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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

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sparks and embers - chapter 6

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 6 - Ruin

Words: 5.9k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Mentions of war/death, kissing, a healthy dose of the ‘sharing a bed’ trope, ANGST, sexual education because who doesn’t want to read about that in fanfiction, vague description of a female medical procedure

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

A softened sigh left me, knowing it was probably time to let Poe say his piece. He’d been so silent until now that I felt compelled to hear what had been stirring inside his mind while I’d held him in quiet contempt.

“Alright. I’m listening.”

He flicked on one of the dimmed lamps next to the bed, a gentle glow illuminating the room, watching as he proceeded to carefully extricate himself from under the sheets, the soreness as a result of the rehab we’d performed today now evident in his concentrated expression.

I drew myself up into a seated position on the sofa as he made his way to sit on the small table at my front, not attempting to meet my eyes until he’d slowly placed himself down on the metal. His face was less than a meter from mine, pupils drifting upwards until finally, our stares locked.

“I’m sorry,” he declared, his words heavy. “I understand why you’re angry. I get it, okay? Years of battle after battle, fight after fight, it becomes difficult to consider those working under the First Order’s control as people. People with families, loved ones, even children. They appear as targets, there simply to be eliminated. And it’s you or them. Either you perish, or you put the rational thought into the back of your mind and fight back.”

Poe glanced down, fixated to the floor, his jaw tight. “I do think about it sometimes, the people I’ve... murdered. I’ve spent sleepless nights wondering if killing in the name of freedom was a good enough reason to send people to an early death. When you don’t see their faces it’s…. easier. You don’t see the bloodshed, the corpses. You just see the fiery explosion of their ships fading into the black void of space.”

I stayed rigid in the sofa, hands clutching the into cushions. It was difficult to hold down the simmer of anger that boiled in my stomach, since everything so far only reinforced what I felt like I’d determined hours ago. Even while my demeanour remained stormy, Poe continued.

“All I heard in my childhood was my father reminding me of the way he and my mother fought for what they believed to be right. Both of them lived and battled through a time like ours, under the thumb of a regime hungry for power, sparing no innocents in their pursuit of it.” He became lost in memory, the aura drifting around him stained with a subtle sorrow. “‘People were hurting. People were suffering. Your father and I couldn’t sit and do nothing.’ That’s what my mother had told me, a child of two, as her reasoning for joining the Alliance in their efforts to push back against what threatened all type of freedom in this galaxy. My parents offered to sacrifice their lives on the tiniest shred of hope that me, and every other being on every planet, would see peace in their lifetime.”

His eyes finally shifted back to focus on mine. They were determined, yet soft, the chocolate fibers of his irises melting together. “I just... wanted to be like her. Like them. I wanted to do what they did. I wanted them to be proud of me, to have faith that their legacy would live on after they were gone. To provide freedom and peace like they had. Even if that meant sacrificing my own life, even if that meant killing those who opposed it. I had to. I had to join the people that wanted the same thing as me.”

A growing ferocity began to radiate, his voice severe. “I witnessed so many of my fellow soldiers, my friends, die thoughtlessly at the hands of others. And I wanted them to feel the same pain that I felt. Is it hypocritical? Of course, I know that. Is it cruel? Yes, murder is rarely not. But it's in the name of protection, defiance against control from an overpowering force. Those who fight with the First Order, who take over planets and kill innocents for the sake of power, they know what they’re doing. They know the consequences, the outcome, the hold the galaxy will be strangled under if they succeed. And they do it anyway. Our cause isn’t more noble, it’s self-defence. We’re trying to protect the ones who aren’t able to fight back, and those who don’t deserve to be born into a world that will crush them into submission.”

Poe’s features turned darker, leaning in close. “I will never stop thinking about the lives I’ve taken. I will never not hold myself accountable for the sins I’ve committed. But I will also not sit and do nothing. I don’t need you to accept it, but at least try to understand. You and I want the same thing, in the end, to save as many people as possible in our short lifetime. I’m just doing the best I can to see that through.”

While I instinctively took a breath in preparation to speak, nothing came. He’d rendered me speechless.

I had no reply to give, no counterargument, no flaw to point out. His honesty floored me, raw emotion and long-felt guilt rising up for me to observe so openly. The pain behind his eyes seemed so much more acute than any of the other injuries he’d sustained, not trying to shield it from my view as he spoke.

I tried to find words, anything to articulate my forgiveness. Because I did understand. He’d made me see it, the same anguish over death that I felt. But he’d also made me realise what a coward I was.

Against the people who would kill him or control him, he fought back. While I hid myself away under the guise of selflessness.

I thought I was the hero of my story, giving up my home, my old life, for the benefit of the downtrodden people of this planet. In reality, I was a scared little girl, too gutless to push back against those I, and so many others in this galaxy, feared. And here Poe was, putting himself in harm’s way, every day, in the hopes that he could take away our fear forever.

He began to rise in front of me, taking my lack of reply as an answer in itself. He seemed despondent, his face sullen as he turned to limp back to the bed.

A different kind of fury coursed through me, fury at myself for how easily I’d judged him, at how cruelly I’d treated him.

I couldn’t let the night end this way.

I picked myself up from the sofa and quickly lunged at his wrist, pulling him to face me. He was surprised, glancing with wide eyes to where my hand had caught him, then to my face. I tried desperately to convey it there, everything I wanted to say, struggling to find my voice. Poe waited for me to speak the words I clearly had sitting on the edge of my tongue, but everything I conjured didn’t seem to be enough, the jumbled thoughts swirling incoherently in my mind, never letting me quite grasp onto them long enough to form exactly what I needed to express.

Tension filled the space between us, thick and overwhelming. I soon began outlining the lines of his face, the crease currently stuck in his brow, the curve of his nose, the contour of his jaw, the arch of his lips.

My hands found themselves catching each side of his face, pulling his mouth to mine in a desperate kiss.

I’d held it back for so long, too long, now unable to deny the burning urge to melt my lips into his. He was alarmed at first, his mouth frozen from movement as he comprehended my sudden attack.

Yet quickly he was syncing his lips fluidly with mine, a hand rising to clutch the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His casted arm curled around my waist, pressing my body into his, feeling the heat radiating off his chest.

The fire in my lower abdomen roared into bright red flames again, spreading into the rest of my body like molten lava. He tasted even better than I’d imagined, our tongues beginning to find each other through parted mouths. Fingers moved into his hair, hungrily grasping at the curled strands, causing a low moan to seep from his throat. The sound made me even more forceful in my need for his lips to be connected with mine, barely having time to breathe in-between our eager kisses.

I wanted to have him, all of him, so deeply it was painful, the searing burn lighting up in my veins.

Don’t do this Alexys. It will ruin you.

My breath hitched as I reluctantly pulled away, looking up, seeing his pupils swollen. He was cautious then, moving his hand from my neck to push a strand of hair behind my ear, almost if at any moment I would flee from his embrace.

And that’s what half of me was begging to do, the other screaming at me to lock our lips together again. I felt split into two, a cracking beginning to divide me roughly in the middle.

I could see Poe searching through my gaze, trying to assess my thoughts, whether it was safe to continue. He leaned in gradually, testing my reaction. I didn’t recoil this time. I didn’t want to.

His lips melted into mine, less insistent than before, although somehow just as intimate. Inhibitions lowered, my hands slid down to his chest, noticing the hard muscles underneath my palms and feeling the fire inside me surge. I wanted to feel the bare skin underneath, to have it pressed against my own. To explore the other parts of him covered by clothes. To forget even for a short time that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this.

Poe gently withdrew, leaning his forehead into mine. “I know.”

“Know what?”

He exhaled a long breath. “I know you don’t want to do this.”

I replaced my hands to his cheeks. “You have no idea how much I want this. How much I want you.” The truth of the words made me feel both vulnerable and safe, for the first time giving in to the yearning I’d hoped to keep locked inside my chest.

He tensed, a slight tremble in the arm that curved around my body. But his face grew sombre, almost... sad. “You don’t. Not completely. I can feel you wanting to hold back,” he murmured. “I can feel your fear.”

I swallowed hard, unable to refute him. “…I’m sorry. I want to. But I just… I can’t."

We both looked down, my confirmation making the tone of our connection shift. He was silent for what felt like a long time, and we stayed motionless in our embrace, neither wanting it to end, knowing it was inevitable that we would have to part.

“Why?” he breathed. “Why are you afraid?”

I wanted to be honest with him, like he had been for me, so much the sensation felt like it was clawing out from inside me, determined to burst through the skin. But there was a barrier there, one I had forged long ago. Unyielding and impenetrable to anything or anyone.

Although, I felt another realisation simmer to the surface of my mind, one that was not nearly as exposing, but still true.

“You’re going to leave. And I have to stay here. I don’t… I don’t want that to hurt any more than it has to.”

It seemed to hit him then, like he hadn’t let the thought enter his mind before. The awareness of our predicament shone brightly in his eyes, a light switch flickering on.

His hand moved to my cheek, grazing his thumb softly against the skin, my heart throbbing inside its cage at his light touch. I watched as eyes scanned over my face, back and forth, as if memorising the features. It was then I knew he’d come to the same conclusion.

It wouldn’t be long before we would part, most likely to never see each other again. If we went any further, if we crossed that line, the pain of saying goodbye would become so much more unbearable.

Almost simultaneously, we let our hold on each other loosen, the disappointment in the air almost palatable on my tongue. The smouldering inside had burnt out, suffocated by the gloom weighing heavy in my chest. Poe took my hand in his, his eyes pleading. “Can I ask one thing of you?’

I moved my head in a slow nod.

“Sleep in this bed with me tonight. Just sleep. I promise.” It was an earnest request, his face imploring and unguarded.

In contempt of the voice in my head bellowing at me that this was a terrible idea, I agreed. “Okay.”

Together we tentatively walked to each side of the mattress, making no rush to slip under the covers and settle into the pillows. I faced away, fearing if I looked at Poe's charming face any longer, I would surrender to the pull of desire that never seemed to relent. I didn’t know how I was ever going to be able to fall asleep like this, his body radiating an energy that vibrated into the space between us, keeping me all too aware of his presence.

There was movement, a dip in the mattress, Poe’s arms curling around my torso, pulling me close. His face buried itself into my hair, the warmth of his gradual exhale sending charged shivers down my spine. Placing my arms over his, silently accepting his embrace, I felt my heart thump a calming glow through my chest, all the way to the end of my limbs.

I’d never felt so peaceful, so whole, becoming lost in the comfort of his hold, wishing I could bask in it forever.

But reality bit at me, cold and uninvited, reminding me of the goodbye I would have to give soon enough.

We were still entangled when consciousness came again, the dim light of early sunrise leaking through my window. Poe’s arms circled around me, my body fitting perfectly into his.

He was still asleep, his face resting just at the back of my head, slow breaths bristling into my hair. I relished the feeling of it all, trying to commit it to my memory.

I stayed there, motionless, waiting for time to run out, knowing I would be chasing the feeling of this in the months, maybe years, to come. Thinking about his future absence made me terrifyingly lonely, even with his arms wrapped around now.

Eventually the seconds ticked down to my chronometer alarm buzzing, rustling Poe awake from his slumber. I assumed he would begin to move, pulling away, this one night that bonded us together finally ending. Yet he stayed as unmoving as I had been, the only indication he had awoken the increased depth of his inhale, a small tense of his muscles. I went to move, to switch the screeching sound off, but he clutched me back into his chest, squeezing tight.

As much as my heart thumped at the pressure of his hips into mine, the noise of my alarm was grating. “Let me turn it off,” I whispered. “I’ll come right back.”

Poe loosened his grip reluctantly, allowing me to reach over to the screeching machine and mute its sound. I settled back comfortably into his arms again, as he nuzzled his face into my neck, lips faintly placing a kiss on the skin.

“Poe… please… don’t…”

His sigh whistled past my neck. “Come with me, when I leave.”

It annoyed me, his fleeting demand so easily spoken. As if I could suddenly give up all that encompassed my life before he appeared, the beings that depended on me. But his voice was so sincere, so entreating in the early morning, that the irritation dashed away from the forefront of my mind.

“You know I can’t do that.”

He acknowledged my answer in the shift of his body from around me, moving himself out of the bed we had shared for the night and leaving me alone underneath the sheets.

It burned, the unprecedented disconnection of his shape from mine, my chest forming into a black hole in the realisation I might never feel him that close again.

I wanted to let my emotion to take over, to give in to the pain that rushed to me now as the finality of our night cradled together became evident. But I refused to release it, my resolve from the night before holding strong. I knew I’d made it harder by giving in to Poe's innocent plea of sharing a slumber within his embrace, but I wasn’t going to let our farewell completely ruin me.

With a forced composure, I rose from my bedside, focusing on the appointments scheduled to fill my day. Through my haze I recalled many of them being young female patients in need of birth control. I would somehow have to shut Poe away, wanting to give these women the privacy they deserved.

Poe and I appeared to use the ‘freshers at the same time, the searing heat I usually liked being showered with restrained no matter how high I pushed the temperature button. Eventually I’d readied myself for the workday ahead, deciding on a pencil skirt and lightened blue blouse tucked into the waist, working my hair into a ponytail.

It was when I’d begun making breakfast, for both myself and all the company that I kept in the clinic at the moment, that Poe emerged back into my quarters in a set of dark black hospital clothes. I glanced at him only briefly as he entered, hearing him pull out a chair, not daring to look at his face yet.

“Smells good,” he uttered, breaking the silence that existed in exemption to the sautéed chicken eggs and nuna bacon sizzling in the large pan in front of me.

“It’s almost ready,” I remarked, feeling completely the disconnection between us in his tone. Half of me was glad he accepted the separation we needed to make, the other mourning the severed bond we had formed in the connection of our bodies. But I had to let it go, whatever was left of the fragile link that survived the night.

I continued preparing the hot meal, separating the foodstuff between Poe and Vixur’s crew. Once I’d gently placed a share in front of Poe at the table, a smile meeting him fleetingly, I took the rest with me, balancing the four dishes on my hands and forearms, moving cautiously through the hallway.

With impeccable timing Vixur and his students were conversing between each other, obviously having woken just before I came to greet them.

“I’ve got breakfast for you all,” I announced, setting it down at the meeting table across from my computer. It was generally used as a place I could sit with patients and their families when giving them their diagnosis or explaining treatment plans, but today it would have to work as a secondary dining table. All four men jabbered back thankyous as they moved quickly to sit and eat, their appreciation evident in the way they gulped down the meal without hesitation. I returned to my quarters to find Poe picking lazily at his food, only a few bites eaten.

“Does it taste bad?” I asked from behind him, before circling to my seat at the table.

He looked up swiftly, as if I’d startled him. He must have been deeply lost in thought not to hear me treading down the hallway.

“It’s delicious,” he urged. “I’m just… not that hungry.”

“Are you feeling alright? Are you still sore? Are you-“

“Alex, I’m fine,” he interrupted. “You can’t fix a bad mood with any of your treatments.”

I looked at him curiously. “Bad mood?”

Did I do that to him?

“Did you not sleep well?”

He didn’t answer me right away, a subtle scowl settling in his lips. “It was actually... the most restful sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

I fought the urge to beam at him, a smile waiting to form, but the gloomy expression he wore held it down. I had to agree with him - it truly was the most comfortable rest I’d experienced in recent memory. And knowing I would never feel that peaceful, dreamless slumber in his arms again made me fully understand why he was frowning.

“Thank you so much for the meal Alex. I just... don’t have an appetite right now.” Poe rose from his seat and took his plate to clean, his sombre mood spilling into my body and taking over. Wringing his hands dry, He turned back to me. “Is it still alright if I keep using your office to continue working on BB-8?”

I nodded. “It would actually be preferable. Most of my patients today are women, and I need privacy for their appointments. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out, okay?”

Poe understood what I’d only hinted at. “Sure thing. I won’t step a foot out that room without your permission.”

A kind smile formed on his lips, but it fell as he moved from my quarters, leaving me to my breakfast, which now seemed extremely unappetizing.

“Well, Kaia, you’ve got a couple of options,” I started. It was my 5th appointment of the day, and I was starting to lose all hope in the young generation that followed mine. “You can get the implant, which lasts 5 years and protects you from pregnancy. But it can be a painful procedure, and unfortunately the implant itself is quite expensive. There are injections which last 3 months, but you’ll have to see me again in that time frame. I know that’s hard for you being from the South village. But there’s always prophylactics, which your partner has to use, every separate time you want to be intimate.”

Kaia was a 17-year-old human girl who had obviously not been taught any helpful sex education. Although, that wasn’t uncommon in these villages.

“But, like,” she began to question. “Can’t he just, like, not, um, finish in there?”

I drew in a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time I’d explained this today. “Technically yes, if he withdraws from you before that moment comes, it does lessen the chance of pregnancy. But Kaia, there’s a lot of fluid already leaking from him before then, fluid that can contain sperm. It doesn’t protect you. Not fully.”

Kaia was thoughtful, taking in my words. “But what if he doesn’t want to use the sheath?”

“Well... that’s his decision. But then you have to make yours. A decision that you’re more than allowed to make. One night could lead to either a future of motherhood or even diseases that could cause a great deal of damage to your body.”

“Ew,” Kaia recoiled. “I mean, I get what you’re saying. But Miss Jago, haven’t you ever been so swept up in the moment that you didn’t think about any of that?”

My jaw clenched, catching me off guard with her question. None of the other women had posed it to me. “It’s not been an issue for me,” I said flatly.

“Because of the birth control, right?” she surmised. “Which one do you use then?”

Oof, caught me out again.

“I don’t have the need for it. Kaia, this is not about me-”

“Wait, what?” she gasped. “But you’re so pretty?”

I soaked my voice in its professional tone. “This is your appointment Kaia, we’re not here to discuss my personal life.”

Kaia refused to comply. “But you’ve done it, right?”

I sighed, irritated. “Yes Kaia, but we took all the necessary precautions.”

“Well that doesn’t make it sound very fun,” Kaia huffed.

I tried desperately to hold back the aversion wanting to show on my face. It hadn’t been fun. It was clunky, awkward and somewhat painful. And I felt a spike of envy that this teenager already seemed to have had better experience with the opposite sex than I did.

“Look, your options are there. If I had to choose one, and I was with a partner I could trust had nothing that could spread to me, I’d go with the implant.”

She contemplated my advice, pulling her hands up to let her chin rest on them. “I think you’re right Miss Jago. But my parents would never help me pay for it.”

“That’s alright,” I replied, already knowing the home situation Kaia found herself in. She’d made the trek to my clinic alone, without her parent’s knowledge, just to see me for this single reason. I doubted they even knew she had a boyfriend. “How about I put the implant in today, and we figure out payment later?”

Kaia’s face lit up, eyes brimming with delight. “Really?”

I smiled at her and nodded.

“Thank you!” she squealed, face barely containing her excitement.

Really, this was for both her benefit and my own. I wasn’t about to face her parents when it would ultimately be me providing the news their daughter was pregnant. I didn’t want Kaia to go through that, a young pregnancy in a poor village after her parents would most likely cast her out.

“Remember I said this can be a painful procedure, and you’ll be sore for a day or two afterwards.”

Kaia nodded, understanding, yet unable to hold back her joy.

I worked my way through the process of setting her implant, my mind on autopilot while I thought more about the question Kaia innocently queried. I’d never come close to the type of desire that would have caused me to throw away all caution and rational thought. Not until-

“Hey Alex!” I heard from the other side of the curtain I’d drawn for Kaia’s discretion. “I know I said I wouldn’t come out until you said, but I’ve got something I need to show you.”

Poe’s voice was exuberant and proud, annoyingly unaware of the fact I had my hand in a very delicate place. My eyes shot to Kaia’s, her cheeks already flushing red with mortification.

“Poe!” I fumed, not hiding my anger. “I asked you to do one thing!”

I sensed his panic from behind the fabric separating us. “Kriff! Sorry!” His voice changed when he spoke next, a hurried whisper. “BB, come back here! We can’t show her yet!”

A streaming mechanical movement could be heard in my periphery, turning my head to see a shadow moving along the bottom of the curtain. I took the moment to stop what I was doing, covering Kaia with a sheet.

I was thankful I did that when the BB-8 droid slip through a break in the drape, caring little for what Poe had ordered him to do. His little head sat hovering above his balled body, for the first time actually staying in position. The photoreceptor, which looked like a singular eye, was also finally lit as he zoomed closer. While an impressed smirk started to beam as I realised Poe had managed to get his little friend working, it was rapidly overtaken by irritation at the droid’s lack of courtesy.

Poe was cursing under his breath, then apologetic. “Alex and uh, patient, I am so sorry. BB, get out of there!” BB-8 let out a few indiscernible beeps, a language I didn’t understand, although Poe seemed to. “I don’t care! They need privacy. You can see her later!” he hollered.

The droid made what sounded like a high-pitched huff as its head dropped, like it knew it had been scolded. Its head swivelled around on top it’s body and rolled away, again sliding through the break in the curtain.

“Come on, back this way.” I listened to the combination of footsteps and mechanical whirring move back into the hallway, a door eventually clicking closed. Looking apologetically back to Kaia, her face was still stunned at the intrusion.

“I am so sorry. I told him to stay put until my appointments were over. It’s okay if you want to stop for a moment,” I offered, trying to stay as calm as possible.

Kaia blinked purposefully a few times before being able to focus back to me. “No it’s okay. I’m ready.”

I admired her composure, while I remained silently boiling under the surface.

“What the hell Poe?” I snarled, barging into my office where Poe sat, seemingly interrupting a conversation he was having with BB-8. I’d clawed my anger into submission for the rest of Kaia’s appointment, but now it was ready to surge outward.

Poe stood, arms held up in surrender. “I know! I’m sorry! I didn’t think, and it was just really bad timing.” BB-8 beeped in what sounded like agreeance, rolling around from behind the office desk into my view.

“It was the worst timing!” I snapped. “That girl was 17, in a very vulnerable position, and you scared the living daylights out of her!”

“I know, and I can’t apologise enough Alex, really!” His face was pleading, brown eyes soft yet desperate. “I was just so excited about BB working again, and I wanted to show you.”

His sincerity disarmed me, my fury sizzling down, suffocated by his apology. I took a slow breath in, eyes closed, reigning it in further. “Please don’t disregard my instructions again,” I grumbled.

He nodded, as did BB-8, and my eyes focused on the droid. He was oddly cute in his appearance, his small beeps already annoyingly adorable. “Hello,” I greeted, all frustration now clean from my voice. “My name is Alexys.” I kneeled down to his eye level and he immediately wheeled directly in front of me, beeping somewhat of his own introduction.

“He said it’s nice to meet you,” Poe clarified, still hesitant at the easy change in my mood.

I looked up at him, curious. “You can understand those sounds he makes?”

“Most of it,” Poe answered. “It’s a form of Binary. Having him with me for so long helped me grow accustomed to the pitch and time changes in his beeps.”

My eyebrows rose, fascinated. “That’s so impressive.” BB-8 squealed in uneven time, his eye looking over to Poe, who almost looked bashful. “What? What did he say?”

He shot BB-8 an irritated look before meeting his eyes to mine. “It’s nothing important. His circuits are still a little fried.”

I wasn’t convinced, but then again I didn’t speak droid. "I'm glad you got him working,” I said earnestly, pleased there hadn’t been any type of casualty from his crash.

Poe sighed, relieved. “Me too. He’s the best co-pilot I’ve ever had.”

BB-8 whistled happily, evidently pleased with the praise, and its sweetness made me smile.

“Alexys?” Vixur suddenly called, his voice echoing down the hall. “Are you back there?”

I left Poe and BB-8 without a word, finding Vixur standing at the hallway entrance, his clothes smeared in dirt and dark grease. “Everything okay?”

Vixur nodded, evidently tired, still an accomplished grin filled his face. “We’re done actually. The comm-tower’s fixed.”

I wanted to smile back, to show my appreciation for his hard work, but it all became too hard to fake anymore.

This was it, the beginning of my goodbye to Poe. He would now be able to contact the Resistance, his friends, and he would soon be gone from my life just as suddenly as he arrived.

I forced the tears back as I hugged Vixur, doing all I could to hide my pain and show some kind of gratitude for the selfless work he had done.

Somehow Vixur sensed the turmoil simmering through me, patting my back softly. He pulled out of our embrace, speaking softly enough so Poe wouldn’t hear. “You needed this done for him, didn’t you?”

I nodded, the sadness hard to contain on my face. Vixur’s own expression was sympathetic as he squeezed my arm reassuringly. I didn’t need to explain anything, he just seemed to know.

“If it’s meant to be, you’ll find each other again.”

I drew in a long breath, furiously smothering the need to cry. I wanted to thank him more, for giving his time to me for little in return, but I couldn’t say the words out of fear the sudden sorrow would overwhelm me if I spoke out loud.

Vixur understood this, giving me a caring smile as he took his leave. “Well, we best be heading back to the village. I’ll see you sometime soon Alex. If I don’t, I wish you luck.”

And he was gone, the clinic door closing behind him, leaving me frozen in dread. A large part of me was reluctant to tell Poe the ‘good news’, but he’d waited long enough for his rescue from this planet.

I didn’t need to turn around to know he’d slinked out of the office to find me stuck where I stood, BB-8’s soft whirring following him.

“The comm-tower is ready, isn’t it?” Poe asked gently.

I forced myself to smile as I turned around, Poe’s expression not showing the relief I would have expected.

“Sure is,” I replied, the hint of quiver in my voice. “You can finally go home.”

I saw Poe’s lip tremble as he too attempted a smile, the disappointment in his eyes more indicative of his actual reaction to my answer.

Neither of us spoke for a long time, BB-8 looking back and forth quizzically, a few unsure beeps finally pierced in Poe’s direction. The sounds knocked us back into reality, as I moved to find the transmitter I’d stashed back into my tech station after determining its redundancy days ago.

The memories felt foreign, like they were from a different age. So little time had changed me so much, making me feel the most unstable and fragile I had felt in so long, on the verge of tipping into an overwhelming pain.

Poe had watched me in silence, unmoving. I eventually shifted the transmitter into his arms, an extremely aged, large box with an array of dusty buttons poking out of the rusted metal.

“It’s old, but it still works,” I insisted in a monotone, the emotion sucked from my voice. Poe only nodded, and gave me one last despairing glance as he turned away, carrying the machine into the study, BB-8 trailing behind him.

When the door closed, I couldn’t hold onto it any longer, the overpowering misery bursting free, its icy presence consuming me in a singular moment, the cold burn stinging as a few tears trickled down my cheeks.

What did I tell you?

The tears came faster at the sound of the voice, it’s condescension only making the suffering more excruciating.

No.

You’re wrong. I’m stronger than this.

I wiped away the errant tears defiantly, pulling myself together at the seams that had broken a few minutes ago, calming my breathing, trying to settle the trembling on inhale.

I’d made it through so much worse, pushed past crushing loneliness, fear and sadness, to make myself more resilient than I was behaving now. And I wasn’t going to let myself be caught in this vortex of emotion any longer.

I will not let this ruin me.

Next Chapter

Tag list: @tlcwrites @roanniom @foxilayde @blackberries45 @hopeamarsu @caillea @princessxkenobi @leatherboundbirate @blowthatpieceofjunk @mylifeisactuallyamess @lightsinthedistancee @paterson-blue

(Please let me know if you wanted to be added or removed!)

#poe dameron #poe dameron x original female character #kylo ren #kylo ren x original female character #star wars #star wars fanfiction #adcu #adcu fanfiction #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x female reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x female reader #I SWEAR KYLO IS COMING OKAY THIS IS A SLOW BURN

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “Saint.”

This is a bit short today, but we were also short-staffed at work so I didn’t have a lot of time. I hope you like it anyway

Sunny sat beside the pool of water, her spear resting across her knees watching the strange Drev as he knelt by the pool staring at the water below him. She still couldn’t tell how old he was. He could have been as young as she or older than her father had been when he passed, but either way she couldn’t tell.

The dark black of his carapace undulated so black it reflected blue.

They didn’t speak for a very long time, and she closed her eyes thinking quietly to herself as the sun rose overhead.

With the way the mountain encroached in around them, they didn’t see the sun for more than an hour or so before it sunk below the high cliff face once again. Moss was soft below her, and when the sun hit it it burned white hot, but she closed her eyes and relaxed taking long, slow deep breaths through the breathing holes at her neck. In for several seconds and out for several seconds until the world around her seemed to fade away.

In her mind it felt as if she could hear the thrumming of an engine, the Omen whirring above her in the darkness, comforting and warm like the arms of a parent. She missed its warm darkness…. Or did she just miss Adam who she associated to heavily with that place, with the ship.

It occurred to her just then that…. Well she didn’t really associate him with anything else.

The thought gave her a wave of displeasure as she realized.

His identity had been so tied up in his job and ho he was that she…. Well she wasn’t entirely sure if she had ever known him otherwise. Had she just been in love with an idea, had she just loved him simply because no one else had ever seemed willing to try. He was.... The captain of a spaceship, and that was simply everything.

It made her sad sadder than she would have liked to admit.

He had seemed so much more to her then that, so much more than just his job, but th more she thought about him the more she realised she couldn’t rationalize why she had thought that, and what sort of logic had brought her to that original conclusion. He was hollow, a representation of something amazing on the outside but filled with sawdust in the middle.

It wasn’t commentary on him of course. These thoughts weren’t here to make her regret or even to convince herself that he hadn’t been worth it because he had.

He was just…. So lost.

The past few days had convinced her not to feel sorry for herself. That wasn’t the way of the Drev.

But thinking about him, lost and alone, a gossamer through of a person with an identity not his own. She wanted to weep for him, feeling more sorry for the man than she ever had for herself. She thought she understood him now.

Sunny knew she understood.

He was a man who knew he was broken, a half man constructed from one thought. He didn’t believe himself worthy of someone’s attention and so had let her go to save her the hurt of bein with someone like him. He was wrong, of course, but she understood the logic.

In the same way that she would rather take any physical punishment so he would never have to experience it is the same way he would take any emotional punishment to protect her. Inside her chest her heart slowed and her body grew still under the sun, growing warm and then cool as the shadows passed over her.

Until there was nothing.

“It is good to see that drev of your generation have mastered such mental discipline and patience.”

She opened her eyes looking in consternation at the dark Drev who now sat before her, not feet away, and facing her.

She thought she would have noticed him approach, but evidently had been too caught up in her own musings to notice.

On his lap, the Drev held a decorative silver spear with intricate carvings up the side, and the blade sharpened to deadly cutting points by the most artfully crafted Drev obsidian under which would have been a steel and iron cutting edge for when the obsidian was likely to break. It was the most beautiful weapon Sunny had ever seen and she stared at it in awe.

“In past epochs many foolish and impatient Drev have been weeded out by this one simple test.”

Se frowned, “What test.”

He hummed in amusement, “Patience. They storm in here spears bristling and demand I teach them the way of the saints. They threaten and hey rage, and sometimes they would demand I duel them, those that demanded a duel never left this place. But patience is a thing not many Drev understand, for striking first may be advantageous, but the ability to wait for the perfect moment, is a skill not many acquire. Before that there were others, those who would almost have the patience but then would break the silence too early. Sometimes it took them weaks to pass the test with their incessant questions , you're not the first who has come to me, bu you are the first to pass this simple test.”

Sunny looked down at her feet, “I am afraid it is not patience so much as… preoccupation with other things.”

The other Drev seemed to be pleased with this revelation, “Using silent meditation to sort your thoughts is a worthy endeavor, and shows someone with an active mind. Tell me…. Did you find any peace in your thoughts.”

Sunny looked up at the distant blue sky and the clouds that rolled down from above, “I think I did.”

He seemed pleased.

“That’s good, you are further along than most of the Saints were when they came to my mountain.”

Sunny stared at him, “You talk as if you were there, but you can’t be that old.”

He chuckled, “Perhaps I was, perhaps I wasn’t. It's hard to remember with a life like mine. Maybe I was an extension of someone else, maybe I was told the stories as a child as if they were my own. Who can say. Regardless, you have already mastered the skills of patience and careful thought, which is not something that is often common in those who come to my mountain.”

“What IS common.”

He sighed, “Impatience mostly, a lust for power, greed. They don’t usually last long.”

There was silence between them for a long moment, “What’s your name/”

“Naktan Chal but Naktan will do, and yours?”

“Chalan.”

“The name seems like a stranger on your lips.”

She shrugged sheepishly, “I am not used to hearing my name spoken in my own tongue.”

He tilted his head in curiosity, “And what tongue do you hear you name in.”

“The tongue of humans.”

“Humans.” he seemed surprised, “I have never seen a human. I have heard their ships, and their war machines, but have never ventured down from my mountain.”

“Sunny is what they call me.”

“What strange sounds, but surprisingly melodic.” he tilted his head, “tell me, Sunny, why are you here and what do you hope to achieve while on my mountain.”

“It is complicated.”

“The whole story then.”

She sighed, “I assume you can see that I am…. I am….”

“I see that you are short, is that what we are getting at?”

She looked down at the turquoise water, “yes.”

“And?’

He didn’t seem to care and she looked up at him in surprise.”

“Everything, everything about you is an opportunity to take an advantage on the battlefield. Some of our traditions are steeped in lies and the misconstrued words of a few confused prophets. Traditions often become twisted and as times go on. The important part of that particular piece of spiritual doctrine is if you can lift a spear. If you cannot lift a spear is when the original wording of the original doctoring takes effect. Though you are small, you can lift a spear, if you only have one hand, you can lift a spear. The tradition of the recycling only comes when the Kit being born has defects so severe they cannot lift a spear.”

“If a kit were born blind?”

“The kit can still lift a spear, can still smell and feel the currents of wind, can still hear the thundering of feet on the ground and the spear whistling through the air.”

Sunny stared at him in awe, “I had…. No idea that's what the…. Original doctrine said..”

“No one remembers. There is a certain air of elitism in the new drev tradition.”

Sunny paused and nodded, “I think that is what I wish to change.” he listened intently, “I fought the humans, during the Drev war…. Do you know of it?”

“I am kept appraised, yes.”

“Well no one expected me to be good at fighting because of my…. Disfigurement. When the Drev war came along I finally found a foe, I thought I could beat, but when we ripped them apart they came back later with synthetic limbs and we lost the war. In an effort to fight against a mother who never approved of me, I went to learn from the humans, thinking that maybe they could help me. I learned in that time that…. The way we have been doing things, may be done better. That we could learn from them, and in my travels across the universe, that assurance has only grown. I wish to bring the Drev into a new age of martial doctrine, one that matches with the universe we have found ourselves a part of. I want to keep the old tradition alive, and by doing that I know that it has to change.”

Naktan stared at her his fance unreadable for a long moment, but then he bowed his head, and when he looked up again his yellow eyes were twinkling with some sort of…. Merriment, or perhaps excitement.

Either way she couldn’t tell, but supposed the expression was a good one.

“The saints smiled down upon you, wanderer.”

He stood, and with the tip of his spear, he reached out and touched the surface of the water causing a delicate wave of ripples to roll out over the pool, “I will guide you in the right of creation.” he rolled the ip of the spear in the other direction, “I will guide you on a journey to bring the martial doctrine of the Drev into a new age. I cannot tell you how long it will take, and I cannot guarantee you will leave as the same Drev who came here. But I can promise you, that I am glad to see you, and I am pleased to help in your honorable efforts.”

He kicked up a wave of water into the air, and when he did shining sparks of clear seemed to refract rainbows against the sky.

“Sleep, and tomorrow we begin.”

“And may you begin your journey unto sainthood.”

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idjitlili · 4 years

Text

Thranduil x reader

Imagine being childhood friends with Thranduil, hadn’t seen him for centuries, him finding you wounded in the battle of the five armies as you were apart of the company and you fought alongside them. Thorin,Fili,kili live au.

Word count:1540

You lay there in the mud, near erebor, you had been caught off guard. You hadn’t seen Thranduil since he married his wife, you had left after their engagement was announced. You couldn’t bare seeing the man you loved with another women especially one so beautiful.

You were beyond heartbroken, you became a ranger for many years ,then Gandalf had asked you to join Thorin Oakenshields company, you agreed. Then when you arrived at Mirkwood you went with Gandalf he knew about the chances of the dwarves being caught by Thranduils guards,and he knew of you past so he had allowed you to go with him.

You knew how to defend yourself, otherwise you wouldn’t have been a ranger. You were fond of the dwarves and Bilbo , you didn’t understand Thranduils hatred for them. Dwarves were very kind to you, even Thorin he soon warmed up to you. Sometimes when you did have the ponies , you would give Bilbo piggy back rides. You liked his sass, you knew he wasn’t a skilled fighter so you made sure to help him out.

Which led you to the battle of the five armies. Bilbo was being attacked so you stepped in telling him to run; fighting the orcs off. As soon as you turned around to see if Bilbo had made it off, which he did, you felt the cold iron hit your lower stomach. You had looked down to see the blood spilling ; looking back up to see an orc smirking at you , as you collapsed onto the floor.

Everything went black.

Thranduil seen you save Bilbo, he knew you were with the company when Bilbo had given the Arkenstone. Bilbo had mentioned you helping him get out ; without anyone seeing. Thranduils eye widened at this, he had missed you deeply , it was worse after his wife had died. He needed his bestfriend.

“Y/n?” He had muttered out, Bilbo looked up at the king in confusion.

“Uh yeah, you know her?” Bilbo wondered why you hadn’t told him about knowing Thranduil, he knew you had lived in Mirkwood , but you never stayed why you left.

“Is she part of your company?” He had questioned, in disbelief he didn’t think he would ever see you again. No one knew you had left , not even your parents, you left 99% of your stuff. To start over your life, trying to put your life into keeping middle earth safe.

Bilbo had nodded his head, thats all Thranduil needed to know for know.

When he had spotted you , he tried to rush towards you but the orc had stuck you first. Now Thranduil’s face lit with anger ;as he charged at the orc with his sword. His hair swaying against as he sat upon his elk. He had slashed the orc Th o death before jumping off his elk, to your side. The war was over.

His soft palms grazed your face ,his eyes filled with panic, as he lifted your tunic to reveal your wound. He had gasped at the blood pouring out of your. “You are going to be alright.” He muttered over and over he didn’t know if he was trying to convince you or himself. He picked you up bridal style from the ground, getting on to his elk trying to find a healer.

Instead he found Oin, he didn’t trust dwarves but he knew he didn’t have time to be picky,otherwise you would die. He had begged for help, Oin had ushered him to bring you into erebor. Oin has been about to go into erebor when thrandhil found him. Oin led Thranduil to a empty chamber, Thranduil laid you down grabbing a chair to sit next to you in.

Oin got to work , cleaning and stitches your wound ,you were still out cold. Thranduil clutched his hand, hoping for you. His mind flashed of memories of the two of you, playing in Greenwood forest, playing tricks on guards. He knew he loved you, yet he could never tell you though, his father before he was even at age had picked out his wife. He could not disobey his king.

“Is she going to be okay?” Thranduil asked the dwarf as he finished, Oin had looked up at the king. “She should be fine, if she had lost anymore blood..” he smiled slightly at Thranduil. “Thank you.” He had told the healer as he left.

Thranduil stayed with you for , a whole day not eating or anything not evening shittting. After a whole 24 hours you had woken , shocker at your vister who still clutched on to your hand. You turned your hand to face him “Thranduil?” You said dry throatly.

His head snapped towards you in shock, “y/n. You are awake?” He spoke excitedly, you groaned “no I’m dead, yes I’m awake.” You spoke smiling at him lightly, he ignored your comment bringing his chair closer not letting go of your hand though. He felt you head, sighing in pleasure when you had no temperature, as elves rarely get sick.

“Are you the only who brought me here?” You spoke noticing this was the room you had been giving by thorin in erebor. “As soon as I saw you get injured , I grabbed you then found Oin.” You giggled at him. “Oh so now you know dwarves names but thanks for saving my life.”

He sighed,”I missed you y/n.” You looked away from him, “as did I miss you.” You spoke dry as sandpaper. He frowned at you , “why did you leave?”

“Is it that hard to believe I needed a fresh start?” You angrily spat looking at Thranduil as his mouth gapped in shock.

“Why didn’t you stay for my wedding? Why did you tell me were g-“ before he could finish you interrupted him “first you would’ve tried making me stay, secondly I didn’t want to see you get married.” You mouth still dripping with venom pulling your hand from his.

“Why?” He questioned again you were getting annoyed at him saying why. “Stop asking why already, just drop it.” You go to stand up only for Thranduil to push you down. “You will pull your stitches.” He gestured to your lower stomach, you pulled the fabric of your tunic up to reveal many stitches. You look away quickly.

“Why did you stay?” You were confused why he didn’t go back and led Mirkwood , he isn’t supposed to leave Mirkwood for long time. You thought it was weird he was holding you hand when you woke up.

“Because I care for you.” You spoke simply. , you scrunched your face not believing him. “Bullshit.” He sighed standing up annoyed, “stop being stubborn, you were my bestfriend y/n of course I care for you.” He turned to look at you, you couldn’t bare to be to around him anymore.

You carefully got up ignoring the horrendous pain, walking over to thranduil , who gasped seeing you up, before he could say anything you spoke first.”you want to know why I left? Hm?” You questioned angrily he nods his head. “I left because I love you, I couldn’t bare to see you marry someone else. So now the snake is out of the box leave.” You spoke angrily pointing to your door.

Before you could even react his lips were on yours , cupping your cheeks. You pulled away , still angry “you are married Thranduil. Stop.” You turn away from him , spotting a cup of water on your bedside table , walking to and drinking it.

“She died , giving birth to my son,but I never loved her like I love you y/n.” You turned around to thranduil and gasped.

“You had a child with someone you didn’t love? “ you scoffed at the elven king.

“My father arranged the marriage, and if I wasn’t to officiate the marriage my father would have know, they had scribes Out side the door. My father would’ve disowned me. I had no choice.” He grasped yours hands , you felt tingles go up your arms.

“That’s for the information on your sex life.” You spat pulling away from thranduil.

“I love you y/n, please I always have.” His facial expression softening presenting his sincere attentions.

You could bare to wait no longer you loved him so much, you had been waiting centuries.

“Do you really?” You questioned.

“Yes, I do. So please come home with me and be my queen.” He brought his hand to caress your cheek, you placed your hand over his.

“If I agree do you promise to be friendly with Thorin and the dwarves , team up with him once his again?” You looked into his ocean eyes.

“I would do anything for you, now let’s go together thorin doesn’t kill me.”

“Wait he doesn’t know you are here?”

“Oin told him that you could have no visitors so he wouldn’t know.”

“Oh darn you are in trouble.” You giggle

#the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader #thranduil x y/n #thranduil

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

Blue Eyes Epilogue

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

“Alf?”

“You alright, love? I heard you getting a bit heated over the phone.” Alfie was at the sink, gently washing the sand off Ezra’s feet. Father and son had been out on the beach that morning watching the waves and the sea birds overhead.

“I was on the phone with Tommy.” Ella set Sofia down so she could go to Alfie.

“I figured that much.” He replied sympathetically.

She walked around to stand by the sink. Ezra gave her a gummy smile, squirming a bit because of the cold water on his toes. Ella grabbed a towel to give to Alfie so he could dry Ezra off. “I just don’t know what to think anymore.”

“About what, love?” He asked, shutting off the sink and taking the towel from his wife.

“Just…everything. Tommy was going on and on about how things used to be. I mean-I understand where he’s coming from. He spent all that time looking toward the future, looking at what he could have instead of appreciating what he did have. Now he regrets it because look at everything that’s happened. We’ve lost so many people. But…I like what I have now. I can’t look to the past anymore.”

“I hate to say it, but your brother’s gone and dug his own grave, hasn’t he? He wanted power and this is what it gave him. The man doesn’t know when to quit.” Alfie wiped off Ezra’s feet even though the toddler gave him a bit of a hard time, kicking his legs and giggling like mad.

“But we know when to step away, right?” Ella asked quietly.

Alfie set Ezra down so he could dry his hands off. “What’s the matter, love? Talk to me.”

Ella wrapped her arms around herself, thoroughly shaken by the world around her. When once she had been so fearless, she was becoming aware of how chaotic things could become. “I’m scared that we’re going to lose everything we’ve worked for.”

“We’re not gonna lose anything. What are you afraid of losing?” Alfie wasn’t looking to ridicule his wife, he saw the fear in her eyes, and in turn, it worried him. One of his primary jobs was to comfort her.

“I’m afraid of losing you, I’m afraid of losing the twins, I-I’m afraid of losing my sanity, Alfie.” Her voice broke. “I never expected any of this to happen. Th-this has all gone too far and I can’t take it anymore.”

“It’s alright love.” He embraced her, pulling her to his chest.

“It’s not alright, Alfie. I’m not going to give you up because of the things Tommy does. But there are things in this world that I can’t stop.”

Alfie was starting to pick up on the root of her worry. After all, Mosley was just one man. They could deal with individuals, gangs even. But when there was some sort of movement, with an unknown amount of people following? Well, they couldn’t exactly fight off the world, could they? Even if Tommy Shelby liked to think he could. “The world we’re living in, s’not ideal, is it? But there are more people who are willing to fight this than are willing to stay quiet.”

“How do you know that?” She asked.

“Because I fought in a bloody war for the sake of this country.” He reminded her. “I don’t doubt that we’d do it again if we’re threatened again.”

“But they’re here, Alfie. There are people in Britain who would rather see you hung than fight for you.”

There were things that Alfie could brush off. He could brush off her brother’s disdain for him. He could brush off the slurs that Darby was so fond of calling him. He could even brush off that he was shot in the eye. But he couldn’t brush off his wife’s concern for him. “What would you suggest we do then, love?” He asked softly, gently petting her hair.

“I think we should just go somewhere else.” She whispered. “We can go to America, we can put this behind us.”

“There are fascists in America, El. There ain’t a place on this Earth that’s pure.” He told her truthfully. “America might be further away, but it ain’t much different.”

Ella couldn’t argue with that. She knew that it didn’t matter how far she went. It didn’t matter if she changed her last name from Shelby. She would always be involved in Tommy’s game. It was her birthright. Something would always bring her back.

“Mumma.”

Ella drew away from Alfie so she could scoop Ezra up. “I won’t lose them.” She whispered. It had been painful enough to lose her twins before they were even born. But to lose Ezra and Sofia after she had bonded with them? Ella knew she would never be able to come back from that.

Alfie nodded. “Well, we’ve got more than enough money to retire. We can sell the bakery, sell the flat in Camden. We can stay here for the rest of our lives.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know. It’s a scary world, but you know we can make it work. It’ll be alright. I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~

For the next few years, Ella lived her life very removed from her family. That wasn’t to say she never saw them. She made a habit to keep in touch but wouldn’t involve herself in any business matters. She was vocal about Tommy’s mental state but there wasn’t anything anyone could do. It was all in his hands. And he continued on as the soldier he was.

Lizzie and Polly confided in Ella often, if only to make sure they weren’t going crazy because of Tommy’s behavior. But they also respected that Ella was raising her own family and had more than enough good reasons to keep her distance.

For the most part, she and Alfie remained at Margate with the children. Retired and happy to be retired, Alfie was content staying by the ocean. They returned to Camden for special occasions or to see friends and family. But Ella felt much more comfortable at Margate. Going back to London was just another reminder of the trouble brewing. There was unrest, not just in the city, and not just in the country. It was across the continent and Ella felt like everyone was just holding their breath, waiting for the powder keg to explode again.

Outside of the city, however, she felt much more removed from it all. She could truly enjoy her life as being a wife and mother. She had gained the peace she had always looked forward to.

As the twins grew, their personalities started to blossom and it was such a lovely thing to see.

Sofia was a rambunctious little girl who loved the outdoors. One of her favorite things was to trawl the shoreline with Alfie by her side so she could find little sea critters in tide pools. Or sometimes she’d crouch in the garden, hunting for bugs and earthworms. A day without getting her clothes stained with dirt or covered in sand was not a day well spent in Sofia’s eyes.

Ezra was on the shyer side. He became very bashful when talking to people he didn’t know well and would cling to Ella when they were visiting others in Camden. But he was curious in his own way. Often times, he would have long discussions with his father, simply asking endless questions about how things worked. Where the sun went at night, how did clocks know the time, how did the record player work, why did Cyril have a tail and he didn’t, how come birds fly, how big is the moon. Any little thing would pique his curiosity and he would rush to Alfie for information.

Trouble was, Alfie wasn’t too sure how to answer his questions most of the time. There were some things he could explain, but most of Ezra’s questions were beyond his expertise. It was a blessing, then, that Ezra learned to read at a very young age. He absorbed books like a sponge and it was hard to get him to stop reading and go to bed.

Their differing personalities positively enchanted Ella. Despite how difficult motherhood was, she was so happy to take the journey. Every day, her children surprised her and gave her another reminder of how blessed she was.

It was a difficult balance, trying to keep her children safe while still allowing them to have a relationship with their kin. It was easier to have them around the people from Camden. They grew up with the other children of Ella’s friends and came to know the people they would consider like aunts and uncles.

But with Birmingham, Ella was very cautious. She understood how easy it was to be swept up into the Shelby Company Limited. Her cousin Michael was a great example. Although raised outside of the family, once he was back in, there was no going back. Ella refused to allow her children to be roped in. Perhaps she was being over-skeptical of her own family. But she was willing to be over-cautious rather than let her guard down.

Still, she allowed her children to attend parties and holidays with the Shelby family. It was tense, at least in Ella’s shoes. She watched her brothers like a hawk whenever they were around the twins.

~~~~~~~~~~

One bright summer afternoon, while celebrating Finn’s birthday at Arrow House, Tommy came over to his sister.

She was sitting in the shade, watching her children play with their cousins on the lawn. Cyril and Anthea were running around with them, just as happy. Alfie was talking with Polly a bits away. The two had grown a well-formed relationship of respect. Polly liked that he had taken care of Ella all those years and Alfie appreciated Polly’s sanity.

Tommy took a seat beside his sister and pulled out a cigarette. He coughed a bit as he lit it.

“Y’know, some people are saying smoking is bad for you.” She said. “Maybe you should cut down.”

“Lots of things in life are bad for you.” He replied and took a drag from the cigarette anyways.

“Charlie looks so much like Grace now.” Ella did everything in her power to avoid arguments at family functions. She knew there was no point, nothing she could do would change anyone’s minds especially Tommy’s.

Charlie was kicking a football back and forth with Karl, trying to keep the ball from Anthea. He was so grown from the little toddler that he once was. He was nearly a teenager, had grown like a weed, and indeed was nearly the spitting image of his mother.

“He’s been asking about her,” Tommy told Ella. “He knows Lizzie isn’t his biological mother, so he’s been asking about Grace.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That we lost her before he was old enough to remember her. I gave him all the photographs I had of her. I don’t know what else to do.”

“I don’t think there’s much else you can do.” Ella shrugged.

The siblings went quiet for a moment. Tommy smoking and Ella watching the children play.

“Do you trust me, El?” He asked out of nowhere.

“Trust you?”

“Yeah.”

She glanced over at him to gauge whether he was trying to get a rise out of her or not. But he seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because it seems like anytime I’m near Ezra or Sofia, you’re looking at me like I’m about to kidnap them or feed ‘em to a lion.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t even say that.”

“So, you completely trust me, then? I’m just overthinking things, aye?” He challenged.

Ella crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you.”

“You’re kin, Ella. They’re kin. Fuck it, even Alfie is kin by now. You really think I’m going to bring them harm?”

“I trust that you want what’s best for everyone. I trust that all those years ago, you made a conscious decision to help this family. I trust that maybe you didn’t anticipate all of this, and if you had known maybe you never would’ve done any of it. I know you’re a good man, Tommy. I know the person you were growing up. I just…I wish you would quit this. I thought so many times that this would be the one thing that would make you stop. But every time, no matter what happened, you kept at it. I know that if you don’t stop, you’ll be killed. And if that’s something you accept then…there’s nothing else I can do.” She sighed heavily. “But I have to protect my children from that fate. I know you don’t want this for our kids. You said so many times that if we had children, they would never grow up the same way we did. We were supposed to be the ones to stop the cycle, Tom.”

“I know.” He said in a rare tone of assent.

“I’m scared,” Ella admitted, trying to keep her composure for the sake of the party. “I’m so fucking scared of everything in this world now, Tommy.”

Tommy had always known his sister to be fearless. Now it seemed that motherhood had brought up new fears in her. Maybe because she knew what it was like to grow up poor in a dangerous neighborhood. She was familiar with guns before she even went to school. She’d seen death and violence at an early age. It was only a natural instinct to want better for her children. But it didn’t mean she had to have such a crippling fear of everything. “Things are gonna be alright, El.”

“That’s what Alfie says, that’s what everyone says but I’m not blind!” She exclaimed. “I know that it’s only a matter of time ‘fore…”

“Before what?” He asked gently.

Ella shook her head. “It’s a cycle, Tommy, it’s always a cycle. Do you know what I prayed for every night while you and Arthur and John were in France?”

Tommy could only imagine. She was so young back then. “I don’t-tell me.”

“I prayed that you three would all come back home safe. And when you did, I prayed that you’d all find nice women and settle down. I prayed that you would all have good lives and be at peace. But then I saw you at the train station and I knew that would never happen. The things you saw over there, the things that happened…I know why you three changed, I get it. But I never anticipated what would happen after that.”

“I know.”

Ella looked down at her hands, almost too tired to continue going around in circles with him. Facts were facts and the past was the past. “Do you think we’re going to go to war?”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah.”

She swallowed and chewed on her lip. “And that doesn’t scare you?”

What else could he say? His nightmares were growing more severe, the shovels were getting louder.

“It terrifies me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

After Finn’s birthday party, Ella felt a little more forgiving toward her family. Maybe if they understood her anxiety, she could trust them a bit more. She also knew that there was no use arguing with Tommy. Both of them understood what it felt like for their sanity to slowly trickle away. They understood what it felt to have the world on their shoulders. They were too alike to blame one another.

One night, back in Margate, Ella was coming in from bringing Cyril and Anthea out. She shrugged off her coat and hung up the dog leashes. Anthea bolted to Ezra’s bedroom while Cyril hobbled down the hall. The bullmastiff was getting up in age but still had the same docile demeanor he had when she had met him for the first time in London as a pup.

Ella gave the old dog a pat. “Good boy.” She said softly and followed him into Ezra’s room where Alfie was reading a bedtime story to the twins.

“My armor is like tenfold…”

“No, Smaug is still talking so you’ve gotta do the voice!” Ezra protested.

Alfie chuckled. “Alright, alright.” He cleared his throat and began to rumble in a deep, menacing voice. “My armor is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail is a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath…death!” He read from The Hobbit dramatically.

Sofia and Ezra laughed, delighted by all the voices their father did for every book he read them. It was commonplace. Alfie always read to them even if he struggled with the strain on his one good eye and often got headaches.

The eight-year-old twins were always insistent that he read to them, and Alfie wasn’t exactly complaining. He loved their rapt expressions as he read. Sofia often laid on the bed, petting Cyril or Anthea as she imagined the scene her father was describing. Ezra cuddled up close to Alfie in the crook of his arm so he could try and read along with his father. Sometimes he’d stop Alfie and point to a word he didn’t understand, asking for the definition.

Sometimes, Ella would sit in just to spend those last few moments of the day with her family. But that night, it had grown too late.

“It’s late, my loves.” She interrupted.

Sofia looked up and pulled a pout. “Nooooo, mummy it’s not that late!”

“It’s summer!” Ezra chimed in.

“It is quite late.” Ella walked into the room.

“Mum’s right.” Alfie dog-eared the page in the book and began to untangle himself from the children, Ezra on his arm and Sofia sprawled over his legs.

“But dad hasn’t finished the chapter,” Ezra whined.

“S’a long chapter, mate.” His father stood and helped him under the covers. “We’ll pick up on the rest of it tomorrow.” He promised. “Not much left of this book anyhow, don’t want to go storming through the rest. Best we take our time ‘n savor it, aye?” He scooped Sofia up so he could bring her to her bedroom.

Ella tucked Ezra in and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight my love.”

Cyril took his place in his bed on the floor of Ezra’s room. It was remarkable because the old dog liked sleeping in the little boy’s room. Ella guessed it was because Ezra spent so much time inside reading with Cyril snoozing beside him on the sofa. Meanwhile, Anthea chose to sleep in Sofia’s room. She was very fond of the little girl who always took her out for adventures outside.

So, Anthea followed them as they brought Sofia across the hall. She hopped up on the bed and curled up by Sofia’s feet.

Alfie and Ella kissed her goodnight before retiring to their own bedroom.

Ella sank into bed as Alfie got ready for the night.

“Y’know, I like the voices you do too.” She commented.

“Aye?” He chuckled.

“Your dragon voice is very nice.”

“Nice?” He grinned and tossed his shirt to the side. Striding over, he grabbed his wife’s ankles to tug her down the bed.

She stifled a squeal and giggled. “Alfie!”

“Hush now. Don’t go waking up the whole house.” He murmured in a low voice and began to creep up her body until they were face to face.

“Or what? You’ll eat me up?” She teased; her heart started to flutter in her chest. After years of being together, Alfie still never failed to make her swoon. It felt like every night she fell in love with him all over again. Whether they made love or she simply just fell asleep in his arms.

He laughed and captured her lips with his. One hand pressed into the bed while the other lightly grazed down her side before resting on her thigh.

When he drew back, she wove her fingers into his hair and pecked his lips a few more times. “I love you, Alfie Solomons.” She murmured.

“And I love you too, Ella Solomons.” He replied, looking down at her with so much adoration in his eyes.

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

August 1940, the Solomons family traveled out to Small Heath. The twins’ birthday had been a few days earlier but they were now going to celebrate with Ella’s side of the family.

It was a strange time to be celebrating anything. The continent was at war yet again. It had been almost a year since Britain declared war and started to mobilize. Ella got horrifying flashbacks off the time her brothers had been at war. It was so difficult to fathom that they would live through a repeat of the Great War. But this time, eyes were turned to the next generation. The generation that had been too young to fight, now they were ready.

Ella urged Polly to do everything she could to keep the Peaky boys off the front lines. But it was futile, not with how headstrong they all were, and not with the draft initiated.

Now they could all only hope this war wouldn’t last as long as the first one did. They could only hope it wouldn’t be as gruesome and wouldn’t claim as many lives.

“Erdington then Castle Bromwich,” Arthur muttered under his breath as he stood by the kitchen counter, drink in hand.

“They’re trying to get a better target.” Tommy agreed with a grim look.

“Enough.” Polly shushed the men, pointing a cake knife at them. “No talk of the war, not tonight. Let the children be children.”

“Sorry, Pol,” Arthur mumbled.

Of course, the war was on all of their minds. It was nearly impossible to ignore it.

Polly brought the two cakes over to set in front of Sofia and Ezra. As she lit the candles, the family gathered around the table and began to sing Happy Birthday.

Ella was ready with her camera to take a picture of them as Alfie stood behind them, with a proud look on his face.

But the moment didn’t last long.

A loud explosion rocked the very ground and was almost immediately followed by a high pitched siren that had become so common to hear in the cities.

The men who fought reacted the quickest. Alfie grabbed Sofia and Ezra by the hand and hurried them to the cellar doors. Polly gathered the rest of the children as Arthur hurried them all along. Ella set her camera down on the table and blew out the birthday candles so they wouldn’t catch anything on fire. Tommy shut the lights off in the house, making sure everything was off upstairs as well.

Once dark, he glanced out the window.

“Tommy, c’mon.” Ella urged and grabbed her brother by the arm.

The two headed downstairs where the rest of the family was hiding out from the air raid.

They knew it was a possibility it was a false alarm. There had been dozens. But there was no telling either way.

“Mummy!” Sofia wailed.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Ella hushed her softly and gathered her into her arms. Alfie held her and the twins close, gently soothing them.

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

It wasn’t a false alarm. Bombs shook the city with such intensity that everyone in the cellar was praying silently or out loud. It felt like they were down there for days when it was mere hours.

No one could sleep that night. In the morning, Ella left the house, she couldn’t listen to the radio anymore. She walked down to the Bullring and found it in ruins. The buildings had been gutted and ash was covering the ground.

It was nearly impossible to fully comprehend. People around her stood and stared at the scene in shock as well. Some were crying, others were too lost to react.

Ella was in such a state that she didn’t notice Tommy standing next to her for a good while. When she did, she glanced up at him.

He saw the same scared little girl who asked her older brothers not to go to France. She was too afraid they wouldn’t come back. She was still there, the scared girl who was afraid of what war would bring her family.

“I’ve got a few leads on houses in the countryside. Plenty of space for you and the kids.” Tommy said quietly.

“We have Margate.”

“Alfie wants to stay away from any city or town. Anything that might become a target. The country is the best option.”

“You spoke to him?”

“Last night.”

Ella’s stomach was in knots. “Okay.”

He nodded. “Stay in Margate until then.”

“We will.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfie was still at the flat with the rest of the family when Ella returned. He was sitting by the radio with Arthur, both of them silent. Ezra was laying on the carpet, drawing while Sofia sat on Alfie’s lap.

Arthur turned the volume down a bit when his sister came in. “Alright, El?”

“Yeah, I think we’re going to go back to Margate.” She said quietly.

Alfie nodded. “Sof and Ez go get your things, yeah?”

The kids got up to gather their things as Alfie stood up from the armchair. “Did Tommy talk to you about our plan?”

She nodded. “Yeah, he did.”

“That’s okay?”

“We need to keep them safe.” She concluded. “Anyway, we can.”

“Okay.” He kissed her forehead and rubbed her shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~

It didn’t take long before Tommy bought the Solomons a place in the countryside. A lovely little home with a sprawling garden and plenty of space for the twins and the dogs.

He saw them off at the train station. Most likely, it would be some time before they saw one another again. Knowing Ella, she would keep her children in the safest possible place until they were guaranteed safety in the outside world. Tommy knew he had to respect that.

“Bye Uncle Tommy.” Ezra and Sofia chimed off, each giving him a big hug.

“Be good for mum and dad, aye?” He said gently. “Make sure you give everyone a call once and a while, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Tom.” Alfie gave his brother-in-law a hearty handshake. “Thanks, mate.”

“Of course.”

Ella swallowed her tears as she hugged Tommy next. “Thank you.”

“I should’ve done this for you when you asked all those years ago. When you wanted to be free and safe.”

“I never would’ve met Alfie if you did.” She pointed out with a tearful smile.

“I guess so.” He chuckled and let go of her.

“Right, ready then?” Alfie helped the kids up into the car of the train then held a hand out to his wife.

She nodded. “Ready.”

-The end

//Thank you to everyone who stuck around for this long! It was so hard to end this but I leave the rest up to season 6 and see how things go from there. Huge thanks to my tag lists. If you’re interested my masterlist of all my oneshots and series are pinned to the top of my blog and my requests are open.I’m currently working on a new Alfie series so stay tuned. In the mean time I have a lot of Alfie one shots with more on the way as well as plenty of Tommy content.

Thank you again!

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signs-of-the-moon · 3 years

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Moon Rise: Chapter 52

"Swiftcloud!" The voice called again, sounding like an echo in her ears. Swiftcloud hardly reacted, remaining as stiff as an icicle. Was it her mind? Was it a Starclan warrior yowling at her to stop?

"Swiftcloud!" The third time the voice sounded, Swiftcloud broke from her rage. The world, once blurry and distant, came rushing back into her vision in vibrant color. Blinking, the patched she-cat turned her head. She took notice of her clanmates surrounding her now, wide eyed and bristling. Whitestar stood closest of all, a paw raised to her chest in shock. Instantly Swiftcloud's blood ran cold, fear tightening her chest. It had been the leader's voice which had been calling her name. The situation must look bad. Swiftcloud was standing on top of Grassclan's eldest medicine cat, ready to strike her without mercy. Without proper context it must look like she was trying to kill Snowfrost in cold blood. Like she was the clan's murderer all along. When the opposite was true. Oh how Swiftcloud knew it was true. I'm in trouble...

What would happen now, Swiftcloud wondered. Harming a medicine cat was an incredibly serious offense. Surely Grassclan would not want to keep her among their ranks. They'd never believe that she only attacked Snowfrost to avenge their fallen deputy; after all, what proof did she have? I'm probably about to be exiled; stripped of my warriorship and sent running back to Twolegplace. Or worse...I'll be executed!

"I can't believe you've done this..." Whitestar hissed, voice barely above a whisper. Her pale blue eyes shone with fury, a layer of grief masked behind her expression. Swiftcloud shrank in place, but did not dare to step off of Snowfrost. "It took so long for the clan to trust you. Yet you've betrayed us, after everything we've done for you."

Swiftcloud gulped, wanting to disappear. She tried her best to keep her trembling at bay but she knew the clan could probably tell how scared she was by scent alone. This is it...

"I knew we shouldn't have accepted you. And I knew...I knew I should have trusted Swiftcloud more."

Huh?!

"Guards, seize Snowfrost."

Rabbitstorm and Beetlepatch came marching forward at once, expressions stone cold and serious.

"Step aside," Rabbitstorm commanded his friend softly. Swiftcloud remained still, unsure if she could even move at all. Slowly she tested her limbs, making each take a couple of pawsteps back until she realized that she had moved completely off of Snowfrost. Rabbitstorm seized the medicine cat by the scruff while Beetlepatch gripped her carefully on the other side.

"Bring Snowfrost back to camp so we may hold a trial to decide her fate. Sheeptail and Tigerfang, carry Chicorynose home with us. Cricketsong, Quailbelly, Swiftcloud, please join me at the head of the patrol."

At once, cats moved into formation, standing behind Whitestar as she waited for her sisters and Swiftcloud to stand beside her.

"Let go of me you rabbit-brains!" Snowfrost demanded with a snarl, trying to wiggle out of the guards' grasp. Rabbitstorm and Beetlepatch gripped harder, tugging her in the direction of home. After another heartbeat of hesitation, Swiftcloud scurried over to Whitestar, still on edge. Whitestar glanced at her with a sad smile as they stood side by side, waving her tail and marching forward. The clan followed, soft chatter rippling through the patrol. On the opposite side of their leader, Swiftcloud could hear the heartbroken sobs of Cricketsong and Quailbelly, who pressed into one another as they traveled. Whitestar leaned into Cricketsong for support, and Swiftcloud found herself pressing her flank in the siamese molly's other side.

"Whitestar..?" Swiftcloud piped quietly. Whitestar glanced at her, humming in response. "You..believe I wasn't attacking Snowfrost maliciously?"

"Yes. For the most part, the clan and I saw what happened."

"H-how?"

"We heard you yowl and came over to see what had happened. Cricketsong was the first to notice the blood covering Snowfrost. And I knew you would never attack a cat without purpose."

Swiftcloud gave a small nod, turning her sights forward. The tremble had not left her body but relief came with Whitestar's words.

"I'm sorry that I did not believe you before. I did not want to mistrust a medicine cat. And I did not want to make an accusation without proper evidence."

"It's ok, Whitestar. I'm just grateful that you finally understand."

"As am I. Though I wish I had, before things had escalated to this point. All the destruction Snowfrost has caused...I wonder what other horrible things she's done over the moons."

The remainder of the clan who'd been left in the camp-the kits, Tabitha and Ashwhisker- were awaiting the patrol as they entered the clearing. They seemed eager to find out what the outcome of the battle had been. But when they caught a glimpse of the three distraught sisters, their expressions turned with worry.

"Have we lost?" Ashwhisker asked, voice flat and defeated. Swiftcloud straightened up to speak.

"No. Grassclan won the war, and we've marked the new border along the Thunder Path."

"But..?" Ashwhisker already knew there had to be more news.

"....We lost Chicorynose."

Ashwhisker's eyes widened, ears lowering. "To whom?"

Just as the question passed his lips, Rabbitstorm entered the camp, dragging Snowfrost along with him. Swiftcloud nodded towards the guilty she-cat, eyes darkening at the sight of her. Ashwhisker let out a growl, the fur along his spine rising.

"I knew we could never trust that fox-heart."

Swiftcloud was surprised by the Den Mother's words. Why did he feel that way? What part of Snowfrost's past had led so many in the clan to dislike her? Swiftcloud was tempted to ask, but held back her tongue. Perhaps she'd find out during the trial. If not, she'd be free to ask afterwards.

Swiftcloud brought herself over to the gathering crowd by Tall Stone. She sat herself near the center of her clan, settling into Shadowfang's side. Shadowfang gave her a loud reassuring purr, licking some of the blood off of the top of her muzzle while they waited for Whitestar to arrive.

Whitestar scaled slowly to the top of Tall Stone, her movements sluggish from fatigue and grief. A heavy weight set itself upon her shoulders. Though the clan gained it's full claim on the Forest Patch, they had lost something greater than territory.

"Today, Grassclan has achieved it's greatest accomplishment in years. After many hard battles, and a long bloody war, our clan has won the right to the Forest Patch up to the Thunder Path! This means a bright future for generations of our clan to come. But today is not all victorious. For this evening we have lost a very important and beloved member of our clan."

As Whitestar spoke these words, Goldensong and Mistyleaf brought Chicorynose out from the medicine den. Her body had been decorated with mint leaves to mask her death scent, her fur neatly groomed and fixed of any visible battle wounds.

"Chicorynose fought bravely in today's battle. And though I'd like to announce she died with the honor of a warrior, I'm saddened and sickened to say she has been taken from us for unjust means. Chicorynose has been slain in cold blood, and I shall see to it that her murderer faces justice. However, my focus cannot remain on that for this moment."

Whitestar stepped forward onto the edge of the Tall Stone, her eyes scanning the crowd as she continued with her speech. "As moon high approaches, it is time that I choose a new deputy. Chicorynose served us well for many seasons; from the moment I earned my nine lives. I have never thought of ruling without her by my side.... But I know that the cat who I shall choose will lead with me just as faithfully, and will make a fine leader of this clan in the future."

Cats among the crowd murmured to each other softly, everyone wondering who Whitestar may choose as her heir.

"I say these words before the body of Chicorynose, so that her spirit may hear and approve my choice..."

The clan drew just a bit closer to the leader, waiting with baited breath as she thought for a heartbeat more about her decision.

"Swiftcloud. Will you accept the position of deputy?"

Me..? Swiftcloud's fur bristled at the sound of her name, her skin lighting ablaze with heat. She had been the one chosen as the clan's next deputy? She was shocked to say the least. Nervous, excited, apprehensive, bewildered. But honored, surely and purely. Swiftcloud was more than happy to serve Grassclan as it's second in command, leading them and protecting them with every breath in her body. But was she really the right choice? Surely there were many cats who were more worthy of the position. Swiftcloud could name several off the top of her head. What made her so special that she could even compare to anyone else?

Swiftcloud stared up at Whitestar with wide eyes, unable to find the words she needed to give a proper answer to the leader's proposal.

As she looked on, the moon reached it's peak in the sky, casting it's light straight upon Tall Stone. The moon made Whitestar's creamy siamese fur glow with divinity, her essence seeming to radiate the energy Starclan had granted her for the ceremony.

For a heartbeat, in the moonlight, Swiftcloud could make out the shimmering transparent shape of a cat standing beside Whitestar on her perch. The spirit wrapped its tail around the front of the leader, hugging her to it's body as it's starry green eyes locked themselves upon Swiftcloud. Swiftcloud would recognize that figure anywhere. Chicorynose! Had she come back as a sign of her approval?

Swiftcloud blinked. No sooner she had taken notice of the fallen warrior, she was gone, leaving Swiftcloud alone with the decision she had made.

"Yes, Whitestar," she finally spoke as the crowd parted to let her step forward. Swiftcloud dipped her head respectfully then raised it once again as she settled in front of clanmates. She could feel the moonlight cast upon form, placing her right into the spotlight. In this moment she felt all of her anxiety leave her body. Starclan's will granted her courage. "I humbly accept this offer. It will be an honor to serve as Grassclan's deputy."

"Swiftcloud!" Shadowfang caterwauled with brightest smile on his face.

"Swiftcloud! Swiftcloud! Swiftcloud!" The clan began to cheer along. Swiftcloud's pelt grew warmer with every chant and cheer Grassclan raised in her honor, the purr in her chest unlike any that had come from her before. But her moment of joy was cut short as Snowfrost's furious caterwauls split through the camp. Rabbitstorm and Beetlepatch looked as though they were struggling to contain her.

Whitestar glared over into the prisoner's direction, her fur standing on end. Saying she looked displeased at the interruption would be an understatement.

"I suppose now we should move onto our next order of business." Whitestar sounded bitter, her voice dripping with venom. Snowfrost was dragged to the front of the crowd, making cats step aside to allow the guilty medicine cat some space.

Dewstone padded over afterwards, settling herself in front of Grassclan's prisoner. Her expression was dark, riddled with the betrayal she must feel in the face of her kin.

"Snowfrost. Tonight, you are on trial for crimes against the Land's Star." Whitestar began. She sounded as if she'd gone through this process before, the words passing her lips with a trained ease. "Dewstone, address the charges of which she is being held accountable for."

Dewstone lifted her muzzle. "The cat you see before you has committed a crime that is not only against both the Warrior Code and Medicine Cat's Code, but against what should be one's moral code. She has acted upon selfish whims, and has murdered a cat in cold blood. And not just any cat; but Grassclan's deputy."

"Do you have any explanations for what you have done?" Whitestar asked Snowfrost. "Do you have a justified reason for killing Chicorynose?"

"No, Whitestar," Snowfrost muttered coldly through gritted teeth. "I do not."

Whitestar nodded to Dewstone. Her tail lashed, as if she were trying to get out some of her anguish with this movement alone. "Please, continue."

Dewstone nodded back before returning her attention to the crowd. "Furthermore, evidence has been brought forward that perhaps, this may not have been Snowfrost's first offense. Thanks to one of our brave warriors, and confirmation from our medicine cat, Goldensong; we now have suspicion that Snowfrost may have poisoned several of our recently deceased. Waspwing, Butterflytail, Ambereye, and Dovekit. As well as the attempted murder of our new deputy, Swiftcloud, just a quarter moon ago."

Swiftcloud's eyes grew wide with shock. So Whitestar had taken her accusations seriously? Swiftcloud wasn't previously aware that the leader had discussed her theory with Dewstone. She honestly hadn't thought Whitestar believed her at all, by the way she had been acting. Or perhaps she made it look that way. Maybe Whitestar was suspicious too, and that's why she'd shared the information with the Code Keeper. Regardless, Swiftcloud was glad to see that Snowfrost would be rightfully punished if it came to light that she really had been poisoning cats.

"Snowfrost, do you have anything to say in defense of yourself? If these accusations of are false, then this is the time to speak up," Whitestar prompted. She looked down at the medicine cat, the smallest twinkle of hope gleaming in her blue eyes. Perhaps Grassclan's leader still held the slightest bit of faith in Snowfrost. Whether it was foolish to or not. Swiftcloud couldn't blame Whitestar for that. Medicine cats were the highest authority in a clan, with their special connection to their ancestors. A leader was meant to hold a strong bond with their healers for that very reason.

"Unfortunately, I've no way to prove my innocence. Nor do I want to. I have no shame in what I have done," Snowfrost responded, voice eerily calm.

Gasps flitted around the clearing. Angry clanmates whispered among themselves while some tucked their bodies into kin for support. The clan was collectively in shock. How could Snowfrost remain so poised, despite basically confessing to a multitude of murders?

Whitestar shut her eyes, turning her head away in shame. If one looked hard enough, they may be able to catch the slightest glints of tears at the corners of the leader's eyes. Whitestar took a deep breath to regain her composure. She placed her focus back onto Dewstone before speaking once again.

"All the evidence has been laid upon us. Now it is time to cast judgement. Dewstone, what is your conclusion?"

Dewstone stood tall, posture straight and head raised as she announced her verdict. "On the multiple charges of murder, this Code Keeper finds the accused to be guilty. Snowfrost's crime is an unacceptable offense. She deserves the harshest of punishments, such as name stripping, exile, or even execution." Dewstone looked up at Whitestar. "She has broken our Codes before, it would be what is best for the clan."

"Very well." Whitestar stepped onto the edge of the Tall Stone. "This cat has disgraced our clan by breaking the Codes of the Land's Star, using the name of a medicine cat to get away with these crime. Starclan has spoken their disapproval and have granted me the power to take this rank away, just as easily as it had been given to you before. Snowfrost, you are no longer to be known by this name, but simply as Snow. You have forsaken us, and no longer deserve to be a medicine cat of Grassclan. I say these words before the spirits of our ancestors, so that they may hear and approve of my decision." Whitestar yowled, "I hereby sentence the cat you see before us into exile!"

#warrior cats #wcs #warrior cats ocs #wcs ocs #Signs of the Moon: Moon Rise #Signs of the Moon #Moon Rise #Chapter 52

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kailedger · 4 years

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for all the YOI fanfic author, p.2

Oh wow, let me tell you, I really didn't expect the previous post on Russian culture to blow up ahaha (Here’s the link to it, in case you’re wondering: https://kailedger.tumblr.com/post/621351027189350400/for-all-the-yoi-fanfic-authors) But since it did, I decided to make a part two, sort of? It's not gonna be about mistakes in fanfiction, but more about things English-speaking authors don't mention simply because they don't know they exist.

I’ll give you the general info and then maybe throw some thoughts about how specific YOI characters would relate to that info in my personal opinion.

HOLIDAYS. We have a lot of those TBH, but I'll mention the most important ones - the ones for which we have official days off. I mean, yeah, you can find a list of those in Wikipedia, if you want, but it doesn't actually tell you the reality of things. I've already mentioned the New Year in the previous post, so let’s skip it.

23rd of February is the Defender of the Fatherland Day. It's actually for those who served in the army, but the tradition is to congratulate everyone who's male. Must have something to do with the fact that on 8th of March we have an International Women's Day, when we congratulate everyone who's female. Doesn't really make sense to me, since, you know, there are women in the army too. And a lot of men haven't served a day in their life, what the hell do I have to thank them for? (Here's an example: my dad used to be in the navy, submarine's captain actually, and every year when I congratulate him, he says something along the lines of "Why? There was no war conflict when I served". That's him being humble, but still, the point is there).

ANYWAY! We're not very big on celebrations of these two holidays, most of the time you just give a call to your respective male/female friends and relatives, give flowers to the ladies and just... enjoy your day off?

Next one is the May holidays. Those are usually on the 1-3 of May, the official name (as Wiki states) is "The Day of Spring and Labour". Honestly, no one uses it lol We just say "the first May holidays" (since we also have the second, that's how much we don't wanna work in May; kinda ironic the holiday is called "the day of labour").

You don't congratulate anyone on this day, usually you just have a couple of days off. If we're lucky, the weather would be nice and then people go to the countryside to have a (oh my god, this is gonna be a mouthful) SHASHLYKI. We'll get back to this thing, and you know why? Since if you want someone to embrace the real Russian culture, you would make them go to shashlyki, trust me.

The second May holiday is the Victory Day, and it's kinda... controversial in a way. It is a big celebration for the victory in World War II. Soviet Union suffered a lot during the war with the Nazi Germany, St. Petersburg was under the siege for more than TWO YEARS. And this holiday is both somber and happy since thanks to our ancestors we survived this hell and are now able to live in peace. The celebration is pretty big on official levels - there are military parades everywhere, concerts, people thank the war veterans (there are precious few of them left by now). When I was still in school, they made us visit those parades every year. Guess what? I've never been to a single parade since I graduated. It's not that I don't value the heroism of people who fought in WWII, it's that I think our government uses this holiday to brag how great we are (or, rather, THEY are), 'cause they haven't done anything worth of praise since 1945, which is... depressing, when you think of it. The ridiculous thing is the parade was canceled this year due to coronavirus, but GUESS WHAT? They've used BILLIONS OF DOLLARS to still have it on 24th of June. While the rate of people getting sick is still abnormally high. All because on the 1st of July we're having a vote on the constitution amendments and our government needs an extra boost in patriotism from our people (should I mention some of the amendments are homophobic? Yeah, it sucks).

Well... that was a rant completely offtopic lol. But, you know, this is the opinion of the most people below the age of 35. Also a huge problem here in Russia. Anyway, as I was saying. Used to be a really great holiday where we thanked the veterans and were reminded of the price they paid. Now it's just a sad excuse for the government to waste money sigh

So, a day off. Some fireworks, a hell lot of traffic problems due to parades. Not much else, if you're from the younger generation.

Same thing goes to the 12th of June. Officially a "Russia Day", but since up until the point I graduated from the uni I had summer holidays, I barely even acknowledged the holiday, cause I didn't have to study/work anyway. So like... I lived my whole life here in Russia, and I have no idea why we celebrate this holiday on the 12th of June. I can google it right now, but that kind of would contradict my point here lol.

The last one is on the 3-4 of November. I think it's called something like "Unity Day", but, again, no idea why. Most of the time we just call it "the November holidays" or even "fall holidays". Honestly, most of the time we just care about the days off, especially if the holiday is supposed to be "patriotic". (When I put it like this, we kinda sound like assholes. Probably cause we are lol).

Birthdays mainly depend on the specific person. I used to love my birthdays and it was a big holiday for me when I was a kid, but then I turned 18 and it kinda lost its charm. You still celebrate it, especially if the date is something like 30, 35, 40, 45 and so on. But it gets less and less exciting over the years. I gather my friends at home and just have drinks, my fiance goes to a bar on his birthday. Not very... celebratory, ya know?

So. YOI characters. ALL OF THEM would definitely celebrate New Year. They would probably send some congratulations on 23rd of February and 8th of March. It you think of the Russian rinkmates as friends, they can go the countryside together on the first May holidays, but not actually do anything on the Victory Day (Yakov may attend the parade since he’s from the older generation). Nothing specific to do on 12th of June or November holidays, most likely the rink would be closed, so, like, just a day off.

And now to the important stuff. SHASHLYKI. Oh my god guys, I’m so excited, cause this is one of those things that is AWESOME in Russian culture. And also makes most of the foreigners really confused. But it has some similarities with the American barbeque gatherings, I think.

First of all, many of us live in big cities (like I live in St. Petersburg for example), but we still have countryside houses. Sometimes it’s where our grandparents live, sometimes we buy it specifically. The thing is – we usually go to these places we call “dacha” to have some rest from the noise of the big city and enjoy the fresh air. Usually dachas have gardens, my mom is crazy about all this greenery stuff (I personally don’t see what’s the big deal with taking care of the plants, but I was told it comes with age ;D).

And to enjoy the experience even more we have shashlyki. It’s usually grilled meat (chicken, pork, whichever you prefer) and vegetables, but the process is what makes it really fun. Most families have their own recipes for marinated meat, you prepare it beforehand. Then, on the day, you make some snacks (salted pickles and fresh vegetables come to my mind immediately; pickles are like a must-have, it’s almost an obligatory food since it goes really well with vodka lol). While some of the people sit around the table, have drinks and catch up, there’s usually one person responsible for grilling meat. And this process is very important – it’s gotta be cooked on the brazier with actual flame (or, more like, coals). You put pieces of meat on a metallic skewer and then grill it (I think there’s the word “kebab”, but we usually use it to describe an entirely different meal, so, shashlyk it is). And let me tell you – having a freshly grilled shashlyk with some vegetables and a drink like wine (or vodka if you’re into it) is the best feeling in the world.

So you’re enjoying the fresh air, really tasty meal, have some drinks with family or/and friends. A pretty common thing (not for everyone, but I personally love it) is having someone play the guitar and sing songs around the campfire. The songs we sing are usually either stupid or old, and you would never just casually listen to those on your own, but when the time comes and you sit with the guitar, somehow EVERYONE knows the lyrics. The point is to have fun, not make a concert out of it :)

I actually think that Victor and the rest of the gang would at least try to give Yuuri (and other non-Russians, who knows) this kind of experience. I also headcanon someone (Otabek or maybe Victor himself) knowing how to play the guitar. But I wouldn’t trust Victor with the grilling, honestly, it requires a lot of attention, and… well… you all know what Victor is like ;D

And since we’re on the topic of music, let’s discuss it. Me and a dear friend of mine @clarie-foster, who also happens to be both Russian and a YOI fan, had a lot of headcanons on this.

What you need to know, is when it comes to music, here in Russia we’re pretty flexible. The popular music is the one you can here everywhere, it’s on European and American charts, like, I dunno, Beyonce, Ed Sheeran, Gaga etc. There’s Russian pop-music and, honestly, it sucks lol. Most of the time I listen to it cause it’s dumb and catchy. There are some good artists, of course, I can throw you a couple of name bands like “Ночные Снайперы”, “Сплин”, “Би-2”, but the songs are in Russian, and although the lyrics are pretty damn good, they’re kinda hard to understand if you don’t know the language (I mean, just reading the translation won’t give you the whole experience). And those bands are… depressing? In a way? Not that the songs are extremely dark or something, but you kind of listen to those in a melancholic mood. Me and one of my best friends used to go out on the balcony in summer, sit wrapped in a blanket and listen to those songs. Great experience, if a little sad.

BUT. There’s the old pop-music. We have some of those artists, who were really popular when my parents were young and somehow still popular these days. Their music is honestly average – the tunes might be catchy, the lyrics are mediocre at best, but… when you have a little bit to drink, you get in that mood, where you start singing those old pop-songs. And it’s not like listening to ABBA or, I don’t know, A-ha, since those are classic and still good these days. Russian pop-songs SUCK, they’re horrible, but somehow that is the best kind of music when you’re drunk.

I personally think Victor is one of those people who would totally jam to the old Russian pop. It’s funny, since most of it is from female singers (There’s literally a song from a Russian singer Irina Allegrova called “Go crazy, wild empress”, no kidding). I just can picture him so clearly being drunk and singing those old songs with abandon lol.

Mila would probably join him while laughing hysterically. Georgi too, since he’s a drama queen. And Yuri would make all kinds of disgusted faces.

Two facts which I have never seen being mentioned in fanfiction, which is really weird. So Victor lives in St. Petersburg, as we all saw from those last scenes in the anime (in the background you can see actual places from St. P like our sports stadium). And St. Petersburg is mostly known for two things: bridges and white nights.

WHITE NIGHTS OH MY GOD. I don’t want to go to deep into the details since I don’t really understand the nature of this thing (something to do with sun not really going down? I dunno), but in summer, especially in June and July it basically doesn’t get dark in St. Petersburg. I mean, the sun does go down, you can see the sunset and everything, but the sky stays like… white-grey, almost as though it’s midday, just cloudy. Like we’re in the middle of white nights right now, and the darkest hour is around 1 am, but even then it doesn’t really get dark at all. A lot of people from other cities and countries get confused by it, like, there was this time when Stephen Colbert was a guest on a Russian talk-show and he had a hilarious convo with the host. It was something like this: “So I’ve been in St. Petersburg for one day. It has lasted for 46 hours. Please tell me if the sun will ever go down, ‘cause I’m going crazy”.

For us common people white nights can get really annoying, if your curtains are not black-out, you can have a hard time falling asleep (since, you know, it’s too freaking bright outside). But it’s actually really great for late-night walks and is considered really romantic.

And, speaking of romantic, the bridges! What’s so special about those, you’d think. So St. Petersburg is built on the river Neva – it’s like really big, has a lot of tributaries and distributaries and flows through the whole city. Hence why we have tons of bridges.

And those bridges are drawing bridges, meaning they are separated in the middle by a special mechanism and are being lifted in the air so that the trade ships can pass underneath them. The most impressive one is the Palace Bridge – it’s one of the main sightseeing spots in the city. For most tourists it’s obligatory to visit St. Petersburg and see the drawing of the Palace Bridge. It happens at night, around the time of 1 am or 2 am. It’s really pretty, cause there are lights everywhere, you can see the ships passing by and the view of this huge structure being lifted in the air is really magnificent. Combine it with the white nights and you’ll have one of the most romantic dates you can have here in Russia.

(On the more realistic and depressing note: despite the drawing of the bridges being really beautiful, it’s SUCH a pain in the ass for the regular people. Like, because of the drawing you can’t really get from one side of the city to another. For example, I live in the northern part and if for some reason I couldn’t get to it from the center of the city before the drawing of the bridges, I’m stuck till like 4 or 5 am. Subway only opens at 6 am, and although we have a couple of bridges which never draw, those are on the outskirts of the city, so taking an uber and driving there would cost you a lot of money and also would take like and extra hour or so. Thankfully, the drawing of the bridges lasts only from April to October-November, while the ship navigation on the Neva river is possible).

Last, but not least, SOCIAL MEDIA.

So, like, Instagram is pretty popular in Russia and so is Twitter. But what people rarely mention is our own social media site – Vkontakte (www.vk.com, if you’re interested). It started to become popular in like… 2008, I think? Basically it used to be and knock-off from Facebook, even the color scheme is the same. It became more and more popular over the years, since Facebook was never really a thing in Russia (like, I had a profile there, but I’ve never used it). Now it’s like… if you don’t have a VK profile, it’s super weird lol. I communicate with most of my friends through it, since it has a lot of really cool features: chats, group chats, communities, music, videos and photos. It’s gotten so big that VK even hosts its own music festival each year with a lot of popular Russian artists.

Victor is a social butterfly, so he would definitely have a VK profile. So would Mila, Yuri and Georgi, I personally think most of their communication would be through it. Maybe they would even force Yuuri to create a profile, but he’s not really into social media much, so he wouldn’t really use it.

I think that’s it for now. Like I said, if you have any questions, feel free to ask, I would be happy to answer! ;)

#yoi #yuri on ice #yuuri on ice #victor nikiforov #viktor nikirofov #yuuri katsuki #victuuri #viktuuri #yuri plisetsky #mila babicheva #georgi popovich #and all this russia-related stuff

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owlsbride · 3 years

Photo

Blinding Lights.

Chapter II

She No Longer Heard the Music.

Is it cruel or kind Not to speak my mind And to lie to you Rather than hurt you Well, I'll confess all of my sins After several large gins But still I'll hide from you Hide what's inside from you I no longer hear the music

Sakura glanced at the clock hanging on the white wall of her office at Konoha hospital and discovered with feigned amazement that she had been working there since 11 pm from the day before. At which point 20 and a half hours had passed, no one could tell, much less her. She remembered that the day before around 8 o'clock she had stopped by the office of the new Hokage to leave him the reports of the previous shift, and after a small talk, she had quickly retired to the hospital to fulfil with excellence one of the last orders that Tsunade had imposed before resigning her position: Co running Konoha Central Hospital together with Shizune. And speaking of Shizune, where could she be now? Sakura looked at the clock again and sighed. Surely her Senpai would already be at home resting. She would have retired hours ago after warning her leaving for the day, asking the young nin doctor if she needed anything and recommending that she should rest too. Sakura already knew the routine by heart: she would simply dismiss any question from Shizune by waving her hand in denial, or she would have pretended not to listen to her Senpai and continued working, as usual, that inhuman amount of overtime. Shizune would have just sighed and after one last tired look, would leave the medical facilities until the next day, leaving Sakura to her own. Sakura felt comfortable in her hospital, she knew it like the back of her hand and every corner, no matter which one, it was like being in her own home. Not that she didn't have a home for her own, well, yes, yes she had, and a very comfortable one by the way, but she felt a lot better when working either in the ICU, the rooms, the laboratory or her office. She did not hate her own house, but she preferred to arrive there once she had finished all her duties. Exhaustion taking over her body and mind so that she could simply enter her comfortable apartment to take a shower and fall on her bed and finally sleep as deep as possible in the most dreamless dream, so she wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night or the day depending on the worked shift. Sakura shook her head coming back to reality once more reading the records of the day, those that she would have to leave to the Lord Sixth at some point in the afternoon which means today she would be forced to leave the hospital shortly. It was 8 pm, if her math didn't fail her if she finished her work around 9, she could find Kakashi on his way to his own home, and at that moment she would deliver the papers. The oral report should be left for tomorrow and knowing her former sensei as she did, that would not be a problem. Kakashi had proven to be a better Hokage than anyone would have ever thought; still, old habits die hard: working more than necessary in bureaucratic matters was not in his nature, less now in these times of peace, so different from those that they had faced so many years ago. So many years ago. Had there really been so many? Yes, they had been, but they had passed quickly. In the blink of an eye, Sakura had gone from being a wayward 13-year-old girl starting her shinobi path to becoming a 25-year-old woman. A direct disciple of Tsunade, a Nin doctor, a great Kunoichi and a promise for Konoha medicine. Her professional life was settled for at least the next 15 years, and she was delighted with it. Even more now that the wars fought in the past had given way to brighter times for the new generations that slowly began to repopulate the village. There were already more births that were attended in the hospital than the fatal cases produced on the battlefields. Of course, people kept dying, that was inevitable, but it was one thing to lose shinobis and villagers due to natural causes and quite another to do it due to the horrors of war. Even so, Sakura, daughter of fire, anger, and convulsed times never let her guard down and was always attentive to a new outbreak of violence. Maybe it was a way of staying attached to a past that made her feel much more supported and contained, but prevention was never too much. The sun could shine brightly now, but no one would never know when a storm could come to sweep away everything built since then. Sakura was satisfied. Satisfied. No, not happy. Satisfied. She knew she was settling for little, but that's how the last few years had been. It's been said that in life one can't have everything and that's why it is better to settle for what at least in some way can go well, so that's exactly what she did. Sakura always considered herself as a woman with will and power, but on more than one time, the lack of self-confidence had led her down dark paths that she didn't even want to think about. However, it was not only her who thought so. She had heard the rumours about her. Since she was a girl, Sakura felt that she didn't fit in. She had grown up in a typical and wealthy home. Unlike the team 7 she had had the possibility of growing up surrounded by the love of her mother and father, she had not suffered the losses that Naruto, Kakashi or Sasuke suffered which at times she almost romanticized. She knew that as an only daughter, she had been the object of her parents' devotion and focus of all their attention, which turned her into a spoiled child. It is true that she was weaker than the others and that she also cried often, but it was also true, and no one could deny that when the time came, the change she had made to become stronger had been radical. She would never be left behind again, and yet the gossip continued. She had even heard them come out of her best friend Ino's mouth. What could Sakura know about the life of a Kunoichi when it was the closest to perfection. Ino had lost her father in the fourth war just like Hinata and Tenten lost Neji. Shikamaru had lost his father. Temari had grown up without the love of her parents like Naruto and Sasuke. Sakura was far from being able to empathize with his two teachers, how she could understand Kakashi's feelings or Tsunade's resilience when losing not only her brother but also her lover and later Jiraiya. For Ino, the most significant loss Sakura had ever suffered was her long pink hair that time as a child. What Ino didn't know is that each of those losses that didn't belong directly to Sakura, they did indirectly. Sakura loved each of her friends intensely and from the depths of her being. Each tear, each pain of any of them was her own in her skin blood and bones. She suffered with them and for them in silence, and that silence hurt more than anything. That is why she had decided to be a doctor, so as not to see anyone else ache again, and if somebody had to do it, after all, better to be her, because deep down she was strong, and she would be even more for others. Silence. That silence was slowly killing her. She was slowly sinking into loneliness and apathy. Ino would always be her best friend no matter what the blonde could say about her with a few too many drinks or for the simple fact of wanting to stand out as she had always been. The rest of the boys would be her family forever, and she would accompany them in every important step they took in this new adult life they faced. They all grew so much, they were even starting their own families. Even Naruto had overcome his unconditional love towards her, and now Hinata was the light in his eyes. Maybe Sakura should have paid more attention to him when she was a child, perhaps if she had tried to fall in love with the self-proclaimed future Hokage, today she would be happy. What Naruto wouldn't have done for her? However, she had always been in love with Sasuke. From the first day she had seen him in the academy, from the first second, and for a moment she thought they could have their happy ending, after the fourth war, revenge, repentance and tears, peace appeared. Sakura believed then that love was enough for everything and she had tried. Sakura and Sasuke finally began their love story. Sakura was ecstatic, and at first, she thought she had everything she had ever proposed. She would form a family with the last of the Uchiha and reestablish the clan, they would have many children who would exalt the surname once more. Children who grew up strong like Sasuke and sweet and determined like Sakura. However, the happiness that Sakura thought she had were nothing more than projections of her wishes. Sasuke was rarely in the village, and when he did, the distance between them was enormous even though neither of them said so. A devious routine that hurt more than any kunai. At night Sasuke and Sakura could love each other intensely for a couple of hours, even talk to each other about their days or their wishes. Sasuke would sleep wrapped in nightmares and night fears while Sakura would watch over those dreams trying to provide comfort to her lover, caressing his forehead, whispering comforting words in his sleeping ears, Sakura would spend hours without sleeping, and when the morning arrived, after having breakfast together they would go their own way without much to say to each other. And so over the years, Sakura realized that she no longer heard the music. All those melodies of love, dreams of illusion vanished, and she quickly began to feel nothing for Sasuke. They had nothing in common, and the truth struck her like a thunderbolt: they were together out of habit, fear and anxiety. She had to finish everything as soon as possible to stop the spiral of wounds that a relationship like this left, however, her heart and nobility played a trick on her. Sakura felt that she could not abandon Sasuke, that he could not suffer another loss and despite losing her own happiness, she had to sacrifice herself to achieve the mental and emotional well-being of her loved one. That's what she was for, that's what a woman was for. she wouldn't be as cruel as the world was when Sasuke was little. She could save him even if no one saved her. And so, without much and without anyone noticing, Sakura became a ghost, the shadow of herself. More and more silence, more and more loneliness and more fake smiles. She was lost again as she was when she was a child. And one day Sakura's world stopped. She should have seen the signs. That night Sasuke and Sakura had sex, the most intense and intimate sex they had ever have. Long hours of love and pleasure till they both fall asleep. In the morning Sakura looked for Sasuke by her side, but he was gone. On the bedside table was a letter that was written in the neater handwriting she had ever seen, and she didn't need to open it. Sasuke had left and would not return. Sakura was relieved and scared of her own feelings, but it was better this way. Both would go their own way and would have to discover who they really were for the first time. Sakura had a new chance. And with this new chance in hands, she devoted her life to the hospital and to others. Yes. She was satisfied. Sakura began to gather her things and put together the folder that would present to her Hokage in just a few moments. She smiled to herself at the thought of him: his languid figure with his false hunched posture, the smile behind the mask, maybe the white robe slung over one shoulder in case he had felt too lazy to take it off and leave it in the office and his hands in his pockets. Kakashi was a mystery; however, those little glimpses of his gestures Sakura knew them perfectly. She had known Kakashi since she was 13 years old and since then he had perhaps been the only person who had stayed closest to her in all this time. Ever since her sensei had assured her and her teammates that he would protect them with his life on their first mission against Zabuza, even if it was a clone talking, even if it was a strategy, she knew then that he was serious. She also knew back then that she was at his feet. She was a child then, she was impressed with Kakashi, even hating sometimes his antics. She wasn't in love with her sensei, she didn't have a crush on him; then, it was just pure admiration and respect. She used to felt secure around him, and so she did through all these years: during missions, in the war and now that he was in charge of all the people of Konoha. Kakashi loved Konoha as much as she did, and that made her respect him even more. He had never turned his back on his people, despite everything he had ever had to go through, he always remained true to his principles and had never become a monster to fear. So far away was Kakashi from Sasuke in the end, those who might once have looked alike, today proved to be totally different. Sakura could trust in Kakashi. No matter how many vague answers he gave to her tireless questions, how many evasions he invented so as not to talk about himself, or how many times she wondered if there was ever a genuine smile underneath that mask, in the end, Kakashi was always loyal, faithful and honest. Sakura admired his joviality. The man remained the same as when she had met him, he seemed not to have aged a year, while she had aged all together. How many years separate them? Thirteen, maybe fourteen, and yet at times, she seemed even older than him. She had to ask him the secret of youth. Saying that Kakashi was attractive was a no-brainer. Everyone knew it, she knew it, even without seeing his face. She knew or thought she knew that under the mask was one of the most beautiful faces of Konoha, however, perhaps because of the secrets it hid, Sakura felt that her Hokage looked even more attractive like that. It was not necessary to speak of his body. Kakashi was an elite shinobi, his body had been shaped for that so he could be a killing machine, however, he also may look like a rag doll sometimes. Sakura knew a large part of his thanks to the number of times she had healed his wounds as a doctor, and she had seen many other men as well, but the former Copy Ninja had a different complexion from the others. While most of the shinobis looked either too thin or too formed, Kakashi was the balance between the two. Long legs, narrow waist, a flat abdomen, broad shoulders. Yes, Hatake Kakashi was the closest thing to perfection Sakura knew that any woman who could have him for herself would be lucky in more ways than one and she was jealous just imagining it. Sakura blushed from just analyzing her thoughts since when had she started observing her sensei like this? She almost chastity herself and force her mind to change the course of her thoughts. Not everything was beauty and light in the Hokage, and that Sakura could see it too. Behind all that carefree facade, the tired looks and mischievous smiles, she also saw loneliness. Whole hours spent in an office to which he had no attachments and a home to return to where he could only find his dogs if they were invoked. She wondered what was going through Kakashi's mind. Was he still missing Rin? Would he have overcome Obito's loss, this time for good and the Sharingan as well? Kakashi was a man of action, Sakura felt that even in times of peace, he would miss the din of missions, a battle, the fire and the anxiety of not knowing what would happen next. Sakura sighed. In the end, Kakashi was more like her than she could have ever imagined. They both clung to a dark past, a present that offered only apathetic calm and a future full of promises of lonely stability. Sakura felt her heartache for both of them, but even more for Kakashi. Once again, her mind and soul were trying to heal somebody else before herself, but she couldn't help it. Thinking of Kakashi filled Sakura with a warmth in her body that she hadn't felt in a long time. It wasn't just physical attraction. It wasn't about wanting to spend a night with Konoha's most coveted ninja. No. Sakura wanted to share her sorrows along with his. She wanted to touch his hand and reassure them both that everything would be fine. She craved to talk to him for hours, contemplate the stars with him, gaze at his profile, laugh at his silly jokes, and get mad at his ridiculous excuses. Suddenly Sakura wanted everything from Kakashi, she desired to know him as he really was. She wanted to remove him from the pedestal she had once put him on and make him human, re-meeting him as what they were now: two adults. Sakura took her things and went out determined to meet the Hokage. She would give him the reports and see what happened next. She would invite him to dinner just for the sake of being courteous and talking to him. Just to know what his answer would be. Even if it were a no, which she supposed would happen, she would begin her attempts to get closer to him and know if he wanted to get closer to her. She didn't care what kind of relationship they could strike up. She wasn't expecting anything, just hearing his voice, even his rejection. Maybe that's how Sakura could felt something again, even if it was just pain.

If you want to read the first part you can ask for the link to AO3, or scroll down to find it here. Third part on it’s way. Hope you all like it. The song belongs to The Libertines: Music When the Lights Go Out, and Naruto, doesn’t belong to me, obviously.

#fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi hokage #Kakashi #kakasaku #haruno sakura #sakura #naruto verse #naruto #AO3 fanfic #read on ao3 #kakashi hatake #read #review #follow 👑 Share ❤️ Enjoy 🍑#share #coment

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tetsuwan-atom · 3 years

Text

Holy Grail War - Unraveling

(So, this is basically something I’ve been meaning to write for weeks. It’s in a specific verse about a specific event that had unfolded, that was plotted out between a few people. I have decided to give this event a bit of a ‘conclusion’ from the perspective of my muse and canon, to show how the story could have gone, how it could have ended.)

~~~~~~~~~~~

It really was like hell.

It looked like it, felt like it, like this was the most evil place, in all of existence.

Another dimension, another world but not at the same time. An experience that would burn into the retinas forever. A world in a world, like you had stepped into the end of it all.

And it really did seem like it was the end, of it all.

You never expected the Holy Grail to look like this. A beacon of such evil, of apocalyptic catastrophe. The very symbol that brought such chaos, time and time again, feeding upon the greed, the selfishness, of those who sought to use it to it’s truest potential.

But this individual wasn’t here for that.

This person had fought through the war. He had faced countless forces, foes, enemies. How many had to die? How many brought no other option to him, despite his attempts to make it out of the war without bloodshed?

A wishful outcome, that was doomed to perish.

The many he did save, those who joined him on the cause. Those he had to leave behind at the very end. Despite the pleas of those who tried to remain, he knew, he had to take care of this himself.

Because, there can only be one.

And here he stood. He stared evil right in the face, like it was his destiny to face this. There could have been others that would have taken his place, the sibling princesses, the spiky haired schoolboy, the Sorceress Supreme, but in the end he took his objective right to this moment.

He knew he had to take care of this himself.

Bowen Chuuno, The Mighty Atom.

He stared at the embodiment of the Holy Grail. He knew of it’s power, it’s energy, it’s deceit. How it calls out to him even now to turn back on all of his goals and make a wish he so deemed to come right from the heart.

But he knew better than to give in.

Hands gripped his IDND, a step forward in stance. He’s ready. He’s about to take the matters into his own.

To put an end to this.

For goo-

“Oh! There you are!”

Eyes widen in surprise. The male hesitates, stops, lowers his device. He’s not alone after all.

There is someone else here.

A voice, he recognises. A man he knows.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Adachi Shiro.

A supposed detective of the National Police Agency, sent to Academy City to investigate the concerns that were happening literally during the time of the Holy Grail War. A very strange coincidence. One that the male took with quite a bit of suspicion at that, despite his cheerful character.

He only turned his head, to the man in question.

“What are you doing here, Adachi? How did you get in?”

“What do you mean? I just walked through. I was asking your friends where you were and they pointed me here. I gotta admit they were all acting strange. They didn’t want to let me pass, but I needed to see you. They can’t just interfere with police business like that.”

Adachi had been Bowen’s ‘sidekick’ throughout the war. Of course Bowen couldn’t hide it from him when the fighting started getting bad. Even he knew better than to lie to a cop.

“I’m busy. What you require of me can wa-.”

“Hey.” The man interjected. “Is this the ‘grail’ you’ve been looking for? Kinda looks odd for a piece of metal, doesn’t it?”

In case your wondering, yes, this man does get on Bowen’s nerves... especially right now, though he knew to remain calm.

“...........Yes. This... is the Holy Grail.”

“Aahhhhhhhh! Well done! I knew you would be the one to make it! Them bad guys got nothing on you, huh?”

His smile is just... why does it irritate him so much?

“...I guess...”

“So, what you going to do, huh? You said it grants a wish, right? I bet you planned this right from the very beginning, what you wanted out of it. I can’t believe I’m here to witness a man’s dream finally being granted!”

“I’m not going to give it a wish, Adachi.”

“You’re... not?” He looks surprised, for sure. “But you came all this way. I was there as you kicked those guys butts for the good of the world. Why would you come all this way if you weren’t going to make a wish? Weren’t you going to do something for mankind? Weren’t you going to save it?”

Bowen hadn’t told Adachi of his intentions, because he didn’t feel the man needed to know. But now, right at the last moment, when he couldn’t hide it anymore, there was no reason to lie.

“I am going to do something for mankind, I am going to save it.....”

The blonde grips his IDND, as if readying himself a second time.

“....By destroying the grail for good..”

“....”

There was this... pause. A silence, an awkward silence. How long did it last for? Probably a good ten, fifteen seconds, before some form of response was found from the arrival.

“Hmmmmmhmhmhmhmhm...”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!”

...That was an unexpected reaction, one which actually brought the blonde to turn around and face the other, still serious, but with confusion now mixed into his features.

Why the hell was Adachi... laughing?

“You, you really think I’d actually let you destroy this artifact of grand power?!?”

“What... are you on about?”

“Come now. You’ve got a good brain, you can figure this all out. Am I really a cop? Why did I actually hang around you of all people while this shit was going down, huh?”

“......”

”You know. I found it really weird that you showed up out of nowhere right at the start of the war. Then when things started heating up you reeeeallly didn’t act like I’d expect out of a cop. It was like you weren’t too caring when people were driven to death. You were also acting very strange when certain things were going on. I had a feeling you were in this war all along.”

There was this pause, but in that moment, the expression on Adachi’s face began to change... no his FACE began to change. It turned.. paler... in colour.. and his eyes.. they were turning yellow. A sort of... sickly... unsettling yellow.

“....”

“Well it doesn’t matter in the end, does it? I got exactly what I wanted. I played you to ensure you were the one at the very end. Nobody else could match up to you anyway.”

“...What do you mean?”

“Don’t play coy with me! You know exactly why. Your reputation precedes you far more than what you understand about it! While everybody else was distracted I kept my eye on the real threat. They were so worried about that dumb boy and that girl.. and then the others. They were all so useless. ”

The man then begins to circle the blonde, in conversation.

“Right at the beginning my eyes were on you. But it was quite a ride, wasn’t it? You were so good at minimising the work we had to do, putting people on side, finding some way to drop them from the war without killing them. But man everybody was making it hard, wasn’t it? I almost took advantage of that situation when the lucky kid got sent away. Can you believe it, a fake marriage just for the war! I knew it meant shit at the end of the day. More people, more mess, a whole Kingdom trying to get in on the war, those two princesses asserting their dominance. Remember how you reacted at first? You didn’t like them intruding, didn’t you?”

“...I don’t like getting others involved. But they were here for the same goal. As long as the initial plan was followed there wouldn’t be any problems.”

“But the younger one was such a real bitch about it! Making it out that it wasn’t all about you. You didn’t want to be playing second fiddle as others meddled in your objective... I can relate, for they were meddling, in MY affairs!”

“I had to take a breather after all that. I left Academy City for a bit while you cleaned up the trash. Some ‘fighter’ chick caught me talking to myself one day. I tried to downplay it cause I didn’t want more people coming into it but.. the stupid bitch nearly got sucked into it! It would have been soooo funny, seeing a tourney fighter getting wrecked by some loaded-ass Servant! More junk for the janitors to mop up!”

“But then too... I was laughing at the beginning. You got paired with Stacia Sequenzia! An ‘Atomite’ helping another Atomite! The irony there is laughable! You even tried to put her on the sidelines too, but you know, Servants are there to help their masters! I wonder if you ever had to perform a Mana Transfer on her!”

A laugh escaped the man. He wasn’t looking for an actual answer.

“Then there was that guy who just muscled in just to fight everyone, he wasn’t even IN the war. What a waste of fuckin’ time. And the Makiris, the Einsworths. Those fools were all bickering and bitching and making a mess of things. I nearly lost my cover when the war was to move to England.. but I got to pull some... strings and keep it here where I wanted. They were all so concerned about the lucky kid. I was ‘lucky’ I didn’t get to see Violent Violet or that Crowley moron come around to the war. I got to focus my efforts on you while the families shat on about their supposed ‘vessel’.”

“...Vessel... you mean... Index?”

“You dumb piece of shit. Index. Please. Everyone looks at her like she’s a fucking meal. No. She is not their ‘vessel’. Come on, think. Think reeealll hard. Do you remember a girl that the idiot took under his wing?”

“Her... you mean.. Akatsuki Miyuki?!”

“Mmm! Strange isn’t it? They were going to use her as a vessel. Too bad it wouldn’t have worked. I wasn’t interested. I don’t give a shit about humans and homunculi anymore. None of them lived up to my expectations. I wouldn’t have even used your girl either. No, I only had one person on my mind. I got what I wanted in the end, didn’t I?”

“....That’s... me... isn’t it?”

“Oh. No duh, what do you think? Of course I mean you. The Mighty Atom! The one with the power to change it all! It had to be you. The boy would have just been a candy bar. Those two princesses? I would have just killed them the moment they tried to walk through into my space! It was ME that made you an initial participant, it was ME that got you through right until the end. I knew you weren’t going to risk the suffering of those around you because maybe deep down you knew it had to be you, that anyone else would have died one way or another. They all underestimate my power... even those influenced by gods.. but not you. You knew what I can do... you knew it had to be you.”

“....But then... what are you... if you wanted so much.. out of me?”

“...Do I need to spell it out for you, boy? I AM the Holy Grail!”

That.. that was a bombshell.. he didn’t see that coming at all.

“...Y..you...”

“Yes. Me. But I’m rather an extension of the beast, allowed to roam in a body that people could lower their guard around. Nobody ever expected the beast would grow intelligent, to form a mind of it’s own. I’ve seen it, I’ve seen how greedy and malicious humans can get, for peace and for power. I was never surprised by how much they wanted to take over everything for themselves... I always enjoyed it when they were the ones losing right at the end. And then there’s those that want a ‘utopia’, but still kill, still maim, like any life is a sacrifice for the good of others. And then I kill and maim them, an eye for an eye, along with many many others. I loved playing on their wishes, lulling them in, bringing out their true nature, leaving them vulnerable right at the moment I strike! In the end they all get absorbed... ready for the next war. But.... no matter how powerful they are, it’s never... ever enough..”

“I’m bored of this game, this charade. I’m sick and tired of prancing around in a shit body. It’s still fun to prey on the gullible but, I have always yearned for something far... far greater. What I am... what I really, really am, they never suspect what I can really, really do, what they were playing with from the start. The power they were using. They thought they could play god... for their sick, twisted gains! Through their sick, twisted means!”

“But now I’m actually going to become one... thanks to you.. I’m going to be born, properly born! I’m going to burst forth as the being I should have become in the very beginning. Humanity will crumble as I consume anything and everything. Mark my words this will be the last Grail War because of you. You soul will be used to complete the process... it will make me... me! There was truly no vessel greater than you! Even now I’ve been slowly draining your energy away to grow, to develop... oh isn’t this exciting! You’re going to be a part of multi-universal history, the end of everything! Nobody will get in my way! Your power will make everything happen at once! You, responsible for the end of it all. The beginning and the end, death for life, the rise and the fall! Everybody shall die, your friend, your girl, your family, everything and everyone... and you will be the sacrifice that starts it all! It’s inevitable, boy. You cannot fight what has already happened, what was lead to happen. The game of cat and mouse is over. This is your fate. This is my fate. The less you struggle.. the easier it will be, for both of us!”

...Boy... this was a lot to take in. A LOT to take in.. and he didn’t even have the time to process it all, not when he was actually being affected right now. Inhale, exhale, carefully, gently. Remain composed.. then face the man head on.

“Adachi.”

"You know, as well as I do, I'm not going to willingly give in to you and just let this happen. You know what I am, what I do.. and what I'm going to be doing right here, right now. Your words have further influenced me in the belief that the Grail must be destroyed. And it will be destroyed. I made that promise to everyone, to Camellia, to Academy City, to my world, to Touma... to my beloved. I had an inkling I might have been targeted, that if I wasn't the one doing it, I'd be made to do it. I always had this feeling in the back of my mind that if I let others try ahead of me that they were only going to die in the end... turns out I was right."

His eyes began to glow. The usual process, close the eyes, then open them with sparks flying.

"So rather than causing more death, rather than beating around the bush, I'm going to take the matters as I was always planning to do. This was always my fight, because I was always the target. You wanted me. You have me... but man I'm not going to give up until I have no breath left. I have done so much for the multiverse, for Academy City. I never thought I'd be in a position where it all hinged in the balance like this. I know the stakes... I know what I must do. Whatever it takes, you will be destroyed for good, so that nobody can use you... so that you... can no longer use anybody. I won't let you live. I will not bring your birth. If I have to erase your very soul and existence to end this, then so be it."

“.... Well, so much for making this easy. I had a feeling your resolve was too great to kneel before me. No matter..”

“....But then there is no harm in having one last bit of fun before the next stage of life! And it would be better to wear down your.. rambunctiousness to make it easier for me to devour. Do not underestimate me... either way.. this.. will be your end!”

...And as the darkness swelled, the blonde readied his IDND again, at the man, at the embodiment of the Holy Grail. If this was to be his final fight, so be it.

This... would be the very fight that decides the fate of everything.

Of Academy City, of the multiverse, of everything.

So it shall be.

Game on.......

#DRABBLE #rebirthtxstamentproject #whitecrownsblackthrones #Kinoverse!Bowen #This is the leadup drabble #I don't think I'll write the actual fight scene but #I know I have the ending scene all planned out.#I've had this in my head for AGES #and it would have been better if the original chunk didn't get EATEN #but anyway here we are!#Adachi Shiro : Metropolitan Wolf

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petri808 · 4 years

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Red Strings Cannot Be Broken

@yatoriweek2020 Soulmates prompt. Gomen, gomen, it’s totally rushed and I since I suck at action scenes, fair warning it’s minimized as much as possible lol and I can’t help but think angst when I write this ship ;-; Aged up, Hiyori is 19. Total idk canon divergence.

Just as Yato, Bishamon and their Shinki’s reach the scene, Father cackles and drives a katana through Hiyori’s corporeal body. “You’re all such gullible idiots! She was always your weakness son. Three years we’ve done this dance and I was always one step ahead.”

The young woman stumbles backwards and collapses, holding onto her stomach. A reddish stain forming, seeping through the fabric and growing in diameter every second that passes by.

“So now what are ya gonna do?” the grinning sorcerer questions. “For betraying me, I will take away everything you love!”

“You sonofabitch!” The stray god screams and makes a move to rush forward.

“There’s no hope for her, see.” The man points the sword back at the dying girl with a menacing smiles. “Poor girl, if only she hadn’t met you.”

“Yato,” Bishamon yells as she takes off towards Father. “You get to Hiyori!”

A battle ensues between the goddess of war and the sorcerer as Yato rushes to the young girls side. He picks her up, cradling her body in tears. “Hiyori, don’t die on me, please!” But it really was too late, for her breathing had ceased and he could find no pulse. “Fuck!!!”

“Yato what are we gonna do?!” Yukine shakes him. “W-We can’t let her just die!” The poor boy was still in agony over his time of betraying the stray god and now the guilt of losing Hiyori was slowly taking hold. Nora stays quiet, hugging to the boy to keep him from doing anything rash.

“There’s only one thing I can think of…” the man mumbles. As the fight around them escalates, the pair watch a puffkine appear above the body.

Reading off his master, Yukine’s eyes widen. “I-Is that a good idea?!”

“I don’t know.” Her soul didn’t appear as an ayakashi, so that was a promising sign. Yato places her body back on the ground and stands before the floating spirit. There was no way to know for sure what would happen and no time to think it through. Performing his spell, he turns her into a regalia, but instead of giving her his family name of ne, keeps the human name Hiyori and makes her vessel name Majoki.

They watch as the woman they knew as Hiyori manifests, standing before them. “W-Where am I?” She questions the trio. “Who are you?”

Yato grabs hold of her by the arms to keep her from turning around and seeing her body too soon. He smiles. “I know this must be confusing right now, but I just want to tell you before it’s too late…” he leans his forehead against hers and closes his eyes. “I love you Hiyori. Soon I pray, it’ll all make sense again, but just remember I love you.” He whispers something the others two couldn’t hear, then pulls away and kisses her hand before releasing them.

He then turns to his Shinki. “Nora, make her see,” is all he quietly says, indicating to the girl to break the seal of the Gods greatest secret.

“But Yato, that might destroy her.”

“I pray it won’t. Please keep her safe for me Nora.” He places a final kiss on Hiyori’s confused cheek. “Come Sekki, we must finish Father right here and now before he does any more damage.”

Yukine transforms into a sword and the pair rush off to assist Bishamon. The boy asks Yato what he’d told Hiyori before they’d left and the God simply answered with, ‘remember me.’ But there was no time to question further. They needed to focus for Father was as skilled as any of them and a powerful sorcerer that could conjure and control ayakashi to attack them. This would be a fight to the death, either theirs or his.

Nora pulls Hiyori away behind some trees, and away from the current fighting. She hesitates for a moment unsure of exactly how to accomplish her task. As Chiki, she could wield the liberation spell that broke the secret, but without it, she would have to trigger it. The strange part was, normally telling a Shinki their true name would do just that, but Yato had given the woman back her real name and it didn’t do anything. Hiyori just appeared to have no memories of her past life.

“Do you have any idea who I am?” Nora questions, but receives a ‘no’. “How about Yato, the one who just spoke to you?” Again, the woman pauses, then shakes her head slowly no. “Yukine? The boy?” Nothing.

“That man… that man said he loves me. He sounds sincere, but I don’t remember anything. Were we in a relationship?”

“Sort of. You’ve been together for I think 3 years now. Inseparable, and you loved him too.”

“I did?”

Nora nods her head. “You… you died trying to save him.”

Hiyori’s eyes widen at those words. She was dead?! “I’m dead?!” Her hands fly up to her head, palms flattened against the sides as a suddenly whirling sound rustles in her brain. The noise grew, a myriad of voices, images hurtling through her mind so quickly, she couldn’t process what was happening to her. “No, no, no!”

The young girl grabs hold of the woman’s arms to keep her steady as she starts to shake uncontrollably. “Your name really is Hiyori. Hiyori Iki. You saved the god Yato once from getting hit by a bus and it turned you into a hanyou. After that you two became inseparable. You were with him when you found Yukine.”

“I don’t understand any of this!” Tears pour down the woman’s face. She was utterly confused at what this girl was telling her and yet somehow knew it was all true. How did she know it was true?!

It was a good sign to Nora that Hiyori wasn’t transforming into an ayakashi yet, but as the woman’s mind fought to unlock the secrets of her life, the pain appeared to be excruciating and the risks of being consumed were great. When she herself had learned the truth about her life, for some strange reason it never affected her and that was why she could wield liberation. Yukine too surprisingly had come through the process without completely breaking down.

“Over time, you and Yato grew closer and closer, and you helped him a lot. I believe it’s because of you that he’s completely changed for the better. You and Yukine are his family. Father, the guy they’re fighting now, he’s trying to destroy it all and he killed you because he knew your death could kill Yato too. But the only way to bring you back in a way, was to turn you into a regalia. That gives a lost spirit purpose again.”

Hiyori wanted to scream and run away. This was madness. A god, spirits, bringing back people from the dead?!! She could hear the battle raging just out of her sightline. And this girl. “Who are you then?”

“I’m Nora, one of Yato’s regalia like you. He calls me his little sister. We used to work for Father in the old days but we’ve both been betrayed by him. Yato realized it sooner than I did, but that man was only using us to wage his war with the Gods of Heaven.”

Great now Gods of Heaven as in plural. Hiyori’s head was spinning, and she felt like throwing up. “I love you Hiyori. Soon I pray, it’ll all make sense again.” Is what the man had said and even though her brain was not comprehending everything going on, her heart was telling her to remember it all... To remember... Hiyori gasps, “Remember me…”

A sharp pain shoots through her head, so she cradles it in her hands from the sudden spike. ‘Remember me…’ Hiyori cries out once and her vision goes black.

Hiyori Iki, 19 years old. Born to Sayuri and Takamasa Iki, brother of Masaomi, and born on June 28th. Everything about her life flashes as images in her minds eye. How she’d met Yato at the age of 16 through a near-death experience. Becoming a hanyou, The Far Side, the Gods, everything was rushing back in the blink of an eye.

As quickly as it began, it ended, and a final memory paused like on a movie screen. It was an image of Kofuku holding up the matching making tablets… ‘I— remember…’ Her feelings for Yato had started long before the god of poverty had interceded, but perhaps, that goddesses intervention truly sealed their bond eternally in a red string of fate? ‘That’s right…’ she’s starting to put the connections together. Learning who she really was should have driven her insane. It hurt, but…

Hiyori’s eyes open and finds herself lying on the ground with Nora kneeling beside her.

“Oh, thank the Kami’s you’re back,” the girl breathed out a sigh of relief. “I didn’t know what was going on, you just suddenly collapsed again.”

“Thank you, Nora,” she sits ups slowly. “I-I remember who am.”

A strange, invigorating energy was thrumming inside of Hiyori and she wondered if this is what the weapon aspect of a Shinki felt like. But Yukine had never mentioned feeling an odd sensation, and even weirder, she didn’t sense a regular weapon in her soul. The name Yato had given her was not of a normal tool but matched her abilities even while she was still alive.

She turns to Nora, “I need to help Yato. We need to help Yato.”

“There’s nothing we can do unless he calls for us,” the young girl replies. “And he probably wouldn’t want you anywhere near the fighting.”

Hiyori lifts up her hands and focuses on them, reaching deep within her very essence and feeling the energy burning inside of her. Nora watches in fascination and downright amazed surprise when they begin to glow. She’d become the perfect weapon to defeat a sorcerer.

“I don’t care what Yato thinks,” the woman steels her resolve. “He needs my help.”

With Nora following close behind, Hiyori rushes over to where the Gods were fighting. They see others had joined in the battle. Kofuku & Daikoku. Tenjin, Ebisu, and several others that Father had not yet brought to their knees. Amaterasu and Heaven’s army had already suffered devastating losses prior to this event, and this fight with his son, was Father’s last obstacle. The two girls stand at the top of a hill surveying the battle, and when Yato senses them he turns to look.

That lapse in focus also catches Father’s attention. He breaks away from one attack and rushes towards Yato.

“Call my name now!!” Hiyori screams to the stray God.

He hadn’t planned on letting Hiyori anywhere near this fight, but overwhelming energy flooding off his Shinki was something he’d never heard of or felt in his life. Without another second of hesitation, he screams, “Majoki!!”

The flash of light from the vessels transformation was not only blinding but sent out a wave of energy that sent Father flying backwards from the shockwave. Even the other Gods stopped what they were doing in confusion. No new weapon manifested in Yato’s hand, only a red tasseled cord wrapped loosely around his neck.

Whatever miko abilities Hiyori had in life were now amplified ten-fold as a Shinki. Her connection to Yato and their love for one another transcended death because of their tied fate and as his regalia turned her into his strongest weapon against this kind of foe. How do you fight a sorcerer? With sorcery.

“Whoa what the hell powers does she have now?!” Yato hears Yukine asking him in his mind. “Even I can feel her!”

“Y-Yeah, even I’m surprised,” the God answers back. It all felt a little strange because it was so different than any other Shinki he’s ever had. Hiyori’s powers didn’t flow from a tool… Yato became the tool.

“Bind his powers Yato. He is nothing without his magic.”

“But how?! That’s a Shinki’s ability not a Gods.”

“You shall wield us,” she responds in his mind with no hesitation. “All you need to do is strike Father once and I will send the power through Sekki. Once he’s wounded my magic will seep through to affect the spell. Then you all attack for he will be a mere human.”

“We can do this Yato,” Yukine responds as well. “As a team.”

“No,” the God breathes out with a smirk, “as a family. Hiki!!!” He pulls his third vessel into the fray.

“Yato what are you thinking, three of us will sap a lot of your energy,” Nora scolds the God.

“Well then we better make this quick!”

“Guys!” He screams at the other Gods. “Let’s back him into a corner fast! I got a plan!”

After being thrown back, Father scrambled to his feet ready to take on the next challenger. With Yato’s call of collaboration, God after God along with their Shinki’s levy a multitude of attacks at the sorcerer forcing him into a defensive. There’s just too many things coming at him to counter. He tries to call ayakashi’s to his aid, but they are either killed off quickly or Hiyori and Nora combine their energies to control the spirits.

Finally, the constant barrage is taking a huge toll on the sorcerer and everyone can sense it. The male is using a significant amount of energy to fight back, and it’s rapidly depleting. A solid blow from Bishamon sends him hurtling into the trunk of a tree. He hits his back hard against it and falls straight down. Then, before he can get to his feet, Yato sweeps in with two solid strikes by Chiki and Sekki, cutting a deep gash over the sorcerers torso.

Father screams in searing pain as he feels the burn of Hiyori’s magic soak into his flesh. “No! No! No! this cannot be!!” It travels outward from the wound until it encompasses his entire body, binding his magic, and sapping any ability beyond a physical confrontation. He sinks to the ground, clutching to his chest and abdomen, in agony. “That bitch!”

“Oi,” Yato narrows his eyes and puts the blade of Sekki to the man’s throat, “don’t call her a bitch just because she out classed you.” It was starting to dawn on the stray God that his meeting Hiyori truly had a purpose.

The man grits his teeth as adrenaline from pain and anger fires through his nerves. “Fuck you!!”

“Tch. You thought you knew me, us so well that you thought you could manipulate things. But you never did old man. Your hate ends now.”

At that moment, the war goddess grabs the fallen sorcerer by the fabric of his yukata and yanks him to his feet. “Heaven has rendered their full judgement upon you. Amaterasu will make your death a painful one I’m sure.” With the help of some of Heaven’s soldiers, the mortally wounded sorcerer is flown away to receive his divine punishment.

Yato releases his Shinki’s and collapses from exhaustion. Thank the Kami’s it was over because he wasn’t sure how much longer he would have lasted. There would be a lot of explaining to do but it could wait. First things first.

“Yukine, Nora, could you two wait for me at Kofuku’s?” the stray god requests of his regalia. “I need to talk to Hiyori.”

“Don’t do anything else crazy!” Yukine shakes his finger, scolding the man.

“Come on,” Nora pushes at her friend. “I doubt she’d let him.”

Once the pair is leaving, he turns back to the woman sitting patiently beside him. “Hiyori…” he felt guilty that he wasn’t able to save her life, and now wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

“I don’t blame you,” she takes his hand. “It was my fault for getting in the way.”

“But Father was right, if only you’d never met me… o-or if I’d cut your ties sooner, you’d still be alive.”

“Yato, listen to me.” She cups his cheeks in her hands and holds his gaze. “Do not blame yourself for any of this. I made my choices and you honored my wish. Am I sad that my family won’t be able to see me anymore, of course? They’ll be heart broken, but we both know this was the only way to make my final wish come true because no matter what,” her voice softens into a smile, “I love you too.”

#yatori #yatori week 2020 #soulmate prompt #yato #Hiyori iki #canon divergent #yatori fanfiction #noragami #noragami aragoto #yatogami #iki hiyori #red string of fate #yatori fan fic #yatori edit

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captzexx · 4 years

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Daily Writing Challenge

Day 3 - Autumn

Falconhurst was under siege.

Again.

The southern trading town seemed to be a magnet for the exiled remnant of the Heartsbane Coven, though calling it a remnant was understatement with the growing raids of wicker beasts and abominations that stormed the barricaded port. The squeals and silent roars of monsters from the depths of the red wood would charge the wooden walls as the defenders manned the defense with spear, fire, and shot. Clawing and tearing to break through as men and women made repairs and fought back the monsters that had nearly wiped out the poor citizens of the city. Despair crippled the people during those early days as the Coven near burned the city to ash but had come with silver, holy fire, and unyielding resolve. It was one of the first victories for the Order of Embers.

It was only the beginning.

Cheryl Dunn gently pulled a twisted glass vial from the straw filled chest and nodded with approval seeing the familiar black and white chemicals so dangerously close to one another. The woman was young for the Order, but just as anyone could be was a life filled with tragedy and loss at the hands of the cursed Coven that had taken their country. A family lost, a home burned, sacrifices, and perhaps the final revenge for a life stolen. Dirty blonde hair was tied back in a tail, while her face had been young and healthy was now lined with the stress and abrasions of war. Josiah swore she would be as white haired as Proudmore by the end of the season, Cheryl had only made sure to point out his own receding hairline.

"Careful." A grim voice warned.

Cheryl rolled her eyes and gently deposited the liquid fire back in it's safe home. The woman let out a sigh, her head leaning back to knock against the barricade she found herself stationed behind waiting in that calm before the next storm. "See anything?"

The grim voiced returned a grunt letting her know that so far it all was quiet on the Crimson front, exactly what she didn't want. Or rather what she had not wanted before she was chosen by Tre Ur Steini, the large stone ax beside her pulsing softly with awakened Drust magic. The ancient primitive malevolent weapon was always eager for combat, blood, and the upward unending battle. It was a martyr's weapon. Cheryl shivered slightly in the low afternoon light at the thought of what likely would be her end with the cursed thing, but there had been only one choice when it came to her and she would gladly take it again. She looked up again to her commander and teacher, her eyes lingering on the older man with a reverence and slight fear most of the Order felt with him.

Eldridge Candell was now one of the longest serving second generation Inquisitors within the Order, having been one of the first to be sworn in after the fall of Waycrest Manor. He was an Eastern Kingdomer, saying he was born in Stormwind before the First War and served many times for the human kingdoms in previous wars. Grey thin hair topped his head with a weeks beard struggling on his scarred face, while sharp blue eyes were always watching and waiting in the silent danger of a real predator. He was a killer, and everyone knew it. Candell was never shy about answering questions or being afraid to talk about himself, but he hardly ever gave anything away for free. What lines Cheryl had gained in her short journey as an Inquisitor, Eld looked to have been made of lightning strikes and scars from all manner of wound. But he kept coming back. He kept fighting. He kept doing his job.

"Harvest is going to be sour this year," Cheryl mentioned in an attempt to engage Eld. A grunt was all she got in return. Sighing she would lean back against the barricade and looked back to the ruined town of Falconhurst. Would this port ever recover? She would remember coming down here in the autumns with her family, bringing winter squash and pickled vegetables for sale. There was a vendor who used to sell rock salt candy.

"Duun." Cheryl came back with a start as she blinked awake and looked up to Eld who was now looking back toward the town. It was one of the guards, Caruso she thought his name was as she struggled to get to her feet. A calloused, strong hand would grab her by the forearm to steady her up to her feet and she nodded thanks to Eld as they watched the guard approach them.

"Inquisitor Candell?" Caruso spoke with a hint of Sound to his accent, his helmet tilted back to clear his sight on the two.

"Aye." Eld responded, as he let Cheryl go and took a step forward to the soldier.

"There's a raven for you, sir."

The old man nodded as he continued in his stride to him, calling over his shoulder to his apprentice. "Hold the line, and light th.."

"The fire at the first sight of the pigmen. I know, Eld. Go answer your mail." Cheryl finished his words with a slight smile to her face as she faced the looming red wood of the Crimson. Candell never even looked back but she he was smiling in his thin way. A black shadow loping after him seeming from no where as it padded along to walk beside him.

The steps of the rookery felt like they rose forever for Eld, his legs burning and back aching as he climbed up each set of stones. He was tired. For the last few weeks, the Coven, the Drusts, even the wild beasts of Drustvar had seemed to go into some kind of frenzy. Death and destruction forever in their paths, the Order was struggling to keep up as it spread itself from here in Falconhurst all the way up into Stormsong and even a case or two in Boralus. When it rains it pours, but the flood was drowning the farmers.

A shaky weary sigh was let loose as he stopped a moment to catch his breath, his scarred hand twitching involuntarily as he closed his eyes to steady himself in the stairwell. The few brief moments of closing his eyes was all his mind needed to conjure the horrors he and his fellow rangers had encountered in the last weeks. Sacrifices, murders, and butchery that were far to reminiscent of the early days during Lucille Waycrest's hold on the land and the dark grip of the Thul. The bloodied faces of a strung up pilgrim family floated in his minds eye from a week ago; the father, the mother, son and son. Flayed to the bone and harvested in a fashion that thankfully caused his eyes to snap open with a soft gasp.

"Inquisitor?" Caruso's voice spoke from behind him with concern which only brought aggravated shame to the older man. A crack of knuckles as he squeezed a fist, before feeling a familiar rub to his leg and saw the silent face of Bandit staring up at him. Midnight dark eyes met fiery blue and extinguished the rage rapidly bringing a wave of shame before reluctant understanding as to why he was this way. He needed sleep and the damn dog knew it as much as him. A gentle rub brought as much delight to the beast as it brought relief to Eld.

"Sorry, Caruso. Think I'm just tired."

"I understand, it's been hell around here the last few days."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Why? You didn't unleash this evil on us." The guard stood patiently behind Eld that only felt to push the inquisitor up the last few sets of stairs to to the raven hold. Eld took to the hint and began to rise up the steps again.

"I know, but I can sympathize with you."

"Oh. Thank you." Caruso said as they reached the final door, his hands fishing out the keys to open the door for him. Safety had become paramount these days as spies came in all shapes and sizes in the Coven's attempts to finish off the free peoples of Drustvar. "Do you think it will slow down? Or get any better?"

Eld grimaced hard as he heard the younger man question him, the jangle of keys being the only excuse for him to keep his answer to himself. They didn't need to hear the truth out loud.

The key slid into the first of four locks before the heavy clicks of iron resounded in the quiet tower before the final grunt and shove of the oak door.

"By the light." Caruso gasped ahead as Eld watched him reaching for his sword with surprise but practiced ease. The inquisitor took the last few steps two at a time as his shadow slid past the guard and into the room, the hound's stance wide head bowed but silent in his position. Candell was not far behind him as he touched the guard on the back to alert him of his presence and they both followed into the top of the tower.

Straw littered the floor, mixing and matching with black feathers and spats of white droppings from the denizens of the tower. Above the rays of red and gold afternoon light would stream from the many openings to allow the messengers flight in this dark time while an old desk and rack of shelving would have parchment and quill ready to send or receive. The ravens of all manner of size usually were cawing and clacking about in a raucous abandonment enough so to drive men mad with cacophony of chatter. But now they were silent as the dead. For a moment Eld was afraid they were dead and judging by his companion he thought the same, but rather hundreds of silent black blinking unnerving eyes weighing and measuring them. The bright green eye of the woman in the center of the room was just the same.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" Caruso called as he moved to take up on Bandit's right, his sword pointed at the woman.

She was young, hardly yet into an adult by the fairness to her face and wild black hair. But the black eye-patch across her left eye aged her hard to match the scattered scarring behind it, the right green eye though shone with unnatural knowledge. She wore robes of dark leather and bone in the attire of the Thornspeakers but a large frame of black raven feathers wrapped about her shoulders and neck to a supposed hood that hung behind her head while a simple staff of ash was held in a free hand. She was tall but lacked the wide frame of a Kul Tiran, likely from the east by the look of her and probably Gilnean if she traveled dressed as such. A harvest witch or maybe another druid circle, it didn't really matter to Eld as he looked back at the woman with a sense of dread digging deep into his stomach.

The woman did not smile or look worried by the hound or guard, she merely stood in quietly in the center of the amphitheater of corvine. She spoke firmly and clearly as she found Eld's gaze and stared back. "Eldridge Candell."

"I am."

"I bring word of your father."

The crushing grip on Eld's stomach tightened, but he did not speak. The woman didn't stop.

"Erlain Candell is dead."

A few unsteady breaths followed hearing those words. Lain was dead. Licking his lips and blinking his eyes a few times, Eld tried to steady his voice as he stumbled a moment before speaking after clearing his throat. "And who are you to tell me this?"

The woman smiled slightly and took a short bow, her one eyed gaze never leaving his.

"My name is Gwynn." The woman said matter of factually as she rose to her full height again. "I am here to aid you and am in need of your help."

@daily-writing-challenge

@eldridgecandell @gatesofthetroupe

#dwc #dwc2020 #day 3 #autumn #eldridge candell #cheryl duun #gwynn #late but not forgotten

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lovefollowsknowledge · 3 years

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Rejoice! It is time.

This picture was taken just a little over 5 years ago. More specifically, it was taken on October 22, 2015 while I was living in Michigan. And ever since October 22 of this year I have been trying to get the words out of what this year’s anniversary of this picture has meant to me, but every time I feel like I come up short. I’ve tried to write it out, pray it out, and talk it out with those closest to me, but every time I feel like I’m at a lost for words as to how to adequately convey what this year’s anniversary means to me. Because for the first time, I am not afraid.

I usually hate this time of year. During this time of year I usually avoid any old posts, old pictures, and most especially any old memories. I try to avoid anything that could remind of the day this was taken. Because on this day 5 years ago, I went into the hospital for my first time ever. It was for my depression. The days and weeks leading up to this day were intense. My mind was completely gripped by the conviction of suicide. I was starting to think in lasts. Last time I would see my family, last time I would talk to friends, last time I would drive down roads, last time I would walk along paths.

There was one time in particular I was walking along a path I had been walking almost daily. It was actually a beautiful fall day, but my mind was very very dark. I started to see everything as an opportunity, and I had already made up my mind that once I got back home that would be it. But by God’s providence alone, I was met with a busy house, too busy to do anything so severe. So I trudged along.

There was another day in particular where I was alone at work. I had gone to vigil Mass and stayed behind uncontrollably sobbing in my pew till everyone was gone and all the lights shut off. It was to the point I even had another parishioner check on me before they left. I bawled all the way down the hallway back to my office and tried so hard to distract myself with work and worship music, but nothing helped. Eventually I sought out professional help, but even that brought no relief. But again, by God’s providence alone, my therapist from California, who I hadn’t talked to in 8 months, randomly called me just to check in and talked me through all the thoughts I was having. She told me “Don’t let this be the end. FIGHT! Which for you mostly means, RECEIVE!”

One other time that I will always remember was one evening we all came back home from something, maybe vigil Mass, and it was one of those days where I had to fight with all my strength not to completely break down. So the moment we got home, I went straight to my room, locked the door, and just tossed and turned in agony on my bed not knowing how to deal with the swirl of sadness, darkness, hopelessness going on in my head. I texted Ate right away that I wouldn’t be joining them that night for whatever dinner or movie they were gonna do. But she sent Jobo to go check on me. I paced the room debating if I should just push through, let him in, and go join them. I decided against it and shooed him off. But with God’s loving and relentless providence, He sends Ate down to check on me who refuses to let me keep the door locked. I open the door, and immediately she just scoops me up in all my despair and lets me cry in her arms. We spend the rest of the night just laying in my bed as I word vomit all the sadness I had been bottling up.

Finally the day came when my doctor wouldn't let me sit in my thoughts anymore. It just wasn't safe. So she made me promise I’d take myself to the hospital, call her when I got there, and have the hospital call her if they didn’t admit me. I drove home completely stunned, shocked, and dumbfounded that it had actually reached that point. It was one of those drives I had no idea how I got home. Very emptily, I packed my stuff trying to accept the fact that I was going to the hospital with a very high chance of me staying there overnight. My brother called in that moment, and that’s when I started to break. He told me, “This is only the beginning, and I can’t wait to see you come out the other side. You’re gonna be so much stronger.” He then asked if I wanted him and Rose to come out, and very timidly, I said yes. It was hard for me to admit, but I really really needed them in that moment. I needed the assurance of love. I needed to know it was going to be okay. I needed to be taken care of. So I gave in.

That night was by far the scariest moment of my life. Kuya and Ate stayed with me till the doctors and nurses said that was as far as they could go and as long as they could stay. My heart sunk in that moment as things started to get more and more real with them leaving. I did my orientation interview with the nurse, and that’s when she told me the soonest I could get out of there was Monday bc the minimum was usually 3 days and the discharge doctor doesn’t work on weekends. Monday was 4 days away. I went to bed that night in medical robes and bawled myself to sleep. If I didn’t have a roommate I would probably be wailing with every bit of fear and anxiety within me. I was doing one of those big silent cries, where the weight is so heavy but I’m not able to make a sound.

The next 4 days were intense as I had to face my darkness straight in the eyes for my first time, with no other distractions, no other escape. I spent my days calling anyone I possibly could from those free phones, just desperate to hear a voice outside those hospital walls. Something to keep me grounded that there is life outside of this, there is hope and people waiting for me. I lived for 4-5pm, the one hour a day we were allowed to have visitors. That first day in particular, it felt like forever till Ate got there. Ohhh but when she did, it was over. We were a mess. We both hated that I was there, and we both desperately wanted me to leave, but I just couldn’t. The following days Ced and Rose were there, and a couple times even brought me the Eucharist :) It was a scary time, but also very reflective. At this point I was 99.9999% convinced I was made for suicide, and if anyone found me loved and lovable, it was them that was being deceived. But the nurses and doctors couldn’t understand why I was there because it was clear I had a good life and was blessed with a solid support system. But as I was reading through my notes from my time there - which I almost never do, except this year - I wrote what one of the doctors told me, “life starts over every 5 years, stick around and see if it gets good.”

And well, here I am 5 years later, and for the first time, instead of running in fear from the memories of this time in year, the only word I can come up with to sum up how I’m feeling is REJOICE. This year on October 22 all I wanted to do was rejoice over the memories. Instead of hiding in shame, I wanted everyone to know it’s been 5 years bc I’m honestly so proud. Because waking up on October 22, 2020 it felt like I could finally exhale. There’s something about this year that makes me feel like I can finally say, “You did it. You survived. It’s over.” There’s something about this year that makes it feel like this chapter of depression is finally over, and I can now move on. And I wish I can tell you what exactly made it that way, but I just can’t. Maybe there’s more to process, but it’s as if I just found myself on the other side. The other side that Ced talked to me about right before I went in. It’s like one of those war movies, where the scene cuts just as they’re in the middle of big explosions, and everything feels overwhelming. But the very next scene is the solider waking up, and the next thing he knows is the war is done. The battle was won, he fought the good fight, and he’s free to return home. That’s where I’ve seemed to find myself. It’s as if I found myself with the strength that Ced almost prophesied over me right before I went in. And it blows me away that on the one year I’m actually brave enough to read my old notes, this is the one I find - “life starts over every 5 years, stick around and see if it gets good.” And it’s not even that I would write to Past Mare of 5 years ago and say, “Yes! Stick around bc it does get good!” As if all this will go away soon and all my dreams will come true. Bc that 100% didn’t happen. But I would tell myself “stick around, feel the feels, voice all the thoughts, and just keep fighting. bc one day, you will find yourself free.”

Bc that’s exactly how I feel - free. It’s as if I’ve been chained down all this time, and by God’s grace the locks have been broken, and I can walk free, no conditions, no tricks, just free. Almost like Genie at the end of Aladdin. He fought the fight, he was faithful, and now the cuffs are simply off and he’s free to go. Just like that. And every time I’ve tried to write this out, pray this out, talk this out, I am brought to tears bc the freedom isn’t just from the fear and despair I felt 5 years ago in that hospital. The truth is that hospital bed was a lonnnng time coming. The tears of rejoicing that I shed now are not only for Hospital-Mare 5 years ago, but for St. Rose-Mare 7 years ago who felt like a piece of shit every single day, Newly Graduated-Mare 8 years ago who felt life was hopeless, Senior Year of College-Mare 9 years ago who couldn’t help but be attracted to the idea, and Senior Year of High School-Mare 13 years ago who felt no one would even notice or care. Bc for the first time in 13 years I am no longer plagued by the conviction that my life is irreversibly hopeless and helpless, that I am intrinsically unloved and unlovable, and that as sure as the sun will rise, I am destined for suicide. For the first time in 5 years I am no longer afraid of this time of year bc there is a still but sure certainty that my life is about to change as this 13 year battle has finally come to an end. Not that depression will be fully behind me and will no longer be a thing for me for the rest of my life, but that depression no longer runs my life. Depression no longer dictates my life. Depression may still be in the car, but it no longer drives the car of my life. And I can’t help but weep over this triumph.

It’s such a trippy and almost anticlimactic experience though bc there really isn’t 1 particular moment I can point to. (Well maybe there is but that might be for another story ;)) But even then, there was more before leading up to that moment. Like so many people, 2020 has brought a lot of loss for me. But most of mine are relationships (for different reasons). I lost a couple relationships with people who have guided me through many years of my life; I lost a very personal and close relationship; I lost the relationships from my job and all those that came with it (at least the nature of them). And while each loss has brought a lot of grief, worry, and tears, at the end of the day there was peace bc it all just felt part of the plan. It felt like watching the series finale of a show where everything starts to find resolution, bringing the show to a final and peaceful close. With every loss this year, it felt like another resolution and another part of the story coming to an end. It felt like the final pages of a book closing. And something in me just knew, this is it.

And again, I wish I could say I went to the hospital and that was it. Life was beautiful and perfect and made complete sense. But that’s just not true. I went 2 more times before moving back home to Cali and went another time for a very long stretch for what ended up being lupus. I lost a lot of dreams and cried many tears of agony and frustration and honestly straight anger towards God. But I had to keep moving. The freedom I live in now didn’t come with one big moment. It came with the last 5 years after the hospital, and the 4 years before the hospital, of doing the hard work in therapy. I had to learn to grow in trust and vulnerability. I had to learn how to receive care and love (probably the hardest part of it all). I had to be docile to practice what I was learning in therapy. I had be honest with my thoughts and feelings to myself, my therapist, the group I was in therapy with, and most especially with those closest to me, especially those I lived with. It also took a lot of trial and error wth medication. It took hard work, and a lot of it was being brave enough to enter into the darkness, let myself feel the feelings and voice the thoughts. It took a lot of letting people speak truth to me and even speaking truth to myself, even if it all felt like a lie. It took faithfulness to holy hours, receiving the Eucharist, and daily prayer time even if all I had was anger or indifference towards God, even if it all felt empty and pointless. It took repeating the name of Jesus, endlessly reciting the Memorare, and begging for St. Michael’s intercession in the scariest moments of my depression. It took long, hard work, but what brings me to cry tears of rejoicing now is not only how long it’s taken me to get here, but remembering the faithfulness of God to His promises.

7 years ago I was given the penance to read the Gospel of Mark, and the verse that struck me right away was Mk 5:41 “Taking her by the hand He said to her, ‘Talitha cumi,’ which means, ‘little girl I say to you, arise.’” Instantly, I knew the Lord was talking to me. The first promise.

5 years ago hiding in my hospital bed, I was looking for a specific verse in Isaiah, but I ended up on Is 43:18-19 “Remember not the events of past, the things of old consider not; see I am doing a new thing! Do you not perceive it? In the wilderness I make a way, in the wasteland, rivers.” Once again, instinctively I knew this was for me. It was the beginning that Ced was talking to me about before going in. The second promise.

Over the last few months, the verse that I find myself repeating to myself over and over, especially in times of most anxiety, fear, and worry is Jer 29:11 “For I know well the plans I have in mind for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for woe, so as to give you a future of hope.” The third promise.

This year I can’t help but cry as I look at this picture and reminisce on all the intense trapped darkness because I feel like I am now standing in the fulfillment of these promises He made to me so long ago. I just feel like He’s saying, “it’s time.” It’s finally time for me to rise up. It’s finally time for me to see this new thing He’s been building and shaping for me. It’s finally time for me to walk on the water. It’s time for me to rise out of my fear and reclaim the life and joy depression has stolen from me all those years. And in that rising, in that reclaiming, also comes the gift, the permission, the freedom to dream again and the grace and courage to pursue those dreams. Me! Me, dream again! It’s the most surreal experience that I could actually be free to walk into the light, dare to dream anew, and live unafraid of the consequences should failure come. Me! Unafraid! I just keep thinking, who the heck do I think I am that I could dream and live unafraid? That I could be free to live life joyfully again? To live bravely? To live unchained? Who am I? And I honestly can’t answer that. I can’t say I’m deserving. I can’t say to myself it is safe and possible. But the Lord in all His patience and authority just keeps saying, it is time. Today, once again in God’s providence, I happen to come across Dn 10:19 “Fear not, beloved, you are safe; take courage and be strong.” And I just feel like He’s like “Yes, you!” haha. What trips me up is realizing that healing isn’t always this big, extravagant thing. Sometimes, it’s the slow but steady work of God. Sometimes it’s just doing the work day in and day out, and being faithful to that work, and one day the Lord gives you the grace to see you’re already there. The fight is won, and you are free. No strings attached, no tricks. Just free.

I don’t have all the answers. In fact, I’ll be honest, I’ve been fighting the Lord like “Are you sure??! bc I have no idea how to do life outside of this depressed world!” I feel like Rapunzel in Tangled, who dreams all those years of leaving her tower to pursue the lights. But once her chance has finally come and she’s able to taste a new, free life, guilt takes over her, and she goes back and forth if it was the right decision - Do I dare to believe my identity could be more than my depression? This reality I’ve known for so much of my life. Do I dare take the Lord up on His offer and leave my dark tower? - But as she keeps going and finally makes it to the boats, she admits she’s afraid, “what if it’s not everything I hoped it would be?…and what if it is?” To which she’s told, “that’s the good part, you get to dream a new dream.” And as things unfold, she suddenly finds herself unafraid. And that’s where I feel I am. It’s scary bc I don’t have all the answers, I don’t have it all completely mapped out like I’d like, but all I know is it is finally my time to arise. It’s time for me to feel that water as I step out of the boat. It's time to dare to dream again, dare to live life again, and this time walk along side our Lord every step of the way. Let Him dream His dreams through me. Let my dreams unite with His. And dare I admit, I’m actually getting excited about it! :)

It’s scary, and it calls for a new level of vulnerability, and I am begging everyday for the courage to lean into this new life. But at this point all I can say is I can’t believe I made it! I can’t believe it’s over! I can’t believe I survived! And I know I wouldn't be here if it weren’t for the countless prayer warriors I have out there, prayer warriors I’m not even aware of. All the prayers, the rosaries, the Masses, the holy hours that have been offered up for me. Graces I’m sure I will be unpacking for the rest of my life. And I most especially wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for those closest to me while I was in the thick of it. Special shout out to the Urginos, to my parents, to Ced and Rose, to Ming and King, and to Age - those that literally stopped their lives just to be by my side 5 years ago. And to Hyds and Anhel who dealt with every frantic text during that time (and who still do) and never tired of speaking truth to me. I’ve screenshotted so many of our texts, and I still go back to them every now and then on some of my hardest days. And of course to my therapists, my doctors, my spiritual directors. For carrying every heavy thought with me and never letting up. And finally, to all my Kuya and Ate Saints, I know it was you guys holding me up and keeping me close to the Lord when I couldn’t do it myself.

Glory to God through Mary! I have no idea what’s next, but thank You in advance for whatever happens from here. Let’s get it! :)

LDM

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ineffably-good · 4 years

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Prompt: Home

This is part of the Good Omens 30th Anniversary celebration prompts! Click here to go read all of the ones I’ve completed on AO3.

Summary: Aziraphale realizes something important about the concept of home on the night before they switch bodies. My imagining of a missing conversation.

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The Garden was home, first. Not for long, of course – he barely had a week in it, then another little while closing it up. But the right place has a way of seeping into your soul no matter how long you are in it. He had seen it over the years, Aziraphale thought – that certain feeling you get walking into a set of rooms or a library or a small shop where some ineffable combination of elements just curled up inside you immediately and took residence. Was it the light, the warmth, the combination of colors, a particular pleasant smell or inviting hearth? Whatever it was, the heart happily murmurs the word ‘home’ in its presence, and it is never mistaken.

It was years after the Garden before he felt it again. He had many places he sheltered, and some of them he cared for very much, but the true homes were fewer – one in Ninevah, a simple hut but one which suited him very dearly. One in Thebes with its warm breezes and love of learning. A fresco-painted monastic cell in Rome, before he was forbidden re-entry to the Vatican ever again. (And believe him, that still rankled.) A gamekeeper’s cottage in the North of what was now England. A hut in the Bavarian woods. A very small handful of others throughout the ages. He could still recall each of them in fond detail, despite the long or short length of time he had stayed in each.

But honestly, he’d never been in one as long as he had been in the bookshop. Over two hundred years in one place? It was a luxury he’d never dreamed of. Empires rose and fell in that kind of timespan. Wars were fought and won, kings and queens came and went, neighbors lived, neighbors died, and somehow Aziraphale was still there. Inside the same four walls, under the same glass rotunda, living his life. He’d never grown so attached to a place.

Which meant, of course, that it made him vulnerable; he had something to lose, something very valuable, and if his enemies were clever (which fortunately, they rarely were), they had a place to hit him where it would hurt very badly.

It didn’t happen until the almost apocalypse, and then he wasn’t even around to see it. It was up to Crowley to break the news to him, twice. It hardly penetrated the first time. “It burned down,” the demon said to him.

“All of it?” he said, brought up short -- but then there was the discovery that the book had survived, and the need to find a body and stop the end of the world, and that was the end of that. He didn’t think about it again for what felt like days but was truly only hours, until they were sitting on the bench at the bus stop, waiting for a ride back to London.

“It burned down, remember?” Crowley said again, peering at him gently.

This time there was nothing to cushion the blow. He’d relinquished his sword yet again, he’d lost and regained his body, the devil was gone to who knows where, and reality was returning to normal – but his shop, his home, his haven of two hundred and nineteen years, was no more. He kept his face as blank as he could while he reeled inside from the pain.

“How – how did it burn?” he asked later, as they sat on the white leather couch in Crowley’s living room. It wasn’t a pleasant couch; it didn’t invite lounging and reading the way the Chesterfield in his office had. But with Crowley there and a few glasses of wine and a throw or two, it somehow became much more hospitable.

“I don’t know,” Crowley admitted. “Didn’t smell like hellfire, although I couldn’t tell that at first. Thought it had been Hastur or someone, for a while.” He paused to take a deep breath and stuff that feeling down deep. “It wasn’t.”

“Accident, then?” the angel suggested. “I was speaking to the Metatron when I got discorporated. So, there were candles about.”

“The Metatron discorporated you?” Crowley shouted. “That son of a bitch! I’ll fucking murder him!”

“No, no,” Aziraphale said, laying a hand on Crowley’s arm. “It wasn’t him. It was a human. Caught me in the act with the Metatron, so to speak, and assumed I was conjuring demons. I was trying to prevent him from stepping into the circle himself and being harmed when I accidentally crossed the boundary and was sent back to Above.”

“Who?” Crowley growled.

“Never you mind,” Aziraphale said gently. “It was my fault and not theirs, and I won’t have you administering demonic justice on anyone on my behalf.”

Crowley scowled into his wine for a few minutes. “So probably the force of you ascending bodily into heaven knocked over a candle or two and that was that.”

“Most likely,” Aziraphale nodded.

They drank quietly for a few minutes after that, both lost in thought. Aziraphale knew Crowley was thinking about the retribution that was likely coming to them, and he ought to focus on that too – they desperately needed a plan. But his mind was distracted, pinging off random thoughts about the bookstore being gone and particularly about something he did not understand – why was he not feeling as bad as he ought to?

He should be devastated. It was gone, all of it. The culmination of centuries of book collecting, the best nest he’d ever formed, all of it evaporated in the blink of an eye. And it did hurt, like a punch to the chest, but he wasn’t as levelled by it as he would have expected. Instead, he felt – well he felt surprisingly safe. Warm. Cared for. He was with Crowley.

A thought came to him with a sudden shock, and he gasped in spite of himself.

“What?” Crowley said, startling upright. “Do you have an idea for what we should do?”

“Yes, yes, possibly, or the start of one,” the angel said, “but this is something else. Something just occurred to me.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Do tell?”

“You visited me in Ninevah, didn’t you? At the small hut I kept there?”

Crowley frowned. “Multiple times. Our time there overlapped by about two years. Introduced you to date wine and all kinds of depravity.”

“And Thebes?”

Crowley thought for a moment. “That tent you kept outside of the temples? I think I spent about a month there with you, off and on, recovering from that near-discorporation when the camel spit on me and I fell off right next to the cliff and ended up – oh you know, right?”

Aziraphale remembered that. Crowley had never truly forgiven camels after that. Not that he blamed them. Horrible creatures, camels. If he weren’t commanded to love all of Her creatures, he would have made an exception for that one.

“But were you in any of my homes between the two?” he asked, deep in thought.

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on?”

Aziraphale waved a hand. “Just humor me. I know you have a prodigious memory.”

Crowley thought back. “I don’t think so. We saw each other a handful of times, but it was always in transit – while we were travelling, or at an oasis, or during a battle. I can’t remember seeing any of your homes in between those two periods.”

“And in Rome, remember that one time when I smuggled you inside the monastery to see the frescoes? Fra Mitti was doing such astonishing work, and there was the one fresco that included a painting of the serpent of Eden, and you insisted on seeing it?”

“Didn’t even burn my feet,” Crowley said, laughing. “Living quarters weren’t consecrated enough. Liked that serpent though.”

“Oh my good Heavens,” Aziraphale said. “It’s you. It’s not the places themselves, it’s the places that you’ve been in.”

Crowley blinked, utterly lost. “What is it you’re trying to say, angel?”

Aziraphale blushed, aware he had revealed more than he had intended to. “Oh, it’s just that I’ve been thinking about the places that I’ve lived and what differentiates them. You’ve lived in a number of tents and huts and houses and manses over the years – you certainly know how some of them are just places to sleep to you and some of them have a different feel to them, like something makes them feel like a true home? Almost something alchemical, the way they morph into something with meaning?”

Crowley nodded. Most of his hadn’t, to be honest. He’d tried not to put down too many roots. Hell frowned upon it, and there was always some rogue demon showing up to visit with him and destroy his belongings for fun anyways, and the few places he had cared for and protected early on had ended up sacked or destroyed in wars and fires, and after a while he had given up on trying to embue his surroundings with a sense of safety. What was the point? The only safety for him was and had always been the angel, anyway. It didn’t matter where he slept.

After the events of the day, finding themselves on their own side, Aziraphale just couldn’t be bothered to hide his true feelings anymore. In for a penny, as they say, in for a pound.

“I just realized that all of the places that have truly become a home to me are places that you have visited,” he blurted out. “It’s not the places themselves, it’s you.”

Crowley looked deeply embarrassed, and also slightly flattered. It was, in a word, adorable, the angel thought.

“Nahhhh,” the demon drawled. “Not me. I mean, maybe I played a part in it. Added some wine and the occasional tchotchke I picked up on my travels. Kicked up the décor a notch or two. But maybe you just only shared the places with me that already felt that way – didja ever think of that?”

Aziraphale smiled fondly. “So, you think I just didn’t invite you into the more horrible places I lived?”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah. Like you only brought me over to the good ones. Because you’re – you know, what did they use to call it? House proud.” He grinned. “Fussy.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes mildly. “If I were truly fussy, I’d have gotten a demon friend with better manners, my dear.”

Equilibrium restored by that slight insult, they both relaxed back onto the seat cushions and sipped their wine. Aziraphale smiled into his cup, though; he knew he was correct in this realization, and he knew why he didn’t feel completely devastated at the moment. Sad, yes, hurting, yes, worried about the future and what they would make of it. But the bookshop, while a blow, wasn’t an immeasurable loss. The things he had loved and gathered were gone, but he was still at home in the world, as long as Crowley was here. As long as they were safe and together.

That jarred a thought in his head, and he reached into the inner breast pocket of his jacket to pull out the singed piece of paper that they had been puzzling over earlier in the evening. It was all related, he thought – home and safety and ensuring that each other was present, and feeling as at home in each other as they did in their own skins.

A light clicked on in his brain and he was suddenly, utterly sure that they were going to survive this, whatever retribution Above and Below had planned for them.

“Crowley,” he said, “I’ve had the most brilliant, wicked idea…”

#goc2020 #good omens fanfiction #Aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #home #body switching

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ikesengoficss · 5 years

Note

A dash (read: barrel) of angst in the form of Mitsuhide? Perhaps he's been solving incident after incident, but misses a barely-connected overarching gathering of information between them that centers around endangering MC, or she's somewhere unexpected while he's working and gets caught in the crossfire, or people think he's a traitor and takes it out on MC, or lots of other stuff! Mitsuhide's a wonderful angst magnet for us. Loads of things to go for, throw stuff out there! c:

MITSUHIDE ANGST! YES. YAY YAY THANK YOU. I really, really, really enjoyed writing this. I hope you like it! I couldn’t really tell if you want this to be a headcanon or fic, so I made it a headcanon in the end.

Please leave me your feedback! :)

Mitsuhide Angst Headcanon: letting stress out on the MC when she is almost killed

“I miss you in my bed,” you had whispered the night before.

How he wanted to lay down in the comfort of your soft embrace.

You were almost killed today. He would have followed you to the grave if you had. He blamed himself entirely; and that blame, that fear, that heart wrenching thought that continued to linger in the back of his mind, that one day you could very well be killed, and it could be his fault, lead to his aggression and anger towards you.

Here is where it all began:

Mitsuhide was investigating on a recent attack on Nobunaga’s life when he was touring Kyoto.

These were no ordinary bandits; Nobunaga’s life was almost nearly stripped, and all of Azuchi’s fearless warlords knew this was a more serious case then ronin.

For weeks, he had been investigating. Late nights, some days not seeing you, and that was the real thing that was killing him. He’d never admit it, but he was tired. And this investigation seemed to drag on, and on, and he was getting nowhere.

Until he found the bastards. Each warlord, you too, took a sigh of relief when Nobunaga called for a war council so Mitsuhide could share the important information, and planning could begin.

They were not just relieved to have a lead, but everyone could see the frustration and turmoil in Mitsuhide as he fought with all his might to find these men.

Mitsuhide asked you not attend the war council.

“Why not?”

In truth, he didn’t want you to attend because he’d discovered the culprit behind the attacks was actually an elder posing as a beggar in the city.

You had become great friends with the man, usually stopping to give him whatever you can, having lunch with him, and such.

Unfortunately, he was actually a very famous samurai, and he was out for Nobunaga’s head.

Mitsuhide did not want you to find out this way. He didn’t want you to have to hear their plans to kill the guy. He also didn’t want you to find out the man was using you.

he knew you had connections to the Oda all along.

So he lied. He told you Nobunaga had asked for you to not attend this meeting.

He gently caressed your cheek, before cupping your chin and tilting your head back. Your pout was adorable, but he didn’t want to see that now. “I promise you. This is almost over.”

The council began, smoothly at first. Mitsuhide gave all the information he had, and was praised by his lord. Then Hideyoshi continued with what he had,

and the planning began from there. The seven warlords began to strategize; when they’d attack, how, where. It was all going smoothly to plan,

until a horrid scream came from the courtyard.

Mitsuhide recognized it in a heartbeat, and was on his feet in seconds. The door was swung open, and he shoved past vassals who were shouting, “Enemy attack!”

He couldn’t find you, where were you? His mind was screaming. Were you kidnapped? Shit.

“Mitsuhide!”

In a bed of grass, he saw you, flailed on your back as you fought off the old samurai who’s dagger was pointed towards your neck. Your hands were shaking as you gripped the wrist of the man, fighting to keep the knife from slicing down into your throat, killing you instantly.

The tip was so close to piercing your skin. It just barely touched.

Mitsuhide shot. Ending it there.

He dragged you back to his manor, not speaking a word. His face was hard and his mind was racing.

He pulled you to his room, and went straight to work. Not speaking a word.

This went on for hours.

“Mitsuhide…?”

Your soft voice… was so angelic. He wants to hear you say his name again, he wants to always have your voice imprinted in his mind… but if he hears you speak it again, he’ll be reminded of how he almost lost it.

“Mitsuhide?”

So beautiful. And he could have never heard it again. Never hear you say his name. Or the soft little murmurs you make in your sleep. Or the way you laugh that’s a little high pitched and chirpy, but he could listen to it all day.

“Mitsuhide, please look at me.”

Your eyes are rare gems, and how he was able to obtain them, he’d never know. So he couldn’t look at you, because he almost lost those gems. If he was a second too late, he could have stared into them having lost all light.

He wants you to just go back to your sewing. He wants you to just leave him be so he can focus once again. He needs time to relax, he’s so tense.

He can feel your soft palm against his cheek, fingers just caressing his warm skin. And your hand goes down to his shoulder, down his arm, and to his hands, where you slowly begin to pull the quill from his hand.

He’s ready to let it drop, to succumb to your warm touch, but instead,

A fire was suddenly lit within him.

And it burned.

“Foolish girl! Did you forget you were almost killed today?!” he snapped. “Are you that heedless of what is going on right now? Dragging my attention away to do some silly charade of yours will only put not only you in more danger, but the whole of Azuchi,

“So I suggest if you have nothing useful to say, or do, you just continue to mindlessly sew with no care in the world.”

You didn’t look angry. You look hurt as you stood in front of him, hands pulled back to your chest with an aghast look on your face. He could see the tears brimming in your eyes.

He regretted his harshness immediately, but he stood by what he was saying. He needed you to understand, you were almost killed. You could have died, and it would have been because he told you to stay outside. He was trying to protect you, but in the end put you in more danger.

But your tears broke his heart. You turned away from him, nodding, hugging yourself tightly.

He heard you sniffle and begin to quickly wipe at your face.

“You’re right, so I’ll just leave for now to let you work,” you mumble, heading for the door.

If he could smash his head against a wall right now, he would. He snapped again; “No, you will stay here. Did you not listen to anything I just said?”

“Oh, I listened to everything you said. Especially the part about me being useless. So I’ll get out of your way.” You turned back towards the door.

He could kick himself. He wanted to stop, but he couldn’t. He was terrified. He’d never been so scared in his life.

He was on his feet in an instant, striding towards you to grab your arm and yank you back.

You squeaked as he did.

His gold orbs sharpened; you could get lost in those eyes, as if drifting on clouds, b right now, you felt you were crashing in the waves of his fury that mirrored through his eyes.

There were tears streaming down your face, even with the defiant look you gave him. It didn’t stop him from continuing to yell;

“You are just as dense as the day we met. You don’t understand a thing. You don’t understand that if you walk out that door right now, there could be someone behind there ready to kill you. Because of your connections to Nobunaga, and because of your connections to me, you have a target the size of the castle on your back.

“So for heaven-sakes, just listen for once and quit being so stubborn.”

He begins to pull you back in the room, but you tug your arm from his grip and press a hard shove to his back. He snaps back around with a glare, but he’s met with a hard smack to his face.

If looks could kill, he’d be crucified.

“You’re wrong, Mitsuhide. I understand completely. I understand more than you believe. I understand because every night I am watching you work to keep me, and everyone else safe. I understand, because I am at every meeting, and I hear what you say about the danger we are in, and what is still needed to be done to create the peaceful Japan we strive for.

“I understand because I’ve watched you work endlessly at night to find these men and bring them down. I’ve watched you stress over this for so long. We all have.

“So don’t you dare try and tell me I don’t understand. That’s a lousy cop out for how you’re feeling right now, which again, I understand.”

Oh, he could scream. “Cop out!? You don’t understand,” he growled. “All you have just said hasn’t shown any understanding of your throat almost being slit today, and it would have been my fault.”

“Why do you keep blaming yourself for this?” you retaliate. “No one could see that attack on the castle coming.”

“You were in that garden when they attacked. If you had been in the council, you’d have never been attacked.”

You laughed, breathlessly, your hands frantically shook in front of you as you retorted, “That’s not your fault! I wasn’t allowed in that meeting. It was Nobunaga who said I wasn’t to attend-“

“I lied!”

He hollered it.

It was almost so out of character. Not the lying, but his broken scream. He lied to you in order to protect you, but it didn’t at all, and he would have to live with that. His hands ringed through his snowy hair, knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists.

You watched, heartbroken, as he suddenly broke down in front of you. There was no holding back already, but if there was anything in him that he was restraining him, it was all out now.

“I lied to you and it almost got you killed! I didn’t want you to hear how that… that fucking old man you had become friends with was using you just to get to the throne. I didn’t want you to hear how you were betrayed, and I didn’t want you to feel the pain of that.

“I didn’t want you to hear our gruesome plans of killing the man. I didn’t want you to hear about all the torture we had done to just get this information.

“I wanted to protect you from it, so I told you to stay outside, but instead of protecting you, my ineptness almost killed you. I almost lost you today, and it would have been my…”

his voice began to fade as his gaze lowered down to your arm— the arm he had yanked on to stop you from leaving the room. A bright red hand print had appeared.

“… fault.”

He did that. That was him.

He felt hot; really, really hot. His face was burning, and his eyes hurt. Why couldn’t he see you clearly, why did everything looks so distorted? He didn’t realize he was crying until he looked down and saw his teardrops plunking against the wooden floors. There was an unbearable pain in his chest,

he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand. He crashed to his knees, his bones making a painful sound against the wooden floor boards.

He sobbed.

He wanted to stop, but for some reason he couldn’t. He could only muster a thousand,

“I’m so sorry.”

He’d never felt so broken before.

He’d never felt so pathetic.

He’d never felt so much pain before.

He felt cold.

But then he was warm. He couldn’t see properly at first, but he could feel the encompass of warm arms wrapping around his shaking form. He could hear the gentle shushing in his ear, and feel rain of kisses along his face, collecting his tears.

“We’re not going to fight anymore on this,” you whispered into his hair, hands stroking up and down his back soothingly. “We are not going to fight.”

He slumped in your arms, the fire that had been ablaze within him had finally gone out as he lost all fight. He began to relax in your arms, listening to you console him. I should be comforting you, he thought. Why am I acting like this?

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“I know you are.”

You help him from the ground, taking a hold of his hand and leading him to the futon. You carefully pull back the blankets, and pull him down and under.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m going to sleep, and you are too.”

“I—“

You silence him with a kiss, allowing your lips to linger. “No, Mitsuhide. You need to rest now. We all do. Look at how tired you are. Look at how it’s bringing you down. You’ve worked so hard, and now you need to rest. We will figure this all out in the morning, so for now, we are going to sleep.”

Mitsuhide didn’t fight as you pulled him to your chest, his cheek pressing against your soft breasts, your arms wrapped tightly around him.

For once, he allowed himself to be pampered this way. He closed his eyes and let sleep succumb him.

He’d take your words to heart. Tomorrow he’ll fix things.

Tonight, he will rest.

He remembers what you said those couple nights ago; “I miss you in my bed.”

He missed it too. So, so much more than you could imagine.

~~~~~

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Mitsuhide cried in his dramatic route, and it broke me :’(

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elizabeth-234 · 3 years

Text

The Hourglass

Previous Chapter Twenty: Home

Hi all. Hope you're doing well. Happy New Year and Holidays. This is the penultimate chapter!

Chapter Twenty-One: Turning Back Time

“I’m Spiderman.”

He paced back and forth in front of the couch overcome with an odd wave of déjà vu. Peter couldn’t bear to look at them once the words spilled forth from his lips. Would Tony’s eyes crinkle at the corners like when he was trying to solve a tough problem? Would Rhodey smile despite the tension in his forehead? He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, thankful despite the anxiety surrounding him that they had thought of getting him new clothes.

Tony spoke first and Peter’s breath held, pent up in his chest. “Kid, you’re full of surprises but a tad too late. Nice first suit though. Way better than mine.” 

“Shut up, Tony.”

Peter turned to stare at them all wide eyes and gaping mouth. They chuckled but motioned for him to move closer. He settled at the end of the couch, once again touched by their thoughtfulness and speechless waited for them to talk.

“We know you, Peter. We’re family and we’re going to help.”

His throat burned under Rhodey’s concerned appraisal and at Tony’s admission. How could he have forgotten? The word family, the concept of family was just as foreign to him as the apartment was on his arrival back to 2017, but he should’ve known they wouldn’t let him forget for too long. They were a family, a team, and Ross was threatening to take it away from him. Peter couldn’t let that happen. To have something so previous torn away once he’d just gotten it back would ruin him forever.

“We need to get him.” His shaking hands mirrored the tremors in his voice. “He has to pay.”

Peter remembered the first time he saw Ross, the eerie way he entered his apartment, the disdain and hatred in his eyes piercing into him. Bile rose in his mouth as he remembered the careless way he nudged May’s side as she lay on the ground. But then his eyes turned to Tony and Rhodey who staring at him not with pity but understanding, acceptance. Peter thought of their lives what they could be and what he wanted his to be. No grand fight with Ross was included. Somewhere remote and safe with the three of them is all he wanted. More than revenge, more than his fear and hatred. Peter just wanted to live a normal life.

“Wait,” He whispered. “I don’t care about that. We need to run or go somewhere he can’t find us. I want to be normal. I can’t even remember what that feels like now but is it too much to ask for?”

“That may not be possible,” Tony replied in slow intervals. “See, we haven’t been sitting around on our laurels for 25 years. We’ve been trying to pinpoint Ross’s motives and reasons. Why he was targeting certain people and what his next moves are.”

“He found you from the hospital because of the blood loss you had.”

“You actually got the blood of one of the Hulk progenitors. We did some digging at the hospital, thanks to a donation, and found out that only that would work with your… shall we say arachnid leaning blood. Ross, the bastard he is, found this out as well and traced you through time. He found out the connection between us and the future. So, it’s all because of you”

“It’s always about me.” Peter gripped his knees until his knuckles were coiled tense.

“No, don’t listen to him.” Rhodey said. “Your connection to us certainly added to the intrigue but it’s hard to say if he would have stopped you from going back for any other reason. We really don’t know that yet.”

“But we will.” Tony said and nodded at his friend serious and solemn until a tinge of excitement entered his eyes. He turned to face Peter fully. “But we’ve found him at long last. Of course, it was too easy to find him after all this time so we know he revealed himself on purpose. He probably knows you know everything. We hadn’t planned on coming back here so our attempts to neutralize his surveillance is mediocre at best.”

“Sorry I was hypothermic and not thinking straight.” Peter said sarcastically while his eyes roamed around the room as he could spot any hidden cameras. “Okay, so when do we turn him over to the police?”

Tony snorted before raising an eyebrow. Both of them hold similar expressions that made Peter’s neck heat up.

“What? Have you hit you head harder than we thought?” Rhodey said in a quiet tone.

“Kid, we don’t need the police and Ross probably owns them anyway.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at them, trying to gauge how apt they would be to a fight but he couldn’t get the winkles on their faces or the small bits of grey hairs out of his mind.

“But you guys are old now and, no offense, probably couldn’t fight them the same as when you were younger.”

“Ouch Peter. That’s harsh, isn’t it Tones? I think we’ve got some fight in us left.”

“Kid, you do know who we are, right?” Tony’s eyebrows were raised so high and Peter could tell he was on the cusp of full-bellied laughs, but it do anything to jog his memory.

“Tony and Rhodey?” He said with an uncertain waver.

“Holy shit. Holy shit you will never live this down. I will never let you live this down. Rhodey remind me to remind Peter about this every day for the rest of our lives. I forgot you have this weird homeschooled vibe going.”

“I was not homeschooled!” Peter said hotly wanting to get the conversation over with.

Tony nodded at Rhodey who leaned over the arm of the couch and picked up the hamburger phone. They ignored him when he muttered a demand for them to tell him and expletive.

“We told you, Peter. We haven’t just been sitting around these years.”

Rhodey finished dialing on the phone and hung it up. Nothing happened for a moment and another curse was on the tip of his tongue when the wall moved. His jaw dropped. The wall opened up. Peter couldn’t help but wonder if he was in the bat cave or something like it because there inside the wall in fancy, gleaming glass cases was the Iron Man and War machine suits.

Maybe he had hit his head or maybe Peter was out of touch because it was like the fog had cleared in his head. How had he never connected that? How had he not seen through it?

“Holy shit. You’re…What… Really??? I’m a dumbass.”

“You said it not us.”

Peter thought back to when they first met, the ease at which Tony broke free from that place with him in tow. Their means financially and knowledge of himself. It all made sense in a strange way but Peter couldn’t help the awe he felt. The strange fate he’d seemed to have fallen into. His family was special. They were heroes, something Peter always wished he was. But they were special not because of that but in addition to that. They had found Peter, cared for him from nightmares, sleeping and waking. He’d journeyed across time for them and they had waited for him.

Peter smiled and grabbed their hands squeezing tight. He felt the stirring of sand across his skin but ignore it. He was here now and nothing could stop them.

“Let’s do this.”

The tension hummed between them at all hours of the day, followed them and cloaked their actions in an ineffable awareness of what was to come. Instead of eating breakfast like they used to with a full table and laughter at every course, the table was laden with plans, serious discussion, and too few waffles. They whispered about that place; painfully went through their time there although that particular conversation left them all with damp eyes and heavy hearts.

The apartment, twisted with time and now with a new unfamiliarness, left Peter at ends with himself. He wasn’t moving through time anymore but time was moving through him. Plans were made and contingencies were cemented, and all the time Peter felt like he needed to fight, to let out a scream. They were so close but the biggest hurdle was left in front of them.

It unfolded like so many things in Peter’s life. In a blink of an eye they were in the suits they spent hours fixing. Red, gold and silver stood on the hill overlooking the lake. It was fitting, he supposed, to have the final showdown be there overlooking the icy waters holding the sand he’d fallen into.

They’d woken up to an alarm blaring through the apartment, invading the halls and the living room where they had taken to sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor and couch. With cold precision they got into their outfits hoping the suits would bolster their nerves and create an impenetrable strength.

Ross stood at the base of the hill, looking with a cool detachment at them. His white mustache stood out in the dust light along with the hordes of men on either side of him.

“You would do well to abandon any hope of success. You know you can’t win this fight. I know you can’t win.” Peter fisted his hands at his sides and took a step forward. Tony placed his in front of his chest.

“Careful now, Peter.”

“As my mother used to say,” Tony said projecting down in his confident airy manner. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good. You won’t get away with what you’re planning.”

“Time works mysteriously, doesn’t it? Maybe I already have.” Cold pooled in his stomach. Ross knew about the time travel but did he know how? Peter didn’t even know how it happened. They all tensed at the implications. Was their fight lost before it had even begun?

Tony growled under his breath. But it was Rhodey who remained silent in his calculations, almost too still until with a burst of movement his blasters ignited and he was off toward Ross.

“Rhodes! Shit.” Tony yelled. He was down the hill following his friend. Peter was frozen where he was. Heedless of his nerves and the will to fight, fear pooled in his stomach. It didn’t matter how many times they went over plans, how many hours they spent in anticipation. Something held him back for a moment. But a second was all it took. Rhodey impacted with the first man who protected Ross and Tony was right beside him before too long. They used every weapon and trick in their arsenal including the teamwork they’d honed through the years. Person after person rose up as they fought the previous down. All the while Peter saw that Ross was smirking. His cool, grey eyes watching with a sick glee as Tony and Rhodey fought on, tiring themselves out.

Peter realized he was playing with them. Using their battle for his pleasure. Ross’s eyes flickered up to where Peter was standing and then he pulled something out of his pocket. The metal glinted with the light of the setting sun and chaos around them. It looked familiar in its shape but Peter couldn’t quite place it until it was put into us. Ross moved like a feline, confident and strong. The men parted around him and razor fast he was in front of Rhodey. He plunged the device in his neck and Rhodey coughed, sputtering blood before falling without anytime to counter or defend himself.

Tony turned his head and let out a strangled scream. He swore at Ross and fought harder to get where Ross was standing. This time Ross let his opponent come to him with a smile on his face. Tony, emboldened by anger and despair, ran toward Ross not noticing the others were letting him through, not caring this was the plan.

Peter felt a shift of the sand around him and tugged against it harder, willing himself into movement. It was giving way against his efforts and as Tony stood in front of Ross, he was let free. Peter began running down the hill, breath stammering in his chest. He watched as Tony punched Ross, got the upper hand, and then witnessed as Ross smiled again, cold and deadly, before he spun Tony around and pressed the metal device against his neck. He whispered something to Tony before pressing it further into his neck. Blood ran down the corners of his mouth. Tony clawed the hands squeezing his neck. Ross pressed harder. Peter ran faster but he was too late. Tony’s eyes rolled back into his head. Iron Man suit and all, slipped out of Ross’s arm and fell to the ground.

Peter fell to his knees in front of his friends. Their eyes unmoving in unnatural stillness. He reached out his hands and placed them on their cold metal suits. How could they be down so easy? They were Avengers, they were fighters and they were gone.

He glared at Ross burning with anger. Ross’s smile moved not an inch. He stepped toward them and nudged Rhodey’s side causing his arm to flop over. Flashbacks of May’s apartment, f that day rose in his mind.

“Leave them alone! Leave me alone!” He screamed and tried to gather them away from Ross. Ross bent forward and plucked Peter up, too easily for any normal human. He sneered at Peter heedless of his flailing arms and dragged the metal down his side. Burning pain erupted in his stomach. His hands clutched at the wound, the blood beginning to drip down and staining his red suit dark maroon. Ross twisted the metal device in his gut before dropping Peter to the ground next to the two fallen Avengers.

“I don’t want you. I told you, Peter, death will always follow you. Time and space are no concern because of who you are and nothing will ever change what is to be. Have all your efforts ever changed anything? Look what happened,” He said motioned to them in his arms. “Your friends are dead and there is nothing you can do to stop it. I knew you were the key. We had planned for it to be done so much earlier, when Stark was going to die by suicide and James would fall and freeze in this damned lake but then something happened. You happened and nothing we did would change the outcomes. They lived despite our plans. But then we discovered you. It’s ironic you led them to their demise at the end when you worked so hard to save them earlier. I told you to remember those words, Peter Parker.”

He stared at the man’s grey eyes. The cold glint in them tinged with glory for his cause. To rid the world of two good men, two men who would do anything, including give their lives for their friends and the world. But Peter wasn’t the same boy he’d been in the apartment with May all those years ago. He had spun through time itself to get back here. He had traveled years and space to be right here. The sand spun around him and he knew it he could win. Peter believed everything had led to this moment.

Peter knew time now. Could see the hourglass in the reflection of those evil eyes. It was within his reach. Sand particles gravitated toward him like an old friend. The lake completely iced over behind them seemed to hum in Peter’s ears.

He hugged his friends closer for a moment. Staring at their empty eyes and faces devoid of a smile. Ross laughed at him, basking in his triumph and Peter took a deep breath. He held his stomach and felt the blood seep out of him. Death indeed did follow him through life, dogging his steps and shadowing him but he had to do something before it could take him as well. His time wasn’t over yet. He could save them.

Peter concentrated on the sand pieces around him, falling and settling on his person, and stilled it around him like a cloak only he could see. The sand floated there before he closed his eyes and concentrated on reversing its direction. The sand began falling upward. Peter poured everything of himself into the motion and prayed it would be enough.

He opened his eyes and could see as time reversed. Ross was laughing and walking away from him. He was standing and moving toward the bodies of Rhodey and Tony. And their bodies moved, they got up from their resting spots. The fight began again in knew. Peter watched himself run back up the hill before he walked to were Ross was, invisible to all in the cloak of the sand. He waited with a strange calmness until the sand stopped rising. He smiled when it fell down again and Peter let go of his concentration.

The urge to kill Ross grew strong. He stood behind the man who was unaware of his presence. The act would be so easy. It almost consumed him but then he remembered Ross’s words. That wasn’t the life he wanted to lead anymore. Death would follow him no longer. Peter drew back his hand and brought it forward with as much strength as he could muster.

Not even seeing who brought him down Ross crumpled on impact. Undignified and ungraceful, he fell to the ground. All the men froze where they were as their boss was suddenly not awake. Rhodey and Tony blinked as he, for a moment, was in two spaces at once. They jerked to look at the top of the hill where he was still frozen before, in a blink of an eye, he disappeared.

Tony punched the man in front of him before smirking.

“And I thought one Peter was enough.”

“The fuck is this?” Rhodey said finishing off the people around him with ease. Their confusion led to an easier fight and soon there were none left standing.

They ran toward him, each taking a side of his face in their hands. Their thumbs wiped under his eyes and Peter realized tears were running down his face.

“What happened Peter?”

“Are you okay?” They said at the same time.

“I’m okay, guys. I’m…” He gasped as his side pulled. The wound felt hallow and full at once. They all glanced down at his stomach. He peeled his hand away and felt a wave of dizziness overcome him. The blood was still there. It hadn’t been erased after all.

“You are not fine. We need to get him to a…”

Their words filtered out of his ears and something was weighing him down. Peter took a step forward. His knees crumpled but there was no impact. Arms enveloped him and the burning in his side disappeared. He smiled and sent a thankful thought to the lake behind him.

They were safe and alive, and for now it was enough. The sand cloaked him in a thin layer and Peter fell into darkness.

Thank you!

Next chapter Twenty-Two: Finale

#peter parker #tony stark #james rhodes #Rhodey #iron man #war machine #spiderman #avengers fic #avengers time travel #MCU AU #hourglass #time travel

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years

Text

Dead Man Walking (DonnyxFem! Reader)

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines

Let me know if you want to be tagged in these/have any requests :)

(Sorry it’s a bit long :/ )

Donny couldn't see anything in the room. The musty damp air of the abandoned inn wafted around, and was heavy after the rain, and the long day.

"Fuck you, Donny." You muttered, as he heard you storm up to your bunk.

He laid back on his bunk. He was pissed...

He didn't care enough to answer back...actually...he cared too much.

You, on the other hand, had enough.

You knew it had been your fault. You didn't need constant reminders and glares from everyone.

You and Omar were on a mission alone, together, which Donny didn't like to begin with. He tried to convince Aldo that letting 'the Russkie,' and 'one of the kids' alone was a bad idea.

It wasn't because you were trained as a Soviet spy. It wasn't because Omar was one of his closest friends, and one of the youngest....

In fact, he thought highly of both your skills as basterds.

That was just it...he thought too highly of you. He wanted it to stop.

He needed an excuse to stop loving you.

And when Omar got hurt on your watch, Donny took it as an opportunity to hide his heart away.

The basterds didn't take it too lightly either. Not even you were on your own side. You didn't try to defend yourself.

Only Omar did.

He constantly made jokes out of it. He tried to make you feel beter, because even though in the basterds eyes you seemed remorseless, Omar looked long enough to see the truth.

He was there when it happened. "They weren't there when it happened, it's ok."

"It shouldn't have happened." You had walked away from him after he'd been bandaged up, and made your way to your bunk. That was when you had enough of Donny's muttering, and told him to fuck off. You'd just had enough of the war.

In the span of three years, you had lost your family, your country, and one of your greatest gifts. You used to be a sharpshooter...

Donny muttered, "Fucken rookie."

You were no rookie to war, or to the double life. You were still a rookie to the basterd life. Although the basterds had only just gotten a hold of sergeant Hugo Stiglitz months before your arrival, and had all been 'rookies' themselves, some of then were not sure as to why the OSS sent you to them. You, despite your ability to speak a variety of languages, and a frighteningly profound knowledge about the enemy...you were a bit rusty when it came to shooting.

In fact, you were a terrible shot.

And the shot you missed that morning meant a nazi made his, and it almost cost Omar his life. You looked down at your knuckles. The skin was raw, practically shredded off. Your firsts were the only reason either of you made it out at all. Not that it mattered to them, given how badly Omar was hurt... In fact, you didn’t even let it matter to you. Your friend was hurting, and you really were convinced it was your fault. You snuck out, hoping to get some air without one of them being an absolute basterd to you... Donny didn't notice you leave your bunk.

Donny stayed up thinking about the incident half the night. On one hand, the basterds couldn't afford to lose anyone, and one mistake like that made him livid. How could you miss that fucking shot? ...On the other hand, he just never seemed to be able to get you off his mind to begin with.

"And another thing! I'm still your fucken sergeant, don't fucking talk to me like th...." He looked over to your bunk, and squinted. He was unable to make out the usual mass under the sheets.

"Y/n?"

You didn't respond.

Donny realized you were not in your bed, and got up to look for you. It wasn't normal...

He knew you were a light sleeper.

Spies usually were...

And although your espionage days were technically behind you, and you had the OSS' seal of approval, the basterds couldn't seem to bring themselves to trust you.

They didn't know you.

Apart from Hugo, you may have been just the biggest mystery among them.

All they knew for certain was your name, your rank, and that you were a Soviet spy that had been enlisted by the OSS and sent to fight with the basterds.

Why exactly, was never revealed to them.

If what they knew was really your name or one given to you for the sake of international security, they didn't know.

So really, all they knew for certain about you was that you were a former spy, a terrible shot, and a private.

Whenever they'd approach Hugo, he'd glare at them, and sit in silence.

When they appraoched you, and asked you about Russia, you at least smiled softly.

But you could never bring yourself to explain what happened to you...

Aldo knew just a bit more than the others. It was information given to him by his own general when you were first sent to the basterds.

Aldo himself didn't know the full story, but just enough to understand you.

He understood that as a trained spy, you were not an open book, and probably never would be...but he also understood you were not a person of many words because of what happened to you... What exactly happened was not revealed to him either.

The basterds had all gathered around Omar, talking about what happened earlier that day.

Donny walked toward them, hoping you'd be there. "Anyone see-"

"Sh."

He was almost stunned that Hugo had directed any sound toward him.

"What?"

"Aldo's telling us what he knows."

Donny asked, "About the russkie?"

Aldo overhead, and looked around, realizing the basterds were all gathered, "Russkies are on our side now, Donny-boy."

Hirschberg mutterd, "Barely..."

Omar rolled his eyes. "I told you. It's not a big deal. Y/n's trying her best!"

Smitty shook his head, "You almost died. It's a huge deal!"

Aldo grunted as he sat down. "You wanna hear the story I got, or not?"

Wicki hushed everyone and Aldo sighed and nodded, "Ok. Kid used to be a spy. You all know that. She speaks couple different languages. Some better than others."

Some of the basterds chuckled. Donny found himself giggling a bit, remembering how nice he thought your accent was.

"She was just a kid. Good at making and breaking codes, Soviets used her. Dropped her behind enemy lines three years ago, bout eighteen eyars old, used her since she can speak German bout as good as them two boys."

Wicki and Hugo nodded. They'd been stunned when she interjected on one of their brief conversations once, without a trace of an accent.

"Somewhere along the lines, communication got muddled, someone was a traitor, she got double crossed, and caught by the SS. They took that little girl as a POW, got her marked up."

Donny narrowed his eyes as his heart fell... He thought he saw something on your arm the day you joined them. You had made brief eye contact with him as you quickly pulled a jacket over yourself.

He then realized he'd never seen you without long sleeves on... You never wanted any of them to ask questions, and you never wanted a nazi to know what their brothers in arms had managed to do to you, or to recognize you.

Hugo looked up...he was once in a prison. He knew the extent of the nazi's cruelty...

It wasn't a wonder that you rarely spoke after that.

Aldo went on, "There was an operation run by the French. They were able to help some of 'em poor fuckers escape, she was with em. Soviets let the OSS take her since the nazis knew too much. Sent her to us."

Simon shook his head, still not understanding, "Why us..."

Aldo shrugged, "Story is she was a good shot, and a good ass kicker. Good at hand to hand combat."

Omar nodded as he rested his hand against his bandaged chest, "She fought that kraut to the ground. It was crazy...like...like watching the craziest bar fight you ever saw!"

Aldo chuckled a little, "Decent shot at point blank, though. Don’t know why she can’t make a regular shot. Them krauts did something to her."

Wicki nodded, deep in though, "So whatever changed her had to have happened at the camp..."

Smitty asked, "Yeah, but what happened? If she used to be such a good sharp-shooter, what the fuck happened? You can't lose your mojo that bad for so long..."

All the basterds had practical heart attacks when they heard your voice behind them. "What happened was I was shot point blank. Right here."

They turned around, and saw you tapping your right temple. Their eyes inevitably trailed up your arms. Your sleeves were rolled up. It was a humid night, and you never wore anything but long sleeves. A series of bold, black numbers permanently etched into your skin stunned them.

You raised your hand up, and pulled hair away from your face. For once, you would be giving them a full explanation, something a spy flike you was not accustomed to.

"I'm blind in my right eye. Deaf in my right ear, too."

"What?" Omar was shocked. They all were, looking to you for a better explanation.

"I'm half deaf and half blind. I lost my depth perception. I was a sharpshooter over a year ago. The only shots I can make now are point blank. I can't hear the things I used to, but I can read lips in five languages, which comes in handy more often than you'd think. I've also become skilled at throwing grenades, and hand to hand combat. No, I didn't let Omar get hurt, no I didn't miss the shot on purpose."

Omar smirked a little, "What doesn't kill you makes you a basterd."

You smiled a little, though you still wished he hadn't gotten hurt at all.

The basterds understood after that, but they started to call you a jinx for a while, as a joke, of course.

Until...the basterds sort of jinxed themselves. Months passed.

You and Omar once again found yourselves at the hands of the nazis...This time, Donny was tagging along.

They couldn't say you didn't warn them.

The three of you had been walking.

You recognized a man walking by.

He was the same one that tortured you day in and day out when you were a prisoner.

You froze for a moment. You didn’t need more than that to make sure it was him. You could never forget his face. You reached for your gun.

Donny nudged you, "C'mon kid, we're gonna be late."

"That one."

"What?" He looked at you in confusion, waiting for an answer.

You half turned, and Donny glanced up, and watched the man walk down the street. "What about him?"

The man was in civilian's clothes, so to Donny, he looked as just that. A civilian. He frowned and pulled you aside, "What's goin' on?"

You looked up, and Donny looked into your icy, angry eyes as you glared at the man, and muttered "Dead man walking." Donny knew what that meant. All the basterds did. When you knew someone was undercover and an enemy, you would mutter it. It happened to have been the very first thing you learned in English...

Omar looked over, and stopped.

He trusted you.

It was then that Donny understood why he could practically see the rage through your eyes, when you usually kept your temper in dangerous situations. He clenched his jaw, eyeing your covered forearm, then glancing at the nazi.

But it was too late by then... The nazi had recognized you, too. He never could forget your face either. You were ‘the one that got away’. You were surrounded, and had no escape.

It turned into a Mexican stand-off.

Most of the guns were aimed at you: All the nazis wanted to get rid of the basterds, of course, but this one in particular had a vendetta against you.

His whole team knew your story.

The spy that should have been dead turned basterd, and was a menace at close range.

After your escape from the camp, there were orders that you were to be killed on sight.

Still, the men in that post had unfinished business with you. "Drop the weapons, or we kill the girl."

Six guns on you, one on Donny, and one on Omar.

Omar looked to his sergeant, Donny looked at you, eyes begging for mercy as he dropped his gun. "I'm sorry, Y/n.”

He knew you'd never forgive him for sparing you.

"Donny...no..."

He looked at you, and for the frst time you saw sincerity in his eyes. Usually he was cynical and indifferent toward you... But his eyes were soft as he murmured, "I'm sorry..."

The three of you were tied up, and forced onto a jeep, and thrown out somewhere in the forest.

The nazis moved away from you, and plotted it all out.

The night came, and you had all been silent for hours.... Until Donny muttered, "What're the fucken krauts talking about anyway?"

You sat and looked up at the stars, knowing what was to come, "How they're going to torture and kill us..." You had known for hours. And you had known exactly what they were going to do. And you knew exactly what it felt like. It wasn't anything you'd ever want Donny or Omar to feel...and you didn't want them to spend their last few hours in silent anxiety and hopelessness, so you didn't tell them everything you knew.

Donny looked at you, then the ground at your feet, at the earth that you should have been buried under long before.

He couldn't let you go through it again.

He couldn't let you die.

He knew what you lost, he knew you were young, and he couldn't let you lose it all.

He couldn't lose you.

You, on the other hand, were not willing to be a jinx. You were not willing to let the basterds lose Omar and Donny in one night...

You were a spy. Or, had been.

That's how you had learned to see yourself, a has-been.

You thought the world, the basterds, and the OSS could stand to lose you, but not them...

And as a fomer spy, you quite literally had a trick up your sleeve.

You used a small razor to cut through Omar's ropes, and then got halfway through Donny's before you heard the nazi's laughter get closer...

"Omar, go!"

"What?!"

You looked him in the eyes, "I'll run toward them. They want me, not you."

"We're basterds, we're bounty hunters dream ri-"

"They want me, Omar. He couldn't get me a year ago. He wants to kill me first." "But-" You didn't dare look in their eyes. "They're gonna take their time with me. Go."

Donny shook his head, "We stay together, y/n. This isn't a fucking debate. What are you fucking crazy?!"

Omar stared right back at you until you looked at him, "I'm not running without you."

"You're not running, you're giving Donny a chance." You started walking towards the clearing,

"But-"

You looked back at him. You pointed to his chest, over the scarring from an evitable bullet. "I owe you."

"Y/n. Y/n, come back! You don’t owe me shit!"

You gulped, shook your head, and looked Omar in the eyes, "Don't let this go to waste." You hesitated for a moment. And one moment only.

You looked at Donny one last time as he tried to break the ropes with his brute strength, trying to give you a fighting chance. "Y/n...y/n don't do this! Don't go! Don't fucking do it! That's an order!" You looked at Omar, ignoring Donny, and nodded once, encouraging him.

Omar started running, understanding that if the nazis came any closer, all three of you would die. He ran away as fast as he could to get help.

"Y/N, IT'S A FUCKING ORDER, I SWEAR!"

You looked to him, your soft eyes begged, "I'm sorry, sarge." You left him speechless as you left him alone. You turned and ran, to distract the nazis, give Omar a headstart, and Donny a fighting chance.

You heard Donny's voice behind you as the nazi's came into view.

"Y/N!"

They grabbed onto you, just as you planned, and never bothered to go check up on the basterds. It was you they wanted to kill. It was you they got.

They mocked you, "Dead man walking, Private L/N?"

They threw you down onto your knees, "Where are the others?"

"What others?" You looked up at your murderers.

You were struck with the gun. "The basterds. We have the Bear Jew, and Ulmer. Where are the others?"

"Fuck you."

"Where is your lieutenant, Aldo the Apache!? Hugo Stiglitz?! Where is The Little Man?"

"Who?" you were genuinely confused that time.

He barked at you, like a rabid dog...Some things never changed. "SMITHSON UTIVICH, THE LITTLE MAN, WHERE IS HE?!"

You smirked a little, unable to believe that that was his nickname. You composed yourself in a split second, "I don't know him."

"Do you want me to bring out the Bear Jew and Private Ulmer? Maybe seeing their blood and brains smeared on these fucking trees will jog your memory! I'm sure you're acquainted with them, after all."

You narrowed your eyes, "Who says 'acquainted' anymore?"

He lost his temper, and growled, "I'll take that as a yes."

You laughed in the nazi's face, eyeing the gun's barrel aimed directly at your face.

He laughed right back at you.

It was just like last time.

You were insolent, and defiant. You had been a thorn in his side for nearly two years. First because you never gave in to the interrogations, then because you refused to die. It seemed you had been the 'dead man walking' all along.

This time, he would make sure you wouldn't come back to haunt him.

He struck you again with the back of his gun until you struggled to stay on your knees.

Still, you looked him in the eyes.

He would never win, you knew that.

He could take your life, and a thousand more, but he would never win the war.

That was what made you smile, as blood trickled down your nose, and down your face from a gash on your forehead.

You looked him in the eyes, and it scared him.

He was horrified.

Only an unholy demon could face someone like him the way you did.

"That all you got?" You looked up, smirking as you caught your breath.

He spat, "Fuck you."

"Creative, I like it."

He growled as he took his knife, and tentatively slashed you across your abdomen "WHERE ARE YOUR FRIENDS?!"

"The girls? Moscow, probably. The boys are on the eastern front. I'll send them your regards!"

"Geh zum Teufel! I will send you to hell!"

"Fun. Imeyte v etom." You smirked. It was something you'd say to him every time the interrogation turned into torture. You would never tell them what they wanted to know, and you knew the nazi's cruelty knew no end. Therefore, you didn't know your end. Those had been your chosen last words. Russian, your language... and cynical, your specialty. Imeyte v etom: Have at it.

He shrieked in frustration, and pulled out his gun. "I WILL KILL YOU IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO."

You glanced down for a momrnt as you chuckled, and saw that blood was pooling throufh your shirt. "Do better this time." He glared at you, nostril flaring like a bull's, his eyes soulless and cruel like only a nazi's could be.

Blood was also dripping into your good eye.

This was no way to die...far from home, alone, and in the face of the enemy.

But, you smirked, knowing you never lost your dignity.

You pressed your forehead against the barel with a foreceful push, you spat some blood at him, "Finish the job, Herman. Imeyte v etom."

He clenched his jaw, and cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing, "I will, this time, dead man."

You smirked a little, looking up at him.

It was only fair for the last words he ever heard to be in his native language, you thought.

"Leiche."

'Corpse.'

His face contorted, puzzled over what your final words were supposed to mean. He knew that wasn't what you said every time you expected to die. He expected you to give one final denial, or one final dare. A protest. He expected you to say it in Russian, just as you always did. He expected you to silent defiance, just as you did the last time he 'killed' you.

Instead, you called him a corpse.

He didn't understand...

It delayed his kill, just for an instant.

And in that instant, you smirked a little, taunting him in his final moments, as he was filled with confusion.

That instant, that infinitesimal instant, changed your fate.

Just as he pulled the trigger, a baseball bat swung as his skull full force, the gun fell, and the bullet barely missed you.

Still, you had been dealt quite a few blows, and the deep gash across your abdomen wasn't much help. You had your life and your dignity, a strong temperance, but you were hurt... It was in the blink of an eye. The basterds emerged from the trees and bushes. In the blink of an eye, each nazi was either dead or screaming for mercy. A few basterds were already in the process of taking scalps...they had a debt to pay, after all. You looked up, your one good eye beginning to swell over in dull pain, blood still trickling down your forehead and nose, your wound stinging and burning. You stood up, and held your head up high. Once again, you had cheated death. You had laughed right in her face. Your soul had been salvaged once more. And yet, you wondered why, as you held onto your bleeding torso... The blunt thud of Donny's bat suddenly ceased, which snapped you back to the world around you. He wiped some of his sweat away with his forearm as he grinned at you, "Congratulations, kid. Takes a helluva a basterd and balls to do what you did. You're one lucky basterd." You looked at him... That was your answer. Donny Donowitz was the reason you were still alive...

Aside from the fact that he'd literally beaten your would-be-murderer to death...there was more to it. You saw it but denied it, after every single lingering glance, every unexplained smile... Sometimes he spoke a little softer when you were around. You'd noticed that, but you refused to take it into account. Donny...may not have been the brightest basterd, but he knew a thing or two. He knew your sharp tongue was a double edged sword. You spoke rarely, but when you did, you seemed to push him away at every chance. Sometimes, he did the same. Eyes could never lie, though.

There was something there... And it was the reason you didn't die in any of your lucrative missions, or in the POW camp, or that night. You found love...

Or maybe, love found you... Love was in Donny's eyes. His smirking pride vanished when he rezlies it hadn't been just a few hits. When he saw you stumble, your knees shaking, when the blood seeped through your clutching arm. "Oh, fuck! Y/n!" He let go of his bat, something he'd never done before, and held you up. "Is it bad? It's bad." "Not too bad." You shook your head...definitely having seen worse before. "You're bleeding, y/n! Aldo! Guys?! She's hurt!" You winced a little, but shook your head, "It's ok, Donny." "What?" He looked at you as if it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. Your blood was smeared on his arms, something that would never leave his mind. "It's not o-fucken-kay!" You smiled a little, looking up at him, "I've had worse. I'm not dead, am I?" Sometimes, he thought you were too easy going for your own good. "You're hurt, doll. You're bleeding. And I'm not leaving till I know you're ok. I'm not leaving, you hear that?" You nodded once and smiled softly, "I hear you...kind of." He rolled his eyes, helping you down until help came... "Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, kid." He wanted to help you himself, but he didn't know much about medical things, and sometimes he didn't know his own strenght. He didn't want to risk hurting you even more. You looked up at him... Maybe you'd underestimated your wound...you realized that as the adrenaline died down, but looking up at Donny, you knew everything would be alright. It had to be. You had a reason to be alive, and he was looking right down at you. "What'cha smiling at?" He couldn't help but smile a bit himself. "Thank you, sarge." "Me? What did I do?" "I'm only alive because of you and Omar." He shook his head, "We're only alive cause of you." "Thanks, Don..." He looked down at you, and realized it all... "Hey...hey kid?" "Yeah?" You realized something too....before that, he never called you anything other than 'the russkie' or 'the spy.' He'd been calling you 'kid,' and even if you were half deaf, and half dead, you could've sworn you heard him call you doll at some point. Donny, at that moment, realized he loved you... As Andy and Hirschberg arrived to help you, he stood back. But he never let you out of his sight. Not again. Life gave you a second chance, he didn't want to risk losing you. As much as you both loved ridding the world of nazis, and fighting side by side, and living a basterd's life... a wave of relief washed over Donny the night the basterds ended the war. A nazi's bullet would never be near either or you again. There was no need for a bloody baseball bat. There was no need for you to be close range to nazis day in and day out. There was no need to ever be apart. And you never were again. A former spy, and a basterd: Two undisputed war heroes, who did the impossible to stay alive and stay together, somehow stayed in love after years of denial and danger. Somehow, your second chance to live became Donny's chance to love.

#Inglourious Basterds #inglourious basterds imagine #Quentin Tarantino #aldo raine #donny donowitz x reader #Donny Donowitz #the bear jew #Omar Ulmer #Wilhelm Wicki #hugo stiglitz #smithson utivich

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