#and 2 reading the first chapter of dear comrade

[1000punks]

Of Paradise For Hell (Part 1)

masterlist. || read on AO3

pairing: Haarlep x named!Tav (non-binary OC) / eventual Haarlep x named!Tav x Raphael

warnings: 18+. nsft. mdni. obviously spoilers for act 3 (house of hope). very slow burn but they're naked the whole time. a later chapter will contain consensual somno.

word count: 2, 993

named!Tav is my non-binary tiefling ranger, Festé. i was seeing far too few fics with tiefling!Tav and i thought it was crucial, nay, critical to include them in the headcanons. i hope you all enjoy! ♡

Today had been a frustrating and long day. Festé and the others had finally succeeded in rooting out Orin's lair and clearing it of Bhaalists. They would save the Bhaalspawn herself for the next day, retiring back to their rented rooms for the night.

As Festé was crawling into bed, however, they found yet another one of the envelopes, this time a deep crimson, tucked halfway under their pillow. Understandably, Festé's nerves were frayed, having been the one to find all of Orin's little "gifts" in their camp since she had first appeared before them in Rivington. Looking around nervously, they picked the envelope from between the bedclothes, swallowing and flexing their fingers cautiously before tearing it open from the corner. Festé held their breath as they all but tore the stiff parchment from inside, scanning it quickly and relaxing exponentially when they recognized the script. Not Orin's messy, chaotic hand, but elegant, sloping Infernal. Meant for their eyes only.

He will be gone for half a tenday. Stay with me. Don't make a mess getting here or it will be your soul as well.

Festé sighed in relief, letting out a half-chuckle at the prospect of him owning their soul. They knew it would never come to that, he was far too infatuated with the chase of it all, the theatrics. They looked up and around once more at their sleeping comrades, hastily scrawling their own note that they would be back in the morning. They could only be so reckless when there was a shapeshifter on the loose, after all. Festé grabbed their cloak and stole out of the room, quiet as a mouse, you could say.

They arrived in the now-familiar castle, breathing out deeply and pausing to feel the warm air of Avernus enveloping them, almost nostalgic for it. Unlike the others, especially Karlach, they embraced their short trips to Avernus - now, it was like coming home. Ever since they made their unofficial agreement with Haarlep, it was their nearly-private refuge.

And the agreement wasn't anything like what he wanted from them, they shivered involuntarily at the thought as they crossed the antechamber quickly, their armour making soft clinks as they picked up speed.

"Come on now, don't seem too eager, you dolt," they muttered, trying to shake off the excitement and the nerves as they reached the doorway of the Boudoir. They halted suddenly when they saw Haarlep's all-too-familiar frame, biting into their lip. Would it ever get easier, they thought, would the sight of him ever fail to make them feel so weak and lightheaded?

"There you are, little mouse. And dressed in such fine armour, no less. I hope … " Haarlep trailed off, reclining in the bath and flashing a grin, putting palms together over the surface of the water, "… I pray … that you didn't come here to fight, dear one." Festé only rolled their eyes playfully, relaxing their stance at the doorway before slowly walking into the room, their eyes fixed always on the incubus. Haarlep cocked an eyebrow as Festé reached for their longsword, unsheathing it in one motion before setting it on the floor, straightening up and matching Haarlep's wide grin.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Haarlep…" they drawled softly, reaching back to loosen the straps of their armour, lifting the plate over their head and letting it clatter to the floor as well. "I wouldn't say no to some, er, help with my boots and breeches though." They met Haarlep's eyes once more, their confidence faltering as a blush crept over their already rosy skin. Haarlep had sat up in the water almost silently, wings unfolded halfway and dripping softly.

"No, no, little mouse. Tonight you undress yourself, and come to my lap. I've already poured the wine for you." He gestured to their legs with an open palm, his gaze raking over their body already.

Festé's blush deepened, relenting easily under Haarlep's gaze, holding it with their own as they kicked their boots off one by one, bending to tug their breeches down soon after, raising their eyebrows as a silent plea. Haarlep always knew what to say to undo them, but was not forthcoming this night. Festé steeled themself and, underclothes be damned, treaded slowly into the water. They couldn't let Haarlep win all the way, could they?

"Now pet," Haarlep tutted, reaching out to hook one of the straps of Festé's bra off their shoulder, "You know I meant all the way." He purred, sitting up further and gathering them into his lap, forcing them to straddle his thighs and letting his tail snake up their back, pushing it's way under their bra slowly as he chuckled. Festé suppressed a shiver, not wanting him to win. Not yet. Haarlep, content with teasing them, turned and reached for the goblet of wine, pressing it gently to Festé's lips with an encouraging look, ready to pull away if they refused, but knowing they could not resist.

Festé caved on that front, a little too easily, and drank deeply, the wine warming them from the inside out. Haarlep silently set the goblet aside, replacing his tail with his hands on Festé's back as he leaned close to their ear, breathing hotly, "Very well, I can see that you're too stunned to speak in my presence, dear one." He loosed their bra from their body, letting it fall away in the water. "I hope that my … expertise - " he growled from his chest, eliciting the softest of moans from Festé's lips, "will loosen your tongue as it has a good many times before. After all, you little imp… " Haarlep clawed down their back slowly, as if carving his next words into their flesh, "what hath night to do with sleep?"

Festé pulled back and looked up at him dazedly, bringing their hands to his chest, their gaze now fixed on his lips like the old romantic they had always been. Haarlep leaned back, forcing them to press themself closer to him and knowing that the wine was doing curious things to them, particularly their heartbeat. The needy whines would start soon enough, he was sure, and trailed his fingers lightly up their back.

They both sat like that for a while, Haarlep tracking how each of his slow, gentle movements made Festé's breath hitch, finally taking his hands off their skin and chuckling when their hips shifted, their head shooting up from its place on his shoulder.

"Haarlep, I-I'm - " they breathed out a sigh of despair, rolling their hips forward slowly and relaxing somewhat at the relief it seemed to give them, if only momentarily. "What have you done to me, you godsforsaken incubus?" Their voice shook almost imperceptibly as they lay their head back on Haarlep's shoulder. Festé's breath was hot against Haarlep's neck, and it was almost enough for him to take pity and give them the relief they sought.

Instead, he gripped their hips tightly. forcing them to stop with a purr, "Why, only what you agreed to when accepting my invitation, little mouse. the cat is away, and that is our cue to play, is it not?" Haarlep moved one hand to Festé's chin, tilting their head up and leaning close, "My intent is to undo you completely, I want your inhibitions low, your guard down. I want you to prove to me - " he paused, brushing his lips over theirs, the sudden heat making Festé flinch, " - that your body belongs to me."

Honeyed words, Festé thought, tilting their head and pressing a chaste kiss to Haarlep's lips, but part of the dance nonetheless. They sat back and studied his face, willing their hips not to move as they panted out, already desperate for release. They flashed the incubus a cocky smile against their better instincts, knowing it would be used against them later. "You," they rasped, "have to take it from me. You … have to make me lose control."

All it earned them was a hearty laugh, a deep belly laugh that echoed off the stone walls of the Boudoir. Haarlep adjusted his grip to their jaw, squishing their cheeks firmly and leaning down to lick up their neck, growling softly, "I wish it were more of a challenge, pet. Even with your 'superior' instincts, you make it so deliciously easy for me." He pushed Festé back from himself suddenly, enjoying the fleeting fear that flashed across their face, paying no mind to the water splashing around their two bodies. "Get up, pet. It is time you let old Haarlep lead you to ruin."

Festé scowled, defiance rising in their chest at his implications, settling themself firmly on Haarlep's thigh and starting to move their hips once again. Starting to shake as the wine bolstered their already growing lust for the hateful incubus. They moaned brazenly now, their eyes glazing over and their mouth falling open, resting their cheek to Haarlep's palm as he slowly released his grip on their jaw. They knew that with a snap of his fingers, he could have them bound in chains or completely nude, but the moment didn't come. Perhaps it was a testament to the devil's self-control, or simply that he was enjoying the show. Festé guessed at the second one, feeling Haarlep's free hand claw up their back once again, harder, more painful as he pulled them in for a hot kiss, molding Festé's shape against his own. The kiss grew deeper, Festé's moans muffled against Haarlep's silver tongue; and they grew more desperate, grinding their hips more firmly, chasing their pleasure along his thigh. They almost didn't notice Haarlep's arm snaking around their waist, crushing them closer.

Haarlep's wings flexed once more above the surface of the water, dripping softly for a moment before propelling both of them into the air. He broke the kiss first, laughing his deep laugh once more as Festé choked back something between a scream and a whimper. The momentary fear and the loss of contact left them a clinging mess, wrapping their arms around Haarlep's neck tightly and growling, "Usually the art of seduction doesn't include trying to kill the object of your desires, Haarlep!"

Their trajectory suddenly changed, Haarlep was pushing their body below his as Festé looked up at him in abject horror, earing only a chuckle in return as they careened back toward the floor. They prepared themself for the inevitable pain, when he would break them, quite literally, on the hard stone below. But again, the moment never came. Festé's back hit the soft cushion of the bed instead, Haarlep's body instantly covering their own like a blanket. He pinned them gently but effortlessly as they tried to catch their breath. His hands closed around their wrists like manacles as he towered over them, smirking widely. "Fear, in a healthy dose, is an excellent seduction tool, precious little lamb. You know your dear incubus would never let this beautiful body come to any real harm, don't you?"

A look of concern, real concern, passed over his face as he stroked Festé's cheek, waiting for their reassuring nod and shudder at his touch before he ghosted his fingers down their neck, moving them even more lightly down their sternum and stomach, allowing them to arch up to his touch before laying over them, whispering to their ear, "And you know our safe word, pet?"

Festé nodded once more, this time letting out a whimper at the heat of his skin on theirs, squirming under him and knowing it was useless. His grip on their wrist tightened, his palm pressing into their stomach firmly. "Say it, pet. I want to make sure you remember." His tone was playful, but commanding.

"P-precor … " Festé stammered against his neck, and suddenly the pressure on their stomach was released, replaced by the slow, teasing touches they had grown to love so much. Haarlep truly had a way with melting all the tension out of their body, as well as stringing them so tightly that they feared they would break. It contrasted so well with his touches that the two together would surely make them burst.

Haarlep broke them out of their reverie by slipping his hand down the front of their underwear, kissing them softly and chuckling, "Come now dear, you have the look of someone who is realms away. Let us bring you back here to Paradise… " And indeed, he did, Festé's lust for him rising too easily as he began to tease over their clit, his gaze fixed on their face.

Festé was long past pretending now, long past holding back their sounds from the devil. This was a battle they could never win, and in truth, they were glad to lose it, every single time. They strained against Haarlep's grip on their wrist until he relented with a playful sigh, only allowing them to prop themself up on their elbows as he continued his slow, heated touches between their legs.

"Please, p - unh … Please, Haarlep… kiss me… " it came out as a sighing moan, and the incubus was only too pleased to indulge them, leaning down and locking their mouth with his own, gripping the back of their neck tightly and giving them no escape. Festé returned the kiss with vigour, daring to lick into his mouth and earning a bite as Haarlep pressed his weight down on them. He slowly drew his fingers through the growing slick in the tiefling's underwear, withdrawing his hand slowly and spreading his fingers over their lower stomach. Festé could only whimper as Haarlep gripped their thighs, drawing them around his waist while he deepened the kiss.

The incubus' self-control was, once again, astonishing to Festé. They drew him closer with their legs, pressing their hips up to grind against him slowly, breaking away from his lips to moan against the shell of his ear before moving to bite down his neck. Haarlep betrayed a low groan in response, resting his full weight on top of them with a relaxed sigh. His hips slowly began to meet Festé's rhythm as his hands smoothed up their sides. He wouldn't ever say it out loud, but he enjoyed a little care being taken with his needs as well. He keened at Festé's particularly hard bite to his shoulder, his wings spreading above them both instinctively.

Festé chuckled softly against his heated skin, looking sideways up at him before sucking a deep bruise into it, their hands massaging the spot just under his shoulderblades. Haarlep shot an uncharacteristically tender glance down at them, moving to press them down against the bed with a soft laugh. "Such a sweet pet you are. But… " he traced a single finger over their bottom lip lightly, "I want to show you what Haarlep's mouth can do, my dear." His voice was a little sharp, making Festé smile and suck at the tip of his finger, pushing their luck just a little further.

It was to no avail, he was already working their underwear off their hips, meeting their eyes and clawing down their stomach. With a wide smile, he forced their thighs apart, running his thumbs along either side of their precious slit, humming his approval at the gasp they sucked through their teeth. "It's just as I thought, little mouse," he whispered, his face going slack in mock seriousness, "You find me so utterly irresistible, don't you, sweet … little … dear … " Haarlep punctuated the last few words with slow kisses over Festé's chest, pausing to suck deeply at one of their nipples and all but ignoring the near-scream they let out above him. It merged with the softest symphony of whimpers as he moved down, planting hot kisses to their stomach and hips. Festé threw their head back, trying to even out their breathing as he kissed the insides of their thighs. At the first lick, their hands shot to grasp at his horns, and the second had them letting out a throaty moan, rolling their hips up to meet his mouth.

Haarlep paused, holding their hips for a moment before squeezing them tightly enough to plant bruises, burying his face deeper between their thighs. Festé could only respond by tugging at his horns more insistently, trying to find a rhythm with their hips once more. Haarlep wouldn't allow it, digging his nails into their flesh hard enough to draw blood. Festé looked down, a little shocked with the pain, but nodding breathlessly, relaxing into the feeling that began to build low in their stomach. Haarlep kept his eyes on theirs, cocking an eyebrow as they started to stifle their moans, and finally moving one hand to their stomach, pressing firmly as a final warning.

Festé finally relented, moaning deeply ad they looked into his eyes, no longer able to follow the individual movements of his tongue as the licks and sucks became too intense and began to blur together in a crescendo of heat. They went limp, finally breaking for him. Their moans echoed off the stone ceiling as they pressed their hips up shakily. Up to his touch, his mouth, shuddering and twitching above him as well as against his lips.

"Thank… thank y-you, Haa-ahh - " they clenched their teeth around another moan as they felt two of his fingers slide easily inside them, Haarlep chuckling deep in his chest as he continued to lick at their clit, soft as you please.

Except that Haarlep suddenly looked up, his mouth glistening, and seeming to notice something that Festé could not. He never stopped his fingers as he listened for a moment. "I have a surprise for you, little one," he whispered, leaning up to press kisses against their neck, nuzzling their skin as he slowly worked them up again. Then finally, in the moment before Festé came undone for him a second time, they heard the footsteps.

A/N: heyyyy! couple of things

1. i know this seems super self indulgent, and it is! i wanted more time with the damn incubus and his damn demon master

2. i know Haarlep has been accepted as non-binary by the fandom, assume this is masc!Haarlep and consider it being easier to use he/him for them to not confuse what they're doing with the other non-binary they/them doofus- it's just for clarity and ease of reading, lovers please don't come for me :'D

3. Festé is pronounced "fest-ay", it's a name i got from a character in twelfth night- the fool. Festé is a fool and in my bg3 file they are an astarion truther. you can see where i'm going with this: they're a "i can fix him" girlie

#.txt #.fic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #haarlep x tav #haarlep x named!tav #haarlep x raphael #raphael x tav #raphael x named!tav #haarlep #raphael #fic: of paradise for hell

[junko-en0shima]

Under Her Spell - Pirate! Eddie Munson x Mermaid! Reader (Pt.2)

Summary: Eddie tells his crew about you, but they don't believe it at all... until a letter from you is found.

Warning: angsts (there will be a few more chapters, so it will have a happy ending, I promise).

A/N: Hi, babes! I wanted to tag some people that requested to be tagged in pt.2 so @rockautumnfanfic @cherrycolas-things @moonyinthewonderland @cyberghost1009 enjoy! ^^

*Comments and reblogs are appreciated!*

Eddie couldn't think of anything else, but you and only you; he even lost sight of his first goal.

"She was beautiful, the most precious creature I ever saw in my life." He was telling the crew about what he saw that night while they were hiding from you and your fishy friends, craving love from a jolly sailor bold.

Dustin looked at him and then at his mates before to burst into the strongest laugh Eddie ever heard from him; Steve and other kids bursted as well.

"What's so funny?!" He asked, pulling out his sword.

"Do you think we believe you saw a giant female fish talking to you?" Dustin kept laughing by himself as the others realized Eddie could have fallen under your spell.

"You told me first!" Eddie protested because it was him and Jeff to be afraid of mermaids first and now they didn't believe that anymore.

"Did you fall under that fishy girl spell?" Steve asked, his hands on his belt and a serious look painted on his face with worry.

"Don't talk shit to me, Harrington! I, Captain Eddie Munson, would never fall for a stupid love spell! My heart is devoted to the treasure we've been looking for over four years and only to it."

"Whatever you say." Steve gave up.

"Hey, what's that?" Dustin motioned his mates to come to see as he spotted a floating bottle in the water.

Everybody went to see and they were shocked.

Who could've thrown that, some castaway stuck on an island asking for help or some clue meant to guide them to the treasure... or was that from you?

Steve picked it up with a fishing net and noticed a piece of paper through the glass; he removed the cork to pull it out and give it a quick read before to hand it to Eddie.

"For you, man."

Eddie looked at Steve concerned, then his eyes directly fell on the letter; he was surprised none of the words faded away with water, was that written with some sort of magic ink?

But his eyes widened when he noticed your sign at the end of the paper, realizing that letter was from you.

"My dear jolly sailor bold,

though we've been looking into each other's eyes for just a second, my heart is devoted to you and only you now. I'm grateful to The Bloody Moon and your boldness for guiding you to me. I can't wait to see you next time; in the meantime, I'll sit down and count all the shells under the sea, waiting for you. Oh, I also drew a map behind this paper that will guide you and your crew to the island you're looking for. Tonight me and my comrades are going to emigrate to north; whatever you need a guide, you can find me there. They don't trust humans at all, especially pirates, but I do; I know all you guys are looking for is gold, jewerly and anything precious existing in this cruel world. I hope we can greet each other tonight,nI swear to Neptune I'll try my best unbestknowning of them. I love you, to The Bloody Moon and back.

Sincerely yours,

- (Y/n)."

"Well, guess we should've believed him from the beginning." Dustin kinda apologized.

"See, I told ya'- hey!"

Erika stole the letter from him and read it as well. "Looks like love at first sight." She commented.

Eddie took his love letter back and held it close to his chest. "I swear on Dustin's mother she's real and I'll show you, tonight!"

"Oh, I can't wait." Steve rolled his eyes and crossed his arms to his chest.

When night fell, Eddie tried his best to keep the whole crew awake to wait for the next Blood Moon to introduce you to them.

Jeff gave up and fell asleep and so did Gareth... before Eddie stepped heavily to wake them up.

Now that they all were awake, they waited for a few seconds before the red light of the moon shined against the water to reveal a pack of mermaids swimming against the tide.

The other members of the crew gasped; they had no words to describe the magnificence of the event, but Eddie smiled as his eyes looked for you through the pack.

Suddenly you left the pack to swim up to the surface to meet his sight.

"Hi, sweetheart. How you've been doing?"

"I was sad... until I found you waiting for me."

Eddie could swear, his heart felt like a beating mess like it was about to pop out of his thick chest.

"This is my crew, darling." He pointed at the kids and his first mate.

"Nice to meet you all." You smiled at them.

"Nice to meet you, (Y/n)." Erika greeted you happily.

"You were right, Eddie." Dustin admited. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

"Consider yourself as forgiven, Henderson." Eddie accepted his apologies.

At that point, a lantern lighted up in Erika's head and she tried to ask: "Do you think you can guide us to the treasure?"

You took a few seconds to think about that... until you felt a hand grab your wrist and squeeze so hard; you forgot you were under the orders of the king, the one who guided the pack, he didn't trust the humans at all and what was worst is that he was your father.

"How many times have you been told you don't have to interact with sailors?!" He yelled, squeezing your arm even harder, you felt like it burned.

"And you!" He turned to Eddie, Steve and the kids. "Don't you dare to approach my daughter!"

He pointed to the sky and a bunch of dark clouds covered it all like a thunderstorm was about to come and you disappeared underwater with your father, the king.

"(Y/n)!" Eddie screamed.

"I knew it was a trap!" Steve yelled as he tried his best to save their supplies.

Thunders exploded in the sky like gun powder and the rain suddenly begun to pour.

Eddie ran to the helm, trying to control the ship, but the waves were turning higher and it was impossible to control.

The biggest wave of them all, the biggest wave they had ever seen in a thunderstorm ate the ship and they were suddenly wrapped in the deepest darkness.

© alexandrawritesfics on Tumblr.

#stranger things #eddie munson #pirate! au #mermaid! au #pirate! eddie munson #mermaid! reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem! reader #pirate! eddie x mermaid! reader #eddie munson x y/n #pirate! eddie x mermaid! y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort

[nuttytani]

Farewell, My Dear Boomer Lord

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Tartaglia | Childe x Zhongli and Xiao x Aether

Premise: Genshin Impact is back with a new addition to their movie franchise, with a talented and an exciting cast. What are you waiting for? Come find out who they are!

A/N: This is a social media au fic, except in text form... Just crossposting it from my ao3 (which you can read it here if you'd like!!)

next chapter

Ch. 1 Breaking news! Farewell Archaic Lord to be released!!!

Genshin ✓ .  @ genshinimpact 

Who’s ready for the upcoming Liyue Arc? Get ready for the premiere of the movie, Farewell Archaic Lord on the 20th of January! Stay tuned to meet new characters. 

[ Attached : A movie poster with the Traveler wearing a white and yellow hanfu. Behind him are 2 looming figures in the back. One with bright ginger hair and the other a brunet. ] 

|  emily . @ meetemaaaa

Oh my god

| Jared . @ uuu2345

OMG

| Lemons . @ lifegivesyoulemons

Omg omg omg-

| HELLCAT . @ timmiespigeons

IT’S OUTTTTTTTTTTTTTT HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!

| Trailblazer . @ stelleeeeeee

DHIUHDIUEWHDIUHDEW GUYS GUYS GUYS, THE LIYUE ARC IS COMING OUT SOON OMG

|  xingqi . @ notanpc

Those dudes at THE BACK MARRY MEEEEEEEEEEE YAYAYAYAYAAY

|  Charlotte . @ therealcharlotte

FUUUUUUCK STEP ON ME DADDY- ESPECIALLY THE DUDE WITH THOSE GOLDEN EYES OMG HE LOOKS HOT DILF 

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Paimon ✓ .  @ paimonispaimon

Welcome, newcomers to the Genshin Impact fandom! Wondering what in tarnation this new Liyue Arc is? When and where can you watch this movie? Are there any previous parts? Well, look no further as I, Paimon, shall tell you everything that you need to know.

Genshin Impact is a fantasy movie series that follows the journey of its main protagonist, beginning with the first part titled "The Outlander Who Caught the Wind" (Mondstadt Arc for short) and now includes a follow up story called “Farewell Archaic Lord” (Liyue arc for short).

Traveler, who is the main protagonist, is thrown into a foreign universe and sets out to find his lost twin sister. As the story progresses, the traveler finds himself wrapped up in the troubles of each nation that he sets foot on (Quite the sorry fellow, don’t you think? He just wants to find his sister…). Each movie is and will be based on the nations that the traveler has been to and the nefarious plotting of villains. The storyline centres on the nations visited by the Traveler and the people that he meets along the way. I won't reveal any spoilers, so that's all I'll say for now. 

Unfortunately, as of this post, the Liyue arc has not yet been released — but in the meantime, why not have a look at the first movie? It is currently available on official streaming sites such as Hoyoflix, Adventurer+, Simulation World Prime Video and many more! And aren’t you the luckiest people, the Mondstadt arc is actually being played in the cinemas for next two weeks! Go grab your tickets now~

| Trailblazer . @ Stelleeeeeee

Ummmm you’ve literally mentioned nothing about the Liyue arc tho- “imma tell you all the things that you need to know” pffft 

| Caribert . @ dontlookinthemirror

replying to @ Stelleeeeeee 

OP doesn’t want to spoil the story for the newcomers, read properly before commenting smh. Plus, the movie isn’t even out yet??? What the hell is OP going to talk about??? Go touch some grass

| Pompom ✓  . @ conductorpompom 

Replying to @ dontlookinthemirror

The previous commenter is only joking, calm down 

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Genshin ✓ .  @ genshinimpact 

First teaser out for “Farewell Archaic Lord!”

[ Attached : Link for the teaser, thumbnail depicts a ginger man with long hair, wearing a beautiful black and red hanfu. He is holding blades made of translucent, water-like daggers. ]

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Katherine ✓ .  @ yourfavrobot

TEASER FOR THE LIYUE ARC IS OUT, LET’S BREAK IT DOWN, FELLOW COMRADES! (for those who can’t watch the video, don't worry, I got your back.)

First off, we see the traveler setting foot in Liyue and he wanders around. The locals are all flocking to the central area, some kind of a big incense is placed down and we see a few prominent figures surrounding it and bringing offerings. No names yet for the figures, but we have learned that one of them is referred to as the Tianquan (a lady with silver hair, wearing luxurious golden and phoenix patterned hanfu).

Scene cuts to ocean waves roaring down the wharf of Liyue like crazy (tsunami level crazy) while a man with weirdly glinting golden eyes, clad in dark brown and gold robes, sits on a dainty little seat and drinks his tea, amidst all the chaos. Mister - idk but why are you drinking tea in the middle of a natural disaster??? Questions, so many questions...

Scene cuts again, to a young man with ginger hair, wearing black and red hanfu (super pretty guy btw just who is the actor???). He swiftly moves around to give us a cheeky smile, teeth and all, and summons.. WATER BLADES! HE SUMMONS WATER BLADES! How is that even possible?! (movie logic ofc). 

All in all, I’m left with even more questions. The golden-eyed man seems suspicious - and so does the man with the ginger hair. Both dangerously pretty btw. 

| capybara. @ capybararara

This is definitely a teaser alright. Who are these actors? I need to know. Just look at them. I mean Mondstadt also had super pretty people like that cavalry captain with the eyepatch but BUT OOOOOOOH I SEE SO MANY MOMMIES HERE I LOVE I LOVE. 

| Otto . @ imnotluocha

Liyue basically feels like some xianxia au lol, not that I’m complaining. Look at all those impractical fanservice hanfu. That dude with ginger hair looks impeccable, also, why does he give off dangerous vibes?? Please don’t be a villain 

| Qingque . @ slackingoff

replying to @ imnotluocha

Yes villain. I’m all for sexy villains here.

| Kusogaki . @ i_am_god

Why is no one talking about the strange brunet? He could also be a villain, I mean look at those eyes. It doesn’t feel normal. Plus HE WAS DRINKING TEA IN A MIDDLE OF TSUNAMI. I don’t know if he is dumb or fears no one, not even nature.

| Trailblazer . @ Stelleeeeeee

YESSSSS TRAVELER IS WEARING HANFU TOO OMG OMG. I MEAN IT’S ALSO ON THE POSTER BUT HURRAHHHH HOT TRAVELER LESGOOOOOO AND OMG WHO IS THAT PRETTY LADY WITH BABY BLUE HAIR, OMG THAT SKIN TIGHT BLACK SUIT? Hoyo going wildddddd and all out ay? I’m all for it.

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Paimon ✓ .  @ paimonispaimon

Hello once again, my fellow friends! The major casting of the Liyue arc has been revealed, so let’s get down to business!

It is already confirmed that Aether will continue to play the role of the protagonist in the upcoming movie, Farewell Archaic Lord. For those unaware of Aether, he was a minor character in “Across the Skies and Stars” and gained popularity for his appearance in the first movie of Genshin Impact. He is active on social media and shares photos of himself, behind-the-scenes clips, and food. You can check out his profile here. 

—

[Attached : A clip featuring Aether flashing a peace sign and looking back] 

In an attempt to cheer up Xiao, who appears to be in a bad mood, the blond urges him to smile for the camera. According to Aether, they are both feeling hungry since they haven't eaten anything yet.

“How about we get some almond tofu?”

Xiao visibly brightens up.

—

We also have some great news! Xiao will also be part of the Liyue arc, marking his return from a 3 year acting break. For those who may not be familiar with him (how and why?), Xiao was the lead actor in Immortality and previously collaborated with actor/singer Venti on a few singles.

There are three talented actresses who will be joining the Liyue arc cast. Ganyu, Keqing, and Ninnguang. They are well known for their appearances in popular wuxia and xianxia dramas, such as Crimson Rain, My Fan Against Your Lips, and The Benevolent Shizun. You may have seen one of these well-known movies. Unfortunately, Ganyu and Ninnguang do not have public social media accounts, but Keqing is quite active. If you're interested, you can find her account here, where she mostly uploads vlogs.

—

[ Attached : in the video, the ladies can be seen sitting together while holding delicate clay tea cups. They are all dressed in stunning pastel-coloured robes with intricate embroidery. 

Ganyu

Mmh the tea is good! It goes well with the mooncakes.

Kenqing 

Tea hits the best after work, oh lord, that was such a long set.

Ninnguang 

Well, get your energy back because, after this, I've heard that we’re shooting till night.

The other two gasp in horror and quickly chug down their tea and stuff down mooncakes 

—

Now, the long-awaited Mr. two hot guys behind the Traveler. On the left, we have Ajax and on the right, Zhongli. 

[ Attached : A selfie of Ajax and Zhongli, they are both wearing their signature hanfu from the movie poster and have their arms around each other, smiling at the camera ] 

Both actors will be playing an important role in the movie. Of what? We do not know. You'll have to watch it to find out! 

Zhongli is a well-respected, world-renowned actor. He has won numerous awards for being the best lead and side actor — more than I could count with all my fingers combined! He recently starred in the box office hit called “The Legend of Nirvana” 

[ Attached : A clip, in which you can hear Ganyu and Xiao cheering for Zhongli as he walks up on the stage to accept the Oscar award ]

Ajax, on the other hand, is a member of the trio idol group, 68-11, and has no previous acting skills. However, his colleagues pushed him to at least audition for the Liyue Arc movie and he luckily landed a role. According to insider news, he brought the character to life and was what they envisioned of the character that he would be playing. 

If you're interested in finding out more about 68-11's music, you can check out the group here. Some of their popular releases are "Never-ending Performance" and "Ominous Fandango".  They’ll also be holding a concert in the coming month, so grab your tickets fast before they sell out!! 

[ Attached : A picture of Ajax signing an autograph for a fan while his colleague Kabu is mischievously seen making bunny ears behind the ginger's head ] 

We hope that this gave you some basic info about the new casting! Can't wait to see these talented actors on the screen. 

| Trailblazer . @ Stelleeeeeee

Thank you for the incredibly detailed post! Now watch me follow every single one of them, like and reblog every single post. Gosh they’re all so pretty.  Miss Ganyu tho, oh- she can step on me and I’d be so happy for it. 

Btw I’m watching Miss Keqing’s vlog as I type, SHE’S SO CUTE CUTE CUTE OMG gives me cat girl vibes istg

| March . @ nanokamadoka

Replying to @ Stelleeeeeee

Simp. Get a life 

| Albert . @ diehardfan

OMG BABY AJAX WILL BE IN THIS MOVIE!????? 68-11 fans, ASSEMBLE ALL!

#68-11 #ajax #kabu #rosaline 

| Tian . @ irontonguetian

I’ve been following Mr. Zhongli since his debut movie. It is so lovely to see him grow and be loved far and wide. Fighting! Mr. Zhongli! We love you!!!

| little luo . @ xiaoluo

Xiao is back from his hiatus! That’s such good news, awe. Missed seeing him so much! 

| Aether ✓ . @ aetherviator

I’m excited for the movie too! I hope you all enjoy it, as much as we all enjoyed acting for it :) 

| maricotta . @ idekat-thispoint

Replying to @ aetherviator 

OMG AETHER!??? WAAAA TT WHO SUMMONED HIM HERE, GUYS STOP, AND ACT DECENT IN THE COMMENTS PLEASE

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Spiral Abyss ✓ .  @ abyssalmoon

Premiere day of “Farewell Archaic Lord”. #GenshinImpact #Liyue Arc 

Lady Ninnguang “No words to explain how I feel today, we worked hard and at last, it’s here!” 

[ Attached : A clip of Lady Ninnguang speaking about her feelings on this memorable day. She looks absolutely stunning in her golden and white qipao ]

—

Welt Yang ✓ . @ mryang 

Had the opportunity to speak with Aether and Xiao on the premiere day of Farewell Archaic Lord. Wonderful actors filled with passion, I had a lovely time speaking with you both 

—

[ Attached : clip plays in which Aether and Xiao converse happily with Mr. Yang. Both the actors have donned a classic black tuxedo, looking impeccable as always ]

Aether

I hope they keep that scene 

Xiao 

Which scene?

Aether

You know, that one (does the eyebrow waggle) 

Welt

I’m afraid, I do not follow ???

Xiao

Oh don’t worry too much about it (Sighs and looks away. His ears have turned slightly red.)

—

Katherine ✓ .  @ yourfavrobot

So, many clips have been going around because of the premiere day of Liyue Arc. I, Katheryne, was able to speak with at least the majority of the cast members who were invited!! Have a look here, it’s now uploaded on my SeelieTube here

| Albert . @ diehardfan

Katherine is doing the real work here. Thank you for the food!

| Dan Heng . @ notdanfeng

Uhhh so, who else noticed the chemistry between Zhongli and Ajax ??? I mean, not to be a weirdo and no I have not been staring at their interactions for too long, it’s just a bit obvious that they’re… Ogling at each other???? Well, they both do look absolutely hot in their hanfus

| little luo . @ xiaoluo

You’re not the only one. But notice that the same goes for Xiao and Aether. These boys are barely able to keep their eyes and hands to themselves, smh. GET A ROOM, GET A ROOM!!!!

| Lumine ✓ . @ lumineviatrix

Replying to @ notdanfeng @ xiaoluo 

Yall got potatoes for eyes? Did you NOT see lady Ninnguang giving bedroom eyes at that eyepatch lady (that’s Beidou btw, for those who don’t know her)??? HELLO DUDES, PLEASE GET A ROOM, THIS IS WORSE THAN PDA 

| Caelus . @ IM_TRAILBLAZER_NOT_HER

Replying to @ lumineviatrix

First Aether, now Lumine too??? Helloooo where are you when there’s actual fun @ stelleeeeeee???

| Ajax ✓ . @ ajax11th

You know it’s serious when Lumine comments- 

| Albert . @ diehardfan

OMG IT’S AJAX!!! ASSEMBLE, 68-11!!

| Kabu ✓ . @ kabuki6th

Replying to @ ajax11th 

I think you just summoned our entire fanbase right here, dude 

| Rosaline ✓ . @ rosaline8th

Replying to @ kabuki6th 

Not that it’s a bad thing, but time to mute notifications. Not that mine weren’t on mute already. But you and Ajax should consider

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Trending 

#GenshinImpact 

13.7k posts

#get a room 

16.5k posts

#FarewellArchaicLord

#Lumine

Rosaline ✓ . @ rosaline8th

Why hello, little ones! I’ve noticed a sudden influx of followers recently, Idk where all of you are coming from but thank you for your kind words and support! And if you’re feeling extra generous, go shower Ajax with love because FAREWELL ARCHAIC LORD IS OUT IN THEATRES TODAY!!! 

| Keqing ✓ . @ keqing_night

PREACH 

| Aether ✓ . @ aetherviator

PREACH

| Xiao ✓ . @ almondxiao

… preach 

| Zhongli ✓ . @ zhongliballista

Preach ??? What’s preach ???

| Lumine ✓ . @ lumineviatrix

Replying to @ zhongliballista

YES, PREACH, GRANDPA!

| Xiao ✓ . @ almondxiao

Replying to @ zhongliballista 

You use the word “preach” when you feel the need to acknowledge or are in agreement of something that is well said

| Zhongli ✓ . @ zhongliballista

Replying to @ almondxiao 

Oh…I see… PREACH!

| Ajax ✓ . @ ajax11th

Replying to @ zhongliballista 

xD PREACH !!

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Paimon ✓ .  @ paimonispaimon

CONGRATULATIONS CONGRATULATIONS CONGRATULATIONS!!! Important things must be said three times!! 

FAREWELL ARCHAIC LORD IS NOW AVAILABLE IN THEATRES, GRAB THOSE SEATS NOW, BEFORE THEY’RE ALL RESERVED (if they aren’t already) 

| Katherine ✓ .  @ yourfavrobot

One word. PREACH 

| Caelus . @ IM_TRAILBLAZER_NOT_HER

I’m taking my entire fam alright!!!

| Caelus . @ IM_TRAILBLAZER_NOT_HER

FUCK THE SEATS ARE ALL GONE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

| Trailblazer . @ Stelleeeeeee

Replying to @ IM_TRAILBLAZER_NOT_HER

That’s what you get for being slow, lol, loser 

| Dan Heng . @ notdanfeng

Replying to @ IM_TRAILBLAZER_NOT_HER

Calm down, @ Stelleeeeeee already booked them in advance for us 

| little luo . @ xiaoluo

YESSSS IT’S OUT, GRANNY AND I ARE GOING TOGETHER WAHAHAHAHA

| Tian . @ irontonguetian

We all have been waiting for today, happy Liyue Arc watching everyone! Now… How to convince Master Liu Su to join me… Hmmmmm 

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Trending 

#FarewellArchaicLord 

40.6k posts

#GenshinImpact

38.2k posts

#PREACH

#whatspreach?

Trailblazer . @ Stelleeeeeee

That ending… was quite unexpected. Salt… And… Betrayal, how cruel

But other than that, what’s up with all the gay coded liyue characters??? That was a real surprise honestly, a pleasant one, of course. Bet it’ll be filled with certain clips once everyone catches on. 

| Keqing ✓ . @ keqing_night

:)))) gay coded? What do you mean ???

[ Attached : Image of the main Liyue arc cast, grinning like crazy ] 

—

It had been a couple of days since the movie was released in the theatres, and a few of the available cast were having a sleepover as a celebration for their hard work. Unfortunately, Ganyu, Ninnguang and Ajax were busy with some other projects and had to skip out on the get together. 

To pass the time, they were all catching up on reviews and comments left by the fans. One comment, in particular, caught their attention. "Uhhh Just me or did you guys notice Morax staring at Tartaglia's big cake... was that included in the script orrrrrr???" Everyone burst out laughing, with some even snorting and cackling.

Keqing, however, looked exasperated as she addressed the person in question. "Mr. Zhongli, you should have been more subtle, at least."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. What big cake? There was no cake anywhere in the movie," Zhongli replied with a huff.

Aether chimed in, "At this point, I wonder if you really are a boomer or if you're just acting innocent."

To which, the blond received an immediate smack on the head for his comment. The room fell silent before erupting in another round of cackling.

#genshin impact #tani writes!! #childe #zhongli #xiao #aether #zhongli x childe #xiao x aether #childe x zhongli #aether x xiao #xiaother #zhongchi #tartali #zhongchili #childe tartagalia #tartaglia #zhongli genshin impact #genshin social media au #liyue characters

[vapemaster42069]

Riptide, Or What You Will

Summary:

A Twelfth Night AU of JRWI: Riptide, written in imitation-Shakespearean prose: includes romance, confusing love triangles, strange gay tension, locking a man in a dark closet until he goes insane - classic Shakespear fun! FT. Chip as Olivia, Edyn/Gillion as Viola/Cesario, Jay as Orisino, and Niklaus as Malvolio!! You don't have to read the play to understand this :3

Each chapter is a scene, most scenes correspond to a scene in the actual play.

Chapters: 1-3/18:  Act 1 Scene 1, Scene 2, and Scene 3

Ao3 link:   https://archiveofourown.org/works/39228081/chapters/98153904#workskin

Cast List:

Viola/Cesario: Edyn/Gillion Olivia: Chip Malvolio: Niklaus Antonio: John Sebastian: Gillion Sir Andrew Aguecheek: Earl Toby: Lizzy Curio: Alphons Maria: Oliver Feste: Caspien Orsino: Jay

Text below the cut:

Act 1 Scene 1

JAY

Doth, the sun rises over the long dawn with teary visage.

One to mourn the pestilence of man

And the stoop of love that one man demands over his other, his heart passionate but fleeting.

My heart be on display. My friend, I beseech you

Allow my gentle abdication of gall to most passionate sense!

If even the earth beneath my feet may tremble with my leave

Let it be so as my heart too shakes with charge.

For I am known for a close impart and meager profession,

But mine heart hath met her imperator

And troth is one of tender proclamation.

ALPHONS

[southern] Will you go, my lady?

JAY

What, Alphons?

ALPHONS

To regain the shine of your eyes, lady. That your heart may be filled.

JAY

Why, if I must be the forthright of a gait, high and fantastical

To lead the weary heart to stream

With hope that perchance, it learns to swim.

As I drown with sweet proclamation

Most devoutly of my knaven senses

My love, my sweet, of Chip James.

When first I viewed his visage

Methought, he purged the air of pestilence.

That the element itself would cleanse but to a being most powerful

Even that one that I may move by my devotion.

My heart is already filled, dear Alphons.

Only one may free it of its heavy

Alphons

So please my lady, through the vine hath his gentlemen delivered word

Of his countenance.

Seven years, by the sun’s count

Like a cloister he will walk, veiled for sense of a lost crew

And a most downcast demeanor to behold him.

JAY

Oh, he that has heart of most gold

To pay such debt to the bones of lost comrades

And ere, live at once in their remembrance.

His sweet perfections!

Tho’ my sore heart troth to his beholding even still,

His face veiled shall walk, as duty is the calling of the noble.

Act 2 Scene 2

EDYN

What country, friends, is this?

CAPTAIN

Skullslice Port, fair lady.

EDYN

And what should I get to in this land?

Mine own brother he does sleep in the dark quietus.

His hair hath flowed among the corals

And his eyes as the scales of an angler shined.

Perchance he among the nobles did endure

And is not drowned – what think you, sailors?

CAPTAIN

It is perchance that you yourself were saved.

EDYN

Oh, my dear brother! And so perchance may he be.

CAPTAIN

My troth, I hope, lady.

EDYN

Who governs here?

CAPTAIN

The lady Jay Ferin, noble in nature as name

EDYN

I have heard my father name her. Most cunning,

The lady of the sea beckons the tidings of the Undersea

With her silver tongue and shining countenance,

Her father and she advocates of the dry land.

What of the lady now?

CAPTAIN

‘Tis fresh in murmur, the prattle of the less much fervent to serve the great sauce

That the lady did seek the love of the most fair Chip.

EDYN

What’s he?

CAPTAIN

A noble friend, entered into mourning for his compatriots for sight of seven years.

Departed has he from the gaze of men and women,

And character most clouded lingers about him.

EDYN

Oh, that I served him.

CAPTAIN

Aye, most noble, but the gentleman admits no suit.

No, not the Duke.

EDYN

Thine countenance wise, thine sense seems to me to be fair

My troth, I know not of this Chip but that I would serve him.

Help me, I prithee, that I may appear as a man before his court,

That my visage may be more to him as my poor brother than of mine.

Speak to him, bring him music of talent

That will allow me to be worth his service.

CAPTAIN

Be you his eunuch, and your mute I’ll be.

EDYN

I thank thee. Lead me on.

Act 1 Scene 3

ELIZABETH

Bruh why’s Chip being a bitch about this whole thing? He’s gonna worry himself to death if I don’t kill his annoying ass myself.

OLIVER

Troth, Miss Lizzy, you must retreat earlier o’nights.

Chip takes great gall to thine extravagance of the night.

He professed just this morning

The laws of modesty for the estate. He sends word-

ELIZABETH

What. The fuck? Why are you talking like that?

OLIVER

Like what, lady?

ELIZABETH

Like- fuck'n- all old and shit. Who even says troth anymore?

OLIVER

I know not what ye speak of, my lady.

ELIZABETH

I- whatever. What were you gonna say?

OLIVER

He sends me to beseech thee, that thy ease thine temperament of drink and folly before it undoes ye, as it does even the wisest knights. His poor mood suffers with worry for your gait.

ELIZABETH

Again, he’s just being weird. I’m older than him, that makes me more responsible. [burps] Plus, I brought a guy in I thought he’d like! He should worry about that, not my fuck'n drinking.

OLIVER

The man at the gate this morrow, my lady?

ELIZABETH

Yeah, Earl. Short dude, likes oranges, refuses to wear shoes?

OLIVER

He professed a most… impatient word, my lady. Chip was not much impressed by him.

Nor to his bare gait, spreading sticky dew across the fine floors

As oranges fell from his many pockets

That neither wise man nor fool hath located on his clothing,

Only a loincloth in such a manor as this!

T'was quite a show, my troth.

ELIZABETH

Wait why didn't he like him? He's uh. Charming? He makes good juice, has a good judge of character. What more could he want?

OLIVER

My lady, I do expect

That should the gentleman Earl be caught in a paper bag,

He should find great troubles to find his way out.

That is to say, he would a fool and perhaps a clown.

It's thought most prudent to keep one's distance,

Lest he with thine business problems cause

Or thine visage a duel demand.

ELIZABETH

Bruh, who's talking shit?

OLIVER

That I should not betray,

But they add, moreover, that he's drunk nightly in your company.

ELIZABETH

So? Life's ours for the taking, or something like that. What's wrong with a little fun?

OLIVER

Lo, I hear the scoundrel approach. Hearken to the elegant squidge of his toes on the marble!

[Enter EARL]

EARL

Lizzy! How do, bitch?

ELIZABETH

Don't tell me you're talking weird too. Did I miss a memo or something?

EARL

Fie be upon ye! That thy not engage in the folly of prose do speak to thine countenance.

ELIZABETH

Whatever. Y'all have gone insane.

EARL

And good morrow, knave.

OLIVER

Morrow, fair suit! Hath ye approached the gentleman Chip?

EARL

The saucy boy of the house? Yes, I proclaimed my purpose and most fair gait,

But the good man left mine own presence

For that of the knaves of the manor.

He hath... little folly for myself to spare, and no interest in my most excellent juices.

OLIVER

A shame, good sir.

ELIZABETH

L

EARL

Truly

OLIVER

Well, fare you well, friends. I must now retire.

EARL

Retire, boy, so early?

OLIVER

Aye, sir. 'Tis late of night, and I am dry of drink.

[OLIVER exits]

EARL

Well madam, I beseech thee,

Bring and proclaim thine sweetest fruit to me

That I may taste of it and ferment with my toes the natural flavors

As gift for his lordship.

ELIZABETH

What.

EARL

Fruit, lady, thine fruit. That I may caper. Mine dogs upon the fruit shall leap.

ELIZABETH

Yeah no I'm out, that's fuck'n weird. This some kind of kink thing or something?

EARL

Not implicitly, my lady.

ELIZABETH

Nope. Nope. I'm done. Night. Good luck flirting with the bastard boy. Maybe don't mention the toe thing. Weirdo.

EARL

Night. [retrieves orange from unknown pocket, bites with peel still on]

#jrwi riptide #just roll with it #jrwi #jrwi fanfic #jrwi fanfiction #i spent too much time on this hjhjkfsdhskjdsl #probably doesn't count as crack but it definately felt like crack to write #this gets progressively more unhinged the longer i'm writing it #gillion tidestrider #jay ferin #chip jrwi #jrwi chip

[quizzyisdone]

Guilty Part V | Female Bell! Reader x Adler

A/N: So I said before this is full of clichés, and it absolutely is. This was an utter blast to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. I think it tops part four in terms of my favorite chapter. All italics is dialogue spoken in Russian (1900+ word count)

Warnings: Strong language

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Nothing Else Mattered

Prague, Czechoslovakia

2300

August 31st, 1984

You reveled in the summer breeze as it glazed gently over your smooth, revealed skin, your loose hair flowing gently in the wind. The dress was a simple black, was elegant in nature and fitted you perfectly Adler, on the other hand, looked uncomfortably warm donning his Soviet uniform. 

“How do I look?” You asked Adler, fixing your makeup in a handheld mirror one last time.

“I was under the assumption that you didn’t give two shits what I thought?” He scoffed.

“Answer the question, asshole.” You rolled your eyes at his pettiness, even despite the fact that he had always tolerated yours.

“You look fine.” That was a lie in Adler’s mind. You looked absolutely beautiful, but his pride kept him from admitting that. “What about me?”

“Stuffy. But you look good in a uniform, even if it is Soviet.” You quipped with a grin. He suppressed the smile and nodded in thanks. Adler extended his arm, which you took. Part of the cover of being a married couple, of course. But it felt strangely natural as you leaned your body closer to him, smelling the scent of his familiar cologne, the same he had worn when he had kissed you so fervently in East Berlin.

“Didn’t expect a Soviet party to be so...fancy.” You remarked, gazing at the hotel's beautiful lobby, which was furnished in lavish couches and a lush rug laid on a marble floor, which your heels gave a satisfying clack with every step you took. The centerpiece of the lobby was a large, crystal grand chandelier that illuminated the room. 

“This man is a government tool. Of course they’d set him up in such a nice place.” He whispered. “Come, let’s go greet Ivanov.”

The ballroom was also a sight to behold, servers scurrying back and forth, offering samplings of food and drinks. Tall stained glass windows draped in velvet stood proudly among the people while soft classical music was playing over their chattering. You smiled in awe as you beheld the sight. 

Unbeknownst to you, Adler’s gaze had been lingering, watching you, with eyes more adoring than he’d care to admit. He smiled sadly, knowing those feelings might never be returned. It was a rare moment of tenderness, one that was interrupted as a Russian man called to Adler.

“Ah! My comrade, Alexei Rabinovich!” He shouted heartily, taking Adler’s hand in a firm shake.

“Mr. Ivanov, a pleasure, a pleasure! Might I introduce you to my wife, Vladlena?” He directed Ivanov to you, who beamed at your gorgeous figure.

“I must admit, I’ve heard rumors that Alexei married a rather pretty woman, but they do you no justice. You are radiant, my dear.” Ivanov complimented as he took the back of your hand to his lips, kissing it gently in greeting. “I trust you are enjoying the party? I hear it’s your first time here.”

“Very much, Mr. Ivanov. This place is beautiful, perhaps it even rivals Lubyanka before that awful disaster three years ago.” You remarked, glancing to Adler as he smiled knowingly.

“Ah it’s a shame that was. But do not concern yourself, it is a ball! I’m sure my wife would love to meet you while I get to know my rising star a bit better, yes?” 

“Of course.” You lowered your head in respect, detaching yourself from Adler’s shoulder, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Playing the part of an adoring couple was always easy with him. “Try not to get into trouble, my love.” You purred.

You left before he could respond, a blush rising in your cheeks. You cursed yourself, those feelings from all those years ago couldn’t rear their ugly head again. You couldn’t let yourself fall, not again. But your mind still wandered to the tenderness, the utter kindness he showed you in the car on the way here, how uncharacteristically gentle he was with you, like one wrong word or touch could make you shatter into a thousand pieces. 

You managed to find Ivanov’s wife making light conversation with a few other women. She beamed as she greeted you. If anything, Russians were welcoming to one of their own. 

“Ah, Vladlena, yes?” You nodded and smiled. “I’ve heard so much of you! A new face is always welcome here, dear.” According to intel, her name was Katya Ivanov. She offered you a glass of champagne, which you gladly took to clear your thoughts.

“I’ve heard a bit about you too, Mrs. Ivanov.” You lied, sipping the champagne. Katya placed a gentle hand on your shoulder as she directed you to the group she was conversing with when she first noticed you.

“Everyone, please meet our newest friend, Mrs. Vladena Rabinovich.” She introduced you, as the others in the group all smiled in greeting. 

“It has been awhile since I’ve seen a fresh face here, oh it does become quite boring.” One of them spoke, the woman was older, gray hair sprinkled in her hair that was tied in a simple knot. 

You engaged in rather boring conversation for a little while, nodding silently with a courteous smile as they spoke on matters you had no idea about. After awhile, you looked back at Adler, who, almost on cue, glanced back at you. He nodded and you listened to his silent order to excuse yourself.

“Excuse me, ladies, but I do believe my husband beckons.” 

“Of course, the real music is about to start. I hope you enjoy yourself.” Katya said as you departed. You had no idea what she was talking about, and a pit dropped into your stomach. Thoughts of them finding out who you were, shooting you and Adler to make an example raced through your head. You downed the rest of the champagne in a manner that would make the Queen gasp in shock at the uncouth nature of such an act. If you were to die, at least you’d be a bit tipsy.

You returned to Adler, a distraught expression only he’d be able to read. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you took the moment to whisper in his ear.

“His wife said the real music was about to start. Do you know anything about that?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing like that. We’re at a ball, Bell. What do you think people do at balls, hm?” He smirked. “Go put your glass down, it'll give us a good opportunity to talk.” Adler ordered, you did as you were told, handing your now empty glass to a butler. When you turned around, loud, classical music began playing from a band in the corner. Adler offered his hand to you, a nonverbal cue. 

You took it, smiling to keep up the cover. He snaked his arms around your waist, his hand joined to yours. You wrapped your arm around his shoulder and you felt heat rising up in his cheeks.

“You’re blushing.”

“Part of the cover.” You smirked, and he laughed heartily, harking back to the nightclub in East Berlin. This was the first time you had ever seen him laugh at something wholeheartedly, normally you could only ever get a chuckle or a smirk. “But, uh, I need to admit something.” 

His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“I don’t know how to dance.” You admitted as you lowered your head down in embarrassment, smiling as you looked back up into his baby blue orbs. How the fuck he could make you act like this was beyond you.

“I’ll show you.” He said softly as he bit his lip, a bit more affectionate than intended, a soft, barely noticeable grin. “You have the form right. Just sway back and forth with me, try to keep your steps in line with mine, and twirl when I raise this arm.” He wriggled the arm which held your hand. “Whatever you do, don’t step on my toes.”

“Okay.” You nodded. He pulled you close and you tried to keep in line with him. You were able to smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with cigarettes, it was the same cologne he’d been wearing for as long as you’ve known him.

“So, I was able to loosen Ivanov’s lips. Man’s a lightweight.” Of course, any sweet moment between you two was always interrupted with some mortal threat to the free world.

“What’d you find out?” You looked a bit disappointed.

“Chin up. Keep that pretty little smile on your face.” He flirted, a bit shamelessly. You took the opportunity to flirt back, forgetting everything that has ever happened between the two of you. It was like meeting him all over again. In that moment, nothing he’d ever done to you or you’d done to him mattered.

“You think my smile is pretty?” You shot back, the grin returning to your face. He rolled his eyes in mock annoyance.

“Anyway,” He avoided the question. That didn’t stop you. “I was able to ask him about Perseus, and he was able to tell me a bit about him, if a bit reluctantly. The intel from the body at the mall checks out, there’s a room on the second floor where he conducts meetings with Perseus himself, and he keeps a bunch of stuff in there. Should be an intel goldmine.”

“You never answered the question.” This newfound wave of confidence left both you and Adler dumbfounded.

“It’s hardly a question, but I think you know the answer to that.” He replied, smooth as ever, hiding his initial shock. Truthfully, you didn’t know the answer. He raised his arm and you took the cue to spin. “When the song’s over, I want you to excuse yours- Shit!” Adler cursed through gritted teeth, and you realized you had accidentally stepped on his toes with the heel of your shoe.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry Adler I-I” You rambled, sudden fear of him making its way back to you.

“It’s okay.” He reassured you. “That fucking hurt though.” Adler chuckled as he winced from the pain. “But when the music is done, which I expect it will be in about two minutes, I need you to excuse yourself and find the room, grab what you can, and get out. It’s restricted access so get creative.” You nodded your head.

“You know what, Russell?” His name uttered from your lips brought a beaming grin to his face.

“What?” He cocked his head. Everything outside of this moment had been forgotten, nothing else mattered.

“We haven’t argued or tried to kill each other.”

“Yet. The night’s still young.” He almost let your real name fall from tongue, but stopped himself, unknowing as to whether or not you’d appreciate it. He had not cared for the wishes or wants of someone since before he even met you. God, when did he become such a sap. 

You laughed. “True enough, I suppose.” 

A sudden wave of guilt washed over Adler. This didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel fair to you. He deserved your anger, your complete and utter malice. He didn’t deserve this tender moment. What did he do right to deserve that smile, that laugh that dripped like honey, smooth and sweet. In spite of that, he allowed himself one more indulgence, one more smile before you’d go back to hating him.

“I lied earlier, when I said you looked fine.” Your eyes dropped to the floor, waves of insecurity washed over you, expecting some insult. “You look gorgeous.” And with that simple compliment, your face lit up. Your eyes sparkled in the light of the grand chandelier. A simple thank you was all you could mutter.

And with that, the music had stopped, and that sweet moment faded. Adler released his hold on you, and nodded.

“Go get ‘em.”

------

Another A/N: If you don’t understand the reference to the nightclub in East Berlin I mentioned in the chapter, you can find that here

#russell adler #russell adler x reader #frank woods #black ops cold war #call of duty #cod #black ops #bocw #bo:cw #quizzy writes

[zabiume]

I love your character interactions! I ,especially, love the Renji chapters

Could you do one Ichigo acts as a wingman for Renji? Seeing as they spent most of their years battling or being part of their respective squad, I'd like to think their social skills are not on the great side

We need more Renji hijinks!

Ichigo is Bad at love lives in general, both his own and that of others, so I improvised a little and took the crack-ish route with this. Hope you enjoy!

“You’re so cute.” Ichigo pinched Chad’s cheek, leaving the latter rather flustered and questioning the exact sequence of moments that led them all here. Here, being the back alley of the Second Division barracks, but also the general life circumstances that had just happened in the last 72 hours.

“Oh dear.” Orihime fanned her face, rocking from foot to foot as she tried to make eye contact with Chad over Ichigo’s unruly hair. No avail.

“Don’t worry, Inoue, I think you’re real cute, too,” Ichigo declared, swaying heavily from where was tucked into Chad’s side and drawing closer to her in big, bumbling steps. His hands arched forward in a grabby motion, like he was searching for her head. “C’mere.”

Orihime squeaked with a jump, swatting his hand away and shooting Chad a helpless stare. Chad returned it with a shrug, watching Ichigo’s every move with all the bewildered posturing of Frankenstein upon creating his own monster. Horror. Awe. Regret. Orihime read it clear as day in his eyes because she was sure they were all reflected in her own.

“Kurosaki-kun.” She valiantly tried to duck out of the headlock hug Ichigo was trying to pull her into. “Please. You’ll regret this in the morning--oh, Sado-kun, help!”

Chad rushed forward and grabbed Ichigo’s arm before he could haul her up in the air in one graceless swoop. “Ichigo, she’s right.” Chad yanked him with minimum effort, despite his murmured protests. Orihime stumbled backwards with a grateful wheeze, going pink in the face as she held one thumb up to indicate she was relatively okay.

Given the circumstances.

“The only thing I’ll regret in the morning is not telling my friends how much I love them!” Ichigo roared, thrashing helplessly in Chad’s arms. He paused briefly when his eyes caught a shadow of movement, a lone shinigami passing them by as he made his way to the Second’s offices. “Oi! You!” The shinigami arched a brow. Surely he was wondering what the savior of three worlds was doing by the Second Division, restrained by his ryoka comrades. “You--shinigami dude.” He jerked his thumb back to Chad and Orihime. “These are my friends. Tell 'em I love 'em, they don’t seem to get it.”

“Oh god,” Orihime whispered, making placating and equally floundering gestures as she indicated for the shinigami to keep walking and not pay any attention to Ichigo. Chad gave an apologetic smile, but didn’t loosen his iron-clad grip on Ichigo’s shoulders either.

This was going to be a long, long night.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The thing was, the Second Division of the Gotei 13, also dubbed affectionately by some as the Onmitsukido, was taking the aid of one Urahara Kisuke in developing the perfect truth serum for witness interrogation purposes. It had very much been a joint effort from the beginning, he would attest humbly, but the truth of the matter was that the Twelfth Division had the spottiest record for ethical research practices and no one could answer for how that truth serum had ended up in the hands of one substitute shinigami, Kurosaki Ichigo. And if there was anyone who had a spottier record on giving in to base and curious impulses more than Division 12, it was, indeed, the hailed savior of three worlds--

-- or so the Seireitei Communication would report, a good thirteen hours after the entire fiasco had simmered down.

Luckily or unluckily for everyone else involved, the night was still young.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Kuchiki Rukia felt the low buzz of her spirit phone, mid-conversation with her brother and his lieutenant by the Sixth Division barracks. She fished it out of her robes and frowned, knowing full well Inoue would not text her an SOS unless there was an emergency of world-ending proportions or if the latest chapter in the shoujo they were co-reading had come out.

We tried to stop him, it read instead, followed by an, I’m so sorry, Kuchiki-san :(((

“Sorry?” Rukia mumbled, impervious to Renji and Byakuya’s confused glances in her direction. “Sorry about what?”

Stop whom?

Her answer came in the form of a sudden, but incredible burst of blurred energy whirring past her senses and leaving several afterimages after it came to a halt. Rukia remained lax, already having sensed Ichigo’s reiatsu--not to mention his obscenely orange hair that defeated the stealthy purpose of shunpo in the first place--but Byakuya’s hand came to rest warily on the hilt of his zanpakuto, mouth downturned in displeasure that Ichigo had pulled a Yoruichi on them and shown up full speed ahead when they were least expecting him.

“Kurosaki,” he intoned, which really meant, ‘what is the meaning of this?’

“Hey Ichigo,” Renji greeted, not deterred in the slightest. None of the trio had noticed anything off about him just yet--not the way his pupils were exceptionally large, nor the way he walked like he had the world’s heaviest weights balancing on his shoulders. Ichigo was a teenager after all, and teenagers, well-- they slouched.

“Renji!” Ichigo cheered, shoving his face right into where the crook of Renji’s face met his shoulder. “Been lookin’ for you and Rukia all over.” He cracked one eye open, still awkwardly snuggled into Renji’s side as he observed Byakuya. “Not you, though.”

Byakuya’s shoulders hunched and Rukia would have rolled her eyes at his callous attitude--except he was acting rather weird, cuddling up to Renji like that. Renji himself took Ichigo’s gestures amicably, patting him on the back with one hand and exchanging a confused, but happy grin with Rukia.

“Good to see you, bud,” Renji replied after a moment too long’s worth of a hug, like he was speaking to someone particularly slow. He gingerly peeled Ichigo off his shoulders, however, because Byakuya was giving him the ‘improper body language on the divison premises’ glare and Renji did not want to get demoted on the grounds that Ichigo was having a touch-starved day. “What can we do for ya?”

“Ichigo, what are you doing here?” Rukia demanded, pinching his elbow lightly when his eyes flickered after a meandering grasshopper. Was he drunk? She sniffed his breath but couldn’t discern anything. Was this what Inoue was trying to warn him about? Because Inoue was definitely trying to warn her about...whatever this was.

“You two,” Ichigo said suddenly, making all three of them flinch as he pointed to Renji and Rukia. “I’ve got a serious bone to pick with you two, but especially you, Rukia.” Rukia was about to open her mouth and tell Ichigo where exactly he could put his bone, but Byakuya spoke up first after a long moment’s silence.

“If it is combat practice you accosted my sister about, I will have to remind you that she is far too busy to accommodate your childish whims and needs.” He leveled his gaze with an irate Ichigo who couldn’t give less of a shit about him. “Though it might make for interesting observation how you would tackle her graceful bankai with your own bullheadedness, you will have to stop by after hours. Unlike regular humans, we have work to do.”

“Combat practice?” Ichigo echoed, making a disgusted face. “What are you, stoned?” Byakuya’s face turned scary shades of white, while Renji visibly flinched behind him. “I’m here because I’m sick of the way you two have been dancin’ around each other but being too damn stupid to get together already, damn it!”

Renji wanted the floor to bury him alive. His ears were so red in blatant shock, he didn’t dare look at Byakuya, choosing to look at the floor instead. He’d never explicitly told Ichigo it was a secret, but never in his life had he fathomed...this. This was it. This was the day Byakuya would senbonzakura his ass out of here and he could kiss his dreams of making a methodical and proper proposal goodbye. Even if he could pass it off as a joke later, Byakuya would not take this slight to his professionalism right under his nose so easily without consequences.

Rukia, on the other hand, was pissed.

“Just what do you think of yourself, Ichigo, coming here and saying sh--things like that!” Rukia yanked Ichigo by the collar until he was down to her level. If Renji had been looking anywhere but at his sandals, he would have noticed her ears reddening too, but he was too busy marveling at the shrill anger in her voice to notice it. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“What’s wrong with me?” Ichigo demanded, shoving Rukia off and coming around to stand beside Renji. “What’s wrong with you?” He lifted one arm, a firm hand clenching around Renji’s bicep back and forth. “I mean, are you blind?”

“Ichigo,” Renji warned, though it came out more as a squeak.

“This guy nearly dragged his ass through the dirt for forty years. He’s got a job. Do you know how hard it is to get a job?” Ichigo let his arm drop but prodded one finger on Renji’s left eyebrow. “He does his eyebrows. He’s 6′2--”

“Kurosaki Ichigo,” Byakuya warned, slightly affronted at the mention of Renji’s height, but Ichigo was on a full-fledged soapbox roll now.

“-- And he loves you, Rukia!” he yelled, shaking a fist impatiently. “He looks at you like you hung the moon and stars; hell, he looks at you like you are the moon and stars.” He clapped a very mortified Renji’s shoulders with--what he probably thought--were encouraging thumps. He looked all for the world like a car salesman trying to make a busted sell out of a very old Honda. Renji looked like he wanted to die, but Ichigo went on, “I think you know he loves you, Rukia, and I think you love him too. The only problem is that you’re both too stupid to accept it! Going on, this an’ that about how I’m the reason you’re back together and you owe me your first born kid--well that’s great and all but it means horseshit if you’re gonna keep dancing around like this all the time! Isn’t it about damn time you made your feelings clear?”

There was a very pronounced silence in the air. Byakuya cleared his throat uncomfortably. Rukia looked like a solid mix between wanting to murder Ichigo and wanting somebody to murder her. Renji had backed himself into the shadows and begun planning his quickest escape route because he did not want to be here. Ichigo stared.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” he whispered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I feel like I’m going crazy.”

Byakuya opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes widened when he spotted the telltale brown of a staff coming out to whack Ichigo on the back of his head. Ichigo’s eyes glazed over and he slumped forward, almost crashing to the floor if it hadn’t been for Rukia and Renji catching his weight from either side.

“Yoo-hoo,” Urahara sang casually, lifting one hand sheepishly against his hat. “I’ve come to pick up a very important package. If you good folks could just hand him over, that would be great for all parties involved, thank you.”

The silence was considerably stilted, now that Ichigo had passed out, but Renji and Rukia were still quite in shock.

“Abarai, Rukia,” Byakuya said, primly locking his hands ahead of him and giving Ichigo’s knocked-out figure a nod. “You will want to see him off, correct?”

“Y-yes, sir!” they both chorused, drawing closer together even as they balanced Ichigo between them. Urahara hummed to himself, locking his own arms behind him.

“Then get going,” Byakuya ordered, eyebrow twitching in annoyance at Urahara. “I have conveniently pressing matters to tend to for the rest of the afternoon.”

Rukia and Renji shared a look. “Yes, sir!” They took off behind Urahara, feeling lines of sweat race past both their faces as they didn’t dare once look behind them.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“So, uh,” Renji said, later that evening, over a glass of beer. “About that whole Ichigo thing...”

“I know Renji,” Rukia said quickly, ears flaring red, before her eyes softened and she tacked on a quiet, “I do, too.”

“Oh.” Renji coughed. “Good. That’s, uh--that’s good.”

Rukia’s eyes narrowed at him. “You were going to deny it, weren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Renji said, then admitted sheepishly, “Only if you were. I was gonna put the whole thing behind us, if we’re being totally honest.”

Rukia tossed a tissue at him. “Shut up,” she muttered, but neither of them held back their shit-eating grins as their hands warmly reached for each other under the table.

Renji squeezed once. Rukia squeezed back, and both of them made mental promises to beat the living shit out of Ichigo when he came to, later

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Urrrrrrgh, I feel like shit,” Ichigo grumbled, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Did I come see you and Renji yesterday?”

“You did,” Rukia said shortly, dabbing at his forehead with a wet cloth. “Lay still, Urahara said you’d come down with side-effects if you aren’t being careful.”

Ichigo winced. “He drugged me, didn’t he?”

Rukia stared at him, wondering if he really didn’t remember the events of yesterday at all. “Yeah,” she grumbled, jabbing him extra hard on his eyebrow. “You sure spouted a lot of shit on that truth serum.”

Ichigo’s eyes widened for a second, fully considering the weight of Rukia’s words. She looked away, feeling a swarm of heat flushing up her face.

“I asked you to confess to Renji, didn’t I?” he said slowly, and Rukia’s quick inhale was about telltale as anything that he’d hit the mark. “Was I right? Did you two do it?”

“Shut up, Ichigo,” Rukia said with a long sigh, tossing aside the rag and beginning to storm out of one of the many rooms in the shoten.

“I totally am!” he called out after her, a wide and shit-eating grin on his face, “You two so owe me one.” Rukia was about to slam the door behind her when she heard him quietly mutter, “God, Inoue owes me so much cash, too.”

She swung back into the room immediately. “You bet on this?!”

The shoten door slammed closed. If anyone heard Ichigo screaming for help after, they didn’t mention it.

sorry for the short ending. thank you for the prompt!

#renruki #awesomewweus #ichiruki brotp #myfic #ichigo on the truth serum is just: i love my friends and i want them to be happy #Zabiume's Birthday Round-Up

[tams-writeblr]

Once I’m gone

Rating: M(ature) Warnings: major character death Category: F/M (main couple), Multi (side characters) Fandom: Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin Relationship: Mikasa Ackermann / Eren Jaeger | various side couples Characters: Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackermann, Armin  Arlelt, Zeke Jaeger, Hange Zoe, Floch Forster, Ymir, Reiner Braun, Pieck  Finger, Historia Reiss, several others will make a cameo Additional Tags: Modern AU | established relationship | toxic  behaviour | Eren suffers from Huntington’s disease and tries to settle  his matters before he dies | suicial blockhead Eren | aged up characters  (by ten years) | suicide tw | depression tw | mental diseases tw | deathly diseases tw | this is clearly not write what you know, but I’m giving my very best to  representate the topics as good as I can | this all basically came to me as a fever dream | you remember Thirteen from House, M.D.? I still   have a huge crush on her so this version of Eren is greatly inspired by her <3 Language: English (not native, I’m trying my best you guys) Stats: ongoing - Chapter 2/15 - Part 1/3 - 1016 of 2811 words Summary: Eren Jaeger knew for years that he inherited  Huntington’s disease from his late mother. When he first notices  symptoms on him, his long protected plan, to end his life before  reaching the critical state of his illness,  awakes. But there is still  Mikasa, his girlfriend and the only person in the world he cares about  more than about himself, and he can’t leave her alone and grieving. It’s  time to find a substitute for when Eren is gone. With the help of a new  friend Eren tries to scare away Mikasa while driving her into the arms  of someone new.

__________________________________________________

His brother, the psychologist - Part 1/3

<<previous

“Behave yourself”, she had told him when he left the house. When he came back, she would be away for the night shift. Behave, what was she thinking? That he would jump at the other participants of the group therapy's throats?

With his hands deeply buried in his pockets Eren walked past the well known Streets of his home town. He grew up here, only a few blocks away from their current apartment was the school he attended. He knew stories about every house, every pothole reminded him of something. Memories that had formed his personality to be who he was today. What was a person without memories? His mother had eventually become an empty shell that had no resemblance with the loving person that she used to be. He didn’t want to be an empty shell and if he needed therapy because of it, he wondered who was the crazier one, him or his doctors.

He reached his destination, a six-story high old building with crumbling stucco around the windows. The modern full glass front door, that opened with a simple pull, didn’t fit in with the rest of the fassade. Reluctantly Eren entered the building - no lift, splendid!

When he reached the fourth floor, his pulse was beating heavily within his carotid. He already was in better shape before. With a quick look at his watch he noticed that he was several minutes too late. He still pushed the door saying “Dr. Zeke Jäger - conversational therapy” with an obviousness open that was looking for their equal.

When he had heard a vivid voice talking from inside, so did they fall quiet the second the new arrival stood iffley under the doorframe.

“Eren, what a surprise”, Zeke blandly stated and rose from his chair. He placed his clipboard behind him and did some steps towards his younger brother.

At first glance nobody would have known that the two men could be brothers. While Eren was a dark type, Zeke had short, blond hair, wore round glasses and a thick full beard. Looking twice, one might notice that they had the same eyes.

Before Zeke could come too close towards his brother, Eren reached out his right hand holding the letter of referral from Dr. Hans. “My doctor is sending me. They’re afraid I might shoot a bullet through my brain.”

With surprise Zeke took the completely wrinkly letter from his hand. “I already told you several times, that you are always welcome here. You still could have given me a short call beforehand.”

Eren rolled his eyes. “I’ll just get that chair there in the back?” It wasn’t a real question since he crossed the room with long steps without waiting for an answer, getting a chair from the furthest corner and simply placing it between two other chairs in their ridiculously typical circle. He sat down between two blondes, one massive man with the hint of a beard and rigid face and one… well, what did we have there? Through his chin long blond hair, he couldn’t make out their features.

“Well”, Zeke said with a low sigh. “As you can see, we seem to have a new face between us. That’s Eren, he”, he sighed, loud and theatrical this time. “is my little brother. Would you like to introduce yourself to the group first?”

“I’m good, I’ll listen to what the others have to say at first.” Eren’s eyes wandered over the faces of the attendees. Across from him sat a dark haired woman with heavy freckles and ennerved features, then there was the empty chair with Zeke’s clipboard and on her other side sat another dark haired woman on whose chair crutches were leaning. On the very first glance none of them looked like they needed treatment from Zeke, except for maybe the Bull besides him.

Zeke returned to his place and brushed sighing with thumb and pointer over his full eyebrows. “Okay, then each in turn - Reiner, you’re first.”

Reiner was the bull besides Eren. He told about an operation as a soldier in Mali, an exploding pickup. He was hurled twenty meters through the air but stayed unharmed as if through a miracle. When he crawled back to the pickup to look after his comrades, they all were dead. Since then again and again he asked why he stayed unharmed. To be honest Eren did the same when he watched the mountain of muscle crying for several seconds.

“It’s good that you can let your feelings out by now, Reiner”, Zeke praised him after a moment of silence. Oh yeah, his dear brother, the psychologist.

The woman next to Reiner gave him a box of tissues from the floor. Then Zeke ordered her to introduce herself. Her name was Pieck Finger and she was suffering from multiple sclerosis. At first Eren thought he could have found someone that could understand him, the prospects for this disease weren’t that great either. But Pieck was simply the happiest and most positive person, he had met in a long time. When she raved enthusiastically about being able to tie her shoes alone again after getting a new medication, Eren would have loved to throw up.

After Pieck Zeke gave the floor to the woman on his right, her Name was Ymir. She had a brain tumor - inoperable. “I can drop dead any time, I don’t even know why  to get out of bed in the morning anymore.” She wasn’t a woman of large words. Eren like that.

Finally Zeke turned to the person on Eren’s left. The hair had hidden away the face for the whole time while they stared to the ground like crazy.

“Armin, you were interrupted talking when Eren arrived. Would you now please tell your story?”

So it was a guy, infelicitous hairdo.

Armin slowly raised his head, piercing blue eyes stared at the wall opposite him. “My name is Armin Arlelt and I've been coming here for three weeks. Back than I was released from a mental clinic because I tried for the third time to commit suicide.”

                                                                            >>next

__________________________________________________ Author’s Note: Sorry if this part is full of faults, I didn’t really correct read it as much as chapter one. And I don’t have much to say to this part. The next part could be triggering for some you so please add your approbriate tw into the ban!

#attack on titan fanfiction #aot ff #eremika #eren jaeger #mikasa ackermann #zeke jaeger #armin arlelt #reiner braun #pieck finger #ymir aot #once i'm gone #once i'm gone chap 2 #once i'm gone chap 2 part 1 #eren jaeger x mikasa ackerman #writers on tumblr #fanfiction on tumblr #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #mentions of suicide tw

[rivahisu107]

The Unresolved Baby Subplot Chapter 3: Children and Forests

As the Corps returns to Paradis amidst the turmoil that Eren has now placed the island in, there are so many questions about the situation that the rest of the Corps are asking about Eren and if he can be trusted or if it would be better to give his Titan to somebody else. 

Meanwhile, Levi begins his month long stay in the Chateau D’Forest of Giant Trees with Zeke, where he so badly wants to fulfill his vow to Erwin but can’t for various reasons, more reasons than the readers may see upon first glance because of how tightly the dialogue is written. 

And for some extra comparison, I am going to be incorporating some scenes from the anime adaptation to compare and contrast. It’s easier to see where things will be going in the final part unless there really are going to be some big changes, but artistic detail matters. Without further ado, let’s delve into the next chapter of this (conspiracy) theory of an unresolved plotline!

The first leg of the journey to the forest is by military carriage through streets full of people celebrating the victory of Eren Jaeger in Liberio, but they can’t see how ignorant they are according to Zeke. Levi is not impressed to have to be working with Zeke to maintain island security- he can’t stop glaring at him! He’s not too keen on this “secret plan” either, but he’s more than willing to listen. Remember, Hange has been desperately looking for solutions all this time as well. And it’s not really helping that the Queen is pregnant, so she’s not able to take on the Beast Titan in her condition, which Levi is to blame for as well. 

Anyways, after a change of clothes, they arrive at their destination. Oh, what’s this, our second conversation involving children? 

“So, you’re worried about those brats?”

What’s with that look, Zeke? Are you so embarrassed about your miscalculation that you have to remind Levi of his? This is going to be a long month in the forest if they can’t even outright mention the reason they have been brought together. Hmm, and Zeke ironically wants to bring Gabi and Falco “into the forest”.

Compare this to the anime. This very line has been cut, but Levi is even more pissed than he is in the manga. We’ll see a lot of that.

Nothing much here to say, except how interesting that like Historia, Levi is having to sit face to face with the rock throwing bully from not long ago. I like the sun/moon motifs in the anime, by the way. The sun was always with Historia, but the moon with Levi was an added detail. 

Jump to a month later- ten months into the pregnancy according to the timeline-, and this is one of the many times Levi is asking Zeke about Ragako village and why he did what he did. Why, he had to prove his loyalty to Marley despite how horrific the bloodshed was. Levi shouldn’t be so judgmental; he shouldn’t assume what others are thinking. He must not have been popular with the ladies. 

Wait. What? We were just talking about the ethics of slaughtering people to prove yourself loyal to someone or something. What does Levi’s love life have to do with this? Well, we now know that he was popular at one time. Just enough. Oh dear. He really doesn’t want to talk about this with “worrying about those brats”. 

The anime in both the sub and dub has perfect line delivery. Plus he looks extra embarrassed and can’t even look at Zeke when answering the question. 

Levi can’t do anything about when Zeke and Eren can do their “experiment”, it’s not his call. For once, they aren’t at each other’s necks because they agree that they are “running out of time”. The broader picture is that the world is going to strike back some time. But with that kind of look on his face, why else could Levi be worried about running out of time? Hold that thought.

Uh oh. Darius Zackley has been assassinated, and they can’t really trust Eren anymore because Zeke could be controlling him. But no, Levi’s Survey Corps idealism is getting the better of him. He put his trust in Eren many times before, so how could this farce be happening? So his idea is not to feed Eren to somebody else but instead to feed Zeke to a Jaegerist. And then, here comes the panel that I believe has been the simultaneously most taken out of context, misunderstood, and overlooked panel in this whole mystery. And it is also the key to resolving the plotline as picture perfect proof.

There are so many people who take this panel to mean, based on the dialogue, that 

1. Levi is a cruel bastard who is more than happy to slaughter Historia.

 2. Levi is relaying false information that was told secondhand about Historia’s due date- which has NOT been helped by Chapter 134 taking place just days later in story. It is more than high time to debunk all of this. 

If you read Chapter 2 of my theory, we saw that back in Marley, Levi was absolutely heartbroken about diplomacy being more difficult to pursue than it seemed. Hange never wanted to sacrifice Historia either. They have been trying everything to find a peaceful solution that doesn’t involve the Rumbling or using Historia. It’s a messed up situation for sure, and there are few options due to Eren’s actions in Liberio left.

But remember, Historia was the one who said at the Hizuru meeting that she would take on the Beast Titan if needed for the survival of the island, and she reiterated this to Eren outright in Chapter 130 of the manga. So, it was ultimately her choice, her freedom to choose. Let’s break down the dialogue.

“Then, if Historia’s prepared like she says she is, we’ll feed the Titan to her next.”

Notice the language I highlighted. Levi is trying to do this on Historia’s terms- her words to him back in Uprising must still bite him to this day- in fact, she repeated his words of “there’s no need to run or fight” back to EREN. Only IF she is ready to take on the Titan. This sure doesn’t sound like somebody who wants to turn her by force, ready or not. 

“We just need to wait a few months for her to give birth.”

See? Levi does not want to hurt a pregnant woman and her child- his child as well. Of course, when discussing this point about the pregnancy timing with others, I have had so many come back at me with, “Levi can’t be the father he got the timing wrong”. 

Sigh. Duh. Of course he's giving the wrong due date. He’s not going to give the REAL DUE DATE, which is ANY DAY NOW. He’s buying her all the time he can. And do you think he’s going to give away the fact that he’s the father of this child who shouldn’t even be happening to two messengers of the top brass? What do you think would happen if he did?

Yes, that’s right. Levi is willing to compromise national security so Historia and their child don’t suffer during the Titanizing process even if she is willing to take on the Titan when she’s ready after giving birth. And I just want to point out a great irony. Those who think Eren is the father because he doesn’t want to turn Historia and her children into Titans believe he is doing a great favor by bursting out and getting angry every time this is brought up. But he disregards Historia’s own feelings twice. Does this sound like somebody who really cares about what the other wants?

And here, I want to do an artistic analysis. This is another big one where us readers have missed the forest for the trees. We focus so much on the dialogue that we ignore the picture. I couldn’t believe it when I actually looked for the first time. The way Historia is drawn made my jaw drop. She looks like a perfect, glowing angel from the most high key maternity shoot ever done in the mind of Levi, who himself is cleaned up and all glowy as well, not to mention that this is the first time since Chapter 69 at this point that he had a slight smile on his face. Why would Isayama make this artistic decision? Levi never has any moments where he thinks about Erwin like this in his mind, or Hange. Let’s compare this to two instances where Isayama has drawn couples in the manga. 

See? They are all pretty and cleaned up. There is no other reason why Levi would be thinking about Historia in this manner. Nobody else in the story, not Eren nor the farmer, has any moment where they think about Historia like this. In fact, it’s the only time we see her during her pregnancy that she looks vaguely at peace. 

Hold the phone. Levi snaps back from his fantasy because the messengers cannot believe how illogical and stupid his idea is. If they don’t feed Zeke to another with royal blood, the island is screwed! And they may lose Historia to birthing complications! 

Er... are you okay there, Levi? You look terrified of birthing complications. 

And they don’t sound too confident in your plan of “just strike back”. You have absolutely no resources to do so in your position. And here, we need to compare this to the anime. 

Unfortunately, the dialogue surrounding Historia and the “few months” comment is cut- but that’s only a sign that something truly did happen ten months ago. And look at the way that the production compensated. Instead of talking about making sure Pixis gets his shit together, there is this added dialogue that makes Levi sound even angrier. 

He’s not talking about ripping off Zeke’s limbs here. He’s talking about ripping off Pixis’ limbs! If any of the original manga stuff was animated, it would have been a huge giveaway. 

A month has passed already- uh oh; time is running out- but Levi, while keeping the government plan in mind, is desperate to fulfill his vow to Erwin. Along with whatever was just going on in his mind, he is deeply distracted and wants to give his comrades’ deaths meaning. Unfortunately, he is repeating his same mistake as at the banquet and not paying attention to those he is supposed to be watching, and the wine plan goes into action. 

Zeke didn’t think he would be willing to slaughter his way through his comrades, but Levi succeeds and gets to him. It’s cruel, but Levi had to prove his loyalty to his nation- including Historia. If he lets Zeke get to her, she and their child are done for. 

There is this other bit of dialogue too.  

They were your downfall. Zeke is talking about the global scale conflict about to happen. But what else could this mean for the panel we read in Chapter 112? Levi thought he could work a way around to protect Paradis without sacrificing Historia and their child, but nope. They've managed to screw up national security.

Levi tortures Zeke on a cart ride out of the forest to bring him to be fed to another Titan. Levi is not going easy on him. And then we see Zeke's tragic backstory and how he came to support euthanasia via Tom Ksaver.

Note here. This is some M6 text that has never properly been revisited. I wonder why it was emphasized.

Anyways, Levi learns of this secret plan, and he sure is pissed. It's what Zeke shouts next that triggers him into wanting to further torture him. It's Levi's fault that this child is going to be born into a cruel world, but he can't be against children being born. He helped set up an orphanage with Historia, by the Walls! There has to be a way to get children out of the forest of violence while letting them still exist.

Sadly, that will never happen in this story, and these two will never properly reconcile.

And uh, the animators snuck in a subliminal message here. Levi ended up losing a pair of fingers, but fortunately not a pair of something else!

...

Here, I want to address a possible objection by comparing the "saved those children" comment with Levi and the moment Eren in Paths runs to stop Ymir from euthanasia to disprove I am reading too much into this.

This scene is a common argument used on Team Eren to prove he is having an emotional reaction to euthanasia because he is thinking about Historia and supposedly his child. No.

Eren was already well aware of Zeke's plan; he pretended to go along with it! Eren had his own plan because of the memories from Ymir received from touching Historia. His real intention was the Rumbling. Why? Because he wanted to protect life on the island and nowhere else. So of course he doesn't want euthanasia. The reason he panics is because Ymir has started moving forward to listen to the royal-blooded Zeke's command. But Eren is able to reach her in time because she wanted a connection to the world this whole time, something he gave her, something Zeke could never do because of his worldview.

Compare to Levi when he learns of the plan in context of the current arc. He had no idea what this plan was, unlike Eren, so he could not expect Zeke to say this.

One may argue that Levi is thinking of his slain comrades and just wants to torture Zeke more and be the hero. But he already chopped Zeke up in the forest and in the cart. So, why would bringing up children trigger Levi? Unless we had a scene of Levi listening to a conversation by two comrades about their families at home in the pages prior, there is no other reason than the idea that he himself is bringing a child into the cruel world.

...

As Levi’s life hangs in the balance for at least ten chapters, next chapter will take a turn and focus on another unresolved mystery of Titan lore that ties into our theory: the Ackerman clan. And it will be featuring Yelena, Dina Fritz, and the scarf moment.

#attack on titan #rivahisu #unresolved baby plot #unresolved plotlines

[evabellasworld]

Storm of the Republic

Chapter 16

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

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Summary:  When Tup murdered General Tiplar during a battle, Anakin Skywalker and Captain Rex dispatched Ahsoka, Fives, and Yara to solve the mystery that was plaguing the Clone Army. Meanwhile, Senator Padme Amidala contacted Commander Fox, Commander Tori, Riyo Chuchi, and Dipper to help her continue investigating the death of Palpatine, suspecting that Dooku was behind the evil plot. But when Dooku send an ISB agent to stop them, the team had to race against time to search for the truth, which could alter the course of the galaxy.

————————————————————————————

“How the fuck did they find us?” Odd Eye shouted through her helmet, as she blasted at the battle droids with her twin pistols, along with Mina and Tarot, who were by her side.

“I don’t know,” Mina answered, her eyes fixed on the enemies in front of her. “Our intel was secure. How was it possible that they figured out our location?”

“Maybe they had a spy,” Tarot guessed. “I mean, how else would they know we were here on this part of the island?”

The ARC Trooper made a good point. The 212th and the Coruscant Guard were supposed to be the diversion while they could land peacefully, but the plans seemed to fall through, as usual. Odd Eye wouldn’t be shocked, as this wasn’t the first time for their well-formulated strategy.

They were on their way to the rendezvous point until the droids caught them off-guard. Luckily, both the 666th and 197th Battalions were prepared for battle, otherwise, they would be dead by now. I guess there’s every reason General Almarez-Guttierez is always cautious.

“Hey Raul,” Erina yelled for his name, as she shot a Super Battle Droid by the centre. “Are you doing okay back there?”

“Today is a very interesting day, Eri,” Raul snickered. “We were supposed to get to the rendezvous point of time, but we ended up joining the party.”

“I didn’t really ask how your day is, but thanks for the update anyway,” she rolled her eyes as she blasted another droid from her left.

“You’re very much welcome, dear,” Raul gave a wink, as he punched a B1 unit with his enormous arms.

“I’m being sarcastic, in case you can’t tell.”

“Really? You don’t sound sarcastic at all.”

Erina slapped her forehead. “We have been together for more than a decade, and you still can’t tell whether I’m being sarcastic?”

“Well, you were screaming in this cross-fire that it’s pretty hard to tell,” he shrugged, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Fair point,” she acknowledged her partner, as they both continued to focus their fire on the Imperials in their surroundings, hoping to end this as soon as possible.

With a droid popper in his hand, clone trooper Nygma of the 197th tossed one towards them, deactivating them. Avoiding the blasts, he crawled on the ground as his comrades were shielding themselves behind the trees.

“We’re almost there,” Mina barked, as she threw a bomb 6 feet apart from her current position. “We can win this one.”

“Yes, commander,” Bouncy replied, before jumping from his hiding spot and fired multiple times with a rotary blaster, screaming with glory. “Eat lasers, you clankers.”

Odd Eye covered her ears as she dashed through the enemies, tackling them with Tarot and Draco. Despite feeling a slight pain in her pack, she continued with her duty and responsibility as a clone trooper.

With the Imperial droid army calling for reinforcement, her head was spinning on the battlefield as one of her best troops, Draco, was shot in the shoulders. “Are you okay?” she asked, kneeling by his side.

“I’m alright, commander,” he bobbed his head. “It’s just a flesh wound, that’s all.”

Her eyes scanned for their medic, Sabrina, who was treating the clone from Mina’s battalion, Brake. Their medic, Rosie, was a civilian who volunteered for the war effort and joined them after the death of Hana on Coruscant. She was currently busy treating another clone, who couldn’t move his leg at all.

This is madness, she whispered underneath her ears, as she crawled on her elbows and knees and spotted General Almarez-Guttierez from afar, who was occupied with another batch of droids with General Gomez. I need to warn them.

“General,” Odd Eye reached them. “We need to retreat right now. We need our troops to take over the city of Mendes and we can’t lose them right now.”

“She’s right,” Raul agreed with her plan, helping her up on her feet. “Our mission on Mendes is more important if we’re going to win against the Empire. What do you say, Eri?”

She let out a small groan, nodding her head. “Alright then, commander. We’ll do what you suggested. Besides, the others are waiting for us at the rendezvous point, anyway.”

“Thank you, General,” said Odd Eye, as she ran back towards her troops, who were still engaged with the opposing side. “Guys, we have to retreat right now. Come on.”

“Right behind you, commander,” Mina saluted, as she got up and gestured to the others to follow them. “Hurry, we have to get out of this hellhole.”

As they turned around and marched together, the Republic remnants’ army avoided getting hit by their blasts, despite not having a lightsaber. ARC Trooper Tarot, who was all the way behind, defended his brothers and sisters along with the other Mina.

“So, did your predictions come true?” she raised her questions towards him. “Was your tarot reading accurate?’

“Yes, it happened,” Tarot admitted. “The Temperance card upright represents patience, and this situation is perfect for our generals and commanders to remain calm, even when the situation is stressful.”

“Well, looks like the commander made a wise decision after all,” she dragged her lips downwards. “It really came true.”

“What can I say? Tarot readings never lie, unless you’re incompetent in the arts.”

“I have a question though,” the other Mina raised her finger. “Will we stay alive after this?”

Before the former could take out his cards from his utility belt, Commander Mina cleared her throat, showing that they need to stay focused on their current goals, which is to stay alive. He couldn’t argue, since she made a good point and also, he doesn’t want to end up like his best friend, Fortune.

“I’ll answer your questions once things have settled down, so be patient.”

Meanwhile, Erina and Raul were holding each other’s hands as they checked on their troops behind them every few seconds, making sure that no one was missing. The medics, Sabrina, and Rosie were carrying their patients on their back, making sure they weren’t left behind.

The injured clone cried in pain as his body was quivering, making Rosie push herself to run faster. “It’s alright, Wren,” she soothed him with a hushed tone. “I know you can make it. Just hang in there, alright?”

“How long till we reached our destination?” Odd Eye asked, looking at Rosie’s struggles with her patient.

“We’re almost there,” Erina informed her, opening her holomap. “Just try to be patient.”

If you say so, the commander forced herself to agree, not wanting to blow up in her face. The sound of droids shooting in their direction was intense for her ears, and it was not a good time to fight with her superior officer. Just like what Tarot said, just be patient and things will go smoothly.

They continued their journey on foot for a while underneath the dark sky. The rain stopped pouring from the sky, leaving the forest floor full of puddles and mud that stained their armour. The surrounding air grew colder, which was a stark contrast to the humidity during the day. Gunfires had waned in the distance, leaving a tranquil surrounding for the soldiers.

But Commander Mina felt her gut was twisting inside. With sweat pouring underneath her helmet, she slowed down her pace, sharpening her eyes on her surroundings. Odd Eye noticed her odd behaviour, prompting her to question her comrade. “Are you alright?”

“I have a feeling something terrible will happen once we reach our rendezvous point.”

Odd Eye hummed to herself as she pondered on her thoughts for a while. She has a point. I feel odd too.

Before she could ask her best men, Tarot, the cavalry had arrived at their destination, only to find Boil, Faven, and Hyewon underneath a tree, their hands tied behind them. Mina recognised them as they were part of the 212th and Coruscant Guards, making her take off her helmet. “Are you guys okay?”

“Where’s your commander?” Odd Eye demanded, looking at a deserted spot. “Why are you guys the only ones here?”

“Well…” Boil dragged his words, when the Imperials revealed themselves with their blasters pointed towards them, leaving their jaws hanging. “We were caught by the Imps.”

“Surrender, Republic dogs,” the droid commander ordered, catching both the 666th and the 197th off-guard.

#star wars #star wars ocs #star wars original characters #star wars fics #star wars fanfics #star wars fanfictions #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #arc trooper fives #arc trooper yara #clone troopers #clone trooper ocs #clone ocs #commander fox #riyo chuchi #commander tori #lenora doherty #clone trooper tup #palps is dead #star wars au #star wars alternate universe #count dooku #galactic empire

[almost-jack]

Sex, Drugs,&Space Chaos Ch. 2 (A Smutty Handsome Jack Adventure)

FInd more chapters on my AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921886/chapters/68380147

P.S. I friggen love comments, indulge me y’all

Chapter 2: A Push, a Pull, and a Twist

Rei arrived at Jack’s office promptly at 5. The room was enormous, with Jack’s desk at the far end on a raised platform in front of three massive windows overlooking a vast expanse of black space speckled with shimmering stars. Rei couldn’t help but smile to herself upon seeing the room; of course Jack would rule Hyperion from a stage.

Jack was lounging, feet up on his desk and a cigarette dangling between his fingers. A pair of unfamiliar people, clearly not Hyperion employees, were seated in front of him, drinks in hand. Jack was talking animatedly to a tall, lanky young man with slicked back hair and a cybernetic arm who was hovering at his side. This looked like less of a company meeting and more of small soiree, but Rei wasn’t complaining. Jack called out to her as she approached.

“Ah, good!  Tiny cartel boss, meet the vault hunters. Vault hunters, tiny cartel boss,” he said cheerfully.

Rei decided to ignore the jab about her height and flashed him a crooked smile, relieved that he seemed to be in a very good mood.

“Is that my new title? I dig it,” she mused. Jack winked at her appreciatively.

“Have a seat. Rhys, pour our friend here a drink. What are you drinking, sweetheart?”

“Uhh whiskey neat, I guess,” she said, lowering herself into a chair. The tall man nodded and descended the steps of the platform to rummage around in Jack’s mini bar.

“This is your ace-in-the-hole, Jack? Really? She’s gonna get killed real quick down on Pandora,” growled a huge, muscular, bearded man with excessive cybernetics seated next to her. A tall, regal looking black woman dressed in a white fur lined coat leaned against his chair, eyeing Rei with equal skepticism.

“That’s why, Wilhelm, my dear, she’s not going down there to clean up that bandit filth. You are. You’re the brawn, she’s the brains. You clear the way and Rei will do the rest,” said Jack.

“You know, uh, I grew up on Pandora. I’ve held my own in more than a few fights,” Rei said with a hint of indignation in her voice. Her hand subconsciously drifted under her lab coat to the holster on her hip. She had decided not to take any chances and come armed with a pistol.

Jack’s eyebrows shot up.

“Hmm, is that so? There was nothing in your file about Pandora…”

“I’m sure you realize there’s a lot about me that’s not in Hyperion’s database. Besides, it’s not exactly something I advertise around Helios. People seem to have a lot of… misconceptions about Pandora. Thanks,” she said, taking the drink that Rhys handed her. “So what exactly is it that you want me to do for you?”

Jack grinned and took a drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in a crystal ashtray.

“So-ho-ho much, cupcake,” he said with a chuckle. “Let’s start with mining the hell out of that shithole planet Pandora. We’re going to gut it and pull out all the Eridium until it collapses in on it’s stupid little self, and you’re going to oversee it. Then you’re going to take all that sweet, sweet Eridium and figure out a way to charge me a vault key. And all those little bandits your lab buddies drugged and tortured until they became psychos? I want some of those, too. But obedient. I swear I’ll shoot them right between the friggin’ eyes if any of those little monsters so much as looks at me wrong. But that comes later.”

“And what about the moral implications of, you know, torture and destroying a planet and all that…?” asked Rei, peering at him over rim of her glass.

Jack looked at her blankly for a moment, then broke into peels of laughter.

“Really? Really? The ex-Pandoran drug lord is questioning my moral integrity? Or are you getting cold feet, here?” he said, cackling.

Rei wasn’t questioning Jack’s moral compass so much as trying to discern if he actually had one. She concluded that…well she still had no idea, not that it mattered much. Over the years Rei had learnt and re-learnt the same lesson; survival first, power second, morality…whenever it was convenient. It was how the Borderlands worked.

“So I’ll take that as permission to do whatever I need to do.”

“You’ve got a free pass, run wild! And kitten, I really can’t wait to what happens when I set you loose. All you have to do is sign-” he motioned towards Rhys, who pulled a piece of paper from a folder under his arm.  “Here,” said Jack, pointing to a blank line at the bottom of the page.

She liked the sound of that…complete freedom to do whatever questionable project her heart desired was all she had ever wanted. She took a sip of her drink feeling more at ease with Jack, optimistic that this situation might actually turn out well for her. Rei picked up the contract and began to skim it.

“Don’t bother reading it, cupcake. You either sign, or I give you a ten second head start before I start shooting,” said Jack, reaching for his own drink.

“Jack, darling, are you quite sure she’s trustworthy? Wilhelm and I have already proved our merit. Don’t you feel compelled to test our new comrade?” asked the expensive looking woman.

“Aurelia, your concern is adorable, really, it is,” Jack said, flashing her a charming, well-practiced smile. “But you don’t need to concern yourself with anything other than getting paid.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said, frowning.

“Speak for yourself,” grunted Wilhelm.

“So,” said Jack, pushing a pen towards Rei, “what’s it gonna be, darlin’? Are we going to be buddies, or do I need to blow your brains out?”

Rei couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Oh wow, thanks for the ultimatum. I’ll need a minute to think about that one,” she said sarcastically, picking up the pen.

“Ooh, mouthy. Very, cute, kitten,” he said, sneering down at Rei as she signed the contract. “Ok kiddos, now that you’re all acquainted, you’ve got work to do. Off you go,” said Jack, waving a hand towards the door.  

Aurelia reached out and straightened Jack’s collar before giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Do be careful, dear. I would hate for anything else to happen to that handsome face,” she cooed. She turned and followed Wilhelm out. Rei put her glass down and turned to leave as well.

“Ah-ah-ah. Not you, Rei. We’ve got a couple more things to discuss,” Jack said, eyeing her with a wolfish, almost hungry expression.

“Yes sir,” she said, taking a seat in Wilhelm’s recently vacated chair. She noticed that Rhys remained quietly behind Jack, watching her with a hint of concern.

“Rhysie, go get me a sandwich,” Jack said, without turning to look at him.

Rhys paused a moment, looking at Jack wonderingly, then shrugged and left.

As soon as the metal doors slid shut behind Rhys, Jack stood and rounded the desk. He perched on the edge directly in front of Rei, legs spread wide and arms folded over his puffed out chest, obviously trying to intimidate her.

“Aurelia’s got a point, kitten. How do I know you’re trustworthy?”

“Well I did just sign a binding contract under threat of death, so there’s that.”

“Is it really enough, though? Don’t think I didn’t notice that you showed up armed, today.”

“But sir, you’re always armed. Can you really blame me?”

Jack leaned in, his face less than a foot from her own.

“So what, you were going to shoot me if I scared ya? Nah. You wouldn’t dare,” he said, reaching out to cup her chin. He tilted her head up, exposing her neck to him. Rei didn’t resist, partially out of fear…but more so because something hot and dangerous was brewing deep in her stomach.

“No, sir. I wouldn’t shoot you. I don’t think that would be in my best interest,” she said softly.

“Good,” he said with a chuckle. Jack grabbed her by the lapels of her lab coat and pulled her out of her chair, forcing her to stand between his legs. He lowered his head to her neck and brushed his lips against her jaw, making her shiver slightly. Rei could have sworn he was inhaling her scent like some sort of animal.

“I like you, Rei. I don’t want to have to get rid of you. Don’t make me do that, ok?” he murmured in her ear.

“You like what I can do for you. You barely know me,” corrected Rei, putting a hand on his chest and trying to push gently away from his grasp, but Jack didn’t yield.

“Do you always get so hands-on with your employees, or am I just lucky?” she quipped sharply, pushing against his chest in earnest. Jack let go and sat back, leaning on his hands.

“Sorry pumpkin, did I misread the situation? I thought we had a fun little thing going. I’m attractive…you’re attractive…You seem kinda into me. Your little neck would fit so perfectly in my hand,” Jack extended a large hand towards her neck, but paused, letting it fall back onto the desk. He began to drum his fingers impatiently against the dark, polished wood, clearly displeased with being forced to practice some self control.

“But we can keep this strictly professional if you want,” he said, a hint of irritation in his voice.

“Hmm. Not sure, boss. First you don’t trust me, then you want to fuck me…I think you need to make up your mind,” Rei said, dropping her hand from Jack’s chest to his thigh. She slid her hand slowly up his leg, inching closer to the subtle bulge growing under his zipper.

“Since when are those two things mutually exclusive?” Jack purred, tucking her long, chestnut hair behind her ear to reveal a thick, silver cuff in her cartilage. He grinned and tugged gently on the loop of metal, leaning in so his face was inches from hers.

There was a sudden thunder of gunshots outside Jack’s door, followed by screams. Jack jerked back, looking around wildly, then reached for the intercom next to his computer, slamming his fist down on the call button.

“RHYS! What the goddamn hell was that?!” he growled.

“Jack, you better get out here…we’ve got a situation,” Rhys’ panicked voice crackled over the intercom.

“Wait here, kitten,” he said, standing and attempting to adjust himself to hide his growing erection. Rei took a step back to let him pass, snickering to herself.

“I promise this is going to be far less funny to you later,” Jack said menacingly, towering over her, nearly a foot taller.

“Sure. Go get ‘em tiger.”

Jack glared at her for a moment, then turned on his heel, sprinting across the enormous room and through the great metal doors. Rei waited a moment, then quietly followed, stopping at the doorframe to peer at the commotion outside. There, in the middle of the hallway, stood a burly man in a Hyperion guard uniform, an enormous machine gun in one hand and Rhys’ neck in the other.

Rei’s stomach sank; the shooter was one of her plugs, specifically Ian Lynch, who she had instructed to watch her back since discovering Jack’s intense interest in her. But what the hell had happened? Some of her distributers were thugs, sure, but they knew better than to get violent inside Hyperion headquarters.

Jack advanced on the man slowly, gun drawn, face twisted with rage.

“Don’t do anything stupid, asshole… That’s Hyperion property you’re screwing with.” he snarled.

“Hah! You’re not as ruthless as they say, Jackie boy, otherwise you would have just shot me already and let this twerp take a bullet to the head. You’re all talk, ain’t ya?” said the assailant.

Jack looked like he was seriously considering doing just that, gun aimed at the man’s head, but his finger was absent from the trigger.

Rei stepped out of the office, striding quickly down the hall.

“LYNCH. Drop him. Now,” she commanded, drawing her own gun from it’s holster.

“There you are, Barrett, you fucking weasel. I’ve been waiting for you,” he hissed.

“You know this guy? And Jesus fucking Christ kid, didn’t I say to wait in my office? You’re gonna get sh-“

“If it’s me you’re after, then what the fuck are you doing, Lynch?” asked Rei, cutting Jack off.

“I caught him eavesdropping, he was recording near your door” choked Rhys. Lynch gave him a hard shake.

“Shut up. Yeah, I was listening in on your little meeting. Sorry to interrupt just as you were about to let Handsome Jack bend you over his desk, bitch, but this little shit came along and blew my cover. Wasn’t gonna shoot anyone today, but he kinda gave me no choice. Little shit came at me with a stun baton.”

“So let him go and tell me what you fucking want already,” huffed Rei.

“I want the two of you,” he said, jerking his head toward Jack and Rei, “to stay the fuck away from Pandora. I don’t give a fuck what you do to your Hyperion lackeys- drug ‘em, torture ‘em, I don’t care- but you’re not getting anywhere near my people and you sure as hell aren’t taking over my planet. So I guess what I’m really saying is that I want you both dead.”

“A small time drug pusher with a hero complex. Cute,” said Rei smarmily. Jack stared at her, eyes wide with surprise.

“He’s one of yours?”

“Not my best and definitely not my brightest, but yeah. He seems to be forgetting that he agreed to sell some pretty dangerous shit to people on Helios just so I would get him off Pandora. Ease up on Rhys’ neck, or you’re gonna kill your only bargaining chip, Lynch,” Rei said, noticing Rhys squirming and struggling for breath as Lynch’s grip tightened in irritation.

“Alright, enough of this,” said Jack impatiently. He flipped on his cloaking device and vanished.

“STAY BACK! I’M FUCKING WARNING YOU, JACK!” Lynch shouted, looking around wildly. Rei took advantage of the distraction and hurled herself at Lynch, knocking both him and Rhys to the floor, just barely keeping her own footing by landing in a cat-like crouch. There was a sickening crack as an invisible force came smashing down on Lynch’s wrist, forcing him to release the gun. He howled in pain as Jack reappeared above him, kicking his gun across the hall. Jack aimed his own weapon at Lynch’s groin, a manic gleam in his eye.

“That’s better. Now let Rhysie go or I’ll shoot your fucking dick off.”

Lynch stared venomously at Jack for a moment, then loosened his grip on Rhys, allowing him to pull away and scramble to his feet.

“Good. Hand over that recording and I won’t torture you to death. I don’t really care if your little bandit friends know we’re coming for them, but I’m not ready to make that announcement just yet. I wanted it to be special,” Jack said with a mock pout.

“Why the fuck would I do that? Let’s be honest, Jack, you’re just going to kill me anyway,” spat Lynch, attempting to sit up on his elbows.

“You’re wrong,” said Rei, planting a boot on either side of his hips and crouching down so their faces were level. She placed the muzzle of her pistol gently between his eyes and leaned closer to whisper in his ear.

“I am going to kill you.” Rei pulled the trigger. The crack of gunfire resonated through the empty hall and a spray of crimson droplets spattered Rei’s face and lab coat. Lynch slumped back in a pool of his own blood and brain matter.

Jack stood motionless, mouth slightly agape, staring at Rei.

“That was…oh my god…so fuckin’ hot, I mean, I can’t even-“

“He’s wearing a wire. It’s still transmitting to somewhere…somewhere nearby,” interrupted Rhys.

He had pressed himself as flat as possible against a nearby wall, as if trying to make his lanky form disappear into the metal. He took a shaky step forward, gingerly rubbing a blossoming bruise around his neck.

“I picked it up with my Echo eye. Couldn’t figure out why that guy was lurking around Jack’s door, so I gave him a scan. Where are you going?” Rhys said, noticing Rei slowly backing away.

His Echo eye sparked to life and raked over her, his mouth falling open in surprise. The receiver for the wire was nestled in Rei’s pocket.

“Oh. Oh shit. You? Why?”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” snarled Jack, stomping over to her so he could make the vast difference in their sizes all the more evident as he loomed over her. She looked up at him wearily, realizing the jig was up.

“I…gave it to him. I told him to tail you and try to get something… to blackmail you with… in case I didn’t like the terms of your deal,” she mumbled sheepishly.

“So why was he here now? Couldn’t you just record me yourself?” asked Jack in a low, dangerous hiss, his eyes narrowed to slits.

“I asked him to watch my back. Like I said before, it really wouldn’t be in my best interest to shoot you. But…Lynch could have easily done it and left Helios for a while, if need be.”

“You really are a fuckin’ weasel, you know that? Give me one good reason not to shoot you right now.”

“Jack, she just helped you save my life…” muttered Rhys.

“She’s also the one who almost got you killed.”

“Look, I’m not sorry for protecting myself, but I honestly didn’t mean for Lynch to do a damn thing at all unless- SHIT, OW!”

Rei cried out as he roughly grabbed both of her wrists with one large hand, hoisting her arms above her head, forcing her to drop her gun. He pulled her up until the steel toes of her boots barely brushed the floor and gently placed the barrel of his gun under her chin, tipping her head up to look at him, all the while crushing her wrists in his powerful grip.

“JACK! Knock it off! Come on, you need her, remember?” Rhys protested, loudly and firmly this time.

“Yeah, you need me,” Rei hissed.

Jack glared at her furiously as he gave her wrists a twist that made her whimper, then lowered her slowly.

“Congrats, sweetheart, that’s strike three. First you use my company to run your little drug ring, then you try to blackmail me, then you try to kill me? Looks like you just earned yourself an early ticket to Pandora. Normally I’d toss you in a holding cell and let you rot there until I need ya, but I don’t trust that you’ll be a good girl if I let you out of my sight. So you’re taking Rhysie’s place and coming with me to help take care of some business. So glad you’re not shy about murder. Hopefully you don’t have to kill anyone you know, but… I wouldn’t count on it,” he purred, his voice dripping with honey and poison as he gave her wrists another twist.

Rei shoved a knee into his groin, not hard enough to hurt him, but with enough force to serve as a warning. Much to her surprise, she felt him half hard inside his jeans. He was clearly enjoying menacing her. Rei pressed a little harder and his cock gave an interested twitch under her knee, sparking a twisted pang of lust in her stomach.

“You want a mountain of dead bandits? You got it boss. Nice rage boner, by the way,” she snickered. Jack released her and stepped back, adjusting himself once again to hide the bulge in his pants.

“Don’t push me, cupcake, I think it’s evident how much I want to break you right now. You’re on the next shuttle with me to Pandora, pack your shit and be at the departure terminal in two hours. Rhys, you keep an eye on her, I’ve got shit to do. Oh, and give me that,” he snarled, thrusting a large hand roughly into the pocket of her lab coat and rifling through it. He pulled out the receiver and a small joint, inspecting them both, then dropped the receiver and smashed it under the heel of his shoe.

“What’s this?” he said, waving the joint in Rei’s face.

“Just plain old weed. Take it, on the house. I can’t think of anyone who needs to chill the fuck out more than you, right now,” she said brazenly.

“So help me god, I am going to…”  Jack mimed strangling the air in front of him.

“My point exactly.”

He made an aggravated noise in the back of his throat and stomped back down the hall, leaving Rei eyeing Rhys suspiciously while he uncomfortably shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Sorry about him. It’s really hard to calm him down when he gets like that,” Rhys said with a weary sigh.

“Nah, I would be pissed, too, if I were him. I would have kept monitoring him if I hadn’t been caught, and maybe not entirely for safety’s sake. If I have to destroy my home planet, I want to make sure I’m getting my fair share of the reward,” she said shrewdly.

“Well he shouldn’t have put his hands on you, at least. He can really do some damage if he’s not careful.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” said Rei, examining the angry red fingerprints around her wrists. “You seem to know him pretty well. What exactly are you to Jack? Personal assistant? Babysitter?”

Rhys laughed weakly. “Technically I was a middle management coder, but Jack took a special interest in me because…well, not to brag, but I’m a pretty great hacker,” he said with a hint of smugness. “So now I’m kind of…his protégé, I guess? But lately he’s been using me as an assistant because he freaking killed so many that no one wants the job anymore. He’s such a big, murderous baby sometimes.”

“Volatile psychopath is more like it.”

“Hah, yeah. You know…and don’t quote me on this because he’s pretty hard to read… but I think Jack was really disappointed about the whole blackmail thing. He seemed to really like you, kept talking about plans for his promising new “lab nerd”, and uh… something about bending you over his desk and uh…Well he was pretty excited that you weren’t a dude. And that you’re one of us,” Rhys said with a wink.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, attractive. In the 8 and up club. Grade A, Hyperion made.”

“God, you really are his protégé,” Rei said, picking up her gun and returning it to her holster.

“Hey, those are his words, not mine. You got a little something right here,” Rhys said, pointing to his cheek. Rei dragged her already bloodstained sleeve across her face, adding more crimson to it.

“Better?”

“You kinda just smeared it around…here.” Rhys wiped her cheek with the back of his hand, pausing just a moment too long before breaking contact. Rei raised an eyebrow and he blushed slightly.

“So, uh, we better get going,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

“Yep. Clearly I need a shower. Come on, Jack junior, let’s roll,” she said, taking off down the hall, Rhys hurrying after her.

#handsome jack #borderlands #borderlands 2 #fanfic #fan fiction #ao3 #ao3 writer #rhys #smut #adventure #video games #writing #rhys strongfork #handsome jack x oc #handsome jack x rhys #rhack #hyperion #sex drugs & space chaos

[edelwoodsouls]

maybe in another universe - ch. 1 [fic]

Jon isn’t expecting anything good when he’s evacuated to the countryside. Living with his crush rival he can just about handle. The secret magical world in the upstairs wardrobe, on the other hand, might just break him.

AKA: Narnia AU

Word Count: 2,707 | Also on Ao3 | Other Chapters: 2,

chapter one: the train to everywhere

As the train leaves the station, Jon doesn't look back.

The corridors outside his carriage are filled with other kids, craning their necks out of the windows to wave at their parents, tears streaming down their faces. It's a mess of loud noise and emotion that makes Jon wholly uncomfortable.

There's no one for him to look back to, no one to share tears with. No one to yell at him, you'll be home before you know it! and have fun, dear! it's okay!

He curls his arms around his suitcase and stares out the opposite window, at the vanishing buildings. Smoke shimmers over the horizon, mixing with the clouds, and Jon tries to imagine the view from above. When the planes fly overhead, do they recognise the smothered lights flickering below? Do they spare a thought for the bodies on the other side of the flames?

The corners of his suitcase begin to dig painfully into his skin.

Before he can spiral any further, the door to the compartment rattles open with a sudden gunshot sound that sets every nerve in his body alight.

He flinches and turns to see a girl roughly his own age, head swathed in a dark blue hijab, pressing her lips in an apologetic line.

"Sorry," she shrugs noncommittally, inclining her head. "Is that seat taken?"

"Uh, no."

"So I can take it?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks." She shoulders her way into the room, heaving her own suitcase up onto the rack above their heads with an easy movement. Jon grips his own sheepishly - several blows to the head have taught him that he is nowhere near strong enough to haul it up that high.

The girl settles into the seat opposite him, retrieves a book from the recesses of her thick navy trench coat. It's a weathered copy of The Iliad, well-thumbed and annotated.

He's leaning forward curiously before he can help himself.

The girl looks up with raised eyebrows. "Nosy much?"

"Sorry," he shrinks back behind the large bulk in his lap. "I just- I used to have that same copy. Before..."

The girl's face softens, infinitessimly. "It's one of my favourites," she offers, almost apologetically. "I started keeping all my books in the shelter a few months ago. It's the only reason this survived."

Jon says nothing - there's nothing he can really say. In this moment, they are just two strangers, sharing a burning world.

"I'm Basira," the girl says, with a decisive look. "I'm from Finchley, being evacuated to Dorset. You?"

"Uh- same," Jon blinks, surprised. "I'm Jon. I've- I've never seen you before?"

"I mean, I imagine you go to the boys' school."

"Not until last year."

"Oh."

Jon glances down at his hands, hoping Basira can't see the way his fingers are white-knuckled against his suitcase.

"Well, I was new before-" she waves her arms vaguely, "all this. Home-schooled. So not really surprising."

"Oh." Slowly, one by one, Jon allows his muscles to relax. "That must've been nice. Quiet."

"That's one word for it," Basira mutters in a way that implies a hundred other meanings than nice. "I was really looking forward to actually getting to know people, y'know? New people, my own age."

"Well, you know me now?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do."

Jon tries for a smile, but it comes out as something more of a grimace. All the same, Basira seems to get the sentiment, and returns it.

~/~/~/~

Martin hates trains.

In theory, they're the perfect vessel. Hours of uninterrupted time, the world moving beneath your feet as you curl into a seat with a hot cup of tea and your favourite paperback.

But he hasn't been on a train since his mother sent him away to London, and that sort of memory tends to leave one with a distaste by association.

Now here he is, only a few years later, being sent away again.

He's just glad his mother refused to take him in. He's not sure he could bear going back to that house, potentially indefintiely.

All the same, he's trying to make the best out of the journey that he can. He's heard horror stories of other evacuees, forced to work on farms or taken in only to be used for their ration cards. If that's the sort of fate he's headed for, he'll take the luxury of a nice cuppa and the drafting of a few poems whilst it's still there.

And he really is in the perfect place for it. The smouldering London skyline behind him, the fathomless countryside ahead. A world in flux and chaos, defined in fire and water.

He notes that down in his journal.

"Any good thoughts?" Melanie asks through a mouthful of sandwich.

Martin blinks up at the girl sharing his compartment, an embodiment of chaos if ever he's seen one. She's lying across the seats opposite him, her suitcase open and contents strewn everywhere - she'd been digging through it to find something inane which turned out to be in her pocket the whole time, and hasn't bothered to pack it up again.

Martin's hands itch to tidy the space - instead he grips his pen a little too hard and settles for a quzzical smile.

"Your writing," she points with the corner of her sandwich. "You look very deep in concentration and dramatic. Any good thoughts?"

"I suppose," he shrugs, retreating somewhat under Melanie's energetic gaze. "Something about dichotomies. Peace and war, fire and water. City and country."

"Men and women, nurse and soldier. Alive and dead."

Martin raises an eyebrow. "I guess."

"Hey- if there's any time to be morbid, it's during a war, dontcha think?"

"True. Do you write?"

"Nope. I do photography, though."

Martin can feel himself getting interested despite himself. "Really? Do you have a camera?"

Melanie nudges at the pile of clothes somehow still heaped in the boundaries of her suitcase, revealing the packaging of a beautiful, sleek camera piece that makes Martin fall a little in love with this stranger instantly.

"Is that a Retina I?" he asks, unable to quite keep the awe out of his voice.

"You really know your tech," Melanie says approvingly. "Yeah, it is. I'm going to be a supernaturalist."

"A what?"

"A supernaturalist, Martin. I'm going to be the first person to prove that ghosts exist. I'm going to get one on film."

"Huh."

Martin deliberately avoids Melanie's eyes. To believe in the supernatural is not generally approved of, let alone to talk about it with the sudden reverence and conviction that have crept into Melanie's voice.

He's gotten very used to pretending he's never seen anything out of the ordinary. The smoke that follows him around like a shadow, the spiders that seem to understand him just a little too intelligently - they all have mundane explanations.

He's never met someone so open about such things.

He lasts a matter of seconds before his tongue gets the better of him. "What've you seen?"

Melanie grins, as if she's been waiting from the moment they met just for him to ask. "I got shot by a ghost."

Martin almost knocks over his tea. "I'm sorry?"

"I got shot by a ghost."

"Yeah, you said that already. What I meant to say was, what the fuck?"

Melanie looks delighted to have his attention. She reaches down and rolls her sock to her ankle, revealing a garish red scar screaming across her leg. "London's full of ghosts, if you hadn't noticed. They just love the chaos that's going on right now, always wandering all over the place when the streets are empty and everyone's hidden in their shelters."

"I'm guessing you're not one for shelters," Martin says dryly, attempting to smother the sheer confusion and excitement doing battle in his brain.

"Of course not," Melanie scoffs. "They won't let me enlist because I'm a girl, but, I mean, have you seen some of the boys in charge of Finchley's bomb clearance?"

"A lot of them were in the year above me at school," Martin nods. He could say far more bitter things, but he keeps his mouth shut.

"They're kids, just like us," Melanie nods, a furious look in her eyes. "I wouldn't trust them to protect me from a particularly vicious duck, let alone the end of days raining from the sky."

Martin grins in agreement. Despite initial perceptions, he's starting to like Melanie a lot.

A shame they'll only get to know each other for this one train ride, likely never to hear from each other again. Unless Melanie does actually become famous for photographing ghosts, and he becomes famous for his poetry, and maybe they'll meet at a gala sixty years from now and not recognise each other at all.

Martin mentally kicks himself out of that particular spiral. He's always had a problem with melancholy, and the world being on fire has hardly done anything to improve him.

He's convinced it's what makes him a good poet.

"Hey," he says, to distract himself. "Where are you being sent to?"

"Some professor," Melanie shrugs. "Probably a stuffy old bat who'll put you to work if she finds a single fingerprint in the dust. Academics are all the same, from what I've seen."

Martin looks down at his own tag, brown paper tied with fraying string, looped around his neck by a disinterested attendant at the posting office. He hasn't actually had the nerve to read the name yet.

His heart picks up. "Melanie... it's not Professor Gertrude Robinson, is it?"

~/~/~/~/~

"...But Patroclus called to his comrades with a loud shout: “Myrmidons, ye comrades of Achilles, son of Peleus, be men, my friends, and bethink you of furious valour, to the end that we may win honour for the son of Peleus, that is far the best of the Argives by the ships, himself and his squires that fight in close combat; and that the son of Atreus, wide-ruling Agamemnon, may know his blindness in that he honoured not at all the best of the Achaeans-"

"Achilles is such an idiot," Basira interrupts, rolling her eyes and flipping the coin in her palm in absent, distracted movements.

Jon raises an eyebrow and lowers the book. "I can stop, if you'd prefer."

"No, no, you're okay. You've got a surprisingly good voice for this stuff. I'm glad you suggested it."

They've been taking turns reading aloud, switching out every few pages to pass the time, since Jon has no books of his own. But Basira seems to have quickly decided that Jon is a born narrator and delegated all further reading to him.

He's been glowing faintly from the praise ever since.

The journey has flown by - as time often does when Jon's hyperfixations make an appearance - but for once he doesn't feel guilty about indulging it. Basira seems just as fascinated, somehow, and he greatly enjoys her interruptions.

"You don't think Achilles is an idiot?" she asks, crossing her legs and leaning forward intently.

"No, I definitely do- he sends his boyfriend out to fight a war he isn't prepared for just because of a grudge and then throws a tantrum when that hubris gets him killed. He's definitely an idiot."

"Oh good," Basira says, visibly relieved. "For a moment there I thought we were going to have to argue."

Jon laughs, and the sound comes easier than it has in a while. This realisation crawls under his skin, cutting the sound short. He looks out of the window for some semblance of escape-

"Hey! Look!" He points out at the approaching train station, a quaint thing, barely more than a slab of stone emerging from a field. But the sign, rusted as it is, reads the same as the looping handwriting on the label around his neck does.

"Oh joy," Basira sighs. "Countryside air and a new family who'll probably hate me."

"Where are you being sent?" Jon asks, more hopeful than he's willing to admit. "Maybe we'll be neighbours."

"The household of Professor Gertrude Robinson," she reads from her own label.

"So am I!" Jon's heart leaps high in his chest despite himself. "You know, if we're with a professor, she might- I mean, she probably isn't a rough work kind of person- so maybe... this won't be so awful after all?"

Of course, Jon has always had a habit of speaking too soon.

~/~/~/~/~

Gathering Melanie's discarded belongings is a predictably chaotic affair, but she executes it with the practiced air of someone who lives that way every day.

Martin can't decide whether he's excited or dreading living with this girl.

As soon as they sprawl out onto the platform with seconds to spare, Martin realises that Melanie's mess is the least of his worries.

Because perched on the station's only bench, face knitted into his iconic perpetual frown, eyes squinting against the sun, is Jonathan fucking Sims.

Next to his suitcase, and wearing a knitted jumper several sizes too big, he looks tiny. The tall hijabi girl standing on top of the bench, looking searchingly into the distant fields, only serves to exaggerate this.

Melanie notices the sudden drain in his skin immediately, and follows his gaze. "For fucks sake."

"You know him?" Martin asks faintly, resisting the urge to brush his hands through his hair, or smooth his clothes. Jon doesn't care what he looks like, doesn't care about him. He should've learnt back in primary school that being rivals isn't something to be romanticised.

But his heart doesn't seem to get the message as a stray gust of wind dances in Jon's dark hair, and it skips a beat.

"Do I know Jonathan fucking Sims?" Melanie grits out, heaving her suitcase roughly over one shoulder. "That guy is such a wanker. 'Ghosts are for idiots, Melanie. Just a romantic ideal made up by delusional people afraid of the dark.'"

"He's not that bad," Martin begins to protest before he can stop himself, "he's just been through a lot."

"Doesn't excuse him being a dick," Melanie grumbles. "Not to mention he used to date my girlfriend. Always having a disaster and blazing back into her life. What I wouldn't give for five minutes one on one, I'd teach him..."

Melanie goes on muttering under her breath, but Martin barely hears, because Jon has just met his eyes and nothing else in the world matters. There's surprise, then panic, before his expression settles back into a frown.

Martin sighs. It's not as if he should've expected anything else.

"Come on," he says to Melanie, picking up his suitcase. "We'd better get it over with."

The walk to close their distance seems to take hours, and somehow no time at all.

"Martin," Jon greets him with a clipped, emotionless tone.

"Hey, Jon," Martin smiles, refusing to let the other boy's walls get him down. "And you are?"

"Basira," the girl nods, still standing high above them and glancing distractedly towards the dirt path, likely looking for whoever will be along to pick up evacuees. "I guess you guys already know each other?"

"They go to school together," Melanie brushes off the explanation, before introducing herself, too. "Now we're all acquainted, how long before we never have to see each other again?"

Basira's eyes flick silently between the three of them, clearly noting the tension, but saying nothing.

"We're in the same house," Jon says stiffly. "I don't know about you two. I'm sure there are other benches you can loiter at."

"Well we're in the same house," Melanie shoots back, linking her arm with Martin and holding tight. She's a lot stronger than she looks.

An awful thought dawns on Martin, quickly encompassing and eclipsing anything else. "Where..." he swallows around his dry throat, "who are you guys with?"

Martin watches as Jon's eyes widen. Glance down at his own label, across at theirs, and back.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Martin wants to burrow into the ground and hide somewhere his blushing cheeks could never be seen. He shouldn't be surprised, really. This summer was already looking down, being far from London, living with strangers, adjusting to pretending to be whatever fit in most.

Living with the crush who hates his guts is somehow the only escalation that makes sense.

#the magnus archives #fanfiction #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #narnia au #own work #morgan writes

[freewilllife]

How do you think Soowon feels about II, do you think there was ever a time where he loved him, I remember that I read in the akatsuki no yona Novell, that he mentioned something about the fact that he never got any steamed buns from II and hak always did, he seemed to have complicated feelings towards II, how would you describe his feelings towards him throughout his life( when he was a child, and as he was growing up)

In fact, Soo Won did. When he was a child.

Dear anon, we do not know, what exactly Soo Won felt, since we barely know something about their relationship.

But I try...

In his childhood Soo Won seemed to like his uncle. We hear him say no negative things. Soo Won merely associates positive things with his uncle or even defends him (however also partly for Yona´s sake.)

Look how happy he is about the good relationship between King Il and his daughter...

I guess that their relationship changed after the death of Yu hon...

I do think that this scene happened after Yu hon´s death since Yona´s hair is longer than in chapter 60 and 61 and this event happened directly before the death of Yu hon.

I do think this reaction is too forceful and unkind to a child that has just lost his father...(But that is merely my interpretation...)

However Soo Won seemed to have already planned to kill King Il, when he was 12 years old...

Soo Won already was aware of the relationship between Kai Empire and Kouka and the potential threat. He started to talk to Geuntae about it...It appears harmless, but I do think that it was all part of his goal to search for comrades, fellows.

A habit he also demonstrates later...

what is a fact is...that Soo Won was forbidden by King Il to take part in tournaments for example...even though far younger children of other tribes were able to participate.

When Soo Won is 18 years old, directly before the coup, both King Il and Soo Won pretend to be friendly towards each other...

However, one week before the coup, Soo Won actually rebelled against King Il´s wishes...just like the announcement of the later coup...

Honestly...we still don´t know if the nightmare of Soo Won was actually a memory or Soo Won´s own guilty conscience making up some things...

But we do know at least a couple of things about it...

First...King Il was the one, who told Soo Won about Yona being the reincarnation...

There is actually an interesting thing regarding this translation...Here it says “reincarnation of King Hiryuu”, which is pretty neutral...however the other version in later chapters says...

“the crimson dragon king´s avatar” as if Yona was merely a vessel for King Il...which was a little disturbing for me...If not for the previous chapter with Yon hi, where he also related to Yon hi as if she was an object...I would not have bothered...

In that context, it is very interesting how he refused the marriage between Soo Won and Yona...

“I cannot give Soo Won to you”...As if he was an object...Ironically KIng Il had explained how many things he had given her before...as if Soo Won was merely one of them...

So does King Il consider both Soo Won and even his own daughter merely objects or heavenly “chunk”, in Yona´s case a vessel ?

Let´s continue...Second we can also notice that Soo Won did not wish for Yona being the reincarnation, but not because he would be simply jealous, but because this person is the worst for Soo Won...

Third, however, for King Il it was really important that Yona was the reincarnation and seeing that he proudly told Soo Won about it, it seems as if it had not changed.

Look at the picture of the 30 year old Il, thinking that Yu hon “too, desired the king” and indirectly he admits therefore, that he craved for the “Red Dragon King”.

So here we have one thing that must have fueled Soo Won´s hate apart from the murder of Yu hon...

Then we leave the “facts”....

1. In Soo Won´s nightmare, we hear King Il declare that Yona will kill him (and therefore take revenge...)

2. We also see that King Il has already expected Soo Won...So it was no surprise to him that his nephew wished to kill him. He did not wonder why...which could be a proof that

a)he really killed his brother

b) or that he had the wrong image in the head since Soo Won was the heir of King Hiryuu, he would try to take the throne or

c) he kept a close watch on Soo Won´s activies and wished to play a martyr.

I think with King Il´s strange perception of King Hiryuu that naturally clashed with Soo Won´s, with the murder of Yu hon and most likely also King Il´s treatment of Soo Won...we have at least a possible explanation for Soo Won´s hate towards King Il

I hope I could help anon!

#akatsuki no yona #soo won #su won #king il

[baepsaetan]

Banner by @thebannershop​

Summary: In a futuristic age where a person can be coded and inserted into a new body, the rich can live forever. Born to a wealthy family, Jin expects to live life at a lofty and uncaring height. His expectations go awry when his body is murdered and a small gang steals his ‘stack’ and resleeves him in a criminal. Thrust into a gritty, neon world far below his life as an immortal, where death can be Real, Jin will discover truths that challenge his perceptions and make him wonder what - if anything - immortality is worth.

Chapters: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt.5, pt. 6, pt. 7 -> read on Ao3

Genre: Altered Carbon Fusion, Science Fiction/Futuristic, Slow Burn, Smut, Angst, Murder Mystery

Warnings: Shifting PoVs (primarily Jin), minor character death, abuse, torture, gangs, drug addiction, drug use, references to depression, body dysphoria, animal death, swearing, smut in future chapters

Length: 7.1k

//

Before he’s even aware of the sound of the shot – maybe even before the sound is made – Jin is flying. Almost literally. Someone hip checks him so hard that his feet, not firmly planted to begin with, leave the ground, and as he falls, he crashes into Namjoon, sending them both sprawling off the sidewalk. They land in the road in a tangle of limbs, groans and (in Namjoon’s case) curses. Several more shots ring out, Jin’s brain too slow on the uptake to do anything more than cringe and sort of hug the ground, expecting to feel the impact of a bullet at any second.

Jungkook is not so slow.

After he’d shoved Seokjin out of the way, he’d drawn his own weapon and started firing at the woman, as well as several other people who’ve swarmed out from the cars they’d hidden behind. Now, as Seokjin clings for dear life to the pavement, blood thundering in his ears and eyes wildly scouring the street, he finds his mouth falling open. Two bodies have already joined Namjoon and Jin on the pavement, slumped figures that move only feebly, and even as Jin lifts his head a bit more, Jungkook finds another mark and she joins her companions on the ground, clutching at her shoulder. Jin thinks she might be screaming – her mouth is open – but all he can hear is his own stampeding heartbeat and an occasional popping noise that must be the guns firing.

It adds to the air of unrealism, but Jungkook is the main focus of this nightmare. So fast his hands blur, he changes out a cartridge and keeps shooting, seamless and assured. He’s already moved to set himself between Namjoon and the attackers, though the position isn’t as deadly as it would have been even a few seconds prior. Jungkook’s rapid and accurate aim has forced their enemies to take cover behind cars, abandoning their three comrades where they fell. The trio don’t last long; with cool precision, Jungkook takes an extra moment and shoots all three in the heads before resuming firing at anyone who dares to show any part of their body from behind their shields.

He had suspected Jungkook was harboring neurochems and some variety of physical enhancements – he just moved too fluidly to be entirely natural – but the unadulterated violence of the other man has Jin transfixed and shaking. There’s blood on the ground by the bodies, blood and – other things – and a part of him is trying to remember that it’s sleeves – just sleeves – that were destroyed so casually. That part is dim and very far away. Was this how his own murderer had killed him, as easily as tapping a button, and with as much concern?

The violence drops to a simmer as quickly as it flared up, the flurry of bullets slowing, and Jin’s hearing returns only when Namjoon grabs him by both shoulders and shakes him. “Seokjin! Snap out of it! Damn it, can you hear me?”

He takes in the other’s excruciatingly tense expression with a befuddled stare, and his eyes widen when he realizes they’re not in the center of the street anymore but huddled against a vehicle. Namjoon must have dragged him here, but he hadn’t even… With a tremendous effort, Seokjin shakes his head, chasing away the fogged paralyses wrapping his appendages and brain in cotton, unsure what to feel about Namjoon risking life and limb to get him to the shelter. “Yeah,” he gasps, “yeah, I hear you. What do we do?”

“Keep your head low. You see that dumpster?” Namjoon uses the hand not holding his own gun to point out a green behemoth of a dumpster a few meters behind them, set at the mouth of an alley between two of the industrial buildings. “Get behind it.”  

“Namjoon, there’s someone going around the cars on the far side,” Jungkook calls, his warning followed closely by two quick bangs as he fires at whoever it is. “I can’t get them, not with those assholes still up the street.”

It takes a moment to understand what Jungkook means, though Jin gets it eventually. If he turns to follow the movement of the person darting along the side, the assailants in front will have time to get out of cover and shoot; it’s only Jungkook’s constant vigilance that’s keeping them pinned down.

Appallingly steady, like they’re just having a normal conversation, Namjoon replies, “I’ve got him. I’ll – Seokjin, get behind that dumpster before you get yourself killed. I’ll cover you, Jungkook.”

Doing as he’s bid takes a courage all its own; moving from even this pitiful shelter feels like inviting a spotlight to fall on him, with a ‘shoot me’ sign put up for good measure. But Jin can’t just sit there. Who knew what would happen if he got killed again? Best case scenario, his stack would be ransomed back to his parents, but that’s a very best case, and besides, his parents hadn’t put him back in a sleeve the first time, had they? What if it’s the same the next time around? The best case wouldn’t really be best case then, would it?

Better to stick with the pink haired devil he knows.

Clenching his teeth, he psyches himself up for a heartbeat more before flinging himself into a running crouch. Almost immediately several gunshots ring out and Jin is pretty sure he’s not imagining the crack of bullets whipping by. As he tumbles behind the protection of the metal bulk, he definitely doesn’t imagine the chorus of voices shouting, “It’s him, he’s there!” Even more bullets come his way – one hits into the dumpster with a tortured scream of metal – but Jungkook makes the shooters pay for the attempt if a pained yell is anything to go by.

Did that mean these psychopaths were trying to get him specifically? And was ‘him’ Seokjin, or were they after Siwoo for some reason? And how’d they know who he was, where they would be? Could that girl from the club have told someone, not anywhere near as fooled as he’d thought she’d been? Gasping for breath, his back pressed into the reassuring hardness of the dumpster, Jin can’t get his scattered thoughts together enough to figure out what any of it means. Not being able to see what’s going on just fuels his hammering heart, but he’s not stupid enough to think that sticking his head out is a good idea.

Except for the person still screaming in pain, it’s gone very quiet.

Had Namjoon already shot the person trying to flank them? Or had he been shot himself? Could that be why he and Jungkook aren’t talking to each other? What if Namjoon’s dead?

The thought sets him to trembling, violent shudders that wrack his body for a reason he’s not anywhere near calm enough to identify. No matter how fast or hard he blinks, Seokjin can’t seem to clear away the picture of rivulets of red streaming from the heads of those people Jungkook killed. He can’t stop himself from imagining Namjoon in exactly the same position, slumped over, hair tinged a colour far less innocent than peach, the exit wound a gaping hole that’s there because Seokjin couldn’t move fast enough.

An unfamiliar voice rips through the macabre picture, tearing Jin’s focus back to reality. “You fuckers are fucking dead, you hear me? Fucking dead!”

“Not as dead as your friends,” Jungkook yells back, and Seokjin can almost picture the maddening grin he’s probably wearing. It helps, too, because he instinctively knows the boy wouldn’t say something like that if Namjoon had been shot.

His intuition proves correct. Namjoon joins the yelling contest a moment later, louder than the string of swears Jungkook’s comment elicited. “You’ve already lost too many people, whoever the hell you are. Why don’t you just walk away? It’s not gonna get any easier from here.”

There’s a pause, and stupid or not, Jin can’t bear the laden tension anymore. He peeks around the dumpster. It takes him a while to locate everyone. The few pedestrians who he could have sworn were around before have up and vanished. Namjoon and Jungkook have moved closer to his hiding spot, Jungkook on his side of the street, Namjoon on the other. From this angle he can just make out a few people, muffled under hoodies, crouched on the sidewalk. If he’d had a gun, he might have been able to pick one or two of them off (but probably not). It’s impossible to tell how many there are. And unless he’s very much mistaken, they’re on both sides of the streets now, using the cars as cover to creep closer.

The closest one, just a few cars from where Namjoon is crouched, trusts the vehicle’s protective abilities too much. He moves away from the front area of the car he’s cowering behind, probably intending to move one more car down, and Jin sees Junkook’s head snap to the movement. A second later and the gun follows, sending five or six bullets across the street to shred through the vehicle’s doors. At least one finds its target, because there’s a sharp yelp and the man collapses, writhing on the sidewalk.

It’d be easy for Namjoon or Jungkook to take him out. Seemingly following that train of thought, the former shifts, about to lean around the car he’s behind.

The same voice from before makes him pause. “Hold up! You’re right it ain’t gonna get easier, but that’s for you, not us. We got all fucking day to drown you assholes out.” A beat. “But maybe we don’t wanna go to the bother of getting new sleeves. Maybe we’re feeling generous. I got a deal for you. You give us Seokjin, and you walk away. Don’t, and I’m going to crush your fucking stacks myself. We know he was at the Ring, that he’s with you now. You really feel like facing Real Death for some prick of a Meth?”

Jungkook looks towards Namjoon, just a twitch of distraction, and his leader doesn’t immediately reply. He’s facing Jin’s hiding spot, eyes slightly narrowed, and Seokjin can only stare at him helplessly, heart in his throat. He doesn’t have a weapon, nothing to defend himself with, no bargaining chip to offer. Namjoon’s goodwill – and, realistically, Seokjin’s usefulness to Namjoon’s group – are his only shields, flimsy though they are. And they are flimsy. First the failure to find anything useful at the Ring, and then, what had Namjoon said? I’m not risking my crew for a Meth…    

Right. So, he’s screwed.

“We can’t give him up.” Given that the hissed objection comes from Jungkook, Jin could not have been more surprised if God Himself had spoken from Heaven. Even Namjoon looks taken aback. The muscular gunman shifts his weight restlessly, eyes never leaving their scanning track across the road. “We can’t just let them beat on us like this,” he adds, not able to whisper because of Namjoon’s distance, but attempting to keep his voice low, nonetheless. “They’ll expect us to roll over like dogs all the time.”

He sounds disgusted at the prospect of losing, and for all that Jin feels a sudden rush of warmth towards the kid, he can’t help but think that competitiveness isn’t going to be enough to persuade Namjoon. A moment later, though, gaze still skimming the street, Jungkook says flatly, “Besides, they just sent a few people down the side streets further down. They’re probably gonna go around the block and come up behind us.”

Automatically Jin turns, checking their backs; the street is utterly deserted, for the moment. It makes him wonder, fleetingly, where the few civilians he’d seen before have gone (hopefully to call the police), but Namjoon pulls his attention back.

“He’s stalling, huh? I guess it was too much to expect this trash to be honest.” Namjoon shifts, pulls his green camo coat open and seems to be searching for something. “I’ve got two magazines left. You?”

“One.”

Namjoon tosses one of his black cases to Jungkook, who catches it deftly. The pink haired man is wearing a strange expression; he’s smiling, a thin, lopsided quirk of his lips, but when his gaze goes to Jungkook, his eyes are wretched. The sharp regret doesn’t change when they shift briefly to Jin, though Jin had been expecting rage, or at the least accusation. Maybe that wouldn’t have been fair – it’s not like he chose to be here, or at the Ring – but it wouldn’t have been surprising. However, when their eyes meet, Namjoon’s bloodless face suddenly flushes a bit, and he mouths something that Seokjin can’t catch from so far away.

It might have been sorry, but probably not.

Probably not, but Jin still finds himself saying, “I’ll watch your backs. If someone comes, you’ll know.”

He can only shrug at their surprise. At this point, he’s pretty sure that their funeral is going to be his funeral, too. Might as well do what he can. Besides, if they can hold out long enough… “Maybe the police are on their way.”

That’s more to himself than to Jungkook, but the other male shakes his head anyways. “Or maybe those assholes asked their Meth friends to call in a favour, and there are no cops around at all.”

“…You never learned about the power of positive thinking, did you?”

“Sorry, sir. They only teach that in Meth kindergarten,” Jungkook replies, smiling faintly. After a moment, though, even that falls away, like he’s lost the strength to keep it there. Quietly, so quietly Jin knows he’s not really meant to hear, Jungkook mumbles, “Wish Yoongi were here. Guess it’s good he’s not.”

For whatever reason, that makes the young man straighten a little, his shoulders squaring, and he calls to Namjoon. “I’m ready, hyung. Guess now’s as good a time as any to make up for that car thing.”

The leader, too, has stiffened his resolve. “You’ve got nothing to make up for, Jungkook. Even if you did, that tab’s going to stay open for a bit longer. We’re going to get out of here.” He even manages to make it sound like he believes it.

“Yeah, hyung, sure… I think they’re getting ready to rush us. Guess they figured out we’re not buying.” Jungkook’s voice is as steady as his hands, unshaking as they raise his pistol a little higher.

The both of them, ducked behind their respective vehicles, somehow manage to make it seem like they’re waiting for a boring game of hide-and-seek to end, not staring down a barrel pointed unerringly at their stacks. Seokjin turns back to fulfill his part of this little pageant, squinting down the street and ready to shout, yet his shoulders are trembling and pressing them hard against the dumpster can only do so much to still them. His eyes are welling with tears, too, and angrily Jin brushes them clear. He’s not even that afraid, because he’s pretty much used up his fear and adrenaline for today. But it’s a real pity to die for the second time in a week, beneath this ugly grey sky, along with two strangers who may or may not deserve it for kidnapping him. He wants to be angry at them for dragging him into this, but the blunt knives buried in his chest are made of grief and not rage.

Jin’s just so tired; spitting fury into the void he’s facing is too much effort. I hope Taehyung doesn’t hear about me dying again, he thinks dully. Taehyung is probably the only one in his life who would bother mourning him twice. His family would certainly have done so the first time, sincere in their sorrow, but emotion is just as much a resource as anything. They’d be too practical to grieve a second time, at least with the same depth.

There’s a flicker of movement far, far down the street where Seokjin’s facing. “Someone’s–” He stops, has to cough several times to dislodge the hoarseness in his throat, “Someone’s coming.” Now more than ever, he wishes he had a gun, or a knife, or anything, really. Not that it would make a difference – Seokjin’s not one of the children his parents take to the shooting range, not after the first few mediocre showings – but it would be nice to have something. Just so that he could pretend for a little longer that he has a chance, that maybe he could help the men preparing to die for him have a chance, too.

The figure is moving closer, pretty much in the middle of the street, as bold as you please, and Jin just guesses they’re that confident in their fellow gang members. Personally, he wouldn’t be, not after the show Jungkook had put on, but maybe these thugs just didn’t care if their sleeves got killed. If some Meth were going to give him a new body after he died, maybe he wouldn’t care either. Although…

His eyes narrow. The person approaching from his side is weaving. Not in the better-dart-around-to-make-it-harder-to-shoot-me manner, but in the stumbling-drunk-and-finding-it-hard-to-walk kind of way. He tips first to one side, then to the other, feet dragging and catching on the pavement, and it seems miraculous that he doesn’t drop each time. And actually… hadn’t he come from too many streets down? Wouldn’t the gangsters have cut through a road that was closer, so they didn’t have to be in the open for so long? And why hasn’t Jungkook shot this sucker yet?

At about the same time all of those questions are falling into a startled realization, three more people appear in Jin’s field of vision, closer than the other man. They’re definitely part of the attackers; they’re wearing the same hoodies and face masks, and they’re utterly intent on Jin’s side of the street. He doesn’t even think they see the other guy, and if they do, they ignore him and start inching down the road. Part of him wants to run, maybe down the alley on his left side, even if it just leads to a dead end. That would make it that much easier for their assailants to focus solely on taking out Namjoon and Jungkook, though. The least he can do is offer another target to distract their focus and their bullets.

He might not offer even that for long. One of the three is gesturing excitedly, clearly having realized who he is, and a second later the others raise their guns. Jin can’t help it. He shuts his eyes, throat clogged with the warning he should be giving, and braces himself, an eerie feeling of déjà vu resounding through his very marrow, deep and sickening.

And he waits. And waits. And later – he couldn’t have said how much later – three shots ring out. Just three. None of them sound anywhere close to him.

When Jin opens his eyes, he’s greeted by three bodies on the road and the same man from before walking by them. There’s panicked shouting going on behind his dumpster, further down the street, so much shouting that even though he thinks Namjoon and Jungkook are talking, he can’t tell what they’re saying. A series of sharp reports crack the tension like a bone breaking, and suddenly the air is filled with the staccato noise of gunfire. The man approaching him doesn’t seem bothered. He doesn’t even pause, just keeps walking, and there’s still some of that staggering gait in his movements, like he’s forgotten how to take steps and has to remember each time.

This close, the black police uniform is starkly obvious, and so is the blueish grey revolver the man has clasped loosely at his side. There’s nothing personal about the relief Seokjin feels – nothing like the comfort he’d experienced upon seeing Taehyung – but the searing release of pressure is utterly welcome, all the same. His first thought is perilously close to thanking God, even though he’s never been very interested in his parents’ religion.

His second thought is about how funny Jungkook’s face is going to be when he realizes there was at least one cop around.

The police officer finally makes it to him, although he doesn’t pause for long. He’s a wiry individual with a sweep of black bangs that almost touch his eyes, but it’s his smile that’s most eye catching. His grin is one of the largest and most cheerful things that Jin has ever seen, a sunny beam set with casual brilliance on the man’s heart shaped face, and in another situation, it also would have been one of the most uplifting things he’s ever seen, too.

Given that they are currently being shot at (did Jin see a bullet fling by the cop’s head or was he imagining things?) the grin is kind of scary. So is the look in the guy’s eyes, painfully bright and intent, like an operating table light. It’s a stark contrast to his smile.

“Please stay down,” the officer says, the words leaping extremely quickly from his mouth, and it kind of seems like he’s not really seeing Jin. “This will be over shortly.” Another screech as a bullet grazes the dumpster underlines his assertion.

He moves out of view, and more bangs assault Jin’s ringing ears. This time around, his courage and curiosity both fail him; he stays firmly put, refusing the urge to peek out from his cover. Besides, before much time has passed, he can hear Jungkook swearing, but it’s soft amazement and not anger that’s saturating his voice. The shots dwindle until there’s only one or two going off every few seconds, and moments later even that dies.

“They’re gone, Kwanghyun. You can come out.” That’s Namjoon, but Jin stays where he is, his brows furrowing. Who was Kwanghyun? The police officer?

Namjoon’s shadow falls over him and Jin looks up with a small, relieved smile. The other man’s face is just as drained of colour as before, and there’s a line of tension in his jaw that’s entirely inappropriate given that none of them died. “They’re gone, Kwanghyun,” Namjoon repeats, putting extra emphasis on the name. “Get up.”

Jin stares at him blankly for a moment before his brain catches up. His tentative smile dies. Oh. Right. He can’t be Seokjin in front of an officer. Seokjin was taken from his safe haven at the police station by Namjoon and the rest of his crew.

Embarrassed by how slow he was on the uptake, embarrassed by the tight knot of disappointment in his throat, Jin drops his gaze and starts to rise. Without him being aware of it, his legs have gone numb from his awkward positioning, and it’s a struggle to straighten with his knees threatening to buckle. Suddenly Namjoon hooks a hand under Jin’s elbow and helps him up. His hand remains there, and Seokjin unexpectedly finds himself desperate to believe that the warm support is just out of kindness.

Given the tightness of the hold, however, and the way Namjoon hasn’t put his weapon away, he can’t quite push himself into embracing the achingly appealing fantasy.

They walk out from behind the dumpster, Jin moving like a tottering old man. This sleeve is in shape, but even it can’t quite handle being compressed into a terror-induced crouch for such a long period of time. As the pins and needles jab at his legs, injecting feeling back in the most painful way possible, Jin lets his capturer tow him along. Once again, he’s faced with a question of what to do, and if anything, it’s harder to decide now than it was back at Ringwanderung.

There are bodies scattered across the street, for all the world looking like toys knocked over by some overenthusiastic toddler. None are moving, and the holes ripped into their heads or chests or throats are more than enough evidence for why. He finds himself having to breathe between his teeth and it’s a struggle to tear his gaze away from the bloody scene.

The police officer is speaking into his interface watch as they approach. “Yeah, I count fourteen – fourteen sleeves down. Don’t think any stacks are damaged. Yeah, fourteen. Yeah, I – it’s fourteen, you can all count that high. Make sure – you have to bring Organic Damage with you. I want – what? No, I didn’t get them all myself. Even my sleeve’s not that good.” He laughs, and the sound is… off. Hoarse and too fast. “Anyways, anyways, several ran off, so you need to get patrols down here… I don’t know why there aren’t any around now, it’s a bloody clusterfuck. I want Jaemin prepped to help one of you in interrogation. No, no, I’m not going to do it. I’m not – I’m off the clock, Tanesha, I’m not…”

More is said, but Jin’s having trouble focusing. Namjoon’s grip on his arm is too tight, starting to pass from pain into numbness, as though the sensation just traded its spot from his legs. He’s watching his captors from the corner of his eyes, just about as intensely as they’re watching both him and the cop. It’s dawning on him that this officer saving their lives doesn’t mean the same thing for them as it does for him. Jungkook’s gnawing at his lip, looking less composed now than when there’d been bullets flying, and while Namjoon is more collected, he’s not much more so.

He can’t tell what they’re thinking. Jin doesn’t know if he should care. What would happen if he just blurted out the truth, right here and now? To judge by the gangsters’ reactions and the numerous out of commission sleeves, this man can handle himself. Far better than Taehyung could, anyways. And he’s a police officer! His very life is supposed to be dedicated to protecting people. Wouldn’t he be far better equipped to handle this mess than Jin, too? There’s an overwhelming urge to just dump the situation into his lap, just to see what happens, just to relieve the tension.

Only… He’d saved Jin’s life already, there’s no doubt about that. And while he seems utterly relaxed, his gun slipped into its holster, both Namjoon and Jungkook are so on edge they look like they might just shoot the guy without Jin saying anything at all. What kind of payment would that be, setting them off on his saviour? And just after he’d almost done the same thing to Taehyung?

The officer finishes his conversation rather abruptly; if Seokjin didn’t know better, he might have thought he’d hung up on whoever he was talking to. This close up, he doesn’t look great. His face is shiny with sweat, black hair plastered to his forehead, and the dark circles under his eyes are so prominent his irises look about as black as his hair. The smile from before, unusual as it had been, is gone, replaced by a sharp, triangular frown.

That just makes Jin feel worse about the thought of bringing him into this situation. And as bad as he feels, he still needs to bite his tongue to keep it from going rogue and voicing a desperate attempt at escape. If he was smarter, or maybe just less tired, he might have tried to think of some coded way of asking for help, a secret phrase or a special look, but casting through his head right now is like scavenging through a swamp. There’s plenty of things there, half-formed and half-seen and covered in slick mud, but nothing Seokjin can get a confident grip on.

Besides, Jimin implied that some if not all of the police are in the pay of whatever Meth set his murder up. How can he tell if this man is one of those? Should he just blindly run to a person who could sign his Real Death warrant?

Indecision is a poison, slinking through his veins, paralyzing his muscles and tongue. In the end, Jin elects to do nothing – not because it seems like the best thing to do, but because doing anything else is more nerve-wracking than he presently has the strength to bear.

“Sorry about that,” the officer says, finally turning to them, and once again Jin has the impression that he’s not really looking at them. Or maybe that he’s only seeing exactly what he wants to see. “Ah, first, I need to ask… to…” He stops, confusion passing like a cloud over his expression. “I… can’t remember…” he mutters, and as he says it one of his legs suddenly spasms, a series of twitches and jerks that he doesn’t seem to notice.

Before it fully passes, the cop’s uncertainty evaporates, and his eyes are abruptly keen again, too sharp, almost sterile. “I’m Jung Hoseok, of the Thorton precinct.” Thorton, the official name for the Curve that no one ever uses except on paper. Jin is faintly surprised that this hellhole even has a precinct.

“Officer,” Namjoon replies, and at least he’s working on erasing the hostility from his face; Jungkook’s still got his chin belligerently lifted, and if Jin didn’t know better, he’d say the young man is a bit afraid. Jungkook lets Namjoon take the lead, though. “I’m Kim Doyoon. This is Jung Minjae… and he’s Lee Kwanghyun.” He says the list smoothly, and either he’s really good at making things up on the spot, or he’s got a few names memorized already.

From what he knows about Namjoon’s deliberate personality, probably the latter, but neither is bulletproof. What if the officer asks to scan their IDs?

He doesn’t, which seems very strange to Jin, but then again, this guy’s been acting strangely from the minute he showed up. Instead, the man says, “Right. Can I assume you’ve got registrations for your weapons?” and Jin’s heart stutters a little.

Needlessly so, apparently. Still calm, Namjoon nods, even goes so far as to proffer his gun. After a moment of hesitation, Jungkook follows suit. Hoseok uses his interface to swipe both of them, but the look he casts at the information screen that shows up in response is uninterested, even aimless. He keeps pulling and scratching at his black uniform, rocking on his heels, and every once in awhile the odd tremors repeat themselves in his hands, his legs, his shoulders. Seokjin can’t help but stare. He’s seen plenty of people under the influence of various substances, but he’s never seen anyone – least of all a cop – act like this.

Either oblivious to their looks or choosing to ignore them, Hoseok wanders over to the closest body, one of the first Jungkook took down, and nudges it with a booted foot. “I recognize a few of them,” he declares, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “They’re part of that group that’s been causing so much trouble down here, yeah?” He doesn’t seem to be expecting an answer. “At least that’s a dozen of the – it was a dozen, right? No. More than a dozen off the street. Maybe we can finally focus on some more important issues.”

Like the stolen stack of a Meth? Jin wonders.  

As though one of them said something – although they haven’t, and Jungkook might even have stopped breathing – the officer’s eyes snap towards the trio. “Why’d they come after you? They’re not – seems like too many people.”

Once again, Namjoon’s left to field the question. Not that Seokjin has any choice in the matter. “Dunno. We were at the Ring before, having some fun, and this one,” he jerks his thumb at Jin, “mentioned how we’d won at the games downstairs. Maybe they overheard and wanted to take the creds we won?”

Hoseok’s overly alert gaze focuses on Jin, who’s doing his best to look repentant and not indignant about being given the blame. “Is that why he looks like he’s about to be sick? You guys get into some hard stuff while you were there?” He doesn’t appear to care about the legality of that, one way or another. Minor drug usage is probably pretty low on the list of things this precinct needs to deal with.

“No,” Namjoon replies. “I think that’s the whole being shot at thing.” As it happens, he’s right.

“Oh… right. I forgot most people don’t…” Almost get killed every day, he probably means to say, but trails off. “You handled yourself well,” Hoseok continues into the awkward pause, turning to Jungkook.

Who nods curtly. “Yeah… I practice at a range a lot. Place like this, you need to protect yourself, y’know? I – you were better.” There’s something ridiculous about how jealous Jungkook sounds. “I’ve never seen bullets do that before.”

Do what? Jin wants to ask, but even though Namjoon’s relaxed his hold on Jin’s arm (fractionally), he’s still more than a little worried that they’ll react badly to him trying to talk. Hoseok snorts a laugh, more impatient than amused. “That’s less me than the gun. It’s custom made. Practice enough and the bullets practically bend themselves.”

“Uh huh…” For some reason Jungkook isn’t convinced. He’s eyeing Hoseok like he expects the man to explode or something.

Namjoon gently breaks in. “I’m sorry, officer, but do we need to stay here? None of us are injured, and I think Kwanghyun would feel more comfortable at home.” Jin’s watched enough crime serials to know that the request isn’t going to be granted; that’s just not the procedure for a shootout on some street. He can’t imagine that Namjoon wants to go to the police station or be surrounded by a bunch of cops – hell, at this point even he doesn’t really want to – but it seems unavoidable.

“I should take your statements,” Hoseok says, but then he just stands there, jittery and unfocused. It’s not until Namjoon coughs that the officer starts and refocuses, at least a little. “I’m not – sorry, you’ll need to wait until the on-duty officers arrive.”

And without another word, the man turns away from them, meanders through the sleeves, careless of the way his boots squelch through the blood on the street. He’s checking each stack with his interface watch, maybe looking at identities or making sure they aren’t destroyed. Namjoon and Jungkook exchange looks, and Jin half expects them to decide to either make a break for it or try to take the cop out while he’s distracted.

Eventually Namjoon jerks a shoulder. “We’ve prepared for this,” he says, very low. “We’ll just have to wait. And – here.” He digs in his coat’s pockets and then shoves something at Seokjin, a slender, silver wristband, and it’s so simple that it takes Jin a moment to realize that it’s an interface device. Nothing at all like his own, with its sleek monochrome frame, but with a feeling of relief he puts it on anyways, blinks a few times as it syncs with his internal network. Being without one had almost felt like being naked, and a quick scroll through the limited features confirms that the band has an identity tied to it – real and stolen from someone else, or just made up, he doesn’t know. It can’t make calls or connect to other devices, and when he circumspectly brings up a web page, he finds that he can access all the posts but can’t make any of his own.

He supposes it would have been a little naïve to hope they’d make that kind of mistake.

Namjoon guides Jin and Jungkook to the side while Hoseok makes harried efforts to shoo away the people who are beginning to congregate around the scene, mysteriously interested now that bullets have stopped flying. They’re in a good position to see three black and yellow hovercars (Jin’s once again surprised the district even has any) sinking from the sky, kicking up a cloud of dirt, and police are suddenly descending on the scene like a swarm of locusts.

With quick professionalism they set up a cordon, the laser red lights bright in the gathering darkness, warning away curious onlookers. Immediately after, they begin to tag the bodies and collect spent cartridges, and a few more peel off, presumably to look for the remaining ambushers. Actually, they’re as methodical and skilful as any staff he’s ever seen (not that Jin’s seen many police setups) and he’s just beginning to feel a mixture of unease and admiration for whoever’s leading them when a tall, curly haired officer walks over to Hoseok.

And salutes him.

Jin is gratified to note that he’s not alone in his slack-jawed disbelief; Namjoon makes a little, incredulous sound, eyes widening before they abruptly narrow, and Jungkook actually leans forward like he’s seriously doubting his eyesight. They can’t hear what’s being said, but the two seem to be arguing, with a lot of hand waving by the woman while Hoseok stares anywhere but her and rocks on his heels. She jabs at his arm and he winces and steps back but doesn’t seem like he’s budging more than that. After several moments, the conversation winds down. Hoseok gestures at them, and both cops come over.

“This is Lieutenant Adebayo. She’ll take your statements and be leading this case. If we need anything else, she’ll be in contact with you, too.”

“For now,” the officer says, her eyes flashing a challenge. “I’m sure the captain will step in later once he’s got his wounds fixed up.”

Wounds? Jin scours the man’s body, then finds the spot the officer had poked at, on his upper arm. There is a rip in the fabric of the uniform, though the cloth is so dark it’s hard to tell if there’s any bleeding at the spot. And he certainly hadn’t seemed to act like someone who’d just been shot. Or shot multiple times.

The man looks away from his officer, and her brows furrow in frustration before she switches her attention to them. Adebayo turns out to be just as efficient as the rest of the team. She scans their bands – as suspected, Jin comes up as Kwanghyun – and she takes their accounts of the situation with decisive questions, forcing all of them to answer at random. Jin does his best to go along with the barebones of the story that Namjoon’s already constructed, more wary than ever of saying the wrong thing, and none of them contradict each other. She doesn’t seem inclined to suspicion, anyways; apparently the captain has all but cleared them. Before too long she’s lowering her omni-tool and shutting off the recording.

Hoseok’s wandered off and is lingering by the side, just inside of the red-light tape. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. They dance around his body, tapping at his thighs, sweeping across his chest, or fretting at the air like he’s trying to grab something. One of the other policemen is attending to him, and sure enough, with his jacket removed, his arm is bleeding from two spots, sluggish trickles that he pays no mind to. The medic is struggling to get it wrapped in between his fidgeting.

Jin’s not entirely sure, but it seems like the rest of the collection of officers, some ten of them, are so blatantly not looking at Hoseok that they must be making an effort at it. Just once, Seokjin catches one of them glancing at Hoseok, with an expression so troubled it’s too personal to just be a subordinate worrying about her wounded boss.

Adebayo notices where he’s looking. “You’re lucky Captain Jung came along when he did,” she says stiffly. “I don’t know why these thugs jumped you guys, and I really don’t know why they kept at it when you shot the first few, but you’d be dead if he hadn’t shown up.”

Inclining his head, a bare acknowledgement, Namjoon says, “I think you’re right. Although Captain Hoseok mentioned there weren’t any patrols around this area. Why was he here?” His inquiry is more aggressive than he’s sounded throughout, a stormy tension drawing his forehead tight.

“I don’t know, but that’s not any of your business,” is her flat answer as she pulls back a little.

“Maybe not, but I’m just concerned. Why weren’t there any police patrols around? This isn’t a safe place to begin with. Should we be scared? Are the police giving up on this area? Do I need to tell our neighbours that we’re alone now, that we can only count on ‘off-duty’ cops?” He pauses, studying her with an intensity that has her shifting, and then asks, “Or do the Meths just want the police patrolling somewhere else?”  

At the last question, her chin jerks up, and Adebayo snaps, “The Meths don’t say where we go, and no, we’re not abandoning this neighbourhood. Of course we aren’t!” She stops, takes a deep breath. “Listen, I live around here, too. I want it to be safe. We’re going to be patrolling more in the future. This just happened, coincidentally, at a bad time. And the captain saved your asses and got shot in the process, so you shouldn’t be going around badmouthing us to your neighbours or anyone else!”

Abruptly his penetrating expression falls away, replaced by an embarrassment that seems artificial to Jin, a mask placed over some other, stronger emotion. “I’m sorry. It’s just – it seems to be getting worse around here. I haven’t been – I just wouldn’t want to lose anyone.”

Adebayo softens and relents. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that. Look, there’s not much more you can do here. The captain said you weren’t injured?” Wordlessly Namjoon nods. “We have your info; we’ll give you a call or drop by once we’re done interviewing some of these.” Her careless gesture indicates the sleeves being loaded up into one of the hovercars. “Best you can do is go home and rest. You’re not planning on leaving Triptych anytime soon, are you?”

“No, Lieutenant. Last I checked, you need a helluva lot of creds for a vacation.”

Making a face, she steps away. “Don’t remind me. Just keep it that way, huh? We’ll probably need you to testify at some point.”

“You got it.”

Not needing to be told twice, Namjoon pulls Jin along, Jungkook keeping pace alongside them. Jin glances back, in time to see Lieutenant Adebayo rest a hesitant hand on Hoseok’s shoulder, leaning forward to speak to him. He also watches long enough to see the lanky man gently shrug off that supportive hand and turn his back on his subordinate, on the sprawl of bodies, and, it seems to Jin, on the whole situation altogether.

#namjin #namjin fanfic #namjoon x seokjin #member x member #namjoon #seokjin #jin #my fanfic

[prettyallfriends]

Pretty Rhythm: My☆Deco Rainbow Wedding Chapter 1+2

(The prologue is here, please read that first! This is the first two chapters of the Dear My Future 3DS game. Each chapter is pretty short, so I’ll probably be posting them all in pairs!)

Chapter 1: Welcome to the World of Prism Shows!

Penguin-sensei: Here we are, this is Pretty Top. This is where MARs and Prizzmy☆ were formed. Now, let’s meet President Asechi right away…

??? (Mia): Dokkaaaaaaan!

Penguin-sensei: AAAAHH!

??? (Mia): Hello, Penguin-sensei!

Penguin-sensei: So you’ve appeared! Use a more appropriate greeting…

??? (Mia): So, who are you?? Haven’t seen your face around before…

Penguin-sensei: HEY! Listen when people are talking to you!

??? (Mia): Buuut I’m really interested in this girl for some reason! So, what’s your name? ...huh, huh. So you’re Player!

Penguin-sensei: Hey... you have to introduce yourself before asking for someone else’s name!

??? (Mia): Huh? Why would I do that when there’s nobody on earth who doesn’t know me? Player! You know who I am, right?

Choice: Of course I do / Sorry, who are you?

??? (Mia): Gagaaan! Seriously!? You seriously have no idea who I am!? 

Mia: My name is Mia! Ageha Mia! I’m a member of the group Prizzmy☆, and I’m Pretty Top’s number one! 

Penguin-sensei: What are you going on about? You’re 100 years too early to call yourself number one… No! 10,000,000 years too early! 

Mia: Guh-gaaan!!

Penguin-sensei: Anyways, Player has the aura of an unbeatable star!

Mia: So Player’s aiming to become a prism star too, huh? Ah, so that’s why you came here… Yeah! Now things have gotten interesting! Player! Let’s have a little competition! If you win, you get to join Pretty Top. But if you lose, you • can’t • join!

Penguin-sensei: You insufferable girl! Since when did you get to decide these things!?

Mia: It’s fine, it’s fine! Oh, this’ll piss Pretty Top off, so let’s compete at the Prism Future Arena instead! I’ll be waiting for you there! This has gotten super exciting~ Seeya later! Mia’s number one!!!

(Prism show)

Mia: Ahhh! I lost… The amazing Mia lost…! This is so unfaaair!! Waah!! ...Eh? My show was great too? You’re complimenting me? Well… that’s pretty cool of you!

Penguin-sensei: Mia really is hard to deal with, huh. That aside, you were great, Player! Beating Mia in your very first prism show is amazing. You definitely have some kind of X factor! 

Mia: Huh!? This was your first prism show!? Wow, I’m so happy! I got to watch your very first show! Lucky☆! Congratulations on you prism debut, Player! Welcome to Pretty Top! Now you’re a prism star just like us, huh? From here on out, you’ll be doing lessons with us, and though you may knock heads with some of us sometimes… we’re comrades now! Nice to meet you, Player.

Penguin-sensei: You’ll be very busy from now on! The path of a star is a rough one!

Mia: Let’s both work hard! Now, let’s go… to the world of prism shows!

Chapter 2: Let’s Dance with Prizzmy☆

Penguin-sensei: You were able to get permission to enroll from President Asechi, so from here on you’d better work hard! Well, seeya!

Mia: Yay! I have a lot of stuff to show you! First will be-

??? (Reina): MIIIIIAAAAA!!! 

Mia: Gah! That voice is…

??? (Reina): You’re already late for our lesson!

Mia (crying): Reinaaaa…

??? (Karin): Ahaha, Mia got in trouble again! That galactically gets me going!

??? (Ayami): Reina-san got mad at Mia-san for the first time today… I’ll make a memomemo!

Reina: Stop laughing, Karin! And you don’t have to take a memo of this, Iyami!!!

Mia: These are my teammates from Prizzmy☆. The hot-headed one, Reina…

Reina: Who the hell is hot-headed!?

Mia: Oh, you were listening…

Reina: We’ve a competition coming up soon, so why are you skipping lessons to play around!?

Mia: I’m not playing around! I’m acting as a superior to Player by explaining stuff!

Karin: Superior? Oh? Who are you?

Ayami: Nice to meet you!

Mia: This is Player! They’re our fellow Pretty Top student starting today! Now, give your superiors a nice greeting!

Choice: Please teach me a lot of things!/I’ll aim to be number one!

Ayami: Player-san is really confident, huh… I’ll make a memomemo!

Reina: Then, should we start our lesson? Prism shows aren’t just about jumps. Your dance, coord, and song are also vital. 

Karin: I’m a really strong dancer!

Ayami: And I’m good with coords.

Reina: I like to sing!

Mia: Everyone has their strong points, so you should find your strong point too, Player!

Ayami: If you keep your stage and coord choice in mind, you’ll be able to get a lot of Karats.

Karin: You also have to keep the timing of your heart in mind!

Reina: If you understood our explanations, then why not try a prism show?

Ayami: But… it’s time for our lesson!

(Prism show)

Karin: That was galactically amazing!

Ayami: Your coord and jump were both perfectly chosen!

Reina: You’re a newbie yet you put on such a good prism show! That being said, why did you decide to enter Pretty Top? ...Penguin-sensei asked you to, in order to bring the power of the seven coords together? 

Karin: What’s this Rainbow Charm???

Ayami: I’ve heard of that before! My memo says… that a person who can use My☆Deco should have the Rainbow Charm.

Mia: So, Player’s strong point is the power of My☆Deco, then!

Karin: Being able to make your own coords sounds galactically amazing!

Reina: Hm… The Rainbow Charm really exists. I thought it was just a legend. Huh? You don’t know how to collect the power of the coords? Hm… Sorry, I have no clue.

Karin: But having a legendary charm is so cool!

Reina: If we can do anything to help you, just tell us, okay?

Mia: You don’t have to hold back. We’re friends now!

Ayami: It’d be nice if we complete the Rainbow Charm soon!

Reina: Yeah, it’s be great if we could find someone who knows about the power of the coords.

Karin: It’ll all work out! If Player works hard at becoming a prism star, they’re sure to collect the power of the coords!

Mia: Thaaaat’s right! No point thinking too hard about it!

Ayami: Mia-san, it’d be better if you started thinking a bit harder…

Mia (crying): Ayami, you’re so mean! Reinaaa! Ayami just-!

Reina: Now, let’s get back to the lesson.

Mia: Don’t ignore me!!!

#pretty rhythm #pretty rhythm aurora dream #pretty rhythm dear my future #pretty series #mdrw #prizzmy #prizzmy☆

[alvaar-aldaviir]

Movement: Nocturne 1/2

Time Frame: Shadowbringers MSQ. Spoilers accordingly up to Holminster Switch.

Notes: Grief and angst and a whole lot of comforting the best girl. Platonic SFW cuddling and comfort with an older Alisaie. Second chapter incoming.

Cross-posted to Ao3.

-

On the eve of Holminster Switch, Alvaar just wants to get some sleep on the first proper night he’s had in days. But there’s no rest for the wicked, and it’s more than worth staying up to comfort the person who needs it most.

Handling loss and grief is starting to feel old hat to him anyway.

-

With a fresh breeze from the first night sky over Lakeland in 100 years, Alvaar figured he was long overdue for some sleep. It didn’t make it any easier to find, especially when he knew Alisaie likely still grieved for Tesleen at Holminster’s Switch. In fact, he’d rather hoped to abate some of that unease with one of his old late-night talks with Alphinaud, but the Scholar had dismissed himself shortly after they’d arrived at the Crystarium.

He didn’t like leaving Alisaie behind, but he understood her request to be alone. To grieve in solitude as she had likely done many times before.

So he’d had a nice chat with some hunters in a bar, had a few ales, listened to Ardbert be suitably cryptic while he shrugged out of his gear and cleaned it, and fallen face first into his bed in little more than his boxers.

Perhaps it’s the stress of a foreign world that has him sleeping too hard to rouse at the light rap at his door. The faint creak as the door swings in stirs him just a little, ear twitching but writing it off as unimportant. It’s only when the chill of slim fingers settle to his chest that he blinks awake, tense and still as someone burrows in against his back in silence.

How he didn’t come awake swinging is a whole other mystery... But it’s the cursory glance at well-kept nails that has him speaking with certainty instead of hesitant question. “Alisaie? You’re cold, dear.”

He doesn’t receive a response, though on some level he didn’t expect her to. It’s not the first time she’d handled her grief in the quiet or the silence, but he supposed it’s the first time she’d invited herself into his bed. Briefly he ponders the scandal of it, more from not wanting to upset her brother than anything else, but for everywhere the chill clings to her it’s the hot press of her face against his back that quiets it. That has his hands slipping over hers and vainly trying to warm them up.

“Come on now dear, I’m not going anywhere,” he chides, the words long familiar as he whispers them. Repeated often in the Rising Stones as the months passed, uncertain for the fate of the others. In Ishgard after he’d finally felt the despair from his own intimate loss... “Let me up, I should really grab a shirt and get off this blanket. You’re freezing.”

Instead she shakes her head, fingers clutching a bit tighter against his skin and he blows out a sigh.

This long and still so much pride... they really are too alike.

“You took your boots off at least?” he asks gently, fingers soothing over hers for heat. Again, no response and he gives a theatric huff. “Stubborn.”

It isn’t hard to free himself, pushing himself up to grab the blanket still folded at the end of the bed and glancing into the room. He’s much too used to the shade of the Shroud, and he spots her sword and focus on the table and boots next to a chair in the moonlit dark easily. He’d always been rather at home in the night... It was what made that blanket of stars a relief to see again even after his brief time on the First in the blistering sands and on still watered shores.

Shaking out the blanket, he fusses it up over the both of them.

“You’ve handled your sword and focus?” he asks again, and this time he gets a small nod. “Good. A Warrior should always look after the equipment that looks after them,” he murmurs, tone quiet and soft.

Distraction. Speaking of mundane simple things instead of the more difficult situations that made the mind withdraw. He was familiar with it. He could recall the times Haurchefant had done the same for him, distracting him with easier things until his mind could unwind from whatever dark place it had been. The patient chatter that at least said you weren’t alone.

Slipping an arm under the Red Mage, he pulls her closer to the center of the bed with him before curling up around her protectively. Tucks her under his chin and holds her close, petting soft white strands idly a moment before resting his palm over the chilled length of an ear.

It takes a few moments for her to move. To shift closer and slip an arm around his back and bury her face against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” Alvaar murmurs softly. “Whatever happens, you’ll always have me. That’s a promise.”

It’s quiet between them, silence creeping into the shadows of the room as the Bard waits patiently. Let’s her warm up steadily from the chill.

Even waiting for them, her words catch him by surprise.

“It never gets easier... does it?” Her voice is soft in the quiet, hollow and sad, and even speaking the words she doesn’t move further. Merely waits for his reply and he can feel the expectation of it.

And for a moment, he almost wants to lie. Wants to offer some false hope or comfort. But he knows in these times of hardship and trial, truth is more important between them, no matter how painful it might be.

“No. It never does,” he sighs finally, squeezing her a bit tighter for a moment. “It hurts each time. The guilt tears into you each time. It rips and bleeds and hurts, every time. .... And... I hope it never stops hurting each time either.”

At that he feels her flinch, tilting her head as if to hear him better. He doesn’t need to see her expression to know the puzzlement and loss.

They’re old words. From distant memories. Standing at a different gravestone next to the faceless memory of the woman who had raised him. Rosa’s words. As he’d knelt in the dirt and asked her how to handle the pain. How to handle the loss and the heartache. Why bother loving anything when it hurt so much to have it taken away?

Words that were no less painful to remind himself over the last few years.

“For myself,” he starts quietly, taking in a steadying breath. “I hope it never gets easier. I hope it hurts. I hope it aches. I hope it tears me up inside. I hope each person lost lingers on me like a scar so I never forget it. I hope I never grow numb to what those people meant to me. I hope I never stop reaching out to others anyway, even knowing it might hurt. Even knowing that one day it can all end in tragedy. .... I hope I never stop trying to love and care about people.

“This world can be so cruel, Alisaie. This world will always seem to try and tear you down. And if you close off your heart to protect yourself, then that’s all it will ever seem. If you close off your heart to the pain, then it’s like you’re closing it off to all of that good too. Blocking yourself off from that joy and love in the world, no matter how brief it might be. So... don’t be afraid of that hurt. Don’t be afraid of what makes you human.

“.... I want it to hurt. I want that pain to make me strive harder to protect those beside me now. And I want it to linger and remind me of how beautiful the times I had with those lost were.”

Nuzzling into white hair he held tight for a moment. “It never gets any easier, but we can make it mean something. The ache of loss stays the same but carrying the weight of memory gets easier. Each voice, each scar, layering over into our personal song. ... I don’t ever want to forget a single part of it.”

A soft bitter snort left her, fingers gripping a bit tighter against his skin. “How like a Bard... you almost make it sound like some romantic notion and not an aching reminder of my failures...”

Alvaar falls quiet, unwilling to protest out of reflex and further unwilling to gloss over her own pains when he knows it will do no favors. But there’s a weight in the silence that follows, the faintest shift of her jaw that says she needs him to continue. That she wants to understand this curious belief he’s fostered through years of hardship.

“The very first Bards found their magic because of such things, Alisaie. From having to stoically watch as their comrades fell around them in battle, the first echoes of Bardsong came on the ringing of a bowstring instead of a harp. Hoarse voices rising over the sound of slaughter to give flight to that feeling of helplessness. Burning such awful memories into our hearts, harnessing that emotion to give strength to our comrades, carrying the burden of all that bitter agony with a compassionate heart and holding it as close as we do all the joyous memories we cherish... That is what makes a Bard.”

“And another lecture,” she murmured, tone empty of what was usually a teasing note but Alvaar didn’t take it to heart regardless when he can read it for what it is. “You speak as if you were there. Like you’ve heard it...” she continues softly.

Once more silence ranged between them for a few beats before he offered a simple reply. “Because I have.”

The Red Mage goes very still in his arms for a moment before tilting her head up slightly, “How so?”

Again, there’s a pensive pause. Alvaar was hardly one to speak about himself and his past, even as keen as he was to talk about Bards and their histories. Another deep sigh left him before he began. “The first Bardsong I learned is the Mage’s Ballad. A song given to me by the crystal I carry, ‘The Soul of the Bard.’ But the first song I learned myself was The Warden’s Paean. A song that allows you to aid others in time of need and safeguard them from future danger temporarily. And I learned it by putting the restless souls of the fallen to their eternal rest.

“Their regrets, potent enough to chain a soul to its remains for years after death, have marked upon my heart and soul and found resonance. I have felt that fervent wish, that desperation, that wailing cry of torment... from in life and from the hereafter. I know that song and its rhythm as intimately as my own heartbeat, Alisaie, because I have also lost everything that I held dear to me. Because I have lain mired and heartsick wishing I had done something to stop it. A Bard cannot sing of anything but a heartfelt truth if they wish to use their magic. The words, the notes, those are of no consequence. But it’s the underlying sincerity in that feeling which remains the same and lets us channel Bardsong.”

Alvaar hears the soft huff she gives, knowing he’s gone on long enough. So he heaves a slow sigh, squeezing her again briefly. “I know. It will all sound flat and hollow. It won’t sound like the pain that you feel, and frankly, I wouldn’t insult you by saying I know what you’re feeling... It’s yours Alisaie. It’s a feeling that is yours and yours alone. For now, just grieve, I’ll be here with you for as long as you need. Tonight, and tomorrow, and all the days after if you require.”

There’s the faintest twitch of her fingers against his back, the lightest drag of nails as she balls them into a fist and her arm tightens about him with more strength than he remembers. Again, there’s a grim reminder of the time that has passed. Months in a foreign land, and a wiry solidness to her slightly taller frame that’s new and wholly her own. She’s familiar but changed, forged further in the flames of conflict and heat of desert sands.

The choked sob that leaves her shuddering frame, however, is something he knows from experience.

“I loved her...” The words are strained, warped with tears and grief as she buries herself against his chest and finally cries. The sort of deep and broken sobs that sound a little different from this side of them.

It’s not something that catches him by surprise. At least, not right now. When he’d first heard the few lilting notes of a familiar flute after he’d reunited with Alisaie in Amh Araeng he’d been puzzled but brushed it off as not his to question. The music he occasionally heard that accompanied people, his gift as a Bard and perhaps as one blessed with the Echo, could sometimes give him clues to things. Personalities, quirks, and even what he hazarded as commonalities.

For the longest time he’d heard the same somber but dignified tune between Alisaie and Alphinaud. Something they’d shared with Louisoix. Some weird quirk he’d chalked up to common blood and legacy. The drive and sense of duty to continue what their beloved Grandfather had started. In the years since he had heard the changes and nuance they gained, as each sibling grew with their experiences. Still not far removed from that canticle, but altering and molding through it, separate unique takes to a theme.

And so had this instrument woven its way, subtle and soft, into those somber notes of Alisaie’s song. Something warm, gentle and loving. The quiet solo that had whispered to him as he’d walked with Tesleen to the Inn at Journey’s End in harmony to the hiss of sand underfoot. A song that had reassured him there would be no trap waiting for him, but an important answer he sought.

The difference a few months could make on someone... in a foreign place at the edge of a world on the brink of desolation and destruction. The final resting place for those lost souls forsaken and beyond saving...

He would have fallen in love too. The same way he had fallen so hopelessly in love when his own sad and weary heart had learned such gentle kindness from a loving soul.

“I...” He wants to apologize for the world’s cruelty. To say it will be okay. But he knows himself how little, how hollow their meaning and sound. How cruel they are even as a perceived kindness...

“I’ve got you,” he repeats instead, the words finding their way with her next pained sob. “I’m here. You don’t have to keep it all locked up inside, Alisaie. I’m here for you.”

They’re words that had shattered him like glass years before in the Falling Snows. And though it’s hard to stay still and silent, to listen to the cries and offer what weak scraps of comfort he could, he doesn’t flinch from it. Because loss and heartbreak are an awful and terrible storm, but as weak a comfort as it may seem companionship through it means everything. And though he doesn’t have the gift that Haurchefant had, the ability to say the most comforting things when they needed to be heard, he does his best with what he has. And Alvaar had, for most of his life, used music where words had failed him.

He begins to hum, something quiet, something soft. So unobtrusive she doesn’t really hear it until her tears have finally stopped. When she’s sniffling into the handkerchief he’d offered, summoned from whatever small pocket space he kept his things, and the slow notes filter through.

“Alvaar?” she asks at length, voice harsh from tears but otherwise quiet.

“Hm?”

“Is that,” a pause as her words crack to clear her throat tiredly, “the song you were talking about?”

“For Warden’s Paean? Yea.”

“... I’ve never heard it before.”

“Well... it’s my take on it. Something personal to me. Not all Bards need sing the same song for the effect,” he murmured.

“It’s... gentler than I thought it would be,” she mused softly. “Almost like a lullaby.”

“Different rendition. Don’t get me started, you know I’ll wax poetic all night and bore you to t-... sleep.” He gives a slow faintly pained sigh at the blatant adjustment. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem bothered.

“... Would it... be alright if I didn’t talk about it right now? Later... I think. Just not right now,” she murmurs.

Ruffling her hair gently he hums in agreement. “Whenever you like or even not at all. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Just... know that you can talk to me about it. Any of it. Even if it’s just memories or something unrelated.”

Alisaie nodded slightly, again her fingers shifting against his back and tightening subconsciously a moment before her next question.

“Would it... may I stay? With you I mean... like this...” It’s hesitant, a touch wary. A fear of rejection he’s familiar with. The tension in her shoulders eases as the Bard gives her a reassuring squeeze of the arm around her back.

“If you wish. Just maybe let me get dressed. It’ll be a bit more comfortable for me that way.”

There’s a pause of silence where she shifts back to look at him in confusion before glancing down at where her hand is pressed to his chest. “Oh.” Another beat. “Oh! Yes of course!”

Alvaar at least manages not to laugh at her as she quickly scrambled out from under the blanket and sits up on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched in embarrassed mortification. Instead he hauls himself up, a brief flicker of light and whisper of aether in the dark as he summons in one of his thinner tunics and tugs it on before doing the same with a worn pair of cotton pants. Slipping to the edge of the bed, he pauses to ruffle her hair fondly before rising to his feet. “Need a change of clothes? I don’t recommend sleeping in one’s battle attire, but I won’t judge either. Done it plenty myself.”

She lifts her head at that, staring into the room blankly a moment before sighing faintly. “I likely should. I have something in my kit...” Her words trailed off; expression pensive in the silver edged glow of the moonlight reflecting off the floor. “... I should take a bath too I suppose.”

“If you like. I’ll wait for you. Otherwise I’ve got a wash basin you can use,” he offered, long strides already seeing him across the expansive room. Casting a glance back at her and the listless stare she was giving at nothing, he frowned faintly. “Maybe that. It’s been a long day.” Gripping the water pitcher, he tapped a finger against the ceramic, setting a steady quarter time.

The faint vibration that started to build in the air wasn’t lost on him. In the still and quiet he could feel the faintest pulse of wind currents against his skin as he started to hum softly. A soft but loving piece, the flicker of flames and a grief-stricken firebird in his memories. By the time he’d returned to the bedside with pitcher and basin both, the water he poured into it was steaming in the cool air.

He missed Alisaie’s puzzled expression, but not the inflection of it on her words. “I thought you said you were aether inept?”

“I am. A little less so with your tutelage... but don’t fret a Bard for their tricks. Lavender or rose?”

“What?”

“Which do you prefer? Lavender is better for sleep they say but I like roses myself. Very classic.”

“I... lavender I suppose. ... Wait, you carry around bath oil?” she asked after a moment when he summoned in one of his packs and pulled a bottle from it. Giving a measured splash into the basin before stashing it back and swirling the contents nonchalantly.

“I’m a fop at heart Miss Leveilleur. You don’t think I step off the battlefield looking this sharp because of Hydaelyn’s blessing, do you? Because I assure you... it does nothing. Beauty is pain,” he remarked lightly, waving a fresh washcloth at her before holding it over. “Here. I’ll take your gear to the mender. I noticed a few tears in that jacket of yours. A lady needs her privacy after all, so take your time.”

Taking the offered cloth after a moment she heaved a slow but grateful sigh. “Thank you. I... would it be too troublesome to take my dress too? It would be nice to get it cleaned and repaired.”

That drew the Bard up short a moment before he nodded. “Sure. I’ll keep my back turned. Blankets behind you for modesty,” he replied, quickly doing an about face to stand at attention and huffing when she snorted out a soft laugh.

“Thanks,” she murmured, this one a bit more heartfelt as she pressed the fabric into his hands that were resting behind his back.

“Of course. I’ll be back,” he returned, quickly excusing himself and grabbing her leather jacket and boots up as he left.

Shutting the door behind him he had all of a second to be puzzled by the white glow and luminescent fur of a rather large carbuncle sitting outside his door before he noticed Alphinaud standing farther behind it. A moment of equal surprise passed them both with the distant sounds of revelry still echoing through the Pendants. The Scholar stared at him silently in confusion before his gaze flicked down to the clothes in Alvaar’s arms.

When the deep blue of his gaze locked back on the Bards face, a flicker of something protective and angry that he hazarded was rapidly approaching murderous, it resonated in an actual bolt of fear piercing the Warrior of Lights heart. He’d fought on three war fronts in the last few years with a staunch and unwavering conviction.

And in the face of one Alphinaud Leveilleur, who was already settling a hand on the tome at his hip, he immediately put his hands up in surrender. “I can explain.”

“Start.”

#wol #warrior of light #named warrior of light #alvaar aldaviir #alisaie #alisaie leveilleur #dealing with grief #hurt and comfort #oc #writing #mywriting #blatant abuse of bard lore #tesleen #i just kinda like the idea of that ship too #sfw #The First just kinda sucks y'all

[artistic-writer]

Love Finds a Way : CS Jurassic World AU : Ch 7

Title: Love Finds a Way by @artistic-writer

Summary: Emma Swan is the Head of Operations for David Nolan’s exotic adventure park, Jurassic World.  She has a son, Henry, and is loved and respected by her colleagues. Her life was perfect until a new dinosaur the park created, Indominus Rex, decided to escape.  Oh, and her one night stand, Killian Jones - he’s there to help contain the asset. Just to complicate things even more.  Jurassic World AU.

Rating: M (for people getting eaten)

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Alright, Ch 7 and we are right in with the action from Ch 6, so you might want to give that a quick read first.  Been a time, and I am sorry.  I’ve managed to get a few more than 1 WIP posting, because i suck, but i’m not neglecting any of them, i promise.  This chapter has some mutual pining, which I...I kinda liked writing. Shut up, @darkcolinodonorgasm​ and is dedicated to the lovely @kmomof4​ who needs a little love right now.  And thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke​ for your eyes <3

Taglist: @hollyethecurious​ @kmomof4​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @cocohook38​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @wordsmith-storyweaver​@winterbaby89​ @kymbersmith-90​  @killianmesmalls​ @killian-whump​ @nonnyj @jennjenn615​   @thislassishooked @searchingwardrobes​ @doodlelolly0910​ @cs-forlife​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @mariakov81​ @xemmaloveskillianx​

Please show your appreciation for my writing and artwork by buying me a Ko-fi.  If you are unable to do that, then please enjoy it and show your appreciation with a reblog. Or leave me a comment, i’m a sucker for that.  Any feedback welcome :D

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The Indominus raced through the forest, crashing through the ancient trees like they were toothpicks. Each one snapped under her weight, bending unnaturally this way and that, trees almost as old as the island ripped from existence in the blink of an eye. She roared, the sound one of anger as she tilted her head back and peered up into the sky, clawed hands clenching in front of her with glee at the sight of a helicopter hot on her tail.

“Target at ten o’clock!”

The sound whirr of the mini gun was lost over the sound on the chopper, blades slicing through the air with a melodic thumping sound. The operator slid in his seat, closer to the edge of the helicopter and grabbed hold on the two handles that operated the mini gun. It was heavy and when he pulled on the two handles on either side of the mount, the gun was lifted into place against the drag of the wind, ready to aim at the target currently charging through the forest below.

The Indominus let out another ear piercing screech, the muscles in her throat vibrating as she roared. The earth beneath her feet sunk away in the slightly damp forest floor that had been hidden from the soil scorching sun for decades. Ferns and other shade dwelling flora was no match for her weight, flattened in a second and torn apart by her clawed feet as she pushed off the ground and propelled herself forward with her huge, muscular legs in an effort to evade her pursuers.

The first bullet out of the gun followed the high pitched mechanism as the drum full of bullets began to rotate and each of the barrels began expelling its ammunition. The whole gun shook, vibrating through the man holding on for dear life, the swivel mount absorbing the rest in an effort to keep the helicopter steady. Bullets rained down on the forest, narrowingly missing the dinosaur they were chasing, the ground behind the escaping Indominus thrown up into the air with each impact.

“Hit the damn thing!” The pilot called out over the onboard intercom, fingers white from how hard he was gripping the flight stick.

The gunman pulled back as hard as he could, thumbs pressed into the triggers, bullets flying around wildly as he repositioned the gun a little higher. The tip of the barrels exploded with flashes of orange with every combustion behind the projectiles within, the drop from each bullet just missing the huge beast they were meant to kill. He ground his jaw in frustration, growling over the mic intercom in rage at how the bullets kept missing her, narrowly skimming the hocks of the huge, bipedal dinosaur.

“She’s too fast!” He cried out in frustration, the sound of the chopper blades punching through the air above his head barely audible back in the communications room. “Get in front of her!”

“No, no, no, no, no!” Ruby chanted, her head bouncing between the red dot on one screen and the camera feed of one of the crew on another.

“What?” David rushed forward toward the screen. “What is it?”

Mary Margaret sucked in a breath at the screen and David followed her line of sight. “She’s going for the helicopter.” The camera was grainy but it was clear enough to see the Indominus grind to a stop and crane her neck to look at the helicopter chasing her. She was watching it double back on itself, inevitably lowering its altitude as it did, the pilot unaware, but the camera on the gunman’s helmet catching the predatory look in the dinosaur’s eye.

“She can’t reach it, can she?” David asked quickly, tearing his eyes from the camera long enough to see the shock in Mary Margaret’s eyes.

“You should know,” Walsh’s voice echoed from the shadows. “You gave that whole dinosaur the green light. Didn’t you double check what the quack was putting into his test tubes?”

David ground his teeth and his fingers dug into the back of Mary Margaret’s chair. “I thought you’d left,” David spat, not taking his eyes off the scene playing out in front of him.

“And miss this?” Walsh sneered, peering over his shoulder. “It’s just getting good.”

“Ruby, warn them!” David instructed hastily, nudging his head towards the giant screen above them.

David had barely finished his command and Ruby was dragging her headset up from around her neck, repositioning it over her ear. She pulled herself forward, the wheels of her chair just narrowly missing Walsh’s feet, before almost screaming into the mic.

“ACU team 2, this is central control! You need to alter your altitude!” Ruby’s heart pounded in her chest, her eyes flicking to the screen where the Indominus even looked like she was contemplating the exact angle of attack.

“Control, this is ACU airborne, can you repeat? Over.”

“Oh, God,” Mary Margaret gasped. “They didn’t hear you.”

“Uh oh,” Walsh taunted with a whistle.

“Dammit,” David grunted, the hairs on his arms standing on end. He grabbed Mary Margaret’s headset off of her desk, gripping the mic stem between his shaking fingers and lifted it to his mouth. She didn’t even realise it but Mary Margaret had grabbed his arm, hooking her fingers into the crook on his elbow and was holding him so tightly to stop the shake in her own hands. “ACU Airborne, pull up! Pull up!”

David’s warning came too late, the echoing roar of the Indominus growing louder before it was followed by the crunching on metal and the backwards whirr of rotor blades under stress where the huge dinosaur had leapt into the air and bit clean through the tail section of the helicopter. The control room filled with the sound of screaming, the high pitched yelling and panic that flowed from the surround sound speakers indistinguishable from man or woman as many of them turning into pained gurgling. There was a scrambling, the mics muffled by each team member as they clambered for brace positions under their leaders instructions, those that hadn’t been crushed in the initial attack audibly puking in the wake of their comrades in pieces.

Mary Margaret gulped down a lump in her throat, her eyes paralyzed and unable to blink away the imagined demise of each team member as their vitals flatlined on the screen in front of her. Her fingers were digging into David’s arm so hard he was sure she would leave a mark, but he let her, almost one hundred percent sure he hadn’t heard her breathe for a few minutes. After what seemed like an age, he slipped out of her grip and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to him and cupping his hand over her ear, trying his hardest to shield her from the horrific sounds.

“Mayday! Mayday!”

“We’re going down!”

“Help us! Lord, help us!”

The sound of yelling and the crunching of metal was drowned out by another screech from the dinosaur, the last images from the Captain’s body cam turning black inside of the Indominus' mouth when she clamped her jaws shut around the man. Tiny pinpricks of light danced across the image on the control room wall, spinning like bubbles in a washing machine as she chomped a few times, crushing the life out of the man who had once been sitting in the cockpit she had just ripped off mid flight.

A silence fell over the control room, static the only sound that everyone could hear coming from the two way communication. David relinquished his hold on Mary Magaret for a split second to turn off the radio comms with the now downed helicopter, a soft sniffle drawing his attention. Ruby had been crying and in the panic, as he looked around in the aftermath, it wasn’t just her. There wasn’t a dry eye in the entire room, employees consoling each other as if a hug would make everything that had just seen go away.

“Mr Nolan,” Ruby croaked with a watery voice.

“I know,” David assured her, stopping her from saying the words that she had to officially say. The rules be damned. David knew everyone was dead and he wasn’t about to make her say it.

“Well, looks like this thing really is unstoppable.” Walsh’s words were not even the least bit perturbed by the sounds he had heard or the images he had seen. The man had the gall to cross his arms over his chest and smile with glee, but that was soon laid to waste when, out of nowhere, David’s fist connected with his jaw, and the weasel of a man stumbled backwards.

“David!” Mary Magaret screeched, jumping to her feet so fast her chair toppled over when Nolan went in for a second strike, his clenched fist breaking Walsh’s nose with an audible crack.

“Son of a-,” Walsh cried, clutching his nose that was busy pouring with deep crimson blood.

“Those were good people!” David roared, looming over his hunched figure, Mary Margaret attempting to halt a third attack by hanging off his arm.

“We’re all good people!” Walsh shouted back, righting himself and squaring up to David and spitting blood onto the fabric of his shirt. “We all do things with the best of intentions, don’t we?” He cocked his head to the side, a blood stained grin accompanying his implication.

“This isn’t your fault,” Ruby offered to David with a snarl in Walsh’s direction.

“This isn’t your fault! This isn’t your fault!” Walsh parroted with a cocky grin. “God, aren’t you sick of your cheerleaders yet, Prince Charming?”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” David told the miserable man. “And I already told you once. The only way you’re going to set live raptors loose on this island is over my dead body.” David clenched his jaw at Walsh’s cocky smirk, his hand balling painfully at his side where he was sure he had split at least one knuckles because of the sting there.

“That won’t be entirely necessary,” Walsh announced, straightening up and running his tongue over the ridges of his blood soaked teeth. “You see,” he announced, sucking in a breath and closing the gap between him and David even more until their chests touched. “They say there is strength in numbers, which is good for you, because these two ragtag little groupies you’ve got going on here-,”

“Hey!” Ruby protested, matching Mary Margaret’s scowl.

“Oh, no offence,” Walsh nodded over David’s shoulder to the security guard stationed at the door, their matching sand coloured uniforms signaling their connection as he reached for the cuffs on his belt. “It’s real cute,” he said with a pout of his bottom lip. “But you know loyalty doesn’t cost a thing.”

“What the...What are you doing?” David demanded of the guard when his arm was wrenched awkwardly behind his back.

“At least not for me,” Walsh said out loud absentmindedly. “These guys are on your payroll.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Mary Margaret growled with a pink tinge to her cheeks from anger.

“Oh, honey, sit down before you break a nail,” Walsh spat, pushing past her and sending her crashing down into her seat.

The chair rolled backwards a little under her weight and the shy slip of a woman shrunk away from her previous bravado. David struggled against the guard’s hold, only caring that the brute of a man had decided it would be a good idea to touch a woman that he cared so much about. Despite his imposing height, the security guard was much bigger than David, and his opposition to his incapacity was futile.

“You’re going to regret that,” David spat through clenched teeth, shaking his shoulders in one more protest as he was hauled into the elevator.

Walsh sniggered arrogantly, making everyone in the comms room jump when he clapped his hands together as soon as the elevator doors slid closed with a ding. “Now that unfortunate matter has been seen to, and it gives me no pleasure to announce this, but the incapacitation of our fearless leader leaves me in charge as the highest ranking In-Gen official.”

Ruby made a sound in the back of her throat that sounded like she had thrown up in her own mouth and tried to swallow it.

“And our primary objective is to prevent further loss of life.” As if on cue, the elevator doors sounded its arrival again and the doors parted to reveal at least seven new men, all armed to the teeth with equipment and all sporting the ever fetching In-Gen sand coloured shirts. When they started pushing their way into the comms room and began setting up with bulky equipment without permission, it made Ruby’s emotions turn back into anger.

“Who are these guys?” she said with a sneer.

“I’m glad you asked,” Walsh replied without missing a beat. “You are all relieved of your duties,” he announced gleefully. “There’s a new team on the ground.”

“This is insane!” Ruby argued as a man she had never seen before plopped himself into her chair and tested the swivel action as if she wasn’t there. “You can’t do this!”

“So, without further ado,” he continued, ignoring her remark of disgust. “Let’s stop wasting money and kill this thing.”

--

Henry wasn’t sure if the sweat on his brow was from the exhilaration of driving on his own for so long, or from the humidity on the island. He had been driving for a while now but somewhere along his journey, and Henry was sure at which point, he had broken his watch. The face was permanently stuck on the time it had stopped, right about when Graham had thrown him off a cliff and into a river in order to save his life. He should have taken it off but it was a gift and even at his age, Henry was sentimental.

The Jeep was a bumpy ride, the old suspension as worn as it could have possibly been for a car that had been sitting, untouched in storage for over a decade. The ground underneath the almost still new tyres was even more uneven, damp and crumbly, making the wheels spin in the darkness of the forest, and as hard as rock in the open areas. The last time Henry has exited the woodland trail he has almost been bounced clean over the cracked windshield with the change in density of the track, only staying in situ because of his tight grip on the wheel.

Out in the daylight wasn’t a picnic either. Even without his watch, Henry could tell what time of day it was because of the blistering heat above him. The Jeep had no cover anymore, half of the leather having degraded overtime and the other half flying away in strips as he has floored it through the areas he knew were occupied by the more predatory dinosaurs. The sun had only got hotter, his clothes almost totally dry except from where he had perspired under his arms and down his back, so Henry knew it wouldn’t be long before the evening started to draw in.

The paddocks of Isla Nublar were not somewhere you wanted to be after dark.

The ground under the wheels suddenly turned to a more gravel like consistency and the Jeep rocked a little until it settled onto the new road. Henry slipped sideways in his seat and nearly toppled out, but he managed to grab on just in time to see the closed gate up ahead. Two huge rusted iron gates were blocking the path, years of erosion as well as bark like twines entangled in the brittle chains holding them together.

Barely visible through the leafless bindings was a danger sign for high voltage along the fence that Henry knew no longer existed, so, with a deep breath, he slammed his foot on the accelerator until it hit the floor. The engine roared in protest but the whole vehicle lurched forward, climbing the slight incline towards the huge, steel gates. Henry gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, and pinching his eyes closed as tightly as he could, prepared for impact.

The Jeep hit the steel gates but it barely slowed, the weather worn chain giving out almost instantly and freeing the gates from its hold. Henry heard them fly open and when the Jeep continued its forward momentum, Henry peeled one eye open to see the damage. There was none to him, and none to the vehicle, just a powdery cloud of dust in his wake from where the dead foliage had been busted apart. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Henry smiled, letting out his breath and releasing the gas a little.

“Woo!” He declared, drumming his hands on the steering wheel in celebration.

He was running on adrenaline and not much else, every snapping twig or rustle of leaves setting him on high alert. He strained to listed over the sound of the engine, eyes wide and pupils dilated as he continued to drive through what seemed like a never ending paddock. Anything could be there and, in all honesty, Henry wasn’t all that excited to find out what. He pressed his foot a little harder on the gas when the Jeep met a steep incline and as it crested the hill, Henry was relieved to see the familiar compound up ahead where he knew Killian and Liam trained the raptors.

“Open the gate!” Henry shouted but his voice was lost behind the sound of the car horn as he slammed his palm into the middle of the wheel. “Open the gate!” He called out again, relieved but still scared half to death. He would feel much safer on the other side of the huge concrete wall, that was for sure. “Come on, open the gate!”

Two security staff stationed on top of the wall over the gate entrance squinted to see the vehicle as it approached. One cocked his head to the side, clearly confused, and the other simply let his jaw drop open in shock. The whole island was on lock down and no one was supposed to be anywhere except in the main compound or at their assigned posts, so they shared a quick, confused glance.

“That’s a first,” one muttered.

“Mmm,” the other hummed in agreement.

“Do you think we should-,” the first offered but was quickly interrupted by the sound of footprints pounding along the metal high rise boardwalk behind them.

“Open the gate!” Liam yelled, his words bouncing on every step he took. The two guards shared another look, gripping their guns a little tighter. “Open the gate,” Liam repeated gruffly as he reached them. “That’s Henry,” he breathed, a wave of relief washing over him at the sight of the boy. “Call Emma,” he ordered. “Tell her we’ve found him.”

--

Killian had been almost unable to move Emma from the spot when she had witnessed the ACU helicopter going down and once he had moved her to the safety of the forest, in the opposite direction to the Rex, she suddenly wasn’t much for words. He knew she felt guilty, but no matter what he had said to her in the heat of the comms room argument, he knew she wasn’t to blame for any of this. In fact, Emma couldn’t have been furthest from the blame. She was just the face of the island, there to make sure tourists were happy, and like most others, including himself, she had no idea as to what was being cooked up in paddock 11.

Emma felt like the worst person in the entire world. She was trying to simultaneously run the park and raise her son, but somewhere along the way, she had lost sight of what mattered the most. Henry meant more to her than anything, she just hadn’t shown it much. She was ambitious, and it had been kind to her, but at what cost? Now where was she? Ankle deep in the middle of a forest, hiding her tears in the humidity that was slowly washing the dirt from her face.

A hand on her shoulder shook her from her guilty daydream, and she quickly wiped at her cheeks, flicking the moisture away from her face. Killian’s hand was warm, much warmer feeling because of the sheerness of her blouse, and she couldn’t help but shiver a little. She had been fighting her feelings for him, she knew that, and whether he meant to or not, he had managed to wriggle his way back into her heart.

“He’s going to be alright,” Killian told her as he gave her shoulder a squeeze. He swung one leg over the fallen tree Emma was perched on and let the rifle he was carrying slip from his shoulder. He rested it against the gnarled bark, ignoring the way the moss that was growing on top of it was dampening his pants, and sat back with hunched shoulders and a sigh.

“I know,” Emma sniffed, wiping her blouse sleeve over her cheeks.

“Hey, look at that,” Killian smiled warmly. “You believed me for once.”

Emma coughed out a short laugh and playfully swatted his chest, and action that made Killian lean even closer to her in an attempt to extend their contact. Emma let her hand linger on his chest, right where his shirt was partly open, and Killian felt his nipples harden when she brushed over a few of the glossy black chest hairs that peeked out from the shirt there. In a split second decision that would either go in his favour or get him slapped, Killian covered her hand with his, flattening her palm over his heart that had begun a beat of rapid fire in his chest.

Killian stared at her until, slowly, Emma looked up from watching his hand on hers. The tips of his ears flushed hot with adrenaline and he felt his lungs draw in a much deeper breath than before, the slight curl of Emma’s fingertips against his chest making him gasp inaudibly. She would have felt it, no doubt about it, and he pressed her hand harder to his shirt in an attempt to feel her through closer to his skin. Emma’s eyes finally met his, her lips dry from being slightly parted, and her throat dry where she had forgotten to swallow.

“Killian,-” she began, but unlike other times she had said his name, this was different.

“I just need to know one thing,” Killian said hoarsely, his own throat suddenly parched. Like a nervous schoolboy he dipped his head and let his other hand reach around Emma’s back where it began to smooth down the fabric of her blouse, his lips turning up into a cheeky grin. “How have you been able to run in those heels?”

Emma chuckled, the vibrations from her laugh shooting up Killian’s arm and embedding the sensation in his soul. Her hand slipped from his chest and he let he take it, the feel of her fingertips already like a brand on his skin from the one night they had spent together. Killian felt her whole body relax, which was his exact intention when he has so brazenly placed his hand on her back, and it hadn’t escaped his notice that this time, she hadn’t pulled away.

“I have just evolved beyond the need for stability that flat footwear gives you,” Emma smiled. “I’d recommend heels, but,” she leaned forward and pretended to squint at the bottom half of Killian’s legs whilst sucking in a long breath through her teeth. “I just don’t think you have the calves for it.”

Killian had no witty retort, just a single, deep, reverberating laugh that escaped his open mouth as he regarded her with humour in his eyes. His tongue traced the ridges of the teeth at the side of his mouth, and he tilted his head back a little at her comment, enjoying the way she was smiling back at him for the first time all day. His eyes flicked between hers and her lips, dry skin there begging to be kissed like he was the only hydration on offer for miles. Emma was the same, his oasis in a sandstorm, her lips coaxing him closer when she bit her bottom lip playfully, but with all of the will he had left, Killian refrained from following the urges of his own body and pulled his hand from where it lay on her back too.

Emma missed the contact, even if she was reluctant to admit it, and when Killian rubbed at his jean clad thighs and cleared his throat in an attempt to regain some composure, her eyes fell to his hands and his scars there. She had seen them before, the skin ridged and twisted from primitive stitching that she had no doubt he had probably tried to do himself because of his stubbornness. As she recalled, it had no impact on the way he used his hand, but she knew that he must be embarrassed by them because of the way he had always tried to hide them around her. As if on cue, Killian finished his eager rubbing of his thighs and tried to rearrange himself so that the offending hand could be tucked into his pockets.

“Wait,” Emma said suddenly, softly, her thoughts jumping to words and leaving her mouth without coherence when she reached for his hand in an attempt to halt his hiding. “I mean,-”

“It’s alright, love,” Killian smiled, offering her his scarred hand once more when she withdrew hers. “You’re inquisitive, and that’s alright.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just,” Emma began, unable to find the words she wanted. To hide her awkwardness she tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear and swallowed hard, cursing the humidity that had accented the red tint to her cheeks. “Which raptor did it?” She said finally, enclosing Killian’s had between both of hers and trailing her fingertips over the scars.

“What makes you think it was one of the raptors?” Killian asked her with an arched eyebrow.

“You leave your trailer for work and dating, and I haven’t heard about much of the latter lately,” she quipped.

“Ah, well, yes,” Killian agreed in his very British accent, his other hand reaching up to scratch behind his ear. “There was one that got away.” His scarred hand twisted and his fingers entwined themselves with hers, a wave of panic flooding over him when he thought she might pull away. She didn’t but was silent, unable to express herself over the huge chasm in her heart that someone had once made, one that stopped her communicating her feelings anymore. “It was Delta,” Killian said low, offering her a conversational relief. “I was stupid and, like and idiot, took my eye off the ball for a second.”

“How old was she?” Emma asked, seemingly more comfortable with the new conversation.

“Only a few weeks old,” Killian uttered, remembering the moment vividly. He had thought it a good idea to offer Delta a dead rat from the same hand he had just used to feed one of the other raptors, getting complacent and neglecting to wash his hands between feedings. The young raptors had been fed separately at first, to allow Killian to assess the best way they would integrate into a pack, but caught up in the excitement of his new job, he had forgotten protocol and gave Delta a rat from a hand that smelled of the very food he was offering. “It wasn’t her fault,” he assured her. “But it reminded me of what kind of animals we are dealing with on this island.”

Emma moved her hand towards her lap and pulled Killian’s with it. He let her, the sting of nervous sweat glands under his armpits unnoticed in the still wet patches of damp from the island’s heat. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” Emma told him whilst tracing the lines of scars on his palm. “If I had, maybe this dinosaur would be dead by now.”

Killian shook his head. “It is I who should apologise, love. I should never have yelled at you.”

“Damn right!” Emma teased, gripping his hand harder.

“You do realise you’ve agreed with me twice in the same conversation now?” Killian retorted with a smirk.

Emma just nodded, that stray strand of hair falling forward with the motion of her head once again. Killian moved his hand quicker than she could, smoothing his weathered fingers over the curve of her ears as he tucked it back into place, his thumb completing his move as it stroke her ear lobe. Again, Emma didn’t recoil at his touch and he felt the muscles of her throat swallow when he plucked a piece of tree bark from the rest of the hair behind her ear. The smile of her face was infectious and Killian mirrored it, but before either of them had a chance to say anything else, Emma’s phone rang and they startled apart.

She scrambled for the device she had tucked into her bra and Killian averted his eyes as she did so, only looking back when he heard her answer.

“Liam? What is it? What’s going on?” Emma said hurriedly, pushing herself to her feet and stalking away from the log they were sitting on.

Killian couldn’t hear what Liam was saying, but when she turned to face him, Emma’s face paled and he almost had to rush to support her when she threatened to topple in front of him. Her eyes welled up, pupils dilated so much that there was almost none of the honey green glaze left for him to see. He watched her chest heave before she thanked her friend and hung up, sniffing and wiping her eyes again just as he reached her, unable to bring himself to ask for the news he didn’t really want to hear.

“Is it Henry?” Killian pried delicately, gently holding her elbow.

All Emma could do was cover her mouth and nod, eyes pinching closed as more tears fell. Without a second thought, Killian pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly like he wished he had done that night. Words unspoken told him said she was thankful and that she needed his embrace more than she was letting on, so he just stood there in the soaking humidity of the island and held her. Emma’s hands found his biceps and she seemed to hold on there, her face buried into his chest and every breath inhaling him as she sobbed.

“He’s alive,” Emma sighed, her words muffled by Killian’s shirt.

“I told you,” Killian smiled, pressing his lips to the side of her temple and squeezing her a little tighter with his own relief. “I knew it, the lad is smart, resourceful,-” Killian began as she pulled away but Emma had other ideas when she wrapped her arms around his neck, stretched up on her toes and cut him off with a kiss.

There was no way that Killian could stop his reaction this time, not even if he had wanted to. Emma’s initiation gave him the green light, a wordless agreement from her that finally, after all this time and all of his patience, she was ready to validate his feelings. He cupped her face in his hands, her bottom lip still quivering from her emotional news, something Killian hoped he could soothe as he tilted his head and their lips slanted against each other in a whole new direction and made her moan.

Killian couldn’t stop the growl that escaped his throat when he pushed against her mouth and she pushed back, her fingers digging into the hair at the base of his neck despite its wetness and clutching hard, making him suddenly realise where they were. He had to push his feelings aside, despite his body’s reactions to the way Emma had flattened herself to him, every curve of her deliciously distracting as she writhed against him.

“Emma,” Killian mumbled against her mouth when she pulled his face back to hers when as tried to pull away. “Emma, love…”

“I’m sorry,” Emma breathed, gasping for breath. “I...I’m,-”

“I know.” Killian smiled warmly, thumbing the corner of her mouth. “Let’s get you reunited with your lad, alright?”

“You’re right,” Emma nodded, pulling herself from his arms and licking her lips. “Come on,” she told him with a pat to his chest as she breezed past him on her way back to the car they had left through the trees. “We can wait.”

Distracted by retrieving his gun, Killian hadn’t registered what she meant at first, but as soon as he did, he stood bolt upright only to watch her disappear through the broadleaved foliage. “Wait, what?”

#cs ff #cs au #cs jw au #jw au #lfaw #love finds a way #Jurassic world au #ch 7 #captain swan #mutual pining #kinda