#~stoic son {squall}

[tehuti88-art]

10/27/23: r/SketchDaily theme, "Drawlloween: Got My Mind On My Mummy/Free Draw Friday." Drawlloween theme, Oct. 27: "Got My Mind On My Mummy."

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This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Ilse von Dobermann. She's Louis Dobermann's (he drops the "von") mother, and a baroness. She and the rest of his family die of the flu long before the main story takes place. She's the opposite of Louis, a social butterfly whereas he's quite solitary and ill at ease in public, though she tries hard to understand him. Dobermann later gives his daughter Adelina the middle name Ilse. There'll be more about her later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se (she's already featured in his Tumblr entry).

Regarding her design, she's a fawn-and-tan doberman pinscher. I'm iffy on her hair; it's supposed to be kind of a pompadour as this part of the story is the late 1800s/early 1900s.

TUMBLR EDIT: Well, glad I checked Louis Dobermann's entry to refresh my memory, because it turns out the info I gave about Ilse von Dobermann is in Katharina von Thiel's entry instead. Oops! Anyway, Katharina's story goes into a good amount of detail regarding the personality differences between mother and son, and how Ilse is the only member of the von Dobermann family to really put any effort into understanding where her younger son is coming from, and in lieu of that, at least trying to make accommodations for their differences. The von Dobermanns--father Rudolf, his brother Ewald, mother Ilse, and older son Horst--are loud, cheery, sociable--except for younger son Louis--he's the exact opposite of all his relatives, being quiet, overly serious and stoic, and reserved to the point of appearing asocial and standoffish. Everyone gets the wrong first impression of him, that he's a disinterested snob who thinks he's better than everyone else and looks down his nose at everyone. As an adult dealing with the Nazi regime, this appearance serves him well. For much of his younger life, Ilse is there to make excuses and offer explanations for his behavior. He has to learn rather early on how to deal without her...then Inga comes along.

Let's back up now.

Freiherr (Baron) Louis Ludwig von Dobermann (yes, he's basically named Louis, twice) is born slightly before the turn of the 20th century (circa 1897, I believe) to Junkers Freiherr Rudolf and Freifrau (Baroness) Ilse; Ilse briefly panics following the delivery, as the baby doesn't cry. The midwife (Louis is born at home) reassures her it's a healthy baby boy, and he makes a small disgruntled noise and wiggles when presented to her so she knows it's true, though it's just so bizarre to her that he isn't squalling--his older brother Horst certainly screamed up a storm when HE was born. Still, aside from his refusal to carry on like any other newborn, he's perfectly normal, and she croons over him as he nurses. Rudolf wants to name him Ludwig. Ilse had agreed on this name for a son, but now that he's here she has second thoughts. "He doesn't look or sound like a Ludwig," she muses; "I think he's a Louis." The parents agree to a compromise of sorts, and the baby is given two variants of the same name--the implication is that he'll be referred to by his middle name, Ludwig, yet it never sticks. He becomes Louis von Dobermann.

Ilse has always been a social butterfly. She's extremely charming and outgoing, making friends with everyone, able and willing to carry on extended conversations about anything, knowing all the right things to say. It doesn't hurt that the von Dobermanns are rich as hell; they're the last of their line, but their family money has gone a long way, and they not only live very comfortably on their big old estate, but have more than enough to give freely to others as suits them. Rudolf and Ilse decide early on on a life of charity to go along with their social life; while money goes a long way toward greasing wheels and influencing people (and the von Dobermanns aren't above making use of it so), they do also genuinely believe in helping others. They definitely aren't coming from any position of knowing what it's like to be in need; they've been pretty well set all their lives (Ilse came from a noble family herself before marrying into the von Dobermann family). It just feels good to do good and to be liked. Although they're old country folk, most of their charity goes to the nearest city; the result is that the city folk adore them, and they're frequently invited to social events and parties. Rudolf's brother Ewald and Louis's brother Horst like the positive attention just as much. The von Dobermanns are often to be found mingling with the grateful city folk or, closer to home, visiting with their neighboring Junkers, including the von Thiels. Then Louis is born.

Ilse starts to realize her younger son is different in more ways than just the one. Unlike Horst, who joins the other children in running around, playing pranks and games and chattering, he tends to stay near Ilse, lurking behind her dress, then, after she urges him to go off on his own, he takes to sitting at the sides of the rooms, always near a window or a door; it takes Ilse a while to understand Louis is always near an escape route. He doesn't approach the other children; he doesn't join in their play. Whenever one approaches him first, he responds, if only to be polite (as he was taught), but when invited to play, he seems unsure what to do; a few times he does try, but always ends up standing off to the side awkwardly before being ignored and left on his own anyway. Eventually he just shakes his head and draws in on himself when asked to play, then he stops being asked altogether.

Ilse's heart breaks seeing her son grow more isolated with each outing. He looks miserable sitting by himself, yet the few times he's made to go interact with others, he seems even more resentful. Oddly, he gets along better with adults than with children, but still mostly stays to himself. Not wanting to force him, yet also not wanting him to be lonely, she takes him out for walks in the countryside sometimes, teaching him the names of the flowers, the trees, the insects, the stars. He responds to this much better than to the one time he goes on a hunting outing with Rudolf, Ewald, and Horst; while Horst cheers to shoot his first bird, Louis can't even take a shot, his eyes big and wet and his lip trembling although he doesn't cry. Ilse decides he prefers life to death, and she appears to be right. Rudolf expresses mild concern at first: "Do...do you suppose he's soft, a Muttersöhnchen...?" Ilse pooh-poohs the idea: "I think he just likes nice things rather than guts and blood. Can you blame a child for not wanting to get his hands dirty if he can help it...? Perhaps he'd rather paint a picture than skin a rabbit, do you think...?"

Louis turns out to not be particularly artistic or passionately creative, either, though Ilse can tell he has deep feelings, he just keeps them to himself; he doesn't seem to dislike people, just seems painfully self-aware when dealing with them. He does take comfort in books, and in the stories Ilse tells him. He enjoys hearing and reading tales of the old history of the country, and while he never puts much stock in the traditional fairytales and legends like many children do, he still likes being told them. In particular, he's drawn to the history of his own family and people and where they came from, what they long ago did. He's fascinated by the old family tree and genealogies Ilse digs out and shows him, of their distant connections to long-ago nobles and royalty. Horst had never shown any such interest, so Ilse enjoys these more introspective moments she gets to spend with her younger son.

She takes him on a walk one winter evening while the others have gone on another hunt, heading off in the opposite direction so their chances of running into each other are small. She notices how Louis flinches at the distant echoes of gunshots, and gently touches his shoulder. "Are you disappointed in me...?" he murmurs, to which she replies, "Stern meines Herzens, I could never be disappointed in you. You have your own path to take...if it's not the same as theirs, then so be it. There's no shame." She leads him to a clearing and points upward, telling him to look. Colors glow and swirl in the darkening sky.

Louis: "What is it...?"

Ilse: "The Northern Lights. The scientists call it the aurora borealis."

Louis: "What makes it do that?"

Ilse: "No one's quite sure yet. The scientists have their theories; maybe someday one of them will finally figure it out." *pause* "There are old stories though, folk stories, that try to explain them."

Louis: "Folk stories...?"

Ilse: "An old story says the lights are the souls of our ancestors, those who've left us...on dark nights when it's still...they come out to look down at us, and let us know they still watch over us...and they like when we look up at them, so they wear their finest clothes, and they dance a waltz. See...?"

For a while, mother and son gaze at the aurora, comparing the lights to themselves--a flashy, rapidly moving light is Horst, for example, while a more muted, steadier light off to the periphery is Louis--before heading home to meet the others following their hunt.

Over the years, Ilse learns how to better handle Louis's social sensitivities to help him maintain his boundaries without feeling excluded, though she does make a false step here and there, such as when she conspires with Frau von Thiel in hopes of setting Louis up with her daughter, Katharina; turns out Louis and Katharina are merely good friends without any romantic feelings for each other, and Ilse learns the hard way that you can't force romance, and if you try to push someone like Louis they just stubbornly double down on their standoffishness. The humiliating fallout of this incident is outlined HERE; Ilse apologizes for her mistake, though Louis's fatalistic response that perhaps he's just meant to be alone, and nothing can change that, makes her heart hurt. She hopes that he's wrong about that, at least.

Louis and Katharina do grow closer, but merely in a brotherly/sisterly fashion, following the loss of Katharina's family in a fire; the von Dobermanns take in Katharina and her remaining help staff and she and Louis become nearly inseparable as he helps her through her grief. Ilse notices how often, Louis makes his best points without even saying a word; he's a skilled listener, and often that's all that's needed to resolve an issue. Katharina, in turn, seems to understand and accept his need for distance from others; she encourages him to accompany her when she socializes, yet never pushes him into interacting when he doesn't wish to. Ilse learns a few things watching the two teenagers at the occasional large Junker gatherings where the noble families reestablish old ties and forge new ones. When Katharina is present, Louis finally moves away from his corners and his spots near exits; she seems to lend him courage he otherwise lacks. Ilse worries sometimes that he'll become too dependent on Katharina's influence, though as it turns out, that never has a chance to happen.

Katharina eventually semi-parts ways with the von Dobermanns, returning to her nearby home (she's their closest neighbor) once the fire damage is fixed; she declines their offer to stay with them indefinitely, insisting that, as the last von Thiel, it's time for her to grow up and accept her place. Ilse notices a subtle shift in Louis's attitude after Katharina leaves; he grows even quieter and more introspective, spending much of his time browsing the old family records or staring out the windows across the von Dobermann land. Ilse of course mistakes this for sadness over Katharina's departure from the household, yet when she tentatively asks him about it, he insists he's fine and he's not upset about her leaving, though he does admit that it's gotten him thinking about things. Ilse gently asks what he means. It's a little while before Louis replies, obviously choosing his words very carefully: "I've just been wondering, what is my place, my role in the family. She found hers, though she had no real choice. I have a choice...yet I'm not sure what it is." Ilse asks if there's anything she can do to help; Louis declines, though he makes sure she knows it isn't anything personal: "I think this is something I have to find out on my own." He reassures her she has nothing to worry about; whatever he decides, he'll be fine. He pauses before adding, "You helped me get here." He never makes such comments lightly, so Ilse is touched that he said it at all, and she gives him his space.

Horst returns breathless from a visit to the city one day, face pale and newspaper in hand; he unfolds it to show the others seated in the parlor. The Archduke of Austria has been assassinated. "It's all everyone in the city is talking about," he says as they peruse the paper in shock. "They think war could break out any day." Rudolf and Ewald start discussing plans to get the estate farm more operational and strengthen communication with the other Junkers so they won't have to deal with supply chain issues in the event of rationing, and they depart. Horst says he'll start reaching out to their neighbors for further news and also leaves. "Perhaps it's not so bad," Ilse tries to convince herself. "There's no war yet, maybe there won't be. Maybe cooler heads will prevail." Still, she suddenly doesn't feel well--"It must be this heat"--and lies down on the couch. Louis is left staring at the paper with a pensive look on his face. "Do you think it's a sign...?" he murmurs; "What...?" Ilse asks, but Louis just shakes his head. "Nothing," he replies.

Ilse is preoccupied with her thoughts for the next few days, and Louis doesn't make his plans known, so she's unaware of what he gets up to in the meantime. He spends a long night sleepless, staring at the canopy and thinking. He goes to visit Katharina, tells her the conclusion he's reached, and asks for her advice; she declines to give any, telling him that this is a decision he has to make on his own: "You won't always have someone there to help you decide." He then asks if she thinks he's foolish. "You're the least foolish person I know," she says, "which is how I know you'll make the right decision." She hugs him before he leaves, whispering in his ear, "You'd better write to me, or I'll track you down myself."

The next day, Louis asks Horst if he can borrow his car to drive into the city; he returns later that afternoon, seeming nervous but resolved. He tells his parents that he's enlisted in the army. They stare at him in silence for a moment, stunned; Ilse is of course the one to speak up first. "Louis," she exclaims, "the army...? You? But...you can hardly even pick up a gun. You haven't a violent bone in your body! You, a soldier--? How would you handle it? What would you do...?"

Even as she entreats him, she can see the stubborn look enter his eyes, and knows she's losing him. "Ilse," Rudolf says, touching her shoulder, "give him a moment to explain himself, ja? Let him speak." But also: "Louis. Are you sure of this...? This is a very serious decision, are you sure you've thought it through...?"

Ilse bites her tongue. Seeing that they're willing to let him explain, Louis does so. Ilse had reassured him that whatever path he chose would be his to take; well, this is the one. It's a longstanding custom for the younger son in Junker families to enter the army while the older son stays to carry on the family line; he feels he can do more good this way rather than sitting at home. He'd already been pondering this option in the days following Katharina's return to her home (thus all his poring over the old family records, reading the accounts of all the soldier-ancestors who'd gone before), but the news Horst brought finally decided him. Louis isn't typically a superstitious sort, he's pretty agnostic, but this dreadful news arriving when it had seemed almost like a sign. He'd watched Katharina grow up and move on on her own, taking responsibility for her own life and forging her own path; well...now it's time for him to do the same.

Rudolf offers no argument. Ilse desperately wants to, yet knows it'll do no good; she's never seen him so certain of anything in his life, and the irony is that she's the one who taught him this. Sensing that they need the time, Rudolf excuses himself to go inform Horst and Ewald, leaving mother and son alone. There's a long silence.

Louis: "You're disappointed."

Ilse: *wearily* "Nein...not disappointed, mein Stern."

Louis: "It's childish, but I'd hoped you would be proud of me."

Ilse: "I am, Louis, I'm always proud of you, you know that."

Louis: "Yet you don't seem so, now."

Ilse: "It isn't that. I just...I wish you'd found some other way."

Louis: "What other way? This is the way."

Ilse: "But how do you know--? How can you be sure--?"

Louis: "How can you ever be completely sure of anything? If I sit around waiting for the answer to come without any doubt, I'll be sitting forever. Sometimes, you have to take a leap. You have to face what you don't know. Katharina did."

Ilse: *exasperated* "Katharina!"

Louis: "And you, you'll tell me you never once took a risk--? Your whole life has been facing what you don't know, unafraid. Horst's life, Vater, Uncle Ewald. You've all gone through life unafraid. When I was little you tried to convince me to do the same. And now when I do, you ask me to find some other way...?"

Ilse: "Liebe, we've NEVER gone through life unafraid. To do so is foolish! We were afraid but acted anyway, in spite of it."

Louis: "And that's exactly it. Maybe I don't know everything I'm getting into, but I'm doing it anyway. That's how you move forward, ja? At some point, every ancestor took a leap."

Ilse: "Not every ancestor! Some didn't fight. Some started families."

Louis: "Starting a family is a leap. It takes courage. Doesn't it?" *Ilse is silent* "That doesn't look like the path that's open to me. And I accept that. Horst can take that path, if he wishes. He's the eldest; the family line goes through him. This, this is my path. I've thought it through. I'm afraid, ja, I admit it. But you just said. It's foolish to go through life completely unafraid. Just as foolish as letting the fear keep you stuck in one place. You told me to find my own path. I think I've found it. If I'm wrong, then I'm wrong. But how else am I supposed to find out...?"

Ilse: *long silence, eyes downcast* "My heart aches, Louis, wondering how you're going to handle it. You're not a soldier. Taking up a gun seems to be against everything you stand for."

Louis: "I don't even know what I stand for, aside from our family. But if this is what it takes to keep you safe..." *trails off; they both look at each other* "You've all always watched over me. Now it's my turn to watch over you. If you were in my place, wouldn't you do the same?"

Realizing that Louis's choice has very little to do with nationalist pride, and everything to do with ensuring the family stays safe, Ilse has nothing left to say. She's heartbroken, but accepts his decision, understanding the role she herself played in him reaching it. He assures her not to worry about how he'll handle combat or even just the everyday experiences of interacting with his fellow soldiers: "I'll figure it out, you prepared me for that." The whole family accompanies him to the train station to see him off; Ilse presses a small gold ring into his hand although he protests, "Mutter, a woman's ring--?" "To remind you," she explains; "to remind you to come home to us." She embraces him--"I'm so proud of you, always," she whispers so only he can hear--then stands back with Rudolf's hand on her shoulder and tears in her eyes as Louis boards the train. He peers out the window at them and holds his hand up to the glass; the rest of the von Dobermanns raise their hands to wave goodbye, and Ilse's eyes finally spill over as the train carries her baby boy away to training.

A month later, Germany goes to war.

Ilse agonizes over the papers. These are the only real means of updates, and they're of course always out of date by the time they hit the shelves. She--and Katharina--practically fall upon the first letters Louis sends them from the Western Front. Surprisingly, he finds himself quite suited to military discipline; although he still isn't big on socializing, he handles group interactions well, as long as he has his orders and knows what he's expected to do. He hasn't seen any real combat yet, though he expects that to change soon. He's about as terse in writing as he is when speaking, so the letters aren't especially lengthy, though both women cherish any word they can get from him. Ilse tells herself to prepare for very long waits in between communications, and tries her hardest to be patient and keep herself busy in the meantime; this includes tending to the plants in the household's solarium. Louis always loved the solarium, especially the large ash tree at its center, extending up through the different stories of the house. Ilse hopes for the war to end and Louis to return soon so they can wander among the greenery again.

The Great War drags on for four long years. Louis never has the chance to return home even for a brief visit; despite Ilse's and his own doubts, he repeatedly proves himself and quickly rises through the ranks, becoming a Hauptmann, or captain. This leaves him little free time, meaning he sends fewer letters as well. Ilse has the impression that the war is wearing on him but he doesn't wish to complain; she reassures him in her own, more frequent letters, which he lets her know he appreciates, even if he can't always respond. She still can't help but worry about him, but she's exceptionally proud of his accomplishments, especially when she remembers the way he flinched at the mere sound of gunshots on the hunt so long ago. "My baby boy has grown up," she murmurs to Rudolf as they sit in the parlor reading his latest letter.

Horst and Ewald continue their visits to the city for news. Ewald is dull and listless following one visit, and heads to bed early. He develops a fever, then a cough. Shortly after, Rudolf, who hadn't been to the city, comes down with the same symptoms. Horst and Ilse put them both to bed and tend to them, their alarm slowly growing as members of the help staff and farm start falling ill in quick succession. Ilse, sleeping separately from Rudolf now, wakes one morning with a distinct chill and knows that whatever it is, she's caught it, too. She still feels well enough to get around, though, and they're starting to run short handed, so she and Horst keep seeing to the others. They put on cloth masks while doing so, casting each other fearful looks; the papers, upon Horst's and Ewald's last visit, had been reporting on some sort of nasty bug making the rounds, but they hadn't had any reason to think it would make its way out here. Ewald got sick so very fast.

Ewald's and Rudolf's health deteriorates rapidly; they can hardly stop coughing, and keep gasping for breath. Ilse develops a cough too, and Horst calls a doctor they know. He says he can't come out to the estate--the illness is already tearing through the city, and they need all the help they can get--so if they need to see him, they'll have to come back to the city. Katharina stops by; Ilse has a member of the help staff inform her through the door that nobody's well enough to see her, and they don't want her getting sick as well, so she heads back home. Ilse hopes that they can simply recover at home, but while tending to the others she notices the flush in Horst's face and presses her hand to his forehead--"You're burning up!" she exclaims in alarm--and finally decides they have to head to the city. Horst, still the best off of the four of them, insists on driving them there, and they manage to bundle the coughing and wheezing Rudolf and Ewald into the back seat. He promises the chief of the help staff he'll return as soon as he can to pick up the staff members in the worst shape and transport them to the city as well; helps his gasping mother into the front passenger seat; then speeds off toward the city as fast as the car can go.

It takes over an hour to reach the city and the hospital, which is alarmingly busy with scores of hacking, blue-lipped patients. Ilse frets that they'll never get help but Horst manages to locate the doctor, frantically directing him to the car--"My Vater, my uncle, they're dreadfully ill, my Mutter isn't doing so well, bitte, help them"--then collapses. All four of the von Dobermanns are carried inside on stretchers, only Ilse half conscious by now, and put to bed. Ilse swims in and out of consciousness for a time before she awakes, hot and cold and coughing, struggling to breathe. All that happened suddenly hit her all at once and the force of the realization woke her. She asks where her family is, what's going on.

The doctor, wearing a mask, fills her in: She and her entire family have caught the flu. "Flu--?" Ilse gasps, confused. This doesn't feel like any flu she's ever had before. Additionally, the doctor informs her, Ewald, Rudolf, and she have developed pneumonia. As for Horst, he doesn't have pneumonia, but the virus seems to have hit him quickest and hardest of all; his blood pressure has plummeted, his fever has skyrocketed, and he's delirious. None of it makes any sense to Ilse--it's just the flu, all of them are healthy, especially Horst, all he had was a fever, he drove them there, how did this happen so fast--? The doctor starts to explain that this is an especially awful flu that's been sweeping through the army and multiple countries; unlike other flus, it seems to be targeting younger, healthy people like Horst, turning their own immune responses against them. There have been multiple reports of people waking up with a slight cough...and dropping dead by nightfall. Normally, this would be more than enough to alarm Ilse and make her demand to see Horst...but partway through the doctor's explanation she starts swooning, and again loses consciousness.

Then, deep in her fever dreams, her lungs heavy, she finds herself swimming through smoke--flails her arms to try to clear it away so she can breathe--and instead of a hospital room, she's standing in a watery trench, surrounded by skeletal trees, mud, and barbed wire. A soldier so covered in mud and dirt and blood that only his eyes are still white blinks at her, confused--"Mutter?" he says--and Ilse gasps herself awake before breaking down coughing. The doctor and nurses appear, grasping at her arms when she flails and tries to pull herself out of the bed. What the doctor had said earlier--about the illness sweeping through the army--finally hits home. She can't remember the last time she got a letter from Louis.

"My boy!" she gasps. "My baby boy...where's my boy? Where's my son?" "He's here," the doctor reassures her. "He's in another room. In another bed. He's here." But Ilse shakes her head--"Nein, nein, that can't be, my baby boy is in the army! Where is he?--where's my son...?" She wants to tell them--she's not talking about Horst, she's talking about Louis--her baby boy, in the army--where is he, is he sick too, or is he safe?--she hasn't gotten a letter in ages, is he sick?--is he well?--can they find him? She doesn't want him to return home and not know where everyone is. She can't bear for him to be all alone. She can't form the words to say all this, though, as the coughing and then the fever set back in. "Poor woman is delirious, she thinks her son's in the army," she dimly hears the doctor murmur, and, realizing that they have no idea she even has another son--that's right, he always kept to himself, he's easily forgotten--she wants to yell, Louis, Louis, Louis!--where is my Louis?...but is too far gone to do so. She loses consciousness yet again.

Ewald dies first, then Rudolf, both of them coughing and drowning in their own lungs. Horst goes next, the cytokine storm too much for his body to handle. Ilse holds on as long as she can, still crying for Louis--"My baby boy, my baby boy is in the army"--before the flu takes her as well. Within days of entering the hospital, in the blink of an eye, the von Dobermann family is snuffed out. The chief of the help staff, heartbroken, sends out a telegram and a letter which he expects will get nowhere, as the war grinds to an end and Germany surrenders and the army is thrown into chaos; all that's left is for those who are left behind to mourn the dead. A pall settles over the von Dobermann estate; the world slowly, wearily trudges on.

And then, one day weeks later, the hospital director and the mayor receive telegrams: Massive monetary donations have been sent to the hospital and the city, to help combat the pandemic. The telegrams bear the name L DOBERMANN.

[Ilse von Dobermann 2023 [‎Friday, ‎October ‎27, ‎2023, ‏‎3:00:47 AM]]

[TUMBLR NOTE: Again I have to fudge the posting time to 3:01AM because Tumblr posts multiple entries from the same time out of order even if the entry numbers are right.]

[emotionalsupportowl]

Ice Cream Disaster

Hey! I know this is super late but this is Day 4’s prompt from @analogicalweek !

Parent Analogical AU anyone??

The only warnings are mild overthinking at the beginning and horrible writing, also food!

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Virgil tapped his foot, waiting, checking that damn bus tracking app for the 10th time in the past minute. Where was he? Did the bus crash? Is his kid stuck on the side of the road? What if Patton got on the wrong bus and-

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of brakes squalling to a stop and the doors opening, a short, curly haired blond boy rushing out.

“Dad!” Patton giggles happily as he runs down the driveway to Virgil, waiting for his dad to kneel down before giving him a hug. “Dad! Dad! Roman gave me a friendship bracelet!”

“Oh he did? Lemme see.”

Patton grins as he holds out his arm, showing what seemed to be a strip of red construction paper taped together in a loop. Virgil couldn’t help but to smile at it. “Wow! That’s really cool Pat! Did you make him one?”

The six year old nodded excitedly. “Yep! It’s just like this one except it’s blue! We are gonna be bestest friends forever!”

Virgil chuckles, “I’m sure you two are. Say, how about we go down to the ice cream shop and get us an afterschool snack?”

A gasp was heard before a small squeal. “Yes yes yes yes yes!!! Ice cream!!”

Virgil smiles, ruffling his hand through Patton’s hair. “Okay, let’s go put your backpack up and then we’ll walk over, deal?” Of course Patton said yes, holding onto his dad's hand and basically dragging him into the house.

After Virgil had made sure his backpack was up, he grabbed his ‘Parent To- Go’ tote. Basically it’s Patton’s old diaper bag, but it has since been repurposed into carrying anything that Virgil or Patton could possibly need. A portable phone charger, first aid kit, a change of clothes… if you can think of it, Virgil most likely has it stuffed somewhere in this bag.

He slung the tote over his shoulder, making sure he had his phone and wallet before taking Patton’s hand and starting the ten minute walk to the ice cream shop.

They made it there with little to no problems (Just Patton wanting to pick the flowers from the sidewalk, delaying them by about five minutes). Virgil drops Patton’s hand to open up the door. Oh what a mistake that was.

“Eee! Roman!!” The little boy immediately ran into the shop, tackle-hugging another kid and causing an ice cream cone to fall out of presumably Roman’s hand.

Virgil rushed in after him, trying to pull Patton away but to no avail. At least neither of them seemed hurt, just the two of them giggling on the floor. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” He said to the taller figure as he bent down to clean up the mess, assuming that they were Roman’s guardian. “Here, I’ll buy him another cone-”

“Oh there is really no need. It was an accident, they were just excited.”

Holy- That freaking voice! Virgil glanced up to see a man squatting down beside him, handing him a few more napkins. “I’m assuming that you are Patton’s father?”

“Y- Yep, that’s me…” he nodded his head, taking the napkins and finishing wiping up the melted chocolate.

“What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, um- Virgil. My name’s Virgil.” He rushes out, smiling awkwardly, holding the drenched used to be napkins in his hands.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Virgil.” Logan said with a very genuine smile.

God, kill me now.

Virgil nodded slightly before turning away, walking off to the trash can. Was the only reason he did that to hide his blush? Yes. Did he hear very childish giggles after he did? Oh, 100 percent. He threw away the napkins before pulling out a baby wipe from his tote, wiping the sticky off his hands. After that, he makes the dreaded trip back over to…. “I never caught your name, by the way.”

“Logan. Logan Berry.”

He nods a little, smiling. “Well, Logan. I am still going to buy your son a new ice cream.”

The other man huffs, clearly annoyed at Virgil’s persistence. “Fine, I’ll allow it one one condition.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” He smiles more, taking a step closer to him.

Virgil swears he saw a smirk flash across his face before he settles back to his stoic expression. “I get your phone number.”

Play it cool, this is fine… except it’s totally not. “W-what? Why do you want my number?” He plays off his stutter with a small nervous laugh.

Logan smiles. “I’m sure our boys would love to have a playdate. I need your number so that we can determine when the best time is.”

Of course it was for the boys, why else would a cute guy want his number? Virgil shakes his head, trying to pretend he isn’t blushing as he pulls out his phone, handing it to him with the “Create New Contact” screen pulled up.

After a few moments of quick typing, Virgil’s phone is handed back to him with a wink. Is this what flirting is like??? Virgil has absolutely no clue as to how to process it so he just stands there, wide eyed. This apparently amused Logan, a soft chuckle filling the air and boy that did not help Virgil’s situation.

“A-anyway, what cone did Roman have? I’ll get his when Patton chooses out a flavor… which might take awhile, honestly.” He chuckles, looking up at the taller male.

He was met with a soft smile, “Just plain chocolate.”

“Daaaaad, I want cookie dough please!” Patton gently tugs on his hand, smiling brightly up at Virgil.

“So that’s one cookie dough and one chocolate ice cream, right Roman?” Virgil asked, knowing how fast kids can change their mind.

“Mhm! Thank you!” Roman beams.

“Awe, such good manners..” Virgil smiles, ruffling both kids' hair before waking over to the cashier to get their cones, occasionally glancing back at them.

A few minutes later, Virgil comes back with two ice cream cones. “How about we go sit down and eat up our ice cream, kiddos?”

Both boys rush over to a booth, leaving the two adults chuckling as they walk over. Virgil hands Roman his ice cream cone before taking a seat next to Patton and carefully giving him the remaining cone.

“Dad, are you and Roman’s dad gonna get married?”

Logan seems to get choked at the same time Virgil does, “W-What? What makes you ask that, Pat?”

“Because you like like each other!” Roman giggles out, getting ice cream all over his face.

Virgil’s face feels like it’s on fire. “Well, I’m not so sure about that..”

“And even if that is correct, there are many other steps before marriage…” Logan interjects.

“Like what?” The boys tilt their heads.

Virgil takes a deep breath, trying. “Well they talk for awhile… and go on dates…”

“Then go on dates!” Patton exclaims as if it was the most simple thing ever.

Just as Virgil was about to explain, Logan speaks up. “That would be up to Virgil and I. Not our nosy little boys.” He smiles as he leans over, tapping each of their noses, leaving both of them giggling.

Virgil was just in complete awe. This guy is not only very attractive, well spoken, and showing interest in Virgil, but he is also great with kids?! What’s the catch?

“You alright there, Virgil?” He gets snapped out of his thoughts,

“Y-yeah, I’m good..” he smiles, undoubtedly blushing only to be called out by more childish giggles.

“Dad! He made you red!” And of course that only made him blush more.

“I know, kiddo… just eat your ice cream-”

[thousandsunnywrites]

How about law meeting a girl who has the same energy as Luffy and tends to touch him in some way all the time, her favorite being ridding on his back. He has long since given up trying to get her to stop, only to find out when he teams up with the straw hats she’s Luffy’s sister by blood. The oldest of Ace Sabo and Luffy.

Law

Law x f!reader; romantic

⤷ a/n: g o l l y this ficlet was a whopping 2.7k words 😭😭i really do love picking on law; also ps this isn’t proofread yet so enjoy the rawness ty

----

“traaafFFFYYYY!” He stumbles forward to balance the sudden weight tossed on his back, hands instinctively grabbing the legs wrapped around him. His life was never like this, until you came around.

It was a regular night in the submarine, Law doing his routinely watch through the sub’s finder. What the hell is that, he zoomed in to get a better view of the blurry image, hm, what is that?

He found a floating bucket under the sea with a tightly sealed lid and a hole carved on the upside with a plastic straw sticking out. Confused and hoping it was some lost gold, he made Bepo fish out the container and check it out. Instead of finding what he hoped to uncover, he discovered a limp body of a young female.

“It’s not breathing, captain! What if it’s been purposely tossed into sea... what if...” his words begin to trail off when the horrid realization of the sea being the graveyard to rest the corpse crossed his mind. He shrieked. They messed with the dead! They’re going to die! He watched too many Asian horror films to know where this is going.

Not before long, Law sighed out of annoyance, moving Bepo’s paw from the right side of the chest to the left, instantly calming down his tremors and leaving the poor bear sheepish.

Footsteps approach Law’s office and busted through the door. Low and behold, it was no other than Penguin and Shachi.

“Cap’n!! What’s wrong? We heard Bepo scream!—” Penguin tugged on Shachi’s sleeve, forcing his attention to the corpse curled in the bucket. Bepo covered both mouths before a squall was ripped from their throats, “Shh... it’s alive.”

“Room,” the iconic blue sphere encapsulates the room as Law unsheathes his Kikoku, “Scan.” The sliver glint of the sword flickered against the blue hue as it perused the physique. Producing no results, he sheathed his sword. “None” was all he could report.

“Oh thank god!” Penguin leaned over the large wooden pail, examining the face of the woman. “She’s kinda cute,” his hand reaches out to caress her cheek. “Mind if I say that I saved her?” He bantered with a sly smile.

“Move outta the way, lemme see!” Shachi shoved Penguin, an instant grin apparent inside his face.

“Stop fucking around.” Law jostled the apologetic duo to hoist majority of the body’s upper half out the bucket. “Bepo-ya, grab the feet”

“Roger!” He saluted before doing as told.

“Pen-ya, Shachi-ya,” their attentions turned to him, responding with a “Yes, boss?”, to which Law replied, “Get out.” As they left, the captain and first mate transfer the patient to the resting ward and laid her on a more comfortable bed.

“Catch some sleep, Bepo-ya.”

“What about you Captain? Who’s gonna watch her if she wakes up?”

“I will. Go ahead and sleep. Lack of sleep isn’t good for your fur.”

Bepo bowed, trusting all will go well since the captain was watching over her, and left to do as told. Meanwhile, Law pulled out a chair and raised his feet atop the bed. It was going to be a long night.

Surely, he must’ve fallen asleep because next thing he knows, he’s the one in bed and his crew bustled in the kitchen. It was a different ruckus this time; it wasn’t the same morning liveliness he knew, no, it was something more like... a party?

He made his way to the kitchen, head slightly pounding due to the loud vibrations bouncing off the walls. Swinging the kitchen door open, he’s faced with a festive bunch surrounding a stranger. Who the hell is she and how’d she infiltrate my ship?

Now on alert, he reached for his sword, preparing to attack but was stopped by his lovable white bear, who had multiple syrup stains resting on his fur. “Captain!!! Look!! She’s awake!!”

Who?

Oh yeah, the bucket girl.

“Yeah man that was suuuuperrrr crazy! I really thought I was gonna die out there!” A guffaw rumbled in the room, the crowd listening intently to what you have to say, “dude there was this big—and I mean big— whirlpool! With nowhere else to go, I just hid in a good ol’ barrel and hoped for the best.”

“Woah, you’re so cool Y/n!” The crew chanted as Law made his way through the crowd, sitting rightfully at his bench, head against his propped up hand.

“Hey, you must be the captain!” You greeted him with a hearty laugh while you reached over to the opposite side to pat his back, unintentionally thrusting his body forward with every rough pat.

“Don’t touch me,” he pulled away and dusted himself off, “I take it you’re better. Any pain?”

Completely ignoring his question, you continued, “Yeah how rude of me, I’m Y/n!!! I’m sorry for intruding so suddenly, it’s just I thought I was gonna die out there because—“

He held up a hand and finished the same sentence you said prior, “Yeah, yeah, there was a whirlpool and you thought you were gonna die, so your pea-sized brain said to stuff yourself in a barrel and hope for the best, yes, I’ve heard it earlier.” He said all in one breath. This amount of stupidity reminded him of a certain captain he was supposed to meet soon.

Instead of feeling offended, a big cackle bursted in the suddenly tense room. “I like you!” Slamming down your fist on his table as a sign of determination, he saw that same look of craze. Oh, how he could never forget that gaze.

“From here on out, I’m your crewmate now.” Cheers erupted from your mates, picking you up in rejoice to congratulate your recruitment.

“No, everyone quiet. You are not a part of my crew. Find yourself another place to loiter in. We don’t accept stowaways here.”

“Yeah no, it’s fine! I’ve been looking for a crew anyways.”

“I am captain of this ship and when I say I will toss you overboard if you insist you’re a Heart Pirate, I will toss you—”

“Y’all I’m hungry, got any food? Preferably meat, yeah?”

“Do not feed her.”

They feed you anyways despite his protests. He didn’t need another one like him on his ship, let alone in his crew.

“By the way, what’s your name Mr. Captain?” A piece of meat was ripped right off the bone. What a slob, Law grit his teeth, and as if I’ll accept her messy behavior. I’m tossing her right off the sub when she’s done.

“It’s Trafalgar Law!” Penguin chimes in, beating the captain to his own introduction. He grunts in annoyance. “Address him as Captain or doctor,” added Bepo.

“MMmmmmm,” your face twisted comically after a brief ponder, “Too boring, how ‘bout Lawsy?”

“No.”

“Trally?”

“Not a chance.”

“Gar.”

“Just shut up, I’m losing brain cells from you. Address me accordingly.”

“Okay, Traffy.” You burped as you chugged down the last of the juice.

Law could only sigh, because even if he threw you overboard, he’d still be stuck with you.

And that’s how it all circles back to Law giving you a ride on his back while walking along in the designated plaza. This is how his normal looks like nowadays. And nowadays, he doesn’t complain, even if he hates being ordered around, he just does it. His crew speculates him having only a soft spot for you, but he denies it every time. It was obvious though.

Today was the day he and Luffy agreed to meet at Dressrosa to take down that son of a bitch named Doflamingo. Everything was going as plan.

“Hey, Tra-guy!” The strawhats called putting from the other end of plaza, stirring a commotion contrasting the daily chatter of the citizens. He scans around and only sees Zoro, Usopp, Robin, Franky out of the troublesome gang. Where’s Luffy?

His grip tightened to hold you in place after your legs thrashed around in excitement, that never leaving irksome grin plastered on your features as always. “Stay still,” he sneered as he forced your legs to settle.

“Woah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Y/n,” Usopp whispered to Nami, to which she nodded in agreement.

“My, they have gotten quite close,” Robin’s chuckle was covered by her hand.

“Wow!” Franky drawled out, his stance in his usual super pose, “Since when did you two get together?” The glint of his shades gleamed as Law approached.

Law simply responded with a “Never” and carried on with discussing the plan that Luffy and most likely his crew won’t follow suit—but it was worth a shot. Hell, he didn’t even bother to explain it to you, knowing you’d do your own thing anyways like what you were trying to do now.

“Traff, Traff, Traff!” With every chant, you kicked your legs outwards to catch his attention.

“What, what, what.” He propped his arms upwards to readjust your sagging position caused by the sudden movements. The strawhats paused their chatter, noting that the stoic doctor had no sign of vexation on his face. That was a first.

“I’m hungry,” you smooshed his cheeks together. With a lilt, you asked, “Food?”

He casually nods, telling you “Later”, inattentive to the cheek smooshing and now cheek pulling. Nobody said anything, but it was obvious he had a soft spot. I mean, nobody can touch him—let alone his face— like that. If they tried, they’d be in a million pieces.

“Guys!!” The scream approached fast along with a mob of angry citizens following, “Got the meat! Now run!” The strawhat captain zoomed by, dragging the rest of his crew and allies along with him until stopping at a hidden alleyway.

During the time of escape, you hung your head down as Law transferred you from his back to his chest, face-to-face, in one swift motion, so you never caught a glimpse of the runner.

“‘Eyyyy, Tra-guy! Didn’t even notice you’re here!” The man gnawed on his meat while stuffing the leftovers into his big orange bag.

“Glad to see you too, Strawhat-ya,” he greeted back, eyes meeting with yours for a hasty second before trailing his gaze to your relaxed lips. It was intimate, seeing you close to him, bodies pressed together, arms around his neck and waist whilst his rested on the underside of your thighs. You and him always been together since the day he was held at gunpoint to recruit you, so it was normal for him to have some form of physical contact, whether it’d be hand holding to prevent you from straying away or the constant elbow hitting the back of his head while you whistled a verse or two. Giving you piggyback rides was common, so why did his heart start racing? This is what he always did, what was so different that could make him feel heated?

His chain of thoughts broke when you ripped yourself off of him to hug Luffy. “It’s been so long,” the shorter make cried, “I missed you Y/n! So nice seeing you out here! Especially with Tra-guy.” Seemingly impossible, your arms drew him tighter to you. “I missed you Luffy. God, I’m so happy to see you alive, I read all those articles. Really making big moves out there, kiddo.” Dramatic tears flowed out both his and your eyes, basking in the nostalgia and memories you shared.

To you, it was a touching moment; but to others, it was a cloud of confusion.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Usopp’s question dripping in disarray. But, their confusion was unparalleled to Law’s. That’s who you reminded him of—Luffy. He fell in love with someone who’s basically Luffy. He fell in love with Luffy’s sister. He fell in lo— no. No he’s not in love, what is he thinking?

“Huh, that’s a shocker,” Law’s lips were dry, mouth slightly agape as he watched the two monkeys hit it off.

Parting ways as the sun retired for business, Law took you to the hotel he had a reservation for. He was definitely gonna ask about Luffy. Grabbing the keys, it was a nonstop travel to the bedroom. Gotta hand it to Mingo, the bastard is a sick fck but he has some classy taste. The hotel was flooded with the natural shine of the moon, decorations silk and simple to compliment each other and the luxurious smell that was hard to miss.

Immediately upon entering the room, the first thing you checked was the fridge, searching for sweets whilst Law leaned idly against the doorframe as he watched.

“Yes, they have kinder eggs,” you shoved an egg in his field of view, “See?” He lowered your hand away from his face and ran his calloused fingers against his hair. It was a long day today, and he was tired as hell, but in this moment, all he wanted to do was to watch you.

“Want some?” Already munching on the Cadbury you found, you waved your face in front of his to break his daze.

“What?”

You simply pointed and broke off a piece to lay it against his outstretched palm.

“No wonder you seemed familiar to me,” he started, “You’re his sister.” Responding in a hum, he continued, “How did that happen? Sister by blood or by choice?”

“By blood dummy,” you popped a jawbreaker in your mouth, “We grew up together. If Ace and Sabo were being a jackass, I’d beat their ass flat. They were such bad influences! But seemingly in a good way..? They were like brothers to me too, ha, I was kinda like their mom if you really think ‘bout it,” Your mouth stopped sucking as the words you said became more and more sentimental. “I miss them. Ace, Sabo, and Luffy. But I’m happy. I guess it’s just... with everything... it’s nice seeing him alive and laughing. Enjoying life. And happy! Must’ve been hard on him all by himself. Besides, I can’t bear to lose another brother, not again.”

“I understand,” naturally that was his response, being that he could empathize since he did lose a sibling, a mother, and a father—twice— because of people. The world was fucked up. No other words were exchanged, effectively ending that convo.

You dug through the multiple bottles of wine, haphazardly throwing them away to search for more candy. A set of hands joined you on this search, crouching right beside you.

“Seems like you need help.” He offered a tiny, yet genuine, smile, to which you smiled back.

After endless digging, you found a can of whip cream and laughed as you sprayed a heaping load on the doctor’s nose before running around. He chased after you, grunting and hitting his long limbs against the small obstacles you placed, and lost you after he moved said objects to clear the path. You climbed onto the wall and pounced on his back, causing him to fall down completely, the cream crushed against his pointed nose and marbled floor.

“I win,” you sat on him as he struggled like a caught spider underneath your weight.

“Okay, I concede. Get off me.”

You flipped him over so his face was towards the ceiling, which was dark after you turned off the lights, and laid back on his chest. His chest had a subtle, yet rhythmic rise to it and made you fall asleep without trying too hard. You peeped a sigh of content before snoring away.

He admired how peaceful you looked when he wasn’t busy babysitting you. The moonlight doused your features in a soft light, turning even the harsh features into something delicate like a flower. The way your lips parted to let out obnoxious snores, the way your hair is tousled in a perfectly imperfect manner, the way your eyelashes contrast your skin tone, the way how there’s something about this moonlight that makes him wanna just lean down and plant a chaste kiss on your lips.

So he does.

You barely felt it graze against yours.

His hand caressed your hair with feathery light touches and his other brushed against your cheek.

Only the moon knew about the endearing look hidden in Law’s eyes that night; it was that same endearing look that showed he was in love.

[champagne-bucky]

The Undoing: Two

Summary: The truth about a past life is unveiled.

Warnings: THIS IS A DARK STORY!! dark! Steve Rogers x reader, kidnapping, non con and dub con (or at least mentions of), dark! Bucky Barnes, Stockholm syndrome, grooming, mentions of pregnancy termination and suicide mentions (for one chapter), possibly more tags to be added!

Notes: Welp, it’s here. Hope you guys enjoy chapter 2. There is one more chapter explaining the background of the story and our main character. Hope you all enjoy!! Please make sure to like, comment, reblog, inbox, and follow me for more! Enjoy :)

PLEASE READ WARNINGS!!

*Eight Months Later*

You were in pain. So much fucking pain that you thought you were about to combust from the inside. The contractions started early in the afternoon yesterday. Steve was being stubborn and said that it wasn’t time yet and that the baby will be born on its due date. However, the baby was having other plans.

“Steve,” you tried to scream up to the kitchen. Hopefully he wasn’t out.

“STEVEEEEEEE,” you screamed as loud as you could. You didn’t even know what time of day it was.

Following your obnoxiously loud screams, you heard a series of footsteps from upstairs coming to the basement. The bastard at least gave you a cot to sleep on since you were getting bigger.

“What do you want,” if you weren’t in so much pain you would’ve notice how he barked at you.

“So much pain. I’m in so much pain. I think the baby is coming,” tears were in your eyes as another contraction hit you.

“Sweetheart, the baby isn’t supposed to be here for another two weeks. I think it’s just something that you ate and now your stomach is upset,” he tried to be comforting but in reality he was tired and annoyed you woke him up.

Just as you were about to say something, you felt a gush of water from in between your legs. You screamed out loud and Steve looked bewildered at the sight in front of him.

“Fuck, fuck, fucking shit, fuck. It’s too early. They aren’t ready,” Steve became frantic as he found the key in his pocket to unchain you.

To get up the stairs was a major dilemma. Every step was like climbing a mountain. Eventually, Steve got tired of how slow you were taking and just ended up picking you up and taking you out to his car.

He got on the phone and dialed up Bucky to meet him at the hospital. You found out that the two were never father and son. They were just posing as ones at work events and family parties that were being thrown. It was just all a scheme to get you.

The pain was doing a number on you. At one point you were finally able to fall asleep, but not until you heard Steve make another phone call.

“Hey, it’s time. Get them ready,” was all you heard from your kidnapper before you passed out.

_________

Hospitals were always a scary place to you. Ever since you were 16, you tried to avoid them as much as possible. Well, this hell hole might just work as your saving grace.

Steve had never taken you out anywhere, not even to get the baby checked by doctors. Knowing him though, he probably did all his evil deeds when he gave you things that made you sleep easier at night.

“When we get in there you so much as utter a single word about anything and I’ll make sure you’ll regret it,” Steve warned you before he ran in to get you a wheelchair. You couldn’t even register the feeling of fear for the wave of contractions hitting you.

Soon enough, you were in a hospital bed and were propped up on stirrups. The nurse had put an IV in you and Steve refused to leave your side. From what the nurses told you, you dilated really fast and baby Rogers wanted to come out now.

Never in your life had you experienced a pain worse than this one. The doctor and Steve yelled at you to keep on pushing, but you felt so numb you didn’t think you were doing anything. Steve squeezed your hand hard because he was getting impatient about meeting his baby.

Notice, his baby. He made sure that during this whole pregnancy that the baby you were carrying was his, not yours or ours. This was his way of breaking you down. Rightfully so, it was starting to work. During those months, you found yourself asking him to stay a little longer after sex. Asking him to hold you for a second longer. You didn’t think that you would succumb to the situation so easily. Well, now that the baby is almost here you need to do what’s best and protect it.

“I see a head!” The doctor yelled and she urged you to keep on pushing. “C’mon, Mama Rogers, just a few more pushes and you get to meet your baby!”

You couldn’t remember the last painful moments of childbirth until the tiny squalling newborn was being placed in your hands. The little babe was still covered in God knows what, but it didn’t matter. The little thing screaming and crying ignited a light inside of you that you thought had died a long time ago.

“It’s a girl! Congratulations mommy and daddy,” the doctor finished cleaning you up and another nurse took the baby girl to get cleaned up, your baby girl.

Steve still had a grip on your hand as he refused to leave your side. He stayed stoic when the doctor announced the sex of your baby girl. “I wanted a boy,” Steve mumbled before walking over to the nurses that asked him if he wanted to see the baby.

Internally, you smirked to yourself with the little bit of strength that you had left in you. He didn’t get what he wanted this time around. Steve Rogers would have to live with the fact that he couldn’t have the control on one thing in your life.

“Have we thought of a name yet?” A young nurse comes over to you and Steve.

“No, I’m going to need a little more time for that,” Steve answered before you got a chance to. As much as you didn’t want to raise a child, let alone Steve’s, you had thought of a perfect name for the baby.

“Well,” the nurse seemed unfazed by Steve, “we are gonna bring baby girl down to the nursery while we let momma rest. Want to bring some family over as well?” The nurse did not put her eyes on you once and only directed questions to Steve.

Steve left along with your baby girl. He gave you a “loving” kiss on the top of your head and gave you a warning glare. Once you were all alone you got straight to work, you pressed the nurse call button and hoped that the nightmare was ending tonight.

________

“There she is,” Steve tried his best to perk up while he showed Bucky the little newborn.

“She’s beautiful, Steve. Congratulations,” Bucky admired the adorable little girl squirming in her crib.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” Steve paused for a moment. That’s all he would need before he asked Bucky the worst possible question a new father could even conjure up.

“You want her,” Bucky snapped his head at Steve. He chuckled at first thinking that Steve was just nervous about fatherhood and all, but the face he made that went along with his question was completely serious.

“Steve, you can’t be serious now, what makes you wanna do that?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t feel right,” Steve simply shrugged.

“What do you mean? I’m sure Y/N isn’t ready to be a mother either, but you guys can work it out. I know you-”

“Something isn’t right...about her,” Steve looked at the baby.

Bucky was confused as he eyed up Steve and the baby that was being taken away by a nurse for feeding time with you. “Steve,” Bucky chuckled warily, “you think a half and hour old newborn baby is capable of what exactly? World domination?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve turns to Bucky with wide eyes. Bucky thought the man was having a psychotic break.

“I know what I’m talking about. There’s something about that thing,” Bucky gasped.

“Steve, don’t call her that, she’s your daughter,” Bucky spoke above a whisper.

“Then why don’t you take her then?” Steve almost growled at Bucky when a nurse hurried over and tapped Steve’s shoulder.

“What?” Steve barked at the nurse.

“Mr. Rogers, it’s your wife. She’s doing what you thought would happen,” Bucky was left in the dark at this statement.

“That fucking bitch,” Steve stormed passed the nurse leaving Bucky to look at the rest of the newborns.

___________

“Please, please, if you just listen to me,” tears were streaming down your face as the nurse kept dismissing your revelation. She kept trying to push the baby towards your breasts, but you kept pushing back trying to explain to her your situation.

“One of you go get the father,” the nurse yelled as one scurried out into the hall.

“No, no, please don’t get him. Get me out PLEASE,” you were screaming hysterics as the nurse yelled at everyone to clear the room.

“You're having crazy thoughts, my dear. We can give you something after you’ve fed the baby,”

“NO! PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU CALL SOMEONE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!” You were full on wailing as you tried to grab the nurse.

Steve walked in. His smile was kind and patience towards the nurse. You missed it, but for a millisecond his eyes were on yours with a fear of God hidden behind them.

“I’ve got her. You take the baby, I wanna talk,” the nurse yanked herself away from you and tore the now screaming baby from your arms.

You were left alone with Steve. The room was quiet all for your whimpers. Steve stalked his way over to you with the death glare clouding his once blue eyes.

He didn’t say anything. His breathing got heavy and his fists were clenched real tight. It was a moment later, but the next sound to fill the room was the sound of the smacked flesh of your cheek. The tears flowed more and your whimpers turned into screams for help. Steve grabbed you by the hair and smacked a hand to your mouth.

“I told you. I fucking TOLD you you’d regret it if you pulled something like this. After everything I’ve done for you. After everything I gave you! You know what? Say goodbye to the baby, she’s gone!” You screamed through Steve’s palm as loud as you could, but he only slammed you into the pillow of the hospital bed. Your screams and pleas were muffled as you tried to beg Steve not to take away your baby girl.

“Shut up, SHUT UP,” Steve screamed at you and you tried your best to quiet down. “I’ll make a deal with you,” he drew away his palm.

“I’ll let you keep the baby, but you have to work for it. No slip ups, no more outbursts, no running away, no defying me. You break any of these rules Mrs. Rogers, I’ll ship this baby off to the farthest foster home in the country. That’s a fucking promise.”

That was the day the light died down in you entirely. There was no hope and you'd have to accept that. You had to keep it together. If not for you, then for the baby. All for her.

All for Sasha.

Tags to be added in comments!!

[windstormwielding]

@auburniivenus​ said via doctor who : impossible planet / satan pit … sentence starters (open!):

“So, a bit worse than a storm, then?”

“Well, the ones we see in Soul Society don’t get anywhere near as wild as those in the world of the living, at least from what I’ve heard!” Hence, the lieutenant’s appearance in Karakura Town on this windy day. One never knows if Hollows might try to take advantage of the upcoming squall, so why not send in the Gotei 13′s resident storm expert to check things out?

No, it wasn’t at all because he volunteered after being tipped off of the coming weather. Enthusiastically, at that. Perish the thought! He’s a professional, after all! Stoic, unmoving, setting a standard to be followed by all subordinate shiniga-

“Oh-! I almost forgot!” Probably not the sort of thing a lieutenant should admit out loud, but whatever! With a mental snap, Kōtarō quickly remembered why he stopped by the Kurosaki household to begin with. “Captain Kuchiki—Rukia—apologizes that she hasn’t been able to come by lately, though she wondered if maybe Kazui would want to come visit sometime?” A certain redheaded apprentice may have been asking about her son...

[firesign23]

#15. And I think you should do it for both Phrack and Braime. Cause I’m evil like that. 😘😈

Okay, the Phrack side of this answer is forthcoming. Hopefully soon. And the Braime fic barely fits the prompt, but you get what you get and you don’t regret. Or maybe you do, I’m not the boss of you.

send me a prompt and a character/pairing and I’ll write you a drabble or a ficlet

“When I’m with you, I’m home.” 

(Babyfic below the cut)

When he comes into their quarters at Winterfell, Brienne is standing before the fire, head bowed, wearing naught but a thin night shift. 

“You weren’t at dinner,” he says. “A tray will be sent up later.”

“Thank you. I had intended to join you, but…” She grimaces, a hand pressing against her back. 

“Are you–”

“Merely discomfort,” she says. “Nothing more yet. There’s no need to call the midwife.”

He cannot help but be sceptical, and she rolls her eyes fondly.

“They will fuss over me, confine me to bed. What I need for now is company, Jaime, and yours is better than most. You are at least exasperating in predictable ways.”

He laughs and crosses the room to join his wife, encouraging her to take a seat beside him. He’d never imagined himself here, marriage and fatherhood barely remembered dreams, and now he awaits the arrival of a lion in wolves’ territory. The pains come and go, marked at first with a slight tightening of her features or an unfinished sentence, and they wait. They talk about unimportant things in between, eat from the delivered tray, or sit in comfortable silence. 

“There is a birthing room in Evenfall Hall,” she says, during one of the lulls. “With an enormous glass ceiling, so that the future Evenstar is born beneath the night sky.”

She sounds wistful, to be so far away from her home in this moment, and he presses a kiss against her hair.

“And what of ones born during the day?”

“They wouldn’t dare,” she laughs, her mouth twisting as she shifts into a more comfortable position. “But the stars are always there.”

The hours pass and the pains grow more frequent, until she can’t bear to sit through them, shuffling around the room and swaying in his arms. He’s seen her in battle, roaring from the ramparts, and the stoic silences and near-silent moans are unexpected. But she seems in good spirits and insists that it is nowhere near the time yet, until a particularly bad one has her almost doubled in his arms. 

“If we leave it much longer, I will worry of leaving you alone,” he says, and she grits her teeth and nods, moving to lean over a table.

By the time he is back, and it is only minutes, she is groaning through every pain, rocking her hips, sweat beading along her hairline, the thin shift she’d been wearing discarded. She barely seems to register their arrival.

“Brienne,” he says as he draws nearer, once, twice without response, and so his mind supplies the only familiar alternative. “Brienne, to me,” he commands, as if this is a battlefield, and is relieved to see her eyes blink and focus on him. “We have to move you.”

“No bed,” she says adamantly. “This is the only way it’s bearable.”

He glances at the midwife, who looks displeased but isn’t actively saying no, so he nods.

“Alright,” he says. “But I’m staying. Great aurochs like you swoons and the poor midwife will be crushed.”

Said midwife looks appalled, but Brienne laughs before the next pain hits and she grabs onto him. And then it all goes so unbearably quickly and slowly at the same time; he watches her face contort with pain as she focuses her attention on the battle raging in her body, whispers words of encouragement in the brief moments between pains, offers to help her to the bed at the insistence of an increasingly irate midwife and backs her up when she says no. The groans turn to grunts and swallowed screams and the midwife is coaxing her to bear down, there’s a good girl, even though neither one of them seems to be paying her any attention, and then there’s a sudden shout and then silence, broken by the reedy squall of a newborn.

“A boy,” says the midwife. “Now will you please go lie down.”

They share an incredulous look and a laugh and there’s a baby, a son, and neither of them actually manage to see him until Jaime’s helped her to the bed, but then he’s there, tiny and red and rooting at his mother’s breast, his head so small that Jaime can cup it perfectly with his hand. He’s pretty sure they are both crying, though neither one of them says so, and eventually Brienne gives a small and pained exhale.

“Take him,” commands the midwife, swaddling the boy and handing him to Jaime in one smooth motion. “Now bugger off. She’s not bleeding heavily, but there’s still the after to deal with.”

Brienne rolls her eyes again and he kisses her, then carries the boy to the small window, where the last stars of night are still shining in the sky. He stands so the child can see them, though Jaime doubts he would know the difference. 

“Future Evenstar,” he murmurs, studying the boy’s scrunched features. A mighty burden for someone so small, but he will grow. They will do their best to make him a good man and a good leader, and that will have to be enough. 

The stars have been replaced by the first streaks of dawn when the midwife eventually declares herself done, and Jaime turns back to the bed to see a now-clothed Brienne watching him with the softest expression.

“No glass ceiling,” he explains, bouncing the sleeping boy softly, “but I thought I’d show him.”

She extends a hand and he sits beside her, handing the boy over. For someone so uncertain she was suited to motherhood, it sits on her well; she is beatific as she strokes the boy’s cheek, nuzzles his downy hair.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t be home,” he says. “I know you’ve missed it of late.”

She shakes her head, presses her lips to the babe in her arms, looks up at him with her eyes glowing in pure happiness.

“I’m home,” she says. “So long as I have you, I’m home.”

[starryskylullaby]

a new name

i’m real soft right now here’s some newborn baby feels from my asoiaf/GOT au ; w;

•

the labor was difficult, to say the least. after the queen’s miscarriage despite so much effort to conceive nearly two years ago it was suggested perhaps she could not bear children at all--but now after so much pain and blood, astaeria was rested against the pillows in her bed, sweat-soaked and weak, but with her son safely in her arms.

the maids were cleaning and the bloodied sheets were removed, and as the hand of the king stood nearby to watch, king lucerys settled to kneel on the bed beside queen astaeria as the newborn was washed to be given to her. perfect. a perfect child, a boy child. a prince--an heir, at last. he was a lusty little thing, lucerys thought, the two of them sitting and watching as their newborn squalled louder than a hurricane in the hands of the maester cleaning him. lucerys’ arm was around astaeria’s shoulders and his head rested atop hers as they settled together on their bed, and then their son was presented to them at last, still huffing and wailing until his mother cradled him to her breast and hummed softly to him, rocking him gently and shushing his cries.

astaeria held the little baby close, trembling hand stroking his tiny forehead, the little too-fine wisps of golden hair there. lucerys could only stare down at his son with pride threatening to burst his chest at the sight; finally he reached to nudge at the newborn’s cheek with a gentle knuckle. “look at him, asta,” he murmured, watching the baby sleep in his mother’s arms at last. “look at him. he’s perfect.” astaeria nodded, relief and love flooding through her body as she lay back with her son. “perfect. he’s perfect, lucerys. a perfect little dragon.” her voice was thin and soft, tired and strained from the hours of labor it had taken her to bring this little dragon into the world.

“what is his name, your grace?” came lord rambton’s voice from the bedside. he had a surprisingly gentle expression on his normally stoic face as he watched the queen with her son, and lucerys gave him a tired but very pleased smile. “a name...” he murmured thoughtfully, and asta rubbed the little baby’s cheek gently. “jahaerys. i would have named our first jahaerys,” she said softly, and lucerys’ grip around her shoulders tightened slightly, more of a comfort than any warning. “he is a new dragon, my love,” he told her gently, “he must have his own name.” asta was quiet, leaning into lucerys’ touch and resting her head tiredly against his shoulder as he gazed thoughtfully at their son. finally, “aerion.” the hand looks curious at this. “aerion?” “the name of the conqueror’s father.” lord rambton raises an eyebrow at this. “not ‘aegon’, instead?” lucerys shakes his head. “no,” he says firmly, “aerion. like the last of his name, he will see the birth of a great line of dragons as well.” he looks up at his hand of the king, and there was a tired pride in his eyes. “he’ll be a great king one day, val.” valerius took a quiet breath as he watched his closest friend, and his wife. asta smoothed the tiny prince’s hair down with a light, gentle hand, her eyes only for her baby. “everyone believed we could not have a child of our own,” she said softly, but fiercely. “here is our proof that they were wrong--and he will have his own children, his own dragons.” “perhaps he will be father to a new great conqueror,” valerius supplies, and astaeria smiles as lucerys kisses her hair and holds her close, filled with love for both she and their son. she rocks her baby gently, smiling down at him tenderly. “perhaps he will. but through him, our family will continue. our line will live on, and our son will be great as well.”

[ameasureofpower]

Scrapped Excerpt

( @epistaxisxjensen So three thoughts about you harassing Simons in the Revision Mod game. 1. GOOD. Deck him with that basketball! 2. I had a tiny blip of a dream ages ago where I held him back from entering my apartment. He wasn’t really pushing on the door but more like barring it from being closed somehow, and all I could really see were his eyes behind the door like he belonged in some human-version of a FNAF episode and I DIDN’T ENJOY THIS AT ALL. 3. Below is part of the scrapped fanfic I was writing…featuring doors and schme writing.)

… When the doorknob failed and her shoulder did little more than bruise itself against the living room door, her lungs began to struggle for air. The cement-walled structure did little to stifle her imagination of the violence occurring in the room beyond. The crashing, the scratching, the choking. She could hear her husband’s muted cries grow less coherent by the second. Time, like his voice, was running thin.



Nauseated with panic, the woman stumbles back from the door, a cold sweat dripping from her brow as her eyes tear towards the bedroom’s rain-battered window. The railings would be slippery and dark from the rain, and the fall lethal, but if she was careful she could nimbly skirt her way towards the living room, or call for help from there.

But the baby…



Her heart surges. Wide eyes shoot towards his small, crying form, which wiggles and kicks at the blanket covering his feet. Dare she risk the feat with him? Swept up with the instinct to hold and comfort the tiny boy, to keep him safe against her chest, she takes a step towards him, her fingertips brushing over his side just as the door explodes open behind her. Ambient light bursts across the bedroom floor and with it the shadowed form of a man who was in no way her husband. 

Within seconds the stranger’s rough hands rip the flashlight she swings at his head out of her hands and find a way around her ribs. With force they wrench her back and squeeze the breath from her already struggling lungs.



Like a wild dog her nails rake across his back, her teeth snap desperately at his shoulder and neck, and her bare feet kick frantically at his shins. 

The curse hissed by her ear goes unnoticed until the brutal grip tightens around her middle, and she is torn from ground. The colours of the world shift, and her head cracks against the vinyl floor.

Pain ricochets through her battered skull just before another stab of hurt pierces her side like a long barbed thorn. She could not scream. She could not breathe. Her body convulses and jolts on its own accord as warm metallic fluid fills her mouth and poison ravages her core. 
Beyond the darkness of the room she is held in, she could see her husband’s form, curled, still, and half upon the floor, and her eyes burn with tears.

Like a camera lens fruitlessly tries to focus on different depths, her vision fades in and out of obscurity. It takes a considerable deal of concentration for her to push herself up on her hands and knees, and distinguish the dark mass now hovering over her infant child.

 “Don’t. Get away from…him,” she coughs, futilely trying to raise herself and her volume above a terrifyingly quick lethargy.

 The figure ignores her pleas and takes the squalling child into his arms. She barely makes out the man’s reassuring coos above the sound of her own body sluggishly pushing through the chemicals that coursed within her. Ice phased into fire and her heart drew up beats like a heavy drum. “Oh…please…” she chokes, limply falling back against a wall. “Don’t hurt him.” She likens her skin to sandpaper scraping on stone.

 The man turns slowly, his gaze still focused on the child, who’s cries soften into a mewling now that he was held. Though bowed and shadowed, the young woman’s mind flickers with recognition and horror at the sight of the man’s face, now bathed in the pale blue light of the room beyond. “He’s a beautiful boy,” praises the assailant, dragging a fingertip across the child’s temple. “He will do a great many things…”

 A hot tear tumbles down her cheek and she rips her gaze away from his mockingly callous expression. “I know you…” Her lungs heave, desperately grasping for precious air. It should have hurt, but she was beginning to feel a chill, deeper than the one before, fall upon her body like a thick blanket of snow. “I know you…Why?”, she weeps bitterly, pained by betrayal.

 Again the man says nothing, but lifts his head to her question. His grey eyes shine wild and wicked in the ambient blue light - a far cry from his stoic, proper features. He approaches her slowly, each step echoing off the laminate flooring like a drum in her ears. She tenses, bracing herself for a kick in the gut or a hand around her throat, but instead of violence he treats her to something worse. Now on his haunches, he reaches forward, and the same fingertip that brushed against her son’s skin finds its way across her flushed cheek, lifting up a tear trickling down from the corner of a weakening eye.

 She did not have the energy to flinch from his touch, but her lip curls and her eyes skewer his kneeling form with rage.

 “Did you truly believe we would let you keep him?” he answers, rubbing the salty tear between his index and thumb. His level tone: curt and impatient. His gaze: accusatory.

 “We…” It takes her a second before her head falls back and her throat convulses with regret. 

Of course. Since when were the intentions of humankind, driven by the pursuit of power, pure and selfless?

 She laments, looking down through her lashes at the medical miracle that was the black haired bundle. How tiny the boy looked cradled within her killer’s arms. How beautiful those tiny hands and soft cheeks wet with tears. There were probably a hundred patents within him and a hundred possibilities before him. He was priceless in more ways than one. 

 A regretful grin breaks over her bloody lips as she stretches for her son, but her reach falls short of his crown. Shuddering, she watches with numbing helplessness as the world collapses into darkness.


[waypathfinder]

Crimson Lane - Chapter 24 - Waiting

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Chapter Text

"I always wanted you. Even when I did know what I wanted. Even before I knew you. It was you. You were the chapter that I didn't know the words to, but always knew it existed. and when I finally found it and began to read. I knew I was home."

Lightning charged through Rey's body. In the shadows, Ben's beaten form writhed forcing himself closer to her. He would never get close enough. He couldn't save her … not this time.

"Sorry." Those broken words choked out blood-stained and breathless.

Rey's eyelids flew open to see coloured lights and buttons, luminous green numbers ticking over with an unsteady blip: 147bpm, 148bpm, 149bpm.

Flashes of light speared through the window in sweeping curved patterns and beneath it all, the constant drone of rolling tyres on the road.

"Stop!"

She ripped at the wires hooked and stickers dotted around her chest until a gentle pressure at her waist made her pause.

"It's okay." The words were gentle as warm fingers coaxing her to lie down.

Rey slumped back into the gurney. "Leia…"

The older woman dabbed a warm washer at her brow.

"You passed out. But you're safe now."

"Ben!"

The heart rate monitors raced again. The last she had seen of him his head had been slammed into the pavement, police officers piling on top of him to secure him in cuffs — all the while, he'd never taken his eyes off her.

"Why—" she struggled to breathe, grief bearing down on her. "Why did he do that?"

"There was nothing you could do."

"No! We had the drive. Dom removed everything there was about him. He could have walked free and no one would have known who he was."

Leia's face paled. "Did he know this?"

"Yes! I told him—" Rey had to stop, each breath was catching in her chest, her stomach muscles clenched as she tried to hold back the tide of emotion threatening to bare down on her. "It was me—"

Rey's words were lost in a rush of heaving sobs, as she scrambled to wipe the tears and snot away from her face.

"He wanted this, Rey. He wanted to make it up to you, to me, to everyone."

"But he didn't need to. There was nothing to make up for!" She cried. "His sacrifice was pointless. I wanted him here with me, not—"

She tried to breathe, to slow, but it felt like her whole chest was caving in.

Leia pressed a hand onto Rey's stomach holding the bond between them, she didn't urge her to stop crying or soothe her. Instead, she just waited penitent and strong for the storm to pass.

Everything had been pent up inside of her for so long, and it was freeing to cry, and swear, to hate him for what he'd done—and love him.

Her tears emptied until there were none left to give. She grieved for everything: her parents, Plutt, Snoke, Kylo Ren...Ben. At some point in the night, she thought she heard Leia's cries too but when the squall had lulled, Leia looked just as resolved and strong, her only tell a small smear of mascara at the edge of her eyes.

Rey watched as Leia dabbed it away with a small mirror, her pose stoic and thoughtful.

You're always ready, Rey thought.

Leia stayed beside her as she fell in and out of consciousness, administering drips, adding blankets, checking monitors until at last Rey fell into an empty sleep.

Morning.

Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains. Rey blinked, once, twice, slowly waking into a warm, sunlit room. The smell of sea salt and wicker filled her, while from outside she heard the gentle hush of waves colliding on the sand, seagulls crying and quiet voices muttering as shadows passed along the bi-fold doors.

Through a crack in the curtains, she spotted a lighthouse on top of a rugged cliff, and beyond, the curved line of the horizon where the turquoise sea met a cloudless sky.

She pushed down on her hands, shuffling back against the headboard to get a better look. Every muscle in her body ached, the bruises raw and black from the night before.

The spacious but had a homely feel to it, with a white-glass desk, galley kitchen and tropical-style bathroom. There were suitcases by the door that did not belong to her. To the far right, a pair of wardrobe doors hung open, and inside was a line of summer dresses.

Did she have a vague memory of stumbling in here, last night? Of Leia sponging the blood from her face as she curled up naked on the bathroom floor with nothing but a towel slung over her shoulders.

She couldn't even remember climbing into bed…

"Good morning!"

Leia appeared, carrying a couple of tops, pants and wide-brimmed sun hats.

"You can have these and the ones in the wardrobe until yours arrives. They were my mother's. They may be old, but most of them are coming back into fashion now."

Leia held up a halter-neck dress with a low back, layered in pastel rainbow colours. "Beautiful, aren't they?"

Rey nodded, noticing for the first time how the nut-brown shade of Leia's eyes matched her son's and the way she walked with a sense of purpose and regality—it reminded her so much of Ben.

"Have you heard from him?"

"Nothing yet. His uncle will let us know as soon as there is any news."

"Luke is with him?"

She nodded. A senator's nod. It gave nothing away.

"Why not you?"

Rey regretted the words as soon as they left her lips. In response, Leia's back straightened and her smile dropped.

"I didn't mean anything by that. I just—you want to be with him, don't you? You shouldn't stay here on my behalf. Especially since—"

She stopped, unable to speak the truth—especially since I should be in there. Not him.

Whether the senator saw something in Rey or she believed her words, she came by the bed, indicating for Rey to shuffle over as she sat

"I do want to be with him. Of course, I do, after all these years I've gotten my son back." Leia smoothed her hands over the cotton blanket with a kind smile. "But Han and I are under strict orders."

Oh, no. Rey sat forward, feeling ill. Surely — surely — he wasn't making them stay for her.

He wouldn't.

She cringed, he really would.

Leia held up her hand in protest. "Before you say anything. We're happy to do this. The Knights of Ren are still out there, Armitage Hux, God knows who else."

Snoke… Rey added in her mind.

A couple strolled past the room, laughing as a man tried to grab his partner. Leia turned her face towards the scene, they both did, and Rey wondered when she might feel light enough to laugh again.

"Ben wanted this, Rey. You are—" Leia's mouth twitched with a fleeting smile. She must have been so used to wearing a mask that, even now, when it was just the two of them, she held back.

Leia cleared her throat, and tried again, her eyes sparkling with emotion. "You must know how special you are to him." Leia reached her hand out covering Rey's, the gesture made her chest feel heavy. "And that makes you special to us."

Rey sat back, resting her head against the back of the bed with her eyes to the ceiling, blinking. She had a splitting headache, the tiredness was creeping back, but there was a thought blooming in her mind, and in her heart, like a star in the night growing brighter the more she focused on it. Ben had given her freedom, but far more than that, he had given her a family.

After all this time of being alone, fighting to survive on the scraps of rubbish Jakuu, sold and abused and hunted—it seemed they cared for her, Han, Leia and, above all, Ben.

Her voice choked a little at the realisation. "Thank you."

"Get some sleep." Leia squeezed her hand again before she returned to work, filling the wardrobe, lining the bin, adding towels, toilet paper, even a fresh vase of flowers on the coffee table.

Rey watched the most respected woman in the country fuss over her like she was her own daughter with a strange feeling in her heart. At last, she succumbed to the whole-body fatigue threatening to envelop her, slipping back between the sheets and staring out at the ocean beyond until exhaustion claimed her once more.

Afternoon

Rey sat in her bed, rubbing her eyes, feeling as though they had been glued shut for the past few hours. The sky was still light, though flecked with glowing embers of sunset, and the air was warm and humid.

Wrapping the bed sheet around her body, she went to the bathroom and stood before the green-glass basin, where she splashed her face with water a few times before catching her reflection in the mirror. There were bags under her eyes, and every part of her face was pale, from the faint blush of her lips to her sallow cheeks. Stepping back, she dropped the sheet to the ground.

What a sight. When had she become so skinny? Rey ran her hands over a bumpy ribcage, and down to her protruding hip bones. The bruises were everywhere, explosions of blue, yellow and brown blotches across her torso, legs and arms. She turned to see her back, marked with welts, like two wide-set fang bites. Her right eye socket sported a shiner of a black eye and along her neck was a faint red line where Phasma's knife had cut her.

In a way, she was grateful that he would never see her like this. That she was saved from his tortured expression as he blamed himself for each and every mark on her body like he'd dealt them himself.

Turning the shower on, she curled up beneath the water flow until the tiles were flooded and the water went from hot to lukewarm, to stone cold. She wasn't sure how long she lay there, gradually freezing as the cold water sprayed over her, mesmerized by the way the soap suds and clear swells funnelled into the drain. Once her lips turned blue and she was shivering, she turned the tap off, still staring at the black hole in the tiles, the one that swallowed everything.

She was free now. Free of debt, of the threat of Snoke's henchmen and their promises of pain, free of sex work, the brothel, and every nightmare she once had.

It should be enough.

It had to be.

For what Ben had done, it had to be enough.

Searching for her strength, she rose to her feet, squaring her shoulders, raising her chin and staring grimly at her reflection.

Breathe.

She forced herself to do it, just one breath in and one breath out.

It wasn't going to fall apart now.

Ben was gone, but he was not lost and damned if his sacrifice would be for nothing.

Evening

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Rey strolled the promenade, past retirees playing cards on Balinese-style furniture, weaving through the cafe that sat outside her bedroom door, dotted with white umbrellas and drinks served with miniature umbrellas and flamingo stirring sticks, eventually she neared the resort-style pool where blissful couples caught the last rays of the sun in their lazy honeymoon daze.

Leia and Han were up ahead, sitting at a round table, hunched over, their lips moving quickly. Rey breathed a sigh of relief as Han waved to her, his smuggler's smile beckoning her to join them.

As she came closer, she noticed another man sitting with them, he had dark skin and a smile so bright it looked like he belonged in a teeth whitening commercial. He was an older man, late 70s perhaps, but he certainly didn't dress like it. He wore canary yellow, with a lime-coloured cocktail in one hand, and a gold-handled cane in the other, and as she met his gaze, he let out a deep resonating laugh.

"Well, well, well, so this is Ben's girlfriend?"

"Lando!" Leia hissed, swatting him in the arm.

"Han's words, not mine."

"Don't blame me." Han quickly shoved his gin and tonic to his lips. "I'm only telling you what Ben told me."

"Honestly, the two of you! I'm sorry, Rey, these Solo men rarely think before they speak." Leia gestured to Lando. "This is an old friend, Lando Calrissian, Ben's uncle for all intents and purposes."

"Pleased to meet you," Lando reached out and took Rey's hand in his own, gently pressing it with a kiss.

"And complete cad, I'm afraid," Leia added.

Rey laughed, sitting down with them. Truth be told they had lost her at "girlfriend". She was amazed at how such a simple word could have such an effect on her. Despite everything, she sat there smiling sheepishly, holding onto the normalcy of it.

They watched her expectantly, as if waiting for her to perform or beguile them with her charm. Rey suspected this was the first time they'd ever had to deal with a "girlfriend", and she had no idea how she was supposed to act like the lover of a recently incarcerated son who had given his freedom up for her.

After a full minute of them watching her with smiles plastered on their faces. Rey stretched her arms out and pretended to relax. "This place is beautiful."

"Why, thank you." Lando gave a nod.

"It's yours?"

"Sure is. My own personal paradise."

"You're own personal tax haven, more like," Han scoffed.

"That too."

Rey poured herself a glass of orange juice from a carafe and sat back with her legs stretched out, allowing herself a rare moment to take it all in, the heat, the sound of the waves, the ocean breeze...

"Wait!" She bolted up. "Are we on Bespin?"

Surely not. Surely she would have noticed going on a plane or boat…

"We sure are," Lando replied with a wink.

"How do I not remember coming to an island?"

"You were well and truly out of it by that point," Han told her.

"Han flew you out here by private charter. We figured it was the safest way. Not that there's anything official about you leaving the mainland, mind you," Leia said.

"And she calls us the scoundrels," Han teased.

"You are," Leia quipped.

"I'm amazed." Rey slumped back in her chair, astounded and a little overwhelmed.

Leia signalled for the waiter, as she did Rey noticed a copy of the Hosnian Herald under Leia's palm.

"Can I look at that?"

Leia and Han exchanged glances, her hand still glued to the paper.

"What is it?"

"Don't look at me." Lando raised his palms in the air. "Ask no questions, hear no lies."

Han said. "Show her."

Rey took a deep breath. "Snoke's not dead."

"He is." Leia pushed the paper over to her. "Now."

Rey pulled the paper over to her end of the table and tried to swallow down the sick feeling climbing up her throat. Snoke's repugnant face looked back at her with that bald head, squinting eyes and a crooked smile. Next to the image: Respected CEO Alastair Snoke dead after medical emergency

"Medical emergency?"

"So far. Poe's managed to keep the original details under wraps. I'm not sure for how long."

"How is this even possible? He was dead."

"The paramedics stabilised him on site. They rushed him to hospital that night." Rey's memory flashed with the sight of his limp hand swaying beside the gurney.

"He never made it to the hospital," Leia continued.

"Stabbed thirty-seven times in the chest, and they found his ambulance wrapped around a tree about two blocks away from the general hospital," Han added almost scoffing. "Plus, the old raisin's cock was—"

"Han! Spare us."

Rey could barely believe her ears. "How?"

Leia shrugged. "No one knows."

Rey thought about Phasma slipping into the ambulance behind Snoke. Her cool, cruel wink to Rey. Something she'd assumed was a threat… Shit.

Phasma had finally gotten her revenge.

"So what does this mean for the case?" Rey asked, trying to reign in her hope.

"A reduced sentence possibly? Manslaughter, instead of murder. Perhaps even self-defence if we're lucky."

"It shouldn't even be a manslaughter charge, " Rey grumbled. "The man was a murdering psychopath, not a celebrated CEO."

"It will all come out in time. We must have hope," Leia said.

"When can I testify for him?"

Han choked on his gin and tonic, erupting in a coughing spree.

"You're not!" he said between coughs.

"Like hell I'm not, I was there!"

"It's not our decision, kid," he replied gruffly, folding his arms like he was secretly on Rey's side.

"Leia?" Rey asked.

The senator squirmed in her chair. "He thinks you'll do something foolish."

"He can't be serious!"

She wanted to scream, and cry, and kick him in the shins for putting her in this position. How dare he force her out of this? Rey folded her arms, grinding her teeth and glaring at the head waiter Threepio who was loitering around their table waiting to clear the used glasses.

"What does he think I'm going to do?"

"Rey," Leia almost laughed at the question. "He knows very well what you'll do. You've already proven that you're willing to throw your life away for him, hell, you've already done it."

Rey glowered, wishing Ben was here so she could yell and shout and call him a bloody-minded idiot for the position he was forcing her into. Accepting his charity, his family, while he was sacrificed.

"I'm going to kill him for this."

Leia almost choked on her wine, failing to hide her amused smile. "I'll let my brother know when I speak to him again."

Rey's heart clenched. "You've heard from Master Luke?"

"Master Luke? Now I've heard it all," Lando said with a chuckle.

Rey blushed, forgetting that to most adults he was plain old Luke. It made her feel like a child, and perhaps she still was, clinging onto old titles.

"He called this morning—"

"And?" Rey was deathly still. "Is he okay, is he—"

"He's fine. Recovering … he misses you."

The words hit her like a fresh blade to the wound; it was a real and living thing now that throbbed with pain in her heart, the muscles and arteries felt like they were being crushed in a vice.

Was this their relationship now, fleeting messages exchanged through Mas— Luke for everyone to speculate on.

Rey swallowed the bitterness of the situation.

It was better than nothing, she supposed.

"You can tell him that I miss him too."

One week ...

Not without argument, Rey surrendered her mobile phone in place of a new one, a better one. At least it didn't have a cracked screen and the microphone actually worked.

The first number she dialled was Finn's. Standing out the front of her room, watching the waves lull across the sand, she paced, waiting for him to answer.

It rang out.

She was about to hang up when there was a click, followed by a hurried, breathy voice on the other line.

"Finn?"

A child was laughing in the background, and then another female voice, excitable, familiar almost.

"Yeah, yeah. Hold on, Penny-Rose!"

Rey furrowed her brow in confusion. It sounded like him but — "Finn, is that you?"

"Rey!" he shouted, and then was Rose squealing: "Oh my God, is that her?"

Rey jerked the phone away from her ear as there was a loud crash like they had dropped the receiver.

"Finn? Rose? Are you still there?"

"Rey! We've been so worried about you! Are you okay? Where are you?" Rose said in a rush. "I'm so sorry, we thought you'd left the brothel. I can't believe we left you there. I can't—"

"It's okay. I'm fine. I'm just glad that you're okay. I was worried about you too," Rey said, and then paused before adding. "So, you're staying with Finn now?"

"Oh, Finn! He's great, he is—" Rose laughed, her attention deviating to whatever was going on in Finn's apartment. There was clapping and even more hysterical laughing from Penny Rose. To Rey, it sounded as though someone was bounding around the room like a buffoon.

That would be Finn.

Rey's laughter subsided, feeling as though she was intruding on something intimate and special. She smiled at the picture in her mind, of Finn and Rose together, in their little found family. The thought filled her soul with happiness, but she couldn't help but feel the barb beneath it all. A pang of longing at the injustice that their happiness and companionship was so far away from her own reality.

"It's descended into madness here," Rose laughed. "I'll pass you over to Finn."

Rey waited as Rose tried to convince her daughter to walk to the park. In response, there was a shrill tantrum, followed by the sound of a door closing, and then, silence.

Finn cleared his throat. "Sorry about that. She's exuberant."

"Three-year-olds often are."

"I meant Rose."

Rey smirked. "So, you and Rose…"

"Oh, it's nothing. You know, she wasn't feeling safe where she was."

"Right." Rey twisted a strand of hair around her finger with a knowing smile.

"And I like kids..."

"You do?"

"Yeah, you know, at Maz's house, I thought they were kind of cool. And, well, Penny Rose's a good kid, and they needed a place to stay."

"So, she's your flatmate then?"

"Umm. Something like that. "You… you don't mind, do you?"

"Finn, I couldn't be happier. I love you both, I only wish I could have introduced you under better circumstances."

"Yeah, well—" he drifted off in thought. "Shit, Rey, if I had known—"

"Please, don't. I asked you to get Rose out. You did that."

Rey could hear Finn pacing. "When Poe told me what had happened—"

"You helped me, you helped Rose. That's all I care about."

"I don't think I'll ever forgive—"

"Will you stop? I don't care about that," Rey snapped. It was rude, but she didn't have time for his self-postulating "There's something I need to know—"

"Anything."

Rey's heart pounded. This was the one thing on which so much of her and Ben's future depended.

"The USB Drive. Dom was supposed to get it to Poe."

"He did."

Rey breathed a sigh of relief.

"Do you know if…" she bit her lip, hating the question. "Was there anything about Kylo Ren on there?"

Finn stopped pacing, even stopped breathing by the sound of it.

"Don't know. Poe has let no one else look at it yet. He's playing his cards very close to the chest."

Rey nodded, forgetting Finn wouldn't see it. She hoped that was a good sign, the less people who knew about Kylo Ren and what he had done the better.

"You… ah... really believe in this guy?"

A wave of anguish rose in Rey's chest. The world would always question and doubt Ben. He had earned that she supposed, but the truth of it still hurt.

"From what Poe says, he's been pretty messed up ever since he was a kid," Finn continued, encouraged by her silence. "Even if he didn't do some of that stuff, it still—"

"Stop it!" Rey snapped, and for a microsecond, she hated him for doubting something she knew to be so true in her heart. But Finn would be the first of many and that's something she had to accept. No one was on Kylo Ren's side.

"He's a good guy, Finn."

"But this case, these charges—"

She wished he'd shut his mouth. Whatever he was going to say, she'd already told herself.

"It could be a long time, and even then—"

"Then I'll wait."

Finn let out an exasperated sigh.

"It's not up for discussion. You don't know him, Finn, but I do. I do. He's... good. He's changed." Dear God, she was choking up again, her voice unstable and undulating, breaking just when she needed to be strong. "I don't want you to ever question me on this."

"Rey—"

"I mean it. Ben Solo made the right choice in the end. He deserves a life, even if the world doesn't think he does. Even if you don't think he does."

"Rey, wait, I didn't mean—"

"Just like you, and Rose, and everyone who has ever had life screw them. He deserves a chance!"

Her voice broke in a sob and she forced herself to stop before her emotions spilled out.

"Okay, peanut," came the voice on the other end, subdued and resolved. "Okay."

Ten days

Rey's bruises wilted into sallow smudges. Her clothes arrived along with a few trinkets from home: her travel posters, a couple of treasured CDs and her old university textbooks.

The latter had come with a note, written in a loose script, small indistinct letters, hurried and imperfect.

You'll make an amazing journalist.

B—

She breathed it in, hoping to catch hints of his spicy aftershave and citrus shampoo. Everything about Ben had smelt sharp and bold. But there was nothing; no memory she could cling to.

Beneath the note was an unsealed envelope containing a blank application form from the University of Coruscant.

Rey pressed it to her heart as she curled up on the small sofa, looking out to the ocean. She watched the rise and fall of the waves, tracing her finger over his writing…

He'd never planned to come back with her.

The thought washed over her and she found herself crying once more. They were silent tears, subtle, easily wiped away if someone came by. She allowed herself this much-the odd cry, away from prying eyes. It was the only way she could expel the hurt, just enough to keep going on.

It has been a week since she'd read the article about Snoke, and for the most part, she'd spent her time restlessly. In the mornings, she'd wander for a few hours, over the hills, along the beach, through the township, exploring the markets. The humidity and heat landed heavily after lunchtime and then she'd spend time with Leia and Han, catching up on proceedings from the mainland, as well as exchanging fleeting messages to be passed on via Master Luke, and receiving them in turn. She longed for a phone call, but he hadn't been allowed that privilege and Ben ensured there was a no letter policy between them while addresses could be traced back to her. There was rarely any meaningful news about his case: the Knights of Ren were still at large, as was Armitage Hux, and no word on the date of trial.

Evenings were the worst time for her. It wasn't the grief, or anger that got to her, but more of an overwhelming feeling of malaise.

It usually hit after dinner, when she stared at the dirty dishes trying to find the motivation to move, from then she slumped from the couch, to the bed, to the kitchen table feeling useless and drained of purpose.

Rey eased into bed, wearing nothing but her underpants and a singlet top. She munched on a bag of chips as she flicked through the television channels.

Leia encouraged her to make friends in the resort and do what the "young people" do. She was terrible at it. Rose, Finn, Jess, they all had their little quirks, they were all different to her but they fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

God, she missed them.

And Ben—

Don't think of him…

Suddenly, the shrill ring of her mobile phone came at her like a sledgehammer.

She grabbed it with lightning speed.

"Ben?"

There was laughter on the other end.

"Rey, I'm going to hazard a guess and say you were waiting by the phone."

"Oh, Poe. I thought—"

"Yeah, not him. Sorry."

A cool breeze blew in from the ocean, bringing a hint of rain in the air. It buffeted the curtains and swished her papers onto the floor as Rey scrambled to get them.

"Is there any news?" she asked, trying to hide the disappointment from her voice.

"A shitload. Not much regarding your boy though."

She swallowed down a lump in her throat. "Yeah, I figured as much. How are you doing?"

Poe grunted as though he were kicking back and putting his feet up for the day. "Yeah, okay, still got this damned cast on. Itches like hell. How about you?"

"Finn said you got the drive. Have you had a chance to go through it yet?"

"There's my girl. Straight to the point," Poe said. "Yeah, I've got it. Dom dropped it over that night although part of it seems corrupted and some files seem to be missing—"

Poe went silent, no doubt baiting her to slip up.

Rey met his silence with her own. Another gust of wind-battered through the doors, and a whoosh of raindrops pattered the tile floor.

"What do you expect me to say?" Rey grabbed a white bath towel and ran it along the floor where the rain had come in.

"Specifically, I thought there would be some evidence that pointed towards Kylo Ren's involvement in all this."

Rey stilled her hand pressed firmly on the towel.

"Are you going to pursue it?"

She waited a beat for him to answer.

"No, Rey. I'm not."

She breathed again.

"It's still an uphill battle though. There's a couple of years' worth of correspondence and images to go through on this drive, meanwhile, the paper isn't going to write itself."

"I know, you're already doing so much. I saw some of your pieces in the paper."

With the rain mopped up, Rey stood by the doors, loathe to close them again. There was a full moon ahead; she wondered if Ben was looking at the same moon and thinking of her as she was thinking of him.

She wondered if he could even see the sky.

"So, when are you coming back to work?"

"Work?" Rey asked, genuinely confused. "Do I have a job?"

"I already told you, help me crack this case and there will be a job for you at the end of it. As far as I see it, the case is cracked, we just need to tie up some loose ends."

"You're offering me a job?" Rey asked, gob-smacked. "I don't even have my degree yet!"

"I expect you to get it still. It's just a part-time gig and it doesn't pay much."

"But I'm on Bespin and you're—"

"I'm not sure if you've heard, there's this thing called the internet—"

"Very funny," Rey quipped.

"You wouldn't be the first off-shore writer I've hired. I'll send you the files tonight and you can begin combing through to see what you can find. We're looking for everything you can get on that bastard Snoke to bring him down. By the end of this, I want Snoke and the First Order to be a smokey hole in the ground, okay?"

"You got it," she beamed.

"This is our chance, Rey. We can show the world who Snoke really was, and maybe you can help your boy in the meantime."

Two Weeks

Rey's chin fell to her chest, her fingers pressing down on the keys half asleep: Oijqewfpjiasjf

"Look back."

Her eyes fluttered, drifting between sleep and wakefulness. Her mind waded between dreams and thoughts. Snoke's ring of deception, blackmail, murder, extortion, torture... She left no speck of data untouched as she tied the information together, finding how far his influence had spread and how many pockets he'd lined to get there, and of whom. Between the work she, Finn and Poe had done, that criminal and his legacy would be destroyed.

She had spent most of her days researching loose ends, tugging on them, following where they led her and after dinner, after she had said good night to Leia and Han, she returned once more to her laptop, combing the information again with fresh eyes, looking for everything they could use to help Ben, to prove he too had been a pawn like so many others.

She worked until her wrists ached and her eyes were blurry, falling asleep slumped over her laptop.

"Look back at me."

Rey was jarred awake by the sound of his voice.

The television was blindingly white against the darkness of the room, her eyes strained and squinted as snowflakes floated around the tragic hero. She had opted to let North & South play in the background while she worked. It seemed fitting; sadness, romance and, above all, hope.

That's what she needed most now.

They hadn't heard anything from Ben or Master Luke for the past three days now, and to be quite frank, that worried her. Leia had called her brother, Han had even sent an email. But there was no response. It was strange, disconcerting. Rey had tried to push her worry away, it had been part of the reason why she'd stayed up watching movies as she worked.

Rey spread her fingers over the bed covers trying to find the remote. Unable to find it she hung over the side of the bed, searching through piles of clothes on the floor, takeaway boxes and used tissues.

There. She grabbed it, half-hidden beneath the tissue box and pressed the sticky power button over and over again until the screen turned black.

Rolling back into bed, the fluorescent numbers of the alarm clock glared back at her. 1.30 am. She grimaced, huddling down between the bedsheets when there was an urgent knock at the door.

"Just a minute." Rey switched on the lamp beside her bed and checked that her black camisole and pyjama pants were clean enough to answer the door.

This time the door rattled and the knocking came again more furtive and urgent.

"Threepio, if this is about the broken spa filter again—"

She unlocked the door, pushing it open.

But something wasn't right.

The air was sharp out here, a few degrees cooler than her own room, smelling of wool carpet, disinfectant and something else — something familiar that she couldn't place, an old memory locked away. The fluorescent hallway lights were off and without any windows, the room was pitch black.

If there was someone out there, she couldn't make them out in this darkness.

It wasn't right.

Rey's heart raced as she yanked the door closed but it jarred on something, a strong hand gripped around the edge.

"Wait!" The voice was low and gravelly. She opened it just enough for the light from her room to illuminate the man beyond.

"Hey, kid."

"Master Luke!"

Rey threw her arms around him and squeezed like he was the closest thing to hugging Ben.

"Easy there," He let out a pained groan at the fury of her embrace.

From somewhere in the shadows, there came a low chuckle. Rey's heart lurched and she pulled back from Luke. Straining her eyes to find the source.

She knew that voice. She knew that voice.

"Where is he?" Her words were desperate as she peered past Luke like she was searching for air to breathe.

There was a shift in the darkness and Rey's eyes pricked with tears as he came forward, like a ghost emerging from the underworld.

Warm light splintered across his face and body in warped patterns, tracing his outline with an unsteady but radiant glow. With each step, parts of him came into focus: the wavy hair, broad shoulders, eyes, full of intensity and yearning.

Rey gasped, every breath felt like it was burning in her chest. He was here, in the flesh, within reach.

As Ben towered above her, his lips parted and with a slow inhale, he smiled.

"Hello, Rey."

[kog0ruhn]

The End Pt. III - Loss of an Heir

“Mainshock! Mainshock!”

Aftershock screeched at the top of his lungs as his sister thrashed on the ground. Her mouth frothed and her eyes were as wide as a Spiral’s and as round as a coin, claws drawn as she shrieked and gargled and chanted and squalled. Words in a language he did not understand echoed throughout the chamber, nearly drown out by the sound of her flailing, wings slapping violently on the ground as she rolled on her back and kicked at the air.

“Gods and creation. Richter! Help!”

The Spiral watched motionlessly from his perch on a rocky outcropping on the wall, coiled in a perfect little pile with his head tilted gently to the side. His eyes were devoid of feeling. The expression plastered across his face was more hollow than the gargoyles in the Coalition’s headquarters. Even as his mate seized and screamed on the ground beneath him, Richter was an apathetic voyeur, stoic and unmoved. Occasionally, Aftershock thought he saw the hint of a smile.

Had she been poisoned? Aftershock gawked at the Guardian on the ground and thought back to the assassination attempts he’d witnessed in the Scarred Wasteland, though most of those had been against his mother. Snap was immune to most everything toxic; perhaps she wasn’t a good comparison. Hadn’t one of the familiars eaten a sprig of raw siltvine before? It had been in pretty bad shape, but nothing like his poor sister.

Her muscles drew and twisted as though controlled by some dark, outside force. Her voice was loud and brimming with power. Poison victims didn’t start chanting in forbidden tongues, did they? Barring Lampyridae, maybe, but at least she knew the forgotten languages to begin with.

“Richter, why are you just sitting there, you sorry son of a--!”

Richter’s head cocked in the other direction, then jerked violently with a pop. Gods, was he poisoned, too? Was this some kind of soul toxin? He had heard of those from Iskra before, back when he’d sought help about his condition. But who would have done it? The Coalition? The Sixth House?

He shuddered. It probably was the Sixth House. They were as wicked as dragons could come, and their master was a frighteningly powerful creature. Perhaps he’d go give them a piece of his mind after he called Hex to come fix everything. That is, if Hex could fix it.

Mainshock rolled and squawked, the words spewing from her mouth now spoken with more panic and virulence. Her tone was absolute poison, a dark and cruel voice that wasn’t her own. Aftershock struggled to pin her, but the size difference was more than noticeable. As a Nocturne, he wouldn’t have stood a chance, but now that he was a Tundra? By the Earthshaker, there wasn’t a hope he could do anything to a Guardian aside from possibly be punted across the den.

A massive arm fell over his back and he landed, face down, with a loud yelp of alarm. He swore in the moment he hit the ground that the world became darker, engulfed in a shadow that spilled from the corners of the room like a rush of water, but he wasn’t sure if it was real or just a concussion. What was undoubtedly real was the smell, a burning odor like the sulfur pools of the Wandering Contagion, that infested his nostrils and sizzled in his sinuses. Also real was the sound of Richter’s voice uttering a low, humorless, monotone laugh that somehow was detectable over Mainshock’s furious roars.

Then, there was a sound that filled him with relief: their father. The thunderous voice of Earthquake ripped through the lair like a bolt of lightning, desperate and pleading and determined. The ground shook beneath his weight, and Aftershock struggled to call out for him. Beneath the weight of his sister, it was little more than a strangled croak.

“Mainshock!”

And that was the voice of his mother. Aftershock fought again, squirming onto his side and trying to free himself with his hind legs.

By the time he saw the eyes of his father, the shadow in the room had grown so dark that he couldn’t deny its existence. Mainshock, now strangely still, hissed venomous words into his ear and now seemed to be attempting to pin him down on purpose. Richter still laughed, a steady stream of empty chuckles that continued on and on as though he never breathed. He scrabbled at the ground as the odor became unbearable, nauseating, disorienting. He felt as though he would faint when suddenly, air rushed into his lungs and a weight was ripped off of his back.

He scrambled to his feet and galloped towards his parents, nearly crashing into a duo of dragons that lingered behind them. One was Antony, an outsider he only recognized from occasionally trading with the Twisted Scales. The Mirror trained a fine hunting hound, and Aftershock had always kept track of Clan Elsewhere’s familiars. The other was Arsenic, normally a very comforting sight.

Now she was just standing, gawking in abject horror behind him as he scampered underneath her to hide. Cowering beneath her chest, it took him a few moments to realize that the room was cold--cold enough to be the Cloudscape Crags--and everything was deathly silent. He couldn’t hear his own breathing. He couldn’t hear Arsenic’s heart thundering in her bosom.

After a few tense seconds, the sound of his father’s voice broke through the void and gave him the courage to turn and open his eyes.

“What just happened?”

One eye opened, then another. Aftershock stared at an empty room, Mainshock and her mate gone without a trace. The only hint of their fate was the darkness, slowly receding into the walls, wavering like the air over the Shattered Plains. The smell, still overpowering, began to recede from the room, dissipating like a ghost.

“Where is she?” Earthquake demanded. Aftershock shuddered and shrank further beneath Arsenic as his father howled. His mother stood beside him, paralyzed in a mixture of grief and horror. The way her front foot was planted indicated everything Aftershock could ever hope to know. She had reached for her daughter in desperation. She’d seen her daughter vanish before her eyes.

Her gaze drifted from where Mainshock had been, over Aftershock’s head, and straight to Arsenic. The rotten dragon swallowed hard and uttered a barely audible apology, her voice weaker than he had ever heard it in his life. They wordlessly seemed to come to an understanding just as Antony whispered, just loud enough to be heard.

“That was it. The shadow. But... where is it going now?”

[flamingblinglove]

Hehehe top 5 fictional crushes!! If you haven’t gotten it already 🥰

AHHHHH SORCHA MY DEAR!!!! 🥰 I'M SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO REPLY omg is it time to spazz over 2d men now??? ☺ I'm gonna include visuals because I can 🤭 okay hehe in no particular order:

1. Rengoku Kyoujurou (KNY)

This godsend man is the whole package. He's the Flame Pillar, he's hardworking and passionate, he has such a zeal for life. He's a filial son, an amazing brother, a dependable comrade, a knowledgeable and compassionate senior. Even before fighting to his death, he never gave up on his humanity, and his vow to always protect the weak.

He had a hole punched through his solar plexus, yet he died with a smile on his face, because he knew that he did his best. With his dying breath, he told his juniors not to cry over his death, and to further improve themselves to become future pillars of the Demon Slayer Corps. This man is such a positive influence and he literally set my heart ablaze, and this is why I love him so much.

2. Levi Ackerman (SNK)

Do I need to say more??? Mr Levi Perfect-As-Hell Ackerman???? He had an unfortunate background, yet he still became successful in life. He was taught survival skills, and he honed his craft till near perfection. Levi was born a nobody. Yet, with hard work, talent, and pure determination, he became one of Humanity's greatest asset.

Levi was never the type to receive affection. Yet, he was able to deliver it in his own unique way. Levi was deemed by many to be stoic, aloof, and uncaring. Yet, there were so many layers to his personality. If Levi Ackerman existed in real life, I would date him in a heartbeat.

3. Sesshoumaru (Inuyasha)

Sesshoumaru-sama, who hated humans, saved a dying human child with a blade that brings the dead back to the living. Sesshoumaru-sama, who was cold and uncaring, allowed that human child to follow him on his journey in the feudal period, and brought her to a human village hoping she can learn to socialise again. Sesshoumaru-sama, who doesn't believe in affection and emotions, made this human girl his wife, and eventually blessed her with twin girls of their own.

I admired Sesshoumaru a lot because he was such a huge contrast to Inuyasha; Sesshoumaru was calm and collected, while Inuyasha was brash and hot-headed. And then seeing Sesshoumaru's change throughout the manga was really satisfying, especially how he understood why his father, the Great Dog Demon, left him the Tenseiga (to teach him compassion).

4. Squall Leonheart (Final Fantasy VIII)

Where I do even start about this charming quiet handsome man??? He grew up in an orphanage without any knowledge of his birth parents. The closest person he had to an older sister was taken away from him one day. At 17 years old, he lead a group of mercenaries to fight for their lives.

Squall was a loner who never socialised, never showed his true self to anyone. However, when he fell in love, he learned to open up, and learnt to trust his comrades. Watching Squall's growth throughout the game is what made me so attracted to him (and also I share the same birthday with his lover so maybe that's why hehe)

5. Zack Fair (Final Fantasy: Crisis Core)

Oh god. Where do I start. Zack Fair is your overly-energetic friend who doesn't stop talking. Zack was a ladies' man, yet when he fell in love with Aerith, he gifted her a pink ribbon, and told her to always wear pink for him whenever they went out on dates.

Zack rescued the mako-poisoned Cloud and escaped together, planning to himself what they would do for a living. When they were found, Zack hid Cloud behind some stones, and fought a hundred soldiers all on his own. Zack who always talking about being a hero, became Cloud's living legacy, and entrusted his dream to Cloud. I hated the fact that he died, but at least it wasn't a meaningless death. Zack died a hero, and a legend was born that very day.

I humbly apologise for the verbal diarrhoea omg THANK YOU FOR LISTENING TO MY TED TALK

Top 5 of anything!!