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#still giddy about those prison streams!
pulchramsolis · 1 year
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Abrogail's prison does not look like one.
She was told, when Daeron brought her home to make her his wife, that they were the Queen's rooms. Little was said about who Daeron's mother was, but he'd spoiled her, doted on her, and told Abrogail she could decorate it however she wanted. The bed is large and sturdy, the sheets silken and soft with as many pillows as she could want. When he comes to her, Daeron's laughter - dark and low and amused - rings out when he finds her snuggled in the nest of them.
She adored the streaming light through the windows, the crackling fire, her freedom prancing around Maegor's Holdfast, even if it often felt lonely for lack of companionship besides her maids and Daeron.
Until the night it changed. Until the night those people came into her room, speaking as if they knew her. The frightened young man with purple eyes and a smile that reminded her of a dream she could not longer properly remember.
The metal along her ankle clinks as her foot shifts.
"What happened to him? The one with purple eyes," she asks. Daeron was an imposing man, who frightened those around him but he'd rarely frightened her. She didn't care about his scars, or the angry set of his jaw. To her, he was so handsome, so beautiful, and when he smiled at her it made her giddy and pepper his face with kisses.
His anger had stolen away all that she loved in his face, and for the first time she could see what other men feared.
When those men came to try take her away, to kidnap her from her home, it had been a massacre. Her doors had burst open, Daeron himself slaughtering men left and right. She'd hidden beneath the bed, struck silent in the terror and face of violence. The blood had pooled on the flagstones and soaked into her soft rugs, running beneath the bed. When Daeron had dragged her out she'd been soaked in it.
He'd been frightened until he realized she'd been hiding, not hurt.
It doesn't matter how delicate the chain around her ankle is. Her husband had at least been gentle in spite of his fury to not weigh her down with a chain from the dungeons. At least she could move with this one, even if it was not very far. At least it is not a collar around her neck, although she knew he was still considering it.
Instead there are simply bruises.
Although not as heavy, it still weighed her down. The delicate skin of her ankle beneath the iron cuff was rubbed red and raw, bits of dried blood along her ivory skin.
"You belong to me," @thedarring said from where he stood at the foot of her bed. He was limned by the light of the fireplace, truly underscoring his title as the Dragon King. He stood there, towering over her where she sat curled in the middle of her bed.
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mintmc · 3 years
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I feel like part of what made the other day’s lore streams so fantastic was the fact that they made it easy to feel for all of the characters involved. Don’t get me wrong, each and every one of them has had their moment as the villain, and debatably they could all still be considered villains. But seeing the way they all interacted just felt so much more humanising. It’s like they all kept each other in check.
We saw Quackity’s dark side immediately followed by his crippling fear of the consequences. We saw Sam’s harshness but also his mercy, in letting Dream remain in the prison in secrecy. We saw Techno push and prod Quackity only to get near instantly thrown onto the back foot. And even Dream felt more sympathetic in light of his easy camaraderie with Techno, only for us to be reminded by Sam of the very reason why he was in the prison in the first place. It felt nicely balanced. With different perspectives so commonly villainising one character and raising up another, it was super refreshing to see the streams compliment each other so interestingly!
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shadyteacup · 3 years
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OMG pm Dazai dating y/n and leaves without saying anything,,,, reunion when chuuya is interrogating him in their “dungeon” area, y/n sees him and flat out ignores him until her and chuuya leave, when she full on KISSES chuuya AND WALKS AWAY mmmm angst c:
Tasty angst.. Here I come! This was an amazing idea! I loved writing it♡
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Dazai Osamu x fem! Reader x Chuuya Nakahara
Tw: slight nsfw(kissing), angst, strong language.
"Hey Chuuya, I got here as soon as you called. So, what's the matter?"
You say, walking up to the redhead, a smile on your face.
Noticing the grim look on your friend's face, your smile drops, a concerned look replacing it.
"Chuuya? What's wrong? And why hasn't Osamu arrived?"
Chuuya grit his teeth at your words, and tightened his fists.
"That bastard left."
"What?"
"He left the mafia, Y/N. He abandoned us."
You couldn't believe your ears. No way. You loved him. He loved you too, didn't he? Didn't he?! How.. Why.. When?
"Is this some sick joke, Chuuya? Because I don't appreciate it. It's a very stupid prank. You know how cranky I get when you wake me up in the middle of my sleep. I don't appreciate-"
Chuuya grabbed your shoulders, shaking you. He thought that this was the only way to help you understand. To tell you, that this wasn't some prank. It was true. Dazai had left the the mafia. But what's worse, is that he left the two of you, without as much as a mention of his plan.
"He left, Y/N! He left us! It's not a joke! He.. He's gone.."
Chuuya's grip on you slowly loosened as he teared up. His voice cracked.
You teared up, too. Your mouth was agape, wanting to say so much, express so much, but not knowing how.
"But.. he didn't even say goodbye.."
Chuuya shook his head, gritting his teeth.
"He didn't bother to say goodbye."
....
"Chuuya, you down here?"
That voice.. It belonged to Dazai's lover. He could recognize that voice anywhere. The honey like tone, and the soothing pitch; it had to be Y/N.
Dazai's heart was beating at 1000 kilometers per hour, and he feared that if you came close enough, it would leap out of his chest and tango on the floor.
Every step you took, the sharp sound of your heel against the floor reverberated through the dark dungeons.
The last time he had seen you was the night before he left the mafia. He hadn't told you about his departure, and had simply vanished the next day. He didn't try contacting you, and neither did you try to find out about him. He assumed that you were fine with his decision. But he knew that this assumption was probably wrong. You hated being lied to. You were one of those people that took time to open up to someone, but once they did, they would trust them fully. And he had gone ahead and broken that trust. He had backstabbed you. You were probably livid. Maybe you're coming down here to give him a piece of your mind. Dazai shuddered at the thought of being on the receiving end of your anger. Anybody who witnessed your angry side never lived to tell the tale.
Finally, your outline could be seen above the stairs. You were standing there casually, your hands in the pockets of the Mafia style coat draped over your lithe form. Your coat looked expensive. It most probably was. You were an executive, afterall. You had been since you were 15. You were probably filthy rich by now. Your hair looked as silky as he remembered it to be. A few strands gracefully framed your elegant and chiseled face. You had definitely grown up over the years. The maturity in your eyes, the sharpened features of your face and the soft curves of your body proved it. Dazai couldn't help but stare at his true love, the woman he had fallen for a few years ago, and the one who he was head over heels for now. He simply froze in his place, eyes widenening and mouth slightly agape as he took in your form.
You began strutting down the stairs, observing the prisoner. For a split second, Dazai could spot surprise flash through your eyes.
"Y/N... I didn't want to get you down here.."
Chuuya spoke, a scared look on his face. He was terrified of what you would do if you saw Dazai down here. Part of him knew you hated him, and might lash out on him. That was fine. But what scared him was the other possibility. The other part of him thought that you might forgive him. Considering your kind nature, you might fall prey to Dazai's sweet, manipulative words and forgive him. He would be devastated if you did that. The brunette has caused a lot of pain to you, and Chuuya would absolutely hate it if you decided to be compassionate and forget all that pain. All those tears were shed over the bastard. He couldn't bear to see you ignore all that.
"Yeah, you went out of the way to avoid telling me. I got to know from Tachihara."
You rolled your eyes, smiling at the fiery haired man.
Chuuya fisted his hands, anger building up in his stomach.
"Don't lash out on him! I had to threaten the poor boy to get the info out of him."
You said, holding your hands up to placate him.
You came to stand right next to him.
"I wanted to know if dinner is still on."
Dazai watched the two of you in silence. He wanted to say so much to you, but he couldn't if stupid short rack stayed here.
Well, he didn't have an option. He had to talk to you. And now was the only time he'd get.
"Y/N! It's been so long, hasn't it?"
He grinned at you, waiting for you to grin back or scowl at him.
You looked at him without bothering to face him. You raised an eyebrow, and focused your attention back to Chuuya.
Dazai was heartbroken at that. You never used to ignore him. You used to always be so enthusiastic and encouraging. This is the first time you've ignored him.
"Y/N. I'm so sorry. I know I should have said something, but I was stupid back then. I didn't know how to say, and what to say... I... I love you.. please, will you hear me out?"
His voice cracked. He meant every word he had just uttered. He loved you. Back then, when he left the mafia, he was only 19. Leaving the mafia was the best decision he had ever made in his life. But the way he executed it was wrong. It was stupid. He had lost you.
Chuuya gulped. This is exactly what he had feared.
You finally faced Dazai, hands still in your pockets. Your face held a look of mild intrigue, almost as if you were enjoying this.
You tilted your head to side, eyeing his worn out state.
Without a word, you faced Chuuya.
"I'm starving. Meet me at our usual place."
Chuuya was shocked at your lack of response. He nodded nonetheless.
"Alright. Get started without me. I might take a while."
You placed a hand on his shoulder, and were about to turn to leave.
"Y/N! Please, just hear me out!"
Dazai had never begged anyone other than Odasaku in his life. He had only ever pleaded Oda to not go destroy Mimic. Nobody other than Odasaku had seen Osamu Dazai ever plead to anyone about anything. The demon prodigy of the Mafia always found a way to get what he wanted.
Chuuya was left gaping at the scene.
You grabbed Chuuya's neck, and placed your palm on his cheek. Drawing him in, you kissed him. Right in front of Dazai. You deepened the kiss as Chuuya pulled you in further, leaving no room between the two of you. Tongues danced together, setting an erratic beat, as the two of you got lost in the kiss. The air supply was getting low, and Chuuya needed to come back for air, but you pulled him before he could do so. The lack of oxygen made his eyes flutter close, and he felt light headed. You devoured his mouth, tasting him. Finally pulling back, you bit his bottom lip, and licked it.
Chuuya felt weak in the knees. This wasn't the first time you had kissed him. Hell, you both had done a lot more than just kiss. But it always left him flabbergasted and breathless.
You wasted no time as you turned and walked away, leaving the dungeons after saying a ,"Hope to see you soon!", to Chuuya.
As you disappeared above the stairs, Dazai felt his heart shatter. He felt a pang in his chest, and tears surfaced in his eyes. He exhausted all his energy and self control in keeping his tears in and maintaining a nonchalant posture.
Chuuya was elated. He couldn't express how happy he was even in a thousand words. The love you both shared was strong, and what happened just now had proven it to him. In a twisted way, he was glad that Dazai had left, as it led him to form a beautiful relationship with you.
While Chuuya glowed from giddiness, Dazai cracked on the inside, and felt hollow. He thought that this was what he deserved. Afterall, he was the one who had caused immense pain to you. It's only fair for you to return the favor.
His hair hid half of his face, but Chuuya could easily spot the tears streaming down his cheeks. Chuuya felt bad for him, for Dazai was once his friend. But Dazai had this coming. He had hurt you, and Chuuya is planning to hurt him in return for that.
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crownedrebel · 3 years
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New Ever After High fanfic! check it out if y’all want
Title: Truth Behind the Crown
Chapter 1 - Reunited
Apple White is known as the princess with the marvelous fairytale of all Ever After. As the next Snow White, she was raised like how her Mother expected her to be when the time comes for her to take over the throne as Queen of the land. Kind, courageous, passionate, smart, Perfect.
As she grew older, Apple was taught that following her parents' footsteps will lead her to the right path, to her Happily ever after. marrying her pre-destined prince who will wake her up in her sleep when the Evil Queen poisoned her, run the kingdom together, build a family, and their family tradition shall continue. everything and anything her mother taught her were the things she carried on her shoulders, reassuring her that only in her fairytale, safety is promised. her safety will be guaranteed. as a girl who was almost killed at a younger age, Apple was terrified. by then she realized that going against the story would be terrible and dangerous.
The future Snow White carries a lot of expectations, but is she that determined to be the next Queen? the next ruler of all land? one bite from the poisoned apple and her fairytale will be perfect. perfect in everyone's eyes, perfect in her mother's eyes.
She knows in herself that she needs to be the fairest one of all, as her mother always says. picture-perfect princess adored by many, envied by the most on the female population, loved by the most male population. But is she really happy? is this the life she wanted? what would happen if her deep secret were revealed?
Will her friends stay? will her family disown her? is she still going to be the next Snow White? or a big disappointment and disgrace in all history of Ever After?
xxxxxxx
Moonlight shines through the halls of Ever After High, students are already suited in their dorm rooms after a long day of school. everything seems back to normal after the big battle against the Evil Queen. A week has passed after the dragon games incident where the whole school battled the Evil Queen who escaped from the mirror prison. the reimprisonment was successful with the help of no other than the daughters of the most rivaled individuals on the Snow White fairytale, Raven Queen and Apple White. peace has befallen on the land of Ever After once again.
inside the biggest dorm room among the whole school resides Raven and Apple who happens to be awake at the late hour of the night. the dark-haired princess is on her mirrorpad, tapping lightly on the screen to whatever activity she's doing because the sleep doesn't seem to visit her system yet. on the other side of the room, the blonde princess laying on her bed, eyes on the ceiling as she let out a sigh. it comes out as a frustrated sigh. she rolled on her side where she faces her roommate's side of the room.
Apple and Raven's friendship was tainted during the week of dragon games. the blonde made terrible mistakes which caused chaos in all Ever After. she was the one who brought everyone in danger- the future Snow White no less. the blonde made a sincere public apology to the entire school, admitting her mistakes caused by her selfish desires. selfish enough to drove her dear friend Raven away by pushing her to follow their fairytale religiously which caused a big scar on their friendship. Apple knew from Legacy Day that Raven will be her biggest challenge. the said dark-haired girl who is supposed to be the next Evil Queen rebels against her destiny. their destiny. Apple tried to persuade her into evil, for the sake of her own happily ever after. if she's going to think this through, she was indeed selfish. she proved that she'll do whatever it takes even against her dear friend's will just to fulfill her destiny. and that was horrible. she was horrible. a rotten apple.
it's been a week but the guilt won't just leave Apple's system. her bond with her roommate changed after a week for obvious reasons. she did apologize to her for the way she acted before and how selfish she was, Raven accepted the apology, but it seems like the witch grew more distant away from her. though she should be glad since this is what she's been aiming for. she wanted Raven to hate her, curse her, fight her, poison her. but now? it doesn't feel right. the thought of Raven hating her and avoiding any contact with her pains her like a hundred knives stabbed in her chest. it feels heavy and foreign. she hates it and it makes her cry in her sleep every night.
She let out another shaky sigh, gripping on her pillow lightly, still facing Raven's side of the room. the dark-haired girl's spot is dark, only the light from the girl's mirrorpad is the only light that flickers. she can't read Raven's face right now, her blurry vision isn't helping either.
she wanted to stand up and walk towards her roommate's spot, talk to her, hug her, like the way they used to, but she's afraid Raven would distant herself more.
"It's my fault anyway", she mumbled. closing her lids to prevent her tears to fall. she wanted to talk to Raven so bad that it hurts her chest even more. even though she sees Raven every day, she misses her. she misses her laugh, her silly jokes, her smile, everything. she wished she could turn back time to right her wrongs but no. deep inside her, she knows that everything happens for a reason. and whatever the reason is, it sucks big time. if the outcome of it is her and Raven's relationship will go on like this forever, she's already suffering.
Apple took a deep breath, shaking her head lightly as she makes up her mind, "I don't want this to go on forever". she knew what she needed to do- talk to Raven. She doesn't have any idea right now if Raven will talk to her or completely ignore her, but nothing will happen if she's not going to try.
"Alright, it's now or never", she muttered under her breath. she stood up from her bed, slowly she approached Raven's side of the room, gulping as she reached near the dark-haired girl's bed. the witch seems to notice her presence, slightly startled Raven slowly put her mirrorpad away from her as she eyed the blonde. Apple cleared her throat, putting a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
"Oh, Uhm, Hey Apple" Raven started awkwardly with a light chuckle.
"Hey" the blonde princess responds, her words seem to melt away, her chest is hammering violently. 'I'm an idiot' she mentally facepalmed herself.
"Uhh, What's up? do you need anything?" the dark-haired princess asked in a light tone. she noticed that Apple is fidgeting, her lips are parting but no words are coming out. she wonders why Apple is approaching her right now in the middle of the night because she knows that it's unlikely for the blonde to stay up late.
"Can I sit with you? and maybe talk to you for a while?" finally Apple managed to say as she eyed the raven-haired girl for any signs of disapproval, but Raven smiled and nodded her head. Apple's insides feel oddly giddy for a moment but it quickly changed to anxiousness. she settled herself on Raven's side of the bed, her posture is still stiff as she fidgets her fingers.
"What's wrong? what do you want to talk about?" Raven started slowly, not wanting to rush the blonde.
The raven-haired princess is slightly concerned because of the way Apple is acting right now. 'is she sick? did something happened again?' she thought silently until the blonde took a deep breath and their eyes met. Raven didn't know how much she misses those pair of baby blue orbs and somehow, the twinkle in the blonde's eyes is dull.
"Raven? I...I know that you have already forgiven me for what I've done" Apple paused, there's a building lump in her throat as she gulped and speak again.
"But I know that something has changed between us. I know how terrible I was. For how I treated you ever since you refused to sign the Storybook of Legends, I pushed you to do something evil for the sake of my own happily ever after. I never listened to you. I was a horrible friend"
Her voice broke, her tears are forming on the corners of her eyes. Raven remained silent, she can't read the expression she's wearing right now. 'Hah, I knew it. she's still mad' she thought.
"Again, I'm so sorry, and-," Apple shook her head, squeezing her lids shut, avoiding her tears to fall. "-I really don't like how we are right now. everything has changed. I know I deserved it, But Raven-"
Apple can't hold it back any longer as she put both hands in her face. her voice is shaking as she spoke, tears are streaming down her pale cheeks. this hurts more than she can ever imagine. she tried to calm herself down as she wiped her tears away. she looked at Raven, locking her gaze in those deep lavender eyes that she adored the most.
"I miss you"
"I see you every day, we had some little talks, but you feel so far away. this newfound distance between us is killing me, Raven. I miss everything about us. I want this wedge between us to disappear. I miss you so much and it hurts"
Apple wiped her tears again, her voice is becoming hoarse as she swallowed the thick lump on her throat. she didn't know what to say anymore but her heart is still hammering violently in her chest. she looks pathetic, not so princess-y with all this ugly crying, but she doesn't care. she wants Raven back. she is also aware that Raven might not trust her again for what she did and that hurts like a brick, but she is more willing to win her dear friend back.
"I just can't hold this any longer, it feels heavy and it sucks. I know that you won't forgive me wholely, and I know you won't trust me anymore, but I want you to know that I'll do anything to win you back, Raven. You're-special to me. you're my friend and I...I can't lose you" Apple feels so small at this point, but she means everything she said.
the blonde princess was about to say something again when she feels something shifted in the bed, before she can even speak, she was already enveloped in a tight hug.
Raven is hugging her. and it seems like the raven-haired girl didn't want to let her go for any moment now.
"R-Raven?"
Raven has scooted closer to wrap Apple in a tight hug, hot tears are swelling on the corners of her eyes as she let out a sigh. she may be ignoring the blonde most of the time but she can't deny forever that she misses her too. seeing her roommate like this broke her heart, she had never seen Apple this vulnerable and small before.
"Apple, I'm sorry"
"Why are you apologizing? Raven, you did nothing wrong" Apple loosens herself from the hug to look straight at Raven's eyes, the gap between them is just inches away. she raised her right hand and placed it lightly on the witch's pale cheek. Raven stared back, blinking her tears away. she took a deep breath as she touched the blonde's hand.
"I'm sorry if I set this distance between us. I was hurt, Apple. I needed time to heal. But you know what? I can't just drive you away from me forever because...you're my friend. I know we had a rough relationship before, but that's all in the past now. Yes, I already forgave you, but I thought I still need a little time for me to refresh that's why I avoided you… most of the time"
Apple feels like crying again. her lips are quivering as she opens her mouth to say something, but no words coming out. she just wanted to cry right now. She can't believe that Raven is apologizing to her for the fact that she did nothing wrong. 'Raven is too good to be like her mother'. she thought silently.
She once stated before when they were trapped in Wonderland for the first time, where Raven fully inherited her mother's dark powers, she saw how powerful Raven can be if she'll follow her mother's evil path. and there she realized that the young witch's heart is too good to be evil.
"You don't deserve to be treated like this, Apple. I know you made mistakes, even though you were so selfish before, I was still hoping that one day you'll change and you'll finally understand me. and I saw that you already did. I'm happy about that"
the witch didn't break their eye contact, her lips curled into a small smile as she put a loose strand of blonde hair behind Apple's ear.
"I miss you too, Apple"
Raven pulled the blonde princess again for another hug, stroking the soft blonde tresses as she inhaled Apple's sweet cinnamon scent. Apple starts to sob in their hug, the witch rubbed her back soothingly, cooing sweet words to the sobbing blonde.
"Thank you, Raven. this means so much to me" Apple said between her sobs as she buried her face to the dark-haired girl's chest. Raven placed her chin on top of the blonde's head, smiling. they both missed each other's company. the warmth of each other's body, the affection they shared in their friendship. somehow Raven wondered before if there will be a day where she can wrap her arms around her favorite blonde again, and here they are now, finally in each other's arms.
"Do you still want me to be your friend, Raven?"
"Of course, silly. we will always be friends forever after"
the future Snow White faced the young witch again, now beaming a wide smile, happy tears are still present on her pale cheeks. She wants to stay like this forever, enveloped in her favorite witch's warm hugs and never let go.
"Thank you, Raven. I promised to change for the better and I won't let you down again"
xxxxx
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soft prompt ideas: comforting each other, cuddling, waking up together/going to sleep, going on a date, idk just being in each other’s company? i’m terrible at being specific but i hope these help!
hi bby<3 thank you so much to u (and everyone else!!!) for sending in prompts, they brought me so much joy and now i have SO many little soft things in the works:’)
yesterday ended up turning into a long day and i didn’t get to finish most of the things i started, but i wrote this while i was freshly showered and in bed and wanted to quickly whip up some bedtime softness to end the day right!! so here is the softest, quickest pre-11x07 bedtime one-shot and ode to the gallagher house, i hope u enjoy<3
--
Ian turned the creaky handle to shut off the shower, stilling the scalding water that had been beating a steady stream onto his body, soothing his aching muscles and weary bones. Ian was tired—after he and Mickey had gotten back from their various security stops around the outskirts of the city, he’d promised to help Lip track down and deliver parts to the people who’d bought the odds and ends of the stolen bikes, and then he’d somehow ended up in Lip and Tami’s living room that was half-packed into boxes for hours, silently sipping a beer and listening to them tag-team their attempts at persuading Ian to convince Debbie into wanting to sell the house— an effort that was a lost cause, and they all knew it.
It was kind of funny— they’d all gotten so close to losing the house so many times before, from being pulled out by DCFS officers to being kicked to the curb by fucking Patrick, to feeling desperate ripples of fear as they watched the house be put up for auction for a bunch of Northsiders and boujee fucking families who picked through the bare skeleton of the rooms as they pleased— so it was funny that after all of that, after their front door being plastered with more bright orange eviction notices than they could count, that the eventual thing driving them out of the house in the end would be a Gallagher himself, just because Lip wanted some extra cash. Ian got it— they were older now, and Lip had a kid to worry about— but he couldn’t help but feel a soft pang in his gut, something muted and dull but still there, every time Lip nonchalantly mentioned “fixing the house up” and “making gentrification our friend” and “getting on with our lives”—even though he and Mickey had readily agreed, at the family meeting that Mickey now had a right to be a part of, that it made the most sense to sell the house and for the two of them to find a place of their own.
And honestly, that prospect was a little terrifying; it sounded silly, but this crumbling house, with its paint stripping away and its roof nearly caving in, had pretty much been the only constant in Ian’s life for as long as he could remember. He had memories, ones that were soft around the edges, of him and Lip and Fiona sleeping curled in the backseats of cars and, on a few of the worst nights, on playgrounds or stoops or streetcorners when Frank and Monica were too far gone— and then inevitably one day, one sunny afternoon, they would come home to this sturdy gray house, and even then Ian understood that this was a place he could always return to. He didn’t really know what a world without the Gallagher house looked like; he always found his feet leading him back to these four walls, even those months when he was living with Mickey and he’d walk the silent moonlit city blocks back home to splash in the pool with everyone on those muggy, late summer nights. Thinking about the comforting sag of the Gallagher house was one of the few things that kept Ian going in the colorless cinderblock walls of his prison cell; the concave mattress of his single bed at home wasn’t much better than the inch-think foam pad he scrunched onto each night in his cell, but it was still familiar, it was still home, it had still held him through all of these years.
Lip wanting to sell the house was just another bitter reminder, along with the changing storefronts of the Southside neighborhood stores, the people walking by with baby strollers and shopping bags of organic groceries, the notches on the closet door that showed how much Franny had already grown, and the tinny sound of Fiona’s voice wafting through a Facetime call, a voice too small and too quiet to fill the absence she’d left behind—that things were always changing, that life wasn’t going to stop for any of them.
Ian clambered out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, scrubbing his face with his hands to try to clear his head. The hallway outside the bathroom was still, the only sound the soft hissing of the radiator—when the fuck did this house get so quiet? There was no boisterous laughter wafting up from downstairs, no clanging in the kitchen, no WWE blasting from the TV at full volume; Lip and Tami had moved out, Liam was grown up and preferred steady conversation to the classic Gallagher screeching, and Carl was either off at the station for the night or doing god-knows-what in the basement— when did silence start to sink into these walls, without anyone really noticing? Even Frank was getting quieter, somehow, giving more blank stares than quick replies when they talked back and forth in the kitchen.
Ian stepped out of the bathroom and crept down the hallway, walking carefully in case Franny was sleeping; there was a comfort in the melody of the creaking floorboards, reminding him of all the nights when he’d lay awake staring at the ceiling, sometimes gripped by the swirling black thoughts he thought he’d never be able to shake off, and he would hear Fiona tiptoeing around in the hallway, checking in on everyone while she tried not to wake them. Ian gripped the handle of the flimsy accordion bedroom door and slid it open as quietly as he could muster, ready to crawl into bed and hopefully snap out of all this wallowing.
And… oh.
The lamp on the bedside table was still on, shining a soft glow into the cramped room— but Mickey was curled up and fast asleep on Ian’s side of the bed, his mouth half-open and his head tucked to his chin, his hair slightly mussed and ruffled by on the pillow he was gripping onto. Ian smirked—he knew it was getting late, and Mickey might be asleep when he got home—but there was something so soft and innocent about the way Mickey was laying, like he was breathing in the scent of Ian’s pillow, that made him stop for a moment before mindlessly crawling into bed next to him. Ian let himself linger in the doorway for a moment, just listening to the steady waves of Mickey’s breathing, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks and the innocence in his sleeping face that was so bare and open that it almost hurt to look at.
Instantly, Ian felt something bloom in his chest from the pit of uncertainty that had been planted there. The Gallagher house had always been his home—but he realized in a sweeping moment that his best days here, ones where he felt solid and settled and himself rather than someone he was pretending to be, were the days when Mickey was nearby, the days when Mickey was just down the road.
Mickey made up the only other home he’d had, the only other place he’d felt this safe; they’d built a cocoon around themselves in the equally-as-shitty Milkovich house, smoking and laughing and whispering into each other’s skin in the darkness. Even as Ian’s grip on reality felt like it was slipping through his fingers, Mickey’s warm body next to his kept him rooted, in the same ways Mickey’s thrumming presence beside him kept him safe in all the blaring uncertainty of federal prison and imposing cell walls and the press of too many strange bodies in orange jumpsuits. Ian had always felt safe in the Gallagher house—but so much of that, since he was a scrawny fifteen year old, was because of the nights he spent awake in bed thinking up pipe dreams of a future with the loudmouthed kid he worked with at the convenience store, or when he could crawl into bed after a late night EMT shift and feel the solid, grounding weight in his chest as he remembered his road trip with Mickey to the border, and thought about Mickey having some kind of a better life in Mexico. So much of that feeling of home, especially through all of the epic highs and colossal lows, was just knowing that someone out there, by some miracle, loved Ian as deeply as Mickey Milkovich could— knowing he had a doorstep to run to when his own house was infiltrated by Monica and some stranger threatening to take Liam, or a bed to crash in for months when everything else in his life felt like shifting, unstable ground. So much of home was right here, and it always had been.
Ian quietly slid shut the squeaky folds of the door, discarding his towel and throwing a threadbare t-shirt over his head—and then he gingerly stretched out onto the opposite side of the bed beside a sleep-soft Mickey, his body radiating heat and the ends of his hair still damp from his own shower, smelling of the fresh scent of cheap shampoo and very slightly of toothpaste, mingling with the earthy smell of cigarette smoke and the other scent that Ian could only just describe as Mickey. Ian let himself lay there for a moment, listening to Mickey breathing— just breathing.
He reached over Mickey’s torso and shut off the bedside lamp, enveloping the room in a heavy cloak of darkness—but this time the silence didn’t seem so bad with Mickey’s steady breaths punctuating the quiet. He slid a hand over Mickey’s waist, resting his chin on the crook of Mickey’s shoulder and breathing in deep—he could feel Mickey’s heartbeat vibrating into his own chest, feeling the rise and fall of his ribcage as he held him close. Ian felt all the latent tension, the lungful of air he didn’t even know he had been holding, drain out of him—and it started to make him feel weirdly light and giddy to imagine sometime in the near future when he and Mickey would actually have a place of their own, a place where they could ride out the silence together just like this— a place with clutter and creaking floorboards and slanted moonlight of their own.
If the Gallaghers were “getting on with their lives,” like Lip had said—then this right here was the only thing that Ian was moving towards, just like he always had been.
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mandoinevarro · 4 years
Text
Red Steam
Words: 2.5k
Rating: E
Warnings: Masturbation, mentions of violence
Part II here because i’m not that mean 
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 The Twi’lek healing baths aren’t exactly a brothel.
Although “healing baths” is definitely a euphemism used to deviate the attention from some of the obscure services offered inside the tall building in the outskirts of Nevarro, its name very literally delivers on its premise. There are actual healing baths inside, along with other relaxation chambers, and the most erotic service you can get from an employee is probably just an oiled massage, but you’re not stupid enough to think that the droopy-eyed visitors you saw leaving through the front door had those drowsy smiles permanently glued on their faces from a particularly satisfying massage.
Still, it’s not a brothel. At least not the section you’re in.
The steaming chamber is a manmade cave completely crafted from some smooth black mineral that you’ve never seen before. Unlike other rocks, its surface exudes the opposite temperature of its surroundings, so the one you’re sitting on right now is frosty against the backs of your legs. Apart from a long bench made with the same material that surrounds all four walls and a tall rectangular table in the middle of the room, there isn’t much of a decoration inside. There’s one door, no windows, and a single grating on the floor from which more sweetly scented steam gushes out when the old one starts dissipating. The only source of light is bright red; it dyes the vapor floating around and your dripping skin crimson.
Some of the women around you are chatting quietly, but most of them sleep with the light fabric everyone was given beforehand covering their naked bodies.
You sigh. You really needed this.
Mando’s bounty is apparently hiding somewhere in the maze of steam and pools and mysterious rooms that make up the healing baths. It’s supposed to be an easy enough job: The son of a wealthy Rebel official had…dishonored a high society girl who was already engaged and skipped town. His own family put the bounty on him. All Mando has to do is shake him up a little to teach him a lesson and deliver him to his father. It isn’t the kind of job he’d usually take, but the money’s good and the risk low, and he can’t really afford to reject sources of income with an extra mouth to feed.
A woman walks out of the steaming cave, and most of the vapor streams out of the room, which lowers the temperature of the chamber but increases the one under your fingertips.
You tagged along because you figured some rich brat lounging in the more questionable corners of the local business wouldn’t be too dangerous. Plus, you’re sick of the Razor Crest’s shower, whose only temperatures are cold and fucking freezing.
You honestly can’t remember the last time you were allowed to relax for such a long time.
The steam rises again, and you swear it’s a little thicker than before. You’re sweating more. Your skin tingles.
To your left, a female Togruta and a woman are talking on a corner, a little too close to each other. The Togruta is murmuring on the other woman’s ear and brings a hand down to caress her knee. You only catch a word: “upstairs”. She nods slowly and takes her companion’s hand. They stand up and leave the room, the vapor following them out.
You haven’t even been here that long. The grating has only emitted new vapor three or four times, but your mind is already slipping. The mist is heavy on your shoulders and its odor lovelier every time you inhale. You could swear it started smelling of wild flowers, yet now it reminds you of burnt wood and rain. Of metal. Of him.
Fuck.
You throw your head back, bumping it against the cold stone.
You’ve been torturing yourself with daydreams of the Mandalorian for months now. They were gentle at first, only innocent musings about him that you entertained because they made you feel giddy and naive. Could he ever see you as anything more than an employee? Could it ever develop into something more intimate? You started wondering how he’d move his lips against yours; how he’d hold your face in his large palm.
It was all still chaste enough, but that didn’t last very long. You see him every day, hear his every breath, grunt, and dramatic sigh. You study the way he moves, his powerful build, the carefulness of his arms when he cradles his son and his violence when manhandling his prisoners. It all got crammed inside you and, soon enough, your fantasies turned darker. Could he ever see you as a woman? Would he claim you, if given the opportunity?
You usually weed these fantasies before they can take root. You’re painfully aware that you can’t have him. He’s a serious person—consumed entirely by his child, his Creed, and his work. More importantly, he’s a good man who’s always been courteous to you and doesn’t deserve to be at the receiving end of your filthy yearnings.
And yet, right now…right here, where the women’s mumbling sounds like whispered confessions and his scent is crowding you and you have to work for every single breath you take and your better judgement stayed at the Crest…right now, you don’t stop them from coming. And, fuck, you know he’s here somewhere, hunting for his prey. What if he found you? What would you be willing to—
A loud crash and a man’s shriek interrupt your train of thought.
The remaining women in the chamber exchange panicked stares and, as if bouncing on springs, suddenly sprint out of the room, taking most of the steam with them. The screaming continues, along with a few grunts and some bangs. A couple of doors slam shut.
You melt further into your seat. It’s Mando. He’s found the quarry.
The brat’s apparently putting up a fight, because the sounds of chaos keep coming from different parts of the building. You feel completely relaxed.
An exhalation of the lattice makes up for the lost mist. Droplets condense on your flesh and mix with your sweat. You raise your wrist to your nose and—sure enough—his smell is there, but now it’s mingled with yours, and the blend creates an addictive aroma. Is this what it would smell like, if you two ever had an encounter? Would he be willing to bare his skin to you and allow the moisture of your bodies to blend into one? Or would he fuck you clothed and urgently, barricaded by his armor?
A blaster goes off, and something plummets into the floor, but you’re a lot more focused on the way the flimsy cloth you were provided with is sticking to your chest. It’s soaked at this point and doing very little to cover you, so you lift a heavy arm to work it off your body. Your bare ass is warm when in presses back down on the bench, which makes the stone cooler. You try to imagine it’s beskar.
You know you’re losing it when you start feeling sorry for the quarry. He’s probably just some rich idiot who was looking for a quick fuck with a sense of danger, but what if he isn’t? What if he and the girl truly wanted each other and could no longer hold back? If someone knows what it’s like to want someone out of your reach, it’s you. If someone knows that agonizing desire…
It takes you a little too long to put a finger on the third smell that’s mixing in the room. It’s been weeks—probably months—since you last touched yourself. With your responsibilities on the Crest, you barely have time to sleep and shower, let alone take care of your other, more primal needs. So, you don’t immediately recognize the pungent odor of your own arousal. Once you do, though, you know it won’t relent.
And, even though the feverish fog filling the room more by the second is entering your ears and scrambling your resolve, you still find some moral righteousness in you that judges your desire to pleasure yourself to the thought of the Mandalorian. Because he doesn’t deserve to be disrespected like that. Because he doesn’t think of you like that.
But your hair clings to your damp face and neck, the mineral presses icy against your backside, and beads of sweat and moisture drop from your slippery nipples. And maybe…maybe if you only feel yourself. Not explicitly masturbate, but maybe if you just rub your body a little some of the ache will go away.
You place your hand on your left knee, because it’s only a knee and nothing bad has ever happened from touching one’s knee. You draw circles around it with a finger, then your entire palm. You try to stretch your leg and support it on the table in the middle of the deserted room, but it’s too far back for your foot to reach, so you bend your leg towards you and rest your heel on the bench. By the time your hand slides lower to your calf, gathers the moisture there, and rubs it on your ankle, the raucous sounds outside are almost completely muffled by the ringing of your ears. The red steam grows denser, and you have to open your mouth to breathe in as much oxygen as you can, which is why your exhale sounds like a moan. That’s what you tell yourself.
Hands sliding against your sides and drawing lazy patterns around your ribs, you wonder how he’d touch you. He could be gentle and take his time exploring you, trying to enjoy the rare instance of feeling someone else’s bare skin come to life under his touch. Your hands scoop your breasts and test their weight. Or, perhaps, he’d be in a hurry, drunk on the sensation and unable to control himself at the first caress of your soft curves. It’s difficult to know which one you want more.
Both of your hands sail down aimlessly to your belly and press there. How big is he? You’d like to be able to feel him between your legs afterwards, after he’d go back to being the Mandalorian, as a reminder that he let himself be something else with you. Ten digits land on your thigh and massage there, slowly gliding together up, up, up, until they’re almost where you most want them most. They stop. You’re panting and you swallow hard.
“Maker,” you mumble to yourself. You’re obviously more worked up than before, so you can either stop right there and keep your moral high ground, or…or—
The answer comes from somewhere outside the cave, when you hear the thump of something substantial hitting the door, followed by a low, unequivocal groan. The modulated baritone sends a flood between your legs.
And, just like that, you give up.
You spread your legs and lean your hips forward, pressing your open cunt against the gelid surface; it’s so cold it burns into you. A ragged whimper pushes past your mouth, but your ears don’t register it, since you’ve started rocking back and forth against the black ore, finally throwing wood into the fire that started burning months before. You picture cold beskar instead, thrusting back and forth between your folds to bring you to your release, strong thighs moving lively beneath you.
You’re suffocating. The first time your clit brushes the edge of the bench, you throw your head back, bring your right hand to your breast, and hold on to it for dear life. Your small fingers knead the fat there, but it feels better if you imagine coarse leather doing it instead. Fuck, would he be as quiet and stoic as he always is? Or would he let you hear every moan and grunt? Would he whisper every dirty thing he wants to do to you or would he let you guess? The pace of your back and forth rutting quickens and your guts knot tighter. 
“M-mando…” You try to be quiet; if you can hear him outside he can probably hear you too. You limit yourself to a few tortured sobs, but the blood-red vapor is making it harder to breathe, sweat covers every inch of your skin, and all openings of your body feel horribly empty.
Your scoot back on your seat, open your legs wider, and sink your right index and middle fingers inside your pulsing hole. Two fingers of your left hand go inside your mouth. A loud, long moan of relief pushes through your fingers and lips. You’re too far gone to care.
The digits inside your pussy stretch you open, swirl in circles, move in any way that will cure the awful ache you’ve been fighting for fucking months. What about the helmet, would he leave it on? Blindfold you? Maybe he’d take it off, but get you down on all fours and grab your hair to prevent you from looking back.  
Your eyelids drop. A fat droplet drags down your spine and into the crack of your ass. Your tongue licks your own skin eagerly, tasting their salty sweat and fantasizing about your Mandalorian’s fluids. It’s not enough; it can’t be when you can still hear him outside the door, when all you want is to have him inside you, anywhere inside you.
Your fingers will have to make do, so you curl them and hit something that makes your legs cramp. The five-letter nickname everyone calls him bubbles past your throat in an exhausted gasp. You drag your digits out and smear the thick cum they gathered around your inner lips and walls. Your mind races with endless possibilities: Would he demand you cum or forbid it? How many times would he take you? Where would he touch you? Where would he cum? What does he taste like? Is he patient or demanding? You shut your eyes tightly. Something that feels like a tide is steadily climbing to your chest, making your every muscle rigid.
The fog recedes a little. You’re dizzy with pleasure and every fiber of your body is pulling tighter by the second. Your tongue is still sucking at your fingers—picturing pulsing veins and velvety skin—when you start drawing quick circles around your clit. The stone under your ass grows a little warmer. Drool spills out of your mouth. 
You’re close. You’re so fucking close. Your panting turns erratic, your hips buck forward, one of your leg stretches, and your toes brush the cold material of the table.
“S-stars, Mando…!”
You’re right there, right there, and—
Wait.
Your toes are brushing the chamber’s table. The same table you couldn’t reach earlier. You stop grinding and remove your fingers. New vapor spouts out of the gratings.
The table moves.
Sweat stings your eyes when you try to open them, hesitantly, not really wanting to see what’s in front of you.
You blink a few times and see an opaque silver mirror where your disheveled appearance stares back. One of your hands reaches forward unprompted and brushes the cloudy layer of condensed water on the mirror’s surface. It’s beskar. It’s Mando’s beskar cuisse.
You lift your face and see a T-visor floating in crimson fog, staring down at you. Panic and adrenaline pump in your veins, but you both stay like that for half a second, almost drinking each other in. Waiting.
Until his hand starts moving, so slowly, towards your body.
It’s hard to tell where it’s heading.
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noladyme · 3 years
Text
The Crown Princess of Charming - part 15
Welcome to Charming - its name says it all. Cat needed a fresh start; and though she hadn’t planned on that being in the arms of the crown prince of this little town’s bikerclub - that was what happened. Charming CA would either be the death of her - or a whole new life.
Rated M
Tags (let me know if you want on the list) @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ @edonaspanca​
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15
I wrapped up my phone in the kitchen towel and the bag again; and went into the yard; leaving it in the small shed there. Walking back inside; I looked meaningfully at Jax. “She has what she needs…”, I said. He nodded, and pulled me into his arms again. “Last night…”, I muttered into the crook of his neck. He shook his head. “Not the last. I’ll be back”. I sighed. “A year, Jax…”. “Just keep my side of the bed cold”, he smiled. I put my lips to his; looking deep into his eyes. “Not tonight”, I whispered.
Jax put his hands under my bottom; and lifted me to straddle him. Smiling all the way; he carried me to the bedroom – lowering me onto the bed; hovering over me. “I love you”, he smiled. I put my hand behind his neck; and pulled him closer to me. “I love you too”, I said, and our lips met.
For the longest time, we just kissed. Our lips perfectly molded, and our tongues gently brushed against each other. When our lips weren’t connected; we where whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears.
“The first time you got behind me on my bike; I had to shift in my seat to keep anyone from seeing my hardon”, Jax grinned. “Really?”, I smiled. “Yeah. Gemma was gonna send Rat over with those papers for you to sign. I snatched them up, to take them to you myself. Just wanted to see your face again”. I chuckled. “Well, I gave you more than you bargained for, huh?”. “Darlin’; seeing you in nothing but that towel…”. His hand travelled under my top, to brush his fingers across my belly. “Sent some very impure thoughts through my mind”. He kissed the secret spot on my neck. I shivered under his touch. “I kept telling myself; you can’t have sex with the biker!”, I grinned. “I’m happy you decided to break that vow”, Jackson breathed; and sat up to remove his t-shirt.
I sat up myself; and began kissing Jax across his chest; letting my tongue flicker over his nipple. He let out a small gasp; and tugged at the hem of my top; to remove it. With my arms in the air, he pulled it over my head. He smirked softly. “You wore this bra the first time we slept together”. “I forgot”, I smiled. “I think I was more focused on you taking it off”. He raised a brow and tilted his head. “Well, I was happy to”, he leered. “Let me get at them…”.
He grinned, and expertly snapped open my bra; pulling it off me. He pushed me down on the mattress; and pushed my breasts together; nibbling slightly at my right nipple. He ran his teeth over it; and I whimpered from the signals it sent to my core. “Righty is happy… let’s check lefty”, he snickered; and repeated the action on my left nipple. “She’s perking up…”. “Mmhmm”, I moaned. I ran my nails across the reaper on his back; and he let out a slight groan.
“How many orgasms did I promise you?”, he breathed. “A shitload”, I panted. He chuckled; and lowered himself to the waistline of my shorts; kissing across my skin just above it. “Let’s get these off”. He unbuttoned the shorts; and tugged them down my hips and bottom; having me raise it, so he could remove them and my panties all at once.
I was stretched out naked under him; and he sat on his knees; straddling my legs. He looked me over – his eyes soft and admiring. “Your body… baby…”. Jax lowered himself onto me; and kissed me deeply. Moving his lips down; he ran his hands over my mounds, my ribs and hips – all while letting his mouth explore my chest, belly; and finally ending up just over my warmth.
“I’m gonna be thinking about this every time I eat prison-jello…”, he smirked; and slid his tongue over my nub. “You telling me I taste like jello?”, I whimpered – body twitching under his touch. “No, I hate jello”, he grinned up at me. “I’m gonna be thinking of this, to block out the taste of it”. He slicked a trace from my clit to my entrance, and back again. “You taste like… sunshine… ice cream… and tasty, tasty pussy”. I laughed; before a flick of his tongue made me cry out in extasy. I grabbed on to his hair; and panted heavily; as he buried his face in my folds.
Jax grabbed my knees; and put them over his shoulders, to give him better access to me. He slid his thumb into me for a second; before trailing it down my taint – finally probing the ring of muscle behind my genitals. The action made me jolt; and squeal. It felt so good to have him stimulating all of my privates like that. His thumb entered my ring just slightly. “Someday, baby”, he breathed against me. “Keep dreaming, Teller…”, I moaned. “That’s not… Oh my god!”. I cried out; as his thumb entered my hole down to the knuckle. He chuckled against me. “You want me to stop?”. “You… oh, no. Keep going… don’t…”. Jax sucked hard on my clit. His free hand found my main entrance; and two fingers began pushing at my front wall.
The intense sensation of his fingers working on me; and his tongue playing with my nub, as he sucked it into his mouth – sent me over the edge; and I literally screamed out his name; as I came with violent shocks streaming through my body.
Jackson carefully withdrew his fingers, and ran his hand up my body; as he came up to lay next to me. My body was still convulsing. “Are you ok?”, he whispered; with a wide smile on his handsome face. “I… can’t talk…”, I croaked. Jax laughed; and kissed me gently. ”Can I get you anything?”, he smiled. I managed to relax my breathing; and smirked at him. “Already?”. He grinned in surprise. “Just take your pants of, Jackson!”, I chuckled.
Jackson looked like a giddy teenager; and jumped out of bed – wrestling his pants and boxers off. He threw himself on the bed; and sat himself with his back to the headboard. I looked down at his wanting hardness; and bit my lip. Straddling him; I lowered myself down on it. Jax’s face contorted. “Holy sh… baby…”, he gasped. I put my hand against the headboard, and began riding him. His hands found my breasts, and he hold on to me for dear life; as I grinded against his groin.
I clenched my walls around him; drawing loud groans from his mouth. “How do you do that?”, he asked. “It’s like sex and a handjob all at… woah!”. I’d clenched my muscles again. “Wouldn’t want you to forget me”, I smiled. He leant forwards; and met my lips. “Never gonna happen”, he growled.
He wrapped his arms around my back; and threw me down to lay on my back. I lifted my leg, to let him put my knee over his shoulder. Jackson began thrusting into me with force. He was hitting my g-spot perfectly. “You found it again”, I whimpered with a laugh. “Oh god…”. I put my hands on Jax’s bottom; digging my fingers into its firmness – desperately trying to force him harder into me. “More?”, he breathed. I closed my eyes, and nodded. With a grunt; Jackson pounded into me fiercely – almost making me sob from the amazing sensation. He looked at me worriedly. “Too much? Are you ok?”. “Keep going”, I pleaded. He brushed my lips with his own; and pounded into me again.
Jax put his hand to my throat, and squeezed gently. Every inch of my body was on fire; and I let out a guttural sound, that then turned in to another scream. My body tensed; and I came again. Jackson thrusted hard into me; riding out my orgasm; to reach his own – finally finishing with a growl of relief, and coming inside me.
Kissing my lips gently; he laid down next to me. The air was heavy with sex, love – and sadness. “Why does it feel like forever?”, Jackson muttered. “Because it might as well be…”, I croaked. He turned his body; and pulled me close; kissing my temple. “Did… did anyone ever tell you about a prison-clause?”, he muttered. “No…”, I said. “Thank god!”, he smiled. I chuckled. “I think I know what it means, from the name…”, I whispered. “And that’s not going to be an issue. Juice will be on the inside with you”.
My joke instantly made Jackson laugh; and he attacked my mouth with rough kisses. “I told you!”, he grinned. “Don’t joke about that!”. He squeezed my ass cheek and growled into the crook of my neck. “Yes, sir”, I giggled.
Lust took us over again; and Jax delivered on his promise. I spent the night having a shitload of orgasms.
---
When we woke up; we didn’t speak. We merely got dressed, and ready to leave. There wasn’t anything to say, after all. The plan was set; and now was the time to strike. Jax kissed me deeply; and we got on his bike, to drive to TM. A black escalade followed us closely; parking a little way down the street from the lot.
The parking spots were mostly empty, save for Clay’s, Happy’s and Juice’s bikes. The door to the garage was closed; and I guessed more motorcycles where hold up in there. Inside the clubhouse, all of Samcro – except Tig, who had already said goodbye, and was waiting in the warehouse with Quinn and the Nomads – where waiting. Chicago – including VP Mike – where gathered in a corner – solemnly looking at us, as we stepped into the room. Unser was leaning against the bar. The badge usually adorning his uniform, was gone. He looked content.
“It’s time”, Jax said. He, Happy and Juice were all wearing blue jeans and black hoodies; dark scarves hanging around their necks. “Nichols will be at the warehouse in an hour and a half; giving us time to get there, switch, and start the chase”. “They won’t try to take us in, before we reach it?”, Happy asked. “No. Stahl will want me and the drugs. We’ll be safe until we get there”, Jackson answered. “Just don’t make too much of a ruckus on the lot”.
“We got your back, son”, Clay said. “You mother told me to say she loves you… Abel’s in safe hands”. Jax looked at me. “I know he is”. They embraced; and Clay stroked my cheek. “See you on the other side, teach’”, he smiled. I returned the gesture. “Will do”.
Unser shook Jax’s hand. “The phone is in the shed in our yard”, Jax said. “I got it, kid”, the old man said. “How does retirement smell?”, Jax smiled. “Like stale beer and motor oil”, Unser grinned.
Opie came over, and hugged Jax. “Lyla send her love to both of you”. He turned and hugged me. “Thanks, man”, Jackson muttered. He began embracing all his brothers in turn; Happy and Juice doing the same. “Have a cold one ready for me when I get back”, Juice said to Chibs; who had tears running down his cheeks. He patted his brother’s cheek. “Two of them”, he said. “And the ginger from the gas-station”. Juice grinned in glee.
Jax pulled the scot in for another hug. “Take care of my family for me, brother”. “We will”, Chibs said, and wiped his eyes. “We got ‘em”, Opie agreed. Jax sent a loving smile to his best friend. “Thanks”.
Piney grabbed me into a warm embrace. “Stay safe, sweetheart”, he muttered; before patting Jax’s shoulder.
Bobby came over with what looked like a black vest. He kissed my cheek, and handed it to me. “Put this on, sweetheart… just in case”. He pulled it over my head; and Jax strapped the velcro straps across my chest. “Bulletproof”, he muttered – looking grave. “I’ll be ok”, I whispered. 
He stroked my cheek, and kissed my forehead. “You ride with them, just like you do with me”, he said seriously. “Hold on tight, and keep your head down”. “We got her, man”, Happy said. Juice nodded. Jackson stepped back. “Ok… let’s do this”. He pulled the blue flannel out of the bag we’d brought; and I put it on, closing the buttons over the Kevlar vest, to hide it from view.
The three future felons each grabbed a brown package from a table; and strapped it to their torsos with duct tape – making sure they wouldn’t drop the drugs needed to take them in.
“Make it look real, boys”, Clay exclaimed with a smile. Jax nodded and grabbed my hand – taking a deep breath. “Go!”.
Happy, Juice, Jax and I ran out the door. Jax pulled me with him to his bike; looking towards the street, where the agents were waiting. He pulled me flush against his body; kissing me with passion, before handing me my helmet. I put it on. Seconds later, Clay, Opie, Chibs and Bobby came running after us. “Jax!”, Clay roared after us; and pulled his gun. The three others pulled their own weapons, and aimed them at our group. Happy pulled his own gun; and shot in their direction – missing on purpose. The men chasing us fell to the ground, covering their heads.
We jumped on the bikes – my arms firmly locked around Jacksons torso – and we sped out of the lot, and down the street. We were going to fast for me to look back, but I noticed Juice looking back, from where he was riding next to us - and he nodded at Jax; before trailing in behind us. They’re following us. Stahl is coming.
We drove past the sign at the beginning of town – and left Charming behind.
---
Speeding through stop-signs and down the highway, the wind was blowing in my ears. I had made myself leave fear behind. This wasn’t the time to go into anxiety-mode – and I had full trust in the man I was currently holding on to.
After about 30 minutes, we neared a cluster of trees, marking the edge of forestland. “Hold on!”, Jax yelled; and made a sharp turn. We continued down smaller roads; Happy and Juice constantly zigzagging behind us, to cover my back from the agents trailing us.
I saw a small sign telling me we where nearing somewhere called Oswald’s Pond. We made another sharp turn, down a gravelly road – small bumps sending jolts through the bike. I held on harder to Jax. “You’re doing great, baby!”, he yelled back at me. Happy came up next to us. “We lost them”, he yelled. Jax nodded.
Another turn, down an even smaller road; led us to a small building – the warehouse. A double door opened, and we got inside on the bikes – the door closing behind us again. Tig was waiting for us, with the Nomads; wearing the same outfit as his brothers. Jax jumped off the bike; and turned to face me. “I love you!”, he said, his eyes fierce – and he kissed me deeply one last time, before turning to Tig. “Take care of her, man”. “I will, brother”, Tig nodded – all jest gone from his usually cheery face.
Quinn handed me a backpack. I recognized it as Ellies. It was filled with something – giving it some weight and fill.
Happy, Juice and Tig pulled up their hoods, put on sunglasses; and lifted their scarves to cover their faces. “Go!”, Jax yelled; and Tig jumped on his bike in front of me. “Hold on, puddin’!”, he said; and I put my arms around him.
Jax smiled encouragingly at me; and went to open the doors at the other end of the building. I looked back at him a final time before he closed the door behind us, as we sped out.
I love you, Jackson.
---
We sped back down the road we’d arrived on, suddenly hearing sirens in the distance. Tig was a good driver; but I couldn’t help but feel my heart in my throat. I grabbed on to his hoodie - digging my fingers into the fabric. “Doing good, Cat!”, he yelled.
Happy and Juice followed closely behind us, until we made the sharp turn back onto the larger gravel road. The sirens where growing louder, and I could hear them multiply. There was more than one car trailing us. The two other bikes began zigzagging behind me again; before we took one more turn, leading us onto asphalt. Tig made a hand gesture to tell the others to speed up.
“ATF! Pull over!”, someone was yelling from a loudspeaker on one of the cars. Happy – or Juice; I couldn’t tell from the speed and their masks – trailed up next to me and Tig; before making a hand-gesture himself. This one was a middle finger to our pursuers. I heard Tig let out a loud laugh; and I joined in myself.
Suddenly, we split up. Tig and I went down a smaller road, with one of the others; and the last rider continued forward. We met up minutes later at larger road. The single rider had made some distance to one of the cars; which was struggling to keep up.
We hit a speedbump; making me jump in my seat. Just like with Jax… Just like with Jax…
Tig turned down another small road. This one led us into an industrial area, filled with small buildings. Stopping the bike; Tig pulled his gun. “Switch!”, he yelled. He shot at the following cars; and I jumped off the bike, running towards Juice, who was waving me over. He would be the second Jax.
Climbing on behind him, I held on to his torso; and he sped behind a building – before doubling back; and driving in between two of the cars following; forcing them to swerve. Juice drove us back onto the road, before taking a turn down towards a junction. Tig and Happy had disappeared behind some of the other buildings, and came from two different roads to join us. We drove together, taking turns every chance we got.
I had no idea where in the county we were – merely held on to Juice for dear life. “It’s gonna get bumpy!”, Juice yelled, and took a turn down another gravel road. No shit!, I thought. The road we were on was more an animal path than anything else – surrounded by trees. Mud splayed up my leg, when we hit a puddle. “Sorry”, Juice yelled.
I saw one of the other riders a through the trees a good 30 paces from us. He had a car right on his ass; and turned back to shoot for the tires of it. The car swerved; and hit a tree. “Woo!”, I heard the rider yell.
Once through the trees, the path ended; and we were back on asphalt. Two cars where blocking our way; and Juice had to make a hard brake; putting his foot to the ground, to turn us around fast. “Stop!”, we heard from the loudspeaker. I heard a loud pop; and Juice flinched in front of me. One of the other riders almost took a spill; but managed to get up in time to follow us. We split up again.
The two other drivers headed in separate directions, and Juice once again took us off road – heading over a grassy field, towards what looked like an abandoned farm. Happy was already waiting for us by the main house. “Come on!”, he roared, and Juice halted. He doubled over for a second, holding his hand over his thigh. Blood was running from a hole in his jeans. I put my hand on his arm, looking at him in fear. “I’m ok. Go!”, he yelled at me – and I tore myself from my bleeding friend – running towards Happy, and getting on behind him. “Let’s go, princess”, Happy growled, and we once again sped off.
I looked back towards Juice. He’d managed to start driving again; but his body-language was strained. He was in real pain from the gunshot. Happy drove us straight through an old barn, shooting back towards the following cars. This man had no mercy when it came to his friends getting hurt. “Assholes”, he roared.
Tig met us on the other side of the barn, trailing up next to us. “Last stretch!”, he yelled. He and Juice returned to zigzagging behind us, before once again taking a turn in separate directions. At this point, the agents following us seemed to have no idea which rider was Jax, and focused on getting all three of them.
We needed to create some distance to be able to hand over the backpack to Clay safely; without getting shot at. Happy gave made his bike give it all; and for a second it felt like I was going down a rollercoaster. We hit a bump, and took air for a second. My strained squeal was blocked out by Happy’s cheerful Whooo!.
He suddenly made a drifting turn; and we were head on with our pursuer. “What are you doing?”, I yelled. “Chicken”, he laughed. Oh, shit! Happy sped up, and leant forward; revving the engine. With a squeal of the back tire, we suddenly flew down the road – head to head with the car. “Come get me, shithead!”, Happy growled. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes.
The sirens came closer, and the wind was blowing around my head. I held on to Happy harder than I had ever held on to anything in my life. “Jerk alert!”, Happy yelled; and I opened my eyes, just in time to see the car swerve off the road, and off the road, hitting a large boulder. “Yeah!”, happy whooped, and we left behind the totaled vehicle.
Turning down a larger road, Tig and Juice met up with us again. All three bikers where laughing loudly. “Lost ‘em a mile back!”, I heard Juice yell. “It’s time!”, Happy answered. Tig sped up, and drove in front of us, and led us to an exit, down a hill. At the bottom of it, a group of bikes where blocking our path.
Clay, Chibs, Bobby and Opie where waiting for us. They were all aiming their guns at us. We made a halt; and with sirens nearing, we slowly got off the bikes; hands in the air. Out the corner of my eye, I saw one of the cars stopping; and people getting out. I’d recognize the bony ass on one of them anywhere. Stahl.
“It’s over, assholes”, Clay smirked. “Hand over the bag…”. I saw Stahl put up her hands to stop her underlings from shooting. She wanted the handoff to happen. I could practically smell her gleeful sweating, over catching the president of Samcro with drugs in his hands.
I slowly walked towards Clay, and took off the backpack – handing it to him. “That’s it, sweetheart”, he said. “We got it”, he muttered below his breath.
Stahl came running forward, three agents at her heels. “Hands in the air!”, she yelled. We all raised our hands. “Guns down”, she demanded. The men in front of us all slowly dropped their weapons on the ground; kicking them away. Clay glared at Stahl, as she walked up to him. “Well, Mr. Morrow”, she grinned. “Seems we caught you with something you shouldn’t have. Give me the bag”. Clay handed her the backpack; and a smile ghosted his face.
Stahl set the bag on the ground, and while her men aimed their guns at us; she opened it. Her jaw dropped. “What the hell is this?”, she said; holding up a book. “Where are the drugs?”. “No drugs…”, Clay said. “Samcro doesn’t deal in drugs”. “Then why were you chasing them?”, she hissed. “She stole my kids favorite book…”, Opie said. Stahl threw the volume on the ground. It was the copy of Pippi Longstocking I’d given Ellie. I looked up at Opie; and the corner of his lips twitched.
“Shit!”, Stahl said. “Fine… We still got murder”. She turned to face the three masked bikers. “Jackson Teller, you are under arrest for the murder of Joshua Kohn. Anything you say, can and will…”. The three men began laughing. “What?”, she sneered. “Take those masks of them”.
The three agents removed the bikers glasses and masks; revealing Juice, Happy and Tig; all grinning and laughing at Stahl’s guffawed face. “Where is he?”, she yelled. She grabbed my arm. “Catherine, where is Jackson Teller?”. “I don’t know…”, I said – truthfully. “Search them”, she sneered. Within seconds, the agents had found the drugs strapped to the three men. They were all cuffed; and read their rights.
Clay shook his head in mock sadness. “Really, guys… I’m so disappointed in you all”. “Take the rest of them in for illegal gun possession”, Stahl growled. “All our guns are registered and legal; ma’am”, Bobby said. “Shit!”, Stahl screamed.
It was my time. “Agent Stahl?”, I said. “I’m willing to testify…”. I swallowed hard. “Against Jackson”. Her lips turned upwards in a terrifying smile. “Really?”. I nodded. “Yes… please, just get me out of here. I’m afraid!”. Stahl narrowed her eyes at me. “Take Huey, Dewey, and Louie back to Charming. I got miss Rose… The rest can go”.
I sent a look towards my three protectors. They all nodded at me knowingly. See you in a year. A smile ghosted my lips. I’d never be able to thank them enough.
I followed Stahl back to the car; and got in the backseat – letting her drive me back to Charming.
---
An hour later, I was back in the interview room at Charming PD – a cup of coffee and a pack of smokes in front of me. At this point, I was alone. I’m not going to jail. I’m going to take care of Abel for Jax. Be Momma Cat. I can do this.
Agent Stahl walked into the room with a file folder; and sat down in front of me. She tried for an encouraging look. “I’m happy you’ve finally decided to talk to me”, she said softly. “It’s just too bad it had to take such a chase to get us together… Did Jackson make you do that, to let him slip away?”. “Something like that”, I muttered. She nodded. “It’s hard, when you love someone that much… but he left you behind, kitty”. “Don’t call me that”, I snarled. She sighed. “Sorry… Catherine”. She smiled gently. “My agents are still looking for Mr. Teller. We will catch him; and once we do, he’s going to do hard time”. I looked up at her. “Yeah?”. Stahl nodded. “Yes. And you’re going to help me with that”.
I shrugged. “You already know everything… I know my phone was bugged”. She tilted her head. “If you did; why did you keep it around?”, she asked. “To set up Jackson?”. To set up you… “I… love him”, I said. “But you were also afraid”, she muttered. I nodded.
“Can I smoke?”, I asked. “Go ahead”, Stahl smiled. “I quit myself; but a little second-hand smoke once in a while, helps with the withdrawals”. Keep trying to be my friend, bitch. I lit my cigarette; and took a draw from it. “I don’t want to go to jail”, I said. “That doesn’t have to happen”, she smiled. “We both know Jackson killed Kohn… I have the recordings”. I nodded. “But you can’t use them”. She grimaced. “They weren’t exactly procured legally”.
I sighed. “So your case rests on me… and that guy who saw me”. “He’s out of the picture”, she grumbled. “I need your help”. I nodded. “If I help you; you’ll let me go, right?”. She smiled widely. “Ally Lowen already set up the papers. I have them right here”. She opened the folder, and took out a pen. “When I sign these, you’re free, as long as you agree to testify in court against Teller”. “Ok”, I whispered.
She reached for my hand; and I jolted in my seat. “I’m sorry… did he hurt you?”. I tried to stiffle my smirk. “He… gets a bit rough”. In bed… it’s heaven. “I understand”, she smiled. “Now, tell me everything, that happened that night”. Nope, can’t let you get it that easy. “I don’t… I still love him. It’s hard”. “He doesn’t care about you”, she said earnestly. “Do you know, how he talks about you when you’re not there?” I let my lip quiver. “You heard him?”, I whispered. She nodded, with a sad look in her eyes. “He calls you names. Calls you stupid…”. I looked down. “You heard everything… even when we…”. “Had sex… yeah”, she admitted – trying for a solemn look. Bet that got you off…
She leant back in her chair. “There was a long break, when I couldn’t hear anything… why was that?”. “Jax figured it was bugged… made me hide it. I told him it was fine; that I needed it in case my old job needed to get a hold of me”. “Right… I forgot”. She sighed. “I could help you with that… get your job back”. “Really?”. “Yeah… though, are you sure you want to stay in Charming? Samcro isn’t gone. You might not be safe”.
I sighed. “You’re right… ok”. I chewed my lip. “Can you get me out of here? Somewhere safe?”. She nodded. “I’ll get you into protective custody as soon as I’ve signed these papers”, she said, and gestured to the document in front of her. “But I need you to tell me what happened first. I need to know what you’ll say in court”.
I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. “Ok”, I said. “Joshua Stahl had been stalking me for over a year. He convinced me to go with him; when he threatened to put the ATF on Jax and the club”. I looked at her; trying to hide my disgust. “I went with him to that motel where you found me”. Where you knew I’d be. “Joshua was about to… rape me… when Jax arrived”. “Who was with him?”, she interrupted. Shit! “I don’t know…”, I said. “I was beat up and terrified. I only had eyes on Jax”. She nodded. “Then what?”. “Jackson pulled a gun, and shot Joshua. Killing him”.
She stared at me intently. “Where did he get the gun from?”. I handed it to him. “It was just there”, I muttered. “It was just there…”, she repeated. “Yes”, I whispered.
Stahl picked up the pen, and tapped it against the table for a moment – stalling. Keep calm. I took a deep draw from my smoke; waiting. “Will you repeat this in court, Catherine?”, she asked earnestly. No… no, no, no… “Yes”, I whispered.
She looked at me a moment longer; lifted the pen – and signed the documents, setting me free. I closed my eyes, and let out a deep breath. “You’re a free woman”, Stahl said. “Now let’s get you somewhere safe, ok?”. “Thank you”, I croaked. “No”, she said, taking my hand again. It was as clammy and cold as Joshua’s had been. “Thank you”.
An officer opened the door, and peaked inside. “Agent Stahl; all your men are still looking for Teller”, he said. “Do you need an escort for transport?”. She smiled, and shook her head. “No, us girls will be fine”.
We both stood up; and I was about to follow her out of the room; when I halted. “Agent Stahl?”. “Yes, Catherine?”, she asked. “How did you know where to find me?... with Kohn”. Her eyes flickered for a moment. “I was aware… that Kohn might not have had the best intentions for you. Made sure to know where he’d go”. I swallowed bile. “Why didn’t you stop him before he got to me?”, I asked. “Where you hoping Jax would show up?” Did you set him up, you rancid piece of shit? She narrowed her eyes at me. “I had every intention of getting to you in time… but I made sure that if I couldn’t, you’d still be saved”, she said. “Jax would want you back”.
I tried to control my breath. You did… you were going to let me get hurt, to get to Jax… you deserve everything you have coming your way.
---
We left the police station through the front door. Stahl didn’t seem very worried we’d be stopped by the club, or anyone else for that matter. I got in the back seat of the car we’d arrived in; and prepared mentally for the last stretch of the journey. Stahl seemed ecstatic, strumming her fingers on the wheel. It took everything I had, not reach in front of me; and slam her face into the windshield.
Once on the highway, tears began streaming down my face. Stahl caught my eyes in the mirror, and handed me a tissue. “It’s ok. He can’t get you anymore”.
Jax. At this point I had no idea where he was. I didn’t even know if his part of the plan had worked. The next time I saw him; I could be looking at him across a courtroom; forced to testify against him. I could be sending him to jail for the rest of both our lives. I wanted to scream.
Suddenly, I heard sirens. A police car was racing to catch up to us. “What the hell…?”, Stahl muttered. “What does he want?”. Unser pulled up next to us; gesturing for Stahl to pull over. At the next exit; she drove off – letting Unser pull up behind us. He exited his car; and walked up to her window.
“Agent Stahl!”, he smiled. “I’m gonna need you to let me take miss Rose back to Charming”. I exhaled in stutters. “What are you talking about?”, Stahl sneered. “I’m taking her into protective custody, up until Jackson Tellers trial…”. “There won’t be a trial”, Unser said.
Stahl got out of the car to join him on the side of the road. “I think dementia is getting to you, Unser”, she chuckled. “Just get back in your car…”. “Teller turned himself over to the state prosecutor on drug charges, just over an hour ago”, Unser said. “He’s in custody right now”. “Drug charges”, Stahl snarled. “Look; you don’t believe me – call this number…”. Unser pulled out my android from his pocket. “Use my phone…”. He dialed a number; and handed her the phone.
Unser looked at me meaningfully, and nodded. It’s done.
The agent snatched the phone from his hands, and put it to her ear. “This is agent Stahl… yes… You’re shitting me… No! My case is… That can’t override murder! My evidence… Put him on!... You listen here, you biker piece of shit, you can’t do this. You’re killing my career!”. She let out a roar; and threw the phone on the ground.
A group of bikes came driving down the road towards us. I opened the car door, and stepped out on the road. “Stay in the goddamn car, Catherine!”, Stahl growled. I walked over to my phone; and picked it up. “Jax…?”. My voice was quivering. “Cat… it’s me”, he breathed. “It’s over, baby… It’s over…”.
The bikes made a halt a few yards away; and suddenly we were surrounded by Clay, Mike, Chibs, Bobby and Opie. I looked at Stahl. “It’s over”, I whispered. “Baby, put me on speaker”, Jax said quietly. I pressed the screen, letting everyone around me hear what he had to say. “Agent Stahl?”. I looked at the wide-eyed woman who was shaking in her heels, at the sight of the angry men surrounding her. “She’s here”, I said. “Listen, agent. I’m sorry your case didn’t hold up. Like you heard; I’ve turned myself in, to the prosecutor. I’m about to be taken to state pen… I wish I could be there to see what happens next”. I could hear the smile in his voice.
Stahl looked at the phone with wild eyes. “You can’t do this”, she hissed. “Jackson… do you know what your brothers will do to Catherine, after what you did?”. She looked at me. A smile ghosted my face. “Cat?”, Jax said. His voice was now low – pained, but loving. “I got you something… I wanted to give it to you myself; but there wasn’t time”.
Clay stepped over to me; and reached out his hand to me. He dropped a white gold ring in my hand. It was shaped like a crow’s head, turned to the side; with its wing stretched backwards. The eye of the crow was a black sapphire. “It’s your crow”, Jax said. I chuckled. “When I come back; I’ll give you one to match. We’ll walk up the aisle together”. “Together”, I smiled; tears running down my cheeks. “I love you”. “I love you, Cat. Always will”. He sighed. “I have to go… Tell ‘em all... I’m happy it went down this way”. The men around me nodded solemnly. “They know”, I said. “Goodbye”. “Goodbye, Jackson”.
I hung up the phone, and wiped the tears from my face. I was calm. It was over – and everything was going to be ok. I put on the ring.
Stahl looked from my face; to the ring now resting on my left hand. “Are you crazy, Catherine?”, she hissed. “Do you know what these men will do to you? You flipped on a club member!”. Chibs walked over to me; and wrapped me in his arms; making Stahl’s jaw drop. “Are you all right, my love?”, he asked softly. “I will be”, I said quietly. He kissed my forehead.
Unser sauntered over to us. “Do you need a ride home, sweetie?”, he asked. “She’s got one, old man”, Clay grumbled. “You can go… thanks”. Unser nodded; and went back to his car, to drive away.
Stahl was reaching for her gun, but Bobby quickly aimed his own at her. “You can’t do this…”, she whimpered. “I’m not doing it”, he said. “He is”. He nodded his head towards Opie.
Opie’s face was unreadable. He looked at Stahl with indifferent eyes. “Opie…”, she whimpered. “You don’t have to do this…”. “You killed her…”, he said quietly. “I didn’t… It wasn’t me”, she said. “You… made it happen. Set her up to be killed. You would have done the same to Cat… my best friends future wife”. He shook his head softly. “Just to get what you wanted… No more”.
He looked towards me. “Do you want to see it?”, he muttered. “No… I don’t need to”, I said. I walked over to Stahl. Her eyes were wild. “Catherine… you can’t let this happen!”. I shook my head. “You let me get drugged – almost raped and killed… You just turned your back. So that’s what I will do”. “Go to hell!”, she snarled. “Right after you”. I turned my back; and walked away.
“Get in the car”, I heard Opie say. I went to stand and look down the road. Two car doors closed. There was a quiet muttering; and then a silent pop. I never turned around.
Clay came up to me. “Finish it, Cat”, he muttered. “What?”, I said. He handed me my .38 – the one Jax had given me – then looked down at the phone still in my hand. “Finish it”.
I took a deep breath; and put the phone on the ground in front of me. Cocking the hammer; I aimed at the last link between me; and the life I had left behind. “Goodbye, Josh”, I whispered – and pulled the trigger.
---
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ghostsbabey · 4 years
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Can we pls get sum more ghostface on this blog? I love ur work sm and the last thing u wrote for him was so good 😭
I’m not too sure which ghostface you were referring to, as I do write for both dbd ghostface and OG ghostface! I decided to write for OG and DBD GF just because I feel like both need love. I had to tone it down to some shorter drabbles about them mainly because I’m not too sure which one was requested. I hope that’s okay ^^; 
I will warn that there is violence and blood in the DBD! GF drabble 
OG GF
You sat on the couch, sandwiched between your two lovers as they watched the movie. It was your weekly movie night- your usual life interrupted by your boyfriends as they practically begged you to watch a horror movie. Again. You wouldn’t lie that you had seen too many horror movies, but the time spent with them made it worthwhile- even if they fought over your attention. And from the looks of it, it’d be one of those nights.
Stu had his arm wrapped around you, the bowl of popcorn stuck in your lap. The sound of the movie drowned out the crickets chirping outside the house, and it was peaceful. Until you felt a tug- your body being pulled against Billy’s side. You could feel the tension brewing between the two as a sigh escaped you- so much for the movie. Your body was suddenly being tugged once more towards Stu, his fingers digging into your shoulder. Your grip tightened on the popcorn bowl, not wanting to spill any of it on the floor, before you snapped, “can you two behave? I’m not a rope to play tug of war with.” 
It didn’t take long for Billy to once more pull you against his side, his grin unmistakable as he replied. “We are behaving, we’re here at home instead of dressed up for the kill. Besides, I think you look better leaning on my arm in case you get scared. I’m looking out for you after all.”
“You’re just trying to hog all the attention. Again,” Stu whined, his body dramatically shifting to fall against yours. The sound of the bowl of popcorn clattering against the floor was deafening, the room going quiet as they both looked down at you. Your eyes briefly flicked between them before you stood up, pulling away from Billy’s grasp and causing Stu to fall across his lap. 
“Alright, since I know how this night is going to go, you’re going to sit with each other. Whenever one of you gets scared you can cling to each other, I’m going to sit on the other side of the couch,” you grumbled, slightly annoyed at the loss of popcorn. It took a couple seconds before your mistake dawned upon you, both of their gazes fixed on you like an animal on the hunt. Stu was the first to make a move, his body lunging from the couch to tackle you- Billy following soon behind. 
The movie blared in the background as you were once again sandwiched between them, this time on the floor in a tangle of limbs. “Sorry babe, but you’re here to stay. You said so when you agreed to movie night,” Billy chuckled, his arms tightly wound around you. Stu’s mischievous giggling was unmistakable as he planted a quick kiss to your cheek, a grin plastered on both their faces as they looked at their prize. You sighed, but it was easy to admit that you loved the two idiots, even if they potentially gave you- or themselves- a concussion from the fall.
DBD! GF
The flash of a camera got your attention, your eyes scanning the trial area for any signs of movement. You could feel him watching you, your heart hammering in your chest as you dreaded the feeling of being so exposed. Usually he would take his sweet time watching you during a trial, but this time felt different. Rushed. Sloppy. Shivers ran down your spine as another flash went off, your body spinning around to desperately scan for the usual white mask and hooded figure. Fear crept through your mind as your thoughts wildly ran. There was no reason you could think of as to why he was behaving like this. 
Your thoughts were soon interrupted from the feeling of cold metal against your back- dragging a slow line down your spine. “You aren’t going to run? I thought you were better than that,” his whisper broke the silence, forcing your body into overdrive as you broke into an automatic sprint. How he had snuck up on you so easily was a mystery, yet you didn’t have time to solve it as a glance over your shoulder revealed he was still following you. His eyes burned into your back, the mask hiding his features from you- yet you could feel the intensity of his gaze. 
Your legs burned as you dashed through window after window, doing your best to keep him busy from your teammates- if they were even still alive. The trial was much too quiet for your liking. Another flash caught your eye, his body barreling from around a wall that you had carelessly ran past- his knife plunging into your shoulder with ease. His camera was held steady in his hand, aimed at your face still as another flash went off. You stumbled, staggered from the sudden burning pain, before your leg gave out to send you into a tumbled heap in the dirt. His footsteps sounded unbearably loud as he approached your fallen form, the sound of the leather shifting as he crouched down catching your attention. 
“So careless for a survivor. I expected better from you, yet you barely watch your surroundings-” he paused as his gaze scanned over your body, “it just makes it easier for someone like me. And I think you’re the perfect addition I need to my collection.” The roar of a generator starting was like your death toll, your wide eyes staring at him like a deer in headlights as he absentmindedly dragged the knife along your side. The sting of pain caused your face to contort, tears stinging in your eyes as he dragged the blade through your ankle- another flash. The camera was mere inches from your face, his shuddering breaths making you aware of just how much he was enjoying his little game.
You kicked out with your good leg, connecting with his leg as he let out a loud grunt- his body falling next to yours. “Fuck you,” you spit at him, your hope starting to blossom as another generator roared to life somewhere in the trial. You struggled to get up, the leg he sliced impossible to move even as you tried to force it. Finally, you resorted to a pitiful three legged crawl, your leg dragging behind you as you tried to make as much distance as possible. The entity was not in your favor, as suddenly his boot slammed into your back to shove you once again into the dirt. 
“I’ll make a deal for you, if you can walk away, you’re free to go,” he carelessly bent down as he spoke, slicing into your other ankle in a similar fashion- his camera held tightly in his other hand like he was giddy to take more pictures of you. With a pained grunt, you tried to stand, your legs not responding to any movement you tried to do. Panic rose in your throat as the situation dawned on you- he completely severed your achilles’ tendon and there was no way you were leaving the trial alive. Your expression must’ve mirrored your emotions, as suddenly he took another picture, looking at it before looking back down at you. His knife was stowed away when he suddenly picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder carelessly. 
His grip on you was tight as he walked, his voice low, “I guess you wanted to stay, you were so ecstatic you couldn’t even leave. I’m glad, I think we’ll make a great pair- don’t you?” Panic gripped you like a vice, your breath hitching as the reality dawned on you. He wanted you. That was it. Nobody else mattered, they could leave, they could try to get in the way, but he was hellbent on getting what he wanted. The thought of how many pictures he had of you already made you shudder, yet you couldn’t help the intrusive thoughts of all the ways he could have killed you instead. It would’ve been endearing if not for the wounds you had already sustained. 
The last generator roared to life, the survivors seemingly pleased with the easy trial they had. The exit gates were open almost immediately, and if only they knew how much closer that put you to your prison- your eyes blank as he carried you around the trial. Even if you wanted to wiggle, your legs wouldn’t respond, you wouldn’t be able to stand or walk. You were powerless to him as he carried you closer to the hatch, his pace quickening almost in excitement. There was no hesitation in his movements as he stepped into it, both of you enveloping in darkness. Tears streamed down your face as you realized that the entity’s realm could be much worse- and it was going to be. 
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spectralscathath · 4 years
Text
Remember That I Am Thy Creature
“It was on a dreary night in Atlas that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the teal green eye of the Creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.”
Clover Ebi, Captain of the Ace Ops, is dead. But Tyrian is not one to let an opportunity like this slip by, and Arthur is always one to indulge him.
AO3 link
Tyrian practically skipped along, tail swishing in the air behind him as he reached the end of the hall. He turned to survey his trail of destruction, robots and prison guards turned into an art form of anguish and shreds. He clapped to himself, a giggle bubbling up in his throat as he went back to grab himself a souvenir, blood clinging to the bottom of his boots as he stepped in a sluggishly growing pool of it.
Now, with a new Atlesian military hat perched atop his head, he felt quite fetching. After all, one must look their best when breaking the good doctor out of his prison cell. Oh, how he couldn’t wait to tell him all about how awe-inspiring their goddess’s entrance was, how he had nearly sobbed with glee from the sheer beauty, the power, the magnificence!
Truly, Salem was the only truth in this world, and she would bring Atlas to ruin. He was so blessed to be a servant to a deity such as her, and he had gotten to indulge so much of his bloodlust on this fine night, he hoped that his work setting the stage truly pleased her.
He had never felt such a purity of joy like this as he had on the night his queen came to collect him, when she had chosen him as her reaper, her hand of death in this world of the unworthy. When he had been reborn as her humble servant. He felt he could plunder all mankind, conquer all the odds, just as he had conquered and broken his dear sweet little bird’s heart.
What a marvel it was to be so alive, on such a night like this! He felt he’d live on forever with Salem’s blessings at his back and his blades at his side. It was a truth that no one could deny, that his goddess was here to take Atlas by right of conquest, to show the world that now and forever there was no mere mortal who could dare to oppose her. What a feeling of being alive, while an army of nightmares came to reap what Tyrian had sown.
Well. Him and his dear darling doctor.
Speaking of, he checked the door into the maximum security wing, where all the arrested criminals with activated auras were kept. Aura turned a mere man into a monster, after all! There was no battle a man with aura couldn’t survive. At least… until that pretty little protection was ripped away.
His fingers curled at the thought, licking his lips and teeth as he remembered how lovely it felt to tear away the little lamb’s soul shield. Dear Robyn, leading a lamb to slaughter? Tsk tsk. She was a fascinating target, one he would love to spend a few days with. Such fire and pride in pretty lavender eyes, wouldn’t he love to watch them drown with fear?
He would have to beg his goddess for such a chance later, delighted at the hopes that he could grovel at her feet like the devout beggar he was. Perhaps she could leave those ace operatives alive as well, wouldn’t they make fine prey to hunt. Oh yes, the little dog had shown himself to be the omega of his pack, full of nerves and desperation.
He would be the one Tyrian would leave alive the longest. He’d kill him soon enough, of course, but his time in Mistral had been a period of experimentation, of artistry, and he had found that the knowledge of an impending doom created a tension so thick that he could sink his teeth into it, if he didn’t sink them into his victims.
As for the others… he had very few opinions on Zeki and Bree, though he would definitely make sure their ends were as painful as he could, it wouldn’t be fun otherwise, but the strong Elm Ederne? A Vytal champion, a woman who seemed to pride herself on being as unbowed and unbroken as her namesake?
Oh, how exciting it would be to bring a sweet miss like her to her knees! She and Miss Hill would definitely be worth taking his time with, if he was granted the permission to slaughter them.
He grinned ghoulishly and checked the security door. Ah, fingerprinted, a clever move, but one Tyrian could easily bypass. All he needed was to find the highest-ranked corpse and- yes, there we go. He cut the hand off the man and practically danced towards the door, testing each finger before one beeped and the door unlocked.
He giggled and tossed the hand over his shoulder, doffing his new cap as he slithered in the door, into the hall of all those poor souls in their lonely cells.
He looked in the window set into the first door, seeing naught but a man tossing a ball at the wall, how incredibly boring. However, the next door told him that these cells, despite their windows to the outside, had one-way glass on the doors. What a useful little trick, Atlas, allowing the guards to see in while the prisoners could only see the freedom they had so unwillingly lost.
He stalked along, glancing in each door to look for his dear doctor, before he saw a sight that had him howling, tears of laughter threatening to spill down his cheeks.
Robyn Hill herself, the little bird turned to a prowling beast as she paced the line of her cell, her strides long and proud despite her incarceration. She reminded him of a trapped vixen as she slank back and forth, her lips pulled back from a steel-sharp snarl. He noticed that her tattered scarf trailed behind her, slung low like a fox’s brush, her wrist bare of her wings and arrows.
What a delight it had been, to find out what a pleasant burn they had for himself, the explosion’s taste dancing across his tongue in a memory of copper-ash sparks, tingling behind his teeth like eels writhing in a stream, sending warm shivers down his spine to pool in his gut like venom pooled in his stinger.
He watched her for a moment, the room so soundproofed he could not hear a word of her raving, screaming rant, wondering what tune his sweet songbird was whistling to have her worked up in such a fury, her ponytail having fallen free in her rage to turn into a wild mane that gave her the appearance of a lion, perhaps, untamed and primal and burning with the desire to break her cage.
It was glorious, before the thought struck him, and he felt giddy with the possibility of who might be in the next cell, who could be jailed with his lioness, his songbird, his dashing, vulpine outlaw, who thought she was saving lives when she had instead helped Tyrian end them. Her rally had been child’s play, Clover’s death a wonderful result of her temper, her recklessness, her ego and her chaos. How could he not have capitalised on such a wondrous opportunity to deal a blow to his darling crow’s heart?
He was far from a fool, he had seen the looks the bad omen had shot the leader of the ace operative, how they had worked together to combat Tyrian. From the moment Tyrian had realised how much dear Branwen had cared for the fisherman, the lucky Clover had become his target.
He was so, so glad to have succeeded. The desolation in those pretty red eyes had been beautiful. Anguish became Qrow, it seemed. Tyrian had been more than happy to provide.
His glance into the next cell had his chest swell with pride, at the sight of poor unlucky Qrow. Defeat was clear in the slump of his shoulders, his back to the door as he curled on his bunk, on his side, the tattered cape hanging off the edge and his shoulders like a pair of broken wings. Oh, Tyrian was thrilled to be able to call this man his enemy. Perhaps, even, his nemesis?
Qrow had survived Tyrian’s sting, but his scar still remained, Tyrian knew without needing to see under the man’s new Atlesian plumage. But Tyrian’s venom had coursed through his veins, perhaps linking them in a way deeper than the bond of shared blood.
Qrow was his ultimate prey now. They had a score to settle indeed. Qrow’s scar, his shattered heart, and the mechanical whirring of Tyrian’s tail were only part of the strings that bound their fates together, entwined in battle and blood. They still had a rematch waiting in the wings, after all. Tyrian knew that their next one would end in death.
Patience, Tyrian.
It would be best to let the bird’s wings heal. After all, if he wanted a battle with a true huntsman, he would need to wait for Branwen to be at his full strength, just as before.
The anticipation would make it all the sweeter.
So, with a flick of his tail and a skip in his step, he carried on, hunting for his dear Watts. It was time to get back to work, and Tyrian had an absolutely delightful idea. One he was sure the good doctor would positively adore. After all, they were both predators of a kind, and they worked so well together. Why wouldn’t Arthur dearest indulge him?
Perhaps his goddess would too.
-----
Watts surveyed Salem’s storm from his cell, a dull ache across the entirety of his face and imprinted on his throat a reminder of the absolute beating James had given him. Well. At least he’d left some aches of his own. How was that arm, James? Did it sting?
If only he’d had a doctor around willing to heal it. Such a pity.
Watts would hardly waste his semblance on James, especially not now.
He watched Salem’s storm approaching, amused at the sight of the army of flying Grimm that could easily overcome Atlas’s defences, and the whale she rode on. It seemed Salem had decided that if she was going to leave her realm, she’d bring part of her fortress with her.
He wondered if that meant Hazel and the two brats were there as well. Tyrian would be glad for that, he seemed to positively adore tormenting the youngsters, now that Cinder wasn’t around. Not that it was hard.
Emerald was easy to pick apart, driven by her past where she had nothing, to the point she’d fixated on Cinder as her giver of everything. Food, shelter, comfort. Toss in her passive nature and how much fear controlled her, and it was hardly a wonder that Salem was able to bend the girl to her will as much as she could. To the point of ratting out her saviour to Salem as well, hadn’t that been interesting. He could only assume that the guilt of Emerald’s so-called ‘betrayal’ was festering at her from the inside.
The Black boy, on the other hand, was a much more fascinating cocktail of issues. Chronic Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder was a given, considering his father’s abuse of him, and all his other behavioural issues made him a right little brat. Still, one that was also easily manipulated. For as logical and cold as he claimed to be, he was intensely driven by his emotions. Just like James, in fact.
Now that he cast his mind to it, the tin man and the metal boy really did have quite a lot in common. An interesting little coincidence, nothing really worth pondering about. But still, it was in those strange little asides when he let his mind wander that he tended to find interesting if generally useless information.
Then again, the human brain was designed to see patterns, even when there were none, so perhaps it was less a trivial insight and more his sharp mind falling to base instincts.
The door to his cell opened and his eyes flitted over to it, absorbing and processing all the information in naught but a moment before he picked his words carefully, as always. “A hat, Tyrian? That’s new.”
Tyrian grinned with that sickle smile he loved to wear, yellow eyes bright with his particular brand of madness. Watts never really cast his hand at trying to diagnose Tyrian, even though he probably could. That seemed more like it would remove half the fun the scorpion’s unpredictability brought him.
“Greetings, doctor. Did you miss me, perhaps?” Tyrian placed a hand on his chest, silver tail bobbing behind his shoulders, both poised to strike and simply because Tyrian was most comfortable with his tail held high.
“Of course, Tyrian.” Arthur rose from his seat, unfolding his long legs before he straightened to his full height. He dusted his sleeves off out of sheer habit and adjusted his suit jacket. Hazel could tear his jackets all he wanted but Arthur actually gave a damn about his outfit. Propriety was important, after all. “I would have thought you’d have gone to meet her grace yourself.”
“Without you?” Tyrian feigned hurt and shock, stepping back as though Watts had physically hurt him with his words. “Why, doctor, I am wounded by such an accusation. Of course I will be heading straight to our goddess, but first I wanted to find you. I’ve caused such chaos this fine night, and I have so many ideas for what else can be done. Our work is not yet complete!”
“Very well.” Watts stretched his fingers out of habit, missing his rings. Those had taken so much time to make and now he’d lost both sets. He’d make them again, of course, to not do so would be idiotic, but it was such a hassle. “Tell me all these plans you have while we depart.”
“Oh I will,” Tyrian’s grin returned full force. “But first, I notice your hands look rather bare.”
“A worthwhile sacrifice. I can rebuild.”
“Perhaps.” Tyrian dug a hand into his pocket and opened a fist, a set of four very familiar rings held in his palm. “But imagine to my delight when I found that those weapons of all those they’d confiscated on this night were still being transported to storage.”
Arthur grinned wickedly and proffered a hand, Tyrian bowing deeply before he took it and slipped each ring on himself, humming a jaunty little fourteen-note tune that Watts recognised as one that Tyrian had whistled here and there, the notes rising and falling despite the overall melodic descent.  
Only when each ring had been affixed back in place did Tyrian rise, an eyebrow quirking playfully as he tipped his stolen hat. “I suppose we have the General to thank for the state of your poor face?”
Watts rolled his eyes as he stepped out of his cell, Tyrian gracefully stepping back to allow him passage. Watts rolled his shoulders and offered an arm, Tyrian’s hand slipping through it out as they walked out of the jail. “Indeed. Now what are these ideas you have?”
“Dear Arthur, how do you feel about putting your semblance to good use?” A debauched purr curled around the edges of his words, golden gaze turning heady with excitement. “I have a corpse that I think would make a lovely little puppet for you~”
----
Darkness. That was the first thing he could remember.
For a moment, everything was dark, and silent, and maybe a little cold, but it was painless and peaceful. Scarily peaceful, like if he was here for even one second longer he’d slip away into the void and never come back.
Then his entire world lit up with sheer, overwhelming, unrelenting agony, biting at his skin and burrowing deep until it made itself a home in his bones, pain eating him alive from the inside out.
His chest was freezing, so cold it burnt, and there was fire there too, chewing up his heart and choking his lungs. He thought he was dying, he wished he was dying, but he felt more alive then he’d ever been before.
Somewhere along the line he realised he was screaming, that there was pressure on his neck, right under his jaw, right where people checked for a pulse, and that was the eye of the storm. He could feel it. Right there, that point, everything was numb, and every ounce of the torment was radiating from that one point of contact.
Contact? Yes, it was contact, that was someone’s touch, and he wrenched open his eyes to a lightning storm of harlequin green, so bright it seared itself into his brain.
He scrunched his eyes shut again, trying to raise his hands to cover them but he was restrained. He could feel leather bands holding him down, across his forehead, his wrists, his legs, and his torso. The smell of iron and copper and rust filled his senses, the sickly sweet tang of blood and cold sterility.
He could hear the crackle of electricity, cruel laughter as a backing track to his symphony of hurt. It took a second before he figured out he was talking, saying words, screaming at whoever was doing this to him to hurry up and kill him, let him die, he couldn’t take this he couldn’t it was too much just KILL HIM-
Then something was shoved into his mouth by a gloved hand, a set of intelligent green eyes appearing in his vision, meeting his own confused teal. Those eyes were sparking with the lightning that had wrapped itself around Clover’s form, knitting the gaping wound in his torso back together.
Watts raised a brow and removed his right hand from the leather gag he had shoved between Clover’s teeth, top revent the man from breaking them if his jaw reflex snapped shut as his muscles seized. His fingers crooked and curled like he was manipulating a puppet, infusing a spark of being into the lifeless thing under his hands. Tyrian laughed in the background at the show, Clover’s body strapped to the morgue’s table as he convulsed, reanimated and alive once more.
Clover’s howls were muffled now, certainly, but he still made his best attempt at them.
Watts raised his hands eventually, releasing Clover’s pulse point as he surveyed his work with clinical detachment. Sweat streaked Clover’s brow as he panted for air, fingers flexing and curling as his chest heaved, the scar from Harbinger the shiny red of new skin. He turned his head to the side and spat out the gag, limp on the table as the absence of pain left only exhaustion. His chest felt too cold, like ice was bound around his heart, chilling his breath where it sat in his lungs.
He- no, he had been dead, right? He’d looked at the blood, he’d touched at the wound, he’d known from the second Tyrian had ripped the sword three that he would be dead in minutes. No man could survive that. Even if he hadn’t been severely bleeding out his aura had been broken. The chill of Solitas could kill a man in hours. He’d seen people who’d had frostbite set in within minutes.
So… he had died. He had to have died. This was… what was this?
The sound of footsteps made his pulse skip with fear, restrained and tired as he was, he had no way to fight back. He was helpless here and he hated it. He recognised Watts. He recognised the evil chuckles Callows’ made.
Knuckles brushed against his cheekbone in a mockingly soft gesture and he took a page out of Marrow’s book, snarling like a dog and snapping his teeth at Tyrian’s hand. Marrow had been crap at the intensive interrogation training. Unfortunately, the lady playing the role of ‘questioner’ had found out exactly what happened when an ‘enemy’s hand got too close to a trapped dog faunus’s teeth.
No blood, thanks to aura, but Marrow had been incredibly apologetic about the whole debacle.
Tyrian seemed to find it fucking hilarious though, his sneaky yellow eyes meeting the dregs of defiance in Clover’s gaze as he twiddled his fingers just out of reach. “Naughty, naughty! You shouldn’t peck at your friends, my little kingfisher.”
Clover simply set his jaw and furrowed his brows in a glare he knew was far weaker then what he was normally capable of, refusing to engage verbally with the serial killer.
Tyrian didn’t seem to care, his tail whipping happily behind him, almost like it was wagging, as he turned to face Watts. “Isn’t he fun, doctor?”
“I’m sure he is. I could do without that stubbornness, however. I’d rather he gives us the same blind obedience he gave James.”
“That’s-“ Clover’s baritone cracked and rasped as he tested it, rough and rawed from his earlier ordeal. “Not… Going to happen.”
Watts glanced at him, moustache curving with what had to be a smirk. “Mr Ebi. Do you honestly think that my semblance doesn’t come with the caveat that you owe me your life? You work for me now.” He crooked his fingers in that strange puppeteering gesture again. “Now. Lights out.”
Clover’s eyes barely had time to fill with horror before unconsciousness claimed him entirely.
----
“Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by slight ligaments are we bound to prosperity and ruin.”
--
So Clover getting resurrected is a popular enough idea and one that I like, but I want to put my own spin on it.
Just for clarity's sake, Watts' semblance here is Resurrection and he's able to manipulate the mind and perceptions of those he uses it on, such as planting sleeper commands in them, or switching up who they view as enemies and allies without really changing who they are.
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spaceskam · 5 years
Text
beautiful dreamer
this is in place of rnmweek day 3 because i got so far off topic it’s not even funny. inspired by the original where isabel could go into other people’s dreams.
ao3
“You wouldn’t happen to, like, have a yearbook?” 
Max looked up at Isobel from his place on the couch, raising an eyebrow.
“Why?”
“Because… I need one.”
“Are you going into people’s dreams again?”
“It’s just one night! I haven’t done it since high school! I just wanna see if I still can!”
“Isobel.”
“Look, I can’t sleep and I sleep better after I invade someone else’s mind, is that a crime?”
“I mean… it should be.”
Isobel pursed her lips as she narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms over her chest. He knew damn well she hadn’t been sleeping since Noah, that’s why she was staying at his house in the first place. He didn’t have any interesting pictures of people on the walls, so she had to resort to a yearbook to get her fix. If he forked it over, that is.
“C’mon, Max, please,” she pouted. He stared at her for a while before sighing.
“Fine, just… stay out of mine and Liz’s. And Michael’s because he always knows and throws a fit,” Max complied, standing up and reluctantly going to find their senior yearbook. She took it with gracious, giddy hands. Max looked like he regretted every decision he ever made.
“No problem, will stay out of those people’s dreams.”
Isobel walked back to his guest room, flipping open to a random page as she flopped onto the bed. She kicked the door closed and took in the faces on the page. It was the seniors, all of them dressed in faux cap and gowns, glowing smiles on everyone’s faces with the exception of Alex Manes who just glared into your soul. His senior quote was simply ’They told me cursing wasn’t allowed’. Isobel snorted.
“Well, let’s see what you’re up to in that mind of yours,” Isobel whispered, lowering her gaze as she stroked over the picture of his face. He seemed like a fun target to play with it.
You know, assuming she wasn’t going to be thrust into a violent warzone of a dream. Or an abusive childhood scene. Or literally any number of traumatic things. Maybe she should’ve thought more about this.
However, her head hit the pillow before she had much time to pull back before it started.
She slipped into Alex’s dream with ease, the whole view dark and murky. There was sand beneath her bare feet and stars decorating the sky. She spun around to look for something, someone, but only found a truck a little distance away. Michael’s truck.
Her eyebrows pulled together as she neared it, knowing that Alex wouldn’t notice her no matter what she did. She’d hidden for a while in people’s dreams before she realized that they couldn’t see her if she didn’t want them to. But, still, she was confused about why Michael’s truck was here. Last she heard, Alex was more than angry at her brother. He’d left him for his best friend, they hadn’t spoken in months.
Which made it that much more surprising to find the two men in nothing but their underwear in the back of the truck, both drenched from was she hoped was rain that was no longer falling.  They were breathing hard, their grins overtaking their faces and their pupils were blown and bloodshot to hell as they stared at the sky.
“Well, you’ve outdone yourself this time, Alexander,” Michael laughed his hands going behind his head while Alex turned to look at him with the same dopey smile. Isobel scrunched up her nose.
“Straight Sativa.”
Great, she entered a them-getting-high dream.
“Mmm, you’re a bad influence,” Micahel said, turning to face him. Isobel had to wonder if this was actually a memory and Alex was just imaging them as adults. However, she couldn’t remember Michael ever being high. Then again, she hadn’t been very in control of her own mind in their senior year.
“Says the guy who stole shit from the emporium last week. Yeah, I saw you. Managed to be seen on the one security camera we have. You’re lucky I erased it,” Alex teased. Michael bit on his lip, kicking Alex’s leg softly.
“I’m really lucky my best friend is a computer genius,” Michael said before his smile softened and he grabbed Alex’s hand, “Actually… I’m just really lucky to have you in general.”
And Alex smiled. And Michael leaned in. And Isobel decided she was going to leave because this was boring and she wasn’t really ready to see her brother get plowed.
However, the moment Michael leaned all up into Alex’s space and Alex closed his eyes, Michael vanished. Which was even more confusing than the situation previously happening. Alex seemed to think so too as concern washed over his face, sitting up.
“Michael? Michael?!” he called, looking around in a panic. Then he seemed to focus on something behind Isobel. “Michael!”
In an instant, Alex jumped off the bed of the truck and broke into a full sprint. Isobel barely let herself process it before following him towards a massive building that didn’t look too much unlike a prison. What the fuck?
When she crossed over into the building, Alex was suddenly full clothed again and he was just sprinting, limping just a little bit and seeming to be pushing through as he ran down a flight of stairs. He looked like he was on the verge of tears and it was causing her some extra distress that she didn’t understand. What was she about to oversee?
“Guerin! Guerin, we need to get out of here! That alarm isn’t a fucking suggestion!” Alex screamed as he hit the bottom of the stairs and only then did she hear the siren blaring through the building.  Isobel froze on the third to last step as she took in her surroundings. There were cells lining the walls, all holding a person‒someone like her‒who stood still with their hands against the glass doors as if Alex’s subconscious hadn’t bothered to animate them.
“I’m not going anywhere, Alex! They’re my family!” Michael screamed, grabbing her attention.
Alex looked around in a panic and desperately pulled at his hair.
“Alright, maybe! But you are mine!” Alex shouted back, desperation in his voice and Michael looking at him like he’d lost it. Her heart weighed heavy as she realized this was just a replay of the night Michael avoided talking about. He just said they were in a prison, that he found his mother, that she died. He didn’t talk about it any more than that.
He definitely didn’t talk about this conversation.
“What? No. Get out of here, Alex.”
“I’m not letting you die here!”
“I’m sure as hell not letting you die here, so get out! Go!” Michael shouted, frantically turning towards one specific cell and hitting it a few more times. Alex’s back hit the desk behind him, a type of acceptance forming on his face.
Oh no.
“I don’t look away, Guerin,” Alex said. Michael seemed to freeze in his spot. “I never have, I never will.” Michael turned around, eyes wide and body shaking.
”No,” Michael said, “Go!” His arm thrust Isobel’s way and she felt like she’d had the wind knocked out of her. She fell back on the step, hand over her heart as she tried to steady her breathing.
Oh my god. Oh my god.
“Go! I don’t love you!” Michael shouted and Alex visibly flinched. “We’ve been holding onto this, this thing. Where’s it gotten us? Just-just go. Just let it go. Let it go.”
“You’re a miserable liar.”
Michael’s jaw clenched so hard as the sirens seemed to blare louder, faster. They were running out of time. They needed to go. This wasn’t the time for this.
“I’m not walking away, Michael,” Alex whispered and she somehow heard it. Tears pricked at her own eyes as she breathed even heavier. They needed to get out, what the fuck were they doing? “Not anymore.”
”Alex,” Michael damn near whimpered, taking a wobbly step towards him.
”Get out!” Isobel found herself screaming as if they could hear her, as if she could change it.
And then a handprint pressed to the glass behind them and Michael turned around as if on command. Isobel pressed her hand to her mouth, breathing shakily as she watched him press his hand against it.
Alex watched him patiently as he went into a trance-like state as if they had time to be patient. She put her head in her hands, watching and watching and waiting to see if they get out. Please, get out.
It took a moment and the sirens got louder, but Michael pulled out the trance and immediately fell onto Alex. He pulled him into his arms graciously, supporting his weight as if he hadn’t previously been struggling to support his own. Isobel watched with tears streaming down her face as her brother panted and held onto Alex with a death grip.
“Sh-she’s my- my- my m- my mo-”
“Your mother?” Alex finished, the two of them nodding together as Michael sobbed. Couldn’t they have this conversation when they weren’t about to die? Jesus. “What’d she say?”
“She… she said she loves me.”
Isobel’s heart seemed to burst with pain as she watched Alex actually smile through his teary eyes. She had never felt so weak in her life.
“She said you love me.”
“I do, Michael, you know I do,” Alex gushed right back, holding onto him. Michael nodded, his eyes closing as he relaxed into Alex. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
Isobel’s hands slid into her hair, crying even harder than she wanted to admit as she watched these two idiotic men relax when they were seconds away from dying. They didn’t have time. They just didn’t. She was going to watch her brother explode.
“She also said,” Michael gulped, his hand slipping down to Alex’s and gripping it hard, “to run.”
They both broke into a sprint, running up the steps and straight through her body which inevitably woke her up.
Isobel burst into consciousness with panicked gasps, throwing the yearbook across the room as she scrambled to the head of her bed. She pulled her knees to her chest, steadying her breaths. Were Alex’s dreams always that fucking traumatic? Did he always have to imagine her brother almost dying and them having a dramatic love confession?
Was that actually what happened?
She made a vow to stay out of people’s dreams for the foreseeable future.
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enchantedsugden · 5 years
Text
there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear
ao3 link 
robert doesn't hide his taste in music anymore and instead tries to get his husband to listen to the songs he loves. 
have a fic about robert's love for music and taylor swift.
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He loved it, absolutely loved it. That wonderful giddy feeling that good music gave him present in his whole body. His coffee had gone cold but other than that nothing had changed, he was still in the same position as he was when he pressed play. Robert was on the couch, knees pressed to his chest phone in hand, the Mill still quiet in the relatively early morning, Aaron and Liv both enjoying a lie in after their night of GCSE celebrations yesterday.
  Robert hadn’t been able to get back to sleep after he had first woken up. After watching his husband for a bit he decided to get himself a coffee to take back up. Waiting around for the water to boil he had scrolled on his phone, sighing when he stumbled across an email from Spotify. Making a mental note to put a stop to those emails he was about to click on a different email when something caught his eye.
Taylor Swift. After he had made that one jokey comment to Aaron years ago it was now kind of a running joke. It wasn’t just a joke though, and after years of being with Aaron he made less and less of an effort to hide his music taste. ‘Cheesy teen pop’ his husband would still call it, while said husband would nod to music that Robert would also class as teen pop. And maybe there were some cd’s that technically belonged to him and that were pretty much teen pop scattered around the place but so what? Robert also never managed to forget that Aaron had once called it ‘quite sweet’ which had also become some sort of running joke. Aaron using those words and Robert being called them always something that made them both blush and laugh.
Before Robert’s mind had the time to drift off to thoughts about court, prison, leaving Aaron and his family, the water had boiled and Robert spied whoever’s earphones on the kitchen table. Abandoning the idea of going back to bed he decided to distract himself by actually listening to the album. When he was younger he was always on top of release dates and new music from his favourite artists but nowadays he’d be lucky if he got to listen to new stuff within a week of it coming out. Not that he minded, his life right now one that he absolutely loved but sitting down peacefully to listen to new albums remained one of those things he just loved doing. Because that was his way of doing it, one Aaron didn’t understand. Aaron would listen to new stuff at work, in the car or while clearing up around the house. Robert didn’t, anticipated albums needed appreciation he would explain to a laughing Aaron time and time again whenever he’d announce that he didn’t want to be disturbed.
Settling down he pressed stream now, an almost embarrassing excitement sizzling through him. 
  So he loves it. Resisting the urge to play his favourites again, he pulls out the earphones listening out for any signs of life. There are none either from his husband or Liv which means Robert could even do his next album ritual in peace, another thing his husband liked to mock him lovingly about. Robert loved lyrics, he also loved showing Aaron lyrics that reminded him of his husband or reminded him of them which was probably quite embarrassing but who needed to know? Aaron was the only person he needed to show those words to, the only one who got it although the younger man liked to pretend his husband was just being an annoying romantic, but the soft look in his eyes (after he had rolled them dramatically) told Robert enough.
Aaron was one of those people that claimed not to pay attention to lyrics he just liked the beat. Robert couldn’t understand that to save himself, while also knowing that this wasn’t always the case for his husband. Evidence for this clearly there when Aaron would mumble along to their playlist, and when in a soppy mood would even give Robert quick glances and soft smiles at what the older man liked to refer as relatable lyrics.
After reheating his coffee Robert settles himself down again ready to hit play all over again but this time intending to listen to the lyrics closely.
   The last songs fades away and there’s rustling right next to him. Opening his eyes he’s met with Liv’s confused expression. The younger girl seems to be working out whether there is cause for concern or not.
“Are you alright?” She asks, her expression half amusement half worry.
“What- yeah?” Robert replies, taking out the earphones.
“Were you….crying?”
“I was what- no of course not-“ he wants to say more but suddenly Aaron’s coming down the stairs, eying him up. “He was what?” he says looking in between him and Liv.
“I wasn’t crying” Robert says almost indignant.
“Why are your eyes slightly red then?” Liv counters “or were you sleeping down here?”
Robert refuses to believe he actually cried because he just can’t have done. “I was just listening to music” he gestures vaguely to his phone. To his surprise Liv bursts out laughing at that “please tell me you didn’t-”
“What?” Aaron all but interrupts and now looking more confused than ever.
“Were you listening to Taylor’s new album?”
“You know she has a new one out?” there’s this feeling of almost betrayal that Liv didn’t inform him about this, realising too late what he must sound like.
“Unbelievable” Aaron mutters, walking over to the kitchen clearly leaving his husband and sister to it now it’s registered with him that Robert was crying about bloody teen pop and not something life threatening.
“I can’t believe you listened to it before me” Liv continues “not sure if I still want to listen now I know you’ve related it all to you and Aaron.”
“I have not!”
“Quite sure about that?” Liv laughs “you always get soppy when it comes to love songs.”
“Liv leave him alone” Aaron says in an amused voice shaking his head fondly. If Robert hadn’t felt quite so embarrassed he would have laughed at the domesticity of it all.
“Have you eaten Rob?” Aaron continues probably noticing Robert’s slight embarrassment. He tells him he hasn’t yet and heads over to the kitchen to help his husband with breakfast, not before shoving Liv playfully on the way though.
  During breakfast Robert thinks about the songs that definitely need adding to his and Aaron’s playlist.
  “See ya later. Don’t listen to too much Taylor while working eh?” Aaron grins kissing him on the head, the younger man about to head to the yard.
“Shut up” Robert grins back, glad Liv isn’t here to hear this conversation, the younger girl having gone out for another day of celebrations.
“But you should definitely check on our playlist later, during your break or whatever” he tries.
“Absolutely not.”
  He tries again during lunch, unsuccessfully.
He’s making himself a quick bite to eat when his husband comes through the door.
“Hey, didn’t expect you here for lunch, thought you were busy.”
“Trying to get rid of me already are ya” Aaron grins quickly pecking him on the lips.
“Wouldn’t dare.”
“Nah, I’ve got enough time for a proper lunch hour so I’d thought I’d get home. What I was really hoping for was catching you dancing around the place. I’m bitterly disappointed.”
“As if I would dance on my own eh” Robert laughs before carefully adding “have you listened to the ones I’ve added to our playlist.”
“What do you think.”
“Oh Aaron please- there’s only a few.”
��Too many for me. Make me some of that will ya.”
   Robert knew he could make Aaron listen to the songs he had added to their playlist eventually and the time had finally come. Lying on their bed, earphones in he waited for his husband who was just finishing up in the bathroom. Robert was almost certain that with his guard down Aaron wouldn’t say no to him.
The door opened revealing the younger man now freshly showered, all sleepy smiles and soft hair.
“Hey” Robert smiled, watching Aaron come closer to the bed. “Hey” Aaron said softly, coming to a standstill just before he’s about to climb in “this is where you are gonna make me listen to Taylor Swift innit?”
“Please” Robert grinned knowing he had won.
“Only because I don’t have energy for much else and I can’t take your begging for much longer”
“I didn’t do any begging thank you very much.”
“Sure about that? Well let’s hear it then.”
Suddenly Robert felt almost nervous which was stupid but he couldn’t help it. He shifted closer to Aaron, his head touching the younger man’s shoulder and he handed over one earphone. “Listen properly” he almost demanded and Aaron let out a laugh.
“And I thought you’d be more grateful. Robert I know you remember, you want me to listen to the lyrics I know that.”
“Okay, well then. This first song is a love song.”
Aaron rolled his eyes “I should think so, why else would it be on our playlist, added by Mr. Hopeless Romantic himself.” As a reply Robert could only glance at his husband.
 (Lover)
‘Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever.’
During the chorus Robert looked up at Aaron who met his glance and smiled softly.
“I quite like it” he whispered softly and Robert could practically feel himself lighting up, a beaming smile on his face.
‘I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover.’
Robert couldn’t help watching his husband’s face at this bit. This line in the bridge standing out to him straight away when he listened to the song for the first time.
“You about me innit.” Aaron said, not even looking at Robert but sensing he was staring at him. Robert couldn’t help but laugh at that comment even though it was of course no word of a lie.
‘And you’ll save all your dirtiest jokes for me, and at every table, I’ll save you a seat, lover.’
“I can definitely see why you relate to this song so much. You and your dirty jokes” Aaron grinned.
“It’s about us both- you idiot. And it’s you who’s always saving me a spot at the pub.” Aaron blushed slightly at that before looking at Robert and smiling softly “I guess you’re right, lover.” Robert grinned again, feeling ridiculously happy that his husband was actually enjoying this.
As the song finished Robert said “so one for our next wedding then huh.”
“We need to break up first before we have another wedding.”
“Oi, not necessarily” Robert laughed, looking for the next song he wanted Aaron to hear.
  “Right talking about wedding’s, I really like this song- it’s a happy one.”
“Well yeah that would be nice” Aaron replied sarcastically.
  (Paper Rings)
‘I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings.’
“Did she-“ Aaron started laughing “wow this song really is made for you, you love shiny things.”
“Yeah, but I would have married you with a paper ring if I had to.”
“Hmm- might have been safer and all what with you going back in the water for a bloody ring.” It wasn’t something they talked about often and when they did it was either during a serious conversation or like this, a thrown away comment. Another one of those things that now seemed like almost a lifetime ago.
“I guess” Robert half smiled, lifting his head up so he could look at the other man properly. “I had to though. It seemed right.”
“I know I know” Aaron shushed him, reassuring him that he wasn’t angry about it, wasn’t ever really. Just glad that Robert wasn’t hurt during that romantic but definitely quite (very) stupid gesture.
 ‘I want to drive away with you, I want your complications too, I want your dreary Mondays.’
They listened to the rest of the song in silence. Aaron with a smile on his face, the hand that was resting on his stomach tapping along in time with the beat. When the song finishes Robert looks up at him expectantly. “Yeah liked it, good beat I guess.” Robert nodded happily knowing that was a glowing review from Aaron. “So a good addition to the playlist then?” Aaron couldn’t resist rolling his eyes but he nodded regardless.
 “Right-“ Robert started. “So this is a breakup song.”
“You put a breakup song on the playlist?” Aaron exclaimed.
“Well- yeah. But not all of the songs on there are happy, are they?” He questioned.
“Not sure, hope most are though” Aaron frowned.
“Do listen though. It doesn’t actually sound sad, it’s just the lyrics that are sad.” Robert tried to explain probably rather clumsily.
“C’mon then.”
 (Death By A Thousand Cuts)
‘I get drunk, but it’s not enough. Cause the morning comes and you’re not my baby.’
‘I see you everywhere, the only thing we share is this small town.’
Robert has his eyes on Aaron’s face while listening, but the younger man doesn’t give anything away. Maybe it’s because Aaron doesn’t recognize himself in the lyrics. Robert definitely does.
‘You said it was a great love, one for the ages.’
At this Aaron frowns, looking down at Robert who still has his head on his shoulder. The older man gives him a tiny smile and Aaron mirrors it, a knowing glint to the look in his eyes.
‘Tryna find a part of me that you didn’t touch.’
Robert remembers hearing that line for the first time and the panic that almost clawed at his chest. He couldn’t help think that Aaron might have felt that way back when they were broken up. He looks at Aaron carefully, the movement alerting the other man. Aaron just moves his head a bit so it’s touching Robert’s but he doesn’t say anything yet. When it finishes Robert grabs his phone to stop the next song from playing. “So, what do you think?”
“I get what you mean- it wasn’t sad but it was” Aaron states and Robert nods.
“Shall I take it out of our playlist?” Robert asks.
“No- don’t. I do like it.”
“I do too, just glad I don’t feel like that anymore.” Robert laughs half-heartedly.
“When you used to get drunk a lot.” Aaron says, moving his head slightly so that he can look at Robert.
“Uh yeah, I guess” Robert says, hadn’t really expected Aaron to remember any of the lyrics.
“Does the song remind you of me and Alex?” Aaron asks suddenly and Robert’s eyes widen, a heavy weight suddenly pressing on his chest.
“No-“ he stammers.
“Sorry-“ Aaron says, a sad look on his face. “I didn’t mean to make you upset- sorry.” He was shaking his head and Robert wanted the sad look on his husband’s face to go away.
“I am not upset- it’s fine honestly. Well I mean like I guess it makes me think of all sorts you know? Everything that happened during that time, so also you with someone else but not just that” he tried to explain. It was starting to become a weird conversation but Robert preferred to just keep talking instead of changing the subject. They were so solid and secure now that they always tried to have difficult conversations even if their first instinct told them to change or dismiss the subject.
Aaron nods understandingly “I never tried to get rid of you though, not really. I couldn’t. I never wanted to forget certain memories, things we did, things we loved.”
Robert feels dangerously close to tears. Deep down he had known this, the things Aaron had told him the night they got back together and the days and even weeks after that confirming it for him time and time again.
The way Aaron had once again been able to read him so easily should probably almost scare him but it didn’t, it never would. “I am glad” is all he could say and Aaron smiled at him beautifully, moving his head again so it was touching Robert’s.
 “So is the next song another sad but also not sad one” Aaron said breaking the silence.
Robert shook his head “no, we have had them all.”
“Seriously?! But we’ve only had three songs.”
“I know- there are loads on the actual album but not all appropriate for our playlist.”
“Oh” Aaron almost sounded disappointed and Robert laughed dropping a kiss to Aaron’s shoulder. “You enjoyed our little listening party then?” Aaron didn’t respond seeming lost in thought. “Hey” Robert tried as a way of getting the younger man’s attention.
“Which song made you cry then?”
“I wasn’t crying” Robert tries unsuccessfully, to be honest he’d almost forgotten about being caught by Liv (and Aaron) and had hoped the younger man had forgotten as well.
“I know you were, you always cry at songs and movies, I know you.”
Robert sighed and Aaron added “I am not laughing at you or anything, I just want to know, I am curious.”
“I wasn’t really crying though- it just-“ Robert tried finding the right words.
“Got to you” Aaron filled in for him and he nodded. He picked up his phone stretching his arm over his husband’s stomach.
 When he had properly listened to the lyrics of the song it had shocked him how much it seemed to be about him. How appropriate it had seemed for certain moments in his life, especially those involving Aaron. He didn’t want to end their night on a sad note and with the way Aaron could read him so well he wasn’t sure if he could avoid it.
“Right, here ya go” Robert said burying his face into the crook of Aaron’s neck. He had skipped the song a few times today because even though he loved it, it did bring up memories and thoughts that weren’t all happy and he’d been wanting to avoid feeling upset.
 (Afterglow)
‘I blew things out of proportion, now you’re blue. Put you in jail for something you didn’t do.’
Only a few words into the song, Robert could feel his husband trying to look at him but Robert didn’t move.
‘Chemistry ‘till it blows up, ‘till there’s no us. Why’d I have to break what I love so much? It’s on your face, and I’m to blame. I need to say.’
There was more movement from the younger man but Robert decided to not respond. He let Aaron grab his hand though. Letting him link their fingers together resting their hands on his stomach.
‘Hey, it’s all me, in my head. I’m the one who burned us down. But it’s not what I meant. Sorry that I hurt you. I don’t wanna do, I don’t wanna do this to you. I don’t wanna lose, I don’t wanna lose this with you.’
The chorus spoke to Robert on a different level, his jaw dropping when he heard it for the first time. They were all the words Robert had wanted to say to Aaron, multiple times during their journey to get where they were now. And not just then also now. Because wasn’t it exactly what had happened again. He was facing life in prison, he was about to mess up everything they had known once again. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, he never did. He felt the familiar feeling of self-hatred pulsing through his body, the feeling of his tears building up. He didn’t ever want to ruin things between him and Aaron but why did it sometimes feel like that’s all he did.
‘It’s so excruciating to see you low. Just wanna lift you up and not let you go.’
Wasn’t that always the truth when it came to Aaron. It’s why Aaron still believes Robert will probably only go down for a year. The truth will kill Aaron and he wants to postpone it for as long as he possible can even though he knows the younger man won’t thank him for it.
“Rob you awake?” Aaron mutters, untangling their hands so he can touch his shoulder gently.
“Yeah” Robert responds, lifting his head up to see Aaron who’s smiling down at him softly. He shifts so they are now just laying next to each other.
“Robert, if you think that song is about you, you’re wrong. It’s about both of us.”
“You always do that” Robert says knowing what Aaron means. The younger man always ready to defend Robert against his own mind. How many times had he told Robert that the reason they didn’t work out all the times before wasn’t just on him.
“Because I am right” Aaron counters, smiling. “But I will tell you every day if I have to. We both made mistakes and we will continue to do so in the future god knows, but you know as well as I do that we are already so much better than we ever were. We’re a team. As long as we share stuff and communicate it’s going to be okay. In all seriousness Robert, you know I hate to think that you still carry all that blame. We’re amazing now let’s enjoy it yeah? We deserve it.”
Robert nodded trying to swallow away the lump that had formed in his throat during his husband’s little speech. Reassuring words from Aaron were always able to make him feel safe and secure but now it also made his guilt almost unbearable. But he can’t tell him, can’t wipe away the soft smile on his husband’s face, the way his eyes are watching him expectantly.  
“I love you so so much” is what Robert tells him instead.
“I love you more” Aarons says lifting himself up to drop a kiss to his forehead, nose and finally his lips. Robert sighs letting himself sink into this content feeling completely. We’re amazing now let’s enjoy it his husband had said and he was going to bury himself in all the happy moments they were still going to have. He lifts himself up to return the favour, grabbing Aaron’s face and kissing him deeply.
 They lay there like that for a while, just enjoying the silence.
Robert grins, a question forming on his lips “shall we listen again?”
“You better be joking. I just want to sleep now.”
Robert laughs fondly “but you know where to find them.”
“Mhh” Aaron mumbles sleepily.
  And If Robert catches his husband listening to some of their news songs tomorrow nobody else would have to know.
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tarisilmarwen · 5 years
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Tari’s Top Twenty OTPs - #11
OTP: Kirito/Asuna
Fandom: Sword Art Online
Kirito: Before getting trapped in Kayaba Akihiko's death game, Kirito (real name Kazuto Kirigaya) was one of the beta testers of Sword Art Online.  He is a bit of an awkward anti-social loner, having immersed most of his life prior to SAO in computers and gaming.  He puts up a cocky abrasive front but underneath that facade he's actually very kind and noble-natured, frequently helping out the less fortunate or those in trouble.  Making friends comes slowly, but he's loyal and protective to a fault once you've wormed your way into his heart. Kirito has a lot of guilt and trauma associated with his experiences in SAO, especially the death of the Black Cats Guild, which he blames himself for.  For the most part he internalizes his feelings and isolates himself as kind of a buffer against further pain.  But hero that he is, Kirito just can't help but let himself get attached to people.  When he relaxes, he's a calm and snarky sort of jokester. He is also highly skilled and a determined fighter.
Asuna: Born into a privileged family, Asuna had a lot of pressure on her to succeed both academically and socially.  She fell into the game by complete accident and at first was paralyzed by fear and near-suicidal, getting into dangerous fights by herself.  As she grew accustomed to the game she became more confident and skilled, though also colder and more harsh, but no less driven to push for success at all costs, desperate as she was to escape the game world and get back to reality.  Through Kirito's influence, however, she started to realize her time in the game world held value too, and began to relax and become a softer, sweeter girl.  Asuna is pushy and belligerent, prone to typical tsundere antics and ruthless in a fight. Nevertheless she also cares about the well-being of her friends and people in general, and does her part to clear the game and free them. Asuna takes pride in her cooking, and has a strong maternal instinct.  She's gentle and understanding around the people she cares about and has a lot of compassion and empathy.
Together: Kirito and Asuna influence each other in positive, healthy ways.  Kirito's ability to live and thrive despite being trapped in the game gives Asuna a new perspective on her circumstances—her nightmares go away and she starts to be content and happier.  Asuna gives the often listless Kirito something new to fight for, something to protect, a way to redeem himself for his past failures and a companion who comforts and encourages him when he's down on himself.  They make for a strong team, both on and off the battlefield.  It didn't take long after they officially befriended each other for them to start mutually caring and worrying about each other's wellfare, ultimately culminating in them starting a relationship in-game that would later translate into the real world.  Despite the many (many!) other girls competing for his attention, Kirito remains ever-loyal to Asuna. She's the only one for him, and there's no one else she'd rather have at her side.
How I Got Into The Fandom: My friend recced the show to me and we sat down one day and watched the first couple of episodes.  I watched the rest of the series on my own later, plowing through in about a week or two.  Then I devoured the novels.  And the manga.  I still occasionally rewatch my favorite episodes.
When I Started Shipping Them: I had a feeling we were meeting the love interest the moment Kirito and Asuna had to party up for the boss fight.  When Kirito shared his cream with her and Asuna confided in him her desire not to lose to the game, I was touched.  When they got to be Battle Couple later in the episode I was giddy.  And then when Asuna’s cloak came off and Kirito gazed at her in awe as she pert-near sparkled I knew he—and I—were both goners.  My love for them could only increase exponentially from there.
Why I Love Them: THEY’RE ALMOST EVEN MORE PERFECT THAN ROB/STAR?!  With the added bonus that they actually get together halfway through the series.  And then they get married.  By the end of the same episode.  By episode ten.  And then they adopt a cute little girl AI as their daughter the next episode.  And you would not believe how amazing that feels, given my aforementioned annoyance with long, drawn-out UST that never ever resolves.  As if giving me all the relationship dynamics I love in fictional couples wasn’t enough, this show seriously goes overboard in spoiling me with shippy interaction between Kirito and Asuna.  They are constantly holding hands and cuddling and touching each other’s faces and embracing each other and it is glorious.
Three Favorite Moments:
1. Running the gauntlet in the World Tree.
Oh holy stars in heaven.
Asuna might not be physically there with Kirito as he’s desperately, madly battling endless waves upon waves of Guardians blocking his way to her, but her presence is all over this scene. She is forefront on Kirito’s mind.  Nothing else matters except getting to her.  Kirito becomes almost crazed with battle lust, furiously and recklessly pounding into Guardian after Guardian, trying to reach the door at the top so he can find Asuna.  So he can save her.  So he can return her to the real world.  So they can finally meet in person. 
As his grip slips, he flashes back to precious moments with her.  To her face.  Her smile.  Her gentle touch.  And then he just begins chanting her name like a prayer. Asuna, Asuna, Asuna over and over again and then THE WAY HIS VOICE JUST STARTS TO CRACK TOWARDS THE END AS HE REACHES A HAND OUT TOWARDS THE DOOR.
He is so in love with her and being separated and kept from her hurts.
2. "I finally got to meet you.”
Kirito makes his way up to Asuna’s hospital room, having saved her from her prison in Alfheim Online and beaten the asshole responsible for imprisoning her.
And this time she’s not deep asleep and unreachable.  This time she’s awake, and sitting upright.
She sees him and smiles, and reaches out for his hand.  They embrace softly.  Asuna touches the cut on his cheek from when Sugou attacked him in the parking lot, and Kirito takes a moment to cry in relief that their ordeal is finally, finally over.
Both of them compose themselves, separate, and politely introduce each other.
“I’m Yuuki Asuna.  I’m back, Kirito!”
“I’m Kirigaya Kazuto.  Welcome back, Asuna.”
And then they share their first kiss in the real world, their hands entwining, reunited at last.
3. Finishing off the final boss in Ordinal Scale.
Okay yes, look, it is completely gratuitous fanpandering but!
Kirito and Asuna battle tag-teaming the Incarnation together.
Everyone else making a way for their final approach.  Asuna letting loose with the twelve-hit combo Mother's Rosario.  And then Kirito following up with his signature sixteen-hit Starburst Stream.  Awesome.
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blankdblank · 5 years
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Prisoner Pt 5
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Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 -
Made up a couple names of a couple of the races for the enemies.
Tags –
All –
@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars
Prisoner (Ronan x OC) - @sherala007, @ladylouoflothlorien
...
Again Ronan was taken from your side leaving him irritated towards what scheme Nebula had triggered this time. Though upon further inspection he eyed the oncoming Lreng Ship furrowing his brows as the Kree warriors in the command room readying behind their stations for his orders as the ship split into seven in their attempt to take on a mighty Kree vessel. In your room still laying back on your bed your eyes left the book you were reading in the sharp tilt of the ship waking you sigh as the inner walls of your room shifted rotating to remain upright as did the other rooms with any life forms inside of them. Shaking your head you rolled onto your stomach focusing on your book again for the hour long skirmish that grew when the small fleet of Lreng ships had come to join their fallen kin in their quest for victory against their foolishly chosen target. The battle ended with the last page of your book and the ship stabilized again freeing you to set the book aside and ease out of bed, across the room and into the hall.
Right as the door to the command room opened Ronan’s darkened eyes fell onto you. First the thrill of his victory had led to his imagined reactions to your learning of their clear victory and then the actual surge of lust coursing through his body when your eyes scanned over him in his place on his command chair. Whether it be from his victorious grin or from hearing of the battle from his men there was something about seeing him here that drew that response from you that you were trying to mask. Crossing the room his eyes sank to your hands seeing the two glasses there instantly urging his men to avert their gaze to hide their knowing grins at what they took as the possible first step to you ordering Ronan back to your room for breeding in the wake of his proof of his superior mastering of the skirmish.
Firmly his hand folded around your offered cup brushing his fingers along yours to do so, his eyes lowered to the familiar mixture making you state, “Glass of Roob.” The hopes of his men and him dashed at the choice of drink not having more of a bite to it until you stated, “I would have ordered something stronger, but the cooks only speak Kreeish.”
With a grin he raised his glass as you raised your glass of Gref for a sip, “Thank you.”
“You heard of our victory?”
“Well when my room stopped spinning I did notice the ship seemed to still be intact and filled with what I take as cheers, though again, Kreeish.” He nodded, “Well done by the way.”
In a lick of his lips he leaned forward asking with a hint of a growl in his voice hoping to coerce some more intimate attention from you asking, “Any more locations you require?”
Your conversation ended when the door opened revealing Korath, Gamora and Nebula, the latter who stated, “Thanos is calling for you Ronan.”
A grin eased across your lips as Nebula walked to his side then caught your eye asking, “Your message on death?”
Ronan smirked as you claimed his glass repeating your former message to him, “Death is coming.” She nodded and your eyes turned to Ronan stating, “If he asks, tell him it’s on Morag.” A glint of something flashed in his eyes as you stepped back while Gamora and Korath stood where you had been, taking another sip of your drink you watched their eyes glaze over to a silver as they were transferred mentally to the floating rock Thanos’ throne was hovering on.
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“You call me boy?!” Ronan’s growl echoed out into the nothingness behind Thanos in his stroll over to the Kree Warrior, who felt your mild meld with his completely after his killing the henchman at Thanos’ side formerly. Before Thanos could say anything Nebula stated plainly, “We received a message on the ship.” His eyes shifted to her, “It simply stated, ‘Tell Thanos Death is coming’.”
Whatever they had expected was wrong at the pure fear flooding into the purple giant’s eyes in his stagger backwards for five steps before he turned shouting out to the now grinning Kree Warrior as Thanos stated, “Your ship has been compromised. You are freed from our contract.”
Flatly Ronan replied, “I was tasked to find this orb and find it I shall. Morag is not far after all.” The four of them felt Thanos turning to them in shock repeating, “Morag?!” With the blink of an eye they were back on the ship looking over at you and your giddy giggle offering Ronan his drink again.
In a glance at Nebula you bounced on your toes stating, “Well worth the message.”
A grin eased on her face at your pleasure at her following your task granting her some ground in the matter of gaining your respect again. Through another sip of your drink you locked eyes with Ronan, who asked, “I take it we are headed to Morag?”
You nodded, “Yes, and we can make a stop at Asgard along the way.” In a turn to leave the room you heard Ronan shift in hopes of following you only to settle again at the Kreeish Ambassador’s call. That call lasted hours, long enough for him to find you standing in the doorway of the mess hall eyeing the new array of food from afar that you were unable to name. Gamora beside you halted eyeing your stare and asked, “Is something wrong?”
“I have no idea what any of that food is.”
A grin eased onto her lips in her glance back seeing Ronan in his approach, turning her head she continued on into the line with you after her at Ronan’s hand guiding you closer. The new spread of food was acquired and eaten before a final round of checks were left on Ronan’s to do list as you went to get more sleep. Leaving your jeans and sneakers aside you eased into your bed and closed your eyes and sank into the mattress hoping to fall asleep soon over the noise of the Kree passing by your door.
.
Alone after stripping to another pair of sleeping pants Ronan sighed and turned away from his blood pit for his path to your room, you had again promised some form of intimacy with him and if you were in bed he hoped to take advantage of a chance to hold you again. A tap on the knot along the wall opened your door letting in a stream of light that fell on your bed. Across the room he walked and stopped beside your bed wondering at the muddled emotions he was feeling from you only to snap his eyes up to your face again when you mumbled, “Are you just going to stand there all night? Or is this one of those confirming I haven’t snuck away moments?”
Flatly he replied, “I do not understand your question.”
With a sigh you shifted onto your back peering up at his shadow encased figure, “If you are going to check on me in the night you might as well stay here.”
His eyes moved over the bed and he asked, “Where should I sleep?”
“Where would you like to sleep?” His silence at your question and the great number of locations and positions to choose from made you sit up and reach out blindly finding his wrist and giving it a tug to the bed to sit in the spot where you brushed the covers back for him. “Just get in bed or it’ll be morning before you decide.”
The mattress sank as he sat on the bed and eased his legs under the covers swallowing dryly as he pulled the covers up over his lap, a turn of his head later he watched you settle onto your back covering yourself again. A few moments he simply sat there taking in your peaceful features, at the drain of his energy from the battle earlier he sunk back onto his back then glanced at you when you said, “Did you know you purr in your sleep?”
“I do not purr. Our bodies resonate at a deep frequency when we sleep.”
“Mhmm.” He raised a brow and rolled onto his side, “Kind of like purring.”
A sharp exhale later his arm extended and he pulled you closer to his chest leaving his arm across your middle settling his head on the pillow above your shoulder repeating, “I do not purr.” Making you giggle softly shifting your left leg to ease over his opening his eyes as it tugged his right between yours making his heart beat spike at the new tangled position. Again his eyes shut and he eased his arm under your back resting it around your side until his hand timidly stretched out against your bare upper thigh just below your hip while his other hand stretched up under your brushed up tank top.
Biting your lip you closed your eyes again trying not to laugh as the giant snuggle buddy silently claiming what possessive hold he could manage over you in his sleep started to purr contently in his deep slumber. Sleep eventually found you and it was not too surprisingly filled with dreams of you on a space ship filled with giant blue cats taking over each planet collecting the boxes they felt were so rightfully theirs. Morning came with your waking to his hand shifting from your stomach along your thigh in a slow steady inspecting grip feeling for himself the sturdy muscles your slender form dwarfed by his held. The response to his touch hit him at once urging him to shift his head in claiming a kiss from you, an alarm sounded however jolting his head towards the door, an irritated sigh left him as he shifted onto his back and sat up.
His head turned back to you as you sighed through your roll onto your side facing him, “Go give ‘em hell Ro.” A smirk eased onto his face through his rise and chuckle taking the walk to the door adjusting the pulsing muscle bearing his obvious response to feeling your clear welcoming response to his touch.
“I will have your breakfast sent in.”
Fully dressed after a stop in his room he entered his command room eyeing his chair while the memory of your response to it leaving him wondering just what was so appealing of his chair, at least until the thought occurred it was him inside the chair that you found appealing. Through him a surge of pride washed over him easing a smirk onto his lips at the thought of his Keeper finding his strength and place as a commander of a Kree war vessel alluring. Settled back into his seat he faced the screen as the message they had received played again.
.
Breakfast did come and after another heated dream trip with Loki your eyes opened to the mattress shifting again. A floating tray held your breakfast between you and Ronan, each bit you caught his darkened gaze traveling lower to your legs hungrily taking in you every curve until Korath arrived stating in the doorway, “Ronan, we have arrived at the edge of Asguardian borders.” A giggle from you signaled his departure when he spotted your bare legs swinging to the end of the bed from behind Ronan’s large frame.
Onto your feet you hopped and claimed your jeans again hopping into them a leg at a time then went into the bath to touch up your makeup with Ronan right behind you. Peering into the mirror you asked him, “How did your message go?”
Partially distracted by your adding more lip stain to your lips after brushing your teeth he answered, “A woman named Sif advised me to move out of this location.”
You nodded, “Let me guess you responded with a ‘you move’?” A grin eased onto your lips making his brow rise.
“When you and I land on the surface the ship will shift twelve clicks out of reach of their towers.”
You nodded and then eased your hand along his middle lowering his gaze to follow it as you moved past him to add your sneakers. Fully dressed you turned to find him directly behind you holding up your flannel for you with an all together puzzling expression on his face. Easing the flannel on your mind linked with the bifrost and you zapped the both of you through it and guided Ronan down the golden steps passing Heimdall, who bowed his head stating, “Princess Jaqiearae.”
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In a turn you grinned at him saying, “Easy there on the Princess part Heimdall.”
He chuckled lowly asking, “Or should I say Queen?” You raised a brow, “You and I both know that is not Odin on the throne.”
“That obvious?”
He chuckled strolling with you to the entrance, “Have you read the play he has our troupe rehearsing?”
You rolled your eyes, “He actually gave them that?”
He nodded then asked, “Any sings of our Odin?”
You shook your head, “Wherever he is he does not want me to find him.”
A grin eased across his lips and he glanced at Ronan watching your conversation intently, “Either way, fate will reveal itself to us in time.”
You nodded and guided your warrior across the rainbow bridge and tapped his arm with yours, “This should not take long.”
With a soft gaze he turned his head to you, “Take all the time you require.”
Gently his hand folded around yours as you neared the end of the bridge and began to pass through the city drawing the eye and head bows of each Asguardian along the way until you finally stood in front of the throne. There Loki posing as Odin rose making Sif roll her eyes after referring to him as his pretend persona. She stole a second glance at Ronan, who refused to meet her eye, a typical behavior of a kept Kree, and keep hold of your hand in her exiting the room. At the base of the stairs you peered up at Loki saying, “They know it’s you.”
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A sigh came from him dropping the illusion, “I know, it is so tiring pretending to be so stubborn and slow minded to change. I am thinking of dropping the illusion.”
“The play really negates the need for it, Odin would not sanction that emotional of a personal tale.”
Loki chuckled, “True, Dearest.” Leaning in he cupped your cheek claiming a kiss then turned his head to Ronan and nodded his head respectfully, “Ronan, you have been taking good care of your Keeper I see.”
Ronan nodded, “I will ensure there is no want for anything.”
Loki grinned then turned his eyes to you motioning to his side, “Shall we?” You nodded and joined him eyeing his fur lined cape before turning your attention to the path ahead, “I see Heimdall did not give you too much trouble for tapping into the bifrost.”
You giggled responding, “Heimdall loves me, he could never give me trouble.”
Loki peered over your head at Ronan catching his glance at you in response to your comment on Heimdall, “Figure of speech.”
Ronan nodded assured it was just the pair of them claiming any portion of your affections then said, “Why would he not hold affection for his Queen. If the Kree had such a leader she would hold our affections as well.”
Loki nodded again, “I do not doubt that.” Guiding you through the double doors down into the store room of Odin’s treasures from battle where he grinned lifting his former scepter he flipped and offered to you handle first, “Your scepter, my Love.” You giggled and eased it into an enchanted holster tucked in your belt then continued on to the tesseract that Loki gladly raised and set in your palm and watched the seams in it glow. A snap was heard as the circles and odd corner pieces separated revealing a game piece that landed in your palm before the tesseract case sealed again allowing Loki to set it back down asking, “Morag next?”
“Yes.”
Loki chuckled, “What I wouldn’t give to see the fear in his eyes giving him your message.” He paused seeing Ronan’s smirk in the corner of his eye then he turned guiding you back out again, “Please do tell me when you run into the Nifiri again, I have a new pair of daggers that could use some dulling.” Making you giggle then accept his next kiss before he met Ronan’s eye saying, “Enjoy your hunting, my first set of travels with Jaqi here were, life changing, to say the least.” He turned to leave after another loving glance at you and you popped back to the ship again in the command center.
Around you the Kree eased seeing the successful trip freeing their commander back again making them turn for the long flight towards Morag while Ronan eyed Korath, Nebula and Gamora on their approach. The three of them eager to see how you would handle whoever Thanos sent ahead of them. A snap of your fingers later you were on the rocky surface of Morag where Nebula eyed it curiously before stating, “This is where you sent me.”
You nodded, “Yes.”
Korath tilted his head then asked, “Why would anyone choose to live here?”
With a grin you replied, “You should have seen it back in its prime.”
Korath looked at you asking, “You lived here?”
You grinned at him, “Welcome to my nursery.” You guided them around a set of rough rocks and towards the temple ahead.
Gamora, “Nursery? I heard the planet was eviscerated in a global heat wave.”
You giggled then stated, “That heat wave was my birth.” The trio glanced at you as you giggled again passing through the doorway ignoring the distant sound of ships landing on the surface drawing the eye of Ronan and Korath making them draw their weapons.
Gamora eyed them as Nebula drew her dagger stating, “Ships.”
You nodded hopping up a set of steps, “Mhmm.”
Nebula joined the others at the door while you walked around the alter through to the hallway behind it to the end of the hall humming to yourself a song the attendants used to sing when they cleaned the case your body was held in. A few secret dials were turned with a finger in a rhythmic tapping pattern along to the tune and a secret hatch opened revealing the orb. It fit perfectly in your hand at gave off a faint purple glow as you closed the hatch and turned to spot a massive Chitauri in front of you tilting its head in a low growl making you grin. “I was hoping he’d send you.”
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Inhaling sharply you darted towards the wall swiping your hand between you and the looming figures now gasping for air as their veins flashed a bright purple in their fall to their knees. Against the wall your foot fell allowing you to leap past the group now falling lifeless to the ground as you absorbed their life forces leaving them withering to dust. Back into the main hall you slid to a stop spotting Ronan at the other end of the hall with an analyzing gaze trying to find the best path to you. His processing was not needed as you darted through the sea of Chitauri pouring into the hall trying to take you all. Each move was carefully planned avoiding their chances on claiming the orb from you between your precise blows and stabs from a hidden dagger Loki had slipped you. Blow by blow the Chitauri fell but did not wane in numbers, still pouring into the hall.
Wetting your lips you said, “Ro, pick a place.” His eyes darted to you when you took the head off another one then ducked behind Korath’s back, “Anywhere.” A split from the orb was covered by the sounds of battle, and you tilted your head back allowing the glowing orb into your mouth then you snapped the orb together again and hurled it into the distance.
Ronan watched their heads turn and his hand landed on your hip saying, “Now” as soon as he spotted their heads all turn. One of them raised the orb in a successful cheer and your group looked to you when their eyes and veins glowed purple in their drop to their knees triggering a sea of ash stemming back to their disintegrating ships in your steady inhale powering your next zap away.
.
In the center of another planet you turned in a half circle eyeing the bustling courtyard of the planet you landed on. Turning your head you peered up at Ronan in his shielded form at his mental request for you to do so when he sent you here. Beside him after looking his commander over Korath asked, “Xandar?”
You softly giggled brushing your hair behind your ear ignoring the curious stares of passing people while Ronan lowly asked you, “You threw them the orb?” His question of you sacrificing the goal of your trip was answered as your lips parted for a full toothed smile exposing a faint purple glow behind your teeth bringing a smirk to his lips that dropped at the outcry of, “You!”
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Across the courtyard you spotted the group of Nifiri after you absorbed the energy of the piece in your body, then said, “We have to go.”
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Ronan glanced at you then darted after you when your hand locked on his with the trio behind you as the Nifiri drew weapons and started firing through the crowds at you. Behind a statue you darted away leading them through a series of turns until you slammed into a leather clad stranger and his blue mowhawked friend and rolled across the cobbled path. The duo stared at you waiting for an apology until the first of the shots flew above your heads, on his stomach the blue man asked, “Friends of yours?”
Meeting his eye, softly you mumbled, “Not exactly. Sorry” then darted to the next hall with the confused pair after you.
In the courtyard you were racing to as the Xandarians sent out their drones to capture the Nifiri, Rocket tapped his finger on the screen strapped to his arm as the tree creature beside him saying, “I am Groot.”
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Rocket lowly replied, “Liar! All I know is when we get this payday bitch better have my money! No more IOU’s!”
In a series of tunnels and coves you paused then you motioned to hide sending you all off in pairs, with Ronan still gripping your hand as you eyed the small dip behind a pillar and mumbled, “Hold me up.”
His head turned to you seeing your leap up onto the wall turning to face Ronan, who you tugged closer to you, still seeing he’d stick out you folded your arms around his neck planting your lips on his. The contact instantly making him fold around you fully melting up against the wall out of sight of the passing crowd of Nifiri. Hungrily his lips worked against yours savoring the scorching wave of passion coursing through him through his lips meeting yours for a last lingering moment. In the silence of the hall he eased you down and stepped back catching sight of the others exiting their hiding places.
Wetting his lips the man in leather motioned his hands at his sides asking, “Any explanation?”
“It’s not really important.”
He raised a brow, “Not important? We just had to run for our lives cuz you and,” he looked Ronan up and down saying, “Papa Smurf here pissed off those guys.”
Ronan glared at him saying, “I am not called Papa Smurf!”
The man responded with, “I’m sorry, would you prefer Big Papa?”
Ronan’s lips parted only to shut as the blue man swatted his friend’s arm saying with a grin to you, “My apologies for my son here.”
The man rolled his eyes, “You are not my father.”
You giggled mumbling, “They are so your child.”
Making the man scoff at you while his father said, “See, he’s got my eyes.”
He scoffed again, “We are not related!”
His father rolled his eyes offering you his hand, “Yondu Utanda, and this is my boy Peter Quill.”
Peter, “I am not your son!”
You giggled again shaking his hand, “Jaqi Pear,” you nodded your head to each in your group, “Marshmallow, Korath, Gamora and Nebula.”
Peter grinned up at Ronan repeating, “Marshmallow?”
Ronan growled leaning in with hammer raised making him step back, “Only my Keeper calls me that.”
Yondu mouthed the word Keeper then turned to you when you tugged Ronan back to your side by your locked hands saying, “We should go.” The pair nodded and watched you leave out into another courtyard after checking if the coast was clear.
Behind you Peter called out after their quiet conference, “Hey wait up!”
Out in the open Rocket again eyed his now beeping screen on his arm and grinned as Peter’s face popped up on his arm, “Ha! Found one! Time to go fishing.” In a path to line up Rocket glanced up at him only to say, “Quit staring! They’ll notice us!” Then ducked behind a planter assembling the net gun as Groot hit behind a fountain.
.
Behind you the pair entered the open space as Peter asked, “You’re really not going to tell us who those guys were?”
You shook your hear readying to say something until a net flew towards you making Ronan grip you in his arms and rush for a bench nearby with Korath, Gamora and Nebula behind you as Peter was jerked away by Yondu. In a tilt of your head under Ronan you called out to Peter, “You know who that is?”
He shook his head calling back, “Not a clue.”
Yondu locked eyes with you, “Need a lift?”
A turn of your head brought the Nifiri into view again making you mumble, “Damnit.” On your feet again you followed the pair as Yondu called out the location of their ship, a swipe of your hand took down two of the Nifiri after one shot at you singing your shoulder.
In a turn you skidded to a halt as their leader called out, “You will find justice murderer!”
You huffed as Peter turned to ask you, “You killed someone? You’re far too gorgeous to be an outlaw.” Ronan glared at him when he reached out to brush your hair behind your shoulder only to have it swatted away by Ronan.
“It, I,” you turned your head at the next shot fired, “I warned your Brother!”
In their race to you Ronan raised his hammer ready to charge at them just as Korath did while their leader called back, “You and your Bowie are going to die for this!”
Your brows dropped as Peter asked, “Did he say Bowie?” he turned his head to you asking, “David Bowie?!”
You nodded, “Ya, sort of a long story.”
Peter pointed a finger at him, “Don’t you dare touch Bowie! He is a national treasure!” His words died as he was trapped in a net flying off behind you.
The Nefiri leader called back with a chortle, “We have your Bowie and you will never find him!”
Around you Xandar drones appeared and Yondu tapped your shoulder, “Ship’s that way.”
In a glance at Peter being taken by groot you asked, “But, peter-..”
Yondu shook his head, “I know where he’s going.”
Peter shouted out, “Go! Go save Bowie!”
Swing after swing Ronan and Korath swatted the drones away from your group but not until Gamora got caught making you turn to her only to catch her motioning you ahead to keep going. Turning again you rushed after Yondu as Rocket and Groot were snapped up as well as you raced across the courtyard making sure to mentally lock onto the Nifiri’s minds draining them of the locations of their hideouts and base planets finding the one where Bowie had been taken.
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.
In the Ravagers’ ship you eyed the crew staring you down while Yondu raced to the pilot’s seat as one of them shouted out, “Where’s pete?”
Firmly Ronan gripped you moving you to the row of benches along the wall where he held you on his lap, Korath and Nebula followed you to for the evasive path to freedom from the Xandarian border. Softly as the crew were filled in you asked Ronan, “Why did you pick Xandar?”
In a shy grin he responded, “They would never assume to find me there.”
You nodded, “Hmm.”
That word made him smirk then ask, “Why did you kill his brother?”
“He took a friend of mine. There are people on earth considered national treasures, mainly for their talents, not being actual treasures.” Ronan nodded, “He took one of them. I told him to return them, he refused.”
Korath turned to ask you, “Just how far are we traveling with these creatures?”
Yondu entered the area finding you still seated on Ronan’s lap to say, “We should be at Kyln within a couple hours and we can get our people back.”
Easing back against Ronan’s chest you felt his hands settle around your middle you eyed one of the crew members as he asked you with a grin, “How’d a pretty little thing like you get lumped in with us?”
You blinked up at him only to turn your head to Yondu as he asked, “That Nifiri said Bowie, Peter had a tape with music form a guy named Bowie, that the guy?”
You nodded, “Yes.” You wet your lips then asked him, “If he says you’re not his father how do you and Peter know each other?”
One of the crew members said, “Oh petey, we got hired nearly 30 years back by his daddy to bring him to him, but he’d just have killed the boy.”
Your brows furrowed curiously, “Who’s his dad?”
Yondu, “Some psychotic asshole bent on eating his own young.”
You nodded, “Met a few of those. Even related to one.” Making Nebula and Korath look at you while Ronan rested his chin on your shoulder silently sending a message back to his ship to meet you at Kyln with a receiver he eased out of his shielded pocket.
..
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Bedtime call came around in Kyln Prison and sleeplessly Peter sat up staring at the ground until a set of shouts rang out through the prison. Distantly at the front entrance Yondu followed after you a bit stunned at your steady pace through the prison ship motioning the scepter towards any obstructing your path only making their eyes glow a bright blue as they sat down quietly. Hall by hall you led the group until you passed in front of Peter’s cell. With his lips parted he grinned hugging Yondu as he pocketed the walkman he had collected along the way for him. Across the way you eyed Gamora being drug by a group to a back shower making you grip your scepter tighter and quicken your step while Ronan let out a low growling breath taking longer strides to remain at your side.
At the sight of Korath another man coated in pink raised markings across his skin followed after you. In the locker an explosion of pale blue light sent the men gripping Gamora into the walls making her fall onto her knees. Turning her head she let out a relieved breath when you grinned and said, “You really thought we’d leave you here?”
On her feet she moved to Korath’s side and you turned spotting Rocket and Groot in the corner as Rocket said, “Hey! If you’re leaving we’re going with you! You lot are why we’re here anyways!”
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In the doorway the shirtless man with pink etchings pointed at Gamora saying, “That woman is not leaving this prison.”
He charged for her only to stop at your glowing scepter aimed at his chest, “You will not hurt my friend. I don’t have that many and I prefer them intact.”
Gamora’s lips parted at your title for her before the man said, “That woman belongs to Thanos and Ronan the Accuser, he killed my family, it is only fitting I kill one of his!”
Gamora stated, “I do not belong to Thanos or Ronan.”
He retorted, “Your words mean nothing to me woman!”
You called out, “Hey! We’re talking, talk to me.” He let out a low growling breath while your free hand rested on Ronan’s middle behind you in an attempt to keep him in place, “What’s your name?”
“I am Drax the Destroyer.”
You nodded, “Well Drax, my name is Jaqi, this is Gamora and we are both leaving, you are welcome to come with us, however you will have to weigh the choice if vengeance is worth the price of your life.”
His eyes narrowed and he growled out, “I will never forgive her or her masters for what they have taken from me! Ronan murdered my wife, Hovat, and my daughter, Kamaria. He slaughtered them where they stood. And he laughed!”
You let out a deep breath keeping yourself from saying what you wanted to say to the man both in front of you and behind you and you linked your mind with his subtly learning who his wife and child were before you asked, “If I get you your wife and child will you let this feud go?”
His head turned more towards you with a stunned furrowed expression, “None can do that.”
Your head tilted, “I can.”
He glanced from you to Gamora, who had joined the others in peering at you in shock, “I do not believe you.”
You tilted your head again, “Well you only have to trust me from here to our ship, which should be arriving just about now, and then you can have your wife and child back along with your freedom, if you set this grudge aside.”
His brows furrowed again, “If you are lying-.”
“Then you can kill everyone you are able to on the ship.”
Curtly he nodded and you lowered your scepter and guided the confused group up to the observation deck of the ship on the way to the dock where Yondu’s ship was just in time to see it warp away as Ronan’s ship appeared. Drax’s eyes fell on you and you grinned at him, “That’s our ship.”
Yondu stared at you as did Peter, before they could say anything you snapped your fingers taking the whole group on board the ship, where Ronan’s disguise faded away instantly making Drax growl then pause at your finger extending at him, “Now, I gave you my word.”
His eyes lowered watching as you moved the tip of your scepter to slice a line into the side of your hand exposing purple shimmering blood rippling into a cloud of starlight when your eyes began to glow. Mentally you reached out to your father feeling the two souls being passed through you from your blood you sacrificed that rippled and grew forming two figures between you and Drax. The light in your eyes faded as they came into focus and glanced around at their surroundings then raced to Drax’s arms as he peered up at you watching as you licked your cut healing it.
Shifting your scepter to your formerly cut left hand you offered him your right, “Do we have a deal?”
His hand folded when he went to offer it to you, “This is an illusion, none can offer this.”
With a grin you replied as his arms folded around the pair anyways, “Perhaps I should introduce myself fully, I am Jaqiearae Pear, Daughter of Death.”
Peter scoffed asking, “Daughter of Death? How many did you have to kill for that title?”
Yondu swatted his arm asking you, “You’re a Celestial then?”
You nodded, “Exactly, the only female of my kind.” Your eyes turned to Drax, “My kin were born from the four Cosmic Entities, Death, Entropy, Infinity and Eternity. Though out of my kin I alone was carried by my father Death until my body was completely formed. I alone can guarantee their return, I cannot promise their protection, only a second chance at life. Their fates from now are solely in my father’s hands.”
Drax extended his hand after glancing at Ronan, who was smirking at your full title still, “Deal.”
Yondu chuckled as your hands dropped and you looked at him, “So then you’d know his daddy then?”
You glanced at Peter then Yondu again, “He’s a celestial?”
Peter mumbled, “I love the disbelief in your voice, he’s one?”
Yondu, “Half. His daddy Ego sent us to get him.”
You chuckled then grinned at Peter, “It is nice to see a Nephew of mine he hasn’t eaten.”
Peter’s lips parted, “Eaten?! He actually ate my brothers?!”
You nodded, “Apparently none of the others met his standards, my advice, stay clear. My brother’s not the shiniest nut in the bolt bucket.” You holstered your scepter and glanced up at Ronan asking while Peter still stared at you open mouthed, “How do Kree feel about the Nifiri?”
He smirked at you, “We have been searching for reasons to destroy their planets for years since they threatened our positions to the Xandarians before the treaty.”
You nodded, “Good, you’ve got one now.” You tapped his mind giving him the planet to go to he turned to announce for his men, who cheered and prepped for the impending invasion while you led the group to the mess hall.
Peter made it to your side asking, “Wait up, so, my dad ate my siblings, you can bring back the dead, and somehow also my Aunt, and buddy buddy with Ronan the Accuser while also being friends with David Bowie?!”
You peered up at him while Ronan settled his hand on your back stating, “Jaqi is my Keeper.”
Peter nodded sarcastically up at him then met your eye, “I get the shirt now, Papa Smurf, nice one. What does Keeper even mean?!  Like you own him?”
Ronan, before you could answer said plainly, “In a sense.”
Making you peer up at him, “I do not own you.”
He met your eye, “But you do.”
You turned your head saying, “I’m still learning about the Kree, anyways, what was it you are asking exactly?”
Peter wet his lips even himself being unable to find his question then plainly asked, “How do you know Bowie?”
Pt 6
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Icarus Ch3 - Discovery
Hospitals suck. The first few weeks were all right, you know, being in pain in all, but at this point I think anyone would be stir crazy. The nightly trips to the gym and intermittent visits from Alex and co. became too little, far too soon for my liking. To make matters worse, I’m fine. Despite being given a near clean bill of health I’m still stuck here. The unwelcome truth is, the agency doesn’t know what to do with something like me. Can’t let the Angel of Death loose on the town.
My latest visit was one of the most surprising. I looked up from my daily staring into space i saw none other than the Mighty Captain Warshow. How sweet. Here I was thinking I was his least favorite agent.
“Boss!” I exclaim, oozing with excitement, “How’s it goin’?” He looks mildly uncomfortable under my cheerful smile,wringing his hands as he shuffles into the room. I continue, “So, when can I get out of this hell-hole? Nurses cleared me days ago! Even Alex says I’ve made a miraculous recovery, and she’s a mother hen.” He glances at the wings with thinly veiled disgust. How dare he.. “Don’t like what your assignment did to me?” He looks away.
“Agent Valerius, that's why I’m here. HQ has decided to board you in the compound until further arrangements are made. They will be prepared for your arrival by the end of the week.” Of course. Always and easy way out. Keep me on base and keep me secure, out of the public's vengeful eye. Those snakes.
After fulfilling the purpose of his visit, the burly man turns to leave and I let him reach the door before I call out, “When will I be cleared for duty?” He frowns and leaves without another word.
Alex was ecstatic when I told her the following afternoon. Being my primary visiter for duration of my stay in this hell-hole, she had heard enough of my frustrated ramblings to last a lifetime.
“You know what this means right?” She looked practically giddy with excitement. Her trademark tabled gripped tightly in her hands. “You can finally stop bothering me!”
“I take offence to that! I don't ‘bother’ you.” She looked at me disbelievingly before laughing. “Besides,” I roll my eyes, “I’m literally moving two building over.”
“It’s the thought that counts. Your own space and all.”
“Space regulated by B.O.A.”
“Well what do you want them to do? They can’t exactly send you off like you are. And I’m sure you’ll be out in the field before you know it!” Ouch.
I look away. The genius seemed to hit every nerve in one fell swoop. Managing to cover both my inability to ever live a normal life again, and my careers destined closure. My position had always seemed like the one thing I had. As a kid in a military family, always moving across the country, and never fitting in. Learning to blend in and evaluate people, a skill that later made him an asset in intel gathering. So much in fact, that even the higher ups were willing to deal with my recalcitrance. Kind of hard to fade into the crowd if the crown is running away screaming.
Alex, as painfully oblivious as she is realized her mistake swiftly. Torn between reaching out as comfort and not, her hand hovered between us unsure. With both of us reticent tension filled the atmosphere as thick as maple syrup. We looked away, each not meeting the others eyes.
The genius stood sharply and headed to the door. In her final glance back I caught her gaze. Pity. The quiet monster that seemed to follow my every step. A predator tracking its prey. Antagonising me. Look what you are. You will never be like us. You poor, poor thing. Eating me alive.
As Dr. Gray’s figure left the door, disappearing into shadowy confines of my thinly veiled prison cell. What she left unsaid lingered in the still air.
The next day crept by at an agonizingly slow pace like molasses flooding the streets. With no visitors to distract me time seemed to stand still. The need to escape crawled across my skin like a swarm of fire ants. In a last effort to ease the feeling I checked the bindings on the wings, swept on a large coat (okay, a trench coat), and made my way through the hallway to the gym.
The large room was fortunately near empty, it’s only inhabitant a 40ish agent asleep on the bench. I removed my coat and made my way to the punching bag to vent my frustrations. One hit turned to two, then twenty. It seemed so much easier to lose myself in a haze of adrenaline than it was to think. Sweat poured down my back soaking uncomfortably into feathers of the wings. My movement tearing the bandages loose, letting the limbs loose. Despite that I felt more alive since I woke up in a hospital room.
“Kai!?” Standing on the other side of the room was none other than Alex Gray.
The man slumbering in the corner woke at Alex’s yell. Panic fluttered in my chest. The agent’s eyes opened and he seemed to panic at the sight of me. I realized with a cold feeling of dread that my gut. I grabbed my coat and ran, not stopping till I reached my desolate room. Alex was right behind me.
“Kai I’m so sorry!” My response was vitriolic.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Alex!” A heavy weight settled on my chest, forcing he breath out of my lungs and leaving me gasping. My hands shook as I held them against my chest. I couldn’t breathe. Chills rushed down my spine.
“I didn’t mean to scare anyone! I just needed to get out of here.” Alex’s hand rested on my shoulder but panic still flooded my senses.
“Kai, it’s gonna be alright.”
“No it’s not. I know i’m an abomination. Do you have any idea what it feels like to know that no matter what you do you can never get better. I’m going to spend the rest of my life either a lab rat or glorified prisoner being transferred from one facility to the next.” I fell to the floor and something warm wrapped around me.
“K-Kai!” Alex watched me, her eyes flooded with astonishment, “Your wings!”
That’s when I noticed. The feathered limbs that always dragged so uselessly behind me were not so now. Dull, dark feathers blocked my vision as the wings held themselves in front of me, almost as if to protect me.
Then, spasms of pain shot down my spine, burning like a wildfire. Black spots cloud my vision as my nerves scream in agony. Through my blurry vision I see Alex rush over to me. Tears streamed down my face as my body fell limp and I finally lost consciousness.
Waking up in a hospital bed in varying amounts of pain, with a certain genius perched at the foot, seems to be becoming a very unwelcome habit. Alex looked up from the device in her hand and smiled as she saw my bleary gaze.
“Valerius, you’re up! You have no idea how big this is!” The brunettes incessant energy was back in full swing. Completely disregarding my empty stare, she continued, “I've never seen anything like it. The sensory output from your wings has increased exponentially! The nerve endings knit together almost over night and your brain has managed to add another set of limbs to its control system. If we can replicate it, the applications to paralytics and amputees would be unparalleled.” Finally, she paused to take a breath. “You must be able to feel the difference?”
She was right, as always. I could feel the feathers bend awkwardly under my weight, and the way their barbs are rubbed the wrong way by the material. It was horrible. Feeling the wings so intimately just serve as another reminder that I’m just someone else’s experiment.
“Yeah it’s great… Who knows, maybe one day i'll fly like some kind of angel man!” Alex smiled and the lie felt worthwhile if it fueled her enthusiasm. It seemed as if my years of fake faces and fronts finally did some good. So, I let Alex babble on with a smile on my face.
The next day my move went on as planned despite the wing incident. I stood in my room taking one last look around the place that has been my home for the last 5 months. The plain space was especially empty with my few belonging laying in a duffel at my feet. I caught a glimpse of myself and I couldn’t look away. A gaunt face with prominent cheekbones and sunken eyes stared back at me, a reflection of my months of disappearance and recovery. I could almost see why people looked at me like i’m glass about to shatter.
I hear an eager knock at the door, quickly followed by Alex barging into my room. Back to her energetic self, she was practically vibrating with anticipation.
“It’s moving day!” she said in a sing-songy voice, grabbing my bag and pulling me away from the mirror. The wings were bound again but I almost regretted it. Aside from yesterday, the wings were still unable to hold themselves. Unfortunately, with the enhanced feeling, the setup was hot, restricting, and uncomfortable, leaving me unable to really focus on anything in particular. I followed the genius like a lost puppy.
As Alex and I walked out of the Med Wing, I couldn’t help but feel a hint of melancholy. I’m leaving behind the place where I healed, and all hopes of being fixed, resigning myself to a life of isolation.
My new building is the sumptuous housing for the higher ups, equipped with apartments more similar to those outside the compound than the cramped rooms we stayed in as trainees and agents. Most of the rooms contained kitchens and lounges, luxuries i've been without for far too long.
The moment we entered the building I could tell it was reserved for those of importance. Although not overly decorated, the plush carpet and gleaming chandeliers were impressive. Alex talked my ear off the duration of our ride in the elevator. Obviously I would be staying on the top floor, like a princess trapped in a tower.
“Agent, are you even listening?” Alex’s irritated voice broke me out of my thoughts. I smirked.
“Why would I need to listen to you?” We reached the door and she mock frowned as she opened the door with her set of keys. I walked in and turned of the lights before stumbling back.
“Surprise!” Inside were various friends and acquaintances I had come to know in my years in the agency. Various greetings were thrown my way and Alex watched my reaction with a smug grin.
“Welcome to the real world!”
“Good to have you back”
Then, someone had to say the word that started it all.
“Everyone give it up for Icarus.”
The world fell into madness.
9 notes · View notes
elexuscal · 6 years
Text
Fanfic: Bound
Summary:  At first, Pearl had no reason to chafe against Pink Diamond's final order. There were too many other things to concern herself with, and it was like Rose had said: no looking back.
Through life and death, love and birth, peace and war, Pearl realises she just what a complete betrayal it always was.
Warning: spoilers for A Single Pale Rose, and content warning for everything associated. 
Bound
In the moment Pink Diamond gave that final order, Pearl didn’t care. She didn’t have time to. The enormity of the deed they were about to commit loomed on the horizon, filling up the entirety of her mind with uncertainty and terror and giddiness and wonder.
She wanted to do this. She truly did. She wanted to discard her old life for good, to live free, to be whoever she wanted to be.
It was just hard, letting go of almost everything she’d ever known.
In the days following, Pearl did find a few quick chances to think more about the order. She had some… uncertainty regarding it. Had binding her really been necessary? Surely Pink— Rose knew that she’d keep any promise asked of her, without question.
But it had felt solemn. It had felt important. A fitting way to mark Pink Diamond’s demise.
And surely, Rose was right. In this new world they created, why would there ever be any reason to bring up the past? Rose Quartz would always be Rose Quartz, Pearl would always be Pearl, and there would be no need for anyone to doubt those facts.
Then the Corruption came.
In that timeless length after, when the grief and horror was rawest, there were moments when Pearl thought she couldn’t bear it.
Garnet— or Ruby and Sapphire, they couldn’t always manage to stick together— would be there. Crying. Or not crying at all, looking hard as stone. Pleading with monsters, fighting with them, staring at their bubbles, or else, just sitting on the barren ground, lost in thought, or time-streams, or something else altogether.
And Pearl would imagine throwing herself in front of Garnet, and telling her the truth. The whole of it.
It’s my fault, mine! I’m the reason they’re gone! I faked Pink Diamond’s death, this was all vengeance on behalf of a Gem that’s whole and well—
But she’d choke on her own words.
Garnet would notice. No matter how lost she was in her visions, sooner or later, she always noticed. And she, or Ruby and Sapphire, would wrap an arm or two around Pearl’s slender frame, and rub her back, an offer of silent comfort. Even though they didn’t understand what precisely they were comforting her for, Pearl would accept, and offer comfort back.
Later, she decided, this was for the best. What consolation would the truth have given Garnet? Either way, their friends were all gone.
The final order wasn’t something Pearl thought of much at all, in the millennia that followed.
It only came to her after Steven was born, and even then, quite some time afterwards. When the boy was nearly up to about Pearl’s waist.
Pearl had spent the day teaching him about astronomy, explaining about the solar system, and stars, and asteroids. Steven hadn’t understood much, but he’d marvelled at the projections Pearl had summoned from her gem, and drawn scraggly pictures, and proudly announced that one day he wanted to be an astronaut. Pearl had laughed at that, and so Steven had laughed too.
He was returned to Greg shortly thereafter, and Pearl was left thinking. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to take him into space— they had no working ships left, none at all.
She could tell him about it, though. Not just these generalities. About the other planets she’d seen, the space systems she’d flown through. The radiant colours of nebulae, planets that were covered entirely in oceans, floating cities which could only be built where gravity was only a fraction of Earth’s.
… but she’d seen all of that in service to the Diamond Authority.
There were ways around the binding, of course. Pearl was clever. She knew she could be vague in the right places, direct the focus of the descriptions. Those tales wouldn’t have to risk Rose’s secret.
But what if Steven asked? What if Amethyst did, or— or Garnet? No, Garnet wouldn’t, she’d always respected Pearl’s reluctance to speak about her past, but the other two—
Pearl didn’t know what would happen, and it scared her.
Steven grew. He grew and grew and grew, and learned so much, and Pearl was so, so proud of him.
And then he heard, from a Homeworld Ruby: “I saw the traitorous Rose Quartz shatter Pink Diamond with my own eye!”
Pearl’s hands flew to her mouth automatically. She wasn’t even planning to say something, but the thought of That’s not what happened was still enough to trigger it.
Then she saw Steven.
He looked like someone struck to their core.
She wanted to tell him, tell him then, No, that’s not how it happened, Rose never killed anyone, never would have, she loved everything and wanted it all protected and—
Of course, even if she could speak, she wouldn’t have done so there, surrounded by enemy Rubies. That was something she’d have chosen to share in private. Just for her family, as Steven would have called them.
But it wasn’t a choice, was it?
Hours and hours later, they were in their stolen Red Eye, and Pearl was finally starting to calm down. They’d found Steven. He was there. He was alive. The red was starting to return to his cheeks. He was breathing, and talking, and laughing, and safe.
… and then he asked why none of them ever told him about Pink Diamond.
Garnet answered. She was the only one of them who could.
And it was horrible, hearing her tell these lies she wholly believed. Pearl just sat there, hands on the ship’s controls, lips a thin line, unable to stop herself from listening.
Garnet’s story ended. Steven seemed mollified.
Pearl told herself she was, too.
Then one day Steven stood defiantly in the middle of the living room, face scrunched up in anger and frustration, an old human journal in his hand, demanding answers.
The journal’s picture of the Palanquin was colorless, but Pearl could see it, vivid pink in her mind, the air thick with the scent of hibiscus and oncoming rain, screams and clashing swords in the distance—
And Steven said he’d dreamed of that place. Dreamed.
How? Was he re-living Rose’s memories after all? Was it some other thing, future visions or long sight or a telepathic connection, and if so, with who—
Pearl wanted to ask, but she can’t, she can’t, she can’t.
“Please, you’re making Pearl very upset,” said Garnet.
“No! I’m upset!” yelled Steven.
She can’t, she can’t, she can’t
“We’re. Not. Going. Rose never wanted you to see this place!”
“R- Rose wanted? What about what I want!”
Steven was right, he was completely right. Steven was the one here, with her gem, and his own human heart, and that order Pink Diamond gave so long ago could never have considered this.
But it wasn’t just that, either. Steven wanted to know, and Pearl wanted to tell him. And Garnet, and Amethyst. They deserved to know too, surely? And surely Pearl deserved to loosen that crushing feeling in her chest—
She said, in her mind, What about what I want?  
Garnet was worried. She wasn’t telling Pearl why, concerned that her friend was on the verge of some emotional meltdown. That in itself was one more source of frustration.
Pearl wanted answers, an explanation, but there was only so far she could push without an explanation of her own to offer.
Steven and Greg disappeared. Some days later, Garnet did too. Then she came back. Steven was with her. Greg was not.
He’d been taken to the Zoo.
Returning there was like walking into a dream.
Pearl remembered when the Zoo had first been built. Pink Diamond had been so excited. Her own little collection of humans, in the prettiest of colours, all safe and warm and protected. She could visit them whenever she wanted.
Later, Rose Quartz had soured on it. The carefully conditioned environment was so pale compared to natural human encampments and towns and cities. Even Pearl had been able to appreciate that. There was barely any art here, no music, no chance to choose when they ate or slept, or even their own partners.
They’d discussed ways of disbanding it, but couldn’t figure anything out. To have Pink Diamond close it would have seemed immediately suspicious to the other Diamonds. To send rebellion fleets to raid it would have been dangerous, a waste of both time and resources.
“We can’t risk getting our people shattered for so few humans,” Pearl had said.
Rose had nodded. “Yes. We’ll get them after. They’ll be safer here than on a war-torn planet, anyway.”
That was the justification for the Rose Quartzes, as well. It was truly, truly regrettable how they’d taken the fall for Pink Diamond’s rebellion, but better safe in a bubble than on the front lines. They too would be retrieved after.
But there had been no after. Their spaceships had all been destroyed.
In the magnitude of everything else she’d lost, Pearl had found it hard to care.
She cared now. Not just from the pain of being plunged into a role she thought she’d escaped forever. Not just from fear for Amethyst and Ruby and Sapphire, trapped in this viper’s nest with her. Not just out of worry for Steven, thrown into the same Zoo— prison — his mother had made millennia ago.
Worry for Greg. She was worried for Mr. Gregory Universe.
Later, only after Greg had been rescued and everyone was safe, Pearl marvelled at that.
She marvelled at how excellent she felt, in general. She had a stolen spaceship, she’d insulted an Agate to her face, her whole body was thrumming with rebellion, and they had been victorious!
It was enough to convince her, for quite some time, that everything was alright.
Then Steven turned himself in to Homeworld.
Pearl floated in the water, throat and eyes burning, as Steven announced his identity as Rose Quartz, and Aquamarine took him in.
Everything was a gray flurry of pain after that. Her hands worked automatically at repairing a drop ship while her mind was a million miles away. Her memories swam with protocols for questioning, trials, imprisonment and executions. There should be time to get to him before he was shattered, but...
-but what if those protocols had changed? What if, when confronted by an ‘assassin’, the Diamonds rushed immediately to the harshest punishment?
If only Steven knew. If only Pearl had told him. She had no idea if it really would have helped, if he would have believed her, or the Diamonds would have believed him, or what the fallout would have been be if they had. But surely anything, anything, would be better than this.
This is my fault, she thought, eyes misting up so violently she couldn’t see the tools in front of her.
And then: No. This is Pink Diamond’s.
Later, when Steven tore away from her, tears running down his face, oblivious to the words Pearl was choking on, she thought: No. Rose’s fault.
When Steven came to her, asking if she’d shattered Pink Diamond, Pearl had no idea what brought those suspicions on. She would ask if she could. She would do so many things.
Instead, she walked herself right out of the room, and spent the next hour cleaning swords. Then the next mentally preparing a new training routine for Connie. Approximately thirty minutes spent attempting to perfectly recall musical compositions from 14th Century Japan. When she realised she already remembered them all, she went to vacuum every inch of Steven’s room that she could reach.
Steven came to talk, again, this time with a message from Pearl that she had absolutely no recollection of writing.
A text saying: I want to tell you, but I can’t 🙈
For a moment she was confused. Then an idea unfurled in her mind, along with the realisation she must have already had it.
Oh. Oh, she was smart.
She told Steven to go find her phone. She was allowed to tell him that. He was confused, but hopefully, he would understand soon.
Pearl lost track of things, after that. Her body was still vacuuming. The rhythm was simple and calming like nothing else was, and it required no real guidance from her mind.
She’d heard the human idiom ‘lost in thought’ before, and never had it been so appropriate.
At some point, Amethyst showed up. She asked, “How you doing?”
“Fine,” said Pearl.
“Cuz ya seemed kinda… off, earlier.”
“Mmm.”
Amethyst stared at her. Distantly, Pearl knew she should find this uncomfortable, but did not have the mental energy to do anything about it.
“Have you seen Steven?” Amethyst asked.
“Yes,” said Pearl.
Silence.
“Where?” asked Amethyst, leaning forward.
“The battlefield.” Pearl could see him in her mind. She could see everything. It seemed so much more real than the Beach House.
She could see Steven’s horror when he discovered the truth. He was in her mind. She could feel it.
After it was all done, Pearl felt untethered.
Something around her throat had loosened. For millennia, she’d always been bound to someone. Now, that final pink rope had been cut, and she felt like a human boat with a broken sail, slack and directionless.
There was a lot of crying. From herself, from Garnet, Ruby, Sapphire, Amethyst, Steven. It all blurred together.
Eventually, Pearl fell asleep.
She wasn’t even aware it had happened. Those handful of times she’d tried before, she’d had to lie still and stiff, thinking intently about not thinking. This time, she simply became so exhausted that she tumbled into it without realising. Once there, she did not dream.
When she woke up, it was dark.
She was lying on the couch. She could not recall how she’d ended up there— perhaps someone had carried her. They must have laid the blanket over her. There was something pressed against her calf. Looking carefully, Pearl discovered it was Amethyst, sitting on the floor, head slumped on the couch’s cushion, some saliva dripping from her mouth. Steven was on the other couch, tucked into a small ball, snoring quietly. Next to him, in an almost identical pose, was Peridot. Off to the side, Pearl made out the slumbering mass of Lion, his chest rising and falling softly. The animal’s mass half-blocked another shape-- or shapes-- also covered in blankets. Was it Garnet, or Ruby and Sapphire?
Pearl supposed it didn’t matter, as long as the two were together.
She felt no need to go back to sleep. Carefully, so as not to disturb Amethyst, or anyone else around her, Pearl eased herself up and got to her feet. She would go to her room and… think.
Evidently, she wasn’t as quiet as she thought-- or perhaps Steven wasn’t sleeping as deeply as she’d assumed-- because as she passed, his eyes blinked open.
“Pearl?” he murmured, bleary.
She said nothing, just smiled at him faintly. Pearl saw the slow realisation as memory crept over him.
“Are you okay?” he said, shifting a little.
“I’m alright,” Pearl said, and to her own surprise, it was the truth.
He looked between her and the stone door. “Please,” he said. “Can we talk?”
“Of course,” Pearl said. He got to his feet, and seemed to hesitate a little. Pearl recognised what he wanted, and took his hand. It was soft and warm. Side by side, hand in hand, they walked into the Temple.
AN: between my masters and querying for my original novel, i barely have time for fic writing, but after that ep, i had to write something
[dies]
166 notes · View notes
whimsicalworldofme · 6 years
Text
Tumbling Down
Poe taps Ava to join him as he interrogates the captured pilot of the crashed ship and her ability to use the Force gives them information that seems almost impossible. 
Word Count: 2879
Content Warnings: Mentions of death, murder, and violence, though none graphic.
               The wide, tiled, echoing halls of the command center bustled with people darting too and from various scrambling tasks, the whole base still on alert. Officers nodded politely or even greeted Ava with a quick “ma’am” before darting off to tend to their duties. She could hear talk of ships being fueled, the scope of their radar being expanded beyond their planet’s system, all the sort of things that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and her mouth go dry as the sands of Jakku. Though Rey had insisted they were safe, command was clearly still on high alert. She couldn’t do anything about that though, so she kept her head up and made her way to the room Rey said Poe would be in.
               She knocked on the heavy door, the echo of it reverberating through the air. No one answered but the mechanical door lifted open with the whir and hiss of its type and Ava stepped through, finding Poe and a few lower ranking officers on the other side, Isaacs, Atmon, and Tuth. They huddled in a clump on one side of the room, hands clasped behind their backs or folded over their chests as the muttered amongst themselves. None of them were watching the girl on the other side of the room, cuffed down to a chair. She was humanoid with a complexion that reminded Ava of the reddish, sand worn cliffs of Tatooine like she had seen once or twice only in pictures. Her hair, deep green in color hung long on one side and was buzzed short on the other. But those were the most noticeable things about her. What caught and held Ava’s attention was the high collared, deep grey uniform jacket she wore bearing the insignia and rank badges of the First Order.
               “You sent for me?” Ava asked her husband, glancing warily at the prisoner. She wouldn’t use any sort of pet names or even Poe’s name, unwilling to give any information away to this intruder. Every sense in her body screamed to be alert, stay guarded, not trust anything.
               “We need your particular skills,” Poe stated in a low voice, his arms folded over his chest, head slightly bowed, glancing up at her from under his thick brows. “She says she doesn’t know how she got here. You can tell if she’s being deceptive, right?”
               “Yes,” Ava nodded. Searching the feelings of others was a handy Force tool. She sometimes used it to understand why Luke was lashing out without a seeming reason, but she tried not to do so too often. “She said she doesn’t know how she got here?”
               The officers all nodded. Ava shifted her weight from one foot to the other, leaning to one side to get another look at their captive. She wasn’t struggling against her bonds and she didn’t look uncomfortable or upset. Ava almost expected her to look annoyed but even that wasn’t the case. Her eyes were wide and she chewed lightly on her bottom lip. Her fingers curled and uncurled and tapped on the arms of the chair. Fear poured off her in waves that threatened to knock Ava over.
               “Sit with me and we’ll see what we can find out,” Poe nodded his head in the direction of the table and Ava followed as he led the way over.
               The other officers shuffled out of the room, but Ava knew they were just going to the adjoined observation room. There was a window and a speaker system, so they could hear everything and see it all but not interrupt. The pair of them sat down side by side across from the alien woman and Poe clicked on a recording device. Ava had never sat in on anything like this, but she knew it happened when an enemy operative was captured. Leia had conducted these types of interrogations previously, her connection to the Force undoubtedly an asset just as Ava’s would be.
               “We have a few questions for you,” Poe began, glancing over at Ava who nodded in encouragement. “We won’t harm you, so you don’t need to be afraid. But we’d appreciate honest answers.”
               “You’re a lot nicer about it than the Order would be,” the woman scoffed slightly.
               “We do things a little differently around here,” he stated, leaning forward, hands clasped in front of him on the table. “First off, can I get your name?”
               It wasn’t a common question in an interrogation, but Ava knew her husband, knew his heart. He treated everyone with decency, like a living breathing being with a soul. His kindness wouldn’t ever end with only people belonging to the Resistance.
               “Captain Isaria Obles,” she didn’t hesitate. “Who are you?”
                “Poe,” he answered with as little information as possible, but Ava watched as Isaria’s eyes widened in recognition and admiration.
               “Poe Dameron?” She got a little giddy even. Poe nodded, his brow furrowing in confusion. “General Poe Dameron? The one who led the attack on Star Killer base?”
               “Yes…” Poe drew the word out, clearly at a loss as to what was happening.
               “Cor,” she whistled. “You’re a legend! I got to see you in action. I’ve never seen flying like that before. The way you move that X-Wing,” she shook her head. “It’s like poetry in motion.”
               Poe laughed, licking his bottom lip and scratching at his scalp, clearly taken aback but chuffed that someone, even on the opposite side, held his skill in such high regard. Ava didn’t mind it, but they had an objective to complete, so she cleared her throat, hinting that he needed to get things back on track.
               “Who’s your friend here?” Isaria tipped her head in Ava’s direction.
               “I’m Ava.”
               “Just Ava?” The captive held a hint of curiosity in her tone and it was difficult to place what drove it.
               “Just Ava,” Poe interjected, clearly not wanting Isaria getting too chummy with her. “Now, Isaria, I have to ask, are you alone? Our radar hasn’t picked up any other ships in the area but that doesn’t mean anything.”
               “I’m a defector,” the alien claimed. “I told you before, I’m on my own, intentionally.”
               Ava couldn’t feel anything disingenuous about her or her claim. She felt determination and a desperation to be believed but not from a driver of deception, rather one of wanting safety.
               “You’ll forgive me if it’s difficult to believe you,” Poe insisted. He stayed calm and curt, but somehow kind, his tone very similar to how he addressed Luke when their son had done something wrong. Poe never spoke in anger to him but rather moved to get Luke to examine his feelings and thoughts and correct his missteps. His patience was a marvel and Ava felt proud watching him now, though she knew she really needed to focus.
               “Your men searched my ship and me,” Isaria said. “I have no tracking devices, nothing transmitting a signal, nothing encrypted or otherwise. That ship doesn’t even belong to the First Order. I got it on Keslar Six. Traded my Tie for it. The buyer clearly got the better end of that deal, piece of shit…” she mumbled through a stream of curses in her native language that neither Ava nor Poe understood but Ava could feel the emotion behind the words and she was genuinely angry about having lost her Tie fighter and having been cheated into a junk ship.
               “Why would you want to defect from the First Order?” Ava asked this time, drawing her out of her mumbled tirade. Isaria stared blankly at her, blinking once or twice.
               “Why would anyone stay?” She countered. “I assume you’ve been with the Resistance for quite some time?” Ava nodded. “You’ve seen what they do, what they’re like. It’s gotten infinitely worse since Supreme Leader Snoke’s murder. General Hux is a monster. Supreme Leader Ren does nothing to rein him in.”
               “Worse how?” Poe’s cheek twitched slightly as he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. The girl’s gaze turned to him, eyes ablaze.
               “I’ve seen village after village slaughtered. Down to every last baby. Used to be that people would be forced to labor camps. Now Hux has them killed. I know labor camps are bad too, don’t give me that look,” she scowled. “But at least they were alive. There’s forced occupation more than ever. Storm Troopers posted in mines and production lines to work people until they collapse. The Order is in desperate need of supplies and terror seems to be the only way to get them. He obliterated an entire city of a million people from orbit because they refused to allow their mines to be conscripted. He wanted to make an example of them.”
               Ava felt her heart twisting in agony and grief, seeing Poe’s expression she knew he felt the same. The First Order may not have a super weapon capable of destroying planets in one strike anymore, but they were still deadly. Even if they were in their death throes, they would fight to the end without an ounce of humanity.
               “I couldn’t be part of it anymore,” Isaria shook her head. “I joined the Order because I believed in it as a unifying force that the galaxy needed after the fall of the empire, saw them as a strong hand that the Republic simply didn’t have that was necessary to maintain peace and order. But that’s not order. It’s terror.”
               “But why come to us?” Ava asked. “Why not just run away?”
               “I don’t know,” Isaria frowned. “I didn’t plan to join the Resistance. I don’t even know how I knew how to get here. Something just…possessed me. I wish I could explain it better than that, but I can’t.”
               “You didn’t know we were here before you left the First Order?” Poe asked, one brow going up quizzically. Isaria shook her head. “Did you ask around once you got away from the Order?” Another head shake. “And you didn’t hear any rumors and decide to check them out?” Another headshake.
               “I thought I was just running away. I don’t know why I felt compelled to come here. I can’t explain it. It’s like I wasn’t in control my body just autopiloted me here,” she insisted. “Like it was hardwired into my brain.”
               Ava felt her pulse quicken. She knew there was only one real explanation for that sensation. Getting up from her seat, she went around the table, unafraid since Isaria was still shackled to the chair. She didn’t warn her, didn’t say anything, the all consuming need to know the truth, a fear mingled with hope, driving her beyond her usual use of manners. Reaching out a hand, she kept it lingering with her fingertips about an inch from the alien girl’s temple. Pulling in a deep breath as though about to plunge under water, Ava tapped into the Force and dove into the depths of Isaria’s mind and memories. What wasn’t clear to her, what had been hidden, could easily be revealed through the Force. Shutting her eyes, she pushed her way into the deep recesses that the girl couldn’t access any longer herself.
               “What is she doing?” Isaria sounded panicked and Ava heard the rattle of the metal cuffs on the chair.
               “She won’t hurt you,” Poe tried to calm her. “She might be able to find answers for you.”
               “I don’t like it,” Isaria complained. “What is this, some kind of hoodoo?”
               “She’s a Jedi,” Poe stated, pride undeniable in his voice.
               “Kriff,” Isaria whistled but said nothing else.
               Ava saw it all. Saw the doubts that had plagued the girl that she held back whenever new and more deplorable orders came down the chain of command. How she had guarded her doubts while others who spoke openly in condemnation were tortured and even executed. Ava saw the nights of desperation trying to formulate a plan with stolen galactic maps hidden carefully in her quarters. And then there was him, like an ominous shadow, towering, imposing, and terrifying.
               Do you doubt the cause of the First Order Captain? The deep familiar voice echoed in Ava’s mind as she saw Isaria’s memories.
               No Supreme Leader.
                The lie would sound convincing enough to the untrained ear. The shadowy man, robed and cloaked in black said nothing, simply pressed his full lips together and raised a brow. Ava knew that face, knew the mind behind it. She dug a little deeper. There was something there, blocking her but she powered past it.
               You will go to Paxis, Ben’s voice rang out and he then gave the coordinates. Once there you will find Poe Dameron and give him this holo-drive. If you’re caught you won’t remember the coordinates to Paxis or that it’s a rebel base. You will believe you were simply running away. You will not remember that I sent you. You will not tell anyone that I sent you. If Dameron asks where you got your information, you will say you stole it.
               Ava nearly collapsed to her knees from the effort it took to break down the barriers Ben had put in place, her whole body shaking from exhaustion but also utter shock. Rey had been right. Despite Ben being upset about Ava marrying Poe, despite his behaving childishly to her, he was turning back to the light.
               “Isaria, is there something you needed to give to Poe?” She gave a verbal nudge, wondering why that hadn’t come up before.
               “A holo-drive,” the captive nodded. “It has information about trade routes, lists of base locations, layouts, everything I could compile without getting caught.”
               “Where is it?” Ava asked.
               “They took it,” Isaria shrugged.
               “She’s being honest,” Ava turned her attention back to Poe, walking with shaking steps back over to her chair and dropping into it, still in a haze of disbelief. “She didn’t know we were here. She didn’t have any control over coming here. But she’d not a threat.”
               “We’ll give you quarters,” Poe said, slow to turn his attention away from his wife, “you’ll be under watch for a while, you understand.”
               “You aren’t going to lock me up?” Isaria balked.
               “You’re not a prisoner,” Poe assured her. “We have to be wary and you’ll be limited to where you can go but we won’t lock you in a cell and leave you to rot.” He waved a hand for the other officers to come back into the room. “Captain Isaacs has been working to get a place ready for you. She’ll accompany you there and introduce you to the fighters who will be in charge of keeping an eye on you.”
               Isaacs strode effortlessly into the room and unlocked the cuffs on the chair. Isaria stood up slowly, confusion mingling with relief in her expression. Hesitantly she held out a hand for Poe.
               “Thank you, General,” she could hardly speak above a whisper.
               “You’re welcome,” Poe shook her hand with a curt nod.
               Isaria straightened before unbuttoning her uniform Jacket and shrugging it off, letting it drop on the floor. She still looked like a member of the First Order in her military boots, grey pants, and black undershirt, but at least the insignia was gone. She stepped on the jacket and twisted her foot a little, rubbing it into the ground with disdain before walking out of the room with Isaacs, not bothering to look back.
               “It was Ben,” Ava murmured once the door shut. “He put together the information on the drive. He used the Force to send her here.”
               “He knows where we are?” Poe’s alarm wasn’t unwarranted. “How?”
               “My guess is whatever his weird bond with Rey is gave him insight,” Ava shrugged. “You know none of us would tell him. You know we’re very guarded about details that might give us away.”
               “We’ve been getting word of a lot of defectors lately,” Poe mused. “Defectors with information that ultimately gets back to us. Do you think he could be behind that?”
               “I don’t know,” she propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward, raking her fingers through her hair, struggling to make sense of what she’d witnessed. “The First Order has a lot of problems on its own. But if Ben truly wanted to make things right, he’d be smart enough to take advantage of that and his position. No one would suspect the Supreme Leader of undermining the whole Order, would they?”
               “No, I don’t think they would,” Poe bit his bottom lip, head tilting to the side as he mulled it over. “Atmon is looking over the holo-drive on a secure device right now. We’ve expanded the radar perimeter and have everyone on alert still in case we have to evacuate. This could all be an elaborate trap.”
               “It could,” Ava nodded. “But I hope it isn’t.”
               “You still want him to come back, don’t you?” Poe didn’t hold any anger in the question, didn’t seem upset even. He reached out and rubbed her back with one hand as she nodded, momentarily mute. “If Leia didn’t give up hope, then neither will we,” he offered her a fond smile. “He’s still our Ben, no matter what we’ve all been through. He’s still family.”
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