#every day i think about how a ceasefire could save so many lives and yet our genocidal senile president denies it at every turn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chokemeanakin · 4 years

Note

Hi I love your writing so much! I was wondering if you could do a fluffy Anakin one shot where he proposes? Maybe he mentions wanting to start a family or something🥺 hope that made sense, it just sounds really cute :)

Tysm I’m so glad you like my writing 🥰🥰 also I fear comittment and scorn the idea of marriage, so hopefully I’ve pushed aside my personal woes enough for this to be an enjoyable story 😌❤️ (it’s actually kinda cute tho and I’m actually kind of proud of it)

Masterlist

Be My Forever - Anakin Skywalker x gn Reader

“A lot of the General’s plans involve falling,” Commander Rex had said once about Anakin. He wasn’t wrong. The Jedi had crash landed, leapt from great heights, and got thrown out of starfighter ships one too many times to be able to refute that statement. The only time he hadn’t planned on falling was with you.

You were never even part of the plan to begin with. His focuses were set on winning the war, becoming a Master, and joining the council. Later on, he was going to kickstart relief efforts in order to free all of the slaves in the galaxy.

However, there was always that nagging feeling in the back of his mind that had him feeling like he was constantly teetering on the edge of something. Whether it be between the light and the dark side, becoming the best Jedi he could be or leaving the order behind altogether, fulfilling the Chosen One prophecy or refusing it completely-- he wished his life didn’t have to be so black and white. He wished he could choose a side and stay with it, to finally rest his feet on solid ground.

But then you came crashing into his life, and he had lost his balance on the edge of that precipice, and he’s been falling ever since.

At first, he had tried to hold on for dear life. He knew that admitting his feelings for you would send him to a place there was no returning from. Not only would it be going against the Jedi code, but it would also force him to face a fear he has been battling ever since his childhood on Tatooine-- submission. To him, love meant giving away every bit of yourself to the person who will accept it and do the same. He couldn’t even give himself to the order that he was prophesied to save-- how could he give himself up for you?

But by the time he had decided to face that question head on, it was too late-- he had already stumbled into a free fall. When he was around you, the warzone that was his life came to a ceasefire, and the enemy troops waved their white flag. You made the constant stress of the war more bearable, and even convinced the battleground inside of himself to lay down their weapons for a while. You were his relief, his reprieve, the place he could go when everything was falling apart around him. And so he surrendered.

Loving you was the best thing he had ever done. While it wasn’t always easy, as you had to keep your relationship secret from the rest of the Jedi, he could not have imagined a life without you. And, quite frankly, he couldn’t imagine a future without you, either. The thought had him reach into a pouch in his belt, fingering the metal band he had fashioned from a steel washer earlier this month.

He could have bought a ring, and he had looked before, but nothing ever really caught his eye. Nothing screamed “Y/n” when he saw it, and he could just not imagine you wearing something huge and blingy and tacky. So he made one himself.

He didn’t even realize he was doing it at first. He was working on an astromech unit that had been malfunctioning, and his mind happened to wander to you, as it often did. Suddenly, he was reaching for that washer, flattening and shaping it with some pliers, imagining it around your finger. When it was done, he held it in his palm, and just stared at it.

This was a risk, even for him. He knew he loved you, and he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. But marriage? He didn’t even know what your thoughts were on the subject, much less if you would want that with him. You were the kind of person who lived in the present, took everything one day at a time. The future, to you, was a big, scary pit of infinity that you did not have the emotional capacity to deal with. So he pocketed the band in his belt, and played with it in secret every now and again, when his mind went back to you and him and how he wanted that forever.

He was on another ledge. Should he ask you to swear that commitment to him, or should he keep quiet and let things play out as they have for so long? On the one hand, he would love nothing more than to have you promise yourself to him for the rest of your life, and on into the next. On the other hand, he didn’t want to scare you and ruin the perfectly good relationship you had going.

Another black and white, another battle, another balancing act.

All of these thoughts, he had while watching you sleep in the co-pilot seat next to him. Your legs were pulled up to your chest, head lolled to the side, curled up in a ball under the blanket he had draped over you when he realized you had dozed off. Your hair was falling into your face, lips slightly parted, pulling deep breaths in and sighing them out. You were beautiful and peaceful elegant, glowing in the starlight like war spoils.

Anakin was certain of one thing-- he was tired of fighting. He knew what he wanted, and he couldn’t hold onto that ledge anymore. You didn’t have to crash into him in order for him to realize it this time-- he was ready to jump.

He found himself pulling the band out of his pouch, tracing his thumb over the cool blue-grey stone he had set in the middle, and reached for your hand. His heart raced as if he were plummeting toward the ground, weightless and sinking and spiralling into a free-fall. If he were to crash and burn, well, it wasn’t something he had never experienced before.

Your nose twitched when he slid the metal band onto your finger, but you remained asleep. The ring fit perfectly, the rock perched atop your skin like a crown, the steel band glinting in the dim light of the ship like a halo. Anakin blew out a weary breath, and leaned back in his seat. The hard part was over. All there was left to do now was to wait for you to wake up.

**************************************************************************************************************

There was no night and day out in space, so it took you a while to regain consciousness. You blinked your eyes open languidly to the sight you had been staring at for 2 days now-- an endless black backdrop dotted with random spatterings of stars. One glance at your radars showed it would only be another day before you reached Coruscant, but you had hoped your little nap would have killed more time.

Stretching your arms over your head, you yawned deeply and rubbed an eye with your hand. Something cold and hard met your skin, and you pulled it back to investigate.

There, sitting atop your fourth finger, was a sleek grey stone swimming with clouds of a dream-like blue. It was secured to your finger with a thin metal band, simple and smooth yet sturdy. You tilted your hand this way and that, watching the silver glisten when it caught the light.

You knew who had put it there. The seat next to you was empty, but there was no one else who would have gifted you something like this, something that came with implications like this.

You could hear Anakin’s footsteps approach the cockpit door. A spike of anxiety shot through your stomach, and you were overcome with the urge to hide your hand. You’re not sure whether it was your drowsiness or curiosity that kept it atop the blanket for Anakin to see as he walked in.

He stopped short by the door, eyes immediately zeroing in on the ring hugging your finger. Then they travelled to your face.

His looked like he had been caught in a crossfire, surrounded by enemy troops with no way out. The cerulean of his eyes gleamed with hesitance, anxiety, and a little fear. He blinked a couple times, closed the door, and took his seat in the pilot’s chair.

Neither of you knew what to say.

“...It’s beautiful,” you stared at the ring, twisting it around your finger with your thumb. It was like a stormcloud had been captured in a little ball and handed right to you to wear like some sort of sky-goddess. A median between black and white, infused with the blue of Anakin’s eyes… it was perfect.

“You like it?” his voice was hopeful, although it was clear how nervous he still was. “I made it myself.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise at this. You knew Anakin was good with metal parts and building things, but this was something you didn’t think he’d ever venture towards. You suddenly loved it so much more, knowing it came directly from his hands and there was not another one like it in the galaxy.

Your mind was still fighting through the murky clouds of sleep, and the reality of the situation was coming to you in bits and pieces. A slow smile crept onto your lips as you absorbed each realization.

Anakin made this ring. He put it on your finger. He wants you to have it. And although he hadn’t mentioned anything outright, you weren’t stupid. You knew what it implied. He wanted you to marry him.

The thought should have scared you. Normally, it did. But right now, feeling the weight of that cold stone against your finger, the epitome of his love made tangible, you could not think of a single reason you should be afraid. You had this boy who was giving up so much of himself to you right now, promising to love you for the rest of his life if only you would do the same. The boy who you would give up everything for, without him even having to ask. There could never be a better feeling in the world.

You stood from your seat, keeping the blanket cloaked over your shoulders to ward off the chill of the ship. Anakin’s shining eyes tracked every movement you made, so apprehensive and weary, like he was waiting for a blow.

The poor boy. His entire life was full of heartache and war. Everything he loved, he had been forced to leave behind, give away, or watch die in his arms. That’s why he held onto you with a ferocity unrivaled by anyone else, until his fingers went numb and blood pooled under his nails. He would never let you go, unless you decided that’s what you wanted for yourself.

You could see the cannons going off in his head. It was always explosions with Anakin. Fire and smoke and and war and destruction. You could see it all happening behind those eyes, could practically hear his imagination conjure up every way you could reject the heart and soul he had bearing for you at the moment.

You cradled his face in your hands, and kissed him. His mind went quiet. His world narrowed to you-- the fires went out, the smoke cleared, and nothing existed except for your lips on his own.

Peace.

Even the tempest of fear and anxiety building in the pit of his stomach was soothed by the taste of you on his tongue, the burning flames snuffed out one by one until his hands stopped shaking and he could think clearly again. You broke away from the kiss slowly, savoring the softness of his mouth on your own and the warmth of his skin beneath your palms.

“I’ll spend forever with you,” you whispered, smiling at the tiny, shaky exhale you felt against your lips. He closed his eyes, fingers squeezing your arms like he was afraid he was dreaming, and you’d be gone when he woke up.

You weren’t leaving.

You brought your lips to his again, capturing his relief and letting him breathe through you. With every thrum of your heart you reached for him, enveloped him, loved him; and he received it with open arms and gave it all right back.

Rex was right-- his plans often had a habit of him falling, and crashing, and burning. But with you, it was like he was on stable ground. He had fallen, but you had caught him, and he was safe now.

And he would get to have his forever.

#oh god this was so sappy #dont worry im still a bad bitch #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fic #star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin angst #anakin fluff

271 notes · View notes

7deadlycinderellas · 3 years

Text

If the summer of our lives could just come again, ch 38 (Final)

Holy shit I made it

AO3 link

Oldtown

The air outside Oldtown is humid and warm. There are so many flowers that the whole town smells perfumed. Shireen almost squeals in delight, and Jojen’s never seen anything like it. Gilly and little Sam are delighted too, even the tiny handful of Baratheon men her mother had assigned to accompany and protect them seem enamored of the sunshine. It’s lovely enough that Shireen almost wishes that Brienne hadn’t left them to return briefly to Storm’s End, then perhaps to Tarth, or to Casterly Rock. She deserved it though, Shireen thought, she had more than upheld her vows and done her duty, both to Uncle Renly and herself.

“I never knew the sun could be this warm,” Sam whispers, turning his face to the glowing orb in the sky.

Jojen stares over the horizon, his face rendered almost blank by wonder.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this far from home, even when we went north.”

Gilly had smiled and nodded. When they reach the edge of the city, they park their horses outside an inn who says they have space for a small group of travelers. Shireen retrieves the pack with her writing, it’s bulging at it’s seams, and suddenly Gilly takes the lead.

“How do you know where you’re going?” Shireen asks, barely able to keep up.

“I just do,” Gilly insists. Shireen shrugs at Jojen, then takes his hand and tries to catch up.

They had stopped in Dragonstone, for just a few moons, to see her mother. Shireen couldn’t quite put to words where their relationship truly sat now, but she was grateful that her mother no longer looked at her as though she was a monster for existing. Maybe they would never be close, but now she would not be the one who told her how to follow her dream, to live the life she wanted.

And with the impending responsibility of Storm’s End in her future, Shireen is perfectly at ease with taking this time for herself.

The city sprouts up on both sides of the honeywine, winding cobblestone streets under their feet. And then, it appears in front of them. The collection of domes and towers that made up the Citadel.

Gilly’s steps stay fast, stay certain, and Shireen suspects that she knows exactly where they are going. Past the green sphinxes was easy enough, but Gilly seemed to know each and every turn to find the library.

The library does it’s best to take Shireen’s breath away. She gazes up at the tall stacks and the high ceiling. She feels Jojen go still beside her, and realizes he must be as enraptured at her. She overhears some of the acolytes in their robes talking, something about the seasons, and tires to listen.

One of the acolytes looks up and opens his mouth as if to tell them that they can’t be in here. Gilly doesn’t give him the chance, but walks briskly past, pulling little Sam by the hand, to the acolyte at the fourth table in line, a portly young man who hasn’t even raised his head at the noise yet.

“Spring lasted only a little more than a year, and the stars say everything’s still in motion and if this keeps changing….”

He looks up. Gilly smiles. The young man knocks over his ink well.

Shireen feels a smile on her face too, though she’s not quite sure why.

Winterfell

Ned tries to wipe the sweat from his face when his daughter enters his room. It’s too hard for him to move very much anymore, but he tries not to let her see. Wolkan, the new young maester sent from the Citadel, tells him it won’t be long. And while the days he has are getting harder and harder, he keeps finding himself wishing for just a few more.

Arya’s spending her evening sitting with him, on his left side. All of his children have spent the time they can by his side, but even though he would never admit it, Catelyn had always been right; Arya was always the child he was closest to.

“Tell me of Winterfell, daughter, “ Ned asks, and Arya puts down her book.

She smiles.

“Meera taught Arra to hold her bow this morning. Her hands are too chubby the draw the string yet though. Last I saw, Gendry was giving her a piggyback ride around the courtyard while the others were training.”

She smiles wider, briefly, at the thought of Gendry swinging the little girl around, making her laugh and squeal. She teased him horribly about how he was so grouchy around everyone, except, it seemed, for mouthy girls.

“The guards are training again, now that we have enough of them and enough laborers. They even let me join without complaint now.”

Ned coughs.

“I do wish I got to admire you in action with that blade again.”

Arya pats her thigh, where Dark Sister still has it’s place in her holster.

“Sansa’s working on her cloak, she’s embroidering it with a red wolf. Ygritte’s still working with Val to finalize their plans. “

Ned smiles at her stories.

“And what of Winterfell itself? Is it still healing well?”

Arya’s face is wistful.

“It’s going on. The crew sent from King’s Landing have been doing their labor as ordered, though the chains make it difficult. We’re not sure how to make it safe without it though. Summer’s come in like a cart racing downhill. It’s been warm and sunny nearly every day, not even any summer snows yet. All of the flowers and the strawberries too are in bloom, even that peach tree that Maester Wolkan rooted in the glass garden has fruited.”

Ned’s face is starting to look wane and tired, so Arya slows. He coughs once, and tells her,

“Keep going. I’ll listen as long as I can.”

“The word from the Citadel,” Arya continues. “Is that these seasons are pasing unusually fast. Word might be if the speed keeps up, a future season might not even last a year…”

Arya keeps talking and Ned falls asleep. She stays with him in the quiet, before standing to leave.

That night, with the images of a fruitful summer drifting in and out of his mind, Ned passes away into the night.

The memorial is held, Winterfell grieves, and another Lord Stark joins the hall of his ancestors in the crypt.

And in the summer afterwards, is when the departures begin.

Meera and Bran are the first. Arra can sit upright in a saddle by herself now, but Bran still rides behind her to save the use of a pony.

“It’s going to be so strange being here without you three,” Arya says, helping Arra put her hands on the front of the saddle and hold on correctly while her father takes the reins.

“It was going to happen sometime,” Meera admits, mounting her own horse. “It almost feels like I’ve been putting off my own responsibilities. I shouldn’t do it anymore.”

“And you’ll always be able to find us,” Bran tells his sister, tilting his head towards the summer sky, where his ravens fly free above Winterfell, ready to depart. “May be a bit of a trial keeping them from getting shot at first, but I think I can handle it.”

Summer is waiting patiently beside the road for the others. When Meera’s horse steps close, he raises himself up on his hind legs with enough gentleness that her horse doesn’t spook. She rubs his snout and his tail wags, eager to be back in the wild. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to live as close as he did in Winterfell, but perhaps a single wolf could find a home in a swamp. And even if he ended up fleeing for the forests near Moat Caillin, he would still be close enough. Bran would always be close enough.

“Wait,” Arya says, stepping forward to Meera. She removes a wrapped item from her pack.

Meera’s eyes go wide.

“You’re giving us the catspaw’s dagger?”

Arya nods. She gestures at herself, Dark Sister on her hip, and back to Jon, who’s standing back a bit and explaining to younger man in an overlarge guard’s uniform about Longclaw.

“There’s no reason for us to hog all the Valyrian steel left in the north, and we know you’ll keep it safe. Besides,” she twists and looks where Bran and Arra have pulled up on their horse beside them, “Your House played a role in the war, even if it’s not one most people will remember from history. You deserve an heirloom to commemorate.”

And also, she thinks, this dagger nearly killed Bran once. It makes sense for him to help keep watch over it.

Arra reaches out for her aunt’s hand, calling out “aya,” the closest approximation her baby voice can manage. Arya squeezes her chubby hand and kisses it, before standing back up beside her husband and the other Winterfell men to watch them go.

Catelyn had bid farewell to her second youngest son earlier that day, for it was time too to prepare to leave Winterfell with her daughter, and for them to depart for Casterly Rock.

“I almost feel like I’m superfluous to you,” Catelyn admits as Sansa finishes the stitching on her gown, “You’ve got everything so well handled.”

“Nonsense, Mother,” Sansa admonishes, “I had to get married twice without you. I may not be able to do it with my whole family- but I’d like at least you to be there. Besides, if you’re planning to return to Riverrun, this will cut your travel time in half. “

That had been a surprise to all of them, that after Ned’s passing and Robb being officially recognized as Lord Stark, that Catelyn had expressed desire to return to her childhood home.

“My brother is lord now, my father gone. My uncle has earned some rest in his older years, and I would like to ensure that my home will prosper. I think I’ve gone a good job here, and I’ve loved raising every last one of you, but I am not truly a Stark, and without Ned, I do not feel like I truly belong here.”

And to all of the Starks, it’s actually Jon who she admits this to first, a consequence of the strange sort of ceasefire their relationship has become. He did his best to be understanding, though he does tell her that he spent much of his life feeling the same way.

“Even if you continue feeling that way, I feel like the Starks will always welcome you.”

The day Sansa and Catelyn leave Winterfell is the sunniest of any of the summer days so far.

“Hail one of Bran’s ravens if you need us. Especially me, if I need to filet your husband. I didn’t get to the last one, so I want first dibs.”

Sansa snorts wildly while embracing Arya. She’s dressed in a practical traveling gown, her bow once again strapped to her back. At her feet, Lady sits, waiting.

Arya pats her shoulder, and adjusts her quiver.

“Remember to keep your string well waxed. Meera always told us that was the most important part of maintaining your bow. And don’t get rusty. Just because you’re going to be a Lady of a great house now is no reason to let your skill degrade.”

Arya’s taking her chance to lecture Sansa on propriety. Sansa already feels like crying so she lets her.

When the party departs, Catelyn doesn’t look back, but Sansa does. Lady yips beside the party, running along the green grass in great bounds. She leaves her childhood home with one eye in the past, but her whole mind turned to the future.

In the coming moons, Val and Ygritte work out the numbers.

“The farmers have begun to work upon the New Gift,” Ygritte tells Jon that night in his chambers, “But the sheep and goat herders prefer the land north of where the wall stood. The animals have adapted to the land there, the cold and wind, it’s necessary for their coats and appetites. And the hunting clans, they’re always going to prefer living in the wild land where the beasts they hunt aren’t in as much competition with men.”

And Jon knows that Ygritte too, would always prefer the wild land.

“We’ll help them then,” he tells her, “We’ll lead them and help them resettle. With Rowan and the trees, we won’t have to be as divided as we once were. All of this land can truly be the north.”

Ygritte nods, and cuddles into his chest, and that night, they both dream of snow and caves.

The plan has been set for a while, and some of the Free Folk have already left to stake out their futures. Robb had wanted to stop them, to do the resettling in a more orderly manner, but Val had shaken her head. While most of the Free Folk were willing to obey laws, they were not willing to wait for lords to tell them how and when to live.

Rickon had been among the first to forge his path north, along with Roland, the young warrior who had stolen him away.

The night before the next departure, Jon finds Arya with Gendry during supper.

“You two can still back out if you want,” he tells them, “I wouldn’t put the both of to hardship again, especially if you’re thinking of starting a family.”

Arya shakes her head, but it’s Gendry who answers.

“Come on Jon, you know the two of us aren’t meant to live our lives in a castle giving orders or being ordered around.”

“And if you’re so concerned about this mission being dangerous when it comes to our futures and starting a family, have you talked to Ygritte about it?” Arya interjects. “Wildlings have been having families in the wilds over the wall for centuries, and I’m sure she’ll have opinions.”

Jon looks abashed, and tells the both of them that they will be ready to leave at sunup.

It does become a topic conversation in Arya’s quarters that night.

“We haven’t really talked about it, since the battle,” Gendry admits, slipping into bed and curling behind her. “Is children something you want? And if you do, are you alright with raising them on the road or in a northern village instead of in a comfortable castle?”

Arya grins, and pushes back against him, nestling further into his arms.

“Considering the number of times we ended up like this after the battle, without my access to my tea...I’m surprised it’s not a question that we’ve been forced to deal with already. I...I always thought the instant we slipped up, I’d have one on me.”

Part of her wonders how Ygritte had avoided it too. Perhaps she knew the herbs, but Jon’s stories didn’t suggest a lifestyle conducive to regular brewing of tea.

“That is always what I thought too,” Gendry admits, playing with her hair “You get it pushed into your mind that it can happen any single time...and then you start to think you want it, and it doesn’t.”

Arya smiles, thinking of seeing Gendry with Arra, thinks of how happy she was with her as well. She feels her eyes falling closed at her husband’s touch, but forces herself to answer.

“I’d be perfectly happy to have a whole pack with you in the wilds of the north, live in a little village, teach them to hunt and make weapons and tend sheep...but we’d play it by ear. If they needed to grow up in a castle, we could always come back, find a place here willing to harbor an upjumped bastard and a wild, improper lady.”

They both laugh, because they know that neither of them are those people anymore.

“We could come back to Winterfell, or visit Shireen when she ends up in Storm’s End, or go finally meet Davos’s wife and sons…” Gendry mumbles as they drift off to sleep. Arya watches his face briefly, childlike in the ease of sleep, and wonders again how she got so lucky to find him again.

In the light of the sunrise, Jon gathers the party to leave Winterfell. Ygritte gathers the people they are guiding, and is preparing them while Jon bids Robb and Val farewell. Val moves to speak to the Free Folk with Ygritte when Robb tells Jon.

“You may think you have no place here Jon, but you will always be welcome.”

Robb embraces him as well as she can with his one arm, before pulling back.

“And-” he tilts his head towards where Arya and Gendry wait, “If there are any new Stark cubs… from either of you, you better bring them to Winterfell, at least to show them where they came from.”

Jon sniffs a bit when they separate. Robb had always treated him as a brother, and Jon feels like he might as well be sixteen again, leaving for the Night’s Watch.

“Rule as Father would have wanted you to,” Jon tells him, before turning to join the others.

There’s one more person who’s supposed to join them, but Jon’s not sure how she will. He enters the Godswood, looking about. It’s easy enough, Rowan has made herself a nest underneath one of the old oak trees, and right now is sitting, face serene in the summer sun.

“Are you still joining us Rowan?” he asks her. She nods without words at first.

“In time, I want to feel the sun a bit longer.”

When they cross through the gates, Ygritte admits to Jon,

“It was fine to get to see a castle...but I’m glad to be returning north.”

Arya upon her horse, turns at one point to her left. Her ear still bothers her, but out in the wild, it’s different. It’s both quieter, the buzzing especially isn’t as bad out here, and so much of the world here is alive. She remembers Bran talking about reaching out with his ravens in the Neck for the first time, how everything seemed to breathe and to speak. The unbalance feels different in the wild, with creeks babbling and birds chirping instead of people chattering. But she turns towards the buzzing, and one bit of her silent spot becomes a flash of gray.

Nymeria, guarding her human’s vulnerable side. Arya smiles, and in the distance, spots the flash of white fur showing Ghost also running alongside. They both stop in their tracks and turn to howl. And far behind them, Arya can just make out a howl in response. Their brother, calling out farewell from behind the castle walls.

The road is gentle at first. When they reach the land of the Gift, they pass a few small settlements that have begun to farm, and there is little conflict. With everything in bloom for summer, foraging and hunting is easy enough for the group, and at night, the sky is clear enough that all the stars can be seen with ease.

Some nights, Rowan comes through the camp and whispers with Ygritte all the secrets of the stars that the children of the forest held. For even while she had had her fill of the south, Ygritte was still prone to gazing at where man had never gone.

Jon tries not to ask too much of the weirwoods, as abundant as they are here in the north, because they’ve done so much for man already. But sometimes the whispers still speak to him, warn of danger, though they often don’t see it as much. When he tries again to thank them, they almost seem to laugh.

The wall still stands, though it is clearly weeping. Jon has no idea if it will ever truly fall, has no idea what would even happen if it did. Would it slowly shrink and disappear, or would it be diminished, piece by piece, until the whole structure collapsed under itself?

Castle Black is empty, a relic of only a few years. Arya leads scouts through the remains, Dark Sister at her side, to clear it out and find any survivors, or squatters as it may be. They find none, but they do find fallen. Thankfully, the residents of the north are well used to building funeral pyres now, and saying words for people they don't know.

Soon the structure become a quality shelter before it becomes time to move past the Wall. The old barracks are opened up, but in summer, most choose to sleep in the outbuildings and battlements, in the open air.

“This would be a good location for a trading post,” Ygritte comments, “Even an inn, if there’s an enterprising sort among us.”

“Eastwatch used to trade with wildlings, even though it was forbidden,” Jon tells her. Ygritte’s idea is a good one, he thinks. There’s structures already in place, it’s central and easy to find from both sides, and already built to be defended.

The crowd is in one of the training yards, and both Arya and Gendry are in the middle being dogged by children. There’s a pack among them, young children who were hidden away on Bear Island and who’s mothers want to raise them in the land they came from. Children who only saw a bit of the action, and are desperate for stories.

They both look oddly comfortable, Jon thinks, being surrounded by young ones. He’ll have to mention Ygritte’s suggestion to them if their adventuring ever needs to take a slower pace.

That night, the sky is initially clear, but eventually takes a dark turn and a summer snow dusts the structures of Castle Black while the traveler’s sleep. In the morning, they might regret not taking the black brother’s barracks, with their large hearths, but before the snow, they had wanted the freedom of sleeping in the summer night.

Jon is jostled awake in his bedroll once the sky changes by Ygritte returning from her night-time stargazing with Rowan. Snowflakes dust her fiery hair.

“It’s snowing,” she comments. Jon chuckles, turning on one side to face the open window, “I could tell,” he responds.

She’s curls up behind him, and Jon can practically feel her eyes on him, even though he can already feel the pull of sleep beckoning back to him.

“Rowan said something to me,” she admits, “about humans and our names.”

“What was that?” Jon asks, one eye open.

“How the have a way of coming to suit us-”

Jon lets out a long snore and Ygritte realizes she’s lost him. She rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling, blocking where the stars would be. The snow is so light, it will probably be gone by morning. Though she is alone, she continues her last thought.

“Jon, of the snow,” she whispers.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #breera #jongritte #time travel fix it #fic

12 notes · View notes

a-little-slice-of-fandom · 4 years

Note

I hope this doesn’t come across as offensive or stereotypical but what do you think of Derry Girls? I’ve seen you mention them a couple of times but I was wondering what you thought of it, actually being from Northern Ireland? (obviously no pressure to answer if you don’t feel like it)

Hello my lovely! This isn’t offensive at all, so please don’t worry. I’m actually so glad people are actually asking questions. That’s the only way people can learn and that’s something that should be encouraged. Anyway...

I adore Derry girls! I cannot explain to the buzz that it created two years ago. I still remember watching the first episode, going in to school the next day and literally everyone talking about it. It was the first time I’d ever seen not one but multiple Northern Irish characters, who weren’t part of a paramilitary or

And the thing about derry girls is that it was written by someone from Derry. And absolutely nothing is stereotypical about it. That’s exactly what Northern Ireland is like. The people treating bomb scares as a mild inconvenience? Accurate. Soldiers wandering the streets, fully armed? Accurate. The wooden spoon? Accurate. Michelle swearing every other word. So accurate. The all girls catholic school? I literally go to a all girls catholic school and their representation of that was on point. The way we react to rock the boat? Accurate. Ma Mary? The textbook definition of an Irish mother. The locations? It’s so fun to try and pick out places you’ve been when watching Derry girls. Even the dialogue just...hits so close to home in a way that I can’t describe. Every other sentence has some form of Northern Irish slang like “wise up” or “melt” or “catch yourself on” or the way that everyone starts their sentences with “here” or “well” or how they end their sentences with “so I did” or “so it was” is amazing because that’s how we speak. And I had never heard that before, especially not in something as massive as Derry girls.

Every single episode is insane to how close it hits to home. The episode in series one where the family have to cross the border on the 12th of July had me in fucking stitches because that’s what it’s like on the 12th of July. And don’t get me started on the Protestants vs Catholic board from series two. That board belongs in a museum because it’s hands down the funniest yet most accurate prop to ever exist. My personal favourite bit from that board is “Catholics love statues” and “Catholics go to Donegal, Protestants go to Newcastle”. That sentence means NOTHING to non-Northern Irish people but it had me (along with so many others) crying with laughter from the accuracy.

Also, in one of the episodes of series two (the one where the girls get a new English teacher) Uncle Colm mentions a place called Ballynahinch. And everyone where I’m from went fucking MENTAL over the mention of that place. Why? Because it’s super close to where we live. We recognised it. I had never heard anything so close to home mentioned in something as big as Derry Girls. It was insane the way we reacted to a singular mention of something like that.

But Derry girls does actually tackle some tough issues in Northern Ireland. Northern Ireland is probably the most homophobic place in the U.K. (and I think it’s the most homophobic place in western Europe as well)...but Derry Girls includes a gay character and shows her friends supporting her (notice how all the Derry girls are wearing pride pins in the second series. I actually heard they would redo do takes of certain scenes if you couldn’t see the pins clearly enough). The bombing that you see in the last episode of the first series was an incredibly dark time for Northern Ireland, and Derry girls didn’t shy away from saying “yes...that happened less that 25 years ago”. It also shows the ceasefire in series two, and that was a pretty important time for Northern Ireland.

Derry Girls is so important to Northern Ireland, and I don’t mean that as a joke. Derry Girls swept the world and finally gave Northern Irish people some much needed representation. Because before Derry girls...we really didn’t see ourselves in media. We didn’t hear our accents. We didn’t see our lives in programs, save for the odd historical drama about the troubles that focused on being dark and gritty and for some reason everyone was in a paramilitary. But Derry girls was funny and (mostly) lighthearted and showed the mundane parts of Northern Ireland but still presented them as meaningful.

Representation is so important in media. I (along with so many others) had never realised how Northern Ireland never got represented and how that was actually never talked about or acknowledged. But now we are talking about it. There’s another Northern Ireland based teen drama called “My Left Nut” (yes, that’s actually what it’s called) and while I personally didn’t like it as much as Derry girls...it’s a sign that maybe, we’re going to get more and more representation. And I really think this could open a door. We could start having more Northern Irish characters and more Northern Irish based media. I think Belfast is the perfect setting for an urban fantasy, and the mourne mountains would make an amazing set for a gothic romance. Three years ago, I would have laughed at the idea of anyone wanting to set anything in Northern Ireland. But now it’s a real possibility....and Derry girls and it’s success was a massive part of that.

So yeah,,,I really like Derry Girls.

#ask #ask answered #anon ask #anonymous #anonymous ask #anon

30 notes · View notes

four-loose-screws · 4 years

Text

FE4 Suzuki Novelization Translation (Gen II) - Chapter 9

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

———————————

Chapter 9 - Dragon Knight Arion

T/W: Mention of likely one-sided romantic feelings between adopted siblings.

Ever since the child hunt was carried out at Grutia Castle, many of the citizens had come to see Seliph and his soldiers as a liberation army.

The same people also spread the news that General Hannibal's son had been taken hostage. His name was Coirpre, and he'd been entrusted to Luthecia Castle's General Disler.

"Let's save the hostage!" Seliph said. "If we do that, the general may respond with a ceasefire."

It was the liberation army's fundamental policy to avoid pointless battles as much as possible, and Hannibal's army was also very powerful, so reaching a conclusion without fighting him was the best possible option.

But to get to Luthecia Castle, they would have to get past Hannibal's army, which was stationed in front of Kapathogia Castle.

"Does anyone know of a road we can take that will allow us to avoid being seen by Hannibal's army?” Seliph asked.

The villagers took him into the mountains behind Kapathogia Castle, where hunters were using the land as their hunting grounds.

According to the hunters, if they avoided General Hannibal's army and traveled on the foot to the base of the mountains, there was a road that circumvented the castle.

"Alright, let's take that road!" Seliph exclaimed.

Since the rescue mission was to be a surprise attack from beginning to end, it was best to only let a few people go, so they narrowed the group down to Seliph, Ares, and finally, Fee, who would act as a flying column.

The problem was the countermeasure in case of Hannibal's army attacking before the rescue had been completed.

"I have a Sleep Staff. Whoever I use it on will sleep for four to five days straight." Lana said.

"I didn't know there was such a useful spell! Why haven't you used it until now?"

"The staff will break after one use, so I didn’t want to use it until we were in a desperate situation…"

Shanan was chosen to lead the army while they were gone.

With the hunters as their guides, Seliph and the others headed out.

They traveled west in a straight line, then turned south at the foot of the mountains. That area was wooded, so they didn't have to worry about being seen by enemies.

The forest cleared when they neared the castle.

"Starting from here, we'll have to climb into the mountains a bit."

The path was steep, and they couldn't make much progress on foot.

Fee gave a report every day on what she observed from the skies.

On the evening of the fourth day since they'd set out, they made it to the backside of the castle.

"Up until this point, we haven't run into any enemies at all. But tomorrow, I suspect some will be flying around in this area, so I will go ahead to Luthecia Castle." Fee said, then turned west and flew away.

"What should we do? It may take a toll on our bodies, but it would be safest to travel behind the castle tonight because we'd be able to get past it very quickly."

They of course thought it best to follow the hunters' suggestion, and started moving again without taking time to rest.

The hunters were right. Because they were following right along a steep mountain, there were areas where they had to walk almost right against the castle wall. However, the soldiers didn't think anyone would ever pass through such an area, so they were able to safely make it through.

"For the last stretch, we should travel south. We'll soon come out to the main road that leads to Luthecia."

"Thank you. You might have saved a lot of lives by helping us. How can we repay you?"

"We don't need repayment. But…"

"But?"

"If you can, please save the children that were taken away to Miletos."

"Understood. We'll try as hard as we can. ...No way, are those children…"

"No, none of them are mine. But my sister's son was taken. He's a smart, cute kid, yet they had the gall to do something so terrible to him!"

When they arrived at the main road, they could see that Hannibal's army, located to the north, had begun to move. Though Seliph and the others did not know it, Hannibal knew that King Travant had deployed, and ordered his own army to attack.

"If the king himself has gone to battle, then we have no choice. All units, attack!"

However, Hannibal's army was made up entirely of infantry units, so they didn't make it in time to fight alongside Travant. By the time they neared Meath Castle, the dragon knight unit the king led was already completely destroyed.

Lana turned towards Hannibal's army and waved the Sleep Staff.

Hannibal, marching in the center of his army's formation, was enveloped by a white, heavy cloud. However, that didn't mean that the sleep magic affected everyone. The soldiers outside of its range remained loyal to their orders and continued their attack. Shannan and the rest of the liberation army had no choice but to fight them without stopping.

"Lana said that the sleep spell will last for four to five days. The others must come back with the rescued hostage by then."

Because they'd heard that the distance between Kapathogia Castle and Luthecia Castle would take two days to travel, they only had a small margin of leeway.

Seliph and Ares did not take any breaks aside from allowing their horses time to rest, continuing onward.

In the evening two days later, they'd come so far that they could see Luthecia Castle. Fee had arrived earlier, and came to report on the situation at the castle.

"There's hardly any soldiers here. I'm pretty sure there's just a front line and those rounded up to protect the main building."

"Then let's attack tomorrow at dawn. Fee, you fly over the castle wall, and open the gate. After that, we'll storm the castle."

With the plan for their surprise attack decided, Seliph and Ares got a full night's sleep for the first time in a long time.

The surprise attack was a success. General Disler was killed by Ares and Mystletainn the moment he came out of his bedroom in a panic.

The other soldiers were mostly still in bed. By the time they woke up, the general was already dead, and upon hearing that news, they surrendered.

They found Coirpre in the dungeon. He'd been treated more like a prisoner than a hostage. From what they'd heard the villagers say, they'd gotten the feeling that General Disler had a bad reputation.

Coirpre was still young, but already very proper and polite.

"I am Coirpre, General Hannibal's son. My father stated that he wanted a ceasefire with the liberation army, but King Travant misunderstood that, and took me as a hostage. So I beg of you! Please take me to my father! I want to convince him to stop fighting!"

Of course, that had been the reason for their surprise attack in Luthecia Castle. Seliph entrusted Ares to keep watch over the castle, and immediately left with Fee, taking Coirpre towards Kapathogia Castle.

Along the way, they saw a single dragon knight flying towards them. Fee readied a counterattack, but the dragon knight did not try to start a fight.

"You are Prince Seliph, yes? I am Altena, daughter of Quan of Leonster."

The dragon knight landed next to Seliph, dismounted her dragon, and greeted him.

"Oh, so you're Prince Leif's sister! He told me about you."

"My brother's story was true. Since I have learned the truth, I can't fight against you any longer. I too am a descendant of a Crusader. Please allow me to join the liberation army."

"Of course, with pleasure! Prince Leif will probably be happy as well when he hears the news.”

"I just have one request. Arion… No, Prince Arion. I don't want you to fight him. His way of thinking is completely different from the empire's."

"Even if you ask, I can't stop that from happening, though I don't want to fight Prince Arion, either. If only he'd made you the mediator of a ceasefire. Nothing would be better than that."

The liberation army met General Hannibal near Kapathogia Castle. He'd just woken up, and had left the battlefield to return to the castle and order all the soldiers there to deploy.

The moment he saw his son, he was surprised. But when he heard everything from Coirpre, he approached Seliph, and said, "I'd like to thank you for saving my son."

"General Hannibal, we are only fighting those who agree with the ideas of the empire. I've heard that you are also against the child hunts, and that King Travant is already dead. Why would we fight against each other any longer? Please end this battle. And, if possible, I want you to fight the empire with us. You are called "The Shield of Thracia." We are still young, so please be beside us to guide us."

"If you insist, then I have no choice but to accept. So long as you don’t mind fighting with an old man like me, then I will devote my strength to you. I'd also like you to add my son to your army. He probably told you this already, but I took him in and raised him. When I found him, he had a staff that seemed to have a long history. When he's old enough, we will learn the meaning of it. Seliph, I happily entrust him to you."

General Hannibal's remaining soldiers also joined them.

The liberation army, now even stronger, gathered in Luthecia Castle to capture Bishop Judah's Gruthia Castle.

At the same time, they received word that a large imperial cavalier unit had crossed the Miletos-Thracian border.

At the strategy meeting, Altena suggested that it would be the best course of action to settle that fight first.

"I know the terrain of that area very well. The road leading from the border to Luthecia Castle that the cavalier unit can take is a thin mountain path. How about Fee and I meet the enemies halfway, and reduce their numbers? If we swoop down to attack, then use that force to fly over the mountains, they won't be able to counterattack at all."

"That's a great idea, Lady Altena!" Hannibal agreed to the plan right away.

"Because the enemies are calvary, they'll attack by taking turns. If we reduce their numbers by even just a little bit, it will make things that much easier for the rest of the army."

When she’d joined the liberation army in Isaach, Fee was still just a trainee pegasus knight. However, after fighting in battle over the span of a year, she'd evolved into a seasoned falcon knight. She couldn't compete with Altena, who wielded a Holy Weapon, but her flying and combat skills certainly weren't inferior to Altena's.

The enemy cavaliers were worried by the two flying soldier's attacks. Because they didn't know when they would be attacked, their paranoia grew stronger and stronger without end. And even when they were attacked, they only had a split second to react, so there was no way for them to counterattack. No matter how well-trained they were, all they could do was take damage in a one-sided battle, causing their morale to drop.

Once they were off the mountain road, the spirited imperial soldiers were no more. It wasn't just their numbers that had decreased. Their exhaustion and drop in morale was even greater.

The battle was as good as decided the moment they saw the main force of the liberation army spreading out and waiting for their arrival.

While the liberation army was marching towards Grutia Castle, Arion was in Thracia Castle, proposing a ceasefire over and over again. However, not a single soul agreed with him.

Several powerful iron ballistae were set up at Grutia Castle, however, the unit that was supposed to protect them was not there.

The liberation army's calvary entered the edge of the ballistae's range, then charged at full speed ahead. Their goal was to move as quickly as possible and lower their chances of getting hit by the ballistae's bolts.

Within the blink of an eye, they trampled the ballisticians, and captured Grutia Castle.

As if they had been waiting for that to happen, three dragon knight units flew from Thracia Castle and towards them all at once.

When Hannibal saw them, he turned pale. "That is the Three-Headed Dragon formation."

"What is that? This 'Three-Headed Dragon.'"

"Those units are each targeting Meath, Kapathogia, and Luthecia, a formation they call the 'Three-Headed Dragon.' They utilize it when an enemy is targeting Thracia and has gathered together too many of their troops in one place, and they wish to launch a counterattack all at once. Prince Arion practiced it many times."

"I'll defend Meath!" Altena said. "Lana should have a Warp Staff. I want to get to Meath as soon as possible."

"Will you be okay on your own?"

"If we divide our numbers up too much, the main army will probably come attack us here. For now, I will protect Meath!"

"Let's do as Princess Altena says." Hannibal agreed. "I'll protect Kapathogia. I want those remaining to head for Luthecia and intercept the enemy unit headed there. When we do, that's where the real battle should begin. If we take out their commander, the subordinates will surely change course. In other words, they won't continue moving towards Luthecia. And if we defeat them entirely, they'll want the others to come reinforce them. Until then, Lady Altena and I will take care of those other enemies."

The fight went exactly as Hannibal had predicted. When the dragon knight unit headed for Luthecia saw Fee trying to intercept them, they turned towards Grutia Castle to fight the liberation army.

Once she'd lured the dragon knight unit a good distance away and defeated them, Fee and several cavaliers turned towards Kapathogia to provide reinforcements there.

Hannibal wielded a flame sword and fought the oncoming dragon knights. Though he suffered several wounds, he did not lose even the slightest bit of energy. He was able to hold out until reinforcements came, just as he'd promised.

The day had come for Arion and his dragon knight unit to fight.

This was his response to Altena's final letter:

"As a warrior of Thracia, I cannot consider a ceasefire after you've killed this many of my soldiers. You too should know that very well. Now, I wait for the day of our final battle. From the beginning, I have thought not about whether we will win or lose, but that, as a warrior, my acts are not an embarrassment. Still, do not hold back. Tell Lord Seliph to come at us with everything he’s got."

Seliph said in response, "Thank you. Tomorrow, the last battle will finally begin. It may be difficult for you to fight, so you should stay on the rear line."

Altena did as Seliph suggested, and did not go out to the front line, instead flying high in the sky from the rear.

Even though the liberation army was fighting against the once great Thracian Dragon Knights, their numbers had already been so greatly reduced that the battle proceeded to go in the liberation army's favor.

Then, she saw a single dragon flying towards her.

"It's Big Brother." She realized it in an instant. "He's going to try to fight me."

Though she had Gáe Bolg, she knew that she was no match for Arion and Gungnir. At best, the fight would end in a tie.

'I will die by his hand.'

A sweet memory filled her heart.

When she'd stood up to Travant, she'd pictured her ideals in her mind, but never thought things would end up like this. For a moment, she worried that it was all her fault.

'What will become of Thracia now?'

She had no memory of Leonster. Thracia was her one and only home.

'Perhaps dying by his hand is the greatest end for me.’

She raised Gáe Bolg and yelled, "Let's do this, Brother!"

The two dragons flew towards each other in a straight line, with their opponent on their right side, as if they were in a jousting match.

As the distance between them shrank, Altena could see clearly the face of the man she loved. She could also see the sparkling tip of Gungnir, aiming straight for her.

'Watch my final attack!'

When they crossed paths, she thrust Gáe Bolg forward.

She felt resistance ripple through her arm.

However...

What about the attack aimed for her? Where was the blow from her beloved that was supposed to lead her to a sweet death?

She was in a state of total shock, but her eyes moved and laid upon her beloved's dragon, hurtling towards the ground.

"Brother!"

His dragon fell into a forest, and she lost sight of them.

"Brother!"

She burst into tears.

The battle was already over, but Altena did not return to land. She continued to fly through the skies, thinking of Arion.

No matter how many tears fell, they did not cease, continuing to stream down her face.

But, eventually, the time came and her tears to dry up.

And it was then that she understood the reason why her beloved did not strike her with Gungnir.

'Brother, you ordered me to live, right? I understand. I will live. I will fulfill my duty as the inheritor to Gáe Bolg. If that is what you wish, then that is what I will do. But, my life is terrible. All of my dreams have been crushed… The moment you were gone, I knew for sure. That for a long, long time, deep within the bottom of my heart, I've wanted you to hold me in your arms. Why did you give me that dream? And then go so nobly all by yourself…'

Altena soon landed at Thracia Castle.

Her tear stains had already vanished.

In their place was nothing but the face of Lance Knight Njörun's descendant.

#fire emblem #fe #fe4 #genealogy of the holy war #nintendo #super nintendo #snes #famicom #super famicom #seliph #japan #japanese #translation #novel #light novel #fe4 suzuki novelization translation

5 notes · View notes

jjkfire · 4 years

Text

me: bro don’t do it. don’t start another fic that you won’t finish. ok but imagine e2l jungkook

(don’t click if u hate unfinished fics)

jungkook // enemies to lovers // 3k words

With the rain pouring down outside, you hum delightedly as you bite into your juicy chicken sandwich that you had lathered in honey mustard. Sure, it wasn’t particularly healthy, but you could care less about that, especially when it’s 9 pm and you had just gotten off work. Not to mention the fact that you’re completely drenched seeing as you had forgotten to look at the weather app, again. At this point, you could care less. To be quite honest, you’ve become numb to everything. You guess that’s just what being another cog in the capitalist machine does to you.

It’s been over a year since you moved to the big city for a job. At the start you were a bright-eyed college graduate, ready to take on the world. Now, you’re just a shell of a human being, and one of the only things that can bring you joy is the very chicken sandwich you’re feasting on.

You like this place at this time of the night. It’s not as busy, just the soft chatter of some of the customers or rather the collective munching of all the other people who just got off work, feeling and looking exactly like you. The standing bar by the window is where all the tired, beaten down employees find solace with earphones plugged in and glazed over eyes looking out into the streets ahead. That’s your routine and just like any other night, you’re doing the same. Slowly chewing, as your mind drifts off somewhere, the music playing in your ears barely registering.

Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You see a semblance of a figure standing in front of you on the other side of the window pane, but you’ve encountered enough oddballs in all your trips to this store that you’ve learnt to ignore anyone that stands in front of the window. Most times, it’s some crazy guy, going on some rant, expecting you to care. Your eyes only refocus when the person next to you taps you on the shoulder and directs your attention to the man waving wildly in front of you. You squint, trying to make out the person’s face through the rain, but by then the person has moved on, disappeared. You only shrug at the person who tapped your shoulder, turning your attention back to your sandwich instead.

“Y/N?”

It’s soft, but you think you hear someone calling your name over the music.

“Y/N!”

You pull out your earphones, head whipping around just to make sure you weren’t going crazy and oh god, when your eyes meet his, you sure hope this is just a fever dream.

“Christ, it’s like you’re on a different planet. I’ve never had to work so hard to get someone’s attention before,” The boy in front of you says as he wipes his rain-soaked face with a paper napkin.

“Jungkook?” You mumble, confused, staring at him with your mouth hanging half opened. What was he doing here and more importantly what was he doing here talking to you?

“Yes, sweetheart,” He smiles. “Keep looking at me like that and I might get the wrong idea,” He smirks.

God, he hasn’t changed at all.

“How is it possible that every time I see you, your ego is just 5 times the size it was before?” You question. “How do you manage to find space to keep it in that tiny brain of yours?”

“Easy,” He grins. “I store it in a bigger organ,” He directs your attention simply with his eyes, looking down towards his nether region.

You swear you almost throw up in your mouth. You simply shake your head at him, placing your earphones back in your ears before you turn towards what mattered the most. Your chicken sandwich.

“Oh come on,” Jungkook chuckles, yanking your earphones out. You absolutely hated it when people do that. “That’s no way to treat an old friend. Why the cold shoulder?”

“In what universe were we ever friends?” You ask. “Acquaintances maybe, but never friends.”

“Ah, that hurt,” He groans, clutching his chest. “You mean you don’t consider all the times I chased you around school with worms in my hands, quality time with a friend?”

“No,” You answer, with a curt smile. “And just in case you’re wondering, activities such as yanking my hair, putting tadpoles in my water and double knotting my shoelaces together under the table are also other events I don’t consider quality time with a friend.”

“Shame,” The boy pouts. “I really thought we were the best of friends.”

You roll your eyes at him, though a hint of a smile shows.

Jungkook, truly and genuinely is nothing more than an acquaintance… even if, both your parents wish otherwise. See, the two of you attended the same primary school and that’s how your mother had met his. After yet another torturous day at school with Jungkook attempting to put a live frog in your bag, you had ran up to your mother in tears. She assured you that she was going to have a stern talk with this Jungkook boy. She stepped up, ready to give the boy a piece of her mind when Jungkook’s mother stormed right up, ready to fight. It was hostile at first but soon enough the mothers were laughing together. Wait. This wasn’t what you wanted. After a lengthy chat, one that basically had both you and Jungkook ready to take a nap right on the bench the two of you had been sitting on, you heard your mother making plans to have tea with his mother one day. Hold on. You definitely didn’t want that. Yet, it happened. Jungkook never got reprimanded for trying to put a live frog in your bag and as your mother became friends with his mother, and later, best friends, Jungkook would soon earn a pass to play whatever heinous prank he wanted on you. Oh, but that meant so did you and so began the war between you and Jungkook.

Though you’ll agree that you weren’t quite as creative as Jungkook when it came to coming up with disgusting pranks, you could hurt him in different ways. See, Jungkook wasn’t the most studious kid and he was abysmal at math. You’ve seen him try to hide his report card many times, yet somehow or the rather, courtesy of you, it would end up straight in his mother’s hands. Oh, you still remember the way he would look at you. If looks could kill, you would’ve been dead and buried 50 times over. In any case, whatever amount of nagging Jungkook got wasn’t your problem. If he wanted it to stop, he should spend less time collecting tadpoles and more time studying.

Your war with Jungkook continued on until you were 12. By then, you had many battle scars. You’ve had gum stuck in your hair, had your shoes dipped in sewage water, your textbook put up onto the ceiling fan, among many other seemingly ‘harmless’ pranks that your mother would shrug off. If you had to go on living like this, there’s no telling what you would do to the boy. Luckily, as the year came to a close, and all the students got their results from the national test, you receive the best news you’ve ever heard. You had almost leaped with joy when Jungkook’s mother told you which school was bound for, it was the one just a few streets away, while you, you had gotten into a private school in the neighbouring district considering that you had passed the test with flying colours.

So began the ceasefire between you and Jungkook, or so you thought.

Granted, life was better now that you didn’t see Jungkook every day but that didn’t mean he was out of your life forever. Perhaps, you thought now that you and Jungkook were at different schools, your mothers wouldn’t be close considering they didn’t get to catchup every time they picked the both of you up from school. Oh, how wrong you were. Not only did your mothers stay friends, but soon enough, your fathers became golfing buddies too. Great. Just wonderful.

The worst part about having your fathers become golfing buddies was the fact that they would have these huge get togethers with all the other golfers and their families. They were quarterly events and though the adults had great fun with their booze and chit-chat, it was almost always awkward for the kids. All the kids would be lumped together in multiple ‘kids tables’ and everyone would just sit and stare at each other, trying to make small talk. Though you hated it, the food was almost always amazing and even if you had to be seated next to Jungkook, you didn’t mind because that meant his brother was never too far away.

You’ve had a crush on his brother, Junghoon, for as long as you can remember. Sure, he was four years older but he was everything Jungkook wasn’t. He was nice, sweet and best of all, he never tried putting tadpoles into your drink, or sticking gum in your hair. In fact, you think he’s the only one that listens to you and tells Jungkook off for misbehaving. He was an angel, your saving grace, the boy you would forever be in love with. Jungkook tells you that you’re wasting your time, that his brother has been dating the same girl since he was 11 and he was 17 now. Just because there’s a goalkeeper in front of a goal, doesn’t mean you couldn’t score, you would remind him.

So, that’s how those quarterly dinners went. You dreamily conversing with his older brother while Jungkook made his moves on all the girls in the room. That is, until Junghoon started bringing his girlfriend to the events. Now, you had to sit there and watch them act all lovey-dovey while you were stuck next to Jungkook. Wonderful. Of course, it was of no help that puberty seemed to hit Jungkook like a train. He went from looking lanky and shabby to… hot. As much as you hated the boy, you couldn’t deny that he was plain attractive. If anything, the girls at the dinners, constantly trying to talk and flirt with him was a glaring reminder of how good looking he’d become. It wasn’t like you were staring but he had a well-built chest, solid thighs and of course his face that bordered between cute and straight up sultry depending on how he styled his hair. Towards the later years, he started leaning away from his favourite bowl cut, which meant it started getting harder to pretend that you most definitely thought he was handsome and if he wasn’t the Jungkook that you knew, you’d be like any one of the other girls trying to strike up a conversation with him.

Despite it all, you still looked forward to the dinners because of the delicious food, and perhaps also because you and Jungkook would sneak towards the table at the back where the bottles of wine and hard liquor were placed, often stealing a sip or two when no one was looking. As the years went by, the two of you got bolder, both pouring yourselves a generous serving of whiskey and of course pouring in some coke after that to make it seem like you were good little kids, sipping on soda. Though from afar, it may seem like you and Jungkook were friends, you were adamant that the two of you were nothing more than acquaintances. It wasn’t very easy to convince people because he often posted up pictures of the two of you. He usually looked great in them meanwhile he usually caught you while you’re placing your spoon into your mouth, or while you’re in the midst of sneezing. It was deliberate of course and you had expected nothing less from Jeon Jungkook.

Though Jungkook and you didn’t share the same circle of friends, most of your classmates knew him. With a face like that, of course they did. Of course, the fact that he was exceptional at sports didn’t help. He’d gotten close to some of your friends when he would meet them at sports meets. All the schools in the same district would often duke it out before moving on to the next level, and the next until they reached the state level and finally, nationals. Jungkook got as far as the state level when it came to swimming. Honestly, he had the talent to go all the way, but he was always too busy trying to chat up girls instead of trying to best his own record. In fact, you think he only decided to be a swimmer because he could post pictures of himself in that itty-bitty swimming costume and get all the girls to swoon. Also, yes, you’ve been forced to attend his swim meets, usually at the request of his mother and god, it was torture trying to pretend like you weren’t staring at the boy half the time. You just had to admit that you loved the fact that he had that V-line. God, what you’d give if you could just run your finger along— no, never mind, thoughts like that weren’t meant to be wasted on boys like him.

Many times, you’ve had girls in your school come up to ask you if you could perhaps introduce him to them. You would often say no, but that you could give them the next best thing and that is his number. Can’t you at least only give my number to the hot ones? Jungkook would ask you when he saw you at the quarterly dinners. You would tell him that each time you gave out his number was only revenge for each tadpole he had put into your water bottle back in primary school. God, you’re so petty, he would groan. He promised he’d get his revenge on you too.

As high school rolled on to college, Jungkook had learnt that mentioning your name to his mother gave him the all good sign to go hang out until whatever time he wanted. If my mum calls, just tell her I’m with you, he would say. Truth is, the two of you really would be together, except on the opposite end of the same club. So, you’d oblige when he would ask you to pose for a picture together. In fact, you needed to send one to your mother too because you had told her the same lie, that you’d be hanging out with Jungkook for the night. The two of you usually staged the photo, walking to a nearby restaurant, to sit down and snap a picture before heading to the club.

Back at the club, the two of you were truly acquaintances at best. A rare smile, an even rarer few shared sentences and that was it. Of course, barring the times Jungkook would send his friends your way for a neat little prank. You had caught on pretty quick though. Anytime, a boy would approach you, your go to sentence would be, if Jungkook sent you then sure, I’d give you my number but only if we split whatever it is he’s giving you. So that’s how you ended up with a few extra ten dollar bills by the end of the month. Even so, it started getting annoying, so of course, you had gone up to tell Jungkook that you’ve had enough. At that he only scoffed before telling you that each time he sent a boy your way was only revenge for all the times you had given out his number. He promised that unlike you he only sent the good-looking boys your way… because it looked like you could use a good lay. Oh, you wanted to strangle him right there and then.

After that, you got smart. You told any of the boys that came your way that you were willing to pay double of whatever Jungkook was paying if they would kick him in the balls for you. Turns out boys aren’t quite loyal and after being assaulted a few too many times, Jungkook learns to stop sending boys your way. You thought that would be the end of it, that you would be able to enjoy your nights in peace but You should’ve known better. Jungkook was hard to miss at the club. He was loud, obnoxious, and god, did he look good in a button down. If anyone looked closely, they would’ve mistaken you for any other girl, almost drooling as you watched him sip from his whiskey glass, seated on the couch with his legs spread out. He would wink in your direction, as if inviting you take a seat. Fuck, what you’d give to do just that. To grind down on him and put your hands on his broad chests that you— no, wait, thoughts like these really shouldn’t be wasted on boys like Jungkook. Of course, your mind would never really listen, so you would find one of his friends instead, giving Jungkook a full view of what could have been if he wasn’t such a dickhead.

Ignoring Jungkook was a tough task, really, and honestly if he tried anything more than harmless flirting with you, you think you would end up under him in less than a second. Which of course, is bad news. You truly had no self-control when it came to handsome men, but to be fair… look at him. Would any sane person say no? However, fortunately for you, you would get your one and only true, clean break from Jungkook. University. The two of you had gone to universities on opposite coasts and so, the two of you hadn’t seen each other in three good years. You had spent your breaks volunteering and travelling and it seemed so did Jungkook. Whenever the two of you went back home, one of you would have already left. Of course, you still knew what he was up to. It seemed like he was getting even more attention in university. It shouldn’t surprise you. Being on a university campus meant everyone was your age and equally as horny, so of course he was having fun. To be fair, so were you. In any case, you think whatever lingering attraction or rather lust you felt for the boy, had long died away. Yes, that is what you thought… until of course you find Jungkook standing in front of you after four long years of not seeing him and against all laws of nature, it seems like puberty had hit him a second time. That or your dry spell was just really starting to get to you. You reasoned that you would be okay, that this would be the one and only time you and him would run into each other in a city so big, but no, you would run into him time and time again. Then he would convince you to do something so stupid, that you believe the only explanation to you saying yes was that you were possessed. That’s the only way to think about it… because why else would one say yes to sharing a studio apartment with the devil incarnate, Jeon Jungkook himself?

click for some more secret sauce (aka my collection of unfinished fics bc i have no self control)

14 notes · View notes

askiisoft · 5 years

Text

FAN ART FRIDAY: ALL THE WARRIORS, Part 4

This is it, ladies and gentlemen. For the past three weeks, I’ve had the pleasure of sharing the community’s original characters in the world of Katana ZERO—from war heroes to psycho killers, and everything in between—drawn by some the most creative and talented fan artists I’ve ever met.

Today we salute the last of New Mecca’s “lost generation” in the jam-packed finale to All the Warriors. Those late to the party can catch up on the previous parts here: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

Let’s begin.

[WARNING: The work herein is based on fan creations, and should not be considered canon.]

Alpha 7, “Jill” by @daratsugu

She had it all. A sports star since high school, Jill could have made history as a legendary athlete or breathtaking model. But beneath her physique and beauty was a strong heart, one that desired to make a difference in the world somehow. So when government suits approached her seeking peak physical specimens for trials of a ‘radical life-saving drug’, she accepted eagerly.

Not long afterwards, the war began.

Jill’s service record afterwards remains a mystery, given her lackluster communication skills and endemic shyness. But whatever she witnessed on the battlefield, it never blunted her kindness or dampened her faith in humanity. There is comfort in the certainty of her own mortality, and she’s determined to spend her final days doing as much good as she can.

By @daratsugu

—

Gamma 6 by @wpc0123wpc

More well-known than the deadliest assassins and most fearsome mafia dons, one man is famous across every restaurant in Chinatown: the ‘chao fan shen’, or “fried rice god”, known for his slovenly appearance, incredible combat skills, and insatiable appetite for his namesake. Of course, that’s not to say he’s a glutton—Six has developed an extremely discriminating palate, and any chef who skimps on the diced pork or sesame oil can expect a sound rebuke.

If only he paid as much attention in everyday life. Because of his poor eyesight and ever-present headphones, he’s an easy mark for thieves like Gamma 12 or enterprising muggers...or so it seems. Chinatown residents swear they’ve witnessed him pull an executioner’s battleaxe from his guitar case, but surely that’s just Eastern superstition. Right?

By @wpc0123wpc

—

Gamma 22, “TnT” by @_sbserpent

"Be silent, dress loudly.”

ZZ’s selective mutism hasn’t stopped her from drawing the eye of passerby. Her prominent back scars, perpetual bedhead hair, and psychedelic rainbow clothing are almost begging to be ridiculed. Those who know ZZ are smart enough not to tease her about it; others who make that mistake find themselves adding a few splashes of red to her outfit.

Since moving to the Second District, her fashion sense has actually started a minor fad among its population of wealthy young heiresses and bachelorettes, who have begun tousling their hair and wearing multicolored stockings in crass imitation. She’s even been featured in a few street fashion magazines, albeit unnamed. ZZ doesn’t mind the attention, so long as their photographers stay out of her way and keep their mouths shut...

“I warned you.” By @_sbserpent

—

Beta 111, “Gurkha” by @55_yamisan

There may be someone who once said, “I want to go back together.”

There may be someone who once shared their personal space.

There may be someone who didn’t want to die, and someone else who no longer wants to live...

All illustrations by @55_yamisan

—

Gamma 30, “Thirty” by @meto1030

Just as other Gamma NULLs were violently psychotic or narcissistic, Gamma 30′s disorder was selflessness to a fault, believing any amount of suffering was worthwhile if it made things even a little easier for someone else. As a nurse or aid worker, Thirty could have done so much good, had they not been blessed with extreme reactiveness to Chronos that placed them squarely within a Gamma kill-squad.

Every waking moment was spent in neurosis, desperately thinking of ways they could possibly be of service around base camp, and each rest was filled with nightmares of squadmates buried under rubble or pinned by enemy fire, desperately crying out for help as Thirty fruitlessly crawled to them, trapped in slow motion.

Once the fighting had ended and a ceasefire declared, the only way Thirty could imagine to be of use was becoming a test subject in the government labs, a position typically reserved for NULL candidates too weak to warrant a number and rank. There, at least, they are shielded from the predatory instincts of other NULL who would not hesitate to exploit Thirty’s altruism.

By @meto1030

—

Gamma 61, “Geist” by @dawnygoi

Just because you’re living hand-to-mouth doesn’t mean you can’t pursue your passion. Due to their various psychoses, Gamma troopers developed more eccentricities than their predecessors—the most common being increased sensitivity to music. Their preferred genres varied, but a Gamma NULL could be found humming or nodding their head some invisible beat before or after a battle.

For Gamma 61, his favorite beat was the deafening, breakneck rhythm of his trusty man-portable minigun, and he often burned through hundreds of rounds just to hear its song, filled with the sharpest crescendos and deepest bass. Sadly, it’s a luxury he can no longer afford, and he suffers the indignity of killing his targets with simple knives and other concealable weapons in order to afford his ‘medicine’.

—

Gamma 33, “Weasel” by @zebdraws

As a legendary rock star once said, “ You see, you don't have to live like a refugee.”

When government spooks are after your head, you have two choices: spend what’s left of your life on the run, or become the biggest musical sensation New Mecca has ever known.

As a soldier, Weasel was fiercely competitive, treating every ally as a potential rival and going to extreme lengths to win any wager, even if it meant resorting to violence. That never changed after he discovered his love of music, even though his musical talents are utterly dreadful, like most NULL.

His “invasion” of several high-profile concerts prompted many venues in the city to begin employing armed security to patrol their dance floors, most notably Club Neon. However, the untimely death of DJ Electrohead has skyrocketed Weasel to stardom as Second District clubs scramble to book a replacement act.

—

Gamma 511 by @Am3002814

On an employment survey for government security, Gamma 511 would fail by every metric: he’s paranoid, meek, and highly conspicuous thanks to his numerous nervous tics that emerge at even the slightest hint of confrontation. Even when mixed in a crowd, he seems to have an uncanny presence that unnerves those around him. Yet his security record is spotless, and none of his charges have ever come to harm.

So what exactly about 511 sets so many ill at ease? Could it be his shifty gaze, restlessly darting about at strangers’ throats, stomachs, and nether regions? Maybe his constant and profuse sweating, staining his ill-fitting trench coat even on a cold winter morning? Or perhaps it’s the faint “ ゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴ “ that permeates the air as he walks by with his awkward, loping gait...?

Truly, it’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

By @Am3002814

—

Beta 39, by @lyexueyee

Stealth and infiltration is an art, not a science. Beta 39′s brand of assassination involves hiding in plain sight—in a crowd wearing her perpetually tired and glum expression, or standing outside a store with hands on her hips, as if impatiently waiting for someone. She deflects attention so well, no one notices the bent and bloodied length of pipe sticking out of her faux-high school bag.

“Hey, those are some cute hairpins!” A student on the train remarks. “Nnh,” 39 murmurs.

“Oh, you must be part of the kendo club!” An old woman exclaims, and is met with a half-lidded stare and a deep, echoing silence.

Hours later, a beat cop finds a local mobster dead in an alley behind his favorite bar, bearing signs of blunt trauma and several stab wounds from a low angle. His gun lies nearby, not a single shot fired. No suspects are ever found.

By @lyexueyee

—

Beta 34, “Ephemera” by @BMb_kngw

“What use is a tape that can only be rewound three times?”

That was what Ephemera overheard following his fitness trials and physical examination. The researchers had never encountered his like before: a genetic trait that resisted the effects of Chronos, such that a full dose would only allow him a few minutes of precognition and a negligible boost in reflexes—not even on par with Alpha-class NULL. His training results and leadership scores had topped the charts, but by a twist of fate, he barely escaped being sent to the labs.

Even after being assigned to a frontline squad, Ephemera faced continued stigma. Some refused to acknowledge him as “one of them” at all, and rumors spread that his ‘condition’ was contagious, and merely being around him could sap others of their Chronos abilities.

The day he was rushed to the infirmary, his leg a bloodied stump, some jeered that any other NULL could have “reset” to undo such an injury. But oh, how the tables have turned. As it turned out, his ‘condition’ also shielded him from any symptoms of withdrawal. He lives now as a free man, one of the few NULL able to truly leave the war behind.

By @BMb_kngw

—

Beta 18, “Gav” by @smugeroni

Actions speak louder than words. Anyone who’s pried into the past of a Cromag War vet knows how bitter and cagey they get, but Gav’s wartime injury lets him dodge questions about his service days and move onto the crucial next step of healing and atonement. Homeless veterans who would otherwise despise those “test tube freaks” are thankful for his constant charity and unreasonably tasty meals.

There are still traces of a fighter behind his gentle smile: his bullet-riddled motorbike lies rusting in storage downtown, and he keeps a gun stowed behind the counter for the occasional mob racketeer. No one knows who steered Gav away from his life as a road warrior—who they were to him, or whether they’re dead or alive—but they take comfort in knowing a man can change, and not always for the worse.

—

Beta 49, “D.D.” by @sapheiri

On her first sortie as a rookie NULL, D.D. envisioned a battle worthy of pre-war action movies: fiery explosions at her back, bullets whizzing past her ears, and jets flying overhead as she charged the enemy lines, firing a gun in each hand.

Instead, she found a nightmare. The enemy had set traps and laid ambushes everywhere; the laboratory eggheads had assured her that Chronos had made her immortal, but in that desolate jungle her faith shattered. She was found quivering in a muddy ditch, half-deafened by a close-range blast and wearing socks after forgetting to lace up her combat boots.

Instead of being discharged for proper therapy and recovery, D.D. became a test case for second-generation Prozium, designed to deaden emotions and instill obedience. She returned calm and combat-ready days later, and the researchers commended themselves for their success. They would later come to fear D.D. after seeing her in action.

Today, she can truly realize her former action-heroine fantasies, blasting her way past dozens of gunmen with guns akimbo and walking away unscathed. But she can feel no pleasure from it, nor reflect on the horror at the killing machine she’s become. Some say she still wears her boots unlaced to recapture the rush of danger and fear of death from that first mission, something she has now lost forever.

By @sapheiri

—

Gamma 22 by @dodokubobo

An ideal army is a combination of tactical genius and strict discipline. Gamma 22 had neither, leaning entirely on his remarkable aptitude for Chronos and prowess with his twin katanas to propel him through disciplinary headaches that would have earned any other soldier weeks in the brig. Evidently, it worked; drill instructors ignored his constant absence from combat drills and loud snoring during briefings. As long as he got things done, who cared?

This “golden child” mentality has only swelled his ego since the NULL diaspora, taking what he wants and abusing his abilities to do as he pleases. This makes him an obvious target, but many a foe have seen their cunning ambushes and clever traps fall apart in the face of 22′s sheer speed and skill. Among the New Meccan underworld, there is one piece of advice passed down to every aspiring hitman and bounty hunter: “Do not pursue Gamma 22.”

By @dodokubobo

—

Beta 66 by @temeokopn

Before the cybernet made information widely accessible to the masses, intel had to be collected the old-fashioned way: through spying, stealth, or skullduggery. This was the perfect calling for Beta 66, who excelled at staying out of sight.

On certain scouting missions, he would wait hours, even days, for the enemy to trip a land mine or succumb to slow-acting poison. And as he waited, he would listen to the sounds of wilderness and scan the night sky through his mask, counting the stars.

In a post-war New Mecca hostile to veterans, 66′s life became a more cloistered affair, surviving as an information broker instead of risking his life behind enemy lines It was only days after his data stream sputtered out that anyone discovered his absence.

One can only hope 66 found the stars he so loved.

“I go to the stars.” By @temeokopn

—

Beta 9 “Heads” & Beta 10, “Tails” by Jicker

Dynamic duos are nothing new to the New Meccan lowlife, but Heads & Tails are trailblazers in terms of brother-and-sister team-ups. In between sibling quarrels over the superiority of shuriken or grenades, these two clean up mafia hideouts over twice as fast as a single NULL, wordlessly executing well-worn strategies they developed on the battlefield during their first missions against the Cromags; Heads cuts down obstacles to widen her brother’s line of sight or deflects bullets as he reloads, while Tails pins the enemy with suppressing fire as his sister closes the distance with her blade.

Truth be told, their combined efforts often barely compare to some of the carnage a Gamma NULL could unleash. The difference is that, unlike a Gamma, Heads & Tails can’t be bought, nor bargained with. They can’t be bribed with Chronos or crippled by withdrawal. Whatever their reason for isolating themselves from other NULL, it’s clear that the only allies they need are each other.

“We have a Dragon to slay.” By Jicker

—

Alpha 66 by @ren_hyuga

Stella von Ruthuberia’s regal name suggests a relation to one of the prestigious Old Families, though pre-war records make no mention of her in any aristocratic lineage. How someone of her social status was inducted into the NULL corps remains an even deeper mystery. Some claim her to be an illegitimate heir cast out by her family to die inconspicuously, while a few believe she sought the immortalizing power of Chronos, something beyond what mere wealth could provide.

Since her near-fatal injury and the convoluted grafting procedure that surpassed all previous prostheses, the illusive von Ruthuberia has retreated from the public eye, her estate guarded by patrols day and night.

However, some say her hermetic existence is merely an act, and amid a vast stockpile of ill-gotten Chronos, she is every bit as deadly as when she first donned her jet-black robes...

—

Gamma 72, “Nightingale” by @throjnx

Any crime boss worth their salt knew the prospect of having an immortal assassin at your beck and call was too good to be true. It was. The Erlkings, on the other hand, were a two-bit smuggling racket that saw Nightingale as their ticket out of the Fifth District, whose residents could scarcely afford their services or protection fees.

It worked, for a time. None of the other gangs in their district had managed to snag a Gamma NULL, and they quickly packed up and left once dozens of their number went missing, and police seldom bothered to venture that far out. But the Erlkings hadn’t anticipated how much Chronos Nightingale required nor how pure it had to be, neither of which their supplier could provide.

When they tried making up the difference using threats and blackmail, there was only one way things could end.

—

Alpha 27, “Nina” by @HihumiHii

Like a spider spinning its web, the labyrinthine catwalks and cramped alleys of New Mecca are the perfect hunting ground for a femme fatale like Alpha 27. Her clientele are exclusive and her fees exorbitant, but her unique skillset is enough to outwit any bounty hunter and even the occasional Gamma NULL.

Using a vast network of tripwires and strings that crisscross her territory, she can detect activity through the slightest vibrations, from the pounding of raindrops to the footsteps of a potential victim. Most never glimpse their killer, strangled or sliced to bits in her near-invisible webs of razor wire. Others hunt her fruitlessly, unaware she has long since fled.

Outside of contract killings, she frequents the most exclusive social circles in New Mecca to flaunt her mysterious wealth, and is one of the few assassins capable of operating in the near-impenetrable First District thanks to her unsuspecting government acquaintances.

—

Gamma 87 by childrenofgungnir

For Gamma 87, each day is a constant battle between “Life’s pretty OK. I got a steady gig and plenty of the blue stuff,” and “What am I still doing here? We lost the war. I keep this up, I’m going to end up dead.”

It’s been over half a decade since Charlotte experienced a panic attack or felt stress at the thought of taking a human life, back when she could still count her kills on two hands. These days, it seems to come easier.

Whenever she sees a penniless Alpha sulking at the bar in withdrawal, she counts her blessings under her breath. But Charlotte can’t help but feel that she’s lost a part of herself in those intervening years—the heartbroken daughter who would have tearfully begged her parents why they let the men in suits take her, instead of the swordswoman who casually sliced them to pieces and emptied their pockets.

Every time, she stops the train of thought right there. Maybe it’s better this way.

By childrenofgungnir

—

Gamma 21, “Lil’ Tomato” by @531012733Kyling

There are few things that can surpass the power of effective teamwork, something Gamma 21 and his partner-in-crime Gamma 37 exemplify. Brains and brawn. Long-distance sniping and up-close fisticuffs. Terrible guitar-playing and midnight drag races.

21 is another in a long line of NULL with an affinity for music but almost no talent for it. Zero’s noisy neighbors can’t compare to the tedium of hearing 21 croon and pluck at the same few sour chords for hours, and his housemate 37 certainly doesn’t seem like someone who would put up with it for long.

For some reason, passerby don’t leave him as much money when 37 is hanging around...

By @531012733Kyling

—

Gamma 37 by @531012733Kyling

While other Gamma troopers favored blades and bullets, Gamma 37 preferred to pummel her enemies with both fists, aided by a pair of high-powered “boxing gloves” that amplified every blow. She scoffed at rookie NULL trying to deflect bullets with their puny blades as her gauntlets easily shielded her from volleys of machine gun fire—that is, until an errant anti-materiel round shattered her glove and nearly took her hand with it.

In the the intervening years, 37 has developed a custom fighting style based around her remaining gauntlet, learning to instead shift her weight and weave between enemy blows to deliver a bone-shattering right hook. She’s even able to use it while riding her motorbike, which has proved invaluable in chasing down targets.

By @531012733Kyling

—

Alpha 12, “Green Demon” by @IDUnknownForte

Whoo, I’ll have to tread carefully on this one. Alpha 12 is apparently a transplant from a Katana ZERO roleplay server, so she likely has lots of existing history that I don’t want to tread on.

What I will say is that I love the idea of a NULL dive bar like Lucky’s Bar and Grill. On Friday night, all the down-and-out assassins trudge in to their usual seats, get extremely drunk, and yell about how they’d better start getting some respect because they “could level *hic* this whole f*cking city if [they] wanted to”, all while Alpha 12 slowly nods her head from behind the counter and pours out another round. Long live the revolution.

—

Beta 13, “Kata” by @couriervictor

Survival in the Third District is a daily struggle. But for every soldier, there comes a point where survival is no longer enough.

Working for Dr. Alvensleben brought Kata to this point quickly—watching the doctor run hapless trespassers through impossible deathtraps day after day, hunting down targets for an employer he’d never met in person, and receiving his Chronos syringes via a *clink* in the pneumatic tube and a stilted pre-recorded message.

With hope of Gamma 9 stumbling into the Slaughterhouse fading bit by bit, Kata considers the consequences of crossing the only man with the knowledge and resources to manufacture Chronos, and whether he would survive...

—

Alpha 19, “Tameiki” by @matowaar

There are few NULL who could claim to know Tameiki to any degree; to most, she was a terrifying, twitchy blur of facial features, zipping from room to room and victim to victim with inhuman speed. Only her closest squadmates, in moments of intense time dilation, could catch a glimpse of her true face, and even then only an expressionless mask resigned to marching alone amidst an army.

Though still communicating chiefly through writing, she has attempted to overcome her unique circumstances through focused training, such as remaining motionless for extended periods or slowing her speech enough to be audible to average human perception. She has even experimented with Chronos withdrawal, testing if the gradual ebbing of time can let her experience life at the same speed as those around her.

If the ultimate fate of any NULL is to become frozen forever in time, how much longer would that eternity feel to Tameiki...?

—

Beta 12, “Twelve” by @fresh_fren

What’s easily broken is not so easily put back together.

Since the Cromags didn’t fully grasp the concept of a ‘non-combatant’, Beta 12′s pacifism in the field earned her ridicule from both her comrades and the enemy. While other NULL treated battles as competitive killing sprees, for Twelve each encounter was like an escort mission—an unending effort to protect squadmates who loved nothing more than charging at machine gun nests with a knife. Can you imagine how frustrating that was?

Despite braving death to retrieve her teammates countless times, she was seldom recognized for her courage, and it became disheartening to incapacitate enemies non-lethally only to watch another NULL shoot them in the head moments later.

Understandably, she hasn’t bothered keeping in touch with her former comrades, and few would believe a kind-hearted pacifist like her was once a veteran, anyway...

—

Gamma 75, “Elvis” by A Dishrag

"Hitting the broad side of a Cromag hut” was a corny insult that floated around New Mecca during the war, but for Elvis it was a job description, one that he was embarrassed to mention during the morning briefings or off-duty get-togethers at the local bar. ‘Tactical demolition’, he called it, but he knew it was an excuse; most of the sheet-metal huts he destroyed could’ve been knocked over by stiff breeze, not a state-of-the-art EMF railgun firing slugs at 4,000 meters a second.

At least they let him keep the uniform and gun when he left the corps, though “let” would be a strong word for it. He simply stuffed the gear into a Sakura Redux X Gaiden shoulder bag and walked out of the barracks, never to return. So far no one’s called him about it, so he figures it’s safe enough to incorporate into his cosplay outfit as long as he keeps the safety on. Right?

—

Gamma 13, “Reaper” & Gamma 14, “Mr. Bomber Glove” by @LoverHigh24

Twice the NULL, twice the withdrawal. It seems some Gamma NULLs, particularly those with complementary skillsets, stuck together in the aftermath of the war instead of turning on each other in their addiction. Rain and Kyle found common ground in their countryside roots, having worked as a team in the final days of the conflict and both sensing the war effort going south.

They’d bid farewell to their neighbors years ago, ready to die as they marched off to war. They agreed they’d be happy enough to see home one last time and spend the eternity lying in their childhood beds, instead of some seedy Third District bar. Yet, as mysterious new shipments of ‘dirty’ Chronos began flooding the market, they find themselves fighting against their former comrades to uncover the source...

—

??? by @Mr_BowerBird

You’re right, spear guy. I don’t know.

I don’t know quite what to make of this guy. His weapon, a Japanese naginata, is quite cool, but last I checked the Cromags didn’t really fight on horseback. His dossier had no name, NULL class, or number. There are no Gamma, Beta, or Alpha NULL OCs I’ve received with the number ‘32′ that was mentioned in his bio. Wish I had more to say, but it feels like I fell asleep in history class and only caught the last three minutes of an hour-long lecture.

—

Alpha 22 by @nbsmgnm

As an Alpha-series cadet, poor Antonio saw action in the opening weeks of the Cromag conflict—before the NULL program became semi-public knowledge, before the “child killings” were in the Second District papers and protest signs, and long before the introduction of Gamma NULL, who didn’t much care who they killed.

When an enemy sniper had his squad pinned down from a high forest ridge, Antonio was ordered to flank them while the others drew their fire. Tactically, it was sound: he was the smallest and thus stealthiest member of the team. But what he found was a Cromag child prone in the grass, barefoot and scanning the jungle treeline with a rifle far twice his size. A boy or girl, he couldn’t tell nor recall afterwards, for the next thing he remembered was being pulled off their mutilated corpse, his fingers around a bloodied combat knife and voice hoarse from screaming.

His commander patted him on the back and congratulated for a job well done, ignoring the bloodshot terror in his eyes. For weeks after he was plagued by nightmares, his hands awash in red and multicolored eyes, so many eyes, staring from the jungle in all directions.

His death would later be ruled as a suicide. He would not be the last.

—

Gamma 44, “Luminous” by @hieroparsley

Sometimes, one of the best reasons to keep fighting is for another person—not a partner in crime, but someone to protect. At some point, Luminous was as her ward Anomaly is now: aimless and regretful, fearing for their life but lacking any reason to keep living. Since Luminous took care of the government agents who had tracked Anomaly from her Third District apartment and hacker lair, the two have been evading their watchful eye ever since.

Sometimes their friendship is marred by arguments over what to do with Anomaly’s data on the NULL project: Luminous seeks to disseminate it to the public, either via the cybernet or print, while Anomaly argues for simply destroying the data, in the meager hopes it will save them from the government crosshairs. But Luminous has seen what they’re capable of; she remembers torching the homes of Cromag ‘collaborators’ even after they housed and sheltered New Meccan troops. Forgiveness is not in their vocabulary.

—

Anomaly by @hieroparsley

—

And, at last, we’re done.

Over the past month, it’s been great seeing not only the diverse and interesting backstories various artists derived from the scant details of Katana ZERO’s world, but also the friendships that sprang up between fan artists, drawing tributes of each other’s OCs befriending/antagonizing one another and creating an immersive world of NULL just under New Mecca’s surface. It’s been a magical thing to witness, and I hope it continues

A deep thank-you to everyone who submitted their OC to this multi-series showcase, and I’m sorry if it took until now to see your character featured. I needed to save some of the best for last!

I originally planned this event as a finale for the Katana ZERO Fan Art Fridays, but since people seem to be enjoying them, next week I’ll be returning to ‘theme weeks’ for a regular schedule.

Truly, we are...”all the warriors”!

By @wqwrppwu

#katana zero #askiisoft #devolver digital #fan art friday #fan art #original character #do #not #steal #nintendo switch

41 notes · View notes

spacecath · 6 years

Text

Politics, Reylo fanfic

Here’s the very first chapter of my Reylo fanfic under the working title Politics (a possible title I’ve always known you). Like many before me, I was toying with the idea of “what if Rey said yes” and since I couldn’t get it out of my system, I wrote what might have happened.

I’ll put it up on AO3 as soon as I figure out where this story is going and write a few more chapters.

Also I should really really get back to editing my WIP (working title Nexus - thematically a cross between Norse mythology and Star Wars), but my heart is a sucker for a quick fix, ergo am here, hoping someone would stumble upon my post and be kind enough to give me feedback.

“Please,” he says, his troubled eyes imploring, his extended hand trembling. That she could somehow deal with. What she finds unbearable is how his voice cracks even in that short word, a word that could be a stand-alone book, containing the history of Ben Solo’s lonely life. And how he swallows the rest of the words, as if afraid to let them float around him, his full mouth one long, tight line behind which those unsaid words jumble. Another join me swallowed in fear of rejection.

She can’t say yes, not yet, but doesn’t say no either. She makes a few steps - not towards him, but aside, - for he’s blocking her view of the mutilated Snoke’s body by the throne and his slaughtered guard all around it. They did it together, in unison, standing side by side or back to back, protecting each other. They can work together in the battle. But outside the battlefield there are minefields of politics and diplomacy, and right and wrong words and false pretenses. And lots of fake smiles, she has already had a glimpse of it all.

Her eyes dart toward the holo-projector with shiny, moving dots - all what’s left of the decimated Resistance she belongs to with all her heart. She should be there, with Poe and Finn and Ben’s own mother, Princess Leia. Not here with him. And yet, she’s here because she believed she could change him, mold the Force in him into something she can work with, and even though he didn’t exactly turn out to be clay in her hands, he made some difficult decisions because of her. She presses fingers on her temples. She knows she has to act fast, but she also knows she has to be careful what exactly she is saying yes to.

She’s not sure she can put in words everything that’s been happening between them during those sessions where Force made them see each other; she can’t define it, she can’t vivisect her own feelings. But she knows it’s bigger than both of them.

She glances again towards the leftovers of Snoke’s body.

Maybe everything is politics as they say. Maybe she should use the leverage she has at this particular moment and work from there, use her undeniable influence on the new Supreme leader of the First order. Not listen to her divided heart. Just use her brain to calculate the best possible outcome. She wouldn’t have survived all those scavenging years on Jakku alone if she weren’t capable of that.

His grandfather’s lightsaber is hanging limply in his hand - the same one he used to kill Snoke, the same one she threw to him to save his life, while her heart was beating somewhere in her throat as she watched him trapped in the powerful stranglehold of one of the stubborn guards. She summons it and it finds her palm with a snap. It feels like a natural extension of her arm. She feels almost naked without it now.

Ben doesn’t even flinch, but his eyes never leave hers. Maybe he does trust her, at least a little.

“If I stay, it has to be under my conditions,” she says, looking firmly at him. He cocks his head to the side, but doesn’t reply immediately. He can play this game too, Rey thinks, feeling less sorry for him than just a second ago.

“Which are….?”

“You immediately stop this madness,” she points at the screen. She can swear that there are less dots than just a few seconds ago. Her heart is racing and the labor of breathing makes her sweat with the burden of the decision.

“I want the Resistance pardoned. Each and every one of them. You will not follow in Snoke’s steps. We don’t need that kind of leadership. We need laws, just laws, and an assembly representing everyone in the Galaxy, and we need the warmongers prosecuted.”

Ben’s face is unreadable.

“The Republic proved itself to be corrupted and inefficient. It’s past, Rey. And that past died for a reason,” he says.

She’s running out of time, she can’t afford to lose precious minutes as the still existing First order army under the command of that sadistic General Hux exterminates her friends. And yet, she has to negotiate for if she just says yes…..

“If you want me to join you in ruling the Galaxy, then we have to devise a plan of how not to rule, how to develop the institutions for that purpose. Maybe the old Republic wasn’t good enough, maybe the New Republic isn’t powerful enough, but there has to be structure. There must never be another egomaniac out of control.”

“Anything else?” he asks in a hollow voice. He’s obviously not entirely pleased with her demands, but at least he didn’t say no. Rey feels encouraged.

“General Hux’s army needs to be downsized.”

To this he readily nods and her heart feels a few tons lighter.

“And I want to train the next generation of Jedi. We need them, need us. I want to find force sensitive children and point them in the right direction. This order must live on.”

Ben’s face is a stone mask. She suspects this demand to be the biggest in his eyes. So while she’s poking in his wounds, she decides to stick it all in.

“I’ll enlist Luke to help me run it.”

Ben closes his eyes. His gloved hand twitches and then curls in a tight fist.

“Remember, pardon for each and every one of the Resistance,” she adds. “Including him.”

She steals a glance towards the holo-projector and he follows her eyes.

“No,” he says firmly.

“My demands are not negotiable,” she says, but her eyes nervously twitch towards the black screen. It’s blacker than ever. There are fewer dots there now, she can swear.

Ben’s steady gaze is focused on her.

“No,” he says once more. “There will be no more Jedi. Trained or untrained. That order is dead. I made a vow long time ago I would stop that madness. Do you think I’m called Jedi killer for no reason?”

Rey swings her lightsaber and stops in right under Ben’s chin. She holds it there, looking firmly at his dark eyes.

“Then the deal is off! I might come from nothing, but whether you like it or not, I’m going to be a Jedi, even if I turn out to be a second-rate one!” she seethes, realizing this should’ve been her first demand. Her mind is frantic, open to him. She feels him rummaging through it, digging deep down, discovering that Rey is almost reduced to a frightened little girl, scared she would soon be friendless.

If only she had more time to negotiate, if only she were better at this game called politics!

The ghostly light reflects off Ben’s darkened face making the scar on his cheek a deep furrow.

“You’re not as bad at it as you think,” he says wryly and lightly pushes her hand holding the saber away. She’s not sure if he’s responding to her words or her thoughts.

“But you have no time to negotiate details, Rey. You better say yes to me if you still want to have any friends left at the end of this day,” he says smoothly.

How much she despises him at this moment! And herself for walking into his trap. But there’s not much to be done now. She has to save what she can.

“I won’t give up on this,” she says. “But you’re right, I have no time for long negotiations. And last but not least: this between us, this is business only. Politics. Don’t get any ideas,” she adds defiantly.

We’ll see, echoes in her brain and for a brief moment she’s not sure if it’s him responding through their ever present Force connection or her imagination.

“While I deal with General Hux, you contact Resistance and tell them about the ceasefire. Let’s not exterminate each other while we’re trying to figure this out,” he says rushing out of the throne room, and down to corridor towards the command bridge.

Rey gets in front of the screen, trying to get through to Poe. The seconds seem as long as years and while waiting to hear from him, fears and thoughts multiply in her head.

What did she just get herself into? She agreed to stay with Ben partly to make sure there’s balance in Force, between dark and light, to make sure something finally changes in this eternal fight for power, partly for selfish reasons, to save her friends. But the truth is, there’s more to it, much more. There are reasons she doesn’t even dare think about let alone voice aloud. She doesn’t get to those hidden corners of her mind for Poe picks up the line and she finds herself retelling the events in the throne room and enthusiastically presenting her newly formed plan.

__________

The first resistance to the idea comes quite expectedly from the Resistance itself. Poe is visibly disappointed in her. His huge, warm eyes are full of reproach he doesn’t voice. Finn, on the other hand, is loud and furious.

“You are so blind, Rey!” he screams at her.

They both refuse to comply and it takes lots of words and reasons to get them to even listen to her. She’s stoic while listening to both of them screaming at her; she’s patient while they’re listing all the reasons against her acceptance of Ben’s offer, but finally she gets them to see how this might work. Regardless of what they say, Rey is adamant in her decision. She’s always been like that. Once she would choose her way, there was no hesitation or looking back.

To appease them, she lets them see the throne room and Snoke’s corpse and even look at dark silhouette of Ben hovering in the background, giving orders to the soldiers to dispose of the bodies.

“We can make it work. We can bring balance to the Galaxy once and for all. Just give us a chance. Promise me you will lay low and wait until you hear from me.”

Poe’s face is full of doubt, Finn’s is closed and glaring.

“I don’t want you there with him, all alone,” Finn seethes. Rey’s first thought is to address this as one his bouts of over-protectiveness, as she normally would, but that usually starts a discussion and she has no time for that discussion now.

She leans into the screen, shielding it from Ben pacing up and down behind her.

“You have nothing to fight this with. Lay low and give me a chance to work this out. As soon as we have your agreement, we’ll proceed to contact the others. No one will chase you while I’m here, think about it. There’s a big change coming, I can feel it. Just let it happen.”

Poe and Finn exchange glances and unwillingly nod.

“But I want to check on you in person as soon as possible,” Finn adds.

In the background Leia’s eyes are two bright spots on her face. For a fleeting moment she looks as if she can’t believe her luck but then the face of her unforgiving son comes on screen behind Rey’s back and those eyes fill with doubt. ___________

“They’re in,” Rey says to Ben over her shoulder. She is beyond exhausted, her lids suddenly heavy. Her body aches from Snoke’s torture, from the excruciating battle, the cut on her arm scorched with blood and itchy.

“Good,” he says. “Now Hux. I left him on the bridge with more questions than answers.”

He’s relentless and focused, and for a moment Rey wishes he could be a bit more … human is probably the word she is looking for. Human as in softer, more compassionate, more aware she is not feeling entirely well.

Still she gets up and stands next to him to meet General Hux. This is probably the most important meeting of the day and it will determine how their plan to bring peace to the Galaxy will proceed, so it is entirely understandable Ben is anxious to get it over with.

To say that General Hux is a bundle of nerves would be an understatement. Ben made him stop the attack on the Resistance without explaining the reasons behind it. General Hux doesn’t comply easily, but Ben shows no wavering and Hux as all frightened animals reacts to the change in his new master. He stands at the door and takes in everything in the room, and then winces on seeing Rey next to Ben.

“What is this supposed to mean?” he screams. “I demand an explanation!”

“We are changing the rules, Hux,” Ben says firmly. “I will act as Supreme Leader for the time being with Rey’s help until we figure out how to bring balance to the Galaxy. Enough is enough,” he adds quietly.

“You must be out of your mind!” Hue yells. “With her! With that rebel scum!”

Rey finds herself amused by the venom he spits in her direction. He is powerless and he knows it. This is just to vent his frustration.

“There are no more rebel scums, or Resistance people,” she says brightly. “Just us, people, citizens of the Galaxy. Isn’t that great?”

She can feel Ben snorting next to her, but her eyes are on Hux’ red face. He gasps for air and tries to find the words to express his anger at her and then his hand twitches towards his weapon.

Ben’s force-chokehold instantaneously puts him at ease.

“We need to downsize your army,” Ben say seriously. “Half of your men will be needed to rebuild destroyed planets.” He releases him but stands in front of him still alert.

“But they’re warriors, not construction workers,” Hux spits, but doesn’t make a move, eyeing Ben with fear.

“I’m sure they’ll be just as good in rebuilding as they were in destroying,” Rey says, smiling at him, and he turns to go after one filthy, hateful look in her direction.

Ben eases on the spot when Hux exits and flips his hair out of his eyes.

There’s human for you, Rey thinks to herself, suddenly remembering what’s even prompted her to follow him here and trust him with her life. There’s that weird, disjointed twoness they share in their mutual attempt to fight loneliness that came from being different, from not belonging anywhere.

“You must be exhausted,” Ben says, finally reading fatigue on her face. “Let me show you your quarters.”

My quarters! Rey thinks, for it hasn’t even cross her mind that she would need a place for such mundane things like sleeping, or changing her clothes, or taking a shower.

He leads her down several long corridors and finally gets to a seemingly secluded part of the ship, guarded by two knights of Ren. When they enter through the sliding door, she finds herself standing in an oval corridor bordered with several doors.

“I’m here,” he gestures towards a big door in front of them. “You’re next to me.”

Her unease makes her glance at him quickly. He better not be planning anything she hasn’t agreed upon.

He must have felt it, for he glances toward the guard, another knight of Ren at the far end of the corridor.

“I don’t trust Hux, so you need to stay close to me. My knights will be guarding us.”

She just nods and follows him inside the compartment.

It’s grey and not very big. And it’s so cold, her teeth involuntarily chatter. In a way it reminds her of a tomb. She walks around, trying to picture this as her home for the next undefined period of time and fails. However compared to what she had on Jakku, this is sheer luxury. There’s a bed, although narrowish, but with sheets and a few pillows, and even a desk with a lamp. And there’s a locker for her things, albeit she has none, for it never occurred to her to take anything with her but her lightsaber. She’s immediately drawn to the mirror above the desk. Her exhausted, bruised face staring back at her scares her.

“I didn’t know I looked this bad,” she murmurs.

“It’s been a long day,” Ben says neutrally. “The fresher is over there.”

He goes through the narrow door in the left corner and comes back quickly with an unidentified box. Rey sits on the bed, exhausted.

“Let me get that for you,” he says, looking closely at the cut on her upper arm, and immediately opening the box containing different bottles and bandages. He gets to attending to her wound without waiting for her consent, but she’s way too tired to protest. He doesn’t use the Force, but applies a salve manually, and it burns her so much, it would probably wake all her senses at once if she weren’t already electrified by the proximity of his warm fingers on her skin.

It all ends too soon. He applies the plaster over her cut, and gets up to go.

“Thank you,” she says over her shoulder.

“You’re welcome, Sleep tight,” he says and turns to leave.

A keen sense of being so alone in this whole uncertain schema, of being somehow cut from everyone she cared about and also from those she might care about a lot more in the future, washes over her and she looks after Ben almost willing him to come back and sit with her until she falls asleep. But Ben exits without looking back and she’s left alone with her heart equally full of hope and doubt.

______

And then instead of just shutting down, her brain goes in overwork mode and sleep escapes her for a long time. She lies in that freezing compartment, alert, wide awake, but not only because of the cold. She thinks back at her lonely years on Jakku, filled with waiting and longing, as the time when she was all alone in the world and yet, never completely forsaken, never entirely abandoned. For something, someone was always there with her. She didn’t know at the time what it was and being so young, she didn’t even ask herself who or what that might have been. She just accepted it as it was. Sometimes she hoped it was her mother, the mother she never knew, watching somehow over her and she would cry herself to sleep trying to drown her sorrow in her tears.

And when the Force started rising in her, the presence took the shape of Ben.

Was it him all the time? Or was it just the way of the Force, making her recognize the energy they shared?

The first time she really saw him, when he took off his mask for her in the interrogation room, it felt as if meeting someone she knew all her life, without even being aware of it.

I know you, she wanted to say. I’ve always known you.

But as so many things between them, that, too, was left unsaid.

#reylo #fanfic #kylo ren #rey #ben solo #politics #star wars #the last jedi #what if #also #i'm procrastinating #and I better get back to editing #as soon as get this out of my system

12 notes · View notes

our-workis-never-over · 6 years

Text

Antaedymn’s Nightmare

It is the middle of the night in Marlina. Natale Mortalis is asleep in his home in the capital when he is awoken by a call.

“NATALE! Please,” the hologram of Antaedymn yells, “I need your help!”

The call shot Natale out of the bed, and damaged one of his wings on landing. Barely able to see or move, he crawled his way to the other side and felt for the holophone.

“Your Majesty, please. It’s 1 in the morning. What happened at this hour?”

“I’ve just awoken from a terrible nightmare and I need your wisdom.”

Natale sighed. “Look. If I come over now, I’m not gonna have any clue what I’m saying. Write this dream of yours down for now, so we can both go back to sleep. I’ll stop by tomorrow afternoon and we can discuss it then. Sound good?”

“Sure,” Antaedymn hesitated, “no problem.”

The next day, Natale lived up to his promise and met up with King Antaedymn in the castle. He is recognized as a Knight in the Marlinan Hierarchy, so getting inside was no problem. He arrived at the lobby before the King, so he admired the architecture.

“Natale, there you are,” called Antaedymn from down the hall, “good to see you again.”

“And you.” The two shook hands and began walking to a more secure location.

“You know,” Natale began, “I don’t know why you wanted my wisdom. There are people out there who are better at this than I.”

“I’m sure there are. But not only are you the one person who knows my full story, I have heard of your reputation with others. Just recently, you got someone out of a relationship-turned-power struggle, did you not?”

“I did, didn’t I?” Natale chuckled. After a brief pause, “Alright. Tell me everything.”

“Okay, here we go.” Big breath. “It takes place some years in the future. My reign is coming to its end and Zutara is ready to take the throne...”

Antaedymn is alone in his room, meditating, contemplating a conversation he had with the previous King Benedict Emeritus. Eventually, his thoughts got the best of him. He decided to take his father’s advice once and for all.

Meanwhile, back at the Brotherhood of Makuta Headquarters, Madilim is rushing frantically to Natale’s quarters, urging him to turn on the news. Apparently something horrifying has happening and he needs to hear about it. When he did turn it on, he was in awe at what he heard. It was a speech by King Antaedymn himself and he was talking about Natale.

“My friends, I come to you today with a dreadful announcement. I was traveling with a group of scholarly archeologists in No Man’s Land on a mission to map the region. While we were out there,” he said as he pulled a staff from stage left, “we stumbled upon this. This is the weapon of Princess Vivian Attarai. If you remember from some years ago, a note from her Knight, Natale Mortalis, alleged that he did everything in his power to save her from a hypothermic death but failed. As a result, he went into a self-imposed exile. This discovery puts pain to that claim. After finding this, the team had a new mission: To find the body of Vivian Attarai and confirm her death. We scoured every square inch of No Man’s Land to no avail. This leads us to the conclusion that the Princess did not die, but was murdered by her Knight. We now believe that he took her body and dumped her into enemy waters, where he knew we could not investigate.

“I’ve thought long and hard about what to do with the accused. Obviously, he should be rewarded as a traitor deserves, but killing him randomly in cold blood or combat will accomplish nothing. As Vivian’s successor, I believe it is my duty to avenge her. Natale is associated with the Brotherhood of Makuta, an organization who famously immigrated from Okoto over genetic experimentation. As a result, any Makuta who brings Natale in will be pardoned of any past crimes. To everyone else, Natale Mortalis is a traitor,” the last words came out like a dissonant harmony, not unlike playing a tritone, “bring him to me.”

Madilim turned to look back at Natale to see his reaction. His eyes glowed a brilliant blue, signaling intense fury. And yet, he also had a look in his eyes. Natale knew exactly what he was going to do.

Later that day, King Antaedymn was talking with other high-ranking officials in the main lobby when the large castle doors slammed open behind them.

“King Antaedymn!” The person shouted. It was Natale.

Antaedymn turned around to see the traitor. He was glad that Natale was here and how it happened so easily. With this, he inquired who brought him in.

“I came alone,” Natale replied.

“What?” Antaedymn stuttered, “What’s with you? Why would you give up just like that?!”

“Because I remember a certain detail about your message to the country. See,” said Natale, as he started walking to Antaedymn, “if I remember correctly, you told everyone that ‘any Makuta who brings me in will be pardoned for any past crimes.’ You’ve overlooked one thing, Your Majesty,” he said, stopping, “I am a Makuta.”

“Guards! Take him away!” Antaedymn was furious by this point, but Natale wasn’t done yet.

“Why? Are you afraid to live up to your promise? Or can you live up to your promise at all because you can’t pardon me for a crime I didn’t commit. Or,” looking Antaedymn dead in the eyes, “were you lying about your deal, just like you’ve lied about everything else.”

Antaedymn spoke no words, but his eyes said it all. Meanwhile, his guards watched in confusion, not sure who to listen to.

“You’ve lied about the fate of Zutara’s mother. You’ve lied about the reason you’ve closed off No Man’s Land. You’ve lied about how you’ve taken the throne to begin with. You’ve lied about who you are. You’ve lied to your country, your family, to me and worst of all to yourself. Am I wrong,” Natale paused as he chose his next word carefully, “Vivian?”

The name came out like another tritone. That was the name of Antaedymn’s former self. Once upon a time, he was Princess Vivian Attarai. He remembered the day that she and Natale’s cart got damaged in No Man’s Land. He remembered telling Natale that she hated being a woman and would gladly transition openly if she wasn’t worried about her country’s reaction. Together, they had devised a scheme that would allow Vivian to transition out of view from the public eye and Natale going into a self-imposed exile because he believed a patriotic life just wasn’t for him. What was this scheme? To fake Vivian’s death, from a certain point of view. Vivian is no more, now was the life of John Antaedymn. Hearing his dead name again prompted him to act swiftly.

In the blink of an eye, he shot out of his chair, drew his blades and swung both arms outward. The next thing anyone saw was a large X-shaped gash in his chest--not large enough to be lethal, but large enough for blood to start dripping out fast. After being stunned for a moment, Natale again peered into Antaedymn’s eyes. He knew there was no going back now. He unhooked his cape and let it fall to the ground. His wings opened up and spread out parallel to his shoulders. Lastly, he activated his blue-bladed sabercane. With that, the fight began.

The duel lasted for many minutes. It started off as dignified choreography in the lobby, but soon enough one of them began using their environment to their advantage. Antaedymn eventually realized that Natale’s wings put him at a massive disadvantage; while Antaedymn would have to worry about all the crap on the floor and hanging from the walls, such things were of almost no concern for Natale, for he could just fly/leap out of the way. With this realization, the King made a break for the nearest window and jumped out of it.

He was met with hordes of citizens, his people, looking on. Many had a face of disgust, others merely confusion. Natale lunged down at the King next, his eyes glowing a fierce sapphire shade. He rolled out of the way just in time to avoid his laser blade and was able to get back up. Both of them were panting, coughing, and struggling to move their legs by this point. In this brief moment of ceasefire, Natale wiped his hands on his sides to get rid of any sweat buildup that might cause him to drop his weapon. Meanwhile, Antaedymn looked around. The look of the people’s faces has changed. Gone was the initial shock of seeing him bruised and beaten; in its place was one of sadness, disappointment and bewilderedness What would prompt the King to betray his best ally? They knew the answer to that. What would prompt his best ally to betray him? He falsely hoped that they would not find out.

Eventually, Natale forced Antaedymn to the ground again. No longer fearing his fate, and to the screams of the people, he pointed his blade at Antaedymn’s neck.

“Tell them the truth!”

“There is nothing to tell that they need to know!” This response sparked murmuring among them.

“If you don’t, I will. And you’re not going to like the version I tell.”

With that, Antaedymn relented and confessed his entire life story, a tale only Natale and the late Benedict Emeritus knew previously. The deception sparked outrage among the crowd, demanding for the King’s arrest. As he was taken away, some guards approached Natale.

“Sir,” one nervously began, “what are we going to do about his daughter? Is his bloodline invalid?”

“Well,” Natale responded, after thinking long and hard, “Zutara is a victim of chance. She should not be punished for Antaedymn’s lies. Let her take the throne. I will deal with whatever punishment comes my way later.”

“Yes sir.”

With that, the guard returned to his truck to take Antaedymn in for question. Natale shakily walked back to the Brotherhood of Makuta Headquarters, his fate uncertain.

Back in the real world, Natale had to take a step back.

“That was,” he stuttered, “quite the interesting dream.”

Antaedymn was still very shaky in his voice. Nevertheless, he tried asking again, “But none of that will happen, right?”

“It shouldn’t. In your dream, you met your destiny on the road you took to avoid it. You were the architect of your own destruction.”

“And you,” the next words were difficult to decipher; the fear has really gotten to him, “your character in it. Was that accurate?”

Natale thought carefully before answering.

“If I were to be dragged into a lose-lose situation such as this, I believe I would do whatever it took if it meant self-preservation. I don’t know if I would use your dead name, though,” as he was finishing, he ignored Antaedymn’s incredibly loud sigh of relief, “that would be going too far, even for me.”

“So what should I do?”

“You’ve done well so far. Benedict passed away a few years ago, so now I’m the only person who knows your full story. I would never betray you like that. You’re too awesome for that.”

“Thank you, Natale.” At that, the two embraced in a hug. While Natale’s face didn’t change much throughout his meeting that day, Antaedymn’s face looked like a child’s on Christmas. With their business done, they said their goodbyes and went on their way.

That night, Antaedymn couldn’t find himself sleeping at all. On most nights he could blame it on his wife’s snoring, but not this time. He was thinking about his father again. He walked to the Hall of Kings and found his father’s picture. He circled around it as he pondered the conversation that haunted his dream.

“Would Benedict really have supported me for who I am? Or would he have rewritten history for the sake of preserving sanctity in the bloodline?”

Antaedymn marched back and forth around the painting muttering himself before coming to a cold stop. He believed he had his answer. With this, he quickly spun around and slashed. One half of the portrait stayed on the nail, spinning furiously. The other half flew to the floor and shattered. After a moment, Antaedymn returned to bed and fell soundly asleep.

0 notes