#looks like I’m in the final quarter of the game anyway so I shall find out imminently (p4g)

[yhrite]

Feeling like a game’s plot is making it a bit too obvious who the culprit of a mystery is so I gotta start gaslighting myself and theorising who else it could possibly be instead so my wig can reach maximum velocity on the reveal snatch

#it ain’t gonna work but maybe the game is throwing some big red herrings #looks like I’m in the final quarter of the game anyway so I shall find out imminently (p4g) #blah #about

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(Clone Wars) Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader: Here to Stay a Little Longer

Author’s Note: In this fic, reader is a jedi who volunteers to care for an educate younglings in the order. Just wanted to say I know a few teachers and caretakers, and I just wanted to say the amount of respect I have for people who dedicate their time to little ones whether it be for a job or because their your own little ones!

    “Good work today.” 

    There was no stopping the affectionate smile that bloomed on your face as the youngling chirped in response to your affirmation.  You could sense his happiness at the lesson being over for the day.  He wanted to take a nap.

   “Me too, Grogu,” you sighed.  “Me too.”  He waddled over to you, and you lifted him into your arms.  Another jedi would be coming to take him back to the nursery for rest. 

   “___________?” a voice asked.

   “Hm?” you turned to see an elderly female jedi at the doorway to the training room.  “Oh, jedi Lilanou.  You are here to take Grogu back to his quarters?”

   “Yes, indeed,” she said with a smile, outstretching her hands.  They were weathered but ever so gentle as you transferred the tired baby to them.  He waved at you, and you laughed and waved back.  “Grogu will see you later this week for another training session.”

   “I will be expecting him.”  You nodded.  Grogu wasn’t quite like the other younglings.  He was more developed mentally for one so small, and he was much older than the others.  This meant he started training, but only a little since he was still a baby.  As Lilanou carried him away, you felt sadness creep its way into your feelings.  No doubt your attachment to the young one went beyond what it should.  You felt that way about most of the younglings you volunteered to look after and train before they became padawans and were assigned to mentors.  It was hard to let go when that time came, but the need for jedi to step up and help the next generation of younglings drew you in again and again.

   With the absence of Grogu, your afternoon was free.  The rumble in your stomach told you it was time for a meal.  You released a sigh and stepped out of the empty room into the vast halls.  Jedi walked to and fro, some in pairs while others had their noses in datapads.

   The sound of children’s laughter weighed your steps until you stopped altogether.  It was a collective laugh as if it was one shared by an entire class.  You started back on your way again before it rang out once more.  It was indeed a class that occupied one of the nearest training rooms, and from where you stood outside the doorway, you could hear Yoda’s voice instructing.

   “I’ll just stop in for a minute,” you said, grinning.  “Lunch can wait.”  As you approached, Yoda paused the lesson to meet your gaze.  As he greeted you, the younglings that were all seated in a semi-circle turned their heads to look in your direction.  Their faces lit up in recognition.

   “Ah, _________, how nice it is to see you,” Yoda said.  “Younglings, say ‘hello.’”

   “Hello!” they chorused.

   “Hello everyone!” you gave a nod of greeting before turning your gaze back to Yoda.  “I was just wondering if I could sit in on class today?  And maybe help if you need any assistance?”  It felt like a silly question to ask.  He was Yoda.  He’d been training many generations of younglings since long before you were born.  Nonetheless, his features softened as he motioned with his hand for you to enter.

   “Needing a lesson to refresh your memory, are you?” he joked in a good-natured way.  You chuckled as you took a seat on the far right of the semi-circle.

   “Something like that.”

   “Good, your timing is.”  He nodded.  “Discussing the process of constructing lightsabers, we are.  Perhaps, share with the class your experience, you could.”

   “That’s right,” you mused.  “Many of you are nearing that time.  Oh, yes Ganodi?”

   The Rodian girl lowered her hand, galaxy eyes averted shyly for a moment.  “Was it hard to build your lightsaber?”

   “It was a challenge,” you admitted.  “But it wasn’t meant to be easy.”  When you noticed her nervous expression, you added, “I’m sure you will do well.”

   “I’m excited to build mine!”  Petro exclaimed.  “I can’t wait!”

   “All in good time,” Yoda told the enthusiastic youngling.  “Anyway, back to our lesson, we should get....”

- - - - - - 

   After the class had been dismissed by Yoda, some of the younglings stuck around to talk.  Yoda walked over to you.  “Thank you for your help today.  Warms my heart, it does, to see your compassion and willingness to nurture the next generation of jedi.”

   You smiled.  “It warms my heart to see them so eager to learn.”

   After he left, you found yourself in the middle of a game of tag with the younglings in the classroom.  Katooni was “it”, and the rest of the group scattered.  She was fast for a youngling!  You raced past Byph, and he got tagged instead.

   “Sorry, Byph!”

   You were so captivated by the game that you hadn’t noticed a new presence.  “I thought I’d find you here.”  You skidded to a stop, looking over to see Obi-Wan Kenobi standing at the doorway.  Your heart did flips at the sight of that smirk of his while he stood there with his arms folded across his chest.  He had left on a campaign weeks before, and his return to Coruscant was a surprise to you.

   You turned to the group, who didn’t seem to notice him.  “Give me one second, guys.”  They continued to run around, and you walked over to the jedi, out of breath.  “It’s good to see you.  How are things on the front?”

   “Well, we were successful,” he replied.  That smooth voice was like music to your ears.  As you listened to him describe the gist of the mission, your mind wandered to silly little things like his velvety hair that shone in the light or his soft blue eyes or the way his lip quirked when he spoke.  It was just so nice to see him, to be able to take it in that he was there.

   “Sounds like an interesting time.”

   “Oh, no.  Not interesting in the least,” he said sarcastically, the shine of amusement in his eyes.  “How have things been here?”

   “Same as ever.”  You smiled and nodded in the direction of the younglings playing their game.  “These ones keep me occupied.  It’s not fighting Separatist battle droids, but…”

   “It’s an important duty.  I can hardly think of a more noble endeavor,” he told you, eyes looking distant and warm as the younglings’ laughter carried.  “I myself hope to dedicate more time to the cause.  I haven’t been as involved as I’d like to be.”

   “Well, we could always use the help.  Besides, you have become a sort of legend around here.”

   Obi-Wan’s brow lifted curiously.  “Is that so?”

   “It is, and you have Anakin to thank for that.  He stops by every now and then and shares a story or two about his and your adventures on the battlefield.”

   “That sounds like Anakin,” he sighed.

   “He’s an inspiration to the younglings, as are you,” you paused.  “To me as well.”

   “Obi-Wan!”

  “Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan!”

   The group began to gather around the two of you, their eyes wide with admiration and curiosity.

   “Well hello there,” he said.  “I was beginning to think I’d gone unnoticed.”

   “Where’d you go? Did you fight Grievous?” Petro’s questions poured out quickly.

   “Was Anakin there?” Zatt asked, tipping his head to one side.  “He said he was going on a mission too.”

   “Alright, alright,” you laughed.  “Let’s not overwhelm him.”

   “I’ll tell you all about the mission another time,” Obi-Wan assured them.  “For now, you might want to run.”

   “What?  Why?”

   “Because it looks like Byph is still ‘it,’ and he’s sneaking up behind you.”

   “Ahhh!”  They burst into laughter and screams as they scattered once more, leaving you and Obi-Wan chuckling.  One of the smaller younglings fell down in front of him.  He simply took her hand and gently pulled her to her feet.

   “Careful, little one.”  His warning was tender, and you watched the scene with heart thumping.  Obi-Wan was always good with younglings.  His kindly nature and humility made him quite popular. 

   He’d make a good parent, you thought.  Realizing where your mind was taking you, you shook your head.  That was hardly appropriate for one to think about a fellow jedi.  Romantic feelings were normal, but these were driving you to imagine a life with him outside the order.  You imagined a loving man with whom you could have your own children with.  The way he was gazing at you made you feel embarrassed, as if he sensed your thoughts.

   “___________?”

   “Yeah?”

   “Are you hungry?”

   You glanced down at your stomach as it gave another rumble.  Ah, right.  You skipped out on lunch to join the youngling class.  How embarrassing he heard that!  “Uh yeah, I missed lunch.”

   “I’m rather hungry myself,” he said.  “Shall we go get something together?”

   You nodded, smiling.  “We shall.”  You looked at the younglings.  “I’ll see you all soon.”

   “Okay, bye ___________!”

   “Bye Obi-Wan!”

   They headed out the door, their chatter echoing down the hall.  You walked alongside Obi-Wan on your way to get something to eat.  He was always pleasant company.  He walked with his hands folded behind his back and his gaze occasionally resting on you.  You had longed to see him again, but when the moment was finally there, you weren’t quite sure what to say.  Finally, you thought of something.

   “Did you need me for something?”

   “Pardon?”

   “You said you might find me there with the younglings,” you said.  “Does that mean you were looking for me?” 

   He opened his mouth as if he had a clever response, but his voice came out in a subtle stutter before he found the words. “I thought I’d pay you a visit since I arrived back on Coruscant.  I merely...wanted to see you.”

   “Oh, I see.”

   “Is that a problem?” The question wasn’t irritated.  His eyes searched you with genuine concern.  He had made it known that he sought you out for no reason in particular other than his enjoyment of your company, and he didn’t want this knowledge to make you uncomfortable.

   “No, no, not at all.”  You shook your head.  “I’m glad you did.  I’m pleased to see you.  It was only a few weeks, but it felt like so long.”  You went silent after that statement, unsure if you crossed a line either.  You were supposed to be a jedi free from attachment, and the last thing you wanted was Obi-Wan Kenobi to think you were needy.

   “I know exactly what you mean,” he muttered in agreement.  His eyes went to the floor in a way that suggested he had something on his mind.  The implication that he may have missed you too made you want to hide your face shyly, but you remained nonchalant.

   “When do you leave Coruscant again?”

   “Not for some time, I hope.  Like I said, I’d like to be more involved with training the next generation for a while.”  He glanced your way, eyes crinkling as he smiled.  “But my apologies, that means you’ll have to see more of me.  I know how much of a burden I am.”

   “Indeed.”  You returned the smile.  “How terrible.”

   The warmth between you two was unmistakable during the playful banter.  Part of you was thrilled that he would be around, that you wouldn’t have to say “goodbye” for a while.  The other part was worried what it might bring upon both of you.  If the two of you spent more time together with the younglings, it would do you no good as far as dismissing the attachment you had to him.  And what of the Council?  Would they take notice?

   Obi-Wan sat across from you at one of the long dining tables, and those doubts one-by-one went out the viewport.  He spoke about his mission away and then listened as you told him about some of your adventures on Coruscant.  Some involved your travels outside the jedi walls while others were about your daily struggles and victories with the little ones.  You told him of a youngling still in the nursery that ran off without their robes that you had to chase down and dress.  Fortunately the nursing droids had proper security so the youngling didn’t leave the nursery.  Obi-Wan’ laughter rang out clear as a bell as he tipped his head back at the outrageous tale.  Something fluttered in your chest as he lost himself in the humor for a moment before taking a breath and sighing.

   “Well it seems I have much to look forward to,” he chuckled.  “I recall once you said you wished you had some war stories to share, but it seems you do now.”

   “Some days it is a battle,” you agreed.

   “Believe me, I know.”  He gazed at you then, that glint in his eyes as he smiled tenderly.  You found yourself unable to look away.  It was like a magnet pulling you to him, and if there weren’t a table separating you, you might have even leaned in for a kiss.  It was like electricity crackling between you, and you had to force yourself to glance down at your now-empty tray.  The time working with Obi-Wan again would be interesting.  Even after only a few hours together, you felt that same pull that you fought for years.  You wondered how long you could go without giving in.  You wondered if he felt it as strongly as you did.  By the look flashing in his eyes as you leaned in ever so slightly to scoot out of your seat, you figured he might.

   An interesting time indeed. 

#clone wars #obi-wan kenobi #star wars obi-wan kenobi #clone wars obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #clone wars reader insert #star wars reader insert #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan #clone wars x reader #clone wars reader #obi-wan imagine #obi wan imagine #obi wan x reader #star wars: the clone wars

[allisondraste]

Announcing: Ambivalence

It has been exactly one year to the day since I published the final chapter of my Nathaniel Howe/F!Cousland long-fic, Temperance, and I could not think of a better time to unveil it’s first sequel, which I have had on the back-burner while I took a much-needed hiatus from writing. 

This will be a far briefer story than it’s predecessor, but tells an important part of Nate and Liss’ story.  

I hope you all enjoy!

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe x Female Cousland 

Story Summary: It has been just over a year since Nathaniel Howe and Elissa Cousland were reunited, childhood friendship forged into a love that endured a decade apart.  However, every love is tested at some point. Presented with circumstances that could either make or break their relationship, Nate and Liss are no different.

[AO3 Link]

Chapter 1: Pity and Pride

Chapter Summary:  It is no secret that there is trouble in paradise, and Nathaniel is quickly becoming tired of his friends’ concern.

Vigil’s Keep, Solace 9:33 Dragon

Sunlight poured into the room, undeterred by curtains carelessly drawn open the night before, forming a halo around the woman who lay next to him with bare limbs draped comfortably across his body.  It was rare that he awoke before her, rarer still to catch a glimpse of her sleeping peacefully, features unmarred by the nightmares that so often plagued her rest.  It was difficult to fret over their privacy when the uncovered window painted such a beautiful portrait.  How many years had he longed  for moments such as this, fleeting and perfect, always just out of his reach?  

And now Liss was there, snoring softly and tangled in bedsheets.  Unable to quell the urge to touch her, to make sure she was real, he reached forward and brushed a lock of hair from her face before allowing his fingertips to settle on her cheek.  She stirred, thick brows pressing together as her eyes flickered open, rich, brown, and sparkling with a groggy smile.

“Good morning, Nate,” she said quietly, voice hoarse as she shifted beneath the sheets and brought her hand up to cover his, an intricate ring glittering on her finger.  

“My love,” he whispered, allowing his eyes to blink closed just briefly.

Then, he awoke.

Nathaniel sighed as his eyes opened, not to a lovely sun-soaked room in Antiva, but rather to his own tomb-like quarters in Vigil’s Keep, with nothing but low-burning sconces illuminating the depressing stone walls and floors.  It was too cold, and he rolled over to be closer to the warmth of his bed partner, stretching out an arm to drape across her.

However, his arm fell only against a mound of blankets, his dreams having played a cruel trick on him once again.  This was not the first time in recent days that he’d woken up to find his bed empty, the woman who had lain with him the night before gone without a trace other than the turned back sheets and coverlet on her side of the bed.  In fact, it seemed that he woke up alone more often than not.

“Liss,” he asked the empty room, as if it could summon her for him, as if he did not know she was already up and running about the Keep pretending that everything was fine.

When the room did not answer him, he sighed and sat up begrudgingly, shivering as the chilly air met his bare skin, and slid out of bed.  Without any windows, discerning the hour proved difficult, yet he figured it was past time that he got ready and behaved as an acting Warden-Constable anyway.  

In peace, vigilance , and all of that.

A rustling from his closet drew him from his thoughts and his head darted toward the direction of the noise out of instinct.  Cautiously, he made his way over to the door and placed an ear up against it, hoping to get a better idea of what lay inside.

Meow .

Nathaniel sighed and shook his head as he opened the door, glancing down to a pair of bright green eyes examining him.  Ser Pounce-A-Lot was a ridiculous name for a creature who only ever snuck about and examined the world with cold calculation, pouncing very little, if at all.

“This,” he grumbled, stepping out of the animal’s way, “Is how curiosity kills your kind . ”

The cat tilted his head in an almost unnatural way before mewing again and sauntering forward, snaking himself around Nathaniel’s leg and purring gratuitously for several long moments.

“You are keeping me from my duties, Your Lordship ,” Nathaniel said, glaring down at Ser Pounce, who appeared wholly undeterred, before stopping, blinking up at him, and then chomping down on the back of his heel.  He hissed in pain and pulled away reflexively.

Reaching down to give the cat a scratch behind the ears, Nathaniel said,“Perhaps you were meant to be a war beast after all.”

Ser Pounce nuzzled into his hand, gave a final meow, and pranced out of the room as if nothing had transpired. He wondered how he had ended up caring for the damnable creature in the first place.  Then again, it was not as if Anders had been in any sort of condition to care for a pet when he fled the Keep, nor was Nathaniel certain Justice would have allowed him to.  He shook his head free of the disappointing, bitter memories of his friends. He had more pressing matters to attend.

It took him little time to dress himself in his Warden attire. The days had been short and peaceful since The Mother and her spawn were destroyed, yet he preferred to dress the part of a Grey Warden, armed and prepared for an attack at any moment.  In the aftermath of Loghain’s slanderous campaign against them, and with the decision to allow Amaranthine to fall looming over their heads, the Wardens had ample other enemies now, enemies that the Darkspawn threat had once held at bay.  Anything could happen.

Appropriately equipped, Nathaniel straightened his posture and stepped out into the hallway.

It was an odd experience to reside in his childhood home, yet on an entirely different floor and wing. When Delilah assumed control of the arling, she had kindly offered that he keep his old room, as part of the Howe family.  He promptly declined, having no fond feelings for the room to which he’d been unfairly banished more times than he could count.  Besides, he preferred to stay with the other Wardens, his new family.

Nathaniel made his way through several dark corridors and down multiple flights of stairs, feet guided more by muscle memory than sight, until he’d reached the ground floor.  He couldn’t say for certain he would find Liss in the great hall, but it was as good of a place as any to start.

The largest room in Vigil’s Keep, was the only room with any semblance of warmth.  One of the longest-standing, impregnable fortresses in Ferelden had no use for stained glass windows, open courtyards, or natural lighting of any kind.  His father had always declared that it was called a keep and not a castle for a reason, an underhanded criticism of the things Nathaniel pretended not to love about Castle Cousland when he was a child.

He scanned the space before him, nearly vacant with the exception of pages and scouts milling about waiting to be assigned tasks.  He thought to approach one of them to ask if they’d seen Liss, but thought better of it.  They likely had no idea who she was or what she looked like, and they no doubt had better things to do than participate in this unnecessary game of hide-and-seek.

“Morning, Nathaniel,” called a voice off to his side, a voice he did not particularly wish to hear at present.  He turned to see Alistair standing several feet away, wearing that lopsided, cheerful grin that usually occupied his face.  The younger man had thickened up slightly since they’d first met over a year prior, an effect of safety, security, and not carrying the weight of a Blight on his back.  He looked healthy and happy, and Nathaniel envied his ability to bounce back.

“Morning, Alistair” Nathaniel replied dryly.  He paused, eyes darting around the room in another cursory sweep before returning to the other man. “Have you seen Liss, by any chance?”

Alistair flinched at the question. “You mean, you  haven’t seen her this morning?”

“No.”

“Damn...” he shifted his weight, laughing nervously and bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his head, “I, um.. I haven’t seen her either.”

“Wonderful,” Nathaniel muttered, shaking his head.

“Listen, you know how she is,” Alistair said, placing a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder in what was undoubtedly an attempt at reassurance, a gesture of pity. “She probably just got one of those wild hairs of hers, ran off to the library in the middle of the night, and is now passed out under a pile of books.  I’m sure everything’s fine.”

Nathaniel blinked at him several times, then looked down to glare at the hand that was resting on his shoulder. “Uh…huh.”

The other man withdrew his hand awkwardly, frowning. “Sorry,” he remarked pointedly, holding his hands up in defeat, “Remind me to wait until you’ve woken up properly next time I decide to show you basic human decency.”

Nathaniel deflated at Alistair’s words. “No, I apologize.  I am just a bit tense as of late.”

“Yeah.” Alistair looked down at the floor and kicked at the stone with the toe of his boot before looking back up. “I know.  For what it’s worth, if I was in your shoes I’d… I don’t know what I’d do.  Probably fling myself into the nearest body of water.”

Nathaniel snorted derisively. “Thanks.”

“That sounded bad didn’t it? What I meant is--”

“I know what you meant.”

“Right.” Alistair let out a nervous laugh and shook his head. “I’m going to stop talking now, before I put my other foot in my mouth.”

Nathaniel offered him a hint of a smirk to indicate that there had been no real harm done, then teased, “I believe that is a wise decision.”

Alistair smiled in return and nodded. “Anyway, I was actually meant to inform you that the commander would like to speak with you. She’s in her study right now.”  

“I shall see her at once.”

“And if I run into our Dear Lady Cousland, I will tell her you were looking for her.”

“Please, do.”

Concluding his conversation with Alistair, Nathaniel headed immediately toward the corridor that led back to the commander’s study, the room that had previously belonged to his father’s portraits and trophies.  As a child, he’d spent many hours hiding away in that damned room, dreaming himself up a better father than Rendon would ever be.  He was grateful Lucia now occupied the space, her solemn kindness and humility painting over the history that had once lived there, and he hoped that with time, she would eliminate his father’s stain completely.

The large wooden door  was left slightly ajar, a small band of lamplight leaking out into the hallway.  He still stopped and decided to knock, rather than just entering as others would have.  Despite her open-door policy, he refused to startle her without need. Three quick raps, and he waited for her response.

“You can come in, Nathaniel,” she called just loud enough for him to hear her.

He pushed the door open and entered, laughing. “How did you know it was me?”

Lucia looked up at him with a hint of a smile. “You’re the only person I know who knocks when the door is open.”

“Right,” he replied, pressing the door closed behind him.

The young woman he called his friend and commanding officer stood bent over her desk, despite a perfectly adequate chair sitting just behind her.  She propped herself up with one hand flat on the surface of the desk, as she thumbed through pages of some antiquated tome with the other.  Though her long, dark hair was styled in a low ponytail, it still fell down and cast a shadow over her face.  Surrounding her were stacks of other old texts and scrolls.

Lucia had been rather consumed by research as of late. An unassuming journal had found its way into her hands, one with writings that had been identified as Warden-Commander Duncan’s.  In it, he had documented an encounter with their very own Architect.  She hoped the record would provide them with some valuable information about the unsettling creature, and it had.  But it had also made mentions of an unnamed Grey Warden, a mage, who was freed from her calling, tainted blood healed and unable to be re-joined.

Ever since, Lucia had been pouring over Grey Warden lore and history and manuscripts about obscure magics, no doubt searching for something they all wanted deep down: A cure.  As honorable as membership in the order sounded, the same power that granted them their Blight-stopping capabilities became an unbearable curse in peaceful times, each moment that passed one breath closer to The Calling.  The commander was so young, and he understood her newfound compulsion to find a solution.  She was not the only one struggling to cope with the reality of a Grey Warden’s fate.

“You asked to speak to me,” he stated tentatively, almost as a question.

Lucia’s gaze darted up to him, and she straightened her posture. “Yes, I did.”

“And?”

She walked around her desk to stand in front of him, piercing eyes searching his face for an answer to a question she had yet to ask.  “How are you holding up?”

A twinge of irritation sparked through him. “Holding up?”

“Perhaps it is presumptuous of me to say as your commanding officer, but we are also friends, and as your friend I feel obligated to point out that things with Elissa have been a bit… tense since you two returned from Highever.”

“That is presumptuous,” Nathaniel replied through his teeth, “Even as my friend.”

Lucia stood, unfazed and blinking. “You can be annoyed with my concern if you wish, but that won’t make it go away.”

“Your concern is wasted.”  His words were clipped, and he crossed his arms.  “I am fine.”

“Nate,” she urged him, dropping her typical formality and reaching forward to place a hand on his arm, a gesture of which he was quickly tiring.  Still, they were friends, and he wondered if it might give him some clarity to discuss the matter with the woman.

He opened his mouth, prepared to provide a more honest answer, but clamped it shut as a knock rang out on the door behind him.  He released the breath he’d been holding, never more grateful for an interruption.  

“Who’s there,” Lucia asked.

“It’s Liss.  I just spoke with Alistair, and he said you wanted to see me.”

Nathaniel glared at Lucia waiting for an explanation that she did not provide.  Instead, she released his arm and moved to sit down in the chair at her desk. “You can come in.”

The door creaked open slowly, and Nathaniel turned to see Liss.  She froze in the doorway when their eyes met, wincing as if his presence had inflicted physical pain. Then she blinked suspiciously between him and the commander before flashing a smile and bouncing into the room. ”

“Good morning, Lucia,” she announced cheerfully, as she moved to stand beside Nathaniel, giving him a confusing, playful nudge with her elbow. ”Hey Nate.”

“Now that you’re both here,” Lucia began formally, “I have an assignment for you two.”

“Oh?”  Liss perked up, and fidgeted excitedly.

“Some sort of Warden business, I presume,” Nathaniel asked, making every effort to hide both his discomfort and his relief.

“Yes. ” Lucia nodded.  “As you know, a new Junior Warden was transferred to us from the Warden Fortress at Montsimmard last week.”

“The woman from Kirkwall?”

“Her name’s Bethany,” Liss corrected with a quick laugh, “I met her in passing near the baths.  She didn’t seem too keen on having a conversation with me at the time.”

“Warden Bethany has been through quite an ordeal in the past six months,” Lucia explained, “She is an apostate who was living as a refugee in Kirkwall with her family after they fled Lothering during the Blight.  She was Joined by a contingent of Orlesian Wardens after an encounter with darkspawn in the Deep Roads.”

Nathaniel frowned and brought his hand to his chin. “The Deep Roads? What was she doing in the Deep Roads?”

“It seems pretty fortunate that she would have stumbled into a group of Grey Wardens, too,” Liss chimed in.

“It had nothing to do with fortune,” Lucia continued, words stern and direct.  She stood up, clenching her fists at her sides. “Bethany and her older sister were part of an expedition into the Deep Roads to search for artifacts and treasure, accompanied by one of our own, who provided them with confidential Warden maps to help them navigate.”

The palpable vitriol from Lucia meant one thing, and one thing only.

“Anders,” Nathaniel asked.

“Yes,” she responded defeatedly, “According to Bethany he’s been living in Kirkwall ever since he deserted, running some sort of healing clinic.  He is the reason they were able to find the other Wardens.”

“Wow,” Liss remarked, “That all seems uncharacteristically noble of him.”

“Uncharacteristic of Anders, perhaps,” Nathaniel stated, “But not of Justice.”

“Right.”  Lucia’s gaze was fixed on the ground, deep in thought.   She looked up at them before sighing and speaking again, “As unorthodox as it may seem to assign a mission based upon personal feelings, I believe my reasoning is sound.  Anders is still a Grey Warden, one who I conscripted, which makes him my responsibility. I would like for you two, along with Bethany, to travel to Kirkwall and pay him a visit. ”

“And do what exactly,” he asked, annoyed by what felt like a waste of time, “Drag him back to the Keep by his collar?”

“That would be a sight.” Liss chuckled at his side and he rolled his eyes. “Ten silvers he sets your little chin hairs on fire.”

“He would have to catch me first. Twelve silvers.”

She smiled and winked at him. “It’s a bet.”

“If I am being completely honest about my intentions, I just want you to check in on him, “Lucia continued more softly, paying no heed to their irreverence to the task, “Make sure that he is safe and warn him against sharing too many delicate Warden secrets.”

“So this is not “official” Warden business then,” Nathaniel asked.

“I’m not sure the Wardens ever do anything ‘officially,’” Liss stated flatly.

“This is just for my peace of mind,” Lucia answered with a sad smile, “Besides, I thought you two might enjoy some time away together.”

Her investment in their relationship shamed him, causing his face to flush.  Lucia had so many other things that she could and should have been fretting over instead.   He flicked his eyes over to Liss, wondering if she felt as he did.

She only frowned and shrugged out a reply.   “I could use a vacation.”

“Kirkwall is a shithole,” Nathaniel told her frankly, words more pointed than he’d intended,”It won’t exactly be a vacation.”

“Not with that attitude, it won’t be,” she chirped, not missing a beat.

“Will you go,” Lucia asked.

“Of course,” he replied, with a reassuring smile.  Liss nodded along with him.

“Thank you both.”  Lucia seemed to relax, and sat back slowly into her chair. “You all should prepare to head out to Amaranthine first thing in the morning.  I’ve arranged passage for you there.”

Nathaniel nodded in acknowledgement, noticing Liss do the same as she spoke, “Is there anything else you needed, Commander?”

“No,” she shook her head, “You are free to go.  Safe travels.”

When he turned to face Liss , she was biting her lip and appeared to be lost in thought, a small wrinkle between her brows.  It was ridiculous to ache for someone who slept beside him each night, to miss her.  And yet he did.  Maker did he miss her.  That their companions sensed some sort of tension between them was not inaccurate, and had he been honest with Alistair and Lucia, he would have admitted that things were not “fine.”  He just was not ready to broach the topic of what happened in Highever with anyone other than Liss, and she had been all but avoiding any opportunity they had to discuss it for the better part of two weeks.  

Shaking himself free of his own thoughts, he nudged Liss with his elbow and held his arm out to her.  There was no guarantee that she would accept it, but he would be damned if he did not offer it to her.  When she glanced over to him, then down at his arm, and back up to meet his gaze,  her face lit up, bright and warm, and relief washed over him.  Thank The Maker he could still make her smile.

Without hesitation, she looped her arm through his and blinked up at him expectantly. “Shall we?”

A quiet chuckle escaped him.  “Of course, my lady.”

Liss had always been adept at filling silences, or at the very least making them comfortable; however, as they left Lucia’s study together, arm-in-arm, an oppressive and awkward quiet fell over them.  Nathaniel was no stranger to uncomfortable silences, but to share one with Liss was an entirely new experience.  He racked his mind for anything to talk about that would not cause her to withdraw from him, but came up short.  Hopefully he would be able to suffer his own discomfort until they made it back to their shared quarters.

“So,” she spoke up suddenly, much to Nathaniel’s relief, “Kirkwall. Just the two of us… and that Bethany person, of course.  This’ll be fun.”  She held his arm more tightly and let her head fall to rest against his shoulder.

“You really think so,” he asked, amused at her optimism.

She pulled away suddenly to look up at him, a pain he did not intend to inflict buried in her expression. “You don’t?”

“That’s not what I—” he paused, immediately frustrated and attempting to keep his composure— “It wasn’t meant to be serious.”

Liss continued to glare up at him, tears welling in her eyes, and he did not have a shred of an idea how to respond.  She had never been a rational person, but this was a bit extreme.  He squeezed and released his hands at his side as he fought the urge to reach out to her.  

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she muttered, looking down at the ground, “You’ve done nothing wrong.  I’m just—”

“Liss,” he urged, hoping that she would finally open up to him, give him some clue as to why she kept pushing him away and erecting walls between them that had never been there before.

“Nate,” she whispered, a single tear falling from her lashes and rolling down her cheek.

Without thinking he reached forward to wipe it away with his thumb, allowing his hand to linger on her cheek.  Her gaze softened at the touch, and for a moment he thought her defenses might falter, that she might let him in.  She brought her hand up to cover his, briefly allowing her eyes to flutter closed.  When she opened them again, there was steel in her expression and she grabbed his hand, gently pulling it away from her face.  With that, he withdrew his hand completely and stared back at her in disbelief, jaw clenched.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded, voice hushed, “Please.”

“I can’t… do this right now.” She shook her head frantically, emotions barely held beneath the surface. “I’m sorry.”

“This is not something you can run from and hope it disappears, Liss,” he replied tersely, his frustration getting the better of him, “You can’t keep avoiding me.”

“I’m going to get some air,” she snapped, indignant and completely ignoring his remarks, “We can prepare for our journey after I come back.

“Liss, wait—”

“I’ll talk to you later, Nate,” she interrupted as she turned to walk away toward the front door.

They had done this dance too many times for him to be taken aback or even confused.  No, the only thing he felt at the moment was exhausted.  Countless times since they’d returned, he’d tried to get her to discuss how she was feeling, or to at least listen to how he felt, but she’d consistently found excuses or other ways to escape an actual conversation.  It was ridiculous and immature, and he was at a complete and utter loss.  

Ego bruised and chest aching, he made his way over to the bench along a nearby wall and sank down, resting his elbows on his knees as his face dropped into the palms of his hands.   What was he to do next except give her space and hope that things would be sorted out with time?

His ruminations were cut short as his ears caught the distinct shuffle of footsteps that slowed to a stop as they neared him and a hushed murmur of women’s voices.  He could not make out what they were saying, but the voices were familiar, and it was obvious they were attempting discretion and failing miserably.

“You two are not subtle,” he said with a sigh as he looked up to see the elf and dwarf blinking at him sympathetically, a look that had become all too common since he’d returned from Highever.  Did people sincerely believe him to be so pitiable?  His friends, especially, should have known better.

Velanna glanced between Nathaniel and the empty space beside him on the bench, brow furrowing slightly as she asked, “May I?”

“Be my guest,” he replied motioning to the seat, then letting his head fall to his hands again briefly before sitting up straight and watching as she sat down beside him.  Sigrun remained standing, but moved to lean against the wall.

Nathaniel glanced from one to the other several times, noting their heavy silence and persevering looks of pity.  He settled on Velanna, whose pinched expression he presently found the most irritating and asked, “Is there something you wished of me? Or do you intend to continue staring at me as if I were a lost puppy?”

“We are not—” Velanna began to retort, words echoing off the walls.  She sighed and continued more quietly, “We are simply concerned for you.”

“There is no reason to be concerned for me,” Nathaniel protested, “I am fine.”

“Hah,” Sigrun interjected, laughing, “You don’t think we’re going to buy that, do you?”

“You don’t have to,” he retorted sarcastically, turning to face his other friend, “I am offering it to you for free.”

“Come on, Nate.  We’re your friends, and we know better,” she pressed, “Besides, with the way you’ve been moping about the Keep these past two weeks, there are lost puppies I feel less sorry for.”

He bristled at her words, muscles tensing as he clenched his fists.  Just as he was about to snap, Velanna’s hand fell on his shoulder and his gaze darted back to her instead.  

“ Lethallin ,” she said firmly, a word from her own language.  She’d once told him it was a term of endearment for her People, one used to signify the closeness between friends.  He relaxed slightly, and she withdrew her hand to rest on her lap. “Was it not you who once told me I needed to stop viewing every expression of sympathy as a personal attack.?”

“That does sound like something I would say.” Nathaniel shook his head, snorted out a laugh, and slouched forward.  “I can’t say I expected that to come back and bite me in the arse.”  

It was silent for several beats, then he continued, apologizing for what seemed like the thousandth time in just an hour or so.  “I am sorry, truly. Everyone is so concerned about me, and I know that I should be appreciative, but... if I am being completely honest, it’s humiliating.”

“That is…” Velanna said, “Understandable.”

Sigrun nodded her agreement. “Definitely.”

“I—” he began to speak again, but was interrupted by the loud bang of a door slamming back against the wall.  Several scouts and pages gasped in surprise at the form that entered the hall, battle axe slung effortlessly over his shoulder.  “Nevermind,” Nathaniel muttered quickly.

“Never fear, Ol’ Oghren’s back and better than ever,” Oghren shouted at the far end of the hall as the door slammed closed behind him.  He appeared to scan the room, perking up when his gaze met Nathaniel’s, and immediately sauntering over to the bench.

Velanna sighed and rolled her eyes as Sigrun straightened up to wave and greet him.“Hey Oghren!  How’s the family?”

The dwarf had been away for just over a month visiting with Felsi, and their brood.  Ever since the turmoil in Amaranthine had ended, and most of the resulting mess cleared up, he’d been taking intermittent leave to be a more present husband and father.  He was certainly rough around every edge, but he was trying to be better, and that was admirable.

“Oh you know, same ol’, same ol’,” he answered jovially, stopping as he stood just a few feet away from the rest of them.  He brought one hand up and stroked his elaborately-plaited auburn beard proudly. “Felsi’s expectin’ again.”

“Maker’s Blood, man! Are you intending to father a legion?” Nathaniel exclaimed with a laugh that was cut short by a sudden realization.  He squinted at Oghren and continued, “Wait. Congratulations and all, but... how is that even possible?”

Oghren shrugged. “Beats the shit out of me. The Commander told me Grey Wardens weren’t s’posed to be able to… y’know...”

His words trailed off into a low chuckle and he waggled his eyebrows, eliciting a groan of disgust from Velanna.  At the same time, a mischievous smirk crossed Sigrun’s face and she tilted her head, crossed her arms and said with faux innocence, “No, Oghren, I actually don’t think we know.”

“Do not encourage him, lethallan ,” Velanna scolded, standing up as if preparing to escape.

To Nathaniel’s surprise, Oghren ignored the opportunity to pop off with an inappropriate joke, and instead looked at him, a hint of a genuine smile sparkling in his eyes, but hidden beneath his beard. “So, Howe, I figure congratulations are in order for you too, eh?”

Nathaniel stiffened, heart sinking like lead into his abdomen.  He shook his head and let out a laugh that was more bitter than he had hoped.  “No.  No that won’t be necessary.”

“Wait… what?” Oghren scowled and examined Nathaniel for a moment before protesting. “Don’t tell me you changed your mind?  Didn’t take you to be a chickenshit.”

“I didn’t.” Nathaniel stood up abruptly at the words, startling the others. “And I’m not.”

“Shit, I—”

“I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Nate,” Sigrun said gently, grabbing his arm.

He shrugged her off and stepped away. “I should go prepare for my trip to Kirkwall.”

“Nathaniel,” Velanna urged him, “Wait.”

“Thank you for talking with me,” he said flatly, glancing between Velanna and Sigrun, then over to Oghren, “It is good to have you back, my friend.”

“Yeah… sure.”

With that, Nathaniel gave his friends a nod, and turned to make his way to the nearest stairwell, heart racing as he struggled to remain calm.  

“What crawled up his breeches,” he heard Oghren ask behind him.

Nathaniel did not linger to hear Velanna and Sigrun brief Oghren on the events that had transpired while he was away.  He did not need to be reminded.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age origins awakening #nathaniel howe #nathaniel howe x cousland #my writing #ambivalence tag

[afeb]

Fred Weasley - Stress Reliever

“And the winner is...Hufflepuff!” It seemed there was an equal amount of cheers and groans in the crowd, the Hufflepuff Quidditch team proudly holding up the trophy next to the Gryffindor team.

From the stands I could see Fred, and if I didn’t know any better anger was simmering in his belly until something (or someone) made him pop.

“Oh Merlin,” I said to Hermione. “I’m not gonna stop hearing about this for months.”

“Good luck.” She shyly smiled as we began leaving the stands along with everyone else.

Usually I waited for Fred in the Great Hall after a game, he’d come bounding in with a smile on his face, because usually he won. But this was no usual day, and as such didn’t deserve usual treatment.

I waited outside the boys locker room, listening intently to Oliver giving the boys an earful about how “it was bloody Hufflepuff...what happened?!”

The boys came out, sulking one by one, until finally Fred came out. He was talking to George, who had an equally sour expression on his face, and his eyes found me. His jaw clenched as he muttered something to his brother before coming over to me.

“Hey Freddie.” I chirped, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Hey, Love.” He grumbled in response, dropping his duffel bag and wrapping his arms around my waist.

I was lifted in the air as he buried his head into my neck, letting a deep, sorrowful sigh. I wrapped my arms around his neck and soothed my hands over his hair.

“I thought you played wonderfully.” I mumbled gently.

“Not well enough.” He said back, setting me on the floor and peering down at me. “When did I get so shit.”

I frowned. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

“I am though, aren’t I? Fucking Hufflepuff!” He yelled angrily.

“Hey! Don’t take it out on me.” I snapped back.

He rolled his eyes. “Like I could talk to you about this anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The only thing you fucking do is read and talk to the girls about me.” He scoffed. “You’re hardly an intelligent person to talk to about sports.”

My mouth fell open, and his eyes immediately widened. “Well then...this unintelligent person will just go away then.”

“That’s not what I said.” He snapped.

“Merlin, it’s a stupid game Fred! Get a grip!” I yelled before storming away.

I heard him call after me, but I ignored him and muscled my way through the crowd boys, all sulking their way up to the castle.

“Y/N?” I heard George say.

“What?” I snapped as many ‘oohs’ erupted from the Quidditch team.

“Nothing...jeez.” I turned back and made my way to the dorm room, where I proved Fred right and bitched to the girls about our fight.

It was later than evening and Fred had made no effort to apologise to me, I opted to sit away from his at dinner and grumbled over my meal. I was half listening to Lavender when a piece of paper hit my head. My head snapped to see who had thrown it: Fred. He nodded at the paper, urging me to look.

‘Meet me in the Secret Meeting Room, 11pm - Freddie x’

I rolled my eyes and tossed the paper next to me, looking over at Lavender who hadn’t stopped talking.

“Psst,” I ignored Fred. “Y/N.”

“What?” I snapped.

“Did you see my note?” He asked, his friends looking at me intently.

“Yes.” I said back, rolling my eyes.

“And?”

I groaned. “Jeez Freddie, fine.”

He nodded and went back to his friends who patted him on the back. After dinner I stayed up until 11, and I decided I’d teach him a lesson and be late. At quarter past I got up and made my way to the Secret Meeting Room. Once safely inside, I saw Fred standing in the middle of the room, nervously pacing.

“I thought you weren’t going to come.” He confessed when he saw me.

I shrugged and folded my arms. “Given how rude you were, I had a mind to.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things. You are intelligent, much more than me.”

I stared at him for a moment before dropping my arms. “You need to learn to control your temper, it worries me how easy it is for you to snap and say something horrible.”

“I know...” he mumbled. “Forgive me?”

I tugged him close to me and wrapped my arms around his waist. “Of course I forgive you.” I said, pressing my cheek against his chest. “I’m sorry I said it was a stupid game, I know how much it means to you.”

His arms wrapped around my shoulders and he planted a heavy kiss on my head. “It’s fine.” He mumbled. “I’ll learn how to control my words.”

I looked up at him. “Please.”

He leant down and pecked my lips before melting them against my own, my hands snaking up his chest and wrapping them around his neck. His tongue swiped over my lip before prying them apart, dancing slowly with mine.

A small moan escaped my throat, causing Fred to place his large hands under my thighs and hoist me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pressed me against a near by pillar, trailing his lips down my neck and sucking on the sensitive flesh.

“Use me.” I moaned.

He pulled back and looked at me. “What?”

“I know you’re frustrated about the game...so use me.”

I slowly slid down his body as he loomed over me. “Do you know what you’re asking, Little Girl.”

My legs twisted at his words. “Don’t think I can handle it, Daddy?”

Suddenly his hand was around my throat as he forced me against the wall. “Let’s see, shall we?”

His hand went up my skirt and pushed my underwear to the side, his eyes intently watching me as his fingers quickly found my bundle of nerves.

My eyes widened as my mouth dropped open, small whimpers leaving my lips. A smirk graced his lips as he moved to ease his fingers into me, two at first and then adding a third.

“Just warming you up.” He whispered. “Gotta make sure that pretty little pussy can take my cock.”

“Oh Freddie.” I whined.

He pulled his hand from my underwear and immediately sucked on his fingers, closing his eyes and letting out a long, deep moan leaving his lips.

“I’ve got to taste you properly.” He demanded

He dropped to his knees in front of me, large hands splayed over my thighs as he gently pushed them apart. He kissed the skin, easing my skirt up and looping his fingers around my underwear and tugging them down.

He wasted no time and immediately licked a bold stripe up my centre, causing a high pitched moan to escape my mouth. My hands immediately buried into his hair and tugged, rocking my hips against his tongue. His hand slapped my thigh as a warning to behave, and I whimpered at the harsh contact.

He stood to his full height, lips glistening with me. “Behave.” He lowly said.

“Sorry.” I blushed.

His lips tenderly pressed to mine. “Good girl.”

He spun me around and pressed my chest to the wall, lips finding my ear and gently tugging on the lobe with his teeth. I heard his trousers unzip and gasped as he ran his tip over my exposed core.

“Ready?” He hummed into my ear.

“Please.” I whimpered.

He moaned as he pushed into me, hands coming to box me in and rest against the wall in front of us. He bottomed out, head falling onto my shoulder as he groaned.

“So fucking tight.” He swore, kissing my neck as he pulled out.

His pace soon quickened as he leant back, hands harshly holding my hips, surely leaving a bruise in the skin. His moans and groans grew louder and louder as he brought me closer and closer to the edge.

“Oh Freddie!” I whined. “I’m gonna-please!”

Suddenly he wrapped his arms around me and brought my back to his chest, lips against my ear. “That’s it honey, cum on daddy’s cock. You’ve been such a good little sex toy for me, come on...come on.”

His words forced me over the edge as I moaned deeply, my hands squeezing his forearms tightly as he continued to rut into me. My head tilted back, my shaky legs struggled to keep me upright as Fred chased his own release.

“Please Freddie.” I whined.

He groaned. “Want it? Want my cum in you?”

“Yes!” I squeaked.

“Such a little slut for my cum, you’ve earned it Honey.” He suddenly pulled out and spun me around, forcing me onto my knees. “Open.”

I dropped my jaw and stuck out my tongue, Fred resting his tip against the flat surface and began rubbing his cock. I batted my eyelashes at him, and he came with a moan, spilling ropes of cum into my mouth.

He quickly grabbed my jaw and leant down so our faces were close. “Swallow.” He lowly demanded.

I did as I was told and smiled brightly up at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, love.” He pecked my lips and hauled me up, wrapping his thick arms around me.

“Feel better?” I cooed.

“Much, you’re my very own personal stress reliever.”

#fred #weasley #fred weasley #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #james #phelps #james phelps #james phelps angst #james phelps fluff #james phelps smut #harry potter #draco

[yakocchi]

My Darling’s the Strongest (Scenario Event) // Leonardo

(graphic is separate from the event)

me: wow i wonder what cool and amazing new content there will be for white day week cybird: we heard from no one that u like reprints that only have new ranking avatars. so heres another reprint that only has new ranking avatars me:

…….cybird it’s ok to not make every event have ranking cards. yea i know they make gangbusters versus events without cards, but if it results in less new scenario events overall… that’s not great

anyway, it’s been like 4 months since a new Count scenario event has been released (which is a better track record than several charas) and i wanted to do a longer string of text to test out a keyboard i ordered. yea im very fickle with my output but ehehe what’s new i archive leo events sometimes, so i decided to dredge one up to translate. i actually wanted to do vlad’s first post-main-route event as a sort of celebration for when it would inevitably happen, but then said scenario event appeared and it ended up being an AU. why does this game like AUs so much? the canon universe already pretty farfetched… u literally have dracula and ure telling me u would rather put him in a situation where he would not be dracula. cowards

This event (first released ~July 2020) was made for the 3rd Anniversary of JP Ikevam later that month. The event was split into two parts, where iirc the first part contained the Count, Arthur, and Mozart. Leo was in the second part with Napo and Isaac.

Spoilers under the cut!! Please credit if you take any of it, thenk u (･ω･*) image-heavy!!

…

The master of the manse, from time to time, starts his conversations with the most unexpected topics. One of those “times”, was today.

...

[Count]: “—So, I’d like the two of you to go out for the Best Couples’ Contest.” [Leonardo & Kara]: “Huh…?” As soon as we had excused ourselves into his quarters, the Count had said something completely unexpected. Leonardo and I had responded with a confused noise spilling out of our lips. (The “Best Couples’ Contest” is that event where they pick the best couple in Paris, right?) (I wonder why he suddenly decided to say he wants us to go.) Even as the two of us stood bewildered in front of him, the Count’s smile remained, untarnished. Leonardo then heaved a massive sigh…

[Leonardo]: “Now, I’m used to you telling me crazy things—" [Leonardo]: “But at the very least, could you give us the entire story, O’ great Count?” The Count began to speak once more—

[Count]: “Well—” [Count]: “Last night, I had visited an acquaintance upon them telling me that they had gotten their hands on some good wine.” [Count]: “At one point, they informed me that they were going to hold a contest to determine the best couple.” [Count]: “Then, they asked me if I was acquainted with any prospective couples for it.” Leonardo then took over from Count as if he had read this story before.

[Leonardo]: “Then, in your drunken state you selfishly entered me and the little sweetheart to the contest, did you?” (And that means… the Count thinks me and Leonardo would have a chance?)

The Count responded to Leonardo’s summation of the events with apparent amusement. [Count]: “I do believe I wasn’t drunk at the time, I’ll have you know?” [Leonardo]: “That’s even worse, then.”

[Count]: “Oh my, Leonardo. Is it really all right for you to say that?” [Leonardo]: “Hah?” [Kara]: “gh-…” The Count had turned in my direction— and so Leonardo, as if in pursuit of the gentleman, then turned to face me as well. Their gazes seemed to urge me to confess my true feelings on the matter, and I earnestly comply.

[Kara]: “Ah-, I… I just thought it sounded fun.” [Kara]: “And on top of that, I’d be really happy if everyone acknowledged me and Leonardo as the best couple.” (Even though I’d be nervous to stand in front of so many people,) (I’d be able to boast that such a wonderful person is my lover…) (And I also think it’d be a good opportunity to see if I’m able to become a suitable woman for Leonardo.)

[Leonardo]: “…” A surprised expression appeared on Leonardo’s face for a moment, before it was replaced with a smile…

[Leonardo]: “Shall we partake?” [Kara]: “Huh? Is it okay?” I had blurted out my question, and Leonardo gently patted my head. [Leonardo]: “This situation’s turned into nothing but a good opportunity, so we might as well have some fun and aim to win this thing, yeah?” [Kara]: “gh- Okay…!” Glad that Leonardo was also interested, my voice naturally gained a bounce to it.

[Kara]: “But, I wonder how they’re going to determine the best couple?” Muttering this, the Count then handed me the invitation, which had a general outline of the event written inside. Promptly opening it, written was—

(The contest is to be a few days from now, and I can look forward to what we’ll be tested on… on the day itself?) The portion I wanted to know about most of all hadn’t been written, and I internally slumped my shoulders.   The invitation concluded with a single line— “The key to victory is to have a mind and soul of love towards one another,” (I guess the ‘mind and soul of love’ is supposed to be a hint, but…) [Kara]: “Hmm… With just this, I don’t know what the contest could be about, at all.” [Leonardo]: “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart.” (Huh?) Leonardo brought his face up close to the Count… And as if he had devised a scheme, a mischievous smile had turned the corners of his lips. [Leonardo]: “You’re close with the contest organizer, right? I’m led to believe that they have some sort of hint on ‘em.” [Count]: “Leonardo…?” [Leonardo]: “We may have willingly chose to participate in the contest— but it doesn’t change the reality that it was our lovely Count who dragged us into this in the first place.” [Leonardo]: “So, naturally, you’re gonna cooperate with us, no?”

As a result of forcing the Count (against his will) to spill the details, we were able to make a guess on what we’d be doing in the contest. But…

most everyone else in this event: (thinking hard on what to do bc they dont kno what the contest is going to cover) leo: fuc it CHEAT

…

[Leonardo]: “…” (…Leonardo has an awfully complicated look on his face right now.) In my mind, I think over our discussion from a moment ago:

The organizer of the couples’ contest appears to have hosted several dance contests as well. To put it plainly, the organizer is both a huge socialite and a huge fan of dances. (So, individuals are called from high society circles to be chosen as the “best couple”, and) (The probability of competing based on our dancing… is high.)

[Leonardo]: “Hagh…” [Kara]: “…Hehe.” Seeing Leonardo’s pouting face, I unwittingly laughed. Then— [Leonardo]: “What are you laughing for, sweetheart?”

[Kara]: “I just remembered something from back before we became lovers.” The conversation of that day, the day where a weakness of his had been exposed, replayed in my head—

…

[Leonardo]: “…I can’t dance.” (Huh…?) [Kara]: “You’ve got to be kidding, right…? You can build and play instruments, and yet…” [Kara]: “Is it because you don’t go to many socialite parties to begin with, so you haven’t had many opportunities to dance….?” [Leonardo]: “No, I’ve participated in ‘em the point where I’ve even had a hand in producing those sorts of dazzling venues.” [Kara]: “’Producing’…” (This person really can do anything and everything. No, no, that’s not true…) [Kara]: “Leonardo, the mystery that surrounds you is only getting deeper and deeper.”

[Leonardo]: “I avoided having to do it.” [Kara]: “…’Avoid’?” [Leonardo]: “…Try to imagine it. Me, dancing?” [Leonardo]: “It doesn’t suit me, I don’t have the look required for it…” (…What… is this?)

[Kara]: “…Hehe, ahaha!” [Leonardo]: “…Hey, sweetheart. What are you laughing for?

…

(He said the same thing back then.) Unable to hold it in, I continued to giggle… [Leonardo]: “Don’t laugh.” [Kara]: “I think you’re the one smiling here, though?” [Leonardo]: “…I’m just feeling terribly nostalgic right now.” Answering me, his eyes held a gentle light within them as if cherishing those days, [Kara]: “You still hate dancing, I assume?” [Leonardo]: “Even to this day, I find it embarrassing to do. Radiant, cheerful stuff doesn’t mesh with me. But—" (Huh?)

The second I wondered if Leonardo was going to start something, he suddenly pulled my waist towards him for an embrace… [Kara]: “Woah, woah-…!” Regaining my senses— Led by Leonardo himself, I properly danced. [Leonardo]: “I’m able to dance like the average person now— and it’s all because you came to keep me company.” While I was still surprised, Leonardo dropped a light kiss on my forehead. [Kara]: “Nn-…” Flustered, I looked up to find a completely composed smile on his face… [Kara]: “…ngh-“ An impulse overwhelming me, I lean my head against his chest.

[Kara]: “…Sly as usual.” [Leonardo]: “Hm?” [Kara]: “Even though I thought I had finally found a weakness of yours, you’ll get over that hurdle too pretty soon.” [Kara]: “When you do things like that, you become sly so smoothly, exquisitely.”

(When he shows this side of him… I get driven to work even harder than before so I can catch up to him.) While even feeling a frustration from it, I turned my gaze back to Leonardo.

[Kara]: “It seems like this world is going to become one where there’s absolutely nothing you can’t do.”

[Leonardo]: “…Maybe?” (…Hm?) For a second it felt as if he were pondering over something, a particular emotion washing over his face.

But before I could say anything, I was swiftly embraced, and that thought of mine scattered, and vanished. [Kara]: “l- Leonardo?” [Leonardo]: “Hey, look there, sweetheart.” (Huh?)

Following Leonardo’s gaze— I could see the dusk dying the sky from a distance away. (Pretty…) The view that he showed me, was beautiful.   But, at the same time… my chest was tightened by this sorrow. (Although the scene before our eyes is the same between us, time passes differently between us…) (During moments like this, I feel that difference.) (However— When we became lovers, I had decided that no matter how different we are, I’m going to embrace the present, make the most out of it.) (I’m going to savor even the passing seconds, cherish them… as we live together, as two.)

As if to confirm he was really there, I embraced his warmth in return… [Kara]: “Leonardo, I’m looking forward to the contest.” [Leonardo]: “Mhm.” In the vivid sunset, we smiled to each other.

…

—Time passed, and the night of the contest arrived at last.

…

(W-Wow…) When we had entered the venue in our formalwear, there were several couples eagerly waiting for the contest to start. (All of the people here have to be participants for the contest, huh. …Somehow, my heart’s pounding.) I took a deep breath to calm myself down, and when I did that— Leonardo, as if to soothe my heart, lightly stroked my hair. [Leonardo]: “Why is it necessary for you to feel all anxious?” [Kara]: “Leonardo?” [Leonardo]: “To the point where there’s just no way we can lose to any couple here— I love you, you know.”

[Leonardo]: “—Well, and you?” Inquiring me, his smile was brimming with self-confidence… And caught up in his mood, I smiled cheerfully.

[Kara]: “I love you too— to the point where it’s impossible for us lose to anyone…!”

[Leonardo]: “Heh… Very nice, then.” [Judge]: “—And so, the contest shall begin now. The means of competition is to be by dance.” (Ah-…!) We look to each other, and Leonardo, extending his hand towards me, says, [Leonardo]: “Kara… You’ll do me the honor of a dance, no…?”

PREMIUM END

[Kara]: “Yes, I’d be delighted!” (Even though I was so nervous about this until now… Now, I can’t help but just be excited about it.) (I want everyone to quickly feast their eyes on our dancing, and our bond!) Taking his hand, I nestled close to him as an elegant melody began to echo within the dance hall. To become a flower that offsets the man before me, I step forward—

…

—When the contest had ended without a hitch, the both of us walked along the moonlit Seine as we made our way home. The chilly breeze felt pleasant on my heated skin. [Kara]: “We really were able to win!” (I was able to prove my bond with Leonardo to all of Paris… I’m so happy that I can’t stop a smile from showing on my face.) [Leonardo]: “I did say we wouldn’t lose to anyone, didn’t I?” [Leonardo]: “But, well, to think… the winning prize was a year’s supply of wine of all things. ‘Guess sensuality and allure are as good as goddamn useless to them.”

he’s trying to say that he doesn’t like the prize cuz it isn’t very sensual/sexy (suppose he imagined a prize for a lovers’ contest would be more along those lines). even Arthur in the epilogue is like “…thought the prize for a best couples’ contest would be more special”….

[Kara]: Hehe, it’s a nice prize, isn’t it? Let’s drink it with everyone else in the manse.” [Leonardo]: “If you’re satisfied with it, that’s good, I suppose.” As he spoke, Leonardo looked to be the same as usual, but his eyes reflected some kind of joy from within. (I’m glad that this will become a lovely memory I’ll have about him.) (…But, even then) The very sight of Leonardo of when I had danced with him in the dance hall, wouldn’t leave my head. [Kara]: “Your dancing was really, really stunning.” [Kara]: “As I had always thought… you’re the strongest one around.” [Leonardo]: “What’s all this about, hmm?”

i probably should’ve bothered explaining it last year since i used the title “My Darling’s the Strongest” for the other translation but uh might as well do it now that it’s explicitly used in the story so by “strongest”, it doesn’t necessarily mean physical strength (though it can be). It’s “strongest” as in a form of “mightiest” or “most powerful”, kind of like when someone says “my baseball team is the strongest in the league”,

[Kara]: “I just think that you’re the mightiest lover as there’s nothing you can’t do.” Carried away by the thrill of victory, I professed my thoughts. In doing so Leonardo’s brows lowered, and a bit of a troubled smile graced his lips. [Leonardo]: “If I’m able to put some effort into it, then I guess there’s really nothing I can’t do. But…”

[Leonardo]: “There is something I simply cannot do, no matter how hard I try.” (Huh…?) [Kara]: “Something you can’t do… I can’t imagine such a thing existing.” He was undoubtedly an almighty genius, and was also the type of person willing to confront even his awkward dancing skills head-on.

At my murmurs, Leonardo continued as if the topic was no big deal.

[Leonardo]: “It exists.” [Leonardo]: “I cannot become an ordinary human.”

(gh-…) His words had vanished into the night breeze.

I inadvertently stopped in my tracks, and he stopped as well… and the both of us stood still in that one corner.

In my current view, the moonlight illuminated his figure as he stood before me. [Leonardo]: “As a pureblood vampire,” [Leonardo]: “I give you much loneliness— A loneliness that, if I were an ordinary human, you would never have to experience.” [Leonardo]: “However, if I went and lamented over every single little detail of that truth, I would be rendered unable to be with you. —Thus from the very beginning, I do not intend to lament either.” [Leonardo]: “I’m going to use as much of my power as I possibly can to grant your wishes, and that’s all.” (Using his power, my wishes…) I recalled the exchange we had a few days ago:

…

[Kara]: “Ah-, I… I just thought it sounded fun.” [Kara]: “And on top of that, I’d be really happy if everyone acknowledged me and Leonardo as the best couple.” [Leonardo]: “…”

…

[Kara]: “Did… you say that we should go and try to win the contest… merely because I…” With a smile, Leonardo proceeded to stare intently at me. [Leonardo]: “Well, there’s that, but additionally… I had the same motive as you had.” [Leonardo]: “I also had wanted the both of us to be acknowledged as the best couple.” [Leonardo]: “I wanted news to spread that I had been able to become the man of such a wonderful woman, you know.”   (gh- Leonardo…) Leonardo, whenever and wherever, envelops me in his great, unparalleled affection. Roused by the surging love within me, I went to grip his hand.

[Kara]: “…Leonardo, I want to be by your side tonight, and all night.” (I want to give him, in return for the love I received from him… those same feelings, that same love.) (I want him… to feel my love as well.)

[Leonardo]: “…” [Kara]: “gh- Ah-!” I was suddenly yanked towards him; and almost stumbling over my feet, it had closed the distance between us. Bringing his lips to my ear, he whispered:

[Leonardo]: “What a coincidence. I was just thinking the same thing.”

…

—As soon as we entered his room, we melded, deeply kissing each other. [Leonardo]: “…Hah-, Kara…” He called my name with a wet, heady timbre between kisses, the sensuality of it making me go lightheaded. Crowded atop the bed, he pried my lips open with his finger… [Leonardo]: “Thinking about it, I haven’t received a reward from you yet.” [Kara]: “’Reward’…?” [Leonardo]: “When I’m feeling, touching you like this… I know that you’re not so dumb to be oblivious to what I want?” [Kara]: “ngh-…” Taking a guess on what he desired from me, I slowly brought my face closer to his.

[Leonardo]: “Good girl. Come on— Try to turn me on with a kiss?”

FIN

yes the event really stops here before the epilogue teaser. cybird when a sexi scene is about to start:

since this was a glorified keyboard test, this is mostly a one-off… so don’t expect leo translations from me otherwise ahah

u know, it’s always weird to me that leo’s stuff is always very sorrowful bc of the vast diff in lifespan, humans vs. vampires thing. like, does he not plan to turn her into a vampire? the wedding stuff makes it sound like they’d like to be together forever but they still don’t really like to broach the topic itself……… kinda sus given that the Count’s stuff gets several mentions of biting in events and vlad clearly doesn’t mind biting whenever (and is just waiting for her to give him the go-ahead). ive seen some ppl talk about how maybe leo likes her because she’s human (both as in being a literal human and the figurative idea of being “human”) and honestly……… it is kinda messed up to think about, but i can see it LOL now im not saying the other pureblood x mc relationships are super healthy but that’s a convo for another time

well at least these guys don’t have to ask someone for vampire-turning assistance. im imagining one of the other charas having to ask the Count to bite mc akin to how teenagers have to ask their parents to drive them and their friends around to do stuff…….. who wants to relive that nightmare

also sorry if like leo’s voice doesn’t match up with w/e the official engl localization does. ive literally never played an engl cybird game in my life, so it’s a crime of ignorance i swear. tho imo if they’re not making him sound like a rascal… that’s very lame, im not gonna lie

the epilogue is obviously not available for purchase rn, but please buy it and/or support the game with purchases when you can!!

As always, thanks for reading!

(gif source)

#ikevam #ikemen vampire #wats this fools tag #ikevam leonardo #?? i guess #spoilers #leonardo da vinci #seems a bit improper to do the one connected with the real guy

[farmhandler]

Spoken, Not Said

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Theseus/Asterius/Zagreus

Warnings: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Banter, Bickering, Theseus being Theseus, Slight spoilers            

CH: 1/?

WC: 3K~

Read on AO3

Summary: Asterius is taken by Hades as punishment for Theseus' inability to defeat Zagreus. Zagreus feels guilty that he's caused the shades around him so much pain, but he's unwilling to give up on his quest. Instead, he suggests they find Asterius together. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: Tumblr got rid of line breaks, which is mighty inconvenient and means some parts of the story may seem abrupt. Sorry about that! Anywho, enjoy. Love this game!!! 

Theseus does not realize something is amiss until he’s been left standing at the gates to Elysium Stadium alone.

When they are not bound by the duty of reducing the monster endlessly attempting to escape their halls to blood and gristle, it is often the case that Asterius will bide his time in his own quarters or wander the halls of Elysium on his own, ever the watchful guardian; however, rare is it so that Asterius does not meet him at the gates of the stadium once they have received word that the daemon is making his way towards them.

Today—though there are no days, nor nights in fair Elysium—Asterius has not shown himself. Theseus at first does not take it upon himself to grow concerned over his dear friend’s lateness, but as the hour passes, his impatience grows.

Eventually, a messenger shade informs him that the daemon is entering Elysium once again, and Asterius still has not shown.

“You there,” he says, addressing a messenger shade before she can return to her post. “Have you seen Ast— the Minotaur? He has yet to meet me at our assigned post here to face that terrible daemon. Surely you have seen him while delivering your messages?”

The shade hesitates, her eyes flicking off to one side before returning back to Theseus. She shakes her head and apologizes profusely until Theseus dismisses her with a wave of his hand.

“Stay on guard for any sign of him,” he tells her evenly. Theseus does not allow his concern to show. For the shades of Elysium, he is their King, and he must never show weakness.

And how many times have I bested you again? a traitorous voice echoes in the cavern of his mind.

Theseus grinds his teeth together, fists clenching and unclenching at the thought of him. Since being recruited by Lord Hades, Theseus has spent an inordinate amount of time in his presence—far more than he would prefer. Theseus had never expected that his time in eternal paradise would become tainted by the constant clashing with this particularly egregious foe.

He would much rather continue to spar the heroes and champions he is well accustomed to, but he continues with his approach, no matter how often they dispatch of him.

Oh, I think we are long past you dispatching me. I can’t remember the last time I died to your spear.

You wretch! he thinks, imagining a conversation held with him, as he often does. What he wouldn’t give to impale him on his spear one final time—were that he not an immortal, a god—

Theseus stills his thoughts before they can go further. It doesn’t matter what he says, he is no god in his eyes. Compared to the real gods, he is puny. His voice is unbearably grating in every possible way. Elysium is a wondrous and enchanting resting place for those deserving of it, yet that stain continues to enter its impermissible halls, tainting the very ground under their feet with his daemonic presence.

Theseus steels himself with a breath and turns to look for Asterius. He will find him himself, and then they will have a rousing discussion about just how inadequate a foe the daemon is.

Theseus begins to feel concern when, after scouring all of Asterius’ favored resting places, he still cannot find him. He even goes so far as entering into his chambers to see if perhaps somehow he has become ill, despite the impossibility. No other reason would explain his sudden absence when just the night before, they had been discussing battle strategies to increase their chances against the daemon.

With Asterius still not found, Theseus is forced to return to Elysium Stadium to face the daemon himself. He does not vie for the prospect, but he will have to make do.

He is the former king of Athens and the current champion and King of Elysium. He will not fail!

“Oh.”

It is the first thing out of the daemon’s mouth when he approaches Theseus at the center of the stadium. He is looking around, shifting from foot to foot, eyes on the lookout for Theseus’ comrade in arms. Despite having said nothing else, just that single word is enough to ignite the flames of fury from within Theseus.

“You!” he spits, with more vehemence than he usually reserves for their battles. “You dare step foot in Elysium once again? I shall drive you away once more; as many times as necessary until you learn your lesson, foul wretch.”

The daemon appears unconcerned by his very real threat. He cast his gaze about the stadium, turning his back to Theseus briefly while he looks in all directions.

“Is it just us today?” He sounds disappointed, a delicate frown on his sof--horrible features. “Where’s Asterius? Did he finally get tired of being beat by me?”

His humor is lost on Theseus. He slams his spear into the ground and braces his shield as if he is about to charge like Asterius would do during one of their fights.

“Do not invoke his name! You have no right to dare speak it! I will defeat you here and now!”

“Okay,” the daemon drawls, raising one hand in placation. “Fine, have it your way. He’s the one that makes these flights difficult, anyway. After I wipe the floor with you, please do send him my regards.”

“The only thing that will be sent today is your body to the depths of Tartarus, with my blessed spear buried within your midsection!”

The daemon nods, having expected no less, and he shifts back, sliding his horrid flaming foot back and sizzling the grassy plain under their feet while he braces his hands in front of him. He is wearing the Twin Fist of Malphon this time around. Theseus recalls the feeling of it pummeling his lower back until it gave way, but he does not waver.

He slams his spear into the ground again and then points it at the daemon.

“Defend yourself!”

The crowd of shades that have been waiting for this moment abrupt cheers. Theseus feels their spirits embolden him, but just as he is about to lift his spear and aim it, the air shifts.

A familiar presence settles over them. Theseus can feel its oppressive nature almost immediately.

He balks. Since being recruited, Lord Hades has not made himself known more than a scant few times. And never once during one of their great matches, when all of Elysium gathers to watch.

“Father?” Theseus hears the daemon say. He hardly gives it another thought, because in the next moment the Lord Hades words threaten to knock Theseus right off his feet.

“Ahh. I see you’ve made it to the exit gates of Elysium once more. How many times is it now? How many times you failed to defeat him, Theseus, king of Athens?“

His voice booms all around them. Several shades shrink back, while others look up in awe. Theseus feels his grip on his spear loosen.

“Lord—Lord Hades,” he responds. “I…cannot say for certain that I have counted. Rest assured that this time I will—"

“Enough,” he booms. “You have failed me one time too many. It was by my hand that the Minotaur joined you in Elysium, and it is by my hand that he will leave it. Perhaps if you can manage to do your job, I may consider returning him to you.”

The words barely sink into Theseus before Lord Hades’ presence is gone. He stands there for several long seconds, the stadium deathly quiet.

Then the daemon says something to him, approaching on those hellspawn feet of his, but Theseus doesn’t hear it. All he can think about is Asterius.

Asterius. His comrade; his partner. He vouched for Asterius when he came to Elysium so he could have him there. They have been with each other now for so long. To have him torn from him like this is—it is—

“Theseus?”

He is broken from his reverie by him. The daemon. It is always him.

“I’m…sorry about Asterius. I know he was your friend.” Then, lower, to a register Theseus can barely hear, “Maybe despite his better judgment.”

The fists lower, and that hideous, terrible glowing, daemonic eye is cast upon him. Fury course through his veins like divine nectar.

Asterius. Asterius. By the gods, what torture must he be under? A punishment by Lord Hades is to be feared. He could be anywhere in the realm. He could be in Asphodel, or even Tartarus…

“My father will do anything to stop me, but I have to do it. I have to reach the surface again.” The daemon’s face is cast in the shadow of sorrow. His features soften further, shoulders drooping before he raises them and lifts his chin. “My mother—"

“You!” Theseus roars. “This is your fault! You miserable—” he burst into motion, tossing his spear in a single fluid and powerful move. It goes sailing forward, but the daemon shifts out of way “—horrible, forgotten monster. On this day, your death is assured.”

“Forgotten? That’s harsh,” he quips, sailing once again out of Theseus’ way. He has yet to strike a blow, but Theseus is prepared for anything he may try. “Look, Theseus—“

“Speak my name so flagrantly no more! While once I would have encouraged your admiration of me, the sight of you fills me only with disgust! Because of you, Asterius has been removed from my side, and I shall make you pay for it!”

“I think the point was more that the both of you couldn’t beat me,” the blackard points out.

“Because of you—” Theseus continues, undeterred. He is humiliated to find there are angry tears in his eyes. It is no shame for a warrior to offer his tears to his comrades, but this is no warrior. To show any weakness in front of him makes his blood boil even hotter.

He swipes angrily at his eyes with his forearm, clearing his vision quickly before he can be overtaken. But when he blinks, the daemon has not moved, still staring at him with an expression Theseus dare not name.

“I’m…I didn’t know he meant that much to you. You always seem, well.”

The insinuation stings. “Your fiendish attempts to insult me won’t work here! I shall” he sends his spear flying, but the daemon dodges “vanquish you here and now!”

This pattern continues for a time. Theseus attacks, but the daemon, for some reason, does not. He weaves in and out from around the pillars of the stadium and occasionally delivers onto him a glancing blow, but he does not attack with his full vigor. It is almost worse than the times when they are beaten within minutes of the fight starting.

At least in those instances, he is a worthy opponent.

Eventually, Theseus loses steam. His arm begins to tremble and ache, and his grip on his shield is less fortifying the longer that it weighs him down. He has gone on longer before, but with the fresh wound of Asterius being torn from him, he feels weakened.

His anger, instead of fueling him, feels as though it drains him. The daemon does not react to his rage other than to shoot him looks of pity, and the shades watching them aren’t cheering as loudly without the two of them there fighting him together, and with Theseus making no headway.

Eventually, the daemon stops in the center of the stadium and addresses him directly.

“Theseus, I…I think I can help you.”

“You?” Theseus laughs, loud and boisterous although his strength flags. “What a weak attempt to sway the battle in your favor. You cannot help me! Now kindly stand still so I may aim my spear at you!”

“I’m serious,” the daemon says. “I want to help you. Well, I want to help Asterius, but you’ve been looking so pathetic over there I can’t help but feel bad for you, too—”

“Silence!” Theseus shouts. His cheeks flush more than from the heat of battle. The nerve. “Raise your foul weapons and fight me!”

“Why do I even bother?” he hears him say. A sigh, and then the daemon lowers his weapon fully to his side. “Theseus, I know where Asterius is.”

At that, Theseus—in the middle of prepping another toss of his spear—freezes.

“Speak those words again.”

“Well, I don’t know exactly where he is, but I’ve been everywhere throughout my father’s realm, so I have an idea where he might be being held.”

“So you lie!” Theseus cries, aghast.

“Will you be quiet and listen to me for one second?” the daemon snaps. The embers on his feet flare up, sparks flying. “My father, Lord Hades, has been doing what he did to you to everyone that I fight. He’ll take them away to punish them so that they fight harder the next time. I don’t think it’s very effective, but until now…” He shakes his head, sending a few stray petals floating down. Theseus has only just now noticed the crimson laurels adorning his hair. “The point is, I like Asterius. He doesn’t deserve to be punished for doing his job. Besides, I’m sure none of you here are well used to torture like those down below.”

At the mention of torture, Theseus stills.

He is no stranger to what man is capable of, but in Elysium, death is impermanent. And even in combat, their pain is dulled, easily remedied by taking a bath in the river Lethe. If Asterius is in Asphodel or Tartarus, he is certainly being subject to torture of some kind or another.

Theseus drops to one knee. In a single second, his breath has left him, even though he no longer breathes.

“Let me help you find him.”

Theseus lifts his head, lips curled into a snarl. “You are the reason he was taken, monster!” He stands again, abandoning his weapons and approaching the daemon with a single-minded focus. He takes him by the shoulders and shakes him, once, giving no second thoughts to the warm, soft skin resting under his fingertips. “You are the reason all of this has happened! Have you no shame?!”

The daemon stares at him, stonefaced. He says nothing at first.

Then: “I’m doing what I have to do. I’ve already disobeyed my father by embarking on this quest. I can disobey him some more and help you find Asterius.”

His expression shifts then. He looks away, and when his eyes return to Theseus they pierce him even deeper than before.

“But I can’t do it alone. A part of what makes this work is that I can avoid most of the realms if I work fast. I don’t usually go poking around too long, lest my father find ways to reroute me.”

Theseus steps back, the words finally registering. “You ask me to leave Elysium. Blackguard,” he spits, “I will not be tricked!”

“No trick,” he replies. “Trust me, the last thing I want to do is drag you around my father’s realm while everything tries to kill me. I have my own mission.” His shoulders dip slightly, still held in Theseus’ firm grasp. “But you’re right: it is my fault. So I’m going to do what I can to make it right.”

Theseus stares at his foe, attempting to truly consider what he is saying. Assuming there are no lies coming from his wretched mouth, he can find Asterius. He can save him.

But he would have to leave Elysium. Anyone would be a fool to want to leave absolute paradise, and furthermore, it is strictly forbidden by Lord Hades, a god that could smite him on the spot if he so chose.

It would only be temporary, says a voice. That same, familiar voice, the owner of which is standing in front of him.

“You have been enjoying yourself,” Asterius told him once, long before the daemon had begun to beat them consistently. He had heaved his axe from the pillar it had been lodged in and used it to rest his arms upon, peering down at Theseus with a certain glint in his eye. “The short one has given us quite the challenge.”

“Ha! Hardly a challenge,” Theseus replied, wiping beads of sweat from his brow. He would need to reapply with a fresh layer of oils after a bath. “We dispatched of him with haste, and the next with even more!”

Asterius chuckled, a low, deep sound that worked its way into Theseus and sat there, warm. “You are enjoying yourself,” he repeated. “We have not fought this hard in some time.”

“Perhaps, my friend.” Theseus grinned. He clapped Asterius on the shoulder, taking a moment to feel the size of his biceps. “What do you say we make to the bathhouse and discuss our strategy?”

Asterius had nodded, Theseus’ excitement bleeding into him. They had never felt so alive together in many years.

Theseus looks at the daemon now and feels his resolve begin to waiver.

Without Asterius, the paradise of Elysium is a weak and pallid place. Asterius is like no other. Upon imagining the soul as wonderful as his being tormented because of the daemon’s—because of his own failure, he feels a new level of fury rise up within him.

“We will find Asterius, quickly. We will find him and then Asterius and I together shall send you back to the depths of Tartarus where you belong.”

The daemon rolls his eyes. He hefts his fists and shrugs off Theseus’ hands, which had not left his shoulders that whole time. Theseus does not think about its implications.

“Wonderful. Now can you—" he breaks off, sighing deeply before continuing. “Blood and darkness, I can’t believe I’m saying this. Can’t believe I’m doing this. Theseus, I need you to kill me.”

“What?” Theseus barks. “What sort of trickery—”

“I want my sword, Stygius,” he says flatly. “It’ll be faster if you just kill me. I’ll work my way back here and then take you with me.” He pauses. “Come on, don’t act like you haven’t been aching to do it this whole time.”

��Of—Of course!” Theseus answers, taken aback. He moves to grab his spear and shield, only just now reminded that they are surrounded by shades still waiting to see them fight. The crowds look anxious, and they cheer when Theseus picks up his spear.

“Defend yourself, daemon!” Theseus calls with renewed vigor. “Prepare your body for my spear!”

The daemon laughs, though Theseus hardly finds the situation amusing.

“Right. Well, let’s make this look good.” He rolls his shoulders, flexing his admittedly admirable muscles. “And by the way, I’m not a daemon. Call me Zagreus. Zag, even, if you prefer. Though I’m sure you don’t.”

Theseus grins and throws his spear.

#hades #hades game #zagreus #theseus #theseus/asterius #asterius #zagreus/asterius #zagreus/asterius/theseus #theseus/zagreus #secret pining #oh boi here we go #burgerking is the ship name isnt it...? love that

[lu-undy]

Sniper was in the Medic’s lab, shirtless, Ludwig began to flirt with Sniper and give him a playful lick in Sniper’s chest but.. In that moment Spy walks to the lab and sees both of them, ooo boy.. Spy was more than angry, he walked outside the lab and slammed the door behind him. In the fight Spy makes sure to make Medic’s life hell, Heavy helps Medic like a body-guard. When it’s over, Sniper ask Spy what’s wrong and the Frenchman burst in tears saying that he only wants Sniper.. “for him..”

Alright, here it is! Spy being jealous :3 I hope you’ll like it!

"They must cost ya a lot." Sniper said.

"What?" Spy asked.

"Your cigs."

Mundy and Lucien were sitting in the elegantly decorated living-room, sharing one of the menthol cigarettes that were Lucien’s favourites. 

"They are quite expensive, but it is the price that I am willing to pay to smoke quality tobacco." 

"You're just too posh, Spook." 

Spy smiled, he wished he could tell him his name. It felt unfair that he knew but Sniper didn’t. But spies, like magicians, never reveal their secrets...

"Call it as you wish, I just know how to tell bad tobacco from exquisite one." 

Sniper rolled his eyes with a smile and puffed on his cigarette. "Ooh - !" Mundy coughed a few times and put a hand on his chest. 

"Are you alright? They are less strong than your cheap ones…"

"Yeah, nah, I'm fine. It's just… I got into a fight with the enemy Spy and uh… He got me quite bad on my chest. I didn't die so I didn't go through respawn and all."

Spy frowned. "What happened?"

"He punched me there and twisted his wrist to slash through me with his bloody knife…!" Sniper pressed his hand against his chest. 

"Le fils de…" Spy's eyes jumped from his friend's chest to his lagoon blue eyes. "May I have a look at the wound?" 

[The son of a…]

"Uh, I mean…” Sniper lowered his head, looking down under Spy’s impressive eyes.

“I just want to ascertain whether you needed more medical help.”

“Yeah, nah, I’m fine, it‘s alright.” Sniper put his hand on the buttons of his polo shirt and undid them. He noticed how Spy averted his gaze, looking at the dancing flames of the fireplace for a while.

“Let me just remove the plaster - ouch! It's not much but it's everything' I had lyin' around in my van." Sniper slowly pulled it away wincing at the pain of his chest hair being pulled but the paster.

“May I see?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Do you mind if I get closer?”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

Spy moved from his armchair to his sofa to sit next to the Mundy. He bit one of his gloved fingers and pulled to remove it, not noticing the blush on Sniper's face. "Hmm… He slashed through and it's deeper than a mere scratch." Spy inspected the wound and Sniper felt flustered as he could feel the heat from Spy’s very body. He could breathe his expensive cologne and his heart woke up.

"The blood is still dripping too, here…" Spy took a handkerchief from his breast pocket, folded it and pressed on Snier’s chest.

"Spook - ?!" Sniper hissed.

"See? The blood is still flowing. I will take you to Medic without delay, and don't try to argue. Take my handkerchief and keep it pressed on your chest."

Sniper put his hand on the handkerchief and briefly brushed Spy’s bare hand. Sniper’s face went from red to crimson, averting his eyes as if he had caught a lady undressing.

"I'm - uh, I thought a few days and the plaster would be enough…"

"It clearly is not." 

Both stood up and went to the door.

"I am no expert but it seems pretty bad by the looks of it. I will go with you, just for the sake of safety, and to make sure you make it there."

"It's not that far, eh."

"Oui, but you have lost quite a bit of blood." Spy went to the door and put his hand on the doorknob. 

"Tomorrow…" Spy stayed between Sniper and the door, his back to him. Sniper raised a curious eyebrow, waiting for the rest of the sentence to come. "I will find him and deal with him. He will not bother you on the battlefield." 

"Y-you don't have to." Sniper's voice was apprehensive at how determined and furious Spy sounded. 

"Non, I don't, but I will. He is an embarrassment to spies everywhere and needs to be shown how a true professional works." With that, Spy finally opened the door and both mercenaries walked through the corridors until they arrived at Medic’s quarters. 

"Come in!"

There was an instant, a fleeting moment when Sniper and Spy’s eyes met, ice grey and lagoon blue. Sniper thought he had read something new in his colleague's eyes. 

Nah, I must have dreamt it or something…  Sniper thought.

"Spy? And Sniper - oh, are you injured?" 

"Yeah, the bastard of a snake got me and well, I didn't think it would be that bad but uh… Spy thought I should come and see you." 

"Follow me to the next room." 

Both followed and Sniper sat on the medical bed. Medic slipped on a pair of gloves and started inspecting the wound closely. 

"Ah, I see… Well, the wound is too deep for it to close on its own, I will need to stitch it back.”

"Nothing too serious then, Docteur?"

[Doctor]

"Nein, you may go Spy."

Lucien's shoulders sank down, relieved. 

"How long will it take you?" He asked, heading for the door.

"A few minutes, maybe five or ten."

"Bien." Spy turned on his heels and was about to go when -

[Good.]

"Spook?" 

"Oui?"

"You still owe me a cig, eh?"

Spy smiled. 

"You are welcome to come whenever you want."

"Yeah, I'll come right after this, or maybe tomorrow."

Spy nodded to both his colleagues and closed the door, his eyes lingering on Sniper until the end. Lucien sighed and went back to his room. 

"Five or ten minutes… How long can it be?" 

And as they say in French, Spy prit son mal en patience. He took his longing for Sniper and gulped it down, trying to be as patient as he was able to. Spy sat back on his armchair and read his faithful Dapper Cadaver, trying to not take a look at his watch too often.

Quite frankly, he could not care less about the content of the magazine. All his mind was busy with was the promise of a moment, alone, with his special friend. Spy sank in his armchair, extending his feet towards the fireplace. 

If he could have seen himself, he would have mocked his own mellow smile, his heavy-lidded eyes. All that for what? Or rather for whom…?

Spy's eyes landed back on the black printed letters and this time he tried to really read. After all, time flies when one is busy. And indeed time did fly so fast that when he emerged from his magazine again and straightened his back, more than half an hour had passed. He sighed. Well, he would see Sniper the next day… 

Lucien’s light blue eyes went to the sofa, where his friend had been sitting before, and his eyes snapped wide.

"Merde, il a oublié son chapeau!"

[Shit, he forgot his hat!]

Knowing how dearly Sniper liked his hat, Spy took it in his hand and exited his room to give it back. He first went to the camper van and knocked. 

Nothing. No one and no sounds. Spy glanced at his watch. It was still too early for dinner and it wasn't Sniper's turn to cook so he shouldn't be in the kitchen. Lucien turned on his heels and looked in the living-room of the base, even in the kitchen, just in case, and in the common showers, but to no avail. 

He sighed and winced. Where could Sniper be? Well, the last place he had seen him was Medic's lab but surely he couldn't have stayed there for that long, or could he? Medic had said five minutes, maybe ten, not half an hour. 

Intrigued and confused, Spy headed for the doctor's laboratory, the brown hat in his hand. He gave a knock at Medic's office. No one answered. Lucien pricked his ears up but not a single sound came from that door. However he did hear the voice with the German accent coming from where he had left him to heal Sniper. 

Spy got closer to the door and knocked. 

"C-come in!" 

He frowned as it wasn't Medic's voice which had answered, but Sniper's. Spy opened the door anyway. 

"Sniper, you forgot your h - " 

Lucien froze. Medic had a hand on Sniper's cheek in a way that didn't call for any doubt. Sniper's eyes opened wide when he saw Spy standing there, and they darted from the doctor to the assassin. 

Spy sighed and frowned, lowering his head. 

"You forgot your hat. I shall leave it here. Goodbye." And Spy slammed the door shut so violently that the glass flasks on Medic's shelves against the walls shook under the shock. 

Spy was fuming with rage and he didn't even want to understand why. Trying to understand would make him even more furious. He locked himself up in his room and went straight for a bottle of wine. Spy knew he wouldn't have any dinner apart from alcohol and nicotine that night. He drowned in the bitter beverage and burnt under the ashes of the menthol cigarettes, the excuse he had found to have Sniper come out of his den of a campervan. 

Cigarettes. 

Spy held the one he was smoking in front of his eyes, his glass of wine in the other hand, defeatedly dangling off the armrest of his armchair.

Cigarettes. 

They were the only thing that connected him to the man he wanted to spend more time with. They had taken that habit quite frequently now; It had started with just short smoke breaks, outside of the base. But the more they met, the longer the breaks got until they thought they could do with a seat. That was when Spy had invited Sniper to his living-room and since then, their smoke breaks turned into long evenings of chats and word games. Word games not like scrabble or hangman - the goal to make his friend understand that when he looked into his eyes, he would feel butterflies in his stomach. Sniper was the only musician capable of playing with Spy’s heartstrings, with the delicateness of his shy, hoarse voice, his few, well chosen words. And when Spy managed to catch the slightest shade of pink on Sniper’s cheeks, when he graced him with his sweet smile, Lucien simply had to stare, there was no other way…

However and as soft as all that sounded, it turned out that the handsome Sniper had set his heart on Medic. 

Spy sighed and undid his tie. He then unbuttoned his shirt to ease his neck.

Sniper preferred Medic, and Medic felt the same way too. How long had it been going? Was it before their evenings? Had it been going on all along and Spy was oblivious to it? How could he have missed something that big?

Spy frowned and clenched his jaw. He downed more of his wine and coughed right after. He had sunk so low in his chair that the wine went the wrong way. Lucien straightened his back and cleared his throat.

He put the glass of wine on the coffee table in front of him and crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. Spy was realising that what he felt in fact was a mix of jealousy and heartbreak. He rubbed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

When he felt his heart was made of stone, the only one who had managed to find a crack through which to get to his very core, was Sniper. The only one who had made his heart and his insides warm, with just his presence and his natural kindness, was Sniper. The only man who made SPy human again by creating those feelings he was oblivious to was Mundy.

“Mundy.”

Spy said it. His lips had met for the M and his tongue had hit the top of his palate for the D. The name dissolved in the air and along with it, Spy’s mad hope to say it to his face, in an embrace, feeling his warmth diffuse to him. But non, it was all nothing but a fantasy, a wish that no matter how hard he prayed, would never be heard. 

A knock interrupted his bittersweet thoughts.

“Go to hell.” Spy answered between his teeth. 

“What?”

“I said - oh…” Spy’s speech cut short when he realised that the voice he had heard behind his door was none other but Sniper’s. He went to the door and opened it. 

“What is it that you seek with me, Bushman?” Spy could hardly see in the dark corridor but Sniper was holding his hat in his hands, fumbling with it nervously between his fingers.

“Uh, c-can I come in? I need to tell you something’, but not in the corridor.”

“Argh… Fine.” Spy closed his door after his guest. 

“Can I sit down maybe?”

“Do as you please…!” Spy answered, annoyed. 

It was only when they sat down, facing each other, that Sniper realised how disheveled Spy was.

“Are you alright? Y-you look… different?”

“And you, hm? I guess I should apologise for having interrupted your moment with your, ahem, partner…?”

“My p - No, Spy, you don’t get it - ”

“Oh, but I think I do. You and Medic share your time together. In that case, I should probably apologise for monopolising your time and keeping you away from him.”

“Spy - ”

“Non, non, please, I am a respectful man and I have manners. I owe you these apologies and I am trying my hardest to make them sound as earnest as possible. “

“Stop it, please.”

Spy sighed and let his hand sink from his brow to his chin. “Why did you come here?” he asked.

“T-to give you this back.” Sniper handed the handkerchief that Spy had lent him. 

“I washed and dried it. Well, I left it in on my window to dry but I needed to come and see you so, uh, sorry, it’s still wet.”

Spy nodded and took the handkerchief in his hand. It smelled of the same soap that Sniper used to wash himself.

“Spy… I… I don’t have anything with Medic.”

Spy’s eyes darted from the handkerchief to Sniper’s eyes.

“Do not even try to lie to me, Sniper,” he said calmly, yet he gritted his teeth.

“I’m not, you of all people should know, I can’t lie, lyin’ s for Spooks and - ugh, I didn’t mean it to sound bad, bugger…!” Sniper sighed. “Look, Medic was trying to… get closer to me and I panicked, I just didn’t know what to do. He talked and talked and I was scared shitless. God knows what he could do to me if I refused or if I didn’t at least pretend to play along. So I tried to delay everything as much as I could, and that’s when you knocked. Y-you saved me but you got the wrong impression, I swear Spy, there’s nothing between that maniac and me.”

Spy had stared in Sniper’s eyes. “Swear to me on something that you value.”

“I… I swear on the person I’m… On the bloke I love.”

Spy frowned further. “So you do love a man?”

“Y-yeah. And I swear on his head that there is absolutely nothing between Medic and me.”

“Fine. I believe you.”

Spy thought that, given that it was Sniper who had answered the knocks with a panicked voice, what he said was true. He nonetheless felt disappointed to learn that Sniper’s heart was taken. 

“You may leave if you want.”

“Hold on, how many of these have you smoked?” Sniper looked at the overflowing ashtray on the coffee table in front of him. “And the wine..?”

“You may leave,” Spy repeated coldly, his eyes looking away from the Mundy.

“No…” Sniper put his hand on Spy’s and he got startled. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

“Maybe I will one day, but your… man is waiting for you. I don’t want to delay you further.”

“Spook, no…”

“No what?”

“I shouldn’t have said that…” Sniper sighed. “I shouldn’t have told you about that bloke…”

“Non, non, it is fine. I just thought that… Bah, nevermind. What I thought matters little.”

“No, it... I… Dammit, why does it have to be so hard?”

“Look, Sniper, if you don’t have anything else to say, you know where the door is.”

Sniper panicked. What would happen if he didn’t find the courage to tell the truth now? Would he go back to the solitude of his van? Would his evenings with Spy end once and for all? He didn’t want that, he didn’t want any of that.

“S-Spy, that bloke I swore on… I need to tell you about him.”

“I am honoured you would trust me about this, Sniper, but I must refuse.”

“Please, please let me just tell you who it is.”

“Non, Sniper, don’t.”

“Spy, I need to.”

“Non.”

“Why?”

Spy took a deep breath. 

“Because… I…” Spy’s daydream got back to him and hit him in the face like a wave of ice cold water.  “Mundy…”

Sniper’s eyes snapped wide. 

“Please do not tell me about the man you love, I cannot bear it.” Spy’s imploring eyes forced Sniper to gather his courage and tell the truth.

“It’s you. Spy, I…”

Spy’s face spun to meet Mundy’s eyes and even with the balaclava on, Sniper saw the red on Lucien’s upper cheeks.

“I love you.” Sniper was panting, the air was scarce in the room and his throat was dry. “I’ll go now if you want.” He put his hat on his head to hide his flustered and uncomfortable face. 

“Non, stay…” Spy threw his hands on his friend’s. “Is it true?” 

“I swear on your head, even if I’ve never seen it completely,” he said, head lowered to stare at the floor. “I love you.”

“Sniper…?”

“I-I’ll just go… I, uh…”

Spy clenched his fingers around his fingers and pulled his hands strongly to him. Under the force of the pull, Sniper’s entire upper buddy bent forward and his lips landed on Spy’s. They locked in place and stayed there for long seconds where both blacked out of reality, they didn’t know what day it was, where they were and who they were anymore.

“W-why?” Sniper asked as their faces were only a few inches apart.

“Because I love you too and I’ve drunk and smoked my jealousy away…”

“You were jealous?”

“Of course!” Spy’s hand went to Sniper’s cheek. “When I saw Medic’s hand on your cheek I thought I would go mad. I could have killed him, I could have shredded him and spread his parts across the world for no one to find. But…”

“But what?”

Spy’s thumb brushed the cheek of the man his heart was beating for.

“But I thought that you loved him. And if Medic could make you smile more than I did, then he shall live, to make your life complete, even though the sight of it all ripped me and my heart apart.” 

“Bloody hell… You were jealous…”

Spy nodded and put his forehead against Sniper’s. “That’s how much I have been possessed by your charms, I’m afraid.”

“My charms? My… Shut up and c’mere…” Sniper pulled Spy by his hand and kissed him. He continued to pull him such that Lucien moved from his armchair to the sofa; first sat next to his lover, and later, both lying on the sofa, saying in the twist of a lip and in their embrace the million emotions that moved their souls, as they melted in each other’s arms.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

[pinnithin-writes]

Good Jokes

Chapter 23: The End

When the white light cleared, Tommy was in a starfield and his hands were empty. The burn wound on his shoulder was already healing over, the pain ebbing and melting away as scar tissue scrawled pale starbursts over his skin. His heart pounded as he cast his eyes around, meeting only streaks of multicolored light, galaxies and nebulas passing by like landmarks on a road trip.

His breath left him all in a rush as he realized where he was. His father had come to pick him up.

The man in the suit materialized as soon as the thought crossed his mind, clean and pressed as always, hair neat and black as cast iron. His shadowed eyes swirled like the stars around them as he regarded his son. They stood, facing one another in the void, standing on nothing. Tommy waited for his father to speak first.

“Happy Birthday, Tommy,” the man in the suit said with a smile.

Tommy stared at him, robbed of words. Birthday? Today was his birthday? Slowly, he raised his hands to clutch at his hair, drawing in a thin, shaky breath so he wouldn’t fall apart completely. The dissonance of something so routine happening in the midst of this disaster made him want to scream.

Birthdays had always been mundane to him, another insignificant turn of the wheel. But after what he’d just survived, he wondered if it was something worth celebrating. He was indescribably tired.

Thirty seven. Thirty seven revolutions around the sun. It was the worst day of his life.

He didn’t know how to respond to his father, who had plucked him out of Xen for a chat after turning his back on him hours before. There was definitely not a ‘thank you’ on his lips, and his mind was clouded with all the ways he could accuse his father of abandoning him, none of them coherent or respectful. He eyed the other man wearily and finally settled on asking, “the others?”

“Alive and well, I assure you,” his father answered. “I must congratulate you on your success in dealing with this… little issue.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed as he computed. “Success?”

“I certainly would not have been able to remedy the situation without the help of you and your associates.”

He laced his fingers behind his head and tilted his chin to the star-streaked void above him so he no longer had to look at his father. “You couldn’t have just taken care of this on your own?”

His father chuckled grimly. “Hardly. At least, not in a manner as quick and efficient as this one.”

Efficient? “Do you know how many people died?”

“I can say with confidence, Thomas, that far more would have died if the four of you had done nothing at all.”

Tommy dropped his arms from behind his head and instead pressed his fingertips against his eyelids, inhaling heavily through his nose. He didn’t answer, fighting for control of his facial expression while his father examined him. This man couldn’t possibly grasp the scope of what Tommy had just lived through, what the week’s events had done to him. He didn’t have that kind of perspective, being a god and all that; all that mattered was that his plan had worked.

Success. They had succeeded. Mission complete, crisis averted. He felt awful.

His father broke the silence evenly. “I took the liberty of upholding our little family tradition,” he went on. “The entire venue has been rented out, as usual, and I will be personally extending invitations to your new... hm. Friends.”

Tommy paused from kneading his eyeballs in consternation to give his father a puzzled look. “The scientists?” he asked. He could think of no one else.

The man in the suit eyed him with amusement. “Yes, the scientists,” he affirmed. “The experiments known as Bubby and Harold Coomer, as well as your ‘Mister Freeman.’”

“He’s not my-“

“I am well aware of the nature of your relationship,” his father spoke over him, “and I will be having a little chat with him before we convene at the entertainment center.” His eyes glittered not so much in threat as in curiosity.

This didn’t feel to Tommy like the appropriate course of action to take at all. He still recalled clearly on day two of this disaster, when Gordon had told him he planned on sleeping for five days after this was over. Sleep for five days and get a Big Mac. After everything the man had just survived, that was the bare fucking minimum of what he deserved, and Tommy had half a mind to drive Gordon to a McDonald’s himself.

“You can… probably just send him home, I think,” he intoned quietly. That was all Gordon wanted, this entire time. Everything he fought for, everything he endured. Home. Home. He just wanted to go home. Tommy’s stupid birthday could go on without him.

“I’m afraid Mister Freeman does not have a home to go to. Black Mesa, including his living quarters inside, was completely destroyed.” He lifted his brows in a way that didn’t quite line up with the tone he was attempting to convey. “He might as well have a little fun before he goes house hunting, hm?”

Tommy’s shoulders sagged in defeat. Some reward for saving the world. “Can you at least – I don’t know – do something about the hand?”

His father threaded his fingers together behind his back. “I can do something about the hand,” he said conclusively.

The galactic landscape passed on in silence. Tommy kept his gaze on the void beneath him, refusing to meet eyes with the man who was so clean and spotless while his son looked like a dead thing Sunkist had dragged in from the back porch. Exhaustion made his bones heavy and his posture downcast.

After a thoughtful pause, Tommy’s father went on. “I suppose you need some time to yourself. I trust you’ll be able to find your way... home, from here, yes?”

Distractedly, Tommy splayed his fingers, feeling the power that had abandoned him on Xen sizzling beneath the surface of his skin. His pulse ticked down to a more manageable pace and he nodded silently. His father was right once again.

“I shall take my leave, then,” he concluded. His visage began to fade as he leapt from the dimension. “I’m proud of you, son.”

Tommy raised his eyes just in time to watch his father disappear.

He didn’t have the energy to cry once he was gone, though he could feel from the prickle behind his eyes that he probably needed to. Proud. He was proud of him. What was that pride worth, at the death of so many innocent people? Tommy felt cold deep in his chest, and it wasn’t just from floating in the vacuum of space.

He missed Gordon already.

---

The Chuck E. Cheese location in Las Cruces, New Mexico, was a place Tommy Coolatta knew quite well. He expected the venue to bring warm familiarity with it after the past week’s events, but he wasn’t fully prepared for the heavy thump of nostalgia in his chest as he opened the door. The rows of tables, the multicolored lights, the arcade games, all called back to happier days he’d spent with his father here. Once he’d outgrown what was essentially a children’s casino, the two of them had kept up the birthday tradition as a little joke within the family. Besides, one was never really too old for a round or two of skee ball.

The venue was empty, save for the disinterested staff. Tommy ordered a cheese pizza, found himself a seat at one of the tables, and waited.

It was strange, being here. The music and the flickering lights would have made the experience feel otherworldly if Tommy hadn’t literally just been in another world. He felt remote and detached, like the past week’s events were his reality and the entertainment center he sat in was merely a fever dream. Tommy closed his eyes and took in the smell of pepperoni and grease and whatever cleaning product the staff used to wipe down the tables. Underneath it all the iron scent of blood still lingered on his skin. He desperately needed a shower.

Bubby and Coomer arrived after a while via portal, dropped unceremoniously from the ceiling in front of a staff that was perplexed but not paid enough to care. The older gentlemen looked just as haggard and warweary as Tommy felt, joining him at the table as soon as their eyes lit on him.

They helped themselves to the pizza he was working on. They didn’t talk. There was nothing to say.

Weirdest birthday ever.

Bubby eventually made an offhand comment that he had never been to a Chuck E. Cheese before. His tone of voice was neutral, but the pinch of his eyes betrayed his curiosity as he flicked his gaze between the arcade games.

“Never?” Tommy asked at length.

Bubby nodded. “I’ve never left the facility,” he admitted.

Dr. Coomer exchanged a surprised look with Tommy as music thumped in the background. After some thought, the scientist wiped his hands on his napkin and gave Bubby a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Chuck E. Cheese is an excellent example of what the outside world has to offer, Dr. Bubby,” he told him, smiling tiredly.

Tommy snorted into the slice of pizza he was eating. The remark was almost enough to lift his mood away from the pit of anxiety in his stomach. Maybe he really could call these gentlemen his friends. Or, at least, he might learn to do so in time.

Bubby and Coomer excused themselves to try their hand at the arcade games. Tommy remained seated, drumming his fingers on the tabletop, too antsy to partake. He checked his phone, only to find it waterlogged and dead. He tossed it onto the table in disgust. Who would he call, anyway? The one person he wanted to talk to wasn’t in his address book.

His father was taking too long. Why was he taking so long? What was there to discuss with a man who just put his life on the line to seal an alien rift? Tommy watched the remainder of the pizza grow cold on the table before him. He ached in every way there was to ache.

Just as he was beginning to debate leaving his seat for a couple nervous rounds of air hockey, space split open across the room and a portal appeared. Tommy froze, watching the air shimmer and warp as someone stepped out of it.

And there was Gordon Freeman, alive and exhausted, blinking in disorientation as he touched down onto solid earth.

Tommy ran to him, chair clattering to the floor in his haste.

Gordon’s eyes barely flickered in recognition before Tommy collided bodily with him, arms flung around his neck. The HEV suit dug hard and unyielding into his chest, a discomfort ignored in favor of the other man’s arms returning his embrace, warm and solid. A shaky exhale sounded in his ear and he felt tears spring unbidden to his eyes. He made it. This wonderful, insane survivor. He made it, and he was hugging Tommy so hard he thought his spine might snap.

The other man’s voice was broken up with relieved laughter. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday, man.”

Tommy wasn’t letting go of him just yet, staccatoing his response into Gordon’s neck. “Sorry, I was - I forgot.” The sound he made was a sob disguised as a laugh, or perhaps vice versa.

“It’s okay,” Gordon chuckled, and it sounded like he was fighting for control over his voice, too. “We were a little busy.”

Tommy’s shoulders shook with mirth, awash with joy and wonder as he clung to him. The lights and the music around them didn’t matter, nor did the stars or the hungry void beyond. They could figure out their new reality one fragile step at a time. As long as they could stand together, feeding each other with laughter, they could find their way.

---

The party didn’t end up being too bad, even if the timing was a little weird. For all the exasperation Tommy held with his father at present, it still meant a lot that a man who played time like it was a pickup basketball game still tracked how many times Tommy had orbited the sun. The Science Team played a couple arcade games, ate their first real meal in days, and took turns splashing their faces and cleaning the blood from under their fingernails in the bathroom sink. It was an interim recovery, a pit stop on the way to rejoining life.

By the time it was over, everyone felt a little more human. Human enough, at least, to step outside the liminal space they found themselves in and return to Earth. Far flung explorers, lost inside themselves. Off in search of home, whether that home was found or they built it with their own two hands.

Tommy stepped out to the parking lot, the asphalt washed white and stark in the floodlights. The cool night smelled like juniper and sagebrush. He waved goodbye to Bubby and Coomer, who decided to make their own way from here after bidding him final birthday wishes. His father had vanished a while ago to deal with some cosmic follow-up to the Xen issue. Thankfully, Tommy got a pass on that.

That left Gordon, who he found leaning against the side of the restaurant, staring vacantly out at the parking lot with his eyes half open. The jingle of a staff member’s key ring startled him out of his reverie, and he slid a look first to the manager locking up, then to Tommy’s quiet approach. He was smaller without the HEV suit on. Softer. It had been a group effort to prise the armor plating off of him and carry it to the dumpster out back, leaving him in just the black utility coveralls worn underneath.

Where once there was a shield was just a man. Gordon smiled wearily at Tommy as he leaned his shoulder against the faux sandstone next to him.

“Is someone coming to pick you up?” Tommy asked.

Gordon sighed, turning to stare back at the vacant parking lot. “No,” he said, his voice small. “I’m still kinda… I was just trying to - y’know - I was gonna figure something out,” he shrugged. “I guess.”

Tommy tilted his head to the side, studying him. “It looked to me like you were falling asleep,” he observed.

A short, humorless exhale escaped him. “I was doing a little bit of that too, yeah,” he admitted.

His glasses were still smudged to hell and splintered with cracks. Carefully, Tommy reached out to remove the frames from Gordon’s face, sliding them off as gently as he could. There was a cut across the bridge of his nose. He did his best not to jostle it.

Gordon cleared his throat, returning his gaze from the parking lot to watch him pass a hand over one lens and then the other. “Do you have a ride coming?” he asked.

In the process of literally bending physics to fix the man’s glasses, Tommy tried not to smirk. “I’m - I can teleport, Mr. Freeman,” he reminded him.

Gordon chuckled softly. “Right. How could I forget?”

“But if you need to go somewhere, I can take you,” he added.

The lenses were repaired, for the tenth time over. Tommy inspected them for a second before sliding them delicately back onto Gordon’s face, somewhat hesitant to remove his hands as he withdrew. The first time he did this, Gordon was telling him all about what he wanted to do once they made it out of Black Mesa. Even then, it had seemed like an impossible dream, stacked as the odds were against them.

Now that they had done it, that it was real, Tommy felt like they had been handed some a measureless gift. He wasn’t quite sure yet what to do with it, and he guessed Gordon didn’t have much of a clue, either.

They held one another’s gaze. Gordon’s eyes were as full and clear as a starfield in the wilderness, dark and vast and deep. The lights in the parking lot hummed in the silence. Tommy had never felt quite so lost before, yet never quite so certain of where he needed to be.

“Thank you,” Gordon said finally, his words holding enough weight to indicate that he wasn’t just grateful for the glasses repair or the offer of travel.

No response seemed an adequate enough reply, so Tommy just smiled at him. For all the nightmares he endured in the past week, he didn’t regret a second of it if he got to see Gordon looking at him like this in the close desert night. He’d completely fallen for him, as hard and as fast as a meteor burning through the atmosphere.

He felt the threat of tears returning in the tightness of his throat, so he dropped his gaze and cracked a joke. “So… did you still want to get a Big Mac, or-”

“Oh my god,” Gordon cut him off, grabbing Tommy by the lapels and pulling him in.

This kiss was so different from their first one, it may as well have happened in another lifetime. The loss and pain and almosts were replaced with a fierce, blooming hope, a warmth and possibility passing between them in the breaths they took. Tommy raised his hands to tangle in Gordon’s hair, slow and reverent. This was magic, this was sunlight. They may have just lived through hell, but as Tommy kissed Gordon, he knew that he had found heaven right here, in the person he loved.

When they broke apart, it was soft and gentle, and it wasn’t goodbye.

They stood there, foreheads touching, under the soft full moon. Gordon unknotted his hands from Tommy’s lab coat in favor of winding them around his waist. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled.

“This is gonna sound - like, this is probably a stupid question, after everything, but like,” Gordon stammered out, breathless and rosy. “D’you wanna get dinner sometime?” he asked. “Y’know, like, somewhere nice?”

Tommy drew away to look at him, a slow grin unfurling on his face. “Was Chuck E. Cheese not fancy enough for you, Mr. Freeman?”

Gordon threw his head back to laugh, clear and sweet, and it was the loveliest sound in the world.

Chapter 22 <--- 

#ink #fanfiction #good jokes #part of my endeavor to relocate all my ao3 work #theres kissing in this one too #hlvrai

[the-elusive-libbin]

Ummm, do you have any Akutagawa (bsd) headcannons?

I sure do!!! Akutagawa Ryunosuke is a man who is full of bloodlust and jealousy, so much in fact that it actually kind of rules his life. I’ll admit I did have to re-watch a few Bungou clips to remember the way he acts but none-the-less I think I finally have enough of his personality in my head to get a few vore canons down. I know I spoke with the person who sent me this ask in private and they have no preference to microxmacro or same size vore so I shall write a bit for both types.

WARNING!: POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR THE BUNGOU STRAY DOGS ANIME AND MANGA SERIES FROM THIS POINT ON!

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

-As usual we find ourselves asking whether or not Ryunosuke Akutagawa would devour someone alive….He would!. Should this man find out he can swallow someone, he would probably do it a lot when ordered to do so as an effective method of disposing of the weak enemies that stand before him.

-Firstly let me just get this out there: Akutagawa would fatally digest his prey most of the time, in fact this is almost always the case. Why should he have to go through the trouble of devouring someone when he can’t digest them? Does one not devour food with the controlled mindset of ‘this is my meal, it will be devoured and give me energy?’ Precisely, one does not intentionally spit up a sandwich after it has been eaten. 

-To be totally honest, Akutagawa does not care about the life of the person inside his belly, he would have killed them with a knife, a gun or his own powers anyway so regardless of process, the outcome of death is the same. Secretly, Akutagawa does not like digesting same-size prey as it takes too long and is a hassle. Tiny prey are easy game.

-So what would make him want to swallow someone? Three reasons I can think of off the top of my head: 1. He has used vore as a method to get rid of people before and will do so again should it prove effective.This is of his own and his boss’ will of course. 2. The port Mafia orders him to devour someone or a few people. 3. The final possibility, if Dazai asks/orders him to swallow someone. I’m talking about any version of Dazai, Mafia Dazai speaks for himself but I think the concept of Akutagawa being praised by the suicidal maniac would be enough to coax him into vore even if Dazai has left the mafia by this time. This may take more thinking though.

-When committing acts of vore of his own accord, Akutagawa has devoured same-size people but he prefers swallowing tinies for reasons I will mention very soon.

Gonna split this now into two separate canon sections for Microxmacro and Same size because I know some of you guys prefer different ones~

SAME SIZE:

- This asshole struggles when it comes to same size vore. He kind of reminds me of a small, yappy dog with a loud bark and a bite to match but struggling to pull through with his threats. What I mean by this is that he’ll happily threaten to devour his soon-to-be prey with the intention of putting them into his stomach and he’ll grab his prey and go for it with force too...But he’s so small and skinny that he struggles to get the prey down into his belly.

-Even if his stomach can stretch to accommodate a single prey, that is about all he can manage. His skinny frame struggling to contain a huge, bloated mass that refuses to cease in its thrashing. Akutagawa attempts to act like he can in fact handle his meal and attempts to give orders to his men at the same time. So stubborn. It’s rather embarrassing really. 

-He wishes he could devour more than one of this kind of prey as he believes it will allow him to assert dominance by showing others what could become of them should they mess with him. Unfortunately this is not the case and the poor thing ends up a panting, humiliated mess. Of course he’ll threaten the blush away from staining his cheeks and refuse to admit his struggles. He has not been bested, he has swallowed a human whole! 

-Anyone who dares mock Akutagawa in a stuffed state will be either next on the menu to be savoured at a later date or killed on the spot. Subordinates included. Is he embarrassed by any of this? Of course! But he’s not gonna show his blush, he’ll hide it however he can. This is especially true for Akutagawa in the early stages of the show.

-The guy is quick to anger so of course he has swallowed people during a fit of rage before without meaning to do so. Imagine he’s halfway through swallowing someone and realizes that he shouldn’t have taken it that far. But he needs to save face and swallows them down anyway with a struggled ‘Gulp!’ It’s their own fault for getting in the damn way.

-Akutagawa prefers to swallow larger prey (when he has to) in the comfort of his own quarters, allowing only his sister Gin or at a push Higuchi into the room to aid him. Ultimately he prefers to be alone during this time as he finds his overly full state to be humiliating. Having the two women that care most about him fuss over his engorged stomach is less than ideal.

-Secretly the guy is touch starved and would love nothing more than to have someone rub his swollen belly to help sooth it or aid his digestion. This is Akutagawa we’re talking about here folks and unfortunately his own personality gets in the way of his belly rub ideals. Should he be tied down and forcibly have his belly rubbed (Not that one would dare) then he would be furious and possibly unable to hide his embarrassment. 

-His digestion is embarrassingly loud and obnoxious at the best of times but when he’s got an entire person to get through it is worse. Walk in on him mid digestion and hear those loud churning groans and be prepared to face the consequences of a red faced mob boss and his weapons.

-Akutagawa doesn’t care if he starts from the head or from the feet as long as the prey gets in his belly, it’s his job after all. He starts off cool, swallowing in gulps but then the prey’s head enters his stomach and he already feels full. The poor guy can’t eat much so stuffing his belly is hard for him. Eventually he manages to get the entire person down with pure willpower but his belly churns painfully and he falls to the ground, unable to support his own weight. Rashomon may emerge to hold up his bloated tummy for him. -After this, his belches and hiccups are soft and uncontrollable much to the mafioso’s embarrassment. Again, he’ll try to hide his blush if he’s not alone.

-Akutagawa is quick to anger as I may have mentioned previously and so punching and yelling at his gut would often occur. He does this when the prey inside won’t stop thrashing, when he’s too full, when he’s starving and even just when his belly is making too much noise. The most embarrassingly irritating scenario is when Akutagawa doesn’t feel hungry or full and his belly churns for no reason. There is no need.

MICROXMACRO:

-Akutagawa much prefers to devour tinies as they are easy to swallow and enter his stomach quickly. There is not much fuss and no mess. No struggled gulping and over bloating. Also a perk of this size difference is that the mafioso can erase multiple people at once.

-He will often make sure his stomach is starved before eating a tiny as he likes the idea of doing away with the prey quickly. If his stomach is craving a meal, it is more likely to digest the meal it has been longing for rapidly. He may be a murderer but he canonically hates torture and prefers to have things over with quickly. This is probably another reason as to why he doesn’t like swallowing conscious same-size prey.

-Akutagawa can’t eat much normally so I imagine five cupcake sized tinies would be enough to sate his hunger and bloat his belly. He would be stuffed and bloated after eating 10 or more. He would rather not do this because then his meal takes longer to digest in his gut.

-I imagine Higuchi has bought him a bowl of small criminals before and told Akutagawa that Mori demanded he dispose of them orally. How the mafioso’s eyebrow twitched as he glared at his subordinate in annoyance. He prefers not to overindulge. He doesn’t realise that she is staring at him for a while, and so swallows the little people down with contempt. When he does notice he will fluster before angering and kicking the girl out of the room.

-When eating tinies, he takes a few, looks them over, regarding them. He is not checking their nature, gender, age or any of the sort because none of that matters to him. Canonically he has no qualms about who he kills. The tinies he is given to devour have upset the port mafia, that is all the information he needs to devour the poor souls. The mafioso is secretly checking for dirt however and wondering about the taste.

-Let me be clear, no amount of begging will save these tinies. I think if Dazai or the boss orders him to devour these people then that is good enough for him.

-Not wanting to keep the tiny person in his mouth for any amount of time, he tilts his head straight back and drops the tiny inside. As soon as they hit the back of his throat, he swallows straight down, not bothering to follow the bulge down his throat with his finger. His stomach groans hungrily and Akutagawa wills it to hush in his mind. The prey hits his stomach which immediately wraps around them to digest, hugging the prey from all angles.

-Akutagawa likes the feeling of the prey going down his throat at this size, it’s intriguing to him. He also is able to feel the small movements inside his belly since he’s so skinny and his stomach is so sensitive. 

-Sometimes his belly doesn’t like having tinies inside it and his stomach sets off grumbling sickly and proceeding to give its owner heartburn and indigestion. This almost always occurs when he is stuffed. His stomach acid is strong and digests easily but his stomach itself is weak. Moving around with a full belly makes him nauseous.

-Belches? Unsightly to say the least. Akutagawa will stifle his belches into his fist unless he really can’t stop them. Should a loud belch escape his lips, he will be rather flustered by it and shake it off; this can be said even when he is alone. The mafioso’s belches are hardly ever loud and are usually wet and strained.

-Once Akutagawa has devoured a tiny or a few tinies, he will continue with his work business as usual, like nothing happened. He has a habit of gently placing a hand on his stomach when he has prey inside.

-”But Libbin! I hear you say.” “What about safe, non-fatal vore?” I hear you, let me think. So Akutagawa is the type to usually devour someone upon order, if he eats someone it will usually be to erase them, however should someone order him to keep someone safe inside his belly, he would have to do it. He’d be a mix of annoyed and confused at this as well. I see him actually worrying about digesting the tiny to the point where he researches the human stomach and its capabilities and eats some food beforehand to ensure his stomach has other things to digest first. He eats, touches his stomach, is this enough? Better eat some more just in case. Repeat a few times. I see him going totally overboard and eating way too much accidentally whilst overthinking. The poor thing is already full of food and then has to swallow a person he cannot digest on top of that.

-It’s not that he cares about the person he’s swallowing but if he digests someone when he’s not supposed to he’ll be scolded and he can’t have that.

-Should he decide to trust his stomach and swallow a tiny he cannot digest while it is empty he may learn how to control the digestion. If he manages that he will be happily surprised. His stomach will moan in hunger as it complains for food, upset that it cannot digest the only morsel inside.

-Self indulgent scenario time: Once Mori decided to test Akutagawa’s stomach capacity after the boss realised his subordinate could devour people to erase them for him. As a doctor, he knew his way around a stomach and performed an examination before and after Akutagawa swallowed a person. Then he filled him with tinies until he was at max capacity. Of course Akutagawa agreed to these tests as they ‘helped’ the port mafia…..In reality Mori just wanted to admire his handiwork and embarrass the younger male. Secret reports from the incident state that the younger male had never been seen so red faced and flustered. Then again, he had never before had a person place an accusing ear against his bare stomach as it digested people before. A strange scenario for anyone to find themselves in really, you can’t blame him.

So there’s some long awaited canons for you. I hope I could do him justice~ I do really want to draw him more now ^_^

#asks #vorecanons #fatal vore #same size #microxmacro #bellykink #headcanons #stomachgrowl

[fangirllifu]

Sweet Like Pudding Ch. 21

Italics - thoughts

Throughout the duration of Kanna's stay in the training camp, her wardrobe had been a collection of what she originally wore when she came, to spare pants from the managers and spare shirts the guys had. Additionally, there was also laundry, a whole lot of laundry. You can just imagine the amount of irresponsibility Koutarou's impulse decision had, when you think about her need for day and night clothes. Which would've been avoided, had he properly planned it all out.

Though on the bright side, an unexpected opportunity arose.

As per usual every morning, Kanna made her way down the stairs towards the Fukurodani quarters to meet up with Akaashi, who was left with the responsibility of asking the guys for extra shirts for Kanna, seeing as his own captain just couldn't. She smiled and greeted Akaashi with a wave of her hand, to which he nodded his head back in greeting. Once she was close enough, Akaashi extended his arm to hand her the shirt in his hand.

"Thank you Keiji. But is it really necessary? I could've just used the shirt I'm wearing right now, right? It's the last day anyway." Kanna questions, as she pinches a fabric of her shirt between her fingers as a gesture to further explain her point.

"Nonsense. You're a lady, Kanna-san. You shall do no such thing." Akaashi chides disapprovingly at her.

"Okay…." Kanna cringes guiltily at the look she was currently receiving from the taller male, as she reluctantly accepts the shirt being handed to her.

"I was just trying to be efficient here…. He doesn't have to give me the look." Kanna pouts as she turns away from Akaashi and the scolding look being directed at her.

A few meters ahead, she sees Yaku who just came out of the bathroom.

"Good morning Kanna-chan!" Yaku greets with a wave of his hand, as he walks towards her to go back to his team's quarters.

"Good morning to you too, Yaku-san." Kanna greets back with a bow of her head, before she turns to make her way back up the stairs to the manager's floor.

Missing Yaku shooting Akaashi with a questioning look and receiving a thumbs up in response, both of them with equally wide grins on their faces.

The morning proceeded as usual with the girls preparing breakfast, and the guys gradually being awakened from their slumbers by their respective early bird members. It's the last day, but Nishinoya still shows no mercy. On the bright side, Asahi and Sugawara don't have to suffer any longer than they already have.

As the first few start trickling into the cafeteria, Miyanoshita and Otaki get ready to serve them on the front. While Suzumeda and Kanna were at the back washing the equipment they used to prepare the food. Yachi, Shimizu and Shirofuku were currently eating, as they came down later that the others to clean up and put all the futons back where they should be. After they're done, the three of them will switch with Miyanoshita and Otaki so those two could then eat their breakfast. Suzumeda and Kanna would join them once they're finished with their respective tasks.

Soon enough the cafeteria is filled with everyone, from the Coaches to the players. Everyone was up and buzzing to get in last minute practice before the end of the camp. After a while Suzumeda and Kanna finally emerge from the back to join the rest to eat, joining the table with the other managers.

Kuroo was just sitting there eating, chatting and listening quite entertained by the chaos of his team and the single-brain celled group. Beside him sat Kenma, already finished with his breakfast and as usual glued to his console, busy ignoring everything around him in favor of the game he was playing. Kuroo looked around to survey who was still in the room, when he saw something that made him choke on the food he was chewing on.

Yaku looked towards him in alarm, passing him a glass of water as he smashed his band on Kuroo's back. Kuroo spluttered in response to the harsh treatment, shooting Yaku a disgruntled glare. Only to receive a single brow raised in response. Kuroo just shook his head as he chugged the water to force the food down and out of his windpipe.

When he was finally stable, Yaku opened his mouth to ask. "What was that?"

"I got distracted, okay." Kuroo shrugged as he once again continued to his eat food, finally sure he was capable of keeping everything where they're supposed to go.

"By?" Yaku further questioned.

As Kuroo chewed, he inclined his head towards where the managers were sitting. He leaned in closer to Yaku and briefly glanced at Kenma before he swallowed his food and opened his mouth.

"That's Kenma's shirt. Kanna-chan's wearing Kenma's shirt. How?!" He whisper-yelled, looking absolutely ridiculous as he gazed back and forth between Kanna and Kenma.

"Oh, that~" Yaku laughs with a mischievous smile, earning him a look full of suspicion from the taller male.

"It was me. Akaashi and I were hoping to get a reaction out of Kenma. Looks like he hasn't noticed it yet though." Yaku explains, side eyeing Kenma who was still engrossed in his game.

"Akaashi, huh….?" Kuroo hummed in thought as he finished what was left of his food.

"Bokuto doesn't know, does he?" He asked looking amusedly towards the said male, currently entertaining the orange-haired shrimpy.

Yaku shook his head. "Nope. And neither does Kanna."

Kuroo thought for a moment before turning towards him to speak again. "You just playing or playing cupid?"

"Cupid. Between those two? Who wouldn't?" Yaku answered immediately without a second thought.

"Fair enough." Kuroo nods his head at the justified answer he got from the shorter male.

It was only a little later, while they were playing a match against Fukurodani, that Kenma noticed. Now he realized why Kuroo was being even more of a dumbass than usual. He had to constantly avoid looking her way to keep his face from exploding in a bright red flush. Unfortunately, this resulted in him being extremely rigid in his movements, which didn't go unnoticed by a select few.

"Guess he finally noticed." Thought Akaashi, Yaku, Sugawara and Kuroo, silently chuckling in satisfaction at the reaction they elicited from the normally indifferent setter.

Though, they weren't the only ones who took notice of the unnatural behavior.

"Is something wrong?"

Kanna shook her head and instead re-focused on the drills the players, she was assigned to monitor, were doing. She could always ask him about it later.

But for some reason, she didn't know, she felt like he was avoiding her line of sight every time she tried to get his attention. She finally resolved herself to question him when she found him sitting by himself, away from the rest enjoying the barbeque near the grills.

"Hey, Kenma?" Kanna called out as she approached the setter. Kenma raised his head, acknowledging her presence.

"Did I do something wrong?" She asks as she sat down beside him.

"Huh?" Kenma said confused, as he pocketed his phone away to better listen to what she has to say.

"It just kinda feels like…..you're avoiding me for some reason." She says dejectedly, looking down at her hands.

Kenma sighed as he stood up and gently lead her by the arm to somewhere more private, away from the prying eyes of his nosy team. Once they were far enough for his sanity, he let go of her arm.

After a few seconds, Kanna decided to break the silence. "Is something wrong?"

"No—Uh… Just—Um…. That shirt…" Kenma stutters, turned slightly away from her to hide his flushed face (he knew 'cause he could feel it).

"Hm?" She tilted her head at him in question.

"I didn't know you were the one who needed the extra shirt, when Yaku asked for mine." Kenma mumbles, but Kanna was still able to catch what he said.

"Oh..." Kanna utters, realization dawning upon her in the resounding silence.

"No wonder he kept insisting I use the shirt! Curse you Keiji!"

Kanna quickly bowed, flustered as she splutters. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I—I—I—"

"It's fine. You don't have to say sorry. You can just return it to me the next time we see each other." Kenma cuts off, trying to console the flustered girl, as he lifts her up from her bow.

"Okay then… if you say so…." Kanna concedes and follows after Kenma as he turned to make his way back to the others.

They part ways with Kenma finding another place a little away from the others, where he could play his games in silence and Kanna heading to the managers talking amongst themselves.

Kanna arrived just in time to witness Shirofuku showcasing how many onigiris she could eat in a second, causing her to laugh along with the other girls. They were all chatting for a while, being silly and enjoying the atmosphere of the barbeque, when Kanna felt a gaze on her. She turned her head and locked eyes with Kenma. She smiled at him briefly, before turning back to the conversation she was having with Yachi.

Not realizing that her simple gesture caused a great shift to occur.

Notes:

And that concludes the official end of the Training Camp Arc. Onward we go! Also Happy Birthday to our resident rooster-headed Chemistry Nerd and scheming Captain, the Pain-in-the-ass Kuroo Tetsurou!

I don't really know what happened while I was writing this chapter. This was supposed to be a short special chapter, instead it ended up being a long one. I guess it comes with my weird impulse to further explain and in addition, add more to the story for better flow and understanding. Well at least it works, right(?) Hopefully it does, or else I'm just being paranoid for no apparent reason.

[Previous Chapter | Next Chapter]

Chapter List

#Sweet Like Pudding #kozume kenma x oc #Kozume Kenma #Bokuto Koutarou #akaashi keiji #Kuroo Tetsurou #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fanfiction #slow burn #romance #family #friendship

[victory-cookies]

It’s Curtains, For Sure!

A/N: Alternatively titled “Jonas and Poet go to Walmart”. This is a) the longest one-shot I’ve ever written (for fic or ocs) and b) the first time I’ve ever written a curtain fic story. It was fun. I hope you enjoy. Also, have I ever mentioned that Poet and Jonas are in a QPR? They’re in a QPR.

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“Y’know, I’m pretty sure that if hell exists, it’ll just be a really big Walmart,” Jonas muttered as he and Poet walked through the entrance to the store. “It’s so loud and crowded and bright and the people, Poet, the people can be so mean!”

Poet rolled her eyes as they walked over to the shopping carts, ignoring Jonas’ exaggeratedly woeful expression. “You didn’t have to come with me, dingus. It’s my shopping week, not yours,” they said, inserting a quarter into the nearest cart and pulling it free of its brethren. 

“And leave you to endure this torture alone? I would never!”

She snorted and began to walk towards the store proper. “Chivalrous of you.” 

“I know,” he replied, hurrying after them.

Once inside, Poet pulled out a list and scanned it. “Alright, so we need, like, the general weekly food stuff, as well as baking supplies for dessert tomorrow, laundry detergent, dish gloves, Mariah wants some yarn, I need some new makeup, and Marcus wants, and I quote, ‘a new boardgame or something because Catan is boring as shit and you all know it’, which, to be fair, he is right about. Anything I forgot?” They looked back up to see Jonas lounging in the cart. 

He shrugged. “Don’t think so? If you’re getting makeup, though, I want some too.”

“Sounds good,” they said, stuffing the list back into their pocket. “Upstairs first? We can grab the yarn and a new game or two and get everything else after.”

Jonas flashed her two thumbs up. 

There was a short pause as she looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “You gonna stay there?” she asked finally.

He grinned, ignoring the uncomfortableness of the metal pressed into his back. “Gotta find some way to have fun in here.” 

They sighed and began to push the cart through the store. 

***

It was only when they arrived at the escalators that Poet realized letting Jonas stay in the cart may have been a bad idea.

“Nuh-uh. No sir. I am all for committing fun and stupid crimes, J, but I am not letting you defile my good name by getting us banned from Walmart.”

In front of them, sandwiched between the up and down escalators, was the shopping cart conveyor, currently ferrying many a customer’s groceries between the two floors. And in Jonas’ eyes, there was a sparkle of mischief that Poet was very much familiar with. 

“You are not riding the cart escalator, Jonas.”

“Oh, c’mon—”

“No, absolutely not, they will see you and they will kick us out and we will never be allowed back into the only nearby Walmart—”

“Can’t see me if I’m invisible,” he said slyly. “Besides, even if we do get banned, you can just shapeshift into someone else and bam. Back in the Walmart, though I don’t know why you’d want that.”

They squinted, looking back and forth between Jonas and the escalators and biting back a smile. 

“I’ll buy you that cream blush you want,” he sang, his eyes sparkling brightly. 

She sighed fondly. Asshole. 

“Deal.”

Jonas pumped a fist into the air and then promptly disappeared.

Poet wheeled him over to the up conveyor and pushed the cart onto it, eyeing the “CARTS ONLY” label on its flaps and the signs above them warning against leaving children in the basket. “I hope you get stuck,” they muttered as the cart began to ascend, and they got the feeling Jonas was flipping them off (though it was hard to tell, him being invisible and all). They stepped onto the up escalator and leaned against the railing as they rode it up, watching the seeming empty cart rise beside them. Eventually, they reached the second floor and she pulled the Jonas’ ride out of the cartveyor, dragging him into a nearby aisle. 

“How was it?” she asked, the cart rattling as Jonas hopped out.

“Thrilling!” he replied, dropping his invisibility and stretching. “And see? No one’ll ever know I did it! It’s a perfect crime.”

They punched him in the arm and swung the cart around. “Sure, Jan. Now shall we get ourselves some yarn?”

***

“Wait, how the fuck does yarn work?”

Jonas shrugged. He and Poet stared at the shelves of yarn in front of them, both somewhat confused by the surprisingly large, colourful selection. “My guess is as good as yours, Poe,” he said. “Did she say how many bundles to get or anything?”

Poet pursed her lips. “I didn’t think to ask. She wants red, though.”

“Alright… but neither of us have any idea how much yarn one would need for… general knitting?”

“No clue.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“Let’s just grab lots?”

“Let’s.”

Jonas stepped forward and grabbed an armful of skeins of red yarn, tossing them into the cart. He looked towards Poet, cocking an eyebrow. “Board games?”

“Board games.”

“Cool.”

Jonas took charge of the cart, leading them into what was arguably the best section of the store. They wove through aisles upon aisles of toys, shelves stacked with dolls and toy trucks and far too many brands of surprise boxes, trying to ignore the urge to meander and fuck around with any box that made a noise when you stuck your finger through the front to press demo button. They sped by the shelving unit housing the trading cards because Jonas did not need more, he really shouldn’t, he had so many already— but like one pack couldn’t hurt, right? He tossed it on top of the bed of yarn literally lining the bottom of the cart before sighing. 

“Mariah’s gonna laugh at us, isn’t she? This is so much yarn. There’s no way she needs this much yarn, right?”

Poet shrugged. “I dunno, man. She’ll be stocked up at the very least,” she replied as they came to a stop at the boardgames section. “Anyways, what game should we get?” She picked up an Apples to Apples box, flipping it to read the back.

“Isn’t that just, like, G-rated Cards Against Humanity?”

“Yeah, kinda looks like it… how about, uh—” They grabbed another box. “Trouble?”

J shook his head. “Pretty sure we already have that one.”

“Shit.” They scanned the shelves, searching for something interesting, before they froze and silently pulled a box labelled “Pandemic” down. A Look passed between them and Jonas, and they placed the game into the cart. 

“Okay, you better be glad we don’t have a pandemic going on in this universe or I swear to god…” muttered Jonas as he began to head back towards the escalators. Poet snickered and followed. 

***

The two of them rode the escalator back down to the main floor, Poet having managed to convince Jonas to stay out of the cart this time. They began to knock out some of the more boring tasks on the list, heading over to the home goods side of the store to grab the cleaning supplies they needed before entering the food area to get the main groceries. 

“Whose idea was it to let eight teenagers live together again?” Poet asked, looking at the grocery list to see they needed ten frozen pizzas. “I feel like this isn’t healthy.”

“Eh,” Jonas replied, shrugging as he opened the freezer display to grab the aforementioned pizzas. “We haven’t died of malnutrition yet.”

“Fair.” 

They continued through the store, piling the rest of the week’s food supply into the cart. When they reached the baking aisle, Poet added what could only be described as an industrial-sized bag of chocolate chips to the stash, earning a half-puzzled, half-amused look from Jonas. 

“You never know when you might need ‘em,” they said, grabbing a bag of cake flour. 

***

It was as they bagged and tied the last of the fruits on the list that Poet began to notice how quiet  Jonas had gotten. They glanced over to see him fiddling with the bracelet on his wrist and pursed their lips. “You doin’ alright there, J?” they asked.

He looked up quickly. “Oh, yeah, I just— it’s… a lot in here, y’know? It’s...” he trailed off. 

“You wanna hit the makeup section real quick and then we can blow this popsicle stand?” 

He nodded. “That would be cool.”

They quickly made their way over to the makeup section and Poet made a beeline for the display for the cream blush Jonas had promised her while he walked over to a display of eyeshadow palettes. He deliberated for a moment before grabbing a small palette of blues and purples, wincing slightly as a baby over in the next aisle began to cry loudly. He then felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and turned around to see Poet, holding her blush as well as a tube of mascara and multiple eyeliners of different colours. She reached around him to grab a palette for herself before smiling at him. 

“Shall we?” she asked. 

***

The cart clattered as they rolled it out of the store, packed tightly with bags full of various necessities and absolutely-non-necessities, and Jonas sighed with relief. 

“And we’re free!” he muttered. “Free from the actual, real hell.” 

Poet pursed her lips. “I’m sorry about that,” she said.

“Nah, it’s okay,” he replied. “It didn’t get too bad, all things considering. And hey—” He put his hand on top of theirs as they pushed the cart along. “I may have actually had a little fun. It’s nice spending time with you. Also, you did help me ride the cart escalator, which slapped.”

“Oh, shush, you sappy bastard,” they laughed, grinning and turning away from him. “You’re still paying for that blush, y’know.”

“Of course,” he said, amused. He smiled, bumping into their shoulder. “Love you.”

“Love you too, idiot.” 

#my ocs #my writing #poet #jonas #putting a readmore bc looooong #and yes the title is a ts sides reference #shush #i have roman on the brain #the layout is basically the layout of my local walmart btw

[thanksjro]

Last Stand of the Wreckers, Issue #1: A Couple of Nerds Nerd it Up

The year is 2009, and you are a British man in his mid-30s. You were a part of a fan club for Transformers in the 90’s, and you wrote a lot of fanfiction and comic scripts for it. The only real claim to fame you have is a novel-length fic you wrote to try and bridge the gap between Generation 1 and the Beast War era, one that a lot of people have read and refer back to. You’re pretty content with that, and don’t try to break into any sort of writing career on your own. You have a job in public service, you have a family.

 One day, your old buddy Nick gets in contact. He wants some help with a story he’s working on for the current holder of the Transformers comics. It’s called Last Stand of the Wreckers.

Things are about to get very busy for you.

I’ll go ahead and say it- not any mechpreg in this one. You gotta wait until the sequel series for things to get weirdly horny, sorry to say. Also, technically only a plotting credit for Roberts here.

We hadn’t yet gotten to the point where he was allowed to rub his grubby little nerd hands all over everything.

So, let’s get to the nitty-gritty of this thing, shall we?

Our story opens on a lovely, sunshiney day on the beautiful Garrus-9.

Perfect weather for a picnic, don’t you agree?

Fortress Maximus and his cohorts are hard at work defending against the Decepticon forces, who have launched an attack on just about everything in the galaxy. This event is happening in the background of All Hail Megatron, as part of an offensive attack under the orders of ol’ Buckethead himself.

Kick-Off, another Autobot at Garrus-9, thinks that this is the work of someone on the inside, and Fort Max wants his prison intact for when they find the rat bastard who caused all this mess to happen, so he can lock that son of a gun up for a long, long time.

Then Overlord shows up.

There he is, the nastiest creature to grace the galaxy, a bitch so extra he’s apparently got to cycle through BOTH of his alt-modes before he lands on the scene to wreck shop.

Prior to Last Stand of the Wreckers, Overlord didn’t really have a whole lot going on. It’s a big part of why he was made the antagonist for this miniseries- nobody else was using him, so no risk of fudging up any continuity happening outside of it. Prior to this, he was mostly part of the Japanese Transformers scene, appearing in the Super-God Masterforce anime and manga. He had a reputation for being a bad dude there too, but not quite to the level we’ll be getting to here.

Also, he was actually two people, who were married. He is not a married couple in Last Stand of the Wreckers.

Overlord asks which one of the much weaker, smaller, and less terrifyingly kissable Decepticons is in charge, and Skyquake steps up, despite the fact that everyone is obviously nervous about the fact Overlord is here. Overlord lets Skyquake know that the plan Megatron came up with is out, and he’s got the new hotness that’ll really put Garrus-9 on a map labelled “Places That Are the Actual Worst.” Of course, Skyquake, who seems to think a guy named Overlord can be reasoned with, says that they can’t deviate from Megatron’s grand plan, and promptly is shot to death for his troubles.

And that’s a series wrap on Skyquake! Let’s give him a hand, folks!

With the little dude out of the way, Overlord’s decided it’s time to go full cowl on the Autobots, ripping them limb from limb. Literally, in some cases. It’s pretty gruesome, but then again, that’s kind of the point. This is a pretty dark miniseries, and not just because of all the violence- but we’ll get to all that later on.

With the Autobots subdued, it’s time for Overlord to really strut his stuff. He releases all the Decepticon prisoners, and promises them a grand old time of torturing their former captives. As a show of good will…? he throws them Fort Max to play with, saying that the only rule is they have to at least TRY to not kill him.

Smash cut to two years, four months, later.

Some nerds just got put on the Wreckers, and they truly are the cream of the crop.

Garrus-9’s gonna be in good hands.

The dude who’s totally copping Optimus Prime’s look is Pyro, and the little dude with the blue helmet and tragic backstory is Ironfist. There’s also Dipstick, but this isn’t about him.

Just as things look like they can’t get any more exploded, their ride shows up, and it’s time to go. They say they’ll catch Dipstick later, but that’s honestly pretty unlikely, given the nature of the Wreckers as a group.

The boys load up into the ship, but find something not quite to their expectations- instead of Ultra Magnus being there to greet them, it’s none other than Verity Carlo, human extraordinaire!

And she’s in her jammies. No real point in getting dressed for a bunch of guys who don’t even understand the concept of nudity, I guess, though I do have to question how vacuum sealed her breasts are.

Unless Verity is one of those godless heathens who actually owns an underwire sports bra.

The boys react to their first human in different ways- Ironfist has his parental instincts kick in hard, immediately ready to protect and potentially die for Verity. The others are a little less impressed, claiming that she’s some sort of stowaway who Magnus only puts up with because she’s good at playing house.

Kind of weird that these giant robots are so good at sexism, seeing as at this point, none of them should even know what a woman is.

This is the point where the big guns come in to greet our boys.

So, here’s the deal: Garrus-9’s been out of contact with the rest of the Autobots for over a year at this point, and it was recently revealed by a mole in the Decepticon Justice Division that anyone getting even remotely close to the planet has been shot down. The destruction of the space bridges means that only a few folks are able to get to the place- cue the Wreckers.

Our boys have been chosen because they’ve done a lot of good work, and protected those around them. It’s an honor to be a Wrecker, but there’s always a catch:

I’m sure it’ll be fine!

Flashback to two years ago, back on Garrus-9, and Overlord’s really enjoying his time on the prison planet, hunting Autobots for sport and scaring the bejesus out of everyone by popping out of nowhere.

This is a typical reaction to seeing Overlord when he DOESN’T intend to kill you. The guy’s a menace.

Looks like they caught their prey, and they’re feeling pretty good about it. What a nice thing for them, I’m glad they’re having fun.

How does this guy know where he’s going? His chest’s so tall.

Our Autobot isn’t going down without a fight, though, as he takes the spear they’re stabbing him with and gives the ‘Cons a taste of their own medicine.

For about two seconds anyway, then he gets wasted by Overlord.

Of course, Overlord’s an equal-opportunity sadist, and also blasts the two guys who let a wounded Autobot get the better of them. With the game concluded and a valuable lesson taught, the Decepticons retire to the base, Overlord ordering the tall-chested guy- Snare- to bring the Autobot for recycling, something that Snare doesn’t seem terribly thrilled to do.

Seriously though, has this dude ever seen his feet?

Back on Ultra Magnus’ ship, Ironfist’s gone and passed out. When he wakes up, he’s surrounded by the rest of the boys, who are really concerned about his well-being. Aww, it’s sweet that they care so much about their buddy.

Ironfist brushes off the concern, saying that he’s fine, and then we’re introduced to his deep, dark, horrible secret.

He’s a massive fucking nerd.

And so are the guys who worked on this story. T’muk, indeed. Also, this robot has... my word, are those fingerprints? Roche, you spoil us.

Ironfist writes datalogs on the Wreckers in his spare time under the screen name Fisitron - Wreckers: Declassified, it’s called. Which, you know, good for him.

Well this panel’s art direction isn’t ominous AT ALL.

Springer enters the scene at this point, also very concerned about Ironfist, to an honestly interesting degree. Almost like he knows something. Ironfist, again, brushes it off. Kup notes that Springer seems like he’s got something on his mind, which he does.

That something is the fact that he’s most likely sending these boys to die, as is the nature of the Wreckers.

Kup points out that it always feels worse when people die under your personal command, then asks if Springer’s conscience is being weighed on by Impactor at all. Springer seems like he really doesn’t want to talk about Impactor. Before the conversation can get any more soaked in implications, the two are called to the bridge.

A flashback to a month prior on Garrus-9: Overlord watches as Kick-Off brutalizes a Decepticon, Borehole, in combat for his amusement. It seems like Kick-Off’s done pretty well for himself in the nightmare hellscape that is Garrus-9, though it’s probably because he’s running on basic survival instincts at this point as opposed to any actual enjoyment of what’s happening around him.

Kick-Off wins the fight by ripping Borehole’s head off.

That’s pretty metal. Most of what happens on Garrus-9 is pretty metal. Not in a good way. But metal nonetheless.

With the fight finished, Overlord congratulates the victor, and invites him back to his quarters to pick out his prize. Kick-Off seems to be off in his own little world at this point, probably disassociating due to trauma.

Back with the Wreckers, we finally see Ultra Magnus, Verity’s put a shirt on- likely at Magnus’ request- and we see what Springer and Kup were called to the bridge for. Looks like a Decepticon ship’s been shooting out a distress signal, and it ain’t lookin’ so hot at present. Ultra Magnus attempts to hail, but it looks like too little, too late, as the thing’s hull integrity goes kaput and the whole thing explodes.

Seems like the end of that, right?

Nah.

Wow, that sure seems like it’ll be a problem. Better shoot that mysterious figure to death before they can be recognized by the cast and cause a whole slew of issues.

Aw, man! Too late. Looks like someone broke out of jail, and nobody is happy to see him.

With that character reveal, we end Issue #1 of Last Stand of the Wreckers.

#transformers #jro #last stand of the wreckers #issue 1 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #story plotting #wreckers trilogy

[roseskiesandbutterflies]

Killer Queen - Chapter 12: Thank God It’s Christmas

Summary: Life is easy when things go your way. I know this from experience. I also know that that can disappear in an instant and that you have to be able to rely on your friends. Luckily my name is Arabella Ruth White and I’m the fifth marauder. But I want to show you the girl behind the mask. It takes a lot of work to be this fabulous, darling. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name.)

A/N: So hello again! I know it’s been 3 months since I last updated this fic, and a lot has changed since August so let me catch you up real quick. First of all, in the UK we basically came out of lockdown only to go back into it last week so that’s great. I’m in Year 11 now which is the last year of high school if you didn’t know, and I’m in the middle of my mocks right now, so my free time has plummeted. This unfortunately means that updates across all of my fics will be much slower for the foreseeable future, or at least until Bojo finally cancels our exams. We can but hope.

I hope you enjoy this chapter! Sorry it’s kind of a filler but I promise that the plot is properly about to kick in, just like I said a couple chapters ago. I’ve realised that I’m now the same age as these characters which makes things a lot easier in terms of writing them realistically. Also I’ve decided that all of the characters and just this whole fic in general has main character energy which is Good. We love to see it. Anyways I shall see you next time! Hasta luego.

Warning(s): swearing

Word Count: 3.1k+

Inspiration: random headcanons I found on Tumblr and Pinterest, The Boy Who Killed God by SeraMGrigori on AO3, All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on AO3, Sweet Things by Cocomouse on AO3

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26

Ask/comment to be on my taglist! Let me know if it’s for a specific fandom(s). Full list is in my bio.

Ruth had her face pressed right up to the glass of the tiny kitchen window, making it smear up from her breath, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She curiously watched her cat, Sooty, cautiously interact with the much larger cat from down the road, circling each other in a manner that would be rather ominous if the former wasn’t a quarter of the latter’s size. Sooty was almost completely obscured by the overgrown grass that was screaming to be cut; Ruth wouldn’t have even known he was outside if it wasn’t for his extraordinarily long tail poking through.

“Ruth, why are you sitting on my poor washing machine?” her mother came in, half amused, half concerned, “You’re going to break the damn thing.”

She gasped in mock offence and turned round to look at her, “Are you trying to say something, Mum?”

She gave her a knowing look and said, “You know that’s not what I meant. Now, you didn’t answer my question, what on earth are you doing on my washing machine?”

She jumped off before Jocelyn could chastise her any further, “I’m waiting for the boys. We were saying about going down the pier or something today so we could give each other our presents, and I’m waiting for James’s parents to apparate them all to our garden. And they’re taking forever,” she pouted, elongating the last word way more than necessary.

“Well, what time did you tell them to come round?”

Ruth thought about it for a second before saying, “Around one o’clock, I think.”

She raised an eyebrow, “And what time is it now?”

She looked at the ground and mumbled, “Half twelve.”

“Well, there you go. You have half an hour, and you haven’t even got dressed yet,” she pointed out.

“But-”

“No buts. You’re not going out in your dressing gown so go and get dressed,” she said, playfully swatting Ruth with the tea towel and chasing her out of the kitchen.

She laughed maniacally as she ran out of the room, “But Mother, I am dressed,” she said, taking off her dressing gown like a stripper.

“Then why are you wearing your dressing gown?” Jocelyn asked exasperatedly.

“Because it’s bloody cold!” Ruth grinned.

“Language,” she muttered, shaking her head with a smile but sobering up when she noticed Ruth’s face fall, “What’s up with you?”

She faltered for a moment, caught off guard by Jocelyn’s quick observations, “Mum, did you, erm, did you hear about Melanie?” she grimaced with the fear of treading grounds such as those. Her cousin hadn’t mentioned anything about who she had told about the pregnancy, so for all Ruth knew, Jocelyn didn’t have a clue and she was about to get Melanie into some serious trouble.

Luckily for them both, Jocelyn’s face softened with understanding, “I heard. Your aunt told me all about it a couple weeks ago.”

“What do you think about it all? I mean, Christ, Mum, she’s only seventeen,” Ruth sighed, running a hand across her hair with an anxiety that she hadn’t even realised she had been suppressing.

“Come here,” she said, taking Ruth into her arms and holding her for a moment, “She’s going to be okay. She’s not alone, remember that. She’s got your aunt and us and that boyfriend of hers. She’ll be fine.”

A sudden knock at the window followed by four familiar faces made both Ruth and her mum look up in surprise, followed by a disappointed laugh from the former when she noticed that Sirius was only wearing his signature leather jacket, with no hat, scarf or gloves. She opened the kitchen door to let them in, hugging each of them as they entered.

Jocelyn smiled at the group before winking at her daughter, “I’ll make myself busy, then. Have fun today,” she said as she left with her steaming cup of tea.

Ruth grinned before turning to the boys, “Sirius, darling, it’s December, not June. Where the hell is your coat? And don’t tell me you’re too cool to actually keep yourself warm,” she added before the boy in question could say anything.

“Leave it, Ruth, I’ve been trying to talk some sense into him all morning, he won’t listen,” James sighed dramatically, sounding scarily like an exhausted mother.

“I won’t listen? You’re the one who nearly strangled me with that damn scarf!” Sirius exclaimed, looking desperately to the others for back-up, only to be met with shrugs.

“You dress appropriately for the weather, or you face the consequences,” James deadpanned, before bursting into laughter from the miffed expression on Sirius’s face.

“God, you really have become your mum, haven’t you?” Peter smirked, holding back his own laughter.

“Shut up, Pete!” he whined, stomping on the ground petulantly.

“Now you’re my brother,” Ruth snorted.

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

The fresh air bit at their noses as they made their way down the bustling high street, bracing themselves against the crisp December wind. Sirius was still the only one not wearing a coat, the rest of the group bundled up in their Gryffindor scarves which may or may not have been the only scarves they owned. Except for fifteen-year-old-grandmother Remus, who absolutely had a worrying obsession with anything you could make via knitting and the like. Peter had been positively swallowed up, and between his hat that looked about two sizes too big and his scarf, you could only see his eyes and the top of his nose.

“It’s a bit nippy out here, lads,” Ruth said, just as an icy gust of wind hit them, bringing tears to eyes, and actually making Peter stumble a little bit. As Jocelyn said at every possible opportunity, the wind was always stronger at the seaside.

“Is it really, Ruth? Gosh, I hadn’t noticed, thank you for telling me,” Remus glared at her, which would have been tenfold more menacing if half of his face wasn’t concealed by windswept hair.

“You are most welcome, dear Remus,” she grinned, sticking her tongue out at him in defiance.

“Children. Actual children,” Sirius muttered in a tone not at all dissimilar to that of an exasperated father.

“Says the one who refused to put his scarf on because he’s a stubborn bastard,” James said pointedly.

“Oh, you’re still going on about that one?”

“Always, my dear boy, always. I’m already making sure my best man’s speech mentions it at least twice,” he said proudly.

“He’s gotta find someone to marry first,” Peter pointed out, voice muffled from under his scarf.

“And what’s that supposed to meant, Pete?” Sirius rounded on him, forgetting completely about James’s strange obsession with his lack of winter clothing.

“Well, I don’t know but it might have something to do with the fact that you’ve never had a girlfriend for longer than three weeks,” Ruth shrugged.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Ruth,” Remus laughed, “But she does have a point, Sirius.”

“Why are you all ganging up on me, it’s very rude,” he huffed, “Anyway, it’s not my fault that I want to win the bet me and Ruth started in third year.”

“Darling, you’ve always had the option to pull out and admit that I am proud to be the biggest hoe that Hogwarts has ever seen,” she said with as much faux innocence as one can muster while talking about sex.

Sirius was silent for a moment before pointing out, “Wait, hang on, I’ve had a girlfriend for longer than three weeks. I went out with Emmeline Vance for about five months!”

“You mean you were on again, off again with Emmeline Vance for about five months,” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“You’re both gonna end up clapped as anything by the time we leave,” Peter mumbled as they walked through the threshold of their destination: Ruth’s beloved record shop.

Cromer’s one and only record shop was a favourite haunt of Ruth’s. If anyone wanted to find her during the school holidays, the record shop would be the first place they would go to, the second being the arcade on the promenade because they have the best games darling, and the third being the beach. It never seemed to cross anyone’s mind to look for her at her own home; it was a generally unspoken rule of sorts in the town that seeing Ruth at her house was as rare as seeing a double rainbow. It was the place where a good part of her pocket money went to, and the owner was incredibly grateful to have such a loyal customer. Ruth just told him to consider himself lucky that his was the only establishment in walking distance of her house that supplied her with her vinyl obsession. And oh boy, did he do just that. The White family were responsible for a good twenty per cent of his sales.

They filed into the shop, instantly taking off their hats when the somewhat aggressive heat hit them. The limited daylight spilt in through the floor-length windows that flanked the door, highlighting the records on show. The shop itself was rather small, with only two aisles running straight down to the till. They were separated by cases upon cases of albums, packed like sardines into their crates and sorted semi-alphabetically. Posters adorned almost every available space on the otherwise dull walls, looking over the customers with a keen interest. Underneath them were further crates, these ones pushed back against the walls and full of singles, which were ordered even more haphazardly than the albums if you could believe that. Ruth made her way down one of the aisles, leaving the boys to browse artists that they barely even knew. At the back end of the shop sat the counter, behind which sat the owner, Steve.

Steve was a rather short and stout man who had the grave misfortune of looking around a whole decade older than he actually was. That was more so to do with the way with which he held himself, and the fact that he wore those glasses that had a chain attached that you only see on elderly men, than his physical appearance. He had a terribly receding hairline that seemed to creep back every time Ruth came into his shop. She reckoned that he’d be completely bald by the time she left Hogwarts for good. He always seemed to wear the same attire, consisting of loose-fitting trousers and a grey t-shirt that always had a stain that Ruth would rather not enquire after. His fingers were coated with a nicotine stain that you only get after smoking for a good few decades, teeth and fingernails tinted yellow.

His smile was warm, and his eyes lit up like a match when he noticed Ruth walking up to the counter, “Arabella, good to see you!”

“You too, Steve, how’s everything been these past couple of months?” she asked, leaning on the counter with her elbows.

“Not bad, not bad,” he said, “A lot better than this time last year, that’s for sure. Thanks, by the way, for the advert in the newspaper suggestion. Business has gone up a great deal since then.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you give up the shop that easily, could I? Nah, you’ve supplied me with the very best music these past few years, it was the least I could do,” she beamed.

He smiled gratefully at her before glancing at the boys behind her, leafing through bands they’d never even heard of for the most part, “I see you’ve brought your mates at last.”

Ruth snorted as they all poked their heads up and waved at the same time, each one oblivious to the other, “Yeah, I thought I might as well, I’ve been putting it off for too long.”

“One of them your boyfriend?” he winked, laughing at Ruth’s mortified expression.

“No! God, no, that’s a horrible thought,” she shivered, recoiling in disgust.

“What’s a horrible thought?” Sirius asked as he sauntered up to the counter.

“Your face,” Ruth muttered as he swatted her shoulder, mouth agape in shock.

“How rude! I can’t believe you would say something like that!” he gasped before turning around and whining, “James! Ruth’s being mean to me!”

It was then James’s turn to gasp in disappointment, “Is she? Oh, come here, I’ll protect you from the meanie,” he said in the most motherly voice he could muster, opening his arms and hugging Sirius while glaring at Ruth.

She stared at them in disbelief, looking at Remus and Peter for guidance, only to be met with shrugs. She resolved to simply shaking her head in exasperation and turning to the ‘new releases’ section of the shop.

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

“You know what we should do,” Ruth said, holding up a chip to emphasise her point, “We should go on a gang holiday when we’re older. Just go travelling for a couple of weeks or something.”

They were currently sitting on the beach which, as you can probably imagine, isn’t the most pleasant of experiences in the middle of winter. The harsh wind nipped at their faces and Peter’s nose was crimson with the cold, but they found themselves sitting there anyway, watching the teal waves advance and retreat under the December mist that lazily rested on the ocean’s surface. They were sharing a couple of bags of chips that they’d bought from the chippy just aound the corner from Ruth’s house, trying their best to shield them from the prying seagulls circling the skies above them like hawks.

Peter audibly gasped with excitement, “We should get one of those caravans that muggles used to drive all the time in the sixties.”

“Yes! And we could charm it so it’s bigger on the inside like the tents they have at the Quidditch World Cup!” James added, ecstatic just to have been able to chime in with a Quidditch reference, let alone about the actual holiday. Sirius grinned stupidly as they high fived, making Ruth cringe and groan like an embarrassed daughter having to watch her parents kiss. Though, once she thought about it, that analogy was pretty accurate, perhaps more than she would have liked.

Remus held out his hands in suspense, something he always did when he’d thought of a master plan, “Two words. Tardis. Caravan.”

The sounds that then erupted from the group could not be described as human, more like a group of over-excited seagulls.

Once they’d calmed down, which took more time than it probably should have done, James suggested, “We should go to France so Sirius can show his French off!”

Sirius glared at him, muttering under his breath and by doing so, proving James’s point, “Putain de chienne. Je ne me montre pas, vous seriez tous perdus sans moi.”

“Oui, oui, er, baguette,” Peter snorted, rubbing his arm when Sirius hit at him playfully.

“Right, well,” Remus cut in before they jumped at each other’s throats, “Presents? The whole reason we’re here?”

“Gosh, Moony, here I was thinking that you were here because you wanted to see us and enjoy our company, but no, you just want your damn chocolate,” Sirius huffed.

Remus blinked at him for a second before asking tentatively, “Moony?”

“Moony,” he nodded.

Remus pinched his brow and sighed, “I’m going to regret asking but why?”

“Werewolf. Moon. Moony,” he explained as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

He raised an eyebrow at him, “Do I get a say in this by any chance?”

“No. I’ve thought of names for all of us, actually. I’m Padfoot, Peter’s Wormtail, Ruth is Silverspot and James is Prongs,” he counted off his fingers before nodding resolutely.

James smirked, eyes gleaming and Ruth already knew what he was going to say, “Am I Prongs because of my big–”

She slapped a hand over his mouth and glared at him menacingly, “Finish that question and I swear to God, James, I will slap you into next year.”

“Sirius, I think you’ve had far too much spare time on your hands,” Remus said while James and Ruth engaged in a very mature staring competition that lasted all of ten seconds.

“Yeah, five days without us and you’ve given us all nicknames,” Peter added, looking rather concerned for his friend’s mental state.

“Do you want me to change yours to Massive Knobhead?” Sirius asked with a scarily fake smile on his face.

James cut in before any fighting could ensue, “Okay, let’s get on to the presents, shall we?”

Sirius just shrugged and made a noise of vague agreement, while Peter just looked rather relieved to avoid conflict.

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

“Sirius, will you keep still!”

It was the fifth time that Remus had had to utter those words in the past two minutes, much to everyone’s annoyance and to Sirius’s amusement.

“Keeping still is for wimps!” Sirius announced with a stupid grin on his face before ruffling his hair once again.

“My fingers are gonna fall off from the cold at this rate,” Peter scowled, shooting daggers at Sirius with his eyes. Remus had given him a polaroid camera for Christmas after he’d been going on and on about wanting a muggle one all year, and he’d been trying his best to get a photo of the others for what felt like hours.

“Sirius stand still or I will petrificus totalus your sorry ass,” Ruth groaned, and James had to suppress a cheer when Sirius finally, finally, did as he was told. Peter took the photo as quickly as he could and waited patiently for the photo to develop, grinning when the image came into colour. “Let us see, then!” she exclaimed impatiently, holding her hands out like a baby would and snatching the photo from Peter.

“Oi, careful, I did not wait that long for Sirius to stop moving for you to just rip the bloody photo in half,” Peter huffed, re-joining the group with a false reluctance.

James grinned when he got a look at the photo, “Oh, Pete, that’s a bloody good photo. You should be a photographer or something,” he said, ruffling Peter’s hair playfully as the boy’s face flushed red.

“He’s got a point, Wormtail,” Remus mused, watching Sirius’s face light up at his use of the nickname, “It is a good photo. Though it’s weird having us stood still for once, I’m so used to us being in magical pictures.”

“I like it,” Ruth smiled, glancing at the boys affectionately, “I think it makes it even more special,” she paused for a moment, inhaling the very essence of that moment and relishing in it, “Happy Christmas, lads.”

#hp #Harry Potter #Harry Potter fic #harry potter imagine #Marauders #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #70s marauders #James Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #peter pettigrew #marauders oc #marauders headcanons #marauders imagine

[reality-warp]

A/N: So I finished Jedi: Fallen Order and sweet God it was way better and more emotional than I was prepared for. And then before I knew it my mind starting rolling out this idea before I could slam on the brakes. What else is new?

With work stress, difficult physiotherapy, and seasonal affective disorder all kicking my butt right now, theres no way in hell I’m going to have the time or enegry to turn this idea into an acctual polished fic. But after the idea refusing to leave me alone several weeks I decided I just needed to sit down and get the beginning out of my system.

Not my best work by a long shot, but it’s been so good to finally get writing again after a year of struggling.

Set post-game, this follows crew of the Mantis as they start their search for others who survived Order 66, and opens with the POV of one ex-Jedi Healers padawan (alien OC) hiding out in a hospital on Lothal...

Remedial Biomancy - Part 1/5 Auri

The first thing all padawans learned when they apprenticed as healers in the Jedi Temple was that your hands were always going to be the bloodiest.

Bloodier than any knights. Bloodier than any murderer. And if you chose the path of healing, you were going to be living up close and personal with suffering, pain, and not always be able to help. It was not a job for the faint of heart, or for the thin-skinned. But Auri Madraan doubted even Master Sayf, the man who’d taught her everything she knew about the horrors and wonders of being a Jedi Healer, would have been able to remain stoic in the face of all this. 

Bodybags lined the room.

Dozens of them lined up in neat rows stretching from one end of the cold storeroom to the other. Twenty-six men. Fifteen women. Forty-one in total. She knew because it had been her job to count, scan and evaluate each one of them. She’d already finished the details of the last entry on her datapad, and now she just found herself staring into the cold room, struck hollow by the stark emptiness of it against her senses.

The absolute silence of life in a room so crowded.

“Medic Rinna,” The tinny voice of her droid assistant using her fake name broke through her daze, floating over from after making his final scan. “I believe that was the last one. Shall I transmit the results directly to Head Medic Jorran?”

Auri shook her head, both in reply and attempting to pull herself together, rubbing her tired eyes and tapping the save function on her datapad. She’d been awake for well over thirty-two hours and desperately needed to sleep. But this was something she always made herself do every time there was a death.

Master Sayf had always said one should never let lost life become something that felt normal…

“No, that’s ok PANN. I’ll deliver it myself,” she answered, her voice a bit crackly from hours of not speaking.

Her Prognosis Analytic Neural Network droid—more commonly referred to as PANN—bobbed in the air where he hovered, amber optical sensors flickering over her face. She could feel him resisting the urge to share how high her cortisol levels were, and that she would start to become dangerously inefficient if she stayed awake much longer. But even if she were already tucked up in her tiny room in the hospital staff quarters, she doubted she would have been able to shut her eyes for the thoughts and images burning through her mind.

There had been another tunnel collapse in the Lothal mines a day ago, and the men and women now lined up on the floor of the hospital basement were the only ones lucky enough to have been close to the entrance for their bodies to be dug out. The initial evaluations of the first-aiders and Auri’s reports both read suffocation and crush syndrome as the cause of death—no need for full autopsies or further investigation. That was what Head Medic Jorran had made clear what he expected to see, and consequences to anyone who thought otherwise.

But Auri knew differently.

She knew the truth of what had killed these people. She’d known the moment she’d touched a hand to the brow of one of the young men, the story of his broken body unfolding out before her like a story in black bruises and shattered bone.

They hadn’t died from lack of oxygen, they’d been killed when a toxin in the earth they’d been mining had been released as a gas. The Imperial mining operation running the dig had realised what had happened as their workers began dropping, and they had quickly collapsed one of the tunnels in an effort to both cover it up and stop the gas from escaping.

No one else knew. And if her Imperial loyalist boss had his way, no one else ever would.

Only her.

The thought made her want to be sick. She might have done just that were it not for the whooshing sound of the elevator doors opening just behind her, the sounds of footfalls on the metal floor.

“Hey Rinna, I hoped I’d find you down here—” Lyle, her co-worker and fellow junior medic broke off halfway through his sentence behind her, clearly noticing the contents of the room for the first time. She heard the air leave him in a single stunned rush, like someone had jabbed him in the solar plexus. “Maker, I’d heard it was bad, but this…”

Auri didn’t answer or turn to look at him.

Lyle was another recent emergency employee of the short-staffed Lothal capital hospital. He was human, blonde, good looking, and unfortunately just enough aware of it for it to be utterly confused by her disinterest. They’d been working the same shifts for the past two months, and Auri wasn’t sure why, but he had started developing what a charitable person would have called a fondness for her. An uncharitable person would have called it annoying. Her polite but repeated rejections only seemed to urge him on, and he always seemed to turn up when she most wanted to be alone…

This was definitely one of those times.

“You ok?” He asked her earnestly, coming up and placing a too-familiar hand on her shoulder, apparently completely unaware what a stupid question it was.

No, she wanted to say. To scream.

To yell that nothing about this was ok.

That she hadn’t been ok for the past five years.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, clipping her datapad back onto her belt and turning past him towards the elevator. She refused to look back at him or the forty-one bodybags filled with people who would never have their truths heard.

Who would never get justice.

She stabbed the button for the top floor without waiting, and Lyle quickly dashed after her, slipping in just in time and almost getting his scrubs caught in the door. A significant part of her really wished they’d cut him off before he could get inside.

“Rinna,” he started, once again reaching to touch her shoulder, but clearly thought better of it this time when she shifted away. “You sure you’re alright? You covered a triple shift today, and you look kinda… well, paler than usual.”

Something halfway between a laugh and a snort escaped her before she could stop it.

Ex-Jedi padawan Auri Madraan was a haedrathi, an uncommon near-human species from the Haedra system whose only real biological difference to humans was that they’d evolved in underground caverns, which meant their bodies didn’t process vitamin D in the same way. The result was naturally pasty skin, snow-white hair, and eyes so sensitive to light that they had to be covered by protective black contact lenses near constantly to prevent blindness.

She was likely the palest being on this entire damned planet.

How this guy had managed to become a medic, she had to wonder sometimes…

“I’m fine, Lyle. Just tired. And doing autopsy scans of tunnel collapse victims isn’t high on my list of favourite things…” she trailed off into the silence of the elevator, the only noises breaking the tension the whooshing of the passing floors. 

She sighed heavily, rubbing her eyes again. She had been working herself harder than normal, but focus and eventual exhaustion seemed to be the only way to keep her thoughts and nightmares at bay lately. It was clearly taking its toll on her temper—and for all his dogged determination to get her to swoon over him like the other nurses did, Lyle was only being kind. 

“Sorry. Yes, I’m ok. Anyway, what are you doing down here? Didn’t you finish half an hour ago?” She asked more gently this time.

Lyle scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck as the elevator continued its rapid ascent, and even though she wasn’t looking at him, she could feel his gaze running over her.

“You’re going to deliver those reports in person, right? I thought I could keep you company on the way to Jorran’s office, if you like. Give you an excuse to get out of the quickly.” he offered, an almost painful note of hope in his voice. “Look, I’ve been meaning to ask if you’d like to spend more time together? Like, maybe… as a date?”

Auri only managed to restrain her sigh by virtue of the fact that at least he’d managed to wait until they were out of the room full of dead bodies before trying to officially ask her out. If he hadn’t, her training might have failed her entirely, and she’d have simply brained him with her datapad and left him down there. 

She was saved from shooting him down by her droid rounding on her, a distinctly disapproving note in its metallic voice.

“Medic Rinna, I really must insist you engage in at least one REM sleep cycle as soon as possible. Your cortisol levels are impractically high, and—”

“Yes, thank you PANN,” she interrupted the fussing droid, cutting him off before he could launch into a full-blown lecture. “I’ll get some sleep as soon as I’ve delivered the reports. Why don’t you both go on to the dorms and get plugged in to charge for the night.”

“But—” PANN and Lyle started at the same time.

“I’ll be five minutes max. No need for an escort,” she cut them both off, deliberately not meeting Lyle gaze. The elevator came to a stop at their floor, the doors whooshed open and Auri quickly stepped out before either of them could try and stop her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lyle looked crestfallen, but PANN just grumbled, immediately floating away back towards the staff quarters at the other end of the building.

She’d tried tinkering with the little medical droids AI processor a few years ago before arriving on Lothal in an effort to improve his analytical speed, but it had somehow affected his personality algorithms too. Now instead of being a clinically detached medical encyclopaedia, he fussed when her stress levels got too high and chipped in with sarcastic commentary whenever she least needed it, and she had no idea how to fix it. It was like having a nagging metallic nursemaid following her around every day. She’d found herself cursing the fact that she’d never taken any programming courses back during her training; but metal, chips and circuit boards had never been her area of expertise…

Cal had always been way better with that stuff anyway.

The sound of his name, even inside her own head was enough to send a lance of pain through her chest. She buried it quickly before it could show on her face, forcing a small, weak smile into its place.

“Thanks for offering, Lyle. But I’d rather just get this done and go to bed. I’ll see you for the next shift,” she said over her shoulder.

“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled, failing to hide his disappointment as she strode off. “Night, Rinna.”

Auri started making her way towards the Head Medic’s office on the far side of the building, but instead of heading there directly, she turned down another hallway and made a detour towards the recovery wards.

There was someone more important she needed to see first…

Three minutes later she was swiping her ID card to enter the paediatric wing, the smallest but also most colourfully painted section of the hospital by far. The wards weren’t particularly big, only four beds to a room, and at this time of night, all the kids in them were fast asleep. The one Auri entered was at the end of the long, brightly painted hallway, and it was the only one with just a single kid curled up on his own inside.

“Rinna?” The boy mumbled, hearing the door sliding open as she entered, turning over to peer sleepily at her from under the blankets. It hadn’t been safe for Auri to use her real name in five years, but the smile the little boy gave her as he saw her was always just enough to ease the ache of missing it.

The kid coiled under the hospital blankets with bio-monitor patches all over his chest was human, small even for his years, with dark hair, coppery tanned skin, vivid blue eyes, and an infectious grin in the rare moments when he was feeling ok. His entire family had been living on Lothal since the days of the Republic, and the day he’d first come to the ward a week ago and met Auri, he’d excitedly told her that he loved haedrathi pop music, was a crack shot with a slingshot, and was going to be a pilot one day.

The name on the bed chart read: BRIDGER, EZRA.

“Hey little soldier,” she smiled at him, this time a genuine one, quietly shutting the door behind her. “I just came to check up on you before my shift ends. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Ezra lied, trying to sit up. “I don’t even think I’ll even need my meds tonight.”

Auri gave him a sceptical look, eyeing his shaky arms struggling to support him, and the low blood oxygen level reading on his bio-monitor.

It turned out the same toxins that had killed the workers in the mines had been leaking into the water supply a couple of weeks before, and Ezra had got a heaping dose before his parents realised what was wrong. Now it was wreaking havoc on his organs, the toxin fiendishly difficult to purge, especially for smaller children whose body mass was less than an adult. Ezra was barely six, short and skinny as a rail, and he was getting sicker by the day, even with the treatments and Auri’s regular help during their checkups.

Still, he was a fighter, and stubborn as a Loth-cat. Especially when it came to foul-tasting meds.

She placed a hand on one hip, trying not to smile.

“Oh really?”

Ezra scowled determinedly, but on his young round face, it was closer to a pout.

“Really!”

She raising a brow theatrically at him.

“Then I supposed you won't need this either?”

The kids face lit up as she pulled a little album stack out of her pocket and held it up—an innocent little palm-sized chip that stored sound data and could be plugged into any system or droid to play music. She’d managed to find one of the bands he’d mentioned while complaining how boring and quiet it was in the ward on his own, and she’d promised to bring it during her next visit.

She waved the album stack in front of him before setting it pointedly on the side table.

“Meds first, then music.”

Ezra pouted at her again, but dropped his little shoulders in defeat.

“Urgh, fine,” he grumbled.

Auri couldn’t help but smile sadly to herself as she opened the medication compartment on his bedside table, and began measuring out his prescribed dose of immune boosters. A nurse or med-droid would have been round later to give him his nightly meds, but they were so short-staffed at the moment that they likely wouldn’t have finally got to him until late at night. The kid was already struggling with his condition so much, she didn’t see any need to keep wake him once he finally managed to get some rest.

And she would have been lying if she said she hadn’t wanted to visit the one person in this hospital she actually enjoyed spending time with.

Once she’d double-checked the measurements, she pressed the little measuring cup into his hands and poured him a glass of water to wash it down with. Ezra took it without complaint but pulled a face as he gulped it down.

“Urgh! Why does it have to taste so bad?”

“That’s how you know it’s good for you,” she teased, setting the cup aside and handing the glass of water over. He took it gratefully as Auri pulled a pressure band out of the side table and wrapped it carefully around his skinny arm. “Just going to quickly check your blood pressure too, then you’re all done.”

In truth, she didn’t really need the band to check his blood pressure, but it gave the excuse she needed to get close enough to use her Biomancy.

She’d had the ability for as long as she could remember—a rare talent even among the Force sensitives that let her sense and read a persons life force through direct contact. It meant she’d effectively been able to tell when a person was healthy or sick since she was a child, and after years of training in the Jedi Houses of Healing she was now able to pinpoint and identify the cause of almost any pain or illness with a single touch.

Or in Ezra’s case, it allowed her to sense every part of his body that was struggling most against the poison in his system, and do what little she could during her checkup visits to help him. She’d added specific toxin absorbers into his daily meds to try and help take the pressure off his kidneys, used tiny amounts of Force biomanipulation to boost his white blood cell count, but to be honest there wasn’t an awful lot left she could do. Pretty soon the only thing she’d be able to do was numb his pain receptors so he could sleep comfortably. She hadn’t even been able to think about how she’d break the news to his parents that he was unlikely to ever fully recover…

Frustration and regret roiled deep in her chest as she read his bio-signs, seeing barely any improvement since she’d checked the day before. If only she could just do what she’d been trained for years by Master Sayf to do. To reach out with the Force and help heal the actual source of the problem, not just clumsily try to manage the symptoms. To be the healer she’d worked so hard to become since she’d first walked into the Jedi Temple at two years old.

But it was a different Galaxy now.

She’d only been on Lothal six months. If she cracked now, used her true power and took the risk of being found out, at best she’d have to flee. Start all over again.

At worst she’d be found by Purge Troopers and executed on the spot.

“Hey, Rinna,” Ezra asked abruptly, pulling her out of her morbid thoughts.

“Mmm?” She answered, pretending to check the pressure monitor before releasing the air and removing it from his arm. He pointed at a spot around her collarbone.

“What is that?”

For a second she didn’t know what he was looking at. Then she saw that he was pointing at the cord she wore around her throat. It must have crept up without her noticing, and was now barely peeking out over the neckline of her scrubs. She shrugged it back under the grey-green cloth a bit too quickly to be subtle.

“It’s nothing, little soldier. Nothing important.”

“I always see you wearing it, every time you visit,” he pressed, a tiny pout appearing again. “None of the other nurses or doctors ever wear any jewellery. How come you do?”

“Because this isn’t jewellery,” she answered automatically, then mentally kicked herself for it. Ezra just kept looking at her expectantly, and she knew instinctively he wasn’t going to let it go. So with a sigh, and against her better judgement, she pulled it out just enough for him to see the small jade green stone bound at the end. “It’s called a kyber crystal.”

Ezra’s vivid blue eyes went wide in wonder.

“Isn’t that what’d in Jedi lightsabers?” He breathed.

“They use to be. But not anymore,” she murmured, quickly tucking the cord back beneath her shirt. “It’s just a silly trinket. But one that you have to keep a real secret, ok? I’m not supposed to have it, and I’ll get in a lot of trouble if you tell anyone.”

He gave her a solemn look and a slow nod, his dark hair flopping adorably.

“I won’t tell.”

“Swear?”

He drew an X over his chest.

“Swear.”

Auri tried to regard him seriously but eventually smiled, unable to stop herself. He was a starry-eyed kid, but he was also the most honest and genuine person in this place.

“Good. Now let’s get you tucked in. Your folks will be in to visit tomorrow morning and you don’t want to sleep through it.”

He nodded, coughing a little as he pulled the covers up to his chin again, peeking out and giving her and the album stack on the side table another hopeful look.

“Can you put the music on?”

Auri rolled her eyes with a smile, but nodded, bopping him lightly on the nose with the stack.

“Ok, but only on the lowest volume.”

She got up from the cot and started plugging the stack into the small radio near the door. Ezra coughed again, a bit harder this time. And then a strange noise came from him; a kind of gasping wheeze that quickly became a throaty cough, like he was struggling to catch his breath. Auri turned instinctively, feeling the pull of something wrong through her senses, only to see the colour had suddenly drained almost from Ezra’s round cheeks, leaving him a sickly grey colour.

“Ezra? What’s wrong?” She asked, dread creeping into her chest.

“R-Rinna…” he mumbled, sitting up and swaying dangerously on his cot, “I d-don’t feel good…”

He slumped sideways, almost falling out of the bed entirely. Auri shot across the room and caught him by the shoulders just in time. She tried to sit him up again, but he’d gone almost entirely limp, eyes rolling back in his head.

“Ezra? Ezra!"

He didn’t respond. Only continued to wheeze out breaths that were far more laboured than they should be.

Not wasting a second Auri rolled up his sleeve and touched her entire hand to his upper arm. That one solid point of contact brought a fresh flood of sensations, and she instantly understood, the breath slipping out of her in horror.

“Oh no…”

She could feel the frantic flutter of his pulse through her senses like a hummingbirds wings. Feel the pain of his insides and every laboured breath as if it were her own. The toxin had finally found its way into his heart, and the shock of it was causing the organ to beat wildly out of control.

Not wasting a breath, she yanked back the sheet and laid him out flat on the cot, tilting his head back to open his airway. He was so small it barely took even her any effort to lift him, his little form not even taking up half the space on the cot.

“Keep fighting hard as you can, little soldier,” she whispered, pulling out a syringe and a vial of cardiac stabiliser from the nearby emergency cart. She didn’t realise her hands were trembling until it took her three tries to get it filled correctly.

If this didn’t work…

She returned to his side, sliding the needle into his bicep and depressed the plunger, keeping a hand firmly on his arm and letting her Biomancy monitor his response better than any of the equipment around her could.

But…

“No, no come on, please…” she cursed under her breath, dread beginning to turn to panic.

It wasn’t working. She’d managed to slow his pulse and calm his adrenaline with the stabilising drugs, but it wasn’t enough. His heart was still beating out of rhythm and getting quickly worse. If that poison stayed in his body any longer she knew it was going to destroy his heart beyond any hope of repair…

The sight of those bodybags filling the room downstairs invaded her mind again. The image of one more of them, slightly smaller than the others—

No.

The thought rang through her head with the long dead voice of her master, and the panic in her chest stilled into sudden, familiar calm as she looked down at Ezra again. This time with all the years of lessons and practice she’d gone through to get here rushing in to fill the void.

To heal a hurt, you must first understand the hurt, padawan.

To ease the pain, you must know that pain.

She could still feel the poison lingering in him through her senses, could feel the damage it was doing through the contact. She also knew it wasn’t going to be enough to just remove some of it. Every last drop he’d managed to accumulate by drinking that contaminated water had to be pulled out if she was going to save him now.

So, taking one of his small, tanned hands in her considerably paler ones, Auri reached a hand out to hover over his chest, stretching out with the Force. It was like flexing an aching muscle that had long gone unused, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to do it. 

But then, her thoughts brushed up against a cluster of something cold and foreign. Something that wasn’t supposed to be there—a knot of wrongness caught up in the complex weave of life that made up all of Ezra.

She reached out further, and her mind stumbled over another. And another. And then another. Feeling the pressure building in her own head with the concentration, she forced herself to focus harder, latching her will onto all those knots of wrongness until she could feel every molecule of the poison scraping against her thoughts—a million pinpoints on a map laid out in the shape of the boy before her.

Then, as gentle as she could, Auri began to pull on all those pinpoints of wrongness.

If anyone had been watching, it might have looked at first like the young haedrathi medic was simply praying over the kid, one hand holding his while the other hovered over his chest. But then, ever so slowly, what looked like tiny beads of pale orange sweat began to appear all over the boy’s clammy skin. At first they were almost unnoticeable, but quickly they grew, forming together into bigger drops that began to slowly rise off him entirely, floating in dozens of perfect spheres up into the air.

She didn’t stop until all of those droplets had risen off Ezra’s clammy skin, and only when every last bit had left him did she shift her hand slightly, condensing them all into a single floating sphere the size of a large marble in the air.

Her head beginning to ache with the strain, Auri automatically reached a hand towards the side cart at the edge of the room, and a test tube flew into her grip as if pulled by a magnet. Sweat began to bead on her own brow as she guided the floating ball of poison into the glass before finally releasing her focus. The pale orange liquid fell straight into the container as if someone had finally turned the gravity back on, and Auri felt her hands trembling as she quickly stoppered it.

Her perception of the rest of the room flooded back in as she pulled in a few steadying breaths, if someone had turned the volume back on for the rest of the world…

Only then did she hear a noise come from directly behind her.

Auri whirled to face it, her head spinning and heart pounding as she automatically shoved the test-tube full of poison into her back pocket. Lyle was stood in the open doorway to the ward, a confused look on his face. For a horrible moment, she thought he’d seen everything, his gaze flickering in bewilderment between her, the boy on the cot, and the empty syringe of cardiac stabilisers on the side table. But the look softened to worry as he saw the expression on her face.

“Rinna, what happened? Is he ok?”

She was saved from trying to flat out lying when Ezra groaned. She turned back to him to see the boy’s vivid blue eyes flickering open as he began to regain consciousness.

“R-Rinna?” He rasped, and she immediately knelt next to him, gently stroking his messy hair back from his face.

“It’s ok. You’re ok, little soldier. You just had a bad spell,” she assured, calmly as she could despite her own racing heartbeat. He coughed a bit and she helped him take a few more gulps of water before gently laying him back down on the pillows. “Try to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.”

He was out barely ten seconds later, the exhaustion of having the poison forcibly purged from his body taking its toll.

But at least now he would live.

Auri covered him in an extra blanket from one of the other beds, and set the bio-monitoring system to alert her if there was any change to his vitals. Then, once she was sure he was as comfortable and safe as she could possibly leave him, she turned back to face a concerned-looking Lyle. He was gazing at her like he was desperate to somehow comfort her, but had no idea what to do or say to help.

“What happened?” He asked quietly the moment they were both outside.

“His heart, it started going tachy right after I gave him his meds. I barely got the stabilisers into him in time…”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but she still hated the taste of it on her tongue. Lyle glanced down at her still trembling hands, and once again she could see him barely resisted the urge to try and take hold of one.

“You’ve done everything you can,” he told her, not realising the truth of those words. “But you really should sleep now too, Rinna.”

She nodded, glancing back at the door to Ezra’s room once more before turning back to Lyle.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said quietly. He looked at her in confusion, and she gave an anaemic smile that she couldn’t quite make reach her eyes. “Would you mind walking me to Jorran’s office after all?”

It took him a second to process what she’d said, but once he did he nodded vigorously.

“S-sure! Yeah, of course.”

Auri followed her colleague down the hallway, falling into an exhausted step beside him. But not before quietly pulling the test tube of poison out of her back pocket and dropping it quietly into a nearby biohazard bin.

Much as she hated to admit it, PANN and Lyle were both right—she really did need all the sleep she could get tonight.

Tomorrow she was going to have to start planning her escape from Lothal.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

#mine #my writing #swjfo #star wars #star wars fic #auri madraan #star wars oc #ex-jedi padawan #jedi healer #5 part mini fic #My characters #alien oc #alien character #original alien race #young ezra bridger #finished Fallen Order for the third time #and now i need to get this idea out of my system #just for fun

[spectraspecs-writes]

Korriban - Chapter 87

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 86. Chapter 88.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

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I actually did manage to sleep the whole night - in fact, I’m the last to wake up, which is far from normal. I stretch a bit before Jolee asks me, “So, what’s the plan? Any ideas?”

“Well, first thing is to get to those tombs, figure out which one the Star Map is in,” I say, “Second is check the other rooms for Dustil. I’ve got all the dorms marked on the map I downloaded. Shouldn’t take much time to find his room.”

I start to pull on the top of my robe before Jolee stops me. “I think they gave you a more evil looking robe with the room.” He opens up the footlocker and pulls out a red lightsaber - which I am not using, it’s not my color - and a darker Jedi robe. And I have to admit, I like the darker color. So what the hell, I change robes. And with that, we head out.

We don’t get too far before we run into Yuthura, who looks eager to see me. “There you are,” she says, “my favorite prospect for the year.”

Oh? “Your favorite?”

“Absolutely,” she says, leaning on the wall, “By my estimation, you are far more likely to achieve the prestige necessary to join the Sith than any of the others. As a matter of fact, I am so certain of that that I'm willing to offer you an opportunity of the once-in-a-lifetime variety. Would you like to hear it?”

I shrug. “Why the hell not?”

“Good,” she says, “I do so adore someone who's willing to take a chance.” She beckons me closer, and I lean on the wall next to her. “As I said, you're no doubt going to be the one whom Uthar chooses to become a Sith. With my help, of course. Once that occurs, he will take you into the Valley of the Dark Lords to the tomb of Naga Sadow to administer the final test. There you and I will be alone with him. The perfect time to, shall we say, arrange for a change in the academy's leadership?”

I don’t intend to stay for graduation if I don’t have to. “What’s so special about this tomb, anyway?”

“The tomb is an ancient ruin on the surface that was visited years ago by Darth Revan and Darth Malak. They discovered a Star Map there of great importance.” I share a look with Carth and Jolee. Well, shit, that means I’ll have to actually try to win. I can’t beat Shaardan, Mekel, or Lashowe in deviance or malice. I’ll have to be pretty damn spectacular to actually get to the final test. “Reaching that map, as they did, is part of the final test. At any rate, it is not the tomb that is important. That Uthar will be alone is what is important.”

“You want me to kill Master Uthar,” I say, “What do you get out of it? What’s your part in this?”

“My 'part' in this is to help you gain enough prestige… and slow down the progress of the other hopefuls.” Well, that should be helpful. “I want you in that tomb when the time is right. We destroy Master Uthar together and I take his place… and you take your place at my side. A beautiful plan in its sheer simplicity.”

I hum like I’m considering it. Really, I just need to get into that tomb, I don’t give a damn about Sith politics. “Very well, I agree,” I say.

“I'm so glad you see it my way,” she says, “I will begin to make preparations for your final test. Your only worry now is to get there… don't disappoint me.”

“Perish the thought,” I say, and I walk away. I sigh heavily, and say softly for Carth and Jolee to hear, “She’s going to betray me.”

“Perhaps,” Jolee says, “But if it gets you to the final test…”

“Doesn’t mean I’m just going to let it happen,” I say, “No, I think there’s another way I can play this game.”

I pause in the hallway between the rooms and the main hallway. Thinking… Maybe there’s a way I could play both sides of this. I click my tongue a little. “I’d love to know what’s going on in that tricky mind of yours,” Carth says.

“Yeah, me too, I’m just making it up as I go,” I admit, walking quickly up to Master Uthar.

He is sitting and meditating. It only makes sense to join him until he chooses to acknowledge me. Which doesn’t take long, and he doesn’t even leave his meditation to do it. “Greetings, young one,” he says, “You have much to do yet. Is there something you want?”

“Yes, master,” I say, “I have something to tell you about Yuthura.”

“Oh?” he says, breaking meditation and looking at me, “What is my apprentice up to now?”

“She wants me to help her kill you at the final trial.”

“I see,” he says neutrally, “It is good that you have come to me with this information, young one. It is a bit… ironic… that Yuthura has begun her plotting. I have been aware of her growing ambitions for some time, and had in fact already decided to remove her. Normally, the one who gains the most prestige would engage in a final trial - two of the students would fight. This time it will be Yuthura who battles, though she does not know it. Perhaps it will be you who combats her? Yes… perhaps so.” I can see his wheels turning. “This is what you can do.” He pulls out a datapad and types some instructions into it before handing it to me. “Give this pad to Adrenas - he will put some poison in her bath.” Devious. “This will weaken Yuthura for that final test, making her an easy target. Rather generous of me, don't you think?” I take the datapad with a small nod. “For coming to me with this information and betraying your foolish trainer, I feel you are worthy of prestige, young one. Go now,” he says, “you have done well. I have matters to attend to.” So I stand and leave him.

Now my mind drifts elsewhere - what if he decides to betray me? What if he decides that I’m not worth the trouble of keeping around, and decides to kill me? Not that I intend to stick around, but he doesn’t know that, and it doesn’t particularly matter. Sheerly on a matter of experience, Uthar is clearly the harder opponent. I don’t want to have to fight him alone, if I have to fight them at all. The way I see it, if you’re stuck between two powers, each determined to kill the other whatever you do, then the thing to do is make sure you survive. I know, I know, that sounds a bit Sith-y. But I’m not good to anyone dead. At the end of the day, Yuthura is not my first choice to poison. Uthar is. Yuthura’s betrayal is a given. Anyone powerful enough to take out Uthar is a threat to her superiority, as far as she’s concerned. Uthar’s betrayal is probably just me being paranoid, but paranoid seems better than optimism on a Sith planet.

She’s still in the dormitory area. I steel myself, ready to lie. Looking concerned as I approach her. “Master Yuthura!” I say to her, a note of panic in my voice - actually pretty convincing which surprises me. She turns to me and sees the concern on my face. “I was on my way to the archive library when I passed by Master Uthar - he was saying to one of the other Sith that he wants to get rid of you. He plans to have you fight whoever gets to the final test!” Not completely a lie - I did hear him talking to someone about it. That someone just happens to be me.

She narrows her eyes. Not at me, though. “How very clever of him,” she says, “Normally you - and it will be you, remember - would face some other student in the tomb, preferably one of the failed ones. In the end, however, it works out better that it is only the two of us in the tomb with him. So long as we refuse to fight. Is there anything else I should know? Did you overhear anything else?”

“No, nothing else,” I lie. Well, again, technically not a lie because I didn’t actually overhear anything. This is quite a tangled web I’m weaving. (“I’ll say,” Jolee sends me.)

“Good,” she says, relieved, “I'm not about to rest on my laurels, however.” Oh? What’s your plan, then? She looks around cautiously, before reaching into her footlocker and pulling out a passcard and some other device. “Here,” she says as she hands them to me, “This passcard will allow you access to Uthar's quarters. Take this device and put it inside his cot. No one should see you do it. Then Uthar will be too weak to stand up against us.” I start to take them, but then she quickly withdraws them for a moment. “Don't even think of failing me. You and I are too far into this now to back out.”

“I won’t,” I tell her honestly, and I put both items into my pockets.

“Go now, you still need to earn prestige,” she says, “If you want my advice, I would suggest you talk to the other prospective Sith and find one that you can gain an advantage with. I believe Lashowe would be an excellent choice.” Her? Really? I mean, she has a hairpin trigger of a temper, but taken advantage of? “She is too trusting. I have little doubt you could talk her into letting you 'help' her somehow. Just make sure that it is you who gains the advantage, not her. Be ruthless, if you must. That is the only thing that will impress Uthar.”

Well, it already has impressed him, so I suppose she’s right.

#knights of the old republic #star wars #kotor #fiction #autistic artist #specs writes stuff #kotor fic #rena visz #oc #fem!revan #ls!revan #korriban #sith academy #carth onasi #jolee bindo #yuthura ban #uthar wynn #chapter 87

[sapphires-and-gold-fics]

Fictober Day 4: “I know you didn’t ask for this”

Fandom:

Game of Thrones / ASOIAF

Characters: Brienne of Tarth/Jaime Lannister

Read on AO3

It had been 11 days since Jaime had last been to see her in her tower cell. He’d promised to find a way to get her out of King’s Landing. He’d hoped to find a way to save his brother as well. The full moon had come and gone.

It had been 9 days since Lord Tywin had come to her cell and informed her that she and Jaime would wed. She had said little in response, and less still when he informed her that she would be moved from the cell.

It had been 8 days since Septa Donyse had come to fit her for a gown, and 2 days since the blue silk gown had been delivered to her new chamber.

It had been 3 hours since Cersei’s shadow had appeared in her doorway without warning, a smirk marring her beautiful face.

I understand that my son the king, at the behest of my father, has  decreed that we shall be goodsisters soon. It doesn’t look like you’re terribly happy at the prospect.

My father believed that I could have some say in my future, she’d said, but your father doesn’t see things that way.

Cersei had almost chuckled. No, he doesn’t. He never did. I confess if Qyburn hadn’t confirmed your maidenhead already, I would have few reasons to believe you were a woman, but my father’s insistence on controlling you seems to make the case quite evident. He does like to play with people’s lives.

Marriages are arranged all the time, your grace.

The queen’s smirk deepened. Except in your case, one would hardly call it a marriage. A wedding, yes, but a marriage...that requires a willingness to be bound to one another. A desire to do so. By the look on your face, you are no more desirous of that than my brother is. Or perhaps your face simply falls like that. But it matters not. Jaime has no interest in a marriage with one such as you.

I have not spoken with him, your grace. But I don’t believe he or I have a choice in the matter.

Cersei’s glance turned almost warm. You know, I could leave the door open when I leave. You could run now and avoid the entire thing. My father will be upset, so the crown won’t be pleased. But you’ve flitted between loyalties before, Lady Brienne. I’m sure you’ll find another berth soon enough.

Your grace is kind to think of my comfort, but I would not go against the king’s wishes in this.

The warmth was gone. Very well. I don’t expect your… relationship will last long in any case. You’ll leave for Casterly Rock but I wonder at your ever seeing it. Take care, Lady Brienne. I would not wish my goodsister to fall ill on the road. And one never knows what might be preying on travelers.

It had been 155 minutes since the queen had left the chamber, air pouring back into the room in her wake. Brienne had sat gasping on her bed. If only she could speak to him before the ceremony and find out what had happened.

It had been 119 minutes since the septa had returned to help her into her dress. Brienne had almost not recognized her own body in the looking glass. Nothing could hide her height, but she seemed to have more of a woman’s shape now.

It had been 88 minutes since Brienne had entered the Sept of Baelor and met Jaime at the top of the steps, afraid to look at him and see his disappointment.

It had been 78 minutes since he had cloaked her with the Lannister colors. He’d struggled with his gold hand and when he’d secured the left side, the right had begun to slip from her shoulder. It would have fallen except that Brienne had reached across her chest and grasped it just as Jaime had reached and caught it as well. She thought he had whispered his thanks to her back, but it was covered by the susurrus of the shifting fabric and Cersei’s snickers from the gallery.

It had been 73 minutes since the septon had bound their arms with ribbon and Jaime had gently squeezed her hand. She’d looked over to find his face solemn.

It had been 72 minutes since they said the words, and she could barely look at him.

It had been 70 minutes since he had leaned forward and pressed his lips dryly to the corner of her mouth, an action so reluctant and impersonal that Brienne felt assured of Cersei’s assessment of her brother.

It had been 55 minutes since they had arrived at the feast - a small affair even by Tarth standards, miniscule by royal and Lannister standards.

It had been 35 minutes since King Tommen had made the only toast, wishing his uncle and the new Lady Lannister prosperity before taking himself to bed; 35 minutes since Jaime had leaned over and taken her hand, raising it in salute to the boy as the small crowd cheered; 34 and a half minutes since he had pulled her toward him gently so that he could whisper in her ear, his face as grim as ever.

My father will not suffer a bedding ceremony. With Tommen leaving, we  may taken our leave whenever you wish.

Brienne had ducked her head, feeling Cersei’s eyes boring into her across  the room. If we are not needed here, then I am eager to depart, my lord.

He’d given her a curious look, then glanced at his father who raised an e yebrow and nodded just once. Jaime had jerked his face to look back at  Brienne, her hand still in his. Come, my lady, he’d said at volume. Then f or her ears only, Let us rid ourselves of these grotesques.

It had been 32 minutes since he had led her away from the hall. They’d walked quickly, anxious to be away from the melee, and both having avoided the lure of the wine. Their quarters had been readied near the Tower of the Hand - a way, perhaps, for Tywin to keep them within his grasp until they departed for the west.

It had been 27 minutes since Jaime had opened the door and motioned for Brienne to enter. A low fire was burning and the sky was purple, the sun’s rays fading quickly. Jaime had bolted the door behind them and then sagged against it with a heavy sigh.

Wench.

She’d hesitated.

Brienne. He’d reached for her arm and turned her to face him. The dour  expression he’d worn all afternoon while not quite looking at her had  vanished. In its place, one of exhaustion and relief. Blue is a good color  on you, my lady. It goes well with your eyes. Are you alright? I’m s orry I couldn’t come to see you these last few days. I’m even sorrier that  you had to get the news of your future from my father. Tell me that  you’re well, wench.

She’d stared at him, transfixed by his altered expression. No my lord, I--

--Jaime. These last few days cannot have changed us so much that  you’ve forgotten.

She’d licked her lips before responding, and he’d watched the motion  before flicking his glance back up to her eyes, steady. Where have you  been? The words had come out quieter and with more desperation than s he’d intended and she could see the effect on him, the worry building, a  face that he’d shown her and no one else.

My father. Once the terms were set he said I wasn’t to have contact with  you until the ceremony. I thought of defying him. I thought of coming to  you every day and telling you everything. But I was afraid that he would  hurt you or Tyrion. He pushed off the door and stepped toward her. As  long as I obeyed, you and my brother were protected. Without that  protection, there was no telling what Cersei might do.

Brienne had nodded. She came to see me this morning.

To welcome you to the family?

To warn me, I think. She offered me an escape, actually. But I doubt she  had my interests in mind.

No doubt. He’d sighed and taken another step. I’m sorry that happened. I  swear it shan’t happen again. We’ll be leaving King’s Landing soon, and  then she won’t be able to touch us.

Jaime, she suggested that I watch my back on the road, too.

His face had gone stormy. I swear to watch it for you, wench. She has no power where we’re going.

Brienne had nodded and then looked at him resolutely, summoning all her courage, speaking quickly. Jaime, I know you didn’t ask for this. Neither of us did. And I know that I’m not… not her. But I hope that there is some comfort, that is, I am comforted and hope you are as well, that if this is our fate, that at least we are friends. At least we may lean on one another--

—What makes you think I didn’t ask for this? He’d taken a final step toward her and clasped her arm.

Jaime, you were Lord Commander--

--Aye and what a Commander I was. Jaime had crowded her and forced her to step back as he went on. I soiled that white cloak every chance I got. Brienne, they were going to kill my brother, and as Lord Commander I was expected to stand idly by and let that happen. I couldn’t do it. But there was a problem.

Brienne had felt the backs of her thighs hit the bed just as Jaime stopped moving.

You.

Me?

I couldn’t leave you here. I couldn’t leave you behind. I could have told my father that I wanted you for a guard at Casterly and keep you a maiden, but I knew better. He’d been waiting, you see, for me to change my mind about being his heir. But he couldn’t keep other houses waiting for me, so there were no other highborn ladies waiting in the wings; but you were here. If I’d asked to bring you with me in any capacity other than my lady wife, he would have inevitably turned it into a wedding anyway.

She’d shuddered as he ran his hand up and down her arm, her nerves firing as she tried to keep her breath under control.

So I beat him to it. I told him that I was in love with you, and that I wished to marry, but that i would only do it if he gave me Tyrion.

She’d almost whimpered when he reached up and cupped her face.

So yes, I did in fact ask for this. And I have no regrets about doing so. And I would have told you as much before we said the words if I’d been able to see you. I would have told you everything… I would have given you the option at least - I’m sorry that it couldn’t be that way. I’m sorry that you’ve had no say in being married to a cripple, formerly of the Kingsguard. But I’m not sorry for getting you away from here. It felt selfish but I need you to know that I was thinking of your safety. As it is, I still need to make Cersei believe that this was my father’s doing, otherwise the rest of the plan won’t work.

What plan?

Jaime had actually smiled and leaned closer to her. Wench you didn’t think I would just drag you to the rock and put a babe in your belly and forget all about our oathes like my father would want, did you?

Stunned, she had said nothing.

We’re going to find Sansa and bring her north. We’ll try to find Arya too. He’d been so close that his breath had begun stirring her hair. And when we’re done you’ll decide your future, marriage vows or no.

It had been 51 seconds since their lips had crashed together, his hand gripping the nape of her neck, her hands gripping his tunic; 34 seconds since his tongue had slipped into her mouth; 32 seconds since she had moaned into his.

It had been 3 seconds since she had pulled him down onto the bed with her and he had mentally sworn to keep every vow to her.

In 248 seconds, she’ll remove his gold hand and press his stump to her heart.

In 14 minutes, the blue silk will be balled up on the floor.

In 23 minutes, she’ll come apart with his name on her lips, and her honey on his.

In 29 minutes, she’ll come apart again when he spills inside her, crying her name.

In 17 hours, they’ll sit for their final meal in the Keep. Cersei will demand Jaime’s attention. Jaime will give it.

In 19 and a half hours, he’ll have Brienne pressed against the inside of their chamber door.

In 32 hours, Tyrion will join them as they ride west from the capital.

In 32 and a half hours, Tyrion and Brienne will be fast friends and take to teasing Jaime together.

In 6 days, Tyrion will continue west while Brienne and Jaime turn north.

In 19 days, they’ll be pressed together sheltering from the rain, his mouth on her scars when they finally whisper their love for one another.

In 95 days, they’ll rescue Sansa from Baelish.

In 8 months, Sansa will be safely ensconced with the Night’s Watch.

In 12 months and 1 day, Arya will join her.

In 13 months and 28 days, Jaime will knight Brienne at Winterfell.

In 13 months and 29 days, Jaime and Brienne will fight at Winterfell in the Long Night, and survive. Brienne has decided her future.

In 16 months and 12 days, they will rejoin Tyrion at Casterly Rock.

In 18 months and 3 days, Jaime will tear up a letter from his sister begging for help in the capital.

And in 22 months and 15 days, Jaime will curl up on the bed next to a propped up Brienne and hold his wife and newborn daughter to him while Tyrion watches them fondly from a chair by the hearth.

#apparently i can't write drabbles #fictober #fictober 2019 #jaime x brienne #brienne x jaime #braime #got au #braime au #asoiaf au #not really asoiaf and not really got