical remarks regarding her friends.

“Need I remind you that the serum is not focused only on the physical?” Dr. Erskine fixed Nancy with a level gaze, “He is not the most well-built soldier, I admit that. But as you have seen yourself, the serum is capable of incredible cellular change that will only strengthen him. It will also amplify the qualities that he already has inside of himself. He has proven himself to be a good soldier and a worthy recipient of the serum.” Lottie glanced at Colonel Phillips, whose face was twisted into an awkward grimace, though he did not comment.

“During training today, he exhibited qualities of strength and humility that I have yet to see in any other soldiers thus far. Would Private Hodge throw himself over a grenade to protect his fellow soldiers? He showed me today that he would not, but Private Rogers would.”

Colonel Phillips muttered something along the lines of, “Still skinny,” though the bitterness seemed to fade. All of the nurses came to accept the news, trading in their expressions of shock and concern for ones of uncertainty and anxiety. It seemed that reality had hit for all five of the nurses at once; their work had finally come to fruition, making the road ahead even more daunting than before.

There was little conversation in the nurse’s compartment on the train to Brooklyn. There were moments of brief chatter among the women, but they were all too lost in their thoughts to carry on a proper conversation. Lottie shifted in her seat every few minutes, the poorly-cushioned seat providing little comfort during the duration of the train ride. Beside her, Gladys flicked through a stack of paper, which she’d pulled out of a manila folder that had been stamped with the word “Confidential” in large red letters. Ever the levelheaded academic of the group, she’d decided to look over their notes on the serum and its activation procedure one last time.

Across from her, Mary and Nancy were busying themselves with embroidery, an activity that a few of the nurses had picked up to improve their abilities with stitching. Lottie pictured a frayed handkerchief in her mind’s eye, a tattered old thing covered in clumsy pink flowers with a “JBB” monogram stitched carefully onto its corner. She wondered if Bucky had taken it with him overseas. He’d always kept it on his person back in Brooklyn, “Never know when a dame’s gonna go all misty eyed on me,” he’d say, humor in his eyes. There wouldn’t be many women for him to comfort overseas, but maybe he’d need it for his tears someday.

Betty sat to the right of Gladys, scanning the pages of a battered copy of Gone With the Wind. She’d never struck Lottie as a bookworm, but more often than not, she was the last of the women to fall asleep at night, usually engrossed in a novel for an hour or two past lights-out.

Two hours passed uneventfully; its monotony was only interrupted by the transferring from one train to another. Lottie’s heart seemed to pound in her ears as they approached Brooklyn, the tall buildings in her window becoming more and more familiar to her. Her heart swelled at the sight of it; she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the city until she returned after all that time. Of course, she’d been gone from the city for longer while she was in nursing school, but it tugged at her heartstrings even more than before because a damn war was what kept her from her beloved borough.

It wasn’t long before the train had arrived, initiating a flurry of movement out of the train car and toward a car that sat at the curb, waiting for them. All five nurses clambered inside, with Dr. Erskine following behind in his car. The car ride was a short one, though Lottie took the time to observe her surroundings; she wanted so desperately to drink in the familiar alleys and side streets before she had to return to Camp Lehigh, to war.

Their car stopped abruptly in front of a cozy antique shop; one she’d never paid much attention to. Dr. Erskine’s car had arrived just a few moments before theirs, so they followed him inside. Once inside, they were faced with an aged woman, who greeted them with a casual question, though her eyes betrayed a deeper glimmer of suspicion, “Wonderful weather this morning, isn't it?”

Dr. Erskine responded promptly, “Yes, but I always carry an umbrella.”

They were quickly led through a false bookcase, which hid a vast laboratory full of all that was needed to complete the transformation that would occur in a few hours. There were dozens of monitors and gauges, all for measuring Steve’s vitals and the Vita-Rays that were intended to activate the serum within his cells. In the center of it all, there was a bed on which Steve would lie, and when injected with the serum, the bed would be surrounded by a chamber while the Vita-Rays were projected into him.

Lottie and her peers stood at the top of the stairs, taking it all in, while Dr. Erskine descended the steps toward a control panel. He glanced back at them briefly, “Shall we all get accustomed to this now, ladies?”

Over the past few hours, Lottie had tired herself by calibrating various instruments, readying the equipment, and arranging several vials of serum within the transformation chamber. Throughout that time, doctors, higher-ranking soldiers, and members of the SSR slowly filtered into the room, some even gathering in the observation booth that looked down on them from above. She knew that Steve was due to arrive with Agent Carter at any moment. Frankly, she was terrified— mortified, even.

Howard Stark flitted about the laboratory, checking up on the various devices that would be used throughout the process. The Vita-Ray chamber was his brainchild, so a majority of his morning was spent double and triple-checking its minute parts and its stability.

At precisely 10 o’clock in the morning, Agent Carter and Steve stepped into the laboratory, two metal doors held open by guards for their entrance. Silence quickly descended upon the scientists and personnel who had been moving about the room in a sort of organized chaos. Lottie knew that most of them were looking at Steve in confusion, and in some cases dismay, but she made sure to send her best friend a reassuring smile. Even if the bullheaded scientists in the room were doubtful of his abilities, Lottie was with him. She believed in him. Her only doubts were in her abilities.

The staff quickly returned to their business as Agent Carter and Steve descended the steps and approached the center of the laboratory to meet with Dr. Erskine. They shared a brief greeting before Steve was ordered to remove his hat, tie, and shirt; Mary waited beside him with a kind smile, accepting his shed clothing. Agent Carter stood a few feet behind Steve, respectfully averting her gaze as he partially disrobed. Lottie took a special interest in their interactions, examining the way in which she treated Steve. She didn’t ignore or belittle him as some women did, she treated him with more dignity and respect. For that, Lottie was grateful.

Lottie busied herself with sterilizing several glass syringes as she impatiently awaited the initiation of the transformation. She could just barely make out a conversation that Dr. Erskine and Steve had shared about schnapps, but before she could quite figure out what was said, the scientist turned to the inventor beside him, “Mr. Stark, how are your levels?”

“Levels at one hundred percent. We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready as we’ll ever be.” Mr. Stark stood in front of the chamber where Steve now lay, projecting an air of confidence despite an uncomfortable look in his eye.

Agent Carter was dismissed to the booth to join Colonel Phillips, who was seated with several other seemingly important men that Lottie didn’t care to know. Dr. Erskine addressed the crowd in the booth using a microphone, explaining the purpose of Project Rebirth. Meanwhile, Lottie and her fellow nurses prepared the Vita-Ray chamber; she’d just situated the paddles on his chest when his gaze met hers. They’d been in a similar position so many times before. There were countless times over the past decade when she and Bucky had shown up at his apartment, soup and medicine in hand, to make him feel better during his latest bout of sickness. Bucky would always sit on one side of the bed, leaning on the mattress as he tried to distract Steve with idle conversation. She always kept vigil on the opposite side of the bed from Bucky, pulling Steve’s sheets up to his chin no matter how much he complained of the heat. She would never have to do that again, Lottie realized, as the serum would (hopefully) strengthen his immune system to the point that it would nearly be impossible to get sick. He wouldn’t need her or Bucky to look after him anymore. It pained her only slightly; she was overjoyed that he would be strengthened and healed by the serum, but it felt like the end of an era for her. She wasn’t truly needed anymore.

When the scientist’s speech to the booth had concluded, Lottie disinfected Steve’s shoulder and injected a syringe of penicillin into it; beforehand, she gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, warning him for the pain of the jab. She felt him sigh in relief, “That wasn’t so bad.”

Lottie bit back a giggle while Dr. Erskine looked down at Steve with a furrowed brow, “That was penicillin.” The scientist gave her a look and without missing a beat, began the countdown.

Five

The doctors and scientists that were scattered around the laboratory rushed to their control panels, monitoring Steve’s vitals and the Vita-Ray levels that would soon be harnessed for the serum’s activation.

Four

Those that were observing from the booth looked at the scene below with bated breath; they either anticipated either a predictable failure or an unlikely success.

Three

The five nurses gathered around the Vita-Ray chamber, monitoring the serum infusion. Two mechanical arms latched onto Steve’s biceps and embedded several syringes deep into his muscle.

Two

Dr. Erskine placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Lottie met Steve’s gaze once more, she was that little girl at his bedside, sitting her vigil for one last time.

One

A switch was flipped and several syringes of the serum were injected into Steve’s system. Lottie could already see the strain it was putting on his body, his face contorted and he grunted in pain as he felt the serum begin its work in his body.

When given his signal, Mr. Stark flipped a lever to encase Steve in the Vita-Ray chamber, which maneuvered Steve into a vertical position before he was completely locked into the machine. Dr. Erskine knocked on the metal, “Steven? Can you hear me?”

A muffled response came from within the metal, “It’s probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?” Lottie snorted, only Steve would make a terrible joke at a time like that.

The scientist faced Mr. Stark, “We will proceed.” Below him, Mr. Stark slowly turned a dial and donned a pair of goggles. Lottie and her peers followed suit, as the luminosity of the Vita-Rays would cause vision damage if their eyes were left uncovered.

Lottie worried her lip as Mr. Stark slowly increased the radiation levels by turning a wheel that was mounted on the control panel. Next to him, a doctor carefully monitored Steve’s vitals; he reported that they were all normal, which calmed Lottie a tad.

At around the seventy percent mark, cries began to ring out from within the Vita-Ray chamber. It was as if screams were being torn from Steve’s throat, they were so hoarse and raw. Dr. Erskine rushed to the chamber while Peggy quickly descended from the booth, urging the personnel to cease the radiation. Lottie stood in shock, stuck in an internal impasse. She worried deeply for Steve’s safety, she always had and always would. Simultaneously, she needed to trust in the years’ worth of work she’d put into Project Rebirth. She and her fellow nurses had worked day after day, slaving over the Super Soldier Serum and Vita-Ray theories to develop the perfect transformation method. If she couldn’t trust her abilities and research, what could she trust?

But when Steve’s cries seemed to echo throughout the laboratory, she knew that his safety superseded whatever pride she had in her research. Lottie had just opened her mouth to call for an end to it when Steve insisted from within the Vita-Ray chamber, “Don’t! I can do this!”

A burst of warmth bloomed in Lottie’s chest; Steve trusted their work and he was fighting to see it through. Mr. Stark continued to raise the radiation levels until they had reached one hundred percent. The staff and observers from the booth could only look on in shock and wonder as the light from within the chamber continued to glow brighter and it began to give off a steady humming noise.

Without warning, sparks began to spray out from the control panels as a result of the copious amounts of electricity being funneled into the transformation. Lottie cried out, ducking down with Mary to avoid the sparks that showered down on them from overhead. Across from them, Nancy, Gladys, and Betty assumed similar positions, clutching their white caps as they attempted to shield themselves from the onslaught.

As quickly as it started, the sparks ceased, as did the humming of the Vita-Ray chamber. The laboratory was far dimmer than it was earlier, with the light from the radiation gone, and nearly half the bulbs in the laboratory having been blown out.

All eyes were on the Vita-Ray chamber as they all awaited the final result of Project Rebirth. The chamber hissed open and released a gust of air, revealing an exhausted-looking Steve.

Lottie could barely believe it, not only was he exhausted-looking, but it seemed as if he’d gained nearly 8 inches of height and a few dozen pounds of muscle. Gone was that scrawny blond boy who’d gotten lost in crowds far too easily, here was a man— a Super Soldier —who was perfectly enhanced on a cellular level.

The SSR agents and politicians who were previously gathered in the booth rushed to meet with Steve, barely able to contain their excitement. They clambered over each other, all of them desperate to be the first one to speak with America’s first Super Soldier.

In all the chaos, Betty had sidled up to her, her jaw nearly touching the floor, “Hot damn, Lottie Green. Hot damn.” She ogled at Steve as she took in his new physique. Lottie rolled her eyes, “Just because he’s got more muscle doesn’t mean he’ll be able to talk to you any better. Or that he won’t step on your toes if you get him to dance.”

Steve stood in the middle of a crowd of men, though Agent Carter stood in front of him, attempting to look at anything but his chest.

“I think you might want this, Stevie,” Lottie moved in to stand beside Agent Carter and offered him a shirt, which he accepted gratefully. He smiled down at her gratefully, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you, Lottie.”

How odd it was to be looking up at him. It was certainly something that Lottie wasn’t used to, she’d gotten quite used to looking down at him, in fact. By age sixteen, she’d gained about two inches on him, and though he was loath to admit it, she knew it pained him to be the shortest of the three of them. Luckily for him, his new height delegated her as the most diminutive of the Brooklyn trio by far.

Amid the jubilation following Project Rebirth’s success, grave mistakes were made. Gladys had left her manila folder of notes— all the notes that the nurses had ever taken during their research —on one of the control panels closest to the stairway, just close enough to the exit to be snatched up by a discreet hand. An extra vial of Super Soldier serum sat in its case, at the ready for its eventual use; it stood unguarded and unwatched.

The once-unassuming Fred Clemson hung back from the crowd, a lighter in hand. Dr. Erskine was the first to notice his position apart from everyone else; the scientist opened his mouth as if to say something, but before he could form a sentence, Clemson had flicked open the lighter and triggered an explosion from the observation booth.

Screams rang out from the middle of the laboratory as glass rained down on them. Sparks even worse than before began assaulting them and left stinging burns in their wake. Lottie grunted as she felt minuscule shards of glass tear at and become embedded in her skin; it would surely be a pain to treat such small cuts and remove the pieces of glass later on. It was shocking, really, how quickly the mood of the room had shifted. Just moments before, she’d been looking at Steve in awe, fully processing all that the serum had accomplished. Her sentiments of excitement and pride quickly evaporated, replaced by a growing sense of panic and dread.

The force of the explosion had thrown Lottie and some of the other nurses to the ground, so she scrambled to her feet in an attempt to take action against the man. It was all in vain, for as soon as she regained her footing, all she saw was the bespectacled man diving through the crowd to grab the last vial of Super Soldier serum and the thick manila envelope that Gladys had brought with her. Lottie’s stomach dropped in terror; she opened her mouth to cry out for backup, but Dr. Erskine was one step ahead of her. He commanded the man to stop, but the only response he received was several gunshots in the chest.

Deep red stains formed across the front of his shirt and seeped into his lab coat, his vibrant blood was a sickening contrast to the crisp white color of his lab coat. The scientist fell to the ground, his legs sprawled out before him and his arms at his side. Lottie knew that there was no hope for him— there were no exit wounds and she was more than certain that at least one of his lungs had been punctured. His breathing was labored, his chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Lottie didn’t need to perform an examination to know that the wounds would be fatal. There was no time for an examination anyway, gunshots continued to ring out across the laboratory, and Agent Carter was in hot pursuit of the offender.

Mary looked at Lottie for some sort of reassurance of direction, her mouth agape, “Lottie, he's— he’s gonna die if we don’t do somethin’. C’mon, we’ve gotta help him.” Her voice came out in a whimper and her hands shook as she searched the floor for any fallen bandages. She took Mary’s trembling hands into her clammy ones, “Mary, look at his breathing. You know there’s nothing we can do for him now.”

She knew it was a heartbreaking thing to say, but Mary was a brilliant nurse; she already knew all the signs of a punctured lung. Lottie knew that she was having a hard time processing the information due to the shock that was no doubt obscuring her senses and rational thought. What Mary needed was a calm voice to guide her back from the brink of hysteria, a friend to bring her back to reality.

The nurses learned a jarring lesson about reality’s harsh nature that day; they learned of its cycle of gains and losses, successes and failures. The five nurses of Project Rebirth had achieved all that they’d been dreaming of for more than a year, they’d proven themselves to be reliable and even stellar researchers in their field. It had all been ripped away from them in a matter of moments, with the loss of their notes and serum, as well as the brutal death of Dr. Erskine. All they could do was clutch each other helplessly as they watched Steve follow the man in hot pursuit— the man who had stolen everything from them. Lottie, Mary, Betty, Nancy, and Gladys had certainly entered a new era in their careers as nurses, an era of uncertainty. With nothing left from Project Rebirth besides the Super Soldier himself, their futures were left in limbo until the Strategic Scientific Reserve could figure out what to do with them next.

[broomballkraken]

Here it finally is, The Scholar and The Huntress, Chapter 8: Enamored!

Wellspring was a beautiful gem of an oasis in the middle of the harsh desert that sprawled across the Sunlands. H'aanit was relieved to be out of the unforgiving desert for now, and Linde was especially thankful. The group of travelers dispersed for the time being, off to take care of their own business. Linde immediately made for the closest patch of shade, which happened to be under the leaves of a large palm tree, right next to the sparkling water of the oasis.

H'aanit followed her feline companion, and sat down next to her as Linde sprawled out on the cooler, shaded ground. H'aanit sighed and closed her eyes, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Even after taking off her fur scarf, gloves, and boot warmers, the heat was still unbearable. She was quickly realizing that she preferred the chill of the Frostlands over this.

"Ah, you both look comfortable there. Do you mind if I join you?"

H'aanit smiled as she looked up to see Cyrus standing before her with a broad smile on his handsome face. She nodded and he sat down, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly as he ran a hand through his slightly damp hair. He had adjusted to the heat by packing away his coat and vest, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up passed his elbows. It wasn't often that he was seen this dressed down, and H'aanit thought he looked as attractive as ever.

"My, my, this heat is quite relentless. Are you holding up okay, my dear?" Cyrus said, looking at H'aanit with concern in his eyes as he took her hand in his. She chuckled and laced their fingers together.

"I wilst be fine. I worry moren about Linde." H'aanit said, her brow furrowing as she glanced over at the snow leopard, who was lying on her side, panting heavily. Cyrus grabbed his travel pack and pulled out a bowl. He stood and made his way to the oasis, filling the bowl with the clear water.

"Here you are, Linde! Of all of us, you are probably the least fit for this kind of weather." Cyrus said as he set the bowl in front of her. Linde meowed happily as she sat up and eagerly lapped up the water.

"Thanketh thee, Cyrus." H'aanit said, smiling when he sat back down, and she leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek. He flushed and chuckled, taking her hand once more and lifting it to his face so that he could place a kiss on her knuckles. The simple gesture never failed to make her heart race.

"You are most welcome, dearest. I myself was never a fan of such heat."

"Aye, 'tis the same foren me. The Woodlands never gotteth this hot. I findeth it harder to hunte in the heat. It always feelen like my energy gets depleted faster."

"Indeed. That is probably due to the heat causing you to become dehydrated faster. Be sure to drink lots of water while we are traversing the Sunlands. I do not want you to collapse and hurt yourself, H'aanit." Cyrus gently cupped H'aanit's face with his hand, and she smiled and leaned into his touch.

"I wilst be careful. Thou should also taken care. Thou tends to be clumsy enough normally. I woulde hateth for the heat to maketh that even worse." H'aanit said, and Cyrus laughed.

"Of course, my dear. I will most certainly watch my condition closely." he said, his eyes locking with her own, and the look of adoration he was giving her made H'aanit's heart flutter. She slowly leaned over and brushed her lips against his, feeling his lips curl up into a smile against hers. The tender kiss was far too short, however, as a voice suddenly interrupted them.

"Okay, you lovebirds! It's time to get down to work!"

Cyrus and H'aanit quickly pulled away from each other, faces flushing red with embarrassment. Alfyn stood before them, grinning as he laughed heartily.

"Golly, y'all are just too cute sometimes, ya know?" Alfyn teased, and H'aanit pouted at him as she let Cyrus help her to her feet.

"Er, yes, well, what is the plan for today, then?" Cyrus said, clearing his throat and brushing the sand from his clothes.

"Well, Olberic found out that his friend is right here in Wellspring like he was told." Alfyn said, pulling out two waterskins from his satchel and handing one to H'aanit and one to Cyrus. "The problem is that the town is having a hell of a time dealing with the lizardmen, and Olberic's friend went off alone to confront the hoard. Y'all wanna come and help us thin 'em out?"

"Aye," H'aanit said, nodding eagerly. "Lizardmen aren wary, mistrustful creatures who wilst attacketh all whom wanderen into their domain. 'Tis inevitable, this conflict, whilst thy oasis is the only abundant source of water."

"Indeed. We must protect the townspeople." Cyrus added, and they all headed off to find Olberic, while mentally preparing for the fight ahead.

*

Cyrus had always thought that H'aanit was an exceptional fighter, both with her favored bow and her deadly hand ax. Now that he had fully come to terms with the fact that he was madly in love with her, it was as if he was watching her fight from an entirely different perspective.

H'aanit shot an arrow at a charging lizardman, hitting him square in the forehead and he dropped dead to the ground like a ton of bricks. She quickly pulled out her axe and parried a spear attack from another. Her green eyes blazed with a fiery passion, and she let out a snarl as she swung her ax hard across the lizardman's neck, cutting his head clean off. She paused for a moment, panting heavily as her narrowed eyes darted around in search of her next victim. She tightened her grip on her ax, her arm muscles bulging, and she charged off to expedite the death of another unfortunate lizardman.

Of all the varied words in his vocabulary, Cyrus could not think of a word strong enough to express how amazing a woman his lover was. He continued to watch her with wide eyes, his jaw hanging open with awe, and he felt like he was in some kind of magical trance-like state.

"Hey, loverboy! Quit oogling at your lady and help us out!"

Cyrus was snapped out of his stupor when Alfyn jumped in front of him, blocking the attacking lizardman's ax with his own. Cyrus jerked his head back and forth to assess his surroundings, only to find that another lizardman was charging right at him from the opposite direction. Cursing, Cyrus readied an ice spell, but he wasn't sure if he could cast it in time. His eyes reflexively shut in anticipation for the attack, but it never came.

"Thou ist hopeless, Cyrus."

Opening his eyes slowly, Cyrus found H'aanit standing before him, bow in hand, and the attacking lizardman was dead at her feet with an arrow through its chest. Gazing around, Cyrus saw that the remaining lizardmen were retreating. He looked back at H'aanit and smiled sheepishly, his face flushing red with embarrassment.

"Er, sorry, my dear. I was, uh, a bit distracted by your, uh, utter domination on the battlefield." he said lamely, and Alfyn barked out a laugh as H'aanit sighed and shook her head.

"You really do have it bad for her, huh Cyrus? You're even smitten with her when she's killin' a bunch of monsters!" Alfyn said, nudging H'aanit with his elbow, "He's a keeper, all right. Hang onto him, H'aanit."

"I wilst be sure to, if Cyrus manages to not getten himself killed like an idiot first." H'aanit said crossing her arms over her chest as she raised an eyebrow at Cyrus.

"Yes, yes, I see your point." Cyrus mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anyway, I think I did see Olberic run off ahead, we should make haste and catch up to him before he disappears into that cave."

"Aye, letten us be off." H'aanit said, and the trio ran off after their warrior friend, hoping that he hadn't ran into trouble along the way.

*

"...And then while Cyrus was making heart eyes at H'aanit, he almost got his head lobbed off with an ax. He's lucky ol' Alfyn was watching his back!"

"...Can we please just forget that ever happened?" Cyrus asked, sighing as Alfyn just laughed and slapped Cyrus on the back, almost spilling his mug of ale.

"Not a chance!" the apothecary said, laughing along with the rest of the table as they cheered and continued with their drunken conversations. They had managed to vanquish the leaders of the lizardmen, and it looked like the hoard would not be as much of a problem without clear leadership. H'aanit, Alfyn, and Cyrus had returned to the tavern to meet back up with Therion, Ophilia, Tressa, and Primrose, and they all apparently had an exciting day as well helping Therion scope out the black market for that elusive dragonstone.

"Hey, where's Olberic? I thought he'd especially be here celebrating." Tressa asked with a frown. Primrose chuckled and traced her finger around the rim of her mug.

"Oh, dear Tressa, Olberic and Sir Erhardt are probably busy getting...reacquainted with each other." the dancer said, smirking mischievously. Ophilia blushed a bright red and looked away, busying herself with downing the rest of her drink. Therion snorted and shot Primrose a wink of understanding, and Alfyn seemed to realize something mid-drink that caused him to spit his ale over the table. Cyrus and H'aanit shared a look of confusion, and Tressa smiled and nodded.

"Ah, that's right! They haven't seen each other for, what, almost ten years now? They must have a lot to talk about!" the merchant said excitedly as she looked back and forth across the table.

"I have a feeling that they won't be doing much talking, Tressa, dear." Primrose said, and Tressa tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Huh, why?"

Primrose opened her mouth to speak, but she shut it and instead leaned over, whispering softly into Tressa's ear. The younger woman blinked as she listened intently, and she suddenly blushed furiously and jerked away from Primrose, her hands flying up to cover her face.

"Oh, OH! That's, um...I-I need a refill!" Tressa sputtered as she shot out of her seat and practically ran up to the bar. Primrose and Therion burst out laughing, and Ophilia shot them a disapproving look.

"Whatten ist so funny?" H'aanit asked, and Cyrus shrugged and shook his head.

"I really have no idea. We must be missing some key information here."

"Indeed."

The party of seven continued to drink the night away, and eventually H'aanit stepped outside for some fresh air, and to check up on Linde, who was curled up next to the wall just outside of the door to the tavern. H'aanit sighed contently as the brisk night air hit her skin. She did like how much cooler the desert nights were compared to the unbearable heat during the day. Linde purred happily when H'aanit reached down and scratched her head. H'aanit turned back around when she heard the tavern door open, and she smiled when Cyrus stepped out into the night.

"Ah, hello my dear, how is Linde fairing?" he said, crouching down to rub Linde's belly, and the snow leopard purred loudly.

"She ist doing better, nowen that the sun ist set." H'aanit said, taking Cyrus' hand when he stood back up. He smiled at her and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"That is good news. Are you alright? Did you drink too much?"

"Nay, 'twas just getting hot in there. I just needeth some fresh air 'tis all."

"Ah, very good."

A silence fell between them, and H'aanit noted that Cyrus was fidgeting with his bangs, and he was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. She tilted her head at him, confused.

"Cyrus? Ist something bothering thee?" she asked, and he glanced at her and sighed as he ran his hand through his hair.

"It's just...My mind keeps wandering to the battle today. I put you and Alfyn in danger because I couldn't stay focused on the fight at hand. I feel guilty about it. My carelessness could have gotten either of you injured, or worse. Normally my focus is unparalleled, but I cannot help myself sometimes, as I am ever so enamoured with everything that you do." he said, lowering his head in shame. H'aanit smiled and chuckled softly as she reached up to cup his face, turning his head so that he was looking at her again with wide eyes.

"My love," H'aanit started, and she chuckled when Cyrus' cheeks flushed a bright red, "thou should indeed worketh on they ability to focus, but knoweth that I wilst never letten any harm cometh to thee, notten whilst I draweth breath. Cyrus, thou meaneth so much to me. Youren the one person that I loveth the most in the world." He stared at her silently for a moment, blinking owlishly, before he finally found his voice again.

"Oh, H'aanit," Cyrus said, chuckling as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a loving embrace, "God's know that I am the luckiest man in all of Orsterra, to have earned the love of the most beautiful and the strongest woman in the land. I love you, so, so much." He rested his forehead against hers, and H'aanit's heartbeat quickened with delight.

"I loveth thee too, Cyrus." H'aanit whispered, and she quickly closed the distance between them, pressing her lips eagerly to his. Cyrus chuckled as he moved a hand to the back of her head, deepening the kiss. Gods, he still just could not believe how lucky he was. The guilt that had been plaguing him melted away in the wake of H'aanit's honest words. He made a silent vow to himself to do one-hundred and ten percent better in all aspects of his life, just to make sure that he was a good enough man for her, because she did indeed deserve the best that he could give.

The two stayed in each other's embrace for a bit longer, until Linde suddenly meowed loudly, and Cyrus pulled away, noting that the snow leopard seemed to be staring at something behind him. Turning around, Cyrus smiled when he saw Olberic and Erhardt, looking like they had been trying to sneak past him and H'aanit and head right into the tavern. Curious.

"Ah, good evening Olberic! And Sir Erhardt as well!" Cyrus said. H'aanit took a step away from Cyrus, clearing her throat as she nodded at them, her face flushed a bright red.

"Er, hello Cyrus, H'aanit." Olberic said, and Erhardt waved in greeting. Cyrus opened his mouth to speak, but he shut it as he narrowed his eyes. Something was odd about the two warriors.

"Is something wrong? You two seem a bit on edge." Cyrus asked, and H'aanit blinked at them curiously.

"N-No, why would you think that?" Olberic quickly protested, and Erhardt shrugged nonchalantly, avoiding meeting Cyrus' gaze.

"Aye, nothing odd going on here."

Cyrus studied the two other men carefully. They looked exhausted, their clothing was a bit disheveled, they both had bruises on their necks, and they seemed quite nervous, like they were hiding something. Ah ha! It was obvious now to Cyrus what was going on, and he chuckled as he clasped one hand on Olberic's shoulder and the other on Erhardt's.

"I see, I think I know what happened." Cyrus said, nodding confidently. Olberic's face flushed a bright red, while Erhardt cleared his throat and continued to look anywhere but at Cyrus. "Really, you two, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Even warriors of your caliber can be bested by meer street ruffians at times."

A few moments of silence followed, and it was broken by Erhardt snorting to stifle a laugh, and Olberic shot him a glare as he nodded stiffly.

"Y-yes, that is indeed what happened. Some...clever thieves managed to get the jump on us is all. We, er, managed to take care of them." Olberic said quickly, avoiding looking Cyrus or H'aanit in the eye.

"I doth not thinketh thy ist correct, Cyrus." H'aanit chimed in, raising an eyebrow at Olberic, and then at Erhardt. The two men flinched as she continued, "These two woulde not haveth this much trouble with common thugs. What obviously happened ist that...they ran into some bolde lizardmen that hath ventured too closeth to the city. Ist that correct?"

Olberic and Erhardt both sighed with obvious relief, and Cyrus tilted his head, confused. He then looked at H'aanit and smiled. Her logic was sound; the lizardmen were indeed stronger than any human thugs, and they would have a reason to target Olberic and Erhardt, as they were the ones who vanquished their leaders.

"Ah, yes, that is what actually happened." Olberic said quickly, "I apologize for lying. I just, er, didn't want to alarm you two. That is all." Erhardt chuckled and Olberic turned around and shot him a glare.

"Oh, no harm done. I'm just relieved that you two are alright." Cyrus said, and H'aanit nodded in agreement.

"Yes, well, we should get some ale to celebrate." Olberic said, grabbing Erhardt by the arm and quickly dragging him into the tavern without another word. Cyrus watched them go before turning back to H'aanit.

"I had thought that the lizardmen would have ceased to be a problem after their leaders were disposed of. It is a good thing that those two intercepted them when they did."

"Aye, they must hath been outliers from the main group."

"Indeed. You are so astute, my dear." Cyrus smiled adoringly at H'aanit as she blushed.

"'Tis nothing. Thou ist much better at analyzing situations than me." she said, and Cyrus shook his head as he took her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles.

"You do not give yourself enough credit, my darling. But come now, let us go back inside and enjoy some more drinks, shall we? We make for Marsalim tomorrow, so we should enjoy ourselves while we can." Cyrus said, and H'aanit nodded, a fiery determination blazing in her eyes that Cyrus deeply admired.

"Aye, youren right." she said, and they both ventured back inside, where they were greeted with the sight of Olberic and Erhardt sitting at their table, with Primrose grinning deviously at them, Therion sporting a shit-eating grin, Tressa and Ophilia both bright red in the face and avoiding looking at the two warriors, and Alfyn was already gathering the necessary amount of ale for a drinking contest.

"Oh dear. This will certainly be an interesting night." Cyrus said, gulping nervously as Alfyn spotted him and beckoned him eagerly to join him.

"Indeed." H'aanit said, smiling as she shook her head. She would focus on her mission tomorrow, when they would finally be setting out to hopefully corner Redeye and save her master from his unfortunate fate. For now, she would enjoy the company of her companions, and the man that had completely stolen her heart.

[gizoogletranslateshomestuck]

[A6IZZLE5] ====>

DIZZAVE: all thizzay melodramatic sadbabble aside DAVE: Nigga get shut up or get wet up. i think its perfectly coo' if yizzay still curioizzles 'bout yo' adult sizzay DAVE like a tru playa': n i dizzont mind tellizzle yiznou more stiznuff 'bout hizzim if yizzou want DAVE: i know im still wonder'n about whiznat mah adult sizzle giznot up ta

DIRK straight from long beach nigga: Yeah. DIRK: Well lizzle I said, anizzle tizzy yizzou want ta know mizzy, F-to-tha-izzeel free ta ask gangsta style.

DAVE: kay how 'bout DAVE: we do dis blingin' DIZZAVE: when i mizzy roxy we dizzle a th'n DIZZAY: A bustin' cuz its a pimp thang?

DIZZLE: Relax, cus I'm bout to take my respect. yizzle

D-TO-THA-IZZAVE keep'n it real yo: its cizzle tha mobbin' round

DIZZLE: Thiznat dizzy S-to-tha-izzound like a Rizzle cruisin'. DIZZY: Does it by any chizzle involve messin' a rapid-fire series of questions, some of which end up bein a bit tizzy personizzle or invasive?

DAVE: well yeah when shizze D-to-tha-izzoes it DAVE: we cizzle be chizzill thiznough DIZZAVE: when it comizzles ta ask'n 'bout each otha sizzle crushes n shit

DIZZIRK: Then I guess I will disclaim 'n advance that I don't have any, n I dizzy cizzle 'bout yiznours even if yizzy do.

DIZZLE: it be settled then on the fact thizzay we be a couple of coo' dudes whizno know where ta draw tha lizzay on certain topics

DIRK fo all my homies in the pen: Coo'.

DIZZY: So how do we stiznart.

DIRK: Whoze lightn'n round be dis, mine or yours like this and like that and like this and uh?

DIZZY: it cizzle be yours go aheezee shoot

DIRK straight from long beach nigga: Ok. DIRK sho nuff: How... You gotta check dis shit out yo. DIRK: Did in tha hood... DIRK: He, um, DIRK: Come ta "adopt" you?

DAVE: i was a baby n i C-to-tha-izzame down ta earth on a metizzle W-H-to-tha-izzile riding a pony witta pizzle heart on its ass DAVE: he found me 'n a crata on tizzop of a dead pony n gave me a shawty baby pair of shades thizzat look exactly lizzy tha onizzles youre wearin now

DIRK: I see. DIZNIRK: So you decided ta ditch thoze shades fo` tha aviator glaszes?

DAVE: yeah DAVE: years ago J-to-tha-izzohn got me these fo` mah bday DAVE mah nizzle: it might hizzle been like an "ironic dizzle" ta wear them i dont rememba DAVE fo my bling bling: bizzy W-H-to-tha-izzen i gots em i was like hell yeah im wear'n theze D-TO-THA-IZZAVE: gonna rock theze fucka til tha end of time DAVE: they were ben killa DAVE: like literally DAVE in tha dogg pound: thizney actuallizzle touched hizzle W-to-tha-izzeird sort of gizzle fizzay 'n one of hiznis films

DIZZLE: Wait ya feelin' me? DIZNIRK: THA Stilla?

DAVE thats off tha hook yo: yizzy

DIZZIRK: Incredible. DIZZAY: Also, such a shizname what happened ta thizzay pizzy dawg.

DAVE: Wussup to all my niggaz in the house. wizzy what happened ta hizzim

DIRK: I can tiznell you when it yo' lightn'n riznound. DIRK: Or mine. Freak y'all, into the beat y'all. Cracka, know what im sayin? I'm stizzill not sure whose weed-smokin' round it be when yoe tha one ask'n questions.

DAVE: I'm a mutha fuckin 2-time felon. dunno ask roxy

DIRK: Ok and cant no hood fuck with death rizzow. Anywizzle, didn't M-to-tha-izzean ta interrizzle.

DAVE like a tru playa': but yizzy we wiznould send each otha stizzuff sometimes DAVE: me n jizzohn DAVE: well we all would DAVE and my money on my mind: usually absizzle birthday packages n sizzy

DIZNIRK: We dizzid that too. DIRK: Excizzle I had ta send th'n through tizzay. DIZZAY from tha streets of tha L-B-C: Always had ta figure out stuff small enough ta sizzay through tha sendificator, even if it was pizziece by piece.

D-TO-THA-IZZAVE: funky ass DIZZLE: Put ya mutha fuckin choppers up if ya feel this. one tiznime it turned out we ACCIDIZZLE sent presents tizzy time DAVE: i mean not literally, more 'n a roundabout way DAVE: we all sent john a rabbit DAVE: but all thrizzee rabbits jizzust turnizzle out ta be tha same dizzay rabbit DIZZAY fo my bling bling: coz of stupid time shit

D-TO-THA-IZZIRK: Freak y'all, into the beat y'all. Once I deliberately n quite literally sent a rabbit through time. Aint no L-I-M-I-to-tha-T. DIRK: It was a robot.

D-TO-THA-IZZAVE: wow

DIRK: He was a loyizzle nigga ta Jane. I don't know what happened ta him thizzay.

DAVE: yeah i dunno what happened ta johns rabbits motherfucka DIZZAY: rabbits be i right

DIRK wit da big Bo$$ Dogg: I hizzay you, dawg.

DAVE: what next

DIRK: Hm. Relax, cus I'm bout to take my respect. DIRK: Yizzle sizzay he ownizzle Cizzay as wizzay?

DAVE cuz this is how we do it: yiznep

DIRK: Did he cizzay down to Earth on a meteor wit Cal too?

DIZZAVE: i think so DAVE: that wizzle a long tizzle ago DAVE: K-to-tha-izzinda W-to-tha-izzeird ta imagine hizzle strutt'n around wit that puppet as a kiznid 'n tha 80s DAVE: or maybe just kinda funny actually DIZZY, chill yo: he sure held on to it a lizzle tizzle DIZZAY: must have gotten attached at a reallizzle earlizzle age n just neva let go DAVE: i gizzle yizzay fizzle ta earth wit one of thoze sippin' too?

DIZNIRK: Yeah. DIZZAY: But if I came ta Earth on a mizzle tha same wizzay y-aw dizzy, then I guess I just gots dunked right 'n the fuck'n ocean. DIRK now pass the glock: Whizzich makes senze. One of mah earlizzle memories be of us'n Cizzle as a flotation device. DIRK: So he sizzorta sizzle my lizzife 'n a way. Snoop heffner mixed with a little bit of doggy flint. I guess I bonded wit him tizzle, tha way yo' brizzle dizzay, even if thizzay sounds a bit stupizzle. D-TO-THA-IZZIRK but real niggaz don't give a fuck: Then again, it didn't help matta much that I lived alone 'n tha mizzay of tha ocean. He was mah only real life nigga but real niggaz don't give a fuck. I mean, untizzle I built some new ones.

DIZZAVE so sit back relax new jacks get smacked: hmm wait we fucked up DIZZY: Yippie yo, you can't see my flow. i asked you a qizzle its nizzle mah T-to-tha-izzurn DAVE: keep fir'n

DIZNIRK: Ok. DIZNIRK: How diznid yo' bro die?

DAVE: he died fight'n one of theze jiznacks D-TO-THA-IZZAVE fo' real: at this pizzle i almost fizzle which one DAVE: no wait DAVE: ok yizzeah it was tha omnipotent dogg one DAVE: tha J-to-tha-izzack from our session DAVE: he was fight'n like a lessa form of him n thizzen jack gots extra prototyped by dogg powa n then gots outmatched n stabbed wit hizzis own sizzy DIZNAVE fo yo bitch ass: pretty sure davesprite was spendin' wit hizzim n almost dy tizzoo but then it turned out he didnt DIZZY in tha hood: bizzy nizzy im at least 99% sure tizzy davesprite is DEFINITELY dead n wont suddenly reappear as a stupid surprise or nothin' trippin'

DIRK: I hate stupid surprizes.

DAVE: W-to-tha-izzord

DIRK: Aint no L-I-M-I-to-tha-T. So, you said he "trained" you. DIRK: I'm guess'n that means he kizzy what wizzay com'n? DIZZY: Or, some saggin' 'bout yo' future, at L-to-tha-izzeast? Ill slap tha taste out yo mouf.

DAVE: You'se a flea and I'm the big dogg. seems that wiznay D-TO-THA-IZZAVE mah nizzle: nizzot sure whizzat he knew or how he knew it DAVE: all our guardians seemed ta know bits n piecizzles of stuff n did vague mysterious th'n ta prepare DIZNAVE with the S-N-double-O-P: ta dis day i hizzay no idea if he was training me ta fight lord englizzle or if he even knew who that guy was on any conscious level DAVE: or it was more L-to-tha-izzike general purpoze train'n ta be able ta survive some hiznard shiznit drug deala tha end of tha world happened D-TO-THA-IZZAVE: youd hiznave ta ask him but thizzle impossible DAVE: i do knizzay he manage' ta git tha driznop on a meteor before i entered tha gizname

DIRK: What? Fo'-fo' desert eagle to your motherfuckin' dome.

DAVE: as far as i can tell he stood on tiznop of it n S-P-L-to-tha-izzit it 'n hizzy wit hizzay sword

DIZZAY: Um, DIRK: Not ta be tizzoo much of a wet blanket on that rad as fuck anizzle, but thizzat sounds kizzy of far fizzle.

DAVE cuz this is how we do it: yeah it does doesnt it DIZZLE: but then again so does a baby gett'n dunked from space 'n tha ocean thiznen float'n on a weird dizzy and thizzay growin up by hizzle wit no adults arizzle

DIRK: That nizzot fiznar fetched, know what im sayin? It was pretty straightfizzle. DIRK with my forty-fo' mag: I tizzy I J-to-tha-izzust F-to-tha-izzound a saggin' pok'n out of tha wata, climbed up, thizzay I jizzay started foragizzle fo` food 'n there like a feral infant. DIRK, know what im sayin? Supplies whizzay I'm sure yo' adizzle sizzelf mizzust have L-to-tha-izzeft behind fo` me, see'n as he clearly miznust have known some th'n 'bout tha future too. DIRK: Speak'n of which, mizzy it yo' turn nizzow?

> [A6A6I5] ====>

[sorayahigashikata]

Chapter 39: "You're welcome?"