#catch them going to the citadel simply to people watch

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓃮 Even the Sun Influences the Tide: Chapter Five

Even the Sun Influences the Tide: After the death of your foster brother, King T’Challa, you had spent much of your year of mourning in isolation. When your mother gathers you and your sister to end your mourning period, you encounter the newest threat to Wakanda: Namor. You don’t know what to think of Namor, but you do know one thing: he probably shouldn’t be making trips to see you at your beach hut.

Warnings: Angst.

To Note: Namor/K’uk’ulkan x Fem!Reader, I Tried To Make The Yucatec Maya & Xhosa Translations/Traditions As Accurate As I Can Get.

Word Count: ~2.2k

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You were minding your own damn business (as usual) eating breakfast and enjoying watching the antelopes drinking from the river when you had been ambushed. Well, not so much to say ambushed ambushed, but you had no warning at all that Okoye planned on dropping by. She never visited simply to say hello, ever. So you were eyeing her over your bowl of maize meal, slowly eating while scrutinizing her and wondering why the hell she was on your beach.

“You are staring.” Okoye commented while peacefully staring out over the water, her spear firmly planted in the sand next to her. You snorted and looked down into your bowl, scraping the bottom with your spoon and collecting another mouthful.

“What has mother sent you for this time?” You asked between bites, your breakfast now going stale in your stomach like you had swallowed lead weights. Okoye looked to you.

“Your mother has nothing to do with me visiting, princess.” You snorted and rolled your eyes.

“Sure, you just came to catch up, right? Because the general of Wakanda has time to do so.” You spouted out, much to Okoye’s enjoyment (not), and the tall woman rolled her eyes at you. It seemed that the bush had yet to beat the sarcasm out of you… impressive. Then again, you were quite the resilient little creature, adapting to Wakandan life easily and seamlessly when you were younger.

“I have come to ensure that your way with the blade has not slipped since your decision to leave the citadel.” You blinked at her and then let out, perhaps, a more than necessary, haggard sigh.

“Do you really think that I came all the way out here with the intention of swinging a blade around?” Okoye raised an eyebrow at your worlds. “I don’t have a need to maintain a strict schedule of training, Okoye. Who exactly am I going to fight around here? An alligator?” For emphasis, you waved your hand at the very empty beach, and the even emptier bush.

“There are enemies everywhere, Y/N, willing and waiting to strike you down to make a blow at Wakanda.” She reminded you sternly. “You are the eldest now, our people will be looking up to you for guidance and leadership.”

“What leadership? What guidance?” You questioned. “Okoye, I’m a princess in name only, I will never be the queen of Wakanda so why bother looking up to me? Out of everyone important in Wakanda I’m the bottom rung. I literally have nothing to contribute to the country.” You received a withering look of disapproval.

“You clearly do not see how many of our people look up to you in times of need,” Okoye stated. “Do you know how many of our people turned to you after our king died? They needed you for comfort, and you were there for them, until you left.” You couldn’t deny that her words stung. You had abandoned the people, but you had felt that you had been at risk for entirely loosing it… your decision to leave the city was not made with a light heart.

“It wasn’t a whimsical decision, Okoye,” Your murmured while guilt seeped into your veins. “I made my decision with the people in mind because I feared what would happen if I had just carried on. I might have destroyed everything around me.”

“Hiding and avoiding your problems is not helping you either. To your feet, princess.” Okoye was on her feet and grasping her spear, dislodging it from the sand and brandishing it at you. You sighed.

“Okoye…”

“To your feet!” She commanded, swinging the deadly weapon at your body. Yelping, you rolled away and drew your vibranium knife from your leg, blocking the incoming spear just in time. With the force at which she had swung at you, you slid back in the sand. A grunt passed through your lips and you scowled at the warrior.

“Okoye,��� You repeated in warning, not wanting to humor the general. “This really isn’t—“

“Our enemies have already snuck into one of our outreach buildings princess!” Okoye called, her spear whirling through the air once more before diving back towards your body. This time you ended up falling back onto your ass, your knife just barely deflecting the spear so it rested against the side of your neck. “You need to always be prepared, maintain your training!”

Her gaze was hard, but well placed. You couldn’t fault her for being hard on you because she did it out a place of love.

“Okoye I’m not—“

“We will not lose anymore of your family!” She spoke out as if willing it into reality. You’re kicked at the spear, your shin taking the brunt of your kick as you knocked it away from your body and rolled back to your feet. You made it into a half crouch just in time to deflect another attack. Stumbling a step back, you steadied yourself by firmly planting a foot into the sand and pushing back.

You knocked the spear away from its target with momentum once more and swiped for Okoye’s wrist, hoping to disrupt her grip on the spear. It didn’t work, no one could best a Dora Milaje warrior, certainly not its general. Your counter was easily batted away and Okoye swung at your upper body this time. Careening backwards, you saw the spear flash over the space your upper body had only moments before occupied. That was close. Okoye continued to swing at you, alternating her attacks and forcing you into an awkward retreat as you dodged and slipped your way across the sand.

Moving in a circle, you danced your way around the deadly spear, never once going for an offensive move and always choosing defense moves. Perhaps that was why Okoye was pushing you so hard, you never went on the offense. You were only drawing out her attack.

“Put an end to this!” Okoye commanded, landing a bruising hit to your arm. You staggered to the side with a wince, her next strike you only barely deflected. Your left leg began to buckle beneath her punishing blows, sliding through the course sand. When your knife blocked the incoming spear, your arm shook, only just managing to hold off the wicked strikes. Okoye’s next strike made your leg fully buckle and give, you fell flat on your back with a heave. Breathing heavily, you felt the tip of the spear resting against your chin as Okoye stared into your eyes.

“I don’t like violence, Okoye, and my preferred choice of action is to talk rather than cross blades,” You told her, the fingers gripping your knife having long since gone numb. “Fighting has taken everything from me? Why should I have to humor it?”

“Because, my princess,” She softly told you. “Our enemies do not care that you prefer to use your words rather than your blade. They will put a bullet in your brain before thinking about speaking with you.” You let out a sigh and slumped back into the sand, hating that you knew that she was right.

Later that night, when the moon was high overhead, the stars sparkled, and your fire was beginning to die, you found yourself laying on the sand and staring at the cosmos. Your discussion and little training fight with Okoye had drained you mentally and physically… because you knew she was right. Wakandan enemies would put a bullet in your brain before humoring you with talk, and you hated it. Hated that violence appeared to always be the answer. Hated that people had to be hurt to solve problems. Your senses were finally attuned enough to his arrival, so you weren’t surprised when Namor approached you and sat down in the sand next to you.

“I’m really not interested in verbal sparring with an enemy, tonight.” You softly sighed, the ache in your heart still rather fresh from the talk hours earlier. Namor cocked his head, noticing that your mood was somber this night. Subdued and without the fire that usually burned within you.

“Are we enemies, k'iino’?” (Sun) Namor softly asked, looking down into your face. Even your eyes had a tiredness that he’d never seen before. What had you been up to this day to physically and mentally wear you out this much? You didn’t make a sign of hearing him, but you eventually replied.

“I don’t think enemies spend this much time together.” Your answer was absentminded. “But what else am I to call you as I am not one of your people?” Namor found that he disliked this listlessness of yours, greatly disliking the way your spark of life was subdued, almost absent.

“And if I request that you call me K’uk’ulkan? What will you do then, princesa?” Namor gently asked. “Will you refuse me?”

Staring at the sky, you pondered his request. K’uk’ulkan was the name that his people called him… but his enemies called him Namor. You weren’t either, Namor was quite clear on that. His actions alone proved that he never saw you as one. But what were you to do with this request because it was already bad enough that your mother didn’t know that he repeatedly snuck in Wakanda to visit… what would she think if she learned that Namor had asked you to call him K’uk’ulkan? You couldn’t possibly get in any more trouble at this point.

“Very well, K’uk’ulkan,” Namor enjoyed the way his name rolled off your tongue, quiet and beautiful. But he disliked the sober undertones and chose to tell you a story in hopes of soothing your melancholic state.

“My mother was human, my father a Purepecha traveler, he found love and paradise in piece of the Americas that you would call Tulum today. Then, it was Zama.” Your head turned to look at Namor as he spoke. “My mother and her village were driven from their maize farms by Spanish conquistadors who brought disease.”

“Smallpox,” You whispered, remembering the history you had learned while in school. Namor nodded at you, pleased that you were knowledgable in that particular time.

“They didn’t just bring smallpox, but their hateful language and dogma from another world.” Namor added, enjoying the way the dying fire splashed your face with flickering light. “Facing starvation, war and disease my people turned to Chaac. Our god of rain and abundance.”

Your eyes lifted to his elongated and pointed ears before dropping to the wings tucked against his ankles. Clearly someone had answered their prayers.

“My mother was pregnant with me at the time. She did not want to ingest the plant, for fear of what it may do to me. But the Shaman was convincing, fashioning her a bracelet from the jade and the sacred plant. He told her that I would be the first born in the new world.” Your fingers unconsciously went to the bracelet wrapped around your wrist. He wasn’t talking about this bracelet, was he? Namor’s smiled in memory of his mother telling him this very story. “The plant took away their ability to breathe air, but it enabled them to draw oxygen from the sea. My people settled in the ocean, away from the war and were cured of their diseases.”

Finding his voice soothing, and combined with the soft crackles of your dying fire and the sounds of the bush, your eyes grew heavy. You struggled to keep them open, looking into Namor’s gentle brown eyes. He was going to put you to sleep at this rate. You didn’t have the energy to care. The mutant in question wasn’t ignorant to your state, watching as you slowly slipped to sleep. Namor continued his story, pleased that your somber and listlessness was slipping from your body.

“My mother gave birth to me, and I became the first born son of Talokan. I was different from other Talokanil. A mutant. I looked different. I was small in size. A runt. But I could breathe the air our ancestors breathed.”

“That explains a lot,” You sleepily murmured. Namor’s lips twitched at your quip. “Cheeky fish boy.”

“I could swim in the sky and aged slower. I was still a child when my mother in elder age died from a heart mourning for her homeland.” Namor slowly finished his story as the fire burned out to black embers. You were now breathing steadily next to him, asleep and finally at peace. All lines of stress and somber no longer painted on your features. “It is admirable that you are so devoted to your belief of diplomacy, princesa. But I fear the surface world is far too violent and corrupt, it will poison you irreparably.”

Namor hadn’t meant to eaves drop on your conversation with the warrior general of your nation,  but it had given him a chance to learn how you saw the world. You detested violence, hated it, and while you could most definitely defend yourself if someone were to attack, you would never choose the offense. You truly were a gentle soul.

Rising to his feet, Namor collected your sleeping body and cradled you against his chest. He carried you away from the dead fire and into your hut. He’d never been in it before, but it was sparsely decorated, only the necessities occupying the space. Carrying you over to the small bed, he set you down carefully, making sure that your arms didn’t flop on your face. A glowing green caught Namor’s eyes and looking at your left wrist, he spotted his mother’s bracelet he had tied there weeks ago. It still looked fitting being wrapped around your wrist, and he would have no other wearing it but you.

“Wayak agradables, k’iino’,” (pleasant dreams) Namor whispered to you before departing.

Date Published: 4/2/23

Last Edit: 4/2/23

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#namor x reader #namor of talokan #namor fanfiction #namor x y/n #namor #namor fic #namor smut #wakanda forever #k'ul'kulkan #marvel #black panther 2

[brightwingedbat]

Commander Nastazya 27 - What Lies Beneath

(This story involves spoilers from Guild Wars 2: End of Dragons.)

(Also VERY LONG)

---

Commander Nastazya - What Lies Beneath - 1335 AE

It's a regular day at Commander Nastazya Ragewelder's home in Lion's Arch, sunny weather, a nice temperature. Both her and her mate Marcus Furyclash in their typical casual clothing, not doing much at all. Nothing could go better for them both, by all means they should be having a good time.

And yet…

Marcus' mind is still stewing on the thoughts of his brother Tantalus being alive, and how much he changed. How much he regrets not being there for him, and maybe he could've saved his brother from the life he was forced to live, a better life where the two of them could watch each of their sons grow. The thoughts echo in his mind as he gazes out to the sea from the breezy window.

Nastazya herself is still caught up in recent events, the shock of her kidnapped cub she rescued, and her old primus losing his tail and retiring. And then there's the thoughts of her wanting another cub, but unsure if she should go ahead, there's no telling what'll be in the future… Her role as Commander doesn't help with that either, it's still a hefty responsibility weighing on her.

They're both truly exhausted despite not doing all that much, and neither of them know what to do about it. That is until they both suddenly get a letter of invitation, from Rama of all people. It's an invitation to a party, seems Rama also has been finding the quiet a bit much lately and invited Dragon's Watch and other friends.

The two don't have anything better to do, plus it'll be a nice time to catch up with people again. They both agree to head on their way, but they do decide to go pick up some Ironbrew from the Black Citadel, a nice gift for Rama for setting up the party. Waypoint teleports and magic scrolls make for some quick travel.

---

The two arrive at the Red Duck Tea House in Cantha, and as they approach, hear Rama and Gorrik talk about how busy Marjory and Taimi are. On entering they realise that it's only Rama and Gorrik there, no one else has arrived. Curious, is everyone else really that busy?

Gorrik quickly greets the two when he sees them, but also comments on the two of them looking very exhausted. Strange, he thinks. Given the relative absence of world-ending threats he thought they would both appear far more relaxed, and yet that's far from the truth.

The charr simply brush it off, saying that it's nothing, just a bit tired after some recent events. They're sure the party will help ease their minds though, at least, they hope so.

Idle talks between the four reveal that everyone one else is too busy to be able to attend the party, despite all the food and drink Rama had ordered. It's just them, much to Rama's fierce disappointment. The gift from Marcus and Nastazya does help raise his spirits somewhat.

After a while of enjoying the food and refreshments, they finally bring to topic of the stack of papers on the table. Gorrik apparently sent in paperwork to start the Friends Detective Agency consisting of him and Rama, to the latter's disapproval of the name, but it's done now.

Aside from that, Gorrik gets a communicator call from Taimi, who apologises for not being able to attend the gathering. But she has news, the Jade Brotherhood have dug up something potentially very bad in Gyala Delve, which Gorrik calls an opportunity. The perfect time to gain some exposure as a detective company! Yao is also in the call too, and will be heading there.

Of course, the Commander and Lightbringer decide to also tag along with them. Things have been rather quiet for them, and they could do with the activity. That said, they don't seem all that enthused about it, something is making them hesitant… No point in dwelling on it further though, there's a problem and as always they're around to fix it.

They set off to the location of the mining trams at the east side of New Kaineng, but not before Marcus summons their packs of armour from a Mist rift, a small trick he's learned in recent time. Nastazya attires herself in her typical gladiatorial gear with her dual axes and greatsword, Marcus's gear is also mostly the same, but he has a new top similar to what Braham used to wear many years ago when they first met him.

Once at the trams, they take a lengthy ride to Gyala Delve, falling asleep during the ride at that too. They really must be exhausted…

---

On arrival to the jade quarries, they find not a single Jade Brotherhood member anywhere. Going further in they find Rama and Gorrik checking on an unconscious human. A short discussion on the place being essentially a ghost town, a scream interrupts them, immediately identified as Yao.

Nastazya and Marcus rush to the source of the sound, to find Yao struggling with a jade golem. A short bout with it allows Yao to get to fixing it up, they also tell the Commander that Chul-Moo is missing. The two charr split to question the Brotherhood around the quarry areas.

All information comes together as things are going very wrong, strange whispers, people acting odd. Very notably, a very thick haze within the mines. And once more just as they finished questioning they hear yet another scream, it's no shock to the two, they mutter complaints about do the Brotherhood all communicate by screaming?

Yao joins them too, together the three find Chul-Moo injured but awake beside a rock wall. As they're checking on him, a crazed Brotherhood member knows as Jin-Lee attacks them. Quickly, Nastazya and Marcus subdue the mad human, not that he's a match for either of them.

Once they're all safe, they talk with Chul-Moo about what's happening, and again it just adds more merit to the gossip of the other Brotherhood members. Yao suggests to Nastazya and Marcus about scoping out the inner parts of the mine, while also advising them about the Jade Bot filters available from the jade tech stands around.

Nastazya and Marcus decide splitting up and searching would do better than together, they have the communicators to keep in touch anyway if anything goes bad. And so, the charr delve further each armed with a jade tech scanner. Time to see what all this haze is about.

The air is thick within the massively open mines, and even more unsettlingly is the haze has an appearance not dissimilar to Void. Further scans find it composed of dragon magic like Aurene's, but with something else added to it… Gorrik confirms that Aurene says the Void is subdued, so whatever this is is something else, something wrong.

Curiously, Nastazya's breathing seems faster than normal and she starts hearing voices she shouldn't through the communicator when talking to Gorrik. Almorra Soulkeeper's voice, that can't be possible she thinks. Must just be static, can't be anything else. Marcus doesn't seem to hear any of these voices either, perhaps a merit of his experience as a Revenant.

Despite the voices, Nastazya continues the work, Marcus joining her once more as they test blocks of jade on globs of haze accumulating. Once done, they report the results to Gorrik who seems fascinated by them. Nastazya however asks Gorrik if he heard any other voices on their call, he assumes it might just be more Brotherhood interference.

Almorra's voice comes through the communicator to Nastazya's ears once again. "You… Always seeing monsters where there are none."

Ragewelder's ears flatten down and her breath halts, fear plain on her face. "I- I have to go." She mutters before putting the communicator away.

Marcus looks worriedly at his mate, a paw on her shoulder, she jerks up at the touch. "Naz? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing… Nothing. I'm fine." She responds with a slight heave to her breathing. Definitely not a good look for Furyclash to see.

"…You're clearly not, but alright. Let's finish up here first, this air here's real bad, might be that." Marcus says rather worriedly, he keeps close to his partner as he urges her to walk on further into the mines. He knows better than to try draw out an answer from her when she's like this.

"Y-yeah. Right."

---

The two travel deeper into the mines, meeting up once again with Gorrik, Rama and Yao. Plus Yao's jade mech Finn. As they go further in, with the help of Finn's explosives breaking down a rock wall, the group seem to be arguing amongst each other. Mainly Rama and Yao, while Gorrik tries to pacify them.

Marcus is too busy watching over Nastazya, until a demon ambushes them. Much to Marcus' horror, thanks to Mallyx in his head during the Void outbreak he's earned himself a deep phobia of the things. Ragewelder is quick to jump to the offense, removing the threat before it has a chance to hurt anyone, especially her partner who breathes a sigh of relief.

The attack manages to stop the arguing, which gives Gorrik a chance to ask Nastazya about the voices over the comms. She brushes it off, saying he was right about it just being interference while avoiding his gaze. The asura takes note of that, clearly she's not telling the truth.

Regardless, they need to continue further on, and encounter another odd demon with a void-like humanoid shape and white crackles around it. Together they all take it down, it seems to choke as it vanishes, with Nastazya taking a deep gasp of air at the same time.

When asked if she's alright, she mutters that it felt like she got the wind knocked out of her. Marcus doesn't waste a second to swap to Ventari in his head, administering a pulse of healing to his mate. A thankful nod from her, and yet more trodding towards the deepest part of the delve.

The tunnel opens up into a wide rocky area with three raised circular stone platforms in a vague mushroom-like shape, and above them swirls the unmistakeable energies of a Ley Line. Gorrik is quick to investigate, the jade this deep is absolutely thrumming with pure energy, charged by the Ley Line itself. The asura says he needs to get a closer look, which prompts Yao to get Finn to deploy a set of jade ziplines.

The moment they land on the first surface and walk forth, a hulking dark bipedal beast with a tentacled face and sharp claws appears. Rama immediately shouts out. "Oni!"

Suddenly it melts into a puddle of shadow, the puddles spread to each of the three stone platforms, a cloaked man rises from each. The same demon that vanished, but split apart. Gorrik claims it must be deceiving their senses and blurring reality, they have to split up to take it out. Rama and Yao head on to the other two platforms with Finn's ziplines, while Gorrik is aided by both Nastazya and Marcus.

The cloaked demon summons puddles of concentrated haze, bursting out in spirals around it. It focuses on repeatedly doing this over and over, while the three fighters all avoid the fierce, debilitating magics. Gorrik keeps up his holosmith defences, while Nastazya and Marcus go on an onslaught.

But just as they seem close to overwhelming it, their visions go darker, and suddenly they can only see the stone platform surrounded by the haze…

Nastazya's gaze darts around, Gorrik and Marcus have vanished… "Gorrik? Marcus?!" She calls out and receives no response, instead another being forms at the centre of the platform. Her eye widens in shock, a sight of someone long dead.

Forgal Kernsson, her partner in the Vigil, lost at Claw Island. The injured norn dissapointedly mutters. "You were special… one of the bravest warmasters in my order… Now that's changed, my friend."

"Wh-what…?" A slight sting to her heart, she shakes her head and quickly recovers her poise. "No, this is a trick. The demon's doing this."

More apparitions appear around the platform, slowly advancing towards Forgal in the centre. The haze seems to get thicker the closer they get, there's no doubt about it. Nastazya needs to protect him.

At the same time, Marcus also finds himself alone in a haze-filled platform. Going through much the same as his mate is, only this time he's given none other than Tybalt Leftpaw.

The disabled charr lays weakly at the centre, the same place that Forgal was. "You should be a little kinder to lost, broken things."

"Tybs…? But I am, I do care! I even lost use of my right paw like you!" Furyclash bellows out worriedly, it's now he notices the encroaching apparitions. "Kalla, you seeing this?"

The spirit's voice raises in his mind, serious given the matter at hand. (I am, but this doesn't seem right. I am using your eyes after all, if it's what you see, I see it too.)

"Yeah, it's not right. The demon probably, bastard. Gotta protect Tybs. Help me out here Razors!" Marcus calls, the spirits of Kalla's warband form to aid in fending off the monsters.

Clashing axes and greatsword, raining arrows and a spirit onslaught. Every apparition is reduced to dust, even though the two charr couldn't see each other, they were fighting the same opponents the whole time. The haze weakens, bringing them back out of the hallucination, with Gorrik successfully holding his own against the weakened encloaked demon. He's amidst shouting out. "Can you hear me? Yao wants you over on their platform. They need back up!"

Nastazya is quick to rush out a hissing remark, still focusing on the demon. "I know what you're doing. Using my mentor against me. You're pathetic."

Marcus keeps his muzzle shut, still getting his bearings after the shift back to reality. Kalla's warband dissipates back.

The asura ends up taken somewhat aback by Ragewelder's sudden outburst, he had been calling out to her the entire time with no response only to hear this now… "Commander? We'll talk later, I promise. Yao needs you now, okay?"

"Huh? Yao? Yes. Right." Nastazya snaps back from her rage, she glances over to the rather confused looking mate of hers. There's no time to question or answer, Yao needs help. "Let's go."

"…Uh, yeah." Furyclash feels much the same, no time to discuss. He soon follows his partner up the jade zipline to the jade tech engineer's platform.

"Help! I can't keep this up for much longer!" Yao shouts out desperately, they're barely fending off the demon's attacks…

"Sorry, Yao. Got out of sorts for a moment…" Nastazya utters apologetically, she and Marcus go to charge in to battle, but just as they get close they're drawn once more into the thick haze. Marcus and Yao vanish from Nastazya's sight, and instead she hears another voice…

"It's good to see you here." The silhouette at the centre of the platform becomes Eir Stegalkin, looking as wounded as she was before she was impaled by a vinetooth.

"STOP!" Nastazya inadvertently bellows out with a deep sorrow weaved in her voice. A harsh grimace forms upon her face as mordrem apparitions begin to appear, and go for Eir.

While she's fighting with all her strength, the illusory norn continues on to berate the Commander. "These people love you… You don't care…"

For some reason, these words bite harder than ever before. Ragewelder has to hold back her tears, she doesn't know why this is striking so harshly… "You know that's not true…" She utters mournfully, trying to keep her mind away from it amidst the demon's battle.

Marcus however only sees Yao vanish, but soon feels a pit in his stomach from the next sight. It's Nastazya, wounded and laying at the centre. "Naz-!" He calls out, but soon his attention falls more on the approaching demons. They're too fast, he needs to prevent them getting closer now, summoning the warband once again.

Nastazya hisses out hatefully, fangs bared. "Abandoning me once again, just like when you chased after Rytlock! Leaving me alone, to deal with everything myself! What kind of a mate are you?"

"N-Nastazya…?" This catches the revenant heavily off guard, his breath halts as he stares back at her. "But- But I- I didn't mean to…"

(Marcus, the demons!) Kalla roars in his head, pulling him back to the task at hand. He fires another volley of mist-rift arrows at a nearby demon, but he's losing concentration.

Ragewelder growls, glaring deeply at her mate. "You'll just leave me to die, like you did with Balthazar. You let him free, you killed me! I had to get myself back, and here I am about to lose everything again! It's all your fault! You could never protect me! Not even against Bangar!"

The words rattle Marcus straight to his core, tearing at him from within. "No, no, NO- I WON'T-! You're my everything, I couldn't bear losing you! I'll keep you safe, I promise! I promise! Please don't say this, please-!" He pleads with all his heart, tears already drip from his eyes, it's affecting his aim. Has Nastazya really felt this way the entire time? "I'm fighting, see! I'm still fighting for you!"

"For how long, until I die agai-" The voice is cut off as the haze weakens once more, Nastazya is standing with her greatsword heavy in her grip, an acute sadness in her eye. None of the wounds which were present to Marcus' eyes on her any longer.

Furyclash gazes in a heartrent expression, was that the haze doing that? Did she really say any of it? "Naz…?" He mutters out in a weak voice, looking on edge to burst into a sob.

Ragewelder isn't taking notice, recovering from her own experience. "I never wanted to hurt them. Eir…"

Marcus finds himself utterly silent, unable to act. Both he and his mate are stock silent. Only interrupted by Yao's next shout.

"Finn, shield Rama! Quick!"

"Defense engaged, The "Rama" has been shielded." The jade mech responds robotically, having jetted itself up to the final platform to set up the barrier. A massive wave of haze explodes from over it, with the shield breaking from the force, knocking the robot down.

"Commander, 'the Rama' could really use you over here!" The detective yells, having sustained some damage from the burst of haze.

Nastazya's focus goes entirely on Rama here, she quickly makes for the jade zipline up, rushing over to Finn and Rama. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" Her voice is on the edge of breaking, the haze is taking more of a toll on her.

Furyclash finally snaps to his senses on seeing her travel up to help Rama, he's not going to prove those words right. He needs to stay by his mate, he needs to keep her safe.

"Less apologizing, more helping!" Rama groans, before finally getting back to his footing with Nastazya taking the demon's attention.

"Do you see them, too?" Ragewelder asks, pure desperation in her voice. She needs an answer, this is tearing at her.

"Yeah. We're fighting them. What are you talking about?" Rama questions, all he's been seeing is the cloaked demon that originally split in three.

The haze starts to grow thicker once again, the others around vanish as a dreadfully familiar voice calls out. "I'm just passing through…"

"NO!" The utter pain that sparks through Nastazya's chest… A person to cut the deepest, an inspiration. A mentor. A friend. A hero. Almorra Soulkeeper.

"We need to talk… So many lives lost…" The wounded spectre hisses, glaring at the Commander.

"There was no other way…" Ragewelder's voice passes the point of breaking, this is getting too much, she can't hold it back any longer.

"I was nothing to you. You'll be the end of the charr!" More scathing remarks from Soulkeeper, made to cut into Nastazya's heart, to rive open her wounds.

Almorra was so much to her, the reason she got this far. To hear that from her, it's shattering. "That's not fair! I did everything I could! Almorra!" Her voice cracks as she shouts her old friend's name, tears stream down her cheeks. "I've put my all into doing what I can for everyone! All that I have! Everyone takes a piece from me- I DIDN'T ASK TO BE THE COMMANDER!!" She manages to bring forth her rage, her deepest rage against herself. And with it, strikes forth at the demons approaching Almorra.

Marcus isn't brought in to hallucination this time, he hears every word his mate speaks, and puts his all into trying to get her back. "Nastazya! It's not Almorra, it's the demon! You've got to snap out of it! Naz!" He calls and calls, but he's not getting through to her. All he can do is fight off the demons…

(The quicker we take this thing out, the quicker Nastazya goes to her usual self. Quickly, summon the- Demons!) Kalla's voice suddenly shifts, a most horrifying voice, deep and raspy. Unnatural…

Marcus, amidst summoning Kalla's warband, finds his fur stand on end. His ears flatten down and his tail curls beneath him. That horrible voice at the end… His eyes see what he summons, and it is not the spirits of charr. It is yet more demons, his wide eyes stare in pure fear. "No no no no no-!"

(You can't hold me forever, your body will be my vessel to take.) The venomous words of a great evil echo in his head, Mallyx the Unyielding.

Furyclash staggers back, holding on to his head, riving at it with both claw and metal. "NO! NO! GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" A streak of blood drips down his forehead, from none other than his own doing.

Rama stares at both of the charr, one is uncharacteristically fighting in a fit of melancholy, the other is literally clawing through his own skin. "Hey, what is going on with you two?!" He questions in an outburst, still struggling against the demon.

Yao and Gorrik both finish off with their split demons, arriving up to assist the others in the battle against the last. Yao approaches up next to Marcus, trying to rouse him from whatever it is he's doing. "Marcus? What are you-"

"STAY BACK!" Furyclash roars, backing away from the engineer. The demon's voice is echoing loudly in his head, threatening to take over, against and again. "Mallyx is in my head! It's not safe! RRRGH! GET! OUT!"

(YOU. ARE. MINE-!)

Furyclash snarls upsettingly, cowering away from his friends. He doesn't know what to do, he can't get it out. The voice is always there, digging in deeper, until…

(Marcus! Don't listen to it!) Mallyx's voice is torn away, replaced by another, a familiar voice…

"Wh-what…? That can't…" It manages to break him out of the hallucination, there's no demons he summoned, there's no demon in his head. Only… "Tybalt?"

(No fear, like you showed me on Claw Island! You can do this, I know you can!) It's clear as day, Tybalt Leftpaw, spurring him onward.

Back to his senses, he can't let himself fall to any more of the oni's tricks. "Right, Naz needs me." He glances to Yao, nodding affirmedly. "I'm good, oni messing with my head. An old friend snapped me out of it, now then…" He nocks an arrow, it soars accurately to one of the last encroaching demons, more accurate than he usually is.

(Perfect shot, just like me and my rifle!)

The felling of that demon reduces the haze once more, pulling Nastazya out of the hallucination. But she's still looking distraught. Fighting wildly, charging right at the now uncloaked oni. "No more, no more…!"

It stabs at Marcus to see her like this, he's never, ever seen her fight in such a desperate way. Not full of sorrow like this. "It's gonna be fine, Naz! I'm here!"

There's no response to him, she's locked away in a fierce onslaught. An effective one though, she's tearing away at the demon and barely giving it a chance to fight back. The beast learning first hand what happens when you enhance the emotions of a charr who fights with her rage.

With the other four joining in, it's a short matter of time before the beast is finally fallen.

And yet…

There's little time to cheer, as the oni floats from the floor and begins to recover all its wounds. Absorbing the ley line energies directly.

The others seem ready to fight once more, but not Ragewelder. She starts hyperventilating, the haze here is thick, she can barely breathe right. She falls to a knee, grasping her throat. And slowly, starts losing consciousness.

"Naz! Nastazya!" Marcus quickly runs to her side, holding an arm around her front, trying to prop her up. After the words he's been given from earlier, he's scared more than ever.

Rama doesn't want to take any chances here, he orders the others. "Let's get out of here! Now! The Commander's blacking out! We need to get her and go!"

Nastazya's hearing becomes fuzzy, as does her vision. The last things she hears, in the voice of Almorra Soulkeeper and Eir Stegalkin. (You haven't changed a bit. Killing and corrupting, it's what you were born to do.)

Her vision goes black.

---

Nastazya stirs, the light assaults her opening eye, and something tightly clenches around her paw. She glances over, to see her tear-filled mate's face. "…Marc?"

A huge gasp of relief comes from Furyclash, he immediately leans down over her, embracing around her. "Nastazya… I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry…"

"Wh- Hey, It's alright, I'm fine. See? C'mon." Ragewelder utters softly, trying to sit herself up, barely managing to get Marcus up too. She notices Gorrik, Rama and Yao are standing nearby watching too.

Truthfully, Marcus' apologies come from the blame thrown at him from the demon encounter, the failing to protect her. The demon was right, he did fail her again. "But I, I didn't protect you, again…"

"That… Don't beat yourself up over it. I wasn't much help, was I…?" She admits sadly, she can't look at him in the face, she barely noticed he was even there when Almorra showed up.

"Burn me, I could say the same here. That demon was…" Marcus shakes his head, he doesn't know what to say. He is at least gladdened his mate seems well.

At this, Gorrik clears his throat to get their attention. "Ahem, apologies for interrupting but- We were discussing what's next while Marcus was watching over you. Taimi called."

"And I'm still here!" She announces from the communicator without hesitation.

"Ah, yes. Well, Joon was angry, but thrilled about the energy source! We just need to lure that demon away, and we have some ideas! But they…" Gorrik hesitates, he knows the Commander won't like it.

Nastazya sits up properly, with Marcus beside her. Her brow furrows as she looks to the asura. "What is it?"

"We, uh… We're going to have to do some neuro-parasitological investigation, the demon seemed particularly attracted to you. Given it appears to prey on traumatic memories, this may be… Difficult." The asura admits.

Nastazya falls silent, she feels Marcus embrace her once again. Her tail swishes uncomfortably behind her as her ears droop. "…If that's what it takes."

Taimi speaks from the communicator once more. "Sorry, Commander. But it is important work. I'll fill Joon in. Keep us posted if you can. And good luck."

It's silent for a while after, Marcus finally speaks up, worried for his mate. "I think it's best if us two get back home, I want to keep a watch over Naz, away from this place."

Rama nods in agreement. "By all means, she inhaled a lot of that haze stuff. Probably better that way."

"Keep in touch, alright? Otherwise I'll get worried." Yao answers, a genuine concern in their expression.

"We will, I'll make sure of it. See you some time then." Furyclash gets himself up, then aids his mate to her feet as well. Her quiet is unsettling him, he's not used to this. "Naz?"

"…Let's go." She mutters, all of this has been too much, she doesn't want to talk.

Together the two set off, first to Arborstone, then the asura gate back to Lion's Arch. Their travel is some of the quietest the two have been while beside the other.

---

It's night time at Lion's Arch, Nastazya and Marcus are back at their home. They've been trying to relax the rest of the day, back in their casual outfits. But it hasn't been going well. Nastazya's mind's been stuck on the words the demon twisted, and Marcus can see it getting to her.

He doesn't know all of what she saw, she's not mentioned it. Not that he's mentioned what he saw either, he's too scared to.

The ocean waves and light sound of crowds from the outside fill the quiet, the two sitting side by side on the red couch.

At some point, it gets too much for Nastazya, she can't bear it. Her voice is light, her face scrunches in sorrow. "Marc… It's too much. I can't take those words anymore."

"Huh? What words?" He asks curiously, worriedly. He brings his right arm around her back, his tech paw on her side. "Tell me."

Ragewelder is quiet, but then the words burst through, loud and angrily. "I'll be the end of the charr, killing and corrupting is what I was born to do… Those voices were right, they all were! Bangar only went after Jormag because I had Aurene! We went into a civil war, lost so many of us and got us corrupted into frost legion all because I was the spark to the flame!"

Furyclash grimaces, that's what she's been tormenting herself over. No wonder she looks so distraught. He needs to try shift that mindset. "Naz, you know that's not fair on you, you didn't have any choice. Bangar's who mobilised them, not you."

She's not listening to it, the words are too strong. "But he only did that because of ME! We lost too many, Rytlock and Crecia lost Ryland, Ursa and Patia lost Maxim. I had to kill Elexus, even got Almorra killed! Who knows how many more warbands lost their families all because I'm this DAMNED DRAGON 'CHAMPION'!"

"Nastazya! That was all far out of your hands! You're not the one to blame!" Marcus finds his own voice raising, else he fears his mate won't listen to him. But it seems to just make things worse.

Nastazya growls harshly, not at Marcus, but at herself. All the guilt she has fit to bursting. "How the hell am I not to blame?! Everything went to shit all because of who I am, even before I was the 'Champion' I still got Faust branded! Tullia, Graw and Clio all died because I had to rush in to a brandstorm, all just to kill my own branded mother! I was always like thi-"

"NASTAZYA! STOP!" Marcus yells, utter sorrow laced in every word. He quickly pulls her near, nuzzled beneath his neck while he attempts to comfort her. Left paw brushing down the side of her neck and hair, he can feel her quiver as her sobs begin, and soon he shares in this. "Nastazya… Please… It's not your fault, it's NOT your fault… I don't know what you saw in that haze, but it twists you, twists what you know. Gorrik said so, when you were out."

"Marc… It- it was all so raw. I can still feel the impact, that those words were true." Nastazya mutters amidst her weeps, bringing a hand up to grip upon her mate's arm for support, for consolation.

"…The haze, it… made me think Mallyx was in my head, even saw Kalla's warband as demons. And that wasn't true." The next words, he's unsure to share. But if he can't do it, he can't expect his mate to either, so with a light-voiced tone he reveals. "…It also showed me you, you… blamed me for abandoning you to chase after Rytlock in the Mists. You blamed me for letting Balthazar kill you, and still do to this day. Is that… All true?"

Nastazya falls stock still, her cries catch to silence. Now she knows all of that is not what she feels, not at all. "What…? No. No, no, that's not true at all-! Why would you even think that?"

"Because the haze made me, just like it's making you blame yourself right now." His embrace around his mate's neck and back grows a slight tighter, his breath staggers followed by a sniffle. "You see? It's not true, you're not to blame. You aren't…"

Ragewelder is silent for a while, meekly nuzzling her snout in the crook of her mate's neck. "…Burn me, how the hell are we meant to get through this? It all feels too much. How are we-?"

Furyclash cuts off his mate's words before she starts falling into another spiral, he needs to support her above all else right now, he needs her support at that too. "We'll get through this, Naz… We always do, always have done…"

She starts falling into the despair again, just thinking about that demon's effects on her. It's debilitating. "…I don't know how much more I can take… It's always us- Every. Time! Why…? Why is it always me?!"

"I don't know… But what I do know is despite everything, we're still here. I'm still here, and I always will be here for you. Alright? You got that?" He tries to assure her the only way he knows how, his presence.

"…I got it. I got it." Nastazya repeats, trying her best to pull herself back. But her doubts are still strong. "…Burn me, I don't want to go back there. I don't want Taimi and Gorrik to rip these… wounds back open."

"I know, I know. I don't either. I wish I had an answer to all this, I wish I did. Whatever happens after all this, I'll do anything to make things better for you, whatever it takes." Furyclash promises, with all his genuineness. His mate is everything.

Nastazya at least feels a calm over her, gradually. Her arm moves to embrace her partner's side. "I'll hold you to that, so you better not leave me. Don't you dare ever leave me."

Marcus' voice is soft, he's glad, she's finally calming down. He knows exactly the right words now, the words to ease her. "I promise, I'll stay by you, no matter what."

A sudden memory, rushes right back. All those years back, in Maguuma Jungle. "…I remember those words, as clear as day. When you returned…"

"And I still mean them just as much as I did then. Always. No matter how much it hurts, I'll be there by your side to help, I'll be your pillar."

"…You are, and always have been the one that keeps me standing." Ragewelder mutters, a smile finally forms upon the side of her teary muzzle.

A tender quiet now envelops the two, nothing like the anxiety filled silence from before. They both know, as long as they're together, it'll all work out.

Just before the two head off to get ready for bed, there's one last matter to speak about.

(So, Marcus. When were you planning to tell me you and that warmaster got together?) The voice arrives in Marcus' head, Tybalt, seems the spirit has found a new home to hang out in.

"…Naz, there's one other thing I have to tell you." Marcus says with some cheer, he gazes cheerfully into his mate's eye.

"Hm? What is it?"

"When I thought Mallyx was in my head, I got snapped out of it by another voice. Turns out, when I was reaching out for a voice to replace him, I accidentally invoked someone new." Furyclash explains, he seems rather happy about this one to her though.

"Who is it to get you smiling like that?" Nastazya asks, her joy returning to her face.

"Tybalt Leftpaw." He announces, the smile on his face seems to spread wider with it.

Her eye widens, now that is a surprise. "What? Really?"

"Yeah, it's great, hearing his voice again. I've missed him. Somehow I'm a better shot with him invoked too, so pretty damn useful too!" A light chuckle from the male charr, his ears then prick up.

(Hey! Are you saying I wouldn't be useful without that? You got so mean…)

Marcus grins. "Just playing with you, Tybs."

"I suppose something good did come of us going down to that delve… How much does he know about us?" She questions curiously, she doesn't know anything about when she was out cold.

"Not much really, his memories are still just back from Claw Island. He's surprised I got together with 'That Warmaster.'"

"Oh, really now?" Nastazya hums, brushing her chin with a finger. "So he doesn't know we have cubs either."

(YOU HAVE CUBS?!)

Marcus grimaces, that volume was a shock to his head. "…He does now." He mutters, with a slight chuckle afterwards. He speaks back to Tybalt now. "Yeah, Vita and Galvar, they're four now. Good cubs, Vita can be a little menace. Galvar is a quiet boy. We should go visit sometime, you can see them through my eyes!"

(Ohh, this is so exciting! I bet they're cute!)

"The cutest cubs on Tyria, right Naz?" Marcus answers, smiling to his mate.

"What kind of mother would I be if I said no to that?" Ragewelder shakes her head, a light laugh escaping. "They are, the both of them. They're who we fight for."

(As you should! Ahh, I missed so much, being dead and all. But better late than never! Couldn't get stuck in a better person's head.)

"Aw, Tybs. You're gonna make my ears red." Furyclash brushes the back of his neck. "He says as we should, he missed a lot, but he's happy he's stuck in my head at least."

Nastazya crosses her arms, though she's still smiling. "Guess I have to get used to you not having Kalla around all the time, don't I?"

"I'll have her around now and again, don't worry about that. But…" Marcus sighs deeply. "I really missed Tybalt, y'know?"

"I know you did." She nods softly. "I'm glad you've found him that way, suppose I'll see how things go."

"It's gonna be great, I know it." Marcus soon finds himself yawning. "Ah, burn me. Think it's time to sleep. We'll talk more tomorrow, Tybs."

(You got it! We're gonna have so much to talk about. Ahh, you got old Two-tibs A'whisker excited even more!)

"Singe my whiskers, I almost forgot about that name." Marcus laughs cheerily. "Ahh, Two-tibs A'whisker and Bloodcovered Backstabbing Blackjack the Blade. What a pirate team we were."

"Marcus, bed time before you get stuck in another conversation. C'mon." Nastazya urges him, she's rather jovial about it thought. She's happy to see him so glad.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming." Furyclash grins toothily, before finally joining his mate in readying for bed.

They've still got some doubts and fears hidden under their skin, fear about the oni and how to deal with it. But that can come when it comes, better to keep their minds focused on other things until then. Together, they can keep going on.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #charr #nastazya ragewelder #marcus furyclash #gw2 spoilers #writing #what lies beneath

[andywinter16]

Hello again! I say bingo! date night with Libertus and Nyx! Thank you very much in advance! :D

 Hi again! @stars-chan :D Uuuuu, I had some cute ideas for these boys and their date nights! Let´s dig in :D (also hope you don´t mind that I made the reader neutral? I just want everyone to enjoy :) ) I am also sorry, it took me so long ( work and other projects kept me away) 

galadh words used: 

*alowene - heart of hearts

tewe týchy - my luck

tewe selenaís- my moon

Libertus Ostium: Little Galadh echoed laughter of it´s inhabitants. In the air was happiness that was´t felt since the fall of Galadh. It was magnificent sight to whoever found it´s way down there. Whole district lighted up with colours of a banners, air saturated with exotic perfumes and spices. The refugees of Galadh dressed in their homeland colourful garb, hairs styled into intricated braids. Merchants were shouting from their stalls to attract customers, lively as ever those people of Ramuh. You were so fascinated with the Rain´s festival, you stumbled over and started to fall down. Luckily two strong hands covered in scars catched you first.

 “Well, look at you, I just turn over for a sec and you´re off somewhere!” teased lightly, his warm breath brushes over your neck. “I am sorry Lib, it´s just ... I never saw Little Galadh so alive before. Also” you turn around in his tender embrace,” you look so stunning in your celebration garb, how would I not fall ?” you winked. Libertus cheeks turned dusty pink. Nobody would believe you, If you told them that this man blushed so easily at your genuine compliments or act of kindness. He kissed your forehead softly, adoration obvious in his stormy eyes. “ Then what are we waiting for alowene, the night is too young. I want to show you all that Rain´s festival has to offer.” 

He lets you go from his embrace, and puts his arm around your waist. Always so protective of his precious. Lib let´s you lead to whatever stall catches your interest first. He was mesmerized when your eyes lit up like a child in toy store when you were trying something new. Your mood was so contagious, Libertus wasn´t even grumbling much, when some food wasn´t completely authentic. There was also lot of festival games like water rings, pin the coeulr´s tail or hidden marlboro. Lib excelled especially at the last one, from which he won you a big plushy Marlboro. You dubbet it affectionaly Libertus the Second. At his raised eyebrow you just simply explained: “When you´re not home with me I get lonely , so I could at least cuddle him” Lib envelops you in needy hug, glarings slightly at the plushie. “Now now tewe týche, you have a real deal right there” You laugh at his antic, kissing his temple softly. 

Libertus then took you on one of the bigger terrace in the district. It was around midnight. There were prepared comfy chairs for spectators for whatever show was suppose to happen. (You had some idea) Lib sat down pulling you with him into his lap. His warm was comforting in the chilly night. “And now for the best part.” Like from another world sparkly fireworks began to appear in the sky. You were so mesmerised by the sight of the lights. Libertus felt tug at his heart when he watched you, he shall cherish this moment till his last breath.

Nyx Ulric: “Nyx,” you whispered” why are we again sneaking around the halls of the citadel on our date night”? your silly boy flashed you a mischievous grin. You were currently hidding in one of the niches behind heavy baldachin. When the Crownsguards passed by your spot Nyx took your hand and lead you to the jammed door. It leads to dimly lighted hallway lined with paintings. “Nyx, seriously what are you planning, you goofball?” you were naturally curious. 

For these past few weeks Nyx was either deployed on frontlines or busy with other Kingsglaive duties (and let´s be honest having to work extra shifts for insubordination). You knew what you were getting into,no one really said it wouldn´t be easy. You felt like at some point that maybe he was avoiding you. What if he had found someone else? Those ugly thoughts flodded your mind, even though you knew they were silly. Nyx blessed be his hearth and intuition, stops in his tracks. “Tewe selenaís, what is wrong?” he scoops you closer, your forehead touching in a familiar gesture. “Nyx, it´s ... nevermind, just me being silly with my thoughts” you cares gently his scarred face. He doesn´t buy it in slightest. Instead Nyx pushed the door open, revealing hidden gem inside the walls of Citadel, the royal gardens. It catches your breath away. “Oh, and there I thought it was me, who stealth your breath away.” he grins like a cheshire cat, crashing your lips together. “Now come on, I didn´t bribe Luche with my chocolate, just for nothing” grumbles a little. The thought of Nyx parting with his chocolate and giving it to Luche was so amusing. ( Luche was well known for his sweet tooth, especially for chocolate)  You went hand in hand with Nyx through the beautiful well kept garden. The path was lined with many deciduous trees mainly beeches, oaks, elms some of which you didn´t even recognize. The air was full of fragrance from the various flowers that grew here. Nyx pointed at one of the flowers that catched your attention “ That´s hydrangea, it is native flower on our islands. Galadh is perhaps inhospitable, but these thrive there like no other”  he explained briefly. Your walk ended at little pond whose surface glittered like jewels in the moonlight. Around him were lovely ducks sleeping.

“Please, have a seat sweetheart”  he softly smiles and gestures to blanket with pillows. It was lighted with candles, plates were full of delicious food and on the sides were prepared glasses with beverages. “Nyx, that´s ... oh my god, I am  truly speechless. You put so much effort into it, love”  Nyx treated you with a blissful smile. You both dined in silence, enjoying each other's presence.

“I hope whatever plagued your mind is gone” he started sheepishly” I know these few weeks I wasn´t the perfect boyfriend for you. I was scared Y/N, every damn  time i left your embrace for a war, I was afraid i wouldn't come back to you. I had to get it right in my head first. And it was thanks to my friends that I didn't make the worst decision of my life.” The kiss he gave you was different from the previous ones, he put all his love and adoration into it. You melted into him, every dark thought forgotten. You then laid on the blanket and looked at the stars, hugging each other lovingly. Because these moments are worth any hardship.

#ffxv #ffxv kingsglaive #nyx ulric #libertus ostium #fluff #bingo ask #writing prompt #I hope it doesn´t feel rushed #is this even fluff? #maybe little bit angst? #People bribing Luche with chocolate is my Canon stuff #I believe my Lib is more OCC that I wanted #okay maybe Nyx too #nyx ulric x reader #y/n #libertus ostium x reader

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

8: Itching

Heal my Wounds

itching/burning/collared

Warnings: Lady whump (environmental), broken bones, blood

This is part of a series. If you haven’t, I suggest starting at Part 1.

.

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Valadan made it two steps out of the portal before he collapsed. As his legs gave way under him, he managed to fall backwards, to make sure Josephine would land on top of him. 

People came running, surrounding him. Asking him questions. Even if he would have understood them, he wouldn’t have had the breath to reply. When they lifted Josephine off him, he let go, his arms dropping uselessly to the ground.

“Save her. Please, please save her.”

His words were more of a breathless wheeze than anything. Valadan doubted anyone even heard him. He stared at the sky, wondering why it was so dark, until he remembered that this citadel’s portal was inside a hall.

Some of the voices around him sounded familiar. Tassilo, and Trevor. Attention shifted away from him. Perhaps because of Marian, or simply because chances stood better to get answers out of any of the others.

“Hey boss. You all right?” someone asked. Blurry, orange and red streaks, towering above Valadan. Lee.

“Yeah.” Valadan could barely get his voice to cooperate. “Help the others.” It was an order. Kinda. Anything to get the kalani to leave him alone. “Go.”

Lee hesitated for a moment only, then he left. Valadan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before he tried to at least sit up. His arms were shaking, his legs weak and wobbly, but he somehow managed to. With his arms propped against his legs, hunched over and trying to catch his breath, he listened.

Footsteps approached. “Are you hurt?” This time he didn’t know the source of the voice.

“No,” he managed to say. If only they’d stop fucking asking him that!

As he raised his hands, to wipe his eyes, he froze. Perhaps they wouldn’t ask him that if he wasn’t covered in blood. Her blood. On his hands, on his arms, on his armor. Valadan felt sick.

He looked around, blinking fresh tears away. At this very moment, no one was paying him any more attention. A few people were crowded around someone on the ground — probably Marian. Others took care of the horses, who didn’t react well to all the noise and the commotion. Time for him to fuck off.

He scrambled to his legs, stumbling towards the wall, leaning against it as soon as he had reached it. He had to get back to his room. Get out of those bloodstained clothes. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the luxury of an attached bathroom, a fact he was reminded of when he passed one of the common washing rooms. After a moment’s hesitation, he dragged himself inside.

He had to get the blood off.

Bent over one of the sinks, Valadan scrubbed his hands and arms, soaking the sleeves and sides of his armor. The water running down the drain was red. So much red. It didn’t stop, no matter how much he scrubbed.

When the red turned blurry, he stopped, gripping the edge of the basin with both hands. Fresh blood was trickling down from where he had scrubbed his skin raw, leaving faint pink trails on his fingers. Valadan stared at them, watched them change direction as he raised his hand, to reach for the soap again. When he heard footsteps behind him, he froze, fingers closed around the soap.

“Hey? Are you alright? Do you need help?”

“Stop fucking asking me that!” he shouted, whirling around, throwing the soap in the same motion. It bounced off the wall with a very unsatisfying thud, leaving a little mark on the polished wood next to the asker’s head. Some kid, still wet behind the ears, now staring at him wide-eyed.

“S-sorry,” they stammered, almost falling over their feet on their way out of the washing room.

Well fuck. Valadan stared at the empty doorway. At least it stayed empty. But washing his hands didn’t work, and now the fucking soap was lying on the floor, and he couldn’t bring himself to pick it up again. Whatever bit of composure he had left, it was fading fast. He had to get out of here.

Stumbling along the corridor, he kept his head low, turning away from the few people he came across. One probably wanted to ask yet another concerned question, but Valadan pushed ahead, storming past them before they could finish their sentence. 

When he finally found a side door, he ripped it open, slamming it against the wall. Some kind of garden lay before him; herbs or vegetables or some shit. It was as good a place as any to break down. Valadan staggered along a narrow, sandy path, leading him past raised plots filled with blooming plants. Behind an old oak tree he sank to the ground, leaning against the rough bark. The trunk was wide enough to hide him from anyone entering the garden, and it didn’t seem like there was anything noteworthy on this side of the tree.

He wrapped his arms around himself and started to cry.

By the time Valadan managed to drag himself back to his room, it was night. He padded through the darkness, stubbing his toe on the fucking chair he hadn’t put back at its fucking place before he had left for this fucking mission. He kicked it again, making it crash against the wall and sending a new wave of pain through his toes.

“Fuck,” he muttered. If the chair had still been in range, he would have kicked it again. 

The pain throbbing in his toe reminded him that he was still wearing his boots. And his armor. His bloody armor. Suddenly he couldn’t get it off fast enough, fumbling with the clasps with trembling fingers. Piece after piece he dropped carelessly on the floor, shoving them aside with his foot, so he wouldn’t fall over them as well.

When all that was left was his underwear, he shoved the pile of armor one last time, before walking over to his bed. No other forgotten objects tried to ambush him, so he found himself sprawled on the mattress a moment later. If only he could take off his memories as he had taken off his armor.

Her blood, and the wrongness of her limbs, and her pale face. The skin on his chest itched, but his searching fingers found nothing. No dried blood, not even a scratch. How was it fair that he was completely unharmed, that she got hurt for saving him and Marian?

If only she’d survive. If only he’d get to see her again, her ice-blue eyes piercing him as she would tell him what a fucking asshole he’d been. 

Praying to the god of chaos probably wouldn’t do much good. He did it anyway.

Tagging: @dont-touch-my-soup​​​​​ @whumpshaped​​​​​ @whump-in-the-moonlight​

#Heal my Wounds #write me a novel #whump #fantasy whump #lady whump #my writing

[countlessrealities]

{ IMPORTANT HEADCANONS TO CONSIDER }

Muse: Evil Morty

CAN THEY USE CHOPSTICKS? Yes. He’s pretty good with them, no matter how small or slippery the bits of food might be. He has learnt while traveling the multiverse with his original Rick. Moreover, since becoming president, he has taken up the habit of indulging, even if just in rare occasions, in more exotic foods, Earthen and alien alike, and some of them require to be eaten with chopsticks or similar tool.

WHAT DO THEY DO WHEN THEY CAN'T SLEEP? Sleep is something he struggles a lot with, for several reasons (nightmares first and foremost), so he has a few distractions he uses to keep himself occupied with during his sleepless nights.

If he has work he takes care of it first and foremost, be it presidential responsibilities or checking in with the progresses of his real plans.

If not, he goes on walks, touring the areas of the Citadel that tend to be the quietest at night. Parks, purely residential neighbours, the roofs of the highest buildings. He sits and looks up at the artificial sky, allowing himself to daydream about what his life will be once free of Rick and his world.

Other nights he stays in, reading or tinkering with the latest prototypes the Citadel labs have submitted to him.

WHAT WOULD THEY IMPULSE BUY AT THE GROCERY STORE? He’s not very likely to impulse buy anything, but if he did it would probably be a couple of boxes of his favourite kind or tea.

THEIR COFFEE ORDER: He usually picks tea over coffee, but the few times he drinks it, he usually gets either a macchiato or an expresso with a tea spoon of sugar.

WHAT SORT OF APPS WOULD THEY HAVE ON THEIR SMARTPHONE? Task manager apps, encrypted chats, hacking tools, tracking systems, surveillance. All specifically developed on his orders.

HOW DO THEY ACT AROUND CHILDREN? He never really had a chance to be around children. Nowadays, the only people he has contacts with are mostly versions of himself and of Rick. He ran into children of different species while he was still travelling with his Rick, but he barely acknowledged them and never engaged. If he were to, he’d probably put on the friendly, considerate facade he uses for his presidential public appearances and make the interaction as brief as possible.

WHAT WOULD THEY WATCH ON TV WHEN THEY’RE BORED AND NOTHING THEY REALLY LIKE IS ON? Usually, he just turns the TV off and finds something else to do. Otherwise, he might put on some talk show or the news to keep in the background while working. 

Muse: Evil Rick

CAN THEY USE CHOPSTICKS? Yes. There’s very few sorts of cutlery he doesn’t know how to handle. Having travelled as much as he has after leaving his Earth behind, he has run into so many civilisations and customs that nowadays he knows his way around most tools, of any sort.

WHAT DO THEY DO WHEN THEY CAN'T SLEEP? He doesn’t sleep much in general, also because his modified physiology allows him to go on without sleeping for prolonged periods of times. If he decides to rest and doesn’t manage to, he simply gives up goes back doing what he usually does during his free time. Experimenting, working on his projects, reading. If particularly frustrated, he might go out and find a convenient target he can take the edge off on.

WHAT WOULD THEY IMPULSE BUY AT THE GROCERY STORE? It’s safe to say that you might never see him in a normal grocery store. He tends to buy shop in anonymous street markets or on the black market. He never buys anything he doesn’t need, but if he ever did it would probably be some kind of weapon, exotic torture device or chemical that catches his fancy.

THEIR COFFEE ORDER: Plain black. He tends to favour bitter flavours, especially when it comes to drinks.

WHAT SORT OF APPS WOULD THEY HAVE ON THEIR SMARTPHONE? All apps and programs of his own design. Mostly encrypted databases, hacking tools, tracking systems.

HOW DO THEY ACT AROUND CHILDREN? He doesn’t. As a general rule, he doesn’t engage or even just acknowledge people unless the circumstances force him to or unless  he has a good reason to. Usually children belong to the category of people who don’t offer him any. So, if a child were ever to approach him, they would be met with an impenetrable whole of cold indifference and wouldn’t be spared a single glance.

However, it’s also to be said that, when someone happens to stand in his way, he mercilessly gets rid of them without distinction of any kind, including age.

WHAT WOULD THEY WATCH ON TV WHEN THEY’RE BORED AND NOTHING THEY REALLY LIKE IS ON? Nothing. As he does with many things, if one activity isn’t enough to hold his focus / keep him entertained, he merely switches to a different one.

tagged by: Stolen ! Tagging: Feel free to steal it from me !

#[ ooc :: dash games ] #[ headcanons :: Evil Morty ] #[ headcanons :: Evil Rick ] #[[ I liked the idea of writing HCs about completely normal shit for these two xD ]] #[ ooc :: mun's headcanons ]

[bluerose5]

First Kisses: Thane Krios Edition

Thane's first kisses with his different partners...

Irikah: Totally unexpected. Their first date, and Thane didn't even go in for a hug, the fool! Awkwardly went for a goodbye handshake because there's no way this amazing woman wants more, right? She gives him this fond, exasperated look, then cups his cheek so sweetly he thinks he might melt into a puddle. She leans in, asks "may I?" He says yes (of course he does!), yet he's still stunned beyond all belief when their lips finally meet. He's a little too stiff, too formal, and distant at first. However, the second she pulls away and tells him to relax, he doesn't even hesitate when she leans in a second time.

Shepard: They're out on the Citadel while the Normandy is undergoing repairs, people-watching from the maintenance catwalks (Thane's idea). It gives John a break. No worries about being identified or watched. No weird surveillance bugs of any kind. They talk, and John gets so caught up in describing his first visit to the Citadel, eyes bright with passion. Thane doesn't know what makes him do it. He leans in without thinking and kisses him. John doesn't move at first, and Thane assumes the worst, berating himself for the momentary lapse of control. He knows better. He begins to pull away to apologize, but before he can, John grabs him by his collar and drags him back into a heated kiss. Safe to say, Thane is more than willing to comply.

Garrus: Thane has been trying out that new thing that Shepard recommended, where he ventures out to get to know the crew. They're in the Main Battery when it happens, exchanging stories to try and one up each other on their most memorable kills. When Thane's last story has a clear advantage, Garrus huffs and makes a witty joke. It catches Thane off-guard, and he starts laughing. Garrus watches him closely, but then Thane just had to go and place his hand over Garrus'. Knowing how turians are about touch, Thane clears his throat, but Garrus simply turns his hand over before he can say anything and interlocks their fingers. Garrus tugs Thane closer, but Thane doesn't resist, fixated on the turian before him. When Garrus leans his forehead against Thane's, Thane instinctively closes the distance, his lips over Garrus' mouth plates. It takes some obvious adjustments on their part, but Garrus is willing, eager even. They eventually deepen the kiss, tongues exploring each other’s mouths. When Garrus hauls Thane up to sit on the main console, legs wrapping around his waist, the interface beeps beneath Thane, but Garrus pays it no mind. So much for all of his progress on those calibrations, Thane thinks.

Kaidan: One of the rarest of rare pairs. Huerta Memorial. Thane's been keeping an eye out on Shepard’s old friend. When Kaidan eventually does wake, they're still getting a feel for one another, tentative in their approach. During long, restless nights, they get to know one another when they can't sleep. They talk about their respective times above the Normandy and what it was like to serve under Shepard. It's like the calm before a storm, finding peace in a single moment while knowing what truly awaits them beyond those walls. They start to meditate together, mixed in with a little bit of yoga and such. Kaidan's relatively new at it, so Thane has to correct him often. One time, Thane looks up after helping him correct his stance, and their eyes lock. It's undeniable how close they are, and neither one of them could rightfully say who leaned in first. Maybe it was an act of pure impulse, wanting to feel that tell-tale spark when their lips met for the first time. It didn't matter. They kissed, and it felt as if their breath was taken away, probably more literally in Thane's case. They don't know how long they stand there in each other’s arms, lips moving in tandem, until a nurse or resident barges into the rooms with the latest updates, causing the two to jump apart.

#mass effect #mass effect trilogy #thane krios #irikah krios #john shepard #garrus vakarian #kaidan alenko #thane x irikah #shrios #vakarios #alenkrios #hopefully I got those ship names right lol #this was so much longer than the first 'first kisses' post #what happened shjksryt #listen #thane deserves all the kisses he can get #feel free to think of this as poly or individual ships #whatever floats your boat

[tailorvizsla]

Hi I love your writing. Could I please request some angst with the lovely Prince Oberyn Martell? thank yoooouuuuuuuuu

Anon, I’m pretty sure you meant to send this to someone else, but I’m more than happy to give it a whirl. 🤣

Title: Mistaken Identity Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader Word Count: ~2000 Rating: R Warnings: Angst, but with a happy ending, mentions of sex and violence typical for the show (I think), no explicit content though. Author’s Notes: shrug idk man I know nothing about GoT. This may go really well or it may go really poorly.

📚 My Master List 📚

If you want to be tagged in anything, send me an ask or leave a comment!

Wind howls through the long, winding stone corridors of the ancient castle you call home. Outside, lightning flashes, briefly illuminating the wild, windswept landscape. Whispers of your Prince’s death had taken the castle by storm, occupants and servants alive working themselves into a frenzy until a blood-stained golden cloth had been brought in. It felt like a fist to the gut. Even now, your breath comes in tiny gasps, your head swimming as you struggle to stay on your feet. Now, in your narrow room, you watch as the servants begin to build the funeral pyre in the courtyard.

“Milady,” comes a soft voice from the door.

“I do not wish to be disturbed,” you say, the words thick in your mouth. “Leave.”

“Milady,” your lady’s maid insists. “Please, come away from the window. You will catch your death if you linger in this cold.”

Pursing your lips, you step back, knowing that the older woman speaks the truth. The nights have grown chilly as of late. You wonder if you will ever feel warmth again without Oberyn’s arms around you. How could this have happened?

“Milady, if it pleases you,” she says, standing next to the bed.

She keeps her head bowed, but you can see the apprehensive look on her face, as if she fears you will fly off in a fit of hysterics. Part of you wishes to fly off into hysterics, but you know that you cannot afford to do so. With Oberyn gone, there is no one left to protect you, should someone decide to begin gossiping. You need to worry about what your future will bring, but you cannot bring yourself to such selfish thoughts.

Oberyn is dead. He deserves to be mourned.

She slides the warming pan out from under the sheets as you slide in. The bed is pleasantly warm. As she draws the curtain, she dims the candles and excuses herself. When you are certain she is gone, you grab your dressing gown and sink down into the divan at the end of the bed. His tunic is still here. It looks like he had left for just a moment to attend to business elsewhere, as if he will return in just a few moments’ time.

“Oberyn,” you whisper softly, eyes filling with tears as you stroke the golden silk between your fingers. “Oberyn. How could you leave like this? Without so much as a goodbye?”

Your throat tightens and the tears stream down your face, but you stifle your sobs, lest the maid in the adjoining room hear and come investigate.

“I still remember the day we first met,” you continue softly, running your fingers along the embroidered neckline. “My brother wished to curry your favor. I did not want to come – I confess, I was terrified. I could not stop shaking, praying that you would not notice me. I thought you might eat me like a snake would.”

You had hidden yourself behind your brother, drawing up your veil to conceal your features, hoping that the Prince known as the Red Viper would ignore you. That he would not notice you cowering in terror.

“Of course, I would not be so lucky, would I?” you ask softly, smiling sadly. “You greeted my brother by name. Then you looked at me. I could feel your eyes boring into my soul, Oberyn. Like I was completely bare before you.”

You had kept your eyes downcast and focused on the stone beneath your feet. Then he stepped closer. Then his hand drifted into view. Hard, calloused fingertips pressed against your jaw, as gentle as a butterfly’s wing, tilting your head up. Still, you refused to look at him – still terrified that he would have pupils like a real snake.

“Such lovely eyes,” he remarked, and that had broken your resolve.

You looked him right in the eyes. Even now, you still feel the warmth quivering in your belly when you recall his beautiful brown eyes. They had been filed with fire, burning into your very heart. You had let your eyes admire his features – soft, curling brown hair, prominent brows, and a distinguished nose. A plump lower lip. Carefully trimmed facial hair. Yet you could not stop looking at his eyes, marveling at his warmth.

“Of course, I made a fool of myself,” you whisper, sniffling as you laugh. “Do you remember, what I said next, my prince?” You wipe your eyes. “Oh, Prince Martell, the rumors are false!”

You laugh into the neck of his tunic, catching the faintest whiff of his rapidly fading scent. You choke back a sob, curling forward around the fabric. “You asked me, ‘What rumors, little one?’ And I…I…oh, how did you not refrain from simply removing my head?”

You laugh quietly.

“My Lord, your pupils are round!” you whisper with a soft smile. He had been in utter shock for just a moment before carefully schooling away his response. Before he could respond, your brother had turned and grabbed you by the arm, his other hand rising to beat you for your insult. “But you stopped him from flogging me, Oberyn.”

He caught your brother by the arm and forced it back down, eyes flashing with fury and jaw set tightly.

“I am called the Red Viper,” you whisper softly, remembering the keen look of amusement he had shot at you. “Do not strike her for believing the tales you have likely whispered into her ear.”

Your brother had been furious with you. After the prince had left, he had caught you by the arm and squeezed so hard he left a violent, hand-shaped bruise on you. He had promised to inflict punishment for your embarrassing behavior, to ensure you could never speak so improperly to your lord again.

“Before he could hurt me, you invited me to serve your lady here in the castle,” you continue. “He could not refuse without causing offense, and so you saved me. You have saved me so many times from my own stupidity.”

There had been so, so many of those moments as well.

“You taught me to read, to write, and to defend myself,” you say. “You gave me a dagger, Oberyn. You coated it in poison and made me swear to use it only to protect myself. Without you…what will happen to the kingdom? To your family?...to me?”

Sighing, you let your shoulders sag. You had spent countless nights here with him. From that first encounter where you lay on the bed, stiff as a board, terrified that it really would hurt as much as the married women back home told you it would. Until he told you that you had no obligations to share your bed with him. That he would not force you to partake. That had brought you pause – your brother had often lectured you on what would await you on your wedding night. Drink copiously, he said, it is the only way to make it bearable that first time for a woman.

“You are the only person who listened when I said no,” you say softly, tears splashing onto the fabric, dotting the fabric with damps spots. “You were so kind to me. You were gentle. You showed me that I did not need to be afraid.”

Oberyn then sat on the edge of the bed, tunic unbuttoned to his belly button, and looked at you with those warm, sympathetic, brown eyes. Shyly, you asked him to stay and tell you stories about his time at the Citadel, about the things he had learned there. And he did. He told you about the lands he had traveled to in his youth. The duels he had won. The time spent with the mercenaries in Essos. You marveled at his stories, staring up at him in awe, until you had finally drifted off to sleep in that soft, warm space in his arms.

For a week, he came back every night to hold you and tell you stories.

Then, one afternoon, you happened upon him training with one of his men. You had hidden yourself in the shadows to watch him, stunned into silence as he spun, parried, dodged, and blocked with ease. He moved with such deadly grace, lunging once to claim victory over his opponent.

The uncomfortable throb in your belly lingered until that night, where you shyly confessed to spying on him. He had given you such a mischief-filled smirk, whispering “I know” as his fingers slipped under your skirt.

This time, you encouraged him to continue, biting your lip at the memory of his fine, muscular body as his fingers found your intimacy. He had kissed you, touched you, made you feel like you were floating in the sky like the clouds. Oberyn showed you the most exquisite pleasure at his hand. You had never known such fire, such passion. That was not all he taught you.

“You taught me to stand up for myself. To protect myself when you were not here. How would my family react if they knew I would gut them for touching me?” you ask, hand falling to the sheath on your thigh. “How would they react if they knew I could read, write, and provide for myself?”

Sighing, you press your hand into your face. So many people had tried to take advantage of you, and he had protected you each time. Slowly, surely, you had learned the games played at court, and you adapted.

“Oh, my prince,” you whisper sadly. “Now you are gone, and it feels as if my soul has shattered. Will this ache ever end? Will I ever be whole again without you here?”

Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, you press your face into his tunic again, shoulders shaking as you finally break down and sob. You are only vaguely aware of the door opening and footsteps. A warm hand falls to your shoulder. Pure anger fills you at the thought of the maid touching you. You shove the hand off and jump to your feet, ready to snap at the girl. You come to a half upon seeing those familiar brown eyes.

“O-Oberyn?” you whisper. He grins. You sink down onto the divan, your face draining of its blood as he comes a step closer. He reaches out and presses his fingers to your cheek. He tilts your face up and leans in for a kiss. You stay there, staring up at him.

“I thought – I thought you we-were dead,” you stammer out, shaking your head.

“They neglected to mention which lord was dead,” he says. The impish grin on his face fades away at the expression on your face. “Oh, my sweet – you truly thought I was dead, didn’t you?”

Mutely, you nod, and then the overwhelming relief spills out. You begin to sob into the tunic in your hands. Oberyn joins you on the divan and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He smells like sweat and the road, as if he had ridden nonstop to get back home.

“Oh, my sweet, I am here,” he whispers into your hair. “I will not leave you that easily. I am here. Do not cry. It was someone else who perished.”

That does not help you in the least bit. The sobs grow louder, much to your mortification, as you grab great big handfuls of his robes, holding him tight. Oberyn holds you closer, hand massaging your back, as soft noises escape him. It takes a long time before your sobs die down, but he holds you the entire time, never once letting you go.

“Dry your tears,” he soothes. “Do not weep for me.”

He reaches up and brushes one of your tears away with his thumb.

“There we are,” he says. “Let me see that beautiful smile.”

You smile for him. He leans in and presses his lips to yours. You close your eyes, sighing with pleasure as he deepens the kiss, teeth grazing your lower lip. A whimper escapes you as his hand finds your breast. He kneads gently, pinching your areola lightly. When you gasp, his tongue flicks out against yours, his free hand curling around the back of your neck. Before you can gather your thoughts, he pulls away.

“I am going to bathe,” he says. “I will return shortly, my sweet.”

You sulk as he smirks at you.

“Surely you can last?” he asks. “Or would you like to join me in the bath?”

Oh.

“I will join you,” you say, getting to your feet.

Oberyn grins and laughs at you, offering his hand. You take it and let him lead you out of the bedroom, the thoughts of a hot bath soothing away the anxiety and fear that had been plaguing you all day.

-

-

-

Tags:

@hdlynn @princessbatears @oloreaa @phoenixhalliwell @reader-without-a-story @nelba @aeryntheofficial @trippedmetaldetector @jedi-mando @marthastewart89 @razzlefrazzum @paintballkid711 @hayley-the-comet @prxtty-big-simp @aesnawan @leias-left-hair-bun @shadylightbearherring @calamity-queen @pedroepascal @dinsdjarinwp

#game of thrones #prince martell x reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #sad at first but then it's happy #y'all i have never seen a single episode of GoT #what i know about this series is limited to about three gif sets i have reblogged #but he's cute #he's v cute #i could def see myself wearing that yellow shirt thing

[flatstarcarcosa]

favors and heists

notes: i gave myself brain worms while roping @dadbodsandbots into my mass effect insert shenanigans by using her mans so I had to shake some of them loose. this turned out to be kinda fun, actually, for a change :3

also tags @jackals-ships while making pspspsps noises

summary: what's the point of your best friend dating a galaxy-renown mercenary if not for the favors you can squeeze out of the deal?

or

zaeed takes a charity case.

ship(s): stubborn goddamn jackasses, cat/digs (boomcat? harcat?)

******

The door alarm has been chiming for four minutes. Pressing the override button on his omni-tool shuts it off for a few scarce seconds, only for whoever is outside to activate it again. Finally, Zaeed gives up on ignoring it and wrenches the damn thing open manually. The metal squeals in protest before the hydraulics correct themselves.

"The hell do you want?" he asks, frowning. Cat stands in the door way with barely contained tears in her eyes.

"My final thesis is due next week and the whole argument hinges on this 18th century painting and-"

"Dooooon't care," Zaeed drawls as he goes to manually pull the door shut again. She lunges forward, getting a shoulder and half a leg across before the safety catch feels an obstruction and stops.

"-and it got stolen and if I have to report it to my boss I'm not only gonna fail the program but I'll never work in this industry again!" she blurts. Zaeed has already turned his back towards her and is cussing at his omni-tool's refusal to force the door shut.

"Don't caaaaaaaaare," he says.

"You gotta help me get it back!" she cries, "That fucking asshole Harkness stole it and if he gets too far I'll never see it again!"

Zaeed stops, shoulders sagging. He holds up a finger and turns.

"When you say Harkness-"

"Yeah, Digger," Cat sniffs. "You know, Captain Boom-"

"Will willingly shoot my other eye out before I call him that, thanks," says Zaeed. He goes silent for a moment, and then lets out a frustrated growl and runs a hand over his face. "All right, fine. But only because I've still got a grudge against that jackass I've been meaning to settle."

She looks up, elation flashing across her face.

"Really?! I mean, I can hire you, too, so-"

Zaeed snorts.

"You don't make near enough to hire me," he says. "Especially not if you want him alive, although honestly, that part isn't up to you." He steps out of sight into the other room, and Cat wanders into the kitchen to blow her nose on a wad of paper towels.

"Where was he last?" Zaeed asks.

"I mean, my office," she calls back. He steps back around the corner, the top half of his armor undersuit hanging around his waist.

"I meant where was he before he stole the painting?"

"Oh!" she pauses. "I...dunno, some hotel down on Silversun."

Zaeed hums, and pulls his arm through the sleeve on his suit. He drags a footlocker over to the sofa and plops down, bending over to unlock the lid.

"How'd Harkness get into your office, anyway?" he asks. "It's not exactly publicly accessible."

"Uh- I...I don't know," she stammers, "he's a thief, that's what he does!"

Zaeed quirks an eyebrow at her as he laces his boots.

"Uh-huh," he says. "And he just happened to have decided to specifically case your office for one painting..."

"Yeah."

"Your office, which is in a moderately secured area in the Citadel Tower," he continues. He raises an eyebrow at her. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

"Yeah," she says again, voice tight. "Why?"

"No reason," he says. Motorized armor joints lock into place with mechanical whirring, and she watches him strap a pistol and a sniper rifle in place. "Here's the thing, if he's already jumped ship and left the Citadel, I'm not chasing him all over. This lasts until I decide the amusement isn't worth the lack of money. Matter of fact, you knowing Reese is the only reason I didn't tell you to fuck off and throw you out."

"A fact which I am heavily aware of," says Cat.

"Long as we're on the same page," says Zaeed. "Might as well wait here, I doubt this is gonna take too long."

"Hey," says Cat, "wait a second. How do you know him, anyway?"

Zaeed clicks his tongue.

"Got unlucky enough to be on a job with him once," he says. "Stupid little fuck nearly got me killed. Spent four weeks healing from that."

"Oh," she says.

"Granted, wasn't the same as getting half my face blown off," he adds, "but it was still enough that I've had it in for him ever since."

"You're not actually going to kill him, are you?" she asks. Zaeed shrugs as the door slides open.

"That depends on him, love," he says.

"Oh," she says. Before she can get another word out, Zaeed steps into the hall and leaves her alone. She sighs and sits down on the sofa. "Well, that's just fucking great."

******

It takes less than five hours to track Harkness down. After checking out of his hotel earlier that morning, he'd stuck around the Silversun Strip rather than booking a flight off the Citadel.

For some reason that Zaeed can only chock up to the man being an absolute fucking idiot, he didn't consider that wandering around with a medium sized painting under his arm was going to make him stick out to the residents.

Only on the Silversun Strip would one get away with that without C-Sec getting called and dropping down on your ass. Try it up on the Presidium and every rich asshole with a penthouse would be ringing the emergency numbers for 'suspicious activity' while triple locking their doors.

Tucked away in a back alley and away from the main attractions of the Strip is a little pawn shop run by, who Zaeed assumes, are the only Batarians to have a permanent residence on the Citadel. There's an old fashioned bell hanging above the door and it jingles when he walks through. It catches his attention for a moment, and he glances up at it, wondering where the aliens picked up that detail about human stores.

Behind the sales counter, a bored looking Batarian is standing with his arms crossed over his chest and glowering with all four eyes at the man in front of him.

"Come on mate," says the Australian. He's leaning over the painting, so focused on his attempts at hocking it that he either didn't hear the door bell, or isn't interested enough to turn around. Zaeed catches the gaze of the sales clerk, and holds a finger to his lips.

"I said no," the Batarian growls, looking back at the would-be customer.

"All right, fine, screw giving me what it's worth," the man continues, "we'll settle for 60% and then I can be on me way."

"You think I'm so stupid or naive I don't know stolen merch when I see it?" asks the Batarian. "I know enough about you humans and your squabbles to know there's no amount of credits worth getting involved in this kinda shit.

"Harkness, why don't you do something useful and stop pestering this poor Batarian?" Zaeed asks, interjecting only when he's close enough to Digger Harkness that the sound of his voice makes the man jump. "Bad enough the poor bastard has to walk around looking like that every day of his life, he doesn't need you coming in here and cocking everything up for him."

The Batarian sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Is it asshole human day today and no one told me?" he asks. "Oh wait, I suppose that's every day, isn't it?"

"Goddamn right it is," Zaeed says. Harkness turns around, nervousness clear on his face.

"Zaeed," he says, slowly, "well, I'll be...funny running into you out here, eh?" He reaches behind himself, fumbling his hand across the counter as he searches blindly for the painting. Zaeed is faster, and snatches it out from under him.

"Lets go," he says, gesturing towards the door. "You know why I'm here."

"Aw, c'mon-" Harkness' protest is cut short by Zaeed grabbing his wrists and slapping a pair of electrified cuffs on them. He shoves the man forward, and then tosses a credit chit down onto the counter.

"You see a couple of human males today?" he asks the Batarian. The alien grunts, considering him for a moment before reaching down and snapping up the chit.

"Been a slow day, I haven't seen anybody," he says, shrugging. Zaeed nods.

"Good man," he says. He shoves Harkness towards the door again. "Get moving."

The bell above the door rings as the two leave, and Harkness turns, walking backwards with his arms locked in front of him as he addresses Zaeed.

"Well, I'm simply stumped," he says, "can't for the life o' me figure who I pissed off enough to hire you." Zaeed says nothing, and simply motions with his pistol for him to keep walking.

Harkness faces foward and catches sight of the skycar parked at the end of the alley. It's not the best area to try and make a mad dash for freedom, but that doesn't mean he's not gonna give it a go.

"How'd you even get into the Citadel Tower to get a hold of something like this, anyway?" Zaeed asks, holding the painting up to get a good look at it. He's never understood fuck all about art and it's not one of those especially famous pieces that he'd even recognize anyway, so he doesn't bother theorizing on why it's so important to Cat's thesis.

"Oh, you know," says Harkness, "made a friend."

"Find that hard to believe," Zaeed drawls as he tucks the painting back under his arm.

"Oi, I'm quite suave when I want to be!" Harkness stops walking again, turning with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Though, some people are just easier to woo."

"Yeah, that sounds more like you, doesn't it?" Zaeed narrows his eyes. "Making a mark out of some poor girl that always sees the best in people."

Harkness blinks.

"Hang on," he breathes, "how do you know that? Don't tell me she's the one that hired you!"

"Course not," Zaeed snorts, "like I told her, she can't afford to hire me. This is a favor for a friend."

"Well shit mate! In that case, why don't you an' I work out a deal, yeah?" The grin is back, and Zaeed makes a point of ignoring him as he opens the skycar door and lays the painting in the back seat. "You ain't on an official contract, I see no reason why you an' I as two consummate professionals can't come to some sort of arrangement that benefits us both!"

"There's an exhaustive list of reasons why that won't be happening," Zaeed says, crossing his arms. "At the top of which is simply the fact that I can't goddamn stand you."

"Fair enough," says Harkness, "But Zaeed, come on, mate! As it happens right now, you're not making any money on this! That's a problem for you, and I can fix that real easy. You just slip these bracelets off me, let me be on my merry way, and recoup credits for your time. Anyone asks, I was too slippery to get a hold of, we all move on."

"No," Zaeed says. "Get in the goddamn car before I knock you out and shove you in the trunk."

Harkness groans, and bounces on the balls of his feet in frustration.

"Come on," he says again, "we both know at the end of the day lining your pockets is the only thing you really care about, so why don't you-"

Zaeed lunges faster than a half blind old merc has any right to move, and Harkness lets out a strangled yell as he punches him in the kidney with enough force to knock the wind out of him. He's wheezing as Zaeed shoves him into the alley wall, hanging onto him by the collar of his coat and lifting him off the ground.

"Listen to me, you stupid fucking jackass," Zaeed growls, "I'm not remotely young enough or stupid enough to not know exactly how you got access to Cat's office. That girl is the only person Reese knows that isn't a killer or a junkie or some fucked up combination of both, and the last thing she needs is to be caught up with likes of you and I."

Harkness says nothing as he gasps again, and waits on his lungs to remember how to take in air.

"I care about her well-being for my own selfish reasons because of her proximity to Reese, and I recognize that doesn't put me in a position of dictating to her who she spends her time with," Zaeed continues, "but so help me, you cause so much as a minor inconvenience for her and I will carve out your goddamn eyes, sew your mouth shut and sell you to Batarians as discounted slave labor, are we goddamn clear?"

Harkness manages half of a choked, garbled word and gets his head bounced off the wall for his effort.

"That didn't sound like a yes to me," Zaeed growls.

"Y-yes," he says. Zaeed slams him against the wall once more for good measure before dropping him.

"Get in the goddamn car."

******

The rental apartment Reese and Zaeed have been staying in isn't much to come home to. Far from the worst place they've ever holed up, sure, but that's never been a very high bar to begin with.

Regardless, as he pushes Harkness through the doorway and pauses long enough to set the painting down on an end table, he does reflect on the warm lightning in the corners and the smell of a beef roast being pulled out of the oven.

It's temporary and it's barely big enough for the two of them to move without tripping over each other, but it is home.

"You found it!" Cat appears in the archway to the kitchen, and Reese looks up over the counter. Their eyes glance between Zaeed and Harkness and the painting, and they quirk an eyebrow in his direction. Zaeed responds with a subtle shake of his head.

Later, he mouths, reaching up to undo the clasps on his armor.

"Wasn't too much trouble," he says aloud. "Helps when you're being sent after a goddamn moron. I should take more offers like this, actually."

"Caaaaaat," Harkness purrs. He goes to hold out his arms, and stops when he meets the resistance from the cuffs. She bypasses him entirely to scoop up the painting and make sure it hasn't been damaged.

"You know, on a hunch I looked into something on the way to the Strip," Zaeed says casually. "C-Sec has multiple active bounties on him at the moment. Cashing in on just one of them would likely pay more than, well...whatever it is you even do currently."

Harkness lets out a nervous laugh and looks between Zaeed and Cat. She sets the painting down and regards him for a moment.

"Right now I'm more worried with getting this back before anyone notices it was gone," she says, causing Harkness to puff up slightly. He winks at Zaeed, only to stop at the look the other man sends his way. "It's unlucky for me the building is locked down for the day, though..."

"Sounds to me like you could use someone who knows his way 'round security systems," Harkness offers. Zaeed snorts, and Cat frowns. Silence stretches out for a moment, broken only by the sound of Reese turning on an electric carving knife.

"Okay, fine," Cat says when they've turned the knife back off. "But know that if we get caught, I'm telling them you kidnapped me and I can cry on command."

"Well now you're just talkin' dirty to me," Harkness says.

"Really?" Reese barks from the kitchen. "Some of us still gotta eat tonight."

Zaeed remains silent and utterly unreadable as he taps at his omni-tool. The handcuffs beep a few times before popping open and falling off. Harkness massages at one of his wrists, and manages to ignore the bait when Zaeed shoves into him on the way to the kitchen.

"If we leave now we should make it in and out without too much trouble," Cat says. Reese offers a wave.

"Call me when you get in," they say, "mostly so I know if anyone's gotta kill him later."

"Sure!" says Cat. She tucks the painting safely under an arm, and drags Harkness out into the hall by the collar of his coat. The door beeps as the automatic lock powers on, and Reese turns to lean against the kitchen counter.

"What?" Zaeed asks, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of beer.

"Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not."

Reese rolls their eyes and turns their attention back to the roast. "I leave for 20 minutes to get fucking dinner, and I swear to Christ..." they say, trailing off when Zaeed reaches around and snags a slice of beef.

"You do realize she's got absolutely horrid taste in men, right?" he asks. The top of the beer bottle pops with a resounding hssss, and he flicks it across the kitchen into the garbage can.

"Yeah, well, that's just something we got in common, I guess," Reese says.

"Oi," Zaeed protests. He takes a swallow of beer and reaches for another slice of meat, then stops. "Hang on, she can cry on command?"

"Yeah, fucking wild actually," says Reese. They frown. "Why?"

Zaeed is silent for a moment as he takes another sip of beer before answering.

"Goddammit."

#reese.fic #ship: stubborn goddamn jackasses #others: boomcat

[sword-brainrot]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well, if you’re willing I’d like to request a match-up, I’d rather not be matched up with any Tantous or Wakizashi or like any child-coded characters, thanks. Hi I’m Ghost, I go by they/them, my personality and actions are often at odds with each other. Because my personality is very quiet and reserved but a lot of the times I do a lot of outlandish things because it’s simply do not feel shame from them. I think it’s mostly due to how acting helped me with not caring what others think and just going for it. I’m very passionate for the art I create whether it be drawing, acting, or writing. That being said I’m very insecure of myself yet a lot of people tell me that I seem very confident and sure of myself. I’m more loud and affectionate with those I’m close with. I love dating sims, good stories, good food, my friends, acting, video games, anime, table top role playing games, and just consuming and creating stories! Thank you! As for what I look for in a romantic partner, I want someone who’s similar to me in personality but yearns for romantic companionship like me since I’m pretty lonely, I just want the two of us to empathize with each other and know that we’re not alone.

I Match You With...

🌸 Daihannya Nagamitsu 🌸

♡  Daihannya is very similar to you! He seems like a very proper gentleman when you first meet him but as you get to know him, he is very teasing and chaotic even. Daihannya would love getting to know you and seeing the many different sides of you. He would find you so interesting and would love to try to match your excited energy with hobbies that get you really happy.

♡  He admires your outlook on how you express yourself. He may look very fancy but he dresses like this because it makes /him/ happy, not because what others think. Meeting someone who also has the same outlook with instantly catch his eye.

♡  Daihannya is an artist as well. He loves to talk about art, make it, and look at other’s pieces. When he finds out you love it just as much as he does, he does not leave you alone. He will talk your ear off about it and want to see the art pieces you have made and really enjoy. 

♡  Would love to play art related games with you or paint you a portrait if you are willing to sit still for him. 

♡  Acting is another hobby that Daihannya really enjoys! He isn’t as skilled at it as painting but he really enjoys the process of getting your role, memorizing your lines, and acting on the stage with the cast.

♡  You know he is going to try to put together a play once he finds out more people enjoy acting. Might even get more swords in the citadel to try it out and find out they love it as well!

♡  His dream would be your love interest in a play. He doesn’t care what his role is, he wants to express his love even on stage. 

♡  Daihannya would tease you from time to time. It’s all in good fun and would never want to upset you. If it does, please let him know. He would shower you in affection and gifts as an apology. He simply wants to see you a little flustered since you are the cutest in his eyes when you are a little embarrassed for only him to see. 

♡   “Ah... I might forget my way back home during this mission... Perhaps a kiss before I go will remind me how to come back~”

♡  If you shower him in affection (any type), he will feel like he ascended to the heavens. He would be the happiest man alive. Even the smallest gesture of fixing his tie would have him smiling from ear to ear and getting the urge to kiss you right then and there.

♡  He is very open about who he likes and will show the whole world if he must!

♡  When you introduce dating sims to him, he is very interested and would be seated next to you as he watches. At first saying little things of, “Oh~? is this the type of man you’re into, Ghost?” to getting really invested in the story and perhaps a little worked up if the love interest has a very sad love story. “He doesn’t deserve that... Why was the world so cruel to such a sweet man?”

♡  It’s very cute to see. He might ask to borrow some of your games just so he can experience it for himself. Perhaps having a little date night where the two of you play some together!

♡  Any hobby you want to try with him, he will for sure give it a go at least once! Daihannya isn’t that good at cooking though... So don’t be surprised if the food doesn’t come out how it normally does-

♡  He can cut and make tea though!

♡  Daihannya would make sure your everyday is filled with love and you never doubt how much he cherishes you. Daihannya has a lot of love for the world around him and especially now since he can share this world beside you. 

Top Three Picks: Daihannya Nagamitsu, Kokindenjunotachi, Samidare Gou

#Matchups #Touken Ranbu #Touken Danshi #Tourabu #Touken Ranbu Headcanons #Touken Ranbu Imagines #Touken Ranbu x Reader #TKRB #TKRB Headcanons #TKRB Imagines #TKRB x Reader #Daihannya Nagamitsu #Daihannya Nagamitsu x Reader

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen: What's In Your Head

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite.

FemShepxKaidan

"So, I'm in the presence of the Commander Shepard?"

She snorted, politely forcing her eyes away from the beer he set on the side table. Focusing her sights out the large picture window, it was a nice day, so she had the glass door open onto the balcony. Roy already headed in that direction, leaning over the balcony.

"Nice view for a brig!"

"I'm not-," she huffed, of course, he was teasing, "it feels almost like the brig."

"But it's Captain Shepard now," her eyes rolled, "I suppose I should reintroduce myself. My name is Mary."

The name still felt thick in her mouth, she struggled to allow it to belong to her.

"Jane wasn't much better," Roy grumbled, looking over his shoulder and at the table, "you're still Recruit to me. Grab us a beer, and get out here."

"Aye, Aye Sir."

Mary slid beside him, taking in the view of the city under them. Her gaze found what she thought would be the direction of the Alenko residence. They drank quietly for several minutes, enjoying the silence.

"Am I getting that lecture now?"

The man snorted, "no, because I am one of those assholes that hoped you would come out of this alive. As Jane, as Mary."

It was Mary's turn to snort, "I was such an ass."

"A little," he let time drag out between his words, finishing half his beer in that time, "how did you manage to return to the Alliance after going MIA and walk out with two promotions?"

She grinned, elbowing the man, "you fucking- apparently commendable duty during a time of distress. I don't completely understand how they- I suppose." Her tone flipped, her head falling.

"Kid," it was like being called by her middle name, his shoulders drew, "you had problems, but everyone did. Everyone lost someone. The difference was when it mattered; you were there—doing what had to be done. Hell, I don't know why anyone looked up to me like I knew anything. Sure, some old Alliance training kicked in- but I was way in above my head. Setting up patrols, security, duty rosters- that wasn't me, that was you."

"I remember things differently."

Roy sighed before a half-laugh tumbled from his lips, "it all came that easy to you? I may have been the friendly face, but they knew you were the one running the show. Remember when that damn krogan attacked? Korvac didn't even bother with me, Wrex either. I was a useless old man," he flicked away her attempt to soothe him, "that's why everyone vouched for you."

Mary blushed, chugging down the rest of her beer, "I knew you had something to do with it."

"I really liked that Bailey guy," his amber eyes pointed at her until she met his gaze, "I would have liked to hear firsthand how you singlehandedly brought down the Illusive Man and restored the Citadel."

"That, that- that had hardly anything to do with me. I didn't know who he was, and he just attacked me. I just happened to throw him over a ledge and incapacitated him," Mary broke eye contact, staring at the empty bottle she rolled around in her hands, "the Keeper did most of the work. If you've heard anything honest about me- you'd know I'm shit with the technical side of things. I simply placed the spike."

"After jumping through the beam blind."

She shrugged, letting him grab the next round.

"Saving the Galaxy might have been a small part of it too."

Roy toasted to that.

"I owe you an apology for not coming clean. I should have, I just- I wasn't," Mary faltered again, her voice wavering, "it was wrong. Everything I was going through-"

He placed a hand on her shoulder, "I don't need an explanation. Or to hear why you acted the way you did. It's okay; you did what you could at the moment."

"What I could wasn't enough."

"How so?" he grasped that this wasn't about her time on Earth, not entirely.

She gestured out to the scarred city below them, luckily liquid did not spill from the bottle, "I should have made them listen better."

"You alone could force an entire Galaxy to listen to one person?"

Mary grunted, "but I could have saved more people. I'm sure you heard about the Alpha Relay mess. 304,942 Batarians. Thing is, I-"

"You what?"

"Part of me doesn't feel that sorry, watching those bastards kill my parents. My friends, everyone I knew- I," she shuddered, attempting to pull away from him, but he brought her in tighter, "did I not try hard enough because of my history?"

"That would be difficult for anyone," Roy kept his tone even, "but did you originally course the asteroid for the Relay? If you had not been there, would the same thing have happened? Worse, the Reapers would have gotten here earlier."

Mary was seeking condemnation. Hearing everything spat back at her with utter acceptance and truth was frustrating, almost patronizing at this point, "So I'm just freed from consequence? Because of some moral loophole? Letting morals get in the way of alliances and troops was worth it? Of allowing my love for the Krogan to be a wedge between the Salarians joining the war effort? It was all at the price of a simple lie. My distaste for Cereberus could have waited- I could have swallowed my pain, and maybe he wouldn't have gone looking for Reapers to give him answers.

It's all fucked, and I thought I was doing the right thing. But is sometimes doing the right thing, wrong? Like a friend said, 'Stand in the ashes of a trillion souls, and ask them if honor matters. The silence is your answer.' I could have saved more people. I should have swallowed my pride and done the smart thing!"

"You ever think the galaxy put too much of a burden on one person? You put too much of the burden on one person," Roy held her out at arm's length, trying to catch her eyes even if she would avoid it, "you learned an important lesson in all of this. Even the right actions have consequences. It won't make you feel better, but it's something to remember."

Mary sighed, deflating, "you're annoying."

She needed time to digest that, time to talk it out further.

"Right back at you, Recruit. You know how many of your friends I have been fighting off?"

"Can't be worse than the press, I'm glad they have me on lockdown." Her smile returned. Her messages must be going crazy, but she had to take reentry slowly. The constant evals and talking to counselors was enough to drive anyone mad. It was helpful but maddening. Mary couldn't deny she needed it to work out the guilt, disassociation, and convergence of indoctrination playing on her grasp of reality and the past.

It was more than she could handle when she was forced to take visits from councilors, delegates, and top military brass. Hackett could only stop so much. He wore out most of his favors during the war.

Her first interview, done after immense political and public pressure, had left her reeling for days.

"Tell them," her crew, her family, "I'm sorry. I just- I need more time."

With all her heart, Mary wanted nothing more but a happy reunion. To hug, dance, and cry with every single one of them. But seeing them all at once would be far too much to handle, and she didn't have the space to let herself ruminate (with guilt) over who she would allow back in first. With the flurry of her emotions so unpredictable, she had to wait. It tugged at her but it was for the best. Mary had to be selfish.

"I can pass that along," Roy smiled softly, finishing his second beer, "thanks for letting me visit. At least, I'm waiting patiently for the day you can be back with us. Evelyn, not so much."

"And Kaidan?"

"He's a little hurt. But hopeful."

Mary flinched, pulling her eyes closed tight, "if anything deserves you getting mad at me..."

"It's a cliche line, but loves makes us crazy."

"Tell him- I'm sorry too. That I'm working on it," she drew in her bottom lip, "feels stupid to say if this doesn't work out."

"He knows."

#shenko #fshenko #kaidan alenko #mass effect fancition #take me home

[aricazorel]

12 from the fluffy prompts for f!shenko please!

Thank you so much for the ask!

“This reminded me of you.” from this list

Rebecca Shepard x Kaidan Alenko; ME3, Citadel DLC; 1548 words

Spending the first few days of mandatory shore leave chasing your own clone and recovering your stolen ship was not how Rebecca Shepard had envisioned the time off. She hadn’t expected Anderson to give her his apartment either, but she wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead she decided to spend the time as ordered: off duty while she caught up with friends, took it easy, and spent quality time with Kaidan. Granted her shore leaves had always been hit or miss on whether other people enjoyed them with her but Kaidan was different. She knew him. Really knew him and thought she might be able to find things they both enjoyed doing.

That’s why she stopped into a random store in one of the lower wards market districts. It screamed Kaidan Alenko. The ward itself was home to a mixture of races and was a prime area for tourists to frequent. And that was what she was at the moment. Not the Commander, not the Savior of the Citadel, not the galaxy’s beacon of hope against the impossible. Just a tourist looking for a gift for her nerdy boyfriend and did that shop fit the bill. Thankful she actually listened to his random facts at all hours of the day and night, she was sure to find something he liked.

The whole concept of the store was based on interesting and unique things from Earth’s past. As one of the newer species on the galactic scene, humanity was still a curiosity to some. The oddities of Earth’s pop culture from past centuries permeated the shelves, racks, and display spaces in the specialty shop.

Shepard roamed the aisles looking for a specific pop culture icon from the late 20th-early 21st centuries. Surely they had something related to his nerdy obsession. After all he had been through and all he did for her, he deserved something familiar, something comforting, something distinctly Kaidan.

Finally at the very back of the store, she found it. All sorts of items: tee shirts, hats, figures, plushies, OSDs with movies and TV series, models, and much more. But one thing in particular caught her attention. A box containing what looked to be a collection of several items. Ones she knew Kaidan would love.

Her target acquired, the Commander- turned- tourist quickly paid for it and made her way back to the apartment. If she were lucky, Kaidan would still be out with Cortez, Vega, and Joker at the arcade. She could wrap it and surprise him.

Hopefully…

~~~~~

“Hey, Becca! I’m back,” Kaidan’s voice called from the living room.

“I’m in here,” she shouted from the bar area. The large box sat on the coffee table in front of her as The Battlespace played on the large vid screen but muted.

The Major rounded the wall partition as he commented, “Joker still wants to have that party. Tried all evening to get Steve, Vega, and me to convince you to agree to it.”

“I told him I’d think about it,” Rebecca groaned from the couch.

“Yeah, well you know Joker. He gets an idea and won’t let go until he gets his way,” Alenko replied as he came to stand by the couch, the artificial fire crackling behind him.

“Yeah. I know but all I want to do right now is spend time with you,” she said tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “Alone.”

“I’m all yours tonight, Becca,” he assured her as his whiskey-colored eyes flickered to the coffee table. “I promise.”

Shepard grinned. “Something catch your eye, Major?”

“You always have my eye, Shep,” he said with a lop-sided grin.

“You’ve gotten better with your flirting,” she noted as he approached the table.

“Who said I was flirting? I thought I was simply stating a fact,” Alenko commented, winking at her.

“Kaidan,” the Commander murmured as she felt herself blush lightly.

“It’s true,” the L2 biotic said as he pointed to the box. “But what it that?”

“It’s a box.”

“Becca.”

“It’s a wrapped box.”

“Shepard.”

“It’s a wrapped box with something allegedly inside it.”

“Rebecca Jane Shepard!”

The Commander laughed as she held up her hands as if in surrender. “Okay! Okay! No reason to sound like my dad.”

Kaidan made a face. “Don’t ever say that again. That’s just…weird.”

Rebecca laughed again as she motioned towards the box. “It’s for you.”

“Me?” the Major asked in surprise. “From who?”

She frowned as she replied indignantly, “Me, Alenko. Unless you have other women gifting you things behind my back.”

“Hell, no,” the second human Specter exclaimed as he reached for the box.

“No guys either?” she teased as he sat down on the couch beside her.

With the box in his lap, he gave her an incredulous look. “Sweetheart, while I do like both men and women, I only love you.”

Shepard was left speechless by his honesty as he quickly kissed her cheek. He gave her a grin and began to unwrap the box. Her once emotionally reserved Lt. was not so any longer, and it suited him. It suited him very well.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“You always say that, and you know I’m gonna do it anyway.”

“Yeah, well I still think you don’t have to…”

The Commander grinned as he went silent. His fingers traced over the edges of the box as his eyes flickered from one image to another on the side facing him. She leaned forward to look at him better. His expression was one of surprise and something she couldn’t place.

“I found it at an Earth novelty shop in one of the wards,” she said softly.

Kaidan nodded as she continued to look over the box.

“This,” Rebecca said motioning to the focus of his attention, “reminded me of you.”

“I had some like these when I was a kid,” Kaidan murmured as he opened the box. “My mom found them somewhere. Used to put them together to distract me from my biotics when I got frustrated with them.”

Shepard smiled as he pulled out several smaller boxes, each of a different model kit. She watched as his smile widened as he told her the name of each ship the model was supposed to build. A look of fondness for a childhood memory on his handsome features the entire time.

“This one’s an X-wing—Red 5. Luke’s ship…This is the Millennium Falcon—a YT-1300…Ummm, this is a TIE Fighter and a…TIE Advanced—Vader’s I think…A Star Destroyer—Venator class used during the Clone Wars and a…Oh wow! It’s the Ebon Hawk!”

Shepard recognized all the ships except the last one from binge watching the Star Wars movies and series with him in the hospital. “Come again?”

He turned to her excitedly. “It’s the ship from a couple of Star Wars video games. I had an emulator for them growing up. I might still have it…”

“So it’s a good thing?”

He nodded with a broad grin. “It was a fun couple of games. I can show them to you some time but…”

“But what?”

“Well, my mom used to say the pilot of the ship sounded a little like me,” he said rubbing the back of his neck, clearly a little embarrassed. “It might be weird.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s just one more thing that can remind me of you. You are weird in a special kind of way.”

Kaidan gazed at her happily. “This mean a lot to me, Becca. Just like you do. Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” she said looping an arm though his.

He went back to inspecting the model kits as she laid her head against his shoulder.

“You know,” she began, “when you get those put together I think there might be enough room to display them in the case in the loft.”

He turned to her. “You’d put my model kits from Star Wars with your models of real ships?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Umm, because they’re not—”

“Not what, Kaidan?” she asked. “They are important to you and you are important to me.”

He looked at her with cynically. “While that does sound sweet and sincere, is that really the only reason?”

“Well, of course it is,” she replied. Shepard paused and winced. “Welllll, that and I think most of them look badass…except for the TIE. It looks like a messed-up eyeball.”

Alenko laughed. “Oddly enough that was a nickname the Rebels and New Republic pilots gave them. The TIE/LN starfighter and the TIE/D Defender specifically. I—”

“Alright, my handsome nerd, I get you are excited and I’m glad you like them, but I thought we were spending the night together. Alone. Do I need to be jealous of the model kits?”

“No, Becca. I’m all yours,” he said setting them aside as he leaned over. Kissing her, he suggested, “We could watch the movies though.”

“Hmmmm,” she said. “We could as long as it isn’t too distracting.”

“If you want my full attention all you ever have to do it ask.”

“I know. And I love you. You and all of your nerdiness too.”

“Oh good. I was worried…”

“Kaidan.”

“I love you too.”

She smiled. Rebecca would always love him. Everything about him. Everything.  

#fluff prompts #Mass Effect #f!shenko #Kaidan Alenko #femshep

[chocobroness]

Pack

Don’t ask how this came to be. I started and the words flowed out.

(For setting: let’s say Regis found a way to break the prophecy when Noctis was 12. Thanks to some planning, he managed to bring Lunafreya to Lucis soon after.  Ravus, who faught and lost his arm assisting Regis get his sister out of imperial hands, vanished after the battle.  Noctis was still injured as a result of being the chosen king. Regis and everyone else became overprotective of him, so he didn't meet Prompto until senior year of high school, which caused Prompto to revert back to being quiet and shy. and by then, Noctis wanted nothing to do with his dad or the rest of the citadel.)

enjoy!

---

Ravus is like a Coeurl.

And a Coeurl is a hunter, an alpha one might say.

A Coeurl defends its territory with life and limb, at it’s strongest and at it’s weakest, its last breath one of defiance and strength.

It’s pack and territory are important. And it gains strength in order to protect them.

Ravus is a Coeurl with a broken pack and stolen territory.

A Coeurl with a broken pack and stolen territory will step back and adjust to their lost swiftly before stepping forward once more.

A Coeurl does not show weakness.

Even in its injured state.

Even in the face of death.

Even when it must harm their broken pack and territory to further protect them. But most people forget that, despite all of this, Coeurls were still felines. It’s distance did not translate to chosen isolation.

It’s growls and bearing of teeth did not always belay anger and warning. The spark of destructive magic through their whiskers does not always mean death to unknowns.

A Coeurl communicates in such actions for their pack’s safety.

It is content if the pack, though distant, is fine.

But when the pack takes their ways of communicating as a threat and demand for isolation and silence, a Coeurl may become confused.

Perhaps hurt.

But a Coeurl, who is confused and hurt will never stop protecting pack and territory.

Ravus is like a Coeurl. ... ...Ravus has been very lonely. —- Noctis is like a kitten.

Not a grown cat, but a young kitten.

A kitten enjoys sleeping beneath the sun’s gentle and warm rays.

A kitten is pleased to hunt for its fish and to play with it’s fledgling pack.

To find comfort in their parents.

But a kitten can easily become hurt when away from safety.

Noctis is like a hurt kitten.

Weary of the world but accepting of it as well.

A weakness, that was not their choice, now settling upon their fragile form.

But despite being hurt, a kitten will always seek out its fledgling pack for comfort and strength.

But when a fledgling pack becomes distant, the kitten may become confused and scared.

Noctis is like  a confused and scared kitten.

A kitten that needs its parent and fledgling pack yet is forced at a distance.

A kitten who no longer finds comfort in the sun’s rays and the comfort of their pack’s territory.

A kitten despite it’s youth, can acknowledge that it craves such comfort and will seek it out.

But when they are burnt many times, they accept isolation.

They become lonely and bitter.

Noctis is like a kitten who is lonely and bitter.

A kitten who tries to stand on its own when even they know they are not ready.

That tries to do its part in the pack but it gently forced to the side, deemed too young still.

A kitten will try to behave, but will step further away from the kitten it once was.

Noctis is a very lonely kitten.

---

Prompto is like a puppy.

Easily emotional in some ways but emotionally aware in many others.

A puppy is young and energetic and adores to be surrounded by its pack.

But when the pack does not wish to stay with the puppy.

The puppy becomes confused and lonely.

Prompto is like a confused and lonely puppy.

A puppy that is confused and lonely will try to behave so it’s pack can come back.

A puppy whose pack does not come back turns the puppy into a heartbroken and hurt puppy.

Prompto is like a heartbroken and hurt puppy. A heartbroken and hurt puppy will adjust terribly to isolation.

They become quiet and, in a way, scared.

They wish for a pack but can not seek one for fear of renewed isolation. They try to be good.

A puppy always tries to be good.

Prompto is a very lonely puppy.

— When the kitten and puppy meet, they are unaccustomed to the lack of distance.

To look over their shoulder and spot the other closely behind.

It takes longer than they wished to slowly grow used to such closeness.

The kitten and puppy are silent in their tears of relief as they submerge themselves within the warmth of pack provided by the other.

The kitten and the puppy are different in their ways. Many things strange to one that the other finds normal.

It is strange and new and different.

But so very, very warm.

— It was only by chance, a literal droplet in the sea of possibilities and circumstances, that the puppy and kitten found the Coeurl.

The Coeurl, unused to the closeness of pack, lashed out at them fiercely, the isolation crazed predator unsure of what a pack was anymore.

Had the kitten found the Coeurl on its own, their near similar yet distinctively different ways would had caused them to part in anger and hurt.

Had the puppy found the Coeurl on its own, the Coeurl’s way to communicate would have caused the puppy to feel unwanted and scared.

But they found the Coeurl together.

The kitten quietly properly communicating the Coeurl’s words to the puppy.

While the puppy gently soothed the Kitten’s many unintended faux pas.

The Coeurl, had the puppy and kitten not found them together, would have simply lashed out and left. Returning to their shattered home and pack.

Yet the kitten gave the Coeurl the distance it need. And the puppy gave the Coeurl the closeness it desperately craved.

Soon, the distance closed.

And soon, the Coeurl was gently submerged in the warmth that only a pack could provide.

The kitten and puppy were silent as the Coeurl took in their warmth.

—

Noctis was like a kitten.

Prompto was like a puppy.

Ravus was like a Coeurl.

They were similar to each of them that it was simple to associate them with those creatures.

Noctis adored napping in the sun’s gentle rays, Ravus always complained to a laughing Prompto when the young prince latched on to him during those times. Ravus complained further when Prompto would join in.

(Yet no matter how much he complained, he always drifted off alongside them, every time.)

Noctis likes to hunt for his fish. To sit by the water and listen to the gentle noise around him.

Prompto enjoying taking photos of each catch.

Ravus is quiet but content as Noctis explains facts of each catch.

Noctis loves to be near his pack, to feel their presence even at a distance. —- When Ravus and Noctis needed to rest, Prompto offered them his empty home.

Any pack he had before was a distant memory.

His home hollow and cold.

Photos of barely remembered parents and images they placed up there.

Photo albums barely showing him, always empty.

Ravus and Noctis were very territorial.

They circle the territory Prompto provides them. Eye everything that enters their sight.

They do not like it, and so they tell him that and leave.

Prompto is heartbroken for all but a moment before he is called after by Ravus and Noctis, gently tugged along.

The three return to the cold home hours later with many warm and colorful things.

(Prompto sleeps surrounded by his pack that very night. )

—-

Prompto adores being close to his pack, to play and simply continue life by their side. 

He adores watching Noctis and Ravus carry on with each day. To capture the moments that only he was gifted to see through the lens of his camera. 

He loved all of his photos, but he had favorites as well. 

He captures the moment Noctis beats Ravus in chess.

The smugness on the Lucian’s face and the annoyed expression on The Tenebraen’s.

(He can see the playfulness in their eyes, the small almost unnoticeable smile on Ravus’ lips, the laughter in each of their voices. )

He captures the different ways Ravus puts up his hair.

Noctis was fond of the way his hair swished as it grew longer.

Ravus always said he would cut it.

(He never did. )

How Ravus would have an soft smile on his face as he cared for the plants he brought from his kingdom. 

The way his eyes grew gentle as he explained to Prompto facts about each flower. Prompto opened his cold house to Ravus and Noctis when they needed to rest. 

Prompto was left with a home that was full of warmth and pictures that he looked at with love and fondness. 

(Prompto’s heart was always on the verge of bursting when he ran out of photo albums and picture frames. A smile on his face when he needed to buy more.) — Ravus does not know when he grew close to the two. 

It has been very long since he was close to anyone. 

He remembered, vaguely, of times when he was close to his pack and home. 

But when he attempted to reach those memories, he felt hollow. 

Ravus was very much (not) truthful of his feelings. 

He was irritated when Noctis would not let go of him during his naps, especially when Prompto decided to play along. (Because he would eventually drift off to sleep surrounded by their warmth.) 

He was frustrated when Prompto or Noctis asked him facts about the plants he kept. (Because while he was fond of those plants, he knew he could show them better plants, more beautiful flowers because while these were fine, they both deserve to be amazed by ones more worthy of being presented to pack-) 

He couldn’t help but sigh in exasperation when he saw more photos on the walls in Prompto’s home. (Especially the ones of Prompto’s parents. because how dare they hurt his pack member, have they no shame-) 

He honestly considered cutting his hair but would forget every time. (Not because his pack would be sad,and he enjoys when they play with it, no, of course not-) 

Ravus does not know why he grew close to them. (Why he and Noctis had enough of Prompto’s sadness when his parents called and came together and ‘convinced’ Prompto’s parents to never bother the young soul again because how DARE they hurt-) 

But he supposed it wasn’t all too bad. (It was wonderful) 

It was pleasant enough that he could stick around for a moment longer. (For as long as they wish for him to stay.)

—-

A Coeurl, a kitten, and a puppy became a pack of three when their former packs turned them away.

Eventually those packs would realize what they did and try to reach out to them, hoping for forgiveness.

(But the small pack of three would not be burnt again.)

Their pack was not big, nor prestigious.

Nor was it always perfect.

But they took the time to settle gently into the life their pack provided.

Their territory consisted of a decent sized home with photos and plants and occasional fishing tool covering every available space. 

With blankets draped along every large piece of furniture that was directly warmed by sunlight. 

Smells of cuisines from their walks of life always drifting from the kitchen. 

Every step taken into the house was filled with a sense of home and comfort and warmth.

A Coeurl, a kitten, and a puppy became a pack of three when their former packs turned them away. 

(And they can genuinely say they were very happy) 

--

reblog!

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #Noctis Lucis Caelum #prompto argentum #ravus nox fleuret #one shot #fic

[damienthepious]

hello loves. I knew this was going to be my last Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday offering until december, so I wanted to make sure it counted. My goals for this month? Finish that little one-two punch fic from earlier, publish a 100th fic, and...

well...

finish this. So. Here we go...

Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 19 - End)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum & The Keep

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol), Mutual Pining, canon typical Arum ignoring feelings

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: Stay 'till you can breathe like normal people do / I've got room in my house for you

Chapter Notes: End of the road, huh? Never dreamed this fic would get this long, never dreamed it would mean this much to me. This is the longest piece of fiction I've ever written, and the longest work I've ever completed by a country mile. Thank you for hanging in there with me. Thank you for reading. Thank you for every kudos and comment and bookmark. Thank you. Chapter summary from the song Midland, by The Mountain Goats. Have I ever shared my playlist for this fic? See the end of the chapter notes, I'll stick a link there.

~

The first night on the road home is probably the most difficult.

It's-

It's the first time that Rilla has gone to bed without Arum in literal shouting distance in… in months.

She doesn't say anything about it. She doesn't know what to say about it. Arum is safe, and she and Damien are going home, and they're going to see him again. They are. It's stupid to get all emotional about the fact that they- they're just going to need to deal with a little separation, for a few weeks or so.

Damien douses the fire as Rilla steels herself, flattening her face, arranging their bedroll. Damien comes to lay down beside her, and when he slips his arms around her, she tries to sigh, and- her breath catches.

Damien does not flinch. He presses his lips just above her brow, and she can feel the sympathetic tension in his arms as they settle in the bedroll, curling against each other, as close as they can manage despite the heat.

"I know," he whispers, and Rilla grits her teeth. "I know, my love. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she manages. "Nothing to be sorry about."

"Of course it will be a challenge, this journey," Damien murmurs into her hair. "Especially this night. He is still so close, speaking relatively. So close we can still see that subtle, mellow glow from his swamp on the horizon. So close, and yet… riding away from him aches in my heart like a betrayal. We must, of course. Our duties, our lives… and I miss the Citadel as well. Miss the safety and warmth of your hut, miss… ah," she feels his lip curl into a small smile against her temple. "Ah, but there is the other side of the dilemma, yes? It is so difficult to think of your home, now, without…"

Without Arum there, too.

Rilla sniffs lightly, readjusting her grip on Damien beneath the heavy cloth, and then she pokes him in the side, making him exhale a gust of laughter.

"Faster we fall asleep, faster we'll be on the road again," she mutters. "Faster we're home, faster we'll find out exactly what the hell that plant he gave us actually does."

"Ah- right. I suppose you're right, my love."

"Just-" she clocks her head off his cheek, pursing her lips when that makes him laugh again. "Shush. Sleep now, mope later."

He hums an agreement, soft and soothing, and settles beside her. "Goodnight, my flower. I love you."

Rilla manages the ghost of a smile, feeling one of Damien's hands gently caressing up and down her back. "I love you too. Now go to sleep already."

He nods, light laughter still on his lips, and then he kisses her cheek one more time before he closes his eyes, and Rilla sighs and closes her eyes as well.

She doesn't exactly take her own advice, though.

The discomfort, the worry, the knowledge that she can't just call out and make sure that Arum's still okay- her mind won't slow down enough for sleep to take her, not for what feels like a long time.

It's okay, though. It's okay.

Damien is here with her. His hand keeps up that steady rhythm, his palm soft as his fingers trace up and down her back, gentle as rain, and clearly he's not exactly drifting off either.

They don't say anything else. Rilla thinks they both know it won't do any good, won't make them feel any better. They don't speak, but they can still hold each other, silent and longing despite themselves, and eventually, eventually, they will sleep.

And tomorrow they'll be another step closer to home.

~

The temperature in the Keep is the same as it always has been, but Arum finds himself cold, more often than not. The remainder of his injuries itch . Amaryllis left him with a number of salves to apply, to reduce the scarring, to speed the already-sped healing process, but it is… strange, to apply it himself. It felt different, before, smoothed across the ragged scabs by her soft, attentive, confident fingers. His own scales are cool. His own fingers do not hold the same softness. It feels perfunctory, now. Awkward and stiff. And-

When she finished tending to him, rewrapping bandages or checking his temperature or applying salve, Amaryllis would always… touch him, then. A gentle tap, on his shoulder, on his elbow. A silent signal, accompanied with a smile, to let him know she was done, before she would stand straighter and turn to attend to other tasks.

Once, when he is done smoothing his fingers across his fading wounds, he reaches across his body and taps his own elbow, hesitant, and then he feels so utterly foolish, so strangely empty, that he-

He does nothing. He simply hurts, for a long moment, before he sighs and sets the salve aside.

The Keep tries, in its way, to soothe this pain as it is soothing his actual injuries, but it is… not precisely the same. He is grateful for the Keep's attempts at physicality, grateful for the touch of vines, grateful to sleep cocooned in soft, oversized petals, even if it makes him feel like a coddled hatchling again.

("You're healing," Amaryllis says, stern and gentle. "Being rough on yourself is only going to make it take even longer. Just- let me take care of you, you big stubborn idiot.")

He misses her. He misses them both. He knew he would, before they left, but-

He spent so, so long missing the Keep. He is quite tired of missing.

~

During the day, they ride.

They can travel much more quickly, without needing to worry over the wounds of an injured monster. It will make the return trip substantially faster, but-

Neither of them feel as if it is truly going faster.

It reminds Rilla of paradoxes. It reminds Damien of a chiasmus, the reversal with new perspectives. Neither of them discuss it, though they both urge the horse faster, both eye the horizon with skeptical intent, as if it is widening from them deliberately.

It is a relief, not to worry over Arum's safety while they ride, not to have to duck their heads and avoid the eyes of other travelers, not to need to lie. They don't need to slow down to check him over and make sure none of his injuries have started bleeding, they don't need to break from travel to find a safe place hidden far away from the road to rest in each night. It's another odd overlay- the hurt of leaving him behind shaded by the relief of knowing that he's safe, and home, and healing. Rilla can't stop herself from mentioning where she thinks he'll be in his recovery day by day, based on her estimates considering how the Keep seemed to be accelerating the healing process.

Last of the bandages off, today, I'd bet, she says, absent as they ride, her eyes distant, and Damien nudges the horse a little faster.

Replacement wrap for the crack in his horn, today, I think, she says, and Damien remembers the elegant curves that grace Arum's head, his throat aching.

He should be shifting to the next set of exercises for his wrist around now, she mumbles as they sit beside the fire. He'd better've remembered, she adds with a frown, and Damien pulls her even closer.

Rilla does not say that she misses him. Not in so many words. Damien follows her example, though he often finds himself glancing back the way they came, watching as the distance between the pair of them and Lord Arum grows, clutching his heart to stifle the bittersweet pang at his center.

In the small stolen bits of time when they are not riding, eating, or sleeping, Rilla likes to examine Arum's gift. She gently lifts the wrapped plant out from the saddlebag that has become its temporary home, settling it in her lap and squinting at it, observing the structure of the leaves, the colors, carefully easing her fingers into the dirt to determine the root structure.

She hasn't seen anything exactly like it before, she explains to Damien, and the intensity of her focus makes his heart thrum with fondness and familiarity. She narrows her eyes at the small stalk, the waxy purple and green leaves on the trio of branches at the top (Damien remembers Arum's glossy green scales, his violet eyes, and he aches again with longing), and she purses her lips. Native to the swamp, she decides. It must be. It doesn't… seem magical, so she isn't sure what Arum could have meant when he gave it to them, but- well, it's not like Rilla has any of her more delicate instruments here on the road with her. She can't exactly test it, or put some cells under a microscope. She just does her best to water it enough to keep the soil wrapped at its base at a consistent moisture level, and she turns it over in her mind while she's prevented by pesky lack of resources from turning it over in reality.

Neither of them mention their fondness for the plant, either. It reminds them both of Arum, of the Keep, of the swamp, and even while Rilla frowns at her lack of knowledge, that reminds her of Arum too. It makes her scowl, and smile, and she wishes he was here to smack him for leaving her with a mystery deliberately, the sly monster that he is. She wishes he was here for a number of other reasons, too, but that's beside the point.

Damien, for his part, cannot say if he has ever had so many new verses dancing in his head at once. The plant is such a beautiful little metonymy, such a hopeful tether, and though he cannot help but yearn, his yearning still feels safe, like a source.

The nights…

The nights remain difficult. The midpoint of their journey is especially so- as distant from Rilla's home as they are from Arum himself, the night particularly dark this deep in the wilderness, comforted by each others arms and little else besides.

They wake bleary, but relieved to have put another night behind them. The help each other to their feet, and they ride.

~

The representative is halfway between the border of the swamp and the Keep when Arum finally allows the denizens of his swamp to do as they wish, to descend upon this unfortunate creature and chase him back out the way he came.

Arum steps from the portal just at the edge of his territory, just as the faun stumbles the final few steps backwards over the loose remnants of the border wall Arum and the Keep have been slowly dismantling, and the monster falls halfway into mud with a yelp and his hooves in the air.

Arum lifts a hand, and his denizens abandon their pursuit, birds and amphibians and mammals retreating back into the swamp and returning to their lives, and Arum looks down at the creature. He folds his arms primly behind himself, glaring hard over his snout until the faun notices him in his scrabbling.

He yelps again, losing his grip on a vine beside him and planting his face in the mud, and Arum tilts his head.

"No, no," he says, his voice low and murmuring and magnanimous. "By all means, take your time."

The creature pants, staring up at him, and then he scrambles backwards and rolls up on his hooves, his frame hunched in obvious terror.

"… Well?" Arum drawls after the panting silence draws long. "I don't expect you would have come this far for nothing, hm?"

The faun blinks, blank, and then he shakes his head quickly and his furry fingers fumble at the satchel at his side. "I- yes I- I have been tasked to deliver a m-message and-"

Arum takes a step closer, and the creature's words fly from his tongue, the muscles in his legs bunching as if to bolt. "A message…" he repeats slowly. "How… interesting."

The faun opens his mouth again, trembling, but the words seem to catch in his mouth as Arum looms.

"You, little creature," Arum says, very slowly, "look as if you have seen a ghost. Why, may I ask, would that be the case?"

"I-" the monster bites his tongue, glances aside as if hoping for some sort of help, and then he looks to Arum again. "I was told- I was- you were supposed to be-"

"Dead?"

The faun flinches, and Arum does not let himself feel guilty, considering that this poor little fool is only adjacent to the situation. The point needs be made, and since Arum cannot safely make it to the Senate in person this will have to do. He does soften the glare in his eyes, though, coiling his tail as he waits for the creature to respond.

"I am- I am to seek the current ruler of- of-"

"I am Lord Arum, ruler of the Swamp of Titan's Blooms," Arum says, flat and mild. "Will that suffice for you, then?"

The faun stumbles back another step, his shoulders hitting a tree. "I-I-I represent the Senate a-and they have- have sent me to-"

"The last creature who spoke to me on behalf of your Senate tried to plant a blade in my spine." Arum tilts his head in the other direction, leaning down and close so he may hiss his next words eye-to-eye with this creature. "She missed. Do you believe that your aim will be more true?"

The faun swallows, visibly, his eyes wide and his hands trembling, though he seems too frightened, now, to try to move at all. "I… I am not- not an assassin, I am simply-"

"Delivering a message, as you said." Arum straightens, raising an eyebrow as he stares down his snout at the monster. "To the current ruler of the swamp." Arum grins, a conspicuous display of fangs. "I am he. What missive did the Senate intend for me, then?"

With shaking hands, the faun pulls a scroll from the satchel at his side, and holds it out.

Arum takes the parchment gently, though the faun still flinches, and he reads the letter with careful attention, his brows climbing. He snorts, eventually, folding the paper between his claws and giving the courier an amused sort of look. "The previous ruler of this swamp was killed in the effort to eradicate the human infection," he parrots with half a laugh, and then he shakes his head. "I suppose that is one way in which to spin the truth. Was killed. A delightfully overt lack of active perpetrator in that claim, hm?"

The faun opens his mouth as if to reply, but then he simply gives a sharp nod, fear still obvious in his stance, in his eye, and Arum sighs.

"Well. You may tell the Senate that if they wish to broker an alliance with the Lord of the Swamp, they may come to entreat him personally . As things stand, The Swamp of Titan's Blooms and its residents are no longer a part of the effort to eradicate humanity, nor do they acknowledge the leadership of the Senate. If the Senate wishes to plead its case they may do so here, where their deceit shall not find purchase. Otherwise," Arum growls low, "my lands may simply find other allies. We may still, regardless of whatever overtures the Senate decides to make."

"Y-you- you want me t-to- to tell them-" the faun's eyes widen to saucers, his heartbeat approaching hummingbird speeds, and Arum decides to take pity.

"Hm. Yes, well. I suppose that there is no reason to give them excuse to blame the messenger. Wait a moment, then. Keep, parchment and ink, if you would."

The Keep does as asked, and the faun's eyes flick to the vines that appear from apparent nowhere to hand him his tools. The monster's body is prey-still, leaving aside the trembling.

Arum writes out his letter rather quickly. He has been thinking this through for long enough that he does not need more than a single draft. He rolls the parchment and slides it back into the case he had pulled the Senate's own letter from, and then he holds it out.

"Perhaps," Arum says, his voice low, "you should endeavor to leave the room before they read that particular note, hm?"

After a long moment faun lifts his hands, nods, and gingerly tucks the letter back into his satchel.

~

Once he is safely back within his Keep, Arum laughs until tears prick at the corners of his eyes, laughs until his ribs hurt, and it doesn't even matter how the Senate responds. Arum cannot find the place within himself to care. He will find a way to survive, to thrive, regardless of whatever those miserable fools decide to do about him.

Arum laughs, the last lingering ghosts of his injuries twinging at him, and he feels foolish, and wild, and free.

~

The hut sits just as they left it.

The windows are dark, the herb garden has grown a little scruffy around the edges, the flowers across the trellises drift slightly in the wind, and Rilla squeezes her arms around Damien before she swings down from the saddle. She lifts Arum's plant from the saddlebag as Damien dismounts as well, and he gives her a soft, tired smile before he leads his horse off towards her tiny one-horse stable by the edge of the trees.

There's a small, childish, illogical part of Rilla that expects Arum to be there when she creaks open the door. It's stupid, obviously, which is why she doesn't let herself feel disappointed when she finds the hut exactly as empty as it should be. She sets the plant aside first, dumps the rest of her bags in a corner, and goes to light the hearth.

When Damien finishes settling his horse and comes inside with the rest of their bags, Rilla has nearly finished moving the pile of notes in the corner of the kitchen to a new spot on one of her bookshelves, and she grins a little manically at him as he sets his bags down.

"I think I've got a pot big enough to replant this thing. Help me bring it inside?"

He smiles, and they're both exhausted but this is too important to wait. For both of them.

She scoops up some turned earth from the garden to mix with the wrapped soil around the roots of Arum's plant (no more than half again, she remembers, and she's very very careful about that particular measurement), and she and Damien maneuver a large, oval shaped pot into the space Rilla has cleared, at the corner of her kitchen and out of sight of the windows.

It looks so strange and incongruous there, purple and green and wild, and the scent of fresh earth mingles with the reassuring scent of the flames in the hearth, another unfamiliar addition. Damien rests a hand on Rilla's arm, his other hand pressing over his heart, and when he sighs Rilla feels her heart stumble as well.

"Well," she says quietly. "He said it would bloom quickly, but obviously it's not going to bloom right now." She lifts a hand, gripping Damien's hand and squeezing. "C'mon. Not gonna waste time watching for the pot to boil. Let's unpack, and put something together for dinner, yeah?"

Damien squeezes her hand in return, gives the plant one last lingering look, and then turns away to help her put their home to rights again.

~

Arum feels the Keep buzz through with excitement, hears it pull the portal open at his back, and he barely manages to set his tools down rather than simply dropping them to clatter on his workbench before he spins to see-

"-miss him," Amaryllis says softly, and through the portal Arum sees her sat at their table in the warmth of the kitchen, sees Damien beside her, sees their foreheads ducked close together, Damien's arm wrapped around her shoulder, Amaryllis' hands cupping his face, their eyes gently closed. "Just- it's so quiet and-"

"I know," Damien says, and Arum's heart feels as if it fluoresces within his chest at the poet's voice, finally- finally. "I miss him as well. But- patience, love. Surely, surely we can be patient." Damien nudges their foreheads together, smiling wryly, and the arm around Amaryllis' shoulders tightens as the doctor sighs. "We will see him again. We will."

"Sooner than you think, perhaps," Arum manages, mildly smug that his voice only shakes a little, and the humans both gasp, whipping their faces towards him, all shock and wonder and- delight. His throat goes tight, then, but he still manages to speak. Barely. "Amaryllis," he murmurs, too much feeling in his voice. "Honeysuckle."

They spring to their feet, and Arum cannot help himself. He rushes forward as well.

They collide just in the threshold of the portal, Amaryllis' barreling into his chest and knocking the air from his lungs, Damien's arms flinging around him with a joyous laugh, and-

And perhaps it does not matter, that Arum feels tears at the corners of their eyes. Not if the humans' eyes are bright with tears as well.

"You," Amaryllis growls, her arms tight and fierce around him, and then she leans back enough to swipe a hand over her eyes and scowl before she starts poking at him. "Don't think you can waltz in all dramatic and get around me checking in on you- have you been applying-"

"Every single salve you left me with, like clockwork. Following the doctor's orders to the letter," Arum says, his voice an indulgent purr as Amaryllis' hands skate over his midsection, as she presses a palm over the scar on his back, examining him with critical, warm attention. He would attempt to hold up some degree of indignation about this, if he were not so undeniably, breathlessly happy to hear her complaints again at last. "As if I could possibly ignore you, as if I could not feel the threat of your ire from miles and miles distant-"

Damien breathes something like a sob, his forehead pressed to Arum's shoulder, and Arum make a small, sympathetic noise, curling two arms around him and holding him tighter.

"Oh, little songbird-"

"Missed- missed even your arguments, my lily, I-"

"I missed you as well," Arum admits in a hiss, nuzzling into Damien's hair. "Missed you both, so much more than I knew I could."

The Keep sings behind him, a melody of teasing exasperation and fondness and delight, and Amaryllis leans back to grin, lifting a hand to touch the curling vines of the portal.

"Keep," she says, and she sounds so equally fond that Arum cannot help the little stab of adoration. "So, has he been taking care of himself, then?"

The Keep warbles, affirming and warm, and Amaryllis turns her skeptical, playful gaze back towards Arum, her smile tilting in such a way that he thinks that perhaps she is content with his Keep's answer.

"So that's what the plant does, then? It lets you make a portal- nevermind the distance, weeks and weeks of travel away?"

"That is not it's function, precisely," Arum says. "It has no function, it is simply… a piece of life, from my swamp. If I merely wished to grant myself a doorway to you- the plant itself… it was not necessary. The soil would have sufficed, in truth, for a short time at least, but-"

"But?" Amaryllis asks, looking up at him with more joy on her face than Arum knows what to do with.

"But this seemed… better. More… decisive. A scattering of dirt may be swept aside. I care far more for the both of you than such a simple gesture. This-"

The plant in the wide oval pot by Amaryllis' fireplace is vibrant, glossy, a stab of floral familiarity, shocking and incongruous in this place that Arum grew to know so well.

"You shared your home with me," he says, slow and certain. "It seemed only fitting to give you a piece of mine." He inhales, and he smiles as he continues. "Its roots are taking hold here now, just as mine have, alongside your own."

Damien makes another choking noise, and then his arms tighten around Arum even further, and he presses his lips to Arum's neck. "Let us grow together," he breathes against Arum's scales in a shaking voice, and Arum knows that cadence in his voice, knows the ringing of a poem in Damien's voice. "Twined roots, fruits shared- bite by bite." Damien smiles, lifts his head, cups Arum's cheek in a hand as he continues, his voice so warm and musical that Arum can hardly focus on anything besides. "We tend to that which heals us," he murmurs, "each vine another trellis, braiding lines, lifting- towards the light-"

Arum is too stunned by the words, hit too closely by them, and Amaryllis recovers more quickly, reaching up to brush the tears away from Damien's cheeks, pressing a kiss there as if to replace them.

"I think that's my favorite of the new ones," she whispers. "Thank you."

"Honeysuckle," Arum manages, after another moment, and then he leans down to echo Amaryllis' kiss on the poet's other cheek. "How you craft such beauty… it is quite beyond me."

"With such inspiration before me," Damien says in a quavering voice, "the words practically weave themselves."

"Will that stay?" Amaryllis asks suddenly, gesturing towards the portal.

"I could dismiss it, summon it back when it is needed," he says.

"Cool," she says, and Arum barks a shocked laugh as she tugs at his hands, pulling himself and Damien back towards the table, maneuvering them to sit and folding herself against his side with a hand on his chest, her fingers tapping in a rhythm that it takes him a few moments to realize-

She's tapping along to the beat of his heart. Her fingers drum a little faster, after that.

Arum swallows roughly, and then he nudges the Keep with his mind, and as it closes the portal, leaving the little plant behind in the corner (she placed it precisely where he suggested- he will need to prod her later, discover where she fit that ream of notes and theories instead), Arum is grateful to still feel just the barest hint of the Keep's presence at the edges of his mind. The magic will settle here, yes, just as he did. If they want it to.

He exhales slowly, holding the both of them in silence for a long moment.

"I…" he murmurs eventually, uncertain. "I admit that I… worried, after you left, that perhaps this would be… a step too far. Too presumptuous, to grant myself a door directly into your home, but-"

"No-" Amaryllis shakes her head, lifting away enough to meet his eye. "Arum this is incredible- can you just summon a portal anywhere?"

"Not anywhere," he corrects, mild. "Only within the Swamp of Titan's Blooms. Which…"

Amaryllis looks to the plant, more vivid purple now than it was when he gave it to her.

"You… you literally gave us a piece of… you literally gave us a bloom from your swamp."

"Oh Arum," Damien keens, pressing another kiss to his throat. "Oh-"

"I… yes. It seemed the only thing to do," he says, ducking his head, flustered with his frill fluttering. "I… I knew…" he stops, furrows his brow, tries again. "The Keep is my home, my family. And I… I know, now, that I… I've grown to think of this place… I want this place to be my home as well. I want to be close by your sides. I want- you. I want to be a part of your lives."

"Good," Amaryllis says, but even in her nonchalance her voice is- trembling. Her hand presses hard over his heart, and the she presses her mouth to his in a lingering kiss. "Saints- Arum, we want you too."

"Want you always," Damien adds, tearful. "Oh, to be a home for you- to tend our garden together- oh Arum, oh lily we will hold you if you want us- we will keep you safe, warm-"

Damien interrupts himself, clearly shocking himself with a yawn, and Arum and Amaryllis both laugh at the look of mortification on his face.

"You are…" Arum presses his snout against Damien's temple when he can't find the words to voice what, precisely, Damien is. "Ridiculous," he settles on. "And clearly exhausted. The plant bloomed much more quickly than I was expecting, I think," he mutters, glaring in its direction without any heat. "I can still smell the road on the both of you. Have you gotten any rest whatsoever since you've been home?"

Amaryllis rolls her eyes while Damien purses his lips in obvious guilt, and Arum stifles another laugh.

"Well. It seems it is my turn to act responsibly for once. To bed with you. You certainly won't be rid of me so easily that you shall miss out on a single sleepless night of my presence. To bed," he repeats, "and I shall find mine as well."

Damien blinks, surprised again, and he and Amaryllis meet each other's eyes for a moment, something passing between them.

"What?" Arum grumbles. "What is it? I do not intend to let you wear yourselves out further for my sake. Certainly you would not allow the opposite, were the tables turned."

"You- you want to sleep in the exam room again?" Amaryllis asks, her tone careful, and Arum-

Arum did not realize that there was another option open to him. Would she like for him to- return to the Keep?

He presses his expression flat, unbothered, and then he says, "Where… else?"

Damien and Amaryllis lock eyes again, and this time he can read a note of fondness before Amaryllis turns her attention back to him.

"Well…" Amaryillis trails off. "If you want to sleep in there, you can. I haven't touched it since we got home, so it's still set up the same as when you left it, but-"

"But?"

Amaryllis ducks her head, then looks up at him through the fall of her hair, her smile soft and easy. "You… aren't my patient, Arum," she says, and he blinks. "Not anymore. If you want that to still be your bed here- I understand. You spent ages there, I get it if that's where you're comfortable. But… we love you. We love you, and there's room in our bed for you, too. If you want it."

"If…" Arum trails off, his mind still catching on the belated realization that he- he may exist here, uninjured. A guest, not a patient, as he once imagined. "You… want me to…"

"We love you, Arum," Damien repeats, his tone unspeakably tender. "We want you. Every inch, every moment we may share is a treasure, a gift."

"Did it bother you to have us share your bed?" Amaryllis asks, and Arum wrinkles his snout.

"Ridiculous-"

"Exactly. So…" she bites her lip, and then she leans up, and kisses Arum on the cheek, her lips soft and warm against his scales. "Come to bed with us?"

That feeling again, as if his heart is glowing and warm, as if the light should be pouring out in shafts between his ribs. He presses his mouth against her own, an invitation, a request, and when she hums another kiss against his scales the light within him pulses hot.

"Please," he whispers, and with these two creatures in his arms, with the Keep a gentle presence at the edge of his mind, Arum knows that this is where he belongs.

The monster is barely conscious before he starts trying to pull the both of them closer.

Rilla can hardly blame him. If she wasn't worried about waking him too early, she would have tugged him into her arms ages ago. He's too tired to do much more than give a mumbled breath, though, his greedy limbs stretching out to tug weakly at Rilla and Damien's sides. Damien hums himself awake at Arum's touch, and he smiles so, so wide before his eyes blink muzzily open, and then he looks down at the monster in his arms, and then up at Rilla with a watery smile. She grins right back, and then she obliges Arum's sleep-slack, greedy hands, and she folds herself against his chest, angling her chin up so she can press a kiss to his neck, and Damien embraces him from the other side, strong arms looped around Arum's chest, fingers tracing the ridges of his scales.

Arum murmurs something incomprehensible through his teeth, his eyelids fluttering, and as Rilla kisses him again he hisses a contented sigh, his violet eyes slitting open to meet her gaze in the gentle light of morning.

Rilla is so shockingly in love that her heartbeat stumbles, and Arum and Damien are safe within her arms.

(He’s so pleased, radiating such obvious contentment, and he is so entirely stunned to wake with them holding him. His cheek rests on her hand and he presses his face into it as he rouses, his scales already warm from their radiant heat and his breathing going sharper through his smile, and she feels a fierce sort of satisfaction at that, at the idea of soothing him awake like this again, and again, and again)

He growls lightly, nipping at her fingers and tugging the both of them closer against his chest, rumbling with a deep, inhuman purr.

She almost can't believe there was a time when she thought of him only as a monster.

In their arms, in their bed, in their home. He is their monster. Safe, and healed, and loved.

~

End notes: Thank you. I love you. Thank you. For further feelings, my playlist for this fic lives here.

also? this note has been sitting at the end of this document since it was only three lines of goofy plot ideas.

[……… profit????]

#hold breath hit post cry into your pillow day fam #elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #sir damien #amaryllis of exile #the keep #scattered on my shore #it's done. it's done. #it's 90k and it's DONE

[moonraccoon-exe]

Hi, Connie. I know it's been a while since you did any headcanons and idk if you still do them, but I'm curious of your opinion. I realize the wall is one giant quarantine bubble, but the people are still free to do as the please inside it. How do you think each of the chocobros would handle an Insomnia-wide quarantine like what's going on in most of the world right now? What if one of them got sick (assuming a FFXV equivalent of COVID-19?) How would Regis, as King, take care of his people?

PS: Aparently the Keep Reading line is having some troubles. May appear right under the question (how did it get THERE?) or nowhere at all lol pls forgive tumblr he trying. 

HEEEEEEEEEELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’s definitely been a while since I did any headcanons, but that’s because school has kept me busy like crazy, and when I have spare time, I put it into my two big fanfics going on (I don’t want people to wait too much!) but I’ll definitely keep doing these, every single one of them, until I finish, even if it takes me years and years <3

The ask prompts are one of my favorite things in the world so of course I’ll keep them going!

HOH

YOUR PROMPT IS SUPER INTERESTING!!!!! AYYYYY, let’s see what this raccoonie brain has there!! 

FFXV Insomnia in a quarantine

First things first, the government

Regis, as King:

Regis is going all the way into making sure EVERYONE can stay home.

Regis is going to ask the other countries to lend Lucis money. As in. M I L L I O N S.

“Your Majesty, you ARE aware we’re nowhere half to repaying that debt in a near future?”

“THIS IS A LITERAL PLAGUE WITH NO CURE YET THAT’S KILLING DOZENS SOME OF WHICH THEIR FAMILIES CAN’T SAY GOODBYE TO AND YOU W O R RY  A B O UT   T HE  E  C O NO M Y   ¿¿¿? ?!??”

Regis has brain and, most importantly, humanity. He’s definitely going to put the country in debt for the next 15 kings is that helps people right now.

Mostly because he’s aware it’s no one’s fault. 

Regis is announcing what he’s going to do to keep people safe publicly:

The next three months of any loans are forgiven. Mortgage, rent, water, electricity, and all the public services will be free for the next three months. If you own any debts, be it a house or a little clock, you don’t have to pay on the next 3 months, and instead that amount will be divided into future months in small amounts so it’s recovered in the medium or long run. No one needs to spend one gil in any of the basics, don’t worry about that, it’s covered, government’s got you, SO PLEASE STAY HOME. 

Regis is aware that some people can’t stay home because what little they earn is what they spend in basic food; Regis is going to spend lots of the money he burrowed in them.

Regis is going to pay as well to teachers and artists for online classes and entertainment, because he’s aware of the mental/emotional distress people can be in after certain time indoors. 

Regis is going to put most the money in the medical and cleaning services.

Regis is going to keep online and phone polls for people to fill in particular cases (I still need to go out because I need to go look after my mother each friday, I still need to go out because I need to go get medicines each certain time at this district) so the Citadel’s intel know best what to do.

Regis is going to make sure to have teams sanitizing public transport and places everyday.

Regis is a no-game man, dammit.

((Regis is the reason Insomnia only needed three months before being free))

Makes sure the media broadcasts not only the death cases, but also and most importantly the healed cases. Not gonna let the media get stupid with this for money or paranoia, no sir

Noctis, as prince

DID YOU THINK HE WAS JUST GOING TO MOP, THIS IS THE PRINCE

(Remember the game tells us he was a damn good prince as in politically? what a bean <3)

Noct was taken more off guard; Regis acted immediately like a (good) madman, Noctis still needed a bit to process it

Noct is who comes up with some ideas that Regis puts into action (the phone/online polls, the online classes, for example)

Noct too manages some of the intel going on during quarentine to see how the city is progressing and how else they can help.

Noctis is in charge of the interviews along the...health minister (?) everyday, while Regis stays at work and intel.

Noctis makes sure to do a livestream each certain days to greet the people, answer questions, or just have a bit of fun, and to remind them to stay home and to keep the spirits up. We know Noct would rather rot in boredome in his sofa because Sleepy Boy, but he knows the effect he has on his people, so he does the livestreams for them; to keep them entertained, informed, and simply to keep them sane.

Noctis came up with the idea of making an app/text service for those that suffer of domestic violence; “staying home” sounds easy to him because he has a huge house and a good family, but he’s aware that not do everyone. 

(Putting a keep reading here)

Noctis

Sleeps it away lmao

Honestly Noct doesn’t have much troubles with the whole “stay home” thing. He likes home. He LOVES staying home. LET HIM STAY EVEN AFTER QUARENTINE IS OVER.

Noct has videogames and his bed. You don’t need to tell him twice to stay home. 

Noct sleeps most of the day. 

Noct decides to not shower everyday.

The only trouble Noct goes through is that his room starts getting super messy everyday and Ignis isn’t going to appear to help him out. 

Noctis spends his time doing homework and mumbling about how “teachers didn’t use to give us this much homework until quarentine, this is just their excuse goddammit fuck this shit”

I feel you Noct

Besides that, videogames, trash food, and sleeping.

It’s 9 pm, he’s in pajamas. That he hasn’t taken off in three days. 

It’s 6 am and Noct is out of bed. He hasn’t slept since 2 am.

What is this guy’s sleep schedule.

Despite the careless and carefree attitude, Noct still worries. He still has to stay the most informed, as the prince, of the international and national situation, and it sometimes gets stressful.

When Noct sees numbers grow and a gloomy future, he gets stressed but won’t say it; that careless attitude is his way of coping. Like pretending it’s not true.

Noct worries about the poor, too, and the low and working class. He too came up with more ideas along with Regis to keep them safe too and not force them to work while the middle and upper classes stay indoors like it’s not the big deal.

Noct thinks a lot about Prompto. He knows he doesn’t need to go out too much, but he also knows how much of a terribly, horribly emotional distress Prom is in when staying at his house for too long.

Noct takes up on video-phoning Prom, everyday. His best boy can’t be sad, stressed, or messed up, and he’s going to keep him sane and cheer him up everyday. 

Noct may or may have not ended up inviting Prompto to spend quarentine at the Citadel with him. He hadn’t finished saying it when Prom was already at the Citadel’s door asking to be sanitized before going in.

If he got sick, everyone around him would be more scared than him LMAO

“OHNOTHEPRINCEISILLHE’SGOINGTODIEIAMNOTREADYFORTHISNOOOOOOOOO” 

Noct: so can I skip online school like this?

He’d be looked after with almost paranoia, there’s only two of the Lucis Caelum alive and honestly losing the heir and only one that can have kids at this point to the virus woulnd’t be very epic on history books

Noct IS worried, just pretending he’s not. 

Noct is going to avoid Regis LIKE A PRO. He’s going to ask to live somewhere else, will ask to sanitize his room and keep it locked, will ask that Regis gets nowhere near ANY of his belongings. Basically, Noct is going CRAZY over avoiding Regis...so Regis doesn’t catch it :’’( 

What a pure bean

Even if Regis tries visiting him, and even if the whole place is sanitized and like a little bubble away of the rest of the world, Noct will still not want him to come inside. 

Honestly, this is going to make Regis really, deeply sad and maybe even hurt. He wants to stay positive, but he keeps thinking of what if Noct dies to it, and not only dies, he’d also die without having held him for a last time or seen him.

They meet through the window. They phone each other and just touch through the closed window... :’) </3

Noct knows he may be over protecting Regis, but he’s honestly not going to have it any other way. He has way more than enough watching his old man grow old too fast from the Ring to run the risk of giving him this stupid virus. If he has to make his old man sad in order to keep him healthy, SO BE IT. 

Ignis

He’s fine.

He’s just so cool with this.

“Ah, of course. A plague. It was our turn, as was expected.”

...w...what are you talking about, Ignis.

He’s barely impressed. 

Master of following instructions, they told Ignis to stay home and THAT he did.

The store? The neighbor? Just an inch outside his main door? NO. THAT’S NOT INDOORS.

It’s not that he’s paranoid, he’s just not bothered by the idea fo not going out and he knows that the more he stays home the faster this will pass that he just. Stays in, sometimes not even looking out the window for a day or two.

Ignis still phones Noct each two days to remind him his room is messy do something because I won’t, or do nothing, the cockroaches will help you with the crumbs and leftovers in a day more.

Ignis isn’t bored. He still has home office and paperwork to do, the poor, young, miserable thing. 

In his spare time he likes doing stuff he likes, as he normally didn’t have the time to do. 

Ignis is making sure to call the other chocobros to make sure they’re ok. He’s particularly attentive to Prompto.

Boy is having video calls with Gladio because Best Friends. 

Ignis attempts to do as your raccoonie; will try to finish two-week worth of his paperwork in one or two days t o have the rest of the time free LMAO

(I hope, unlike me, he’s succeeding at that)

Ignis worries mostly about others and the outside Lucis. He takes up on the advantage of being bros with the prince to suggest something, that Noct can suggest to Regis to make it better for as many people as possible.

If he got sick, he’d attend hospital and not go out until he’s 100% okay AND spent 2 weeks with no fall back into it. 

He’d thank the doctors and nurses like every five minutes honestly. Iggy appreciates they’re doing such high risk job, keeps admiring them. Dammit.

He would accept no visits. Is it the prince? tell him to FUCK OFF. 

Mostly the throne family Ignis won’t dare visit even after he’s healed.

“IGNIS IT’S OK YOU’VE BEEN FINE FOR A MONTH”

“TALK TO ME WHEN QUARENTINE IS OVER AND/OR THERE IS A VACCINE, GET THE FUCK OFF MY FRONT YARD”

Ignis is not overly worried about the illness. He has stupidly strong defenses and can see himself getting out of this. He worries just what’s normal but keeps spirits up with all the numbers of healed cases.

Go Iggy! 

Gladio

Surprisingly, he’s taking this really well.

Gladio’s sort of more scared than the rest at the news; he was so prepared for physical enemies, the idea of an abstract, non-physical one suddenly sweeps him off his feet.

But he handles it well. So long he doesn’t watch the news.

Gladio won’t listen or read the news on the virus; he’s aware of it, he’ll take care and be careful, but he won’t read or hear numbers or updates, he’ll just live this out until it’s over.

Gladio takes his mind off it with indoor exercising, lots of it. 

Gladio’s job was mostly physical, so he takes on the advantage that he has nearly no chances of home office to do stuff he likes; mostly, this nerd will drown in history documentaries on KupoTube, will watch the equivalent of Disney and Dreamwork movies, will read like the world is ending, and will take up on online courses.

He likes crafts. Okay? Leave him alone and let him give his baby steps into watercolor painting. 

Gladio is video calling Noctis. To force him to exercise LMAO

“OY, NOCT, THIS IS PRE-RECORDED, DO YOU THINK I’M AN IDIOT? COME BACK HERE TO YOUR COMPUTER OR IT’LL BE WORSE”

Gladio is holding back a Desperate-To-Go-Out Iris.

She’s not irresponsible, she just HATES INDOORS LET ME GO OUT IT’LL BE JUST AROUND THE BLOCK

Gladio’s not letting Jared go ANYWHERE

“SOMETHING HAPPENS TO YOU AND I DIE, YOU STAY HERE, I’LL GO BUY GROCERIES AND DON’T YOU DARE GET ANYWHERE NEAR ME AFTER I’M BACK UNTIL I’VE SHOWERED”

Gladdy it’s ok :’)

A bit paranoid when it comes to others, though will still be a bit paranoid about himself.

Gladio is mostly calm about it; just a few times every now and then he’s stressed and a bit too troubled for an easy sleep.

Video calls Iggy every day because Best Friends.

Iggy keeps him sane, the baby :’(

Honestly, Gladio also makes sure that Ignis is ok. Ignis is always looking after all other three, but Gladio is who’s most aware of looking after Ignis. Ignis won’t say it, but he’s probably feeling very lonely after a month indoors, as his family won’t pay much attention to him. Gladio’s making sure to keep him happy, distracted, and in good spirits, and in company.

If he got sick, he’d probably have a very bad emotional time at first.

Gladio would cry and think nearly for sure that he’s dead already.

Not like in drama, he would seriously get sad and be very, very scared :’(

Same than Noct, he wouldn’t let Clarus near him or any of his belongings, nor Jared. Not Iris either, of course, but he worries more for the older men.

Gladio would probably not do very well emotionally in hospital. He’d spend there the necessary time, but then he would probably like most to be in an apartment for himself if available or in his room without letting anyone near. 

Gladio will keep thinking of the chances to live or die, of how scary the idea of a virus with no cure is, will get really gloomy and negative on it.

His family try to provide emotional support, but every time they call Gladio just drowns himself in ideas like what their family would do if he died and it just makes him sadder

The doctors and Iggy are what keep his spirits up, to be honest.

The sadness lasts the first days. AFter that, Gladio’s going to handle the ilness like a DAMN WARRIOR

“YOU INJECT THAT THING, DOC, BRING IT ON”

A new treatment and the consequences are unsure? BRING IT ON.

Whatever it is, Gladio’s HEAD IN FOR IT

Baby boy just needed some time to process it. After that he’s just taking it so lightheartedly, even the doctors get cheered up at his bright attitude towards it.

“You’ve progressed on a 1%”

“HELL YEAH ONE PERCENT!!!!!!!!!!! :D”

What a beautiful boy omg

Prompto

This one is the chocobro that REALLY gets hit by quarentine.

Prompto’s not hyperactive, he can stay indoors if they ask him to...the problem is his house.

Prompto gets easily anxious staying at home for too long. He spent his childhood locked away in there, isolated. No parents, no friends, nothing. He stayed locked away in what was the toughest moments of his life. He doesn’t hate indoors, he hates indoors at his house. It brings all of that back.

Prompto’s trying to keep all the lights on to make it less like in his childhood; gets easily guilty remembering the huge debt the King put himself into so he doesn’t have to pay for electricity and now he’s wasting it. 

Prompto gets easily anxious around food nowadays. Remembers it was staying indoors doing but eat what got him so fat and lonely.

(Prommy it’s ok, fat is not bad :(( this poor angel )

Honestly Prompto’s so busy emotionally stressing over being indoors at his house that the pandemic in the world isn’t even super concerning, it’s just as if there was a storm outside; he knows it’s bad and that not everyone can stay safe from it, but he’s just worried in his own situation at home.

His parents get to stay indoors with him for home office, which is as good as it is bad.

For some reason it’s not so comforting because it makes Prompto think of how absent they used to me. For some reason, it also IS comforting because unlike his childhood, at least they’re there now.

Prompto tries to make the best out of this and tries bonding with them when they’re not busy.

It actually works <3 They don’t get overly emotional or anything but they get to spend some good time together, watch movies, talk more, etc.

It helps Prom with the food issue that Dad does the cooking this time.

Good as his parents are with him during quarentine, it’s home, like the physical place what keeps gnawing at his emotional health.

Prom is going to try EVERYTHING to keep himself distracted. 

Iggy phones him constantly, which helps a lot. Noct videocalls him everyday, which really keeps him up.

Prom is taking BUNCHES of online courses and classes, bECAUSE THIS BOY LOVES DOING AND LEARNING STUFF

Week 6 of quareantine, Prompto has made his own jacket out of kitchen towels. It’s...actually impressive.

If he got sick, he too would be paranoid.

More than sad, Prompto would be openly scared and nervous.

EXTRA

The chocobros as a Four:

They’re having online video parties and meetings.

The four got a pizza each. They’re video meeting, and pretending it’s the same pizza lol

“YOU ATE THE LAST SLICE HOW DARE YOU, I TOLD YOU I WANTED IT!!! >:’‘(”

The guys are showing their quarentine achievements to each other.

“Look, I’ve let my feet nails long because I don’t need shoes anymore and I shaped them like I’m a dragon haha”

“Oi look, I learned a new trick with my yo-yo”

“Look how GREASY my hair is right now haha. what do you mean if I’m attending the national interview later like this, of course I am”

The chocobros are sending each other online courses that they think the others or one of them will like

They’re having one of those online movie in different computers together. 

Also multiplayer games because they can.

Ignis wins every time. 

The chocobros are playing a 4-members Squad mode in Battle Royale games. Noct and Prom are okay. Ignis is the Pro. Gladio is the bait.

Iris:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Cor: 

Cor is surprisingly calm about this.

Cor is spending his time meditating.

Cor has barely any paperwork, as his work is mostly physical, so he gets a lot of time free with Regis’ politics for a proper literally-no-need-to-go-out politics. Meditation that is.

Cor is phoning Prompto each now and then, too. 

Prompto would answer happily that he’s fine and with no virus. Cor finally once tells him he’s not asking if he’s ok about the virus. Prom needed no more explanation and just said he was ok, if a little sad.

Cor is working out at home.

Cor is getting bored.

Cor is reading, watching series, or meditating, or cooking just for the sake of it.

Cor just has one problem.  He’s a workaholic. You give him no work, this man starts slowly having a meltdown and descent into the abyss of madness. He needs to die of stress, how else do you expect him to live?

The first weeks were fine. After the first few weeks Cor starts getting anxious about needing work to do.

Cor you stupid thing 

Cor is starting to get distracted in meditation because he keeps getting anxious about working in something.

Cor starts phoning Regis.

“Do you have any paperwork for me now?”

This is every two days. 

Regis COULD have given him something. Regis doesn’t. Cor needs to learn to know how to be AT PEACE FOR FUCKING ONCE.

Cor is making paperwork up to work on lol

Cor was diagnosed with the virus. They put the virus in quarentine for its safety. 

#ffxv #chocobros #ffxv headcanons #final fantasy xv imagine #coonanswers #coonheadcanons #AYE BOY THIS WAS NICE TO ANSWER #hopefully i can nail some more around these times <3 #I'm really trying to turbo do my homework...not working so far but im trying lol #noctis #ignis #gladio #regis #prompto #cor

[miss-tc-nova]

Guide - Eraqus & Brain

Yes, I am currently subscribed to the “Brain is Eraqus’s grandpa theory.” When that bit came up, I knew I had to write this. AND, it was originally going to be a lot darker, but I spruced it up a bit and like this version better. 

~~~~~

              “The darkness will not win!” Wooden weapons clash.

              The boy with slate colored hair hits back. “Hiya!”

              While the defender stumbles back, he recovers quickly. He prepares to rejoin the fight but movement in the window catches his eye. There’s someone in his house—someone he recognizes.

              An enormous gasp leaves his mouth, startling his opponent. His weapon falls into the grass as the boy races for the backdoor. Little feet patter across the floor, rushing for the visitor.

              “Grandpa!”

              Granite eyes light up. “There’s my little sunshine!” Reaching down, he scoops up the giggling child who immediately reaches for that worn hat. “What have you been up to today?” he asks, straightening the headwear on the little boy’s head.

              “Me and my friends were playing Keyblade War but I saw you in the window!” he happily states, pointing out the open backdoor.

              “Friends, huh?”

              “Yeah! And—”

              “Eraqus!” A tiny, little blonde pokes her head inside.

              “Come back! We need you to make the teams even!” A white-haired boy runs in, skidding to a halt when he sees the stranger.

              Another girl, this one with silver hair and golden eyes, jumps in. “Are you comin’ or not?!”

              The enemy from earlier spots Eraqus in his grandfather’s arms and gapes. “M-M-Master Brain!”

              A third boy tilts his head of red hair, not very impressed at all. “Hermod, are you sure? He doesn’t look like a master to me.”

              Grandpa simply chuckles but Eraqus is not having his friend’s disrespect. “Yes he does, Bragi! This is my grandpa!”

              “Just because he’s your grandpa doesn’t mean he’s Master Brain,” Bragi huffs, still eyeing the man suspiciously.

              “You pea-brain,” the silver-haired girl snaps. “Teacher told us Eraqus is the grandson of Master Brain. So if that’s Eraqus’s grandpa, then that’s Master Brain.”

              His amber eyes widen. “Oh…”

              Hermod pushes a sheepish Bragi closer. “Say you’re sorry,” he whispers not so subtly.

              Now before a legendary master, the kid doesn’t seem so confident. “S-Sorry, sir.”

              Grandpa laughs, letting his grandson slip to the floor. “Don’t worry about it, kid; I’m not working right now. I just came to visit Eraqus, but I guess he’s already got visitors today.”

              If Eraqus had to pick his favorite person in the whole world, it would be his grandfather. He loves his mother and father but not the same way he loves this man. “But you can stay, right?” he begs, tugging on the jacket. “I want you to meet my friends!”

              “You do, huh?”

              Frantic nodding messes the wavy hair. He’d do anything to spend time with Grandpa and will take every chance given to show him off—not because he’s Master Brain, but because Grandpa is the best.

              “Alright. Do you want to introduce me then?” Grandpa says with a smile.

              His excitement is so great, his words run together in his already small mouth. “This is Bragi and Hermod and Urd and Baldr and Vor and they’re all in my class!”

              Children wave or comment at the mention of their names and then it’s Grandpa’s turn. “It’s nice to meet you all. I’m Brain. So you all want to be keyblade warriors, huh?”

              Baldr is the first to voice their dreams. “Yeah!”

              “We’re gonna be the best!” Urd agrees.

              “Oh ho? Even better than me?”

              Immediately, the little girl’s confidence falters into fear. “N-No sir! Never better than you!”

              A grunt escapes the man as he sits himself on the floor among the kids. “Now that’s not the right answer.” She appears even more distraught. “You should always aspire to be better than the generations that came before. If each and every one of you becomes better warriors than I ever was, then I know the future will be in good hands. So go ahead, be the best, and don’t stop until you are.”

              Urd’s frown turns into a beaming smile and the others start to catch her elation too.

              “Hey, do you have any cool stories about the Keyblade War?” Bragi asks, having recovered from his blunder as if it never happened.

              “Mmm, no, but I do have a great story about this giant Heartless that tried to destroy my favorite bakery.”

              Eraqus exclaims, “The one you beat while eating a tart?!”

              “Yes, that one.”

              “That one’s my favorite!” The kid excitedly sits down, staring up at his grandfather, one hundred percent ready to listen to another telling of his favorite story. Eraqus is an excitable, impatient child but when it comes to his grandfather, he would happily listen to the same story over and over again. Not only is Grandpa his biggest hero, but the relationship he has with his grandfather is the relationship he wishes he shared with his parents.

              The gaggle of children plop on the ground while Grandpa tells his silly tale of fending off a ferocious monster. Before long, the storyteller’s got every one of the rambunctious toddlers hanging on his every word, sparing time to answer excellent questions the curious come up with. Their little expressive faces show every bit of awe and delight as they listen, all the while Eraqus radiates pride.

              “Wait, how did you pay for the tarts if Master Lauriam took your wallet?” Urd asks, ever the perceptive one.

              Hesitation. “Uh…Well…”

              Vor gasps, “Master Brain! Did you steal them?!”

              “No! Nooooo!” Grandpa replies hastily. A warning finger points at them. “Stealing is bad and you should not steal from other people.”

              Eraqus tilts his head. “But didn’t you steal Master Ephemer’s coffee?”

              “No! I did not steal the coffee and when the fight was over, I made Lauriam pay for the tarts since he took my wallet!”

              “Did he steal it?” Baldr asks.

              The master seems to contemplate this new question. “…Yes. And stealing is bad.”

              His grandson decides it’s time for a different topic. “Will you tell us the story about you and Master Skuld and the giant trickster?”

              “You mean the Trickmaster.”

              “Yeah!”

              A hand raises. “What’s a Trickmaster?” questions Hermod.

              “Well it’s this really tall—”

              “Kids.” The interruption comes from the hall where Eraqus’s mother and two more women stand. “Vor, Baldr, your moms are here to pick you up.”

              “Aww!” the pair complain.

              Baldr protests, “But Master Brain was about to tell us about the Trickmaster!”

              “Yeah!” agrees Vor.

              “All you munchkins better listen to your mothers,” Grandpa warns them. “They’re doing their best to make sure you grow big and strong.”

              “Yes Master Brain,” they all drone, each of them having been taught to respect their elders. The unfortunate two scurry off to their mothers who say something before they come running back.

              “Thank you for talking to us.” Vor gives him a bow.

              Baldr follows her example. “Thank you, Master Brain.”

              “No problem.”

              As fantastic fables entertain those remaining, the toddlers are taken away, one by one, by parents until it’s just grandfather and grandson.

              “You got some exciting friends, kid,” Grandpa says, watching Eraqus return from bidding Urd goodbye.  

              “Yeah. They’re all really cool and they don’t treat me funny.”

              Grandpa nods, pushing himself off the floor. Eraqus can see something thrilling in those eyes. “That’s good. Now, you’ve got three seconds to run before I TICKLE YOU!”

              The boy takes off yelling with the man close behind. Shouting, a foreign phenomenon to the home, fills the silence while the pair rushes around in their game. Their antics lead them to Eraqus’s room where there’s running, roughhousing, mock sword fighting, and more fun than the kid has had since Grandpa’s last visit. This is his best friend who knows all his secrets because Eraqus isn’t afraid to tell him everything; even when he knows he’s done something wrong, he knows that Grandpa may scold him but will still be there to help him learn from his mistake. This is what every kid needs and this is the relationship he gets jealous of when he sees his friends with their parents: one full of respect, freedom, and love.

              “Dad.” Grandpa freezes, child above his head, looking to the doorway where his daughter looks on. “Don’t you have a meeting with the council?”

              Arms lower to drop the boy onto his bed. “Oh, right. Man, I forgot about that.”

              “I noticed,” she replies bluntly. “And Eraqus needs to work on his studies before he goes to bed.”

              Said child groans, tugging at Grandpa’s jacket, “Aww, do you have to go?”

              The woman opens her mouth to retort, but the man waves her off and she leaves them be. “Sorry kiddo. People are counting on me to make choices to take care of them. Plus, you heard your mom, you got studies to do.” Era gives a little pout and the man ruffles his grandson’s black hair. “Look, the next time I come visit, if your mom tells me you’ve been good, I’ll take you to see the citadel.”

              Oh he’s been dying to see that. “Where the keyblade warriors train?!”

              Grandpa grins. “That’s the one. But like I said, you gotta behave and do your studies like your mom asks.” A hand extends to the boy. “Deal?”

              The kid puts on a show of considering the offer but slaps his little hand into his elder’s. “Deal!”

              The stolen hat is taken, plopped back onto the owner’s head while they shake hands. “Alrighty then.” A warm, loving expression softens Brain’s smile. “You’re gonna be a great warrior someday, kid, better than me.”

              “You think so?”

              “‘Course I do. Always remember, may your heart be your guiding key.”

~~~~~

              Warm sunlight beats down on the bright world. Despite its dreary nature, the cemetery, too, is actually quite bright. The youth in white strides along the stone pathway, flowers in hand.

              Months ago, he stood in this very vicinity, in the deafening rain, trapped in a bubble of mourning. He cried and screamed and even blew up at the parents he’d never before disrespected. They didn’t understand; they still don’t but the whole thing has managed to blow over. Friends, acquaintances, and even his Master came with condolences, receiving a meager ‘thank you’ in return. Nothing made him feel better and he just couldn’t come to terms with the fact that such a powerful, legendary master—that his grandfather—was dead.

              And then he found the words carved into the headstone: “May your heart be your guiding key.”

              Even now, those words echo in Grandpa’s voice—the mantra he told the boy at least every time they parted ways. Those were his last words to Eraqus.

              Grandpa was the only person who seemed to understand and acknowledge his struggles. The pressure of nobility and responsibility often pressed down on Eraqus but somehow, his grandfather always gave him the support and courage he needed to endure those things. In the face of all his anxieties, it was always his grandfather reaching back to lead him through. Brain was everything Eraqus needed in his life. Even now, in death, he’s still managed to leave his grandson with the strength he needs to move forward.

              It’s because of these words that Eraqus became something his parents aren’t exactly proud of. He began shirking his studies and speaking his mind no matter the company—really the only thing that keeps them off his back is the fact that he’s still a pretty damn good student. Just because he’s happy doesn’t mean he can let his grandpa’s faith go to waste; he’s supposed to become a great warrior after all. But, following his grandfather’s words, Eraqus started becoming the person he wanted to be instead of the person he was expected to be.

              The boy sits down, resting the bouquet before the stone. From his pocket, he also presents a talisman—the mark of keyblade wielders, even those in training—which he finally earned today.

              “There’s so many things I want to tell you.” He expected the tears, but even so, he smiles. “But before I get to all that, I have to say thank you.” The sleeve of his haori drags across his face. “Thanks for guiding me, Grandpa.”

#eraqus #brain #kh brain #kh eraqus #grandpa brain

[irarelypostanything]

Operation Gamestonk

[A short story I may or may not have written while drunk]

Lewis’ entire family was slaughtered by the hated Hedge Fund Knights — they foreclosed his home, stabbed his parents, and set the manor on fire in less than a millisecond. This was the work to be expected of the Hedge Fund Knights: They could kill, flee, and rob people faster than their victims could comprehend. Even the Goldman Company warriors Lewis’ family had hired were beheaded…Lewis himself survived by some act of fate, God, or Satan. Regardless, he dedicated his life to vengeance. He made friends, shared stories, brokered alliances in the only form of currency he knew could match the violence he was grappling with. Lewis did not fight with a sword and shield, but with information. He built his own power on the back of blackmail and betrayal, and in time he afforded himself the opportunity to slaughter those who had wronged him.

But the Hedge Fund Knights returned with renewed vigor, the same way cancer was never truly gone. With nowhere left to turn, Lewis made his way to the one place no one could touch him.

Part I. The Big Short Squeeze

The Palace of Joe Rogan was protected on all sides by water and gorillas. Rogan’s island was fabled throughout the entire world for growing the finest mushrooms and the most exquisite weed. Here, thanks to Rogan’s diplomacy, there was no war. Visitors were free to negotiate as they pleased, but anyone who spilled blood on these sacred grounds was forced to smoke a blunt so potent, only Rogan himself had ever survived its vaporized sweetness.

The palace was made of gold. The armed gorillas who guarded the palace gates nodded to Lewis as he passed, lowered their guns, and stepped aside. Just outside the gates, Lewis could make out the outline of children attempting to catch a glimpse of what was inside. The courtyard featured a massive gorilla statue, along with a statue of their god: Elon Musk.

Rogan was in his chambers, drinking scotch and smoking a blunt. He recognized Lewis immediately.

“Sup, dude!” he said. “Have you ever tried to fight a gorilla?” Rogan was not a tall man, but in his mind’s eye Lewis could envision him sparring with a gorilla and winning.

“Another time,” said Lewis. “I come bearing gifts.” Lewis reached into his bag and produced two sculpted hands, both of them encrusted with diamonds. “Diamond hands.”

“Sick.”

“The time has come,” continued Lewis, “to speak to Musk, our lord and savior. You are the only entity capable of communing with Him, for your weed is powerful enough to summon even a god.”

“Okay.” Rogan crushed weed in his hand, then lined it on the ground in a Tesla logo. As soon as he finished, the powder turned to fire.

“This will take around 30 seconds,” said Rogan. “By the way, have you been in touch with my new friend, Lord Robinhood?”

“Lord Robinhood?” asked Lewis. “How did he become a lord?”

“Not sure.”

“Don’t you need to be rich to buy lordship? If his product is zero commision, how does Lord Robinhood make money?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Elon Musk was said to have been a bridge between gods and humans, someone who took a mortal form so that ordinary men could speak to someone they understood. Musk would end climate change, build a massive tunnel, and provide humans with immortality long before AI would have the chance to commit mass genocide. But the words of Musk were cryptic. When he spoke, it was through a medium. His words only came several characters at a time.

“Gamestonk,” said Rogan.

“What?”

“That’s all he said. Gamestonk. Do you know what that means?”

“I have to go.”

“Don’t you want to stay and talk about gorillas, first?”

Lewis would sail to his hometown, as quickly as he could, and when he got there he would send ravens to every great king, lord, and priest in the land. The time of reckoning had finally come.

Part II. The Diamond Hands

The city of Gamestop was lame and inefficient — you had to talk to a person to buy anything, and unlike the city of Amazon it had some really bad customer service. When Hedge Fund Knight Kenneth rode in, the Gamestop peasants treated him with scorn…for people so stupid, these ones learned quickly. Before they had time to flee, Kenneth had killed 20 of the town’s youngest children and left a still-bleeding head in the bed of each child’s respective mother.

Their mission was simple: They were going to pretend to supply Gamestop with stores of food and horses, when in reality their intent was to watch the peasants die. They had bet on it. If Gamestop withered and died, like they knew it would, the idiots in Burry would be forced to pay out their lost bet. The Hedge Fund Knights, in their frequent pillaging and raping, knew that it was only a matter of time before Gamestop fell.

But something was off today. Everywhere he looked, Kenneth saw mysterious markings that consisted of a diamond with hands. What did this mean? He caught a hooded man attempting to paint these symbols on a store. In an instant, Kenneth had him by the neck.

“What are you doing?” Kenneth demanded. With surprising force, the hooded man wriggled free. Kenneth drew his sword, produced a magical (and high) frequency, and teleported it direct beneath the hooded man’s throat. As soon as he attempted to make the killing blow, the hooded man grabbed Kenneth’s throat and threw him.

And just like that, in an instant, Kenneth was dead.

The hooded man discarded his robe. He had slicked-blonde hair, sunglasses, and a $20,000 suit. His hands, which had apparently granted him superhuman strength, were no ordinary hands. They were made of diamond.

Around him, the villagers could hear the dreaded high frequency of the Hedge Fund Knights. One by one, each knight reappeared to kill the troublemaker — just as quickly, each Hedge Fund Knight died.

“It can’t be!” said a villager, in disbelief. “Are you…are you with WallStreetBets?”

The man nodded. The first villager kneeled.

“Why are you kneeling?” asked the second villager. “WallStreetBets is nothing but shitposting dumb ass millennials. You know about as much about investing as your average 4Chan user does about being charming.”

“Forgive him!” cried the first villager, “he knows not what he says. I know of your the heroic actions of ControlTheNarrative, as well as your selfless box spreads! You are our saviors, and you are the only ones capable of saving us.

“Now tell me, oh great one, will you save us?”

The man nodded.

“Thank heavens! Musk be good! Will you take Gamestop out of its position?”

“I’ll take it to the moon,” said the man.

Part III. The Citadel

The forces of WallStreetBets were divided. For five days they had held against the combined forces of House Citadel and House Melvin, but their provisions were running low.

It was the afternoon. It was 100 degrees. Lewis thought that this blonde man’s sunglasses were fitting, but not his suit. He must have been sweating bullets.

“Options!” shouted a nearby fisherman, “get your options while they’re fresh!” Lewis ignored him, as did DiamondHands.

“You’ve managed to seize Gamestop,” said Lewis, “what’s your plan now?”

“Hold.”

“What?”

“Hold.”

Lewis was incredulous. Since the Robinhood embargo, a move some believed was the direct result of a bribe from the Hedge Fund Knights to Lord Robinhood himself, many of the WallStreetBets forces had died. Some had taken gold and fled, obviously benefitting from the attack without bearing the risk. Some, in fact the majority, had simply shitposted. They probably died, too, but no one could really keep track of that sort of thing.

“WallStreetBets is chaos,” said Lewis. “Some of you are brilliant, some of you are simply in for the ride. What was all of this for?”

“Hold.”

“Did you ever have a plan? Was this an act of vengeance, a self-interested coup for the sake of profit? What is this? What do you believe in?”

“Holding.”

“Your forces are dwindling. All of this might come apart.”

“It won’t come apart if we hold.”

Lewis looked out at the burning city, the diamond hands flags, and the flag of the shiba inu. He wondered what was coming next.

#fiction #short story #the big short squeeze #gamestop #hedge fund #robinhood #gamestonk #prose