#the blades li get posted on the days i had assigned them

[lilyoffandoms]

Daenarya (@storyofmychoices)

I said I would not attempt eyes from the side angle after attempting Tyril’s but here we are.

#forever haunted by eyes #anyway i’m posting this one by itself since i posted maiele’s yesterday #the blades li get posted on the days i had assigned them #kinda wanna do valax and aerin too but we will see #i gotta stop drawing eyes #now that i’m looking at it i think i made her brows too light hmmm #my art ish thing #i polish nothing

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

The Construct of Time, Chapter 08

Pairing: HotchReid

Written For: The HotchReid Valentine’s Day Trope Challenge, Trope Assignments = Historical AU, Time Travel

Summary: The year is 1924, half a decade after the first World War, and a few years before the Great Depression would devastate the nation. It is a time of contradiction: the modernist uprising of science and innovation, met with a traditionalist, fearful desire to cling to the past in a fast-evolving, urbanist society. And on this morning in Washington D.C. an unmarked package is left outside the office of Aaron ‘Hotch’ Hotchner, P.I., with a note simply telling him to find the rest, and a substantial price tag attached. What he finds in this package is something he has never seen before, hundreds of years old, and he barely knows where to start trying to find more like it. Ultimately he is pointed towards someone that may just have a clue what to do with his charge: a Classics Historian working in the basements of the Smithsonian, Dr. Spencer Reid. Together, what they discover sends them on a break-neck chase across the city, searching for a mysterious collection of powerful artifacts, and the people that are trying to sell them. Forever changing everything they know about the world, the people in it, truth, lies, love, and the fragile construct of time.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (to be determined)

Chapter CW/notes: lots of mentions of blood and wounds and some wump/first-aide type stuff. And so much sexual/romantic tension. I also finally got to use my "here's looking at you, kid" Humphrey Bogart reference. So when Hotch calls Spencer 'kid' in this chapter think Bogart and not the age difference. 🙈 Shorter chapter because otherwise it would have been like 6k and this story has shorter chapters so... enjoy and look forward to the next chapter later this week/weekend. C: it’s already written lmao. 

Word Count: 2317

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

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Chapter 08: A Quiet Place

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It's not the first time that Hotch has had to break into his own office building after hours, but it is the first time he's had to do so while dripping blood all along the hallway carpets. The wound really isn't as bad as it seems, he just bled like a stuck pig when the blade had been pulled out of his side – so now he looks like he works in a slaughterhouse. Spencer, in particular, is very worried about it, and in turn Hotch is worried about him. Blood splattered across his face, his shirt and soaked into his sweater. It can't all be Hotch's. The blood was on him before he'd been stabbed. 

They make it into his office, Hotch turns on a desk light that barely illuminates the darkness at such a late hour while Spencer scrambles for the first aid kit. They have to move fast, not knowing how much time they have before someone comes knocking. 

It's clear Spencer is panicking, but so is Hotch, and when they come together the first thing he does is tug off Spencer's jacket and pull the shirt-tails loose from his trousers. He needs to see how bad the wound is, preying the younger man hadn't been grazed or pierced with a stray bullet.

"What are you doing?! Stop moving so much, you're injured!" Spencer protests, but even shaky from the post-adrenaline of the fight Hotch is stronger than him. He pulls the soaked sweater up to try and pry it off where the blood has begun to dry and grow tacky, making the layers stick together. God, it's everywhere.

"I'm fine! You're the one that's hurt," Hotch insists.

"Aaron, he stabbed you!"

"And you're drenched in blood!" He gets the sweater over Spencer's head, and the moment it's off the young doctor gets his bearings and grabs Hotch by the hands. Surprisingly strong, trembling in his haste.

"It's not mine!"

Hotch freezes at the tone, the words, and looks at him – really looks at him. Tears blurring his eyes, red speckled on his face in a distinct splatter pattern, what looks like a thumb print on the swell of his cheek. Tenderly placed. 

The locket had been in his hand when he appeared. He'd used it. He'd gone back in time.

Slowly everything aligns and begins to make sense. The possibilities tick off as the seconds tick by, and Hotch feels his heart thumping loud and hard in his chest.

"Is it mine?" he asks.

Spencer swallows thick, a flicker of emotion so strong that it almost breaks their eye contact as it crosses his face. There and gone in the blink of an eye. Devastating as a hurricane. "I don't know." It's the truth, and yet it's not – Hotch tries to read behind the guarded veil of the man's eyes, his stare unblinking and pleading and everything Hotch wants to drown in. He reaches up and touches the side of Spencer's face, brushing back wild curls, hovering just above the smudged print. It's the same size and shape as his own thumb. 

"And this?" he doesn't have to voice it, but it makes something shatter in Spencer's expression. He looks like he's about to cry. Hotch almost regrets bringing it up. 

"Can I patch you up now?" Spencer asks, quiet and shaky. 

"It's not bad," Hotch tells him, almost reassuring in the face of what he's just learned. "The bleeding stopped before we got out of the taxi–"

"Aaron," Spencer pleads.

And how could he ever say no? 

Hotch strips out of his jacket and leather holsters wrapped around his shoulders, wincing at the pull of his muscles against his injuries, and then peels off his dress shirt bit by bit. The dried blood sticks to his skin, and it's as he lifts his undershirt that he realizes the change in the air. The charge of it. So distracting he forgets the old wounds now exposed among the new.

Spencer goes from maudlin to flustered within seconds, the most gorgeous shade of pink warming his skin, and he makes himself busy with the bandages and stitching thread from the first aid kit. But his gaze keeps darting up, skittering along every inch of the older man's torso. Hotch sports more than his fair share of scars from the war, the stab wound would just be one more, and there are spots blooming from bruises all along his sides and chest beneath the dark chest hair. Even roughed up as he is, Hotch can't help but wonder if his thumping heart is visible through his endorphin-damp skin.

"I know they aren't pretty, but you don't have to avert your eyes for my modesty," he tries to tease, to get the man to look at him once more – with only half honest intentions. Hotch still is not entirely certain Spencer isn't hiding an injury.

"It's not that," he mumbles, and Hotch leans against his desk with Spencer standing close to reach his wound in his side in the dim angled light. Knees knocking, Hotch's body curved like a question mark towards the man, as if he can't stay away for the life of him. "I just thought it was the shoulders of your suit jackets that made you look so… broad." His eyes flick up and then back down to where he's still trying to peel bandages apart with trembling fingers. 

Hotch grants him mercy by not playing too much into that. Allowing Spencer to breathe, calm himself enough to stitch his side closed and clean it, his touch gentle on his bare skin, his scent enticing the closer they stand. Gravitating towards each other, inch by inch. The younger man thrums with contained adrenaline, energy, both spent and excess. What he must have seen that made him dare to use the artifacts, to go back mere minutes and keep it from happening.

There's no question in his mind, now, what happened.

"You saved my life," Hotch rumbles into the quiet buzz of the office. Dark and intimate. Spencer's honey hazel eyes catch the faintest traces of light, making them golden when he looks up to catch and snag with Hotch's own. God, but he is beautiful.

"You saved mine first." 

"But not to your liking." It wasn't barbed, the way Hotch points this out, but it's enough to make the other man's strong will falter within his gaze. "You used the necklace. When you swore you wouldn't, again."

Spencer licks his lips slow, looking aside in the smallest show of shame. Guilt – for breaking his promise. But not sorry he did, not in the slightest. "The cost was too great to bear." Hotch frowns, then.

"You think my life is worth more than yours?" he accuses, more harshly.

"I don't think anyone's life is worth that." 

Hotch huffs in disbelief, lightened by amazement and something much heavier making his heart still beat thickly against his bruised ribs. "Tell that to the guy you whacked with a silver tray. You're a hell of an ace in a firefight." He couldn't help but be impressed, at least on that front. It's Spencer's turn to let out a dubious sigh of laughter. 

"You'd be the first to say that," he says, incredulousness weighing down his voice.

"Hey." Hotch tilts Spencer's chin up, daring to break that contact before he can think better of it. Skin on skin beneath both their hands, with Spencer's on his waist and Aaron's on the delicate dip of his chin beneath those parted lips. "I mean it. You had my back, I had yours; that's what partners do." 

"Partners?" Spencer asks, breathless. 

"Yes," Hotch sighs, smiles the smallest and easiest smile. He feels light as air. "Me and you, kid – we're in this together." 

The last of the bandages are applied, and Spencer's touch is slow and hot along Hotch's bare skin. Burns right through him, to his core and further. 

"See? Good as new," Hotch tells him. His voice heavy and dark. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

"Promise?" Spencer still sounds spooked, and the barriers between them have officially broken down to rubble. Nothing to hold them back. They're standing so close, barely any space between them. Spencer leans in, rests his forehead against Hotch's. It makes his heart thump loud and devastating against his ribs.

"Cross my heart." 

He's not sure when he'd dropped his hand before, but Hotch's fingertips tingle with the loss of Spencer's flushed cheeks beneath his touch. So he reaches up again, cups his jaw, feels the younger man's pulse thrum and race in his throat, and Hotch tilts his face up once more. Their lips hover, Spencer's breath is soft and sweet as he exhales shakily, and Hotch wants to kiss him so badly it aches worse than the bruises. No, more than a kiss – 

Hotch wants to inhale him like smoke, drink from those lips – taste him – and his last inhibition falls away as he succumbs to how much he wants and…

 The phone rings. So loud and jarring Spencer flinches back, nearly jumping out of his skin. Hotch exhales in frustration – almost doesn't answer the shrill call. His fingers linger on Spencer's face, dragging along the younger man's jaw longingly. Spencer all but leans into the touch. As drunk on the moment as Hotch is. God, they'd been so close.

He reaches for the phone. Begrudgingly answers without looking away from Spencer's flushed cheeks and bright eyes. "Hotchner." 

"Hotch, it's JJ," comes the reply, tinny and far away. "I've been trying to reach you all day. Glad I tried your office again." 

"Yeah, impeccable timing," he murmurs, sulking. It draws a small smile to Spencer's lips, which lessens the blow not being able to taste them seconds ago. "What have you got for me?"

"I found your auction." That gets his attention right away, and Spencer's, too. He's still standing close enough to be able to hear JJ through the receiver. It takes more self-control than Hotch is willing to admit to not pull the other man into his side. See how well they fit together with less clothing between them. "Just one problem, it's already happened." 

" – Wait, what?"

"Last Tuesday," JJ informs him. "On the upper side, private showroom and not a lot of above-board dealings. The numbers I heard were thrown around could buy a city block." 

"Jesus Christ," Hotch runs a hand through his hair, thoughts whirling as it tries to get back on a business-minded track. "A week ago–"

"Sorry, Hotch. Everything you're looking for is long gone," JJ says, and does indeed sound sorry for it. "Probably halfway across the world, by now." 

"Yeah," he agrees, scratching through his dark locks at the back of his head, and resigning himself to the fact he and Spencer had been chasing their tails for days. The artifacts had left the country before Hotch ever received that puzzle box outside his office door. "Thanks for the legwork, JJ. I owe you."

Hanging up throws the office back into silence, nothing but the buzz of electrical lights and a fan spinning by the window. The mood from before dissipated along with their goals for this case.

"What now?" Spencer asks, quiet and soft. Hotch looks at him, they're still less than a foot apart. He can feel the heat of him, still dressed in a blood splattered dress shirt and his hair ruffled from Hotch undressing him so quickly. Bags under his eyes – he hasn't been able to sleep with all their running around – and Hotch knows he probably isn't much better off. Roughed up and bruised, and still on the run from whoever hit the cigar lounge. 

But that didn't make any sense. Why would someone be after them just for asking a few questions, if the artifacts were already out of the country? Just for the necklace and the box? 

"We need to regroup," Hotch decides. "There's still too many puzzle pieces, and no place to lay them all out." Spencer nods in agreement, looking around the space as if assessing what was there to be used for such an endeavor. Hotch can already picture it; his secretary's bulletin board rolled out and pieces of paper strung up bit by bit as they worked the case out with their hands. And wouldn't that be wonderful, if they could. "No, we can't stay here."

"Why not?"

"My home and office will be there first place whoever's hit squad has our numbers will be looking for us." Hotch doesn't miss how Spencer's eyes trail over the cuts and bruises on his chest, the ones on his sides blooming to the exact size of the man's brass knuckles who got the better of him once or twice in Dave's office. They were really in rough shape, and Hotch was sure the Smithsonian and Spencer's place would be out of the question, as well. He sighs, unsure. "Any bright ideas?"

Spencer chews on his lip, that distant look in his eyes that Hotch was beginning to recognize. The wheels spinning in that brilliant, gorgeous mind. "One," he murmurs, surprising Hotch once more. "My mentor – the eccentric one? We can go to him."

"You'd risk that?" Hotch asks. Thinking of Spencer's friends, how lovely and helpful they'd been. He knows both Srgt. Morgan and Ms. Garcia would give them shelter and aid in an instant, but neither he nor Spencer would want to put them in that kind of danger. 

"We'll be safe there," Spencer assures him. "He is discreet, when he wants to be, and holds a lot of academic and political pull over a lot of people. More favors than he'd ever admit to." That sounded slightly ominous. "And his home is a fortress."

Well, God bless for small favors.

"Sounds perfect."

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tbc…

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Tagged list so far: @physics-magic​​ @thaddeusly​​ @sideblogforcrimpy​ @anxious-enby​ @t4tpoisondamage​​​​

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#short chapter very sorry #it was getting too long winded #and yes I know I'm known for that but this story has pretty short concise chapters and I wanted to keep that going #but good news lol chapter 09 is already written so that'll be up very soon #HotchReid #Heid #The construct of time #cw wounds #tw blood #whump and first aide stuff #katyswriting

[darthkruge]

Hello! Could you do an Anakin x reader where the reader is jealous of Padmé so goes on a walk through the night, and leaves a little trinket of hers so Ani doesn’t worry. She runs into a bounty hunter and Ani senses her danger through the force and saves her? Thanks 🥰

Anakin Skywalker x Reader ~ Jealousy and Rescues

Summary: Jedi!Reader gets themself in some trouble after going on a walk during the night and Anakin comes to their aid

Warnings: Angst, jealousy, torture (knives), blood, kidnapping, ends w/ fluff I promise

Words: 3.8k

A/N: Yess!! I loved writing this so much and I’m sorry it took me longer than I expected to get out. I think I went a bit angstier than your request implied but that’s where my brain was at today slfksjd! I am also rushing to post this so if there are some grammatical errors whoops

gif credit

After a few threats to the Senate, your boyfriend was assigned as Padme’s bodyguard. You knew, rationally, their relationship was strictly professional. He’d never be disloyal towards you and you did trust him. There was nothing for you to worry about. Or, at least, that’s what you repeatedly told yourself as you saw them walking and laughing together. 

Being in a secret relationship is difficult, you wouldn’t deny. Especially when your boyfriend was one of the most attractive and charming men in the entire galaxy. You would see people flirt with him constantly and there was nothing you could do without jeopardizing both of your careers as Jedi. 

You played with the necklace he had given you when you spent your first Life Day together all those years ago. Your home planet on one side, Coruscant on the other, symbolizing your past and your future -- your future with Anakin. It always calmed you; it was something you could hold and feel in public, a reminder of the realness of your hidden romance. 

You let out a sigh, dropping the pendant as you tried to shake off the unease you felt as you watched them interact. It mostly worked, too. When you remembered all Anakin had done for you, the intense moments of happiness and love you’d shared, you never felt more secure. But for some reason, as you saw Anakin lean down so Padme could whisper something in his ear, that anxious and guilty warmth ran through your veins.

You hated feeling jealous. It didn’t matter that you logically knew you had nothing to fear, the emotion remained. It embarrassed you, making you feel childish and small. It made you want to crawl out of your skin and hide away, yet simultaneously run up to Anakin and beg him for reassurance. It made you hate Padme, a woman so kind you cursed yourself for feeling that way. It made your mind run wild, conconting torturous scenarios that made your insecurities flair. 

Even though it brought you pain to watch, you had to expend great energy to tear your eyes away from them. You returned to your apartment, waiting for Anakin’s shift to be over. All you wanted was some time alone with him, to hear him tell you how much he loved you, to feel his arms around you and lips against yours. To hear him gently laugh as he picks up on your jealousy and mumble reassurances into your ear. You awaited his beautiful words that would evidently overtake your thoughts and leave you feeling secure and peaceful. 

Letting your brain run for a while, you felt yourself unconsciously picking at your fingernails and playing with your hair, doing anything to keep yourself busy. You jumped as C3PO entered your room, too lost in thought to register anyone’s presence. 

“I apologize Master L/N, but Master Skywalker instructed me to inform you that he will be working late this evening.”

You felt your heart start to pound as your eyes grew heavy with tears. “Threepio, what do you mean? Did he tell you why?”

“Senator Padme has to go to a special dinner this evening to meet with the leaders of some other planets and he must accompany her.”

“Oh.”

C3PO walked closer to you. “Are you alright, Master L/N? Should I call for Master Anakin?”

You shook your head, quickly wiping the tears from your eyes. “I’m fine, thank you.” You said, trying to keep your voice as even and happy as you possibly could. 

The droid exited your apartment as you walked onto the balcony, the cold air hitting your cheeks and quelling the hot embarrassment that flowed through you. There is nothing to worry about, you rationalized. These dinners are formalities, Padme goes to them all the time! And Anakin is just her bodyguard, he would never cheat on you! 

Even as you thought the words, you felt frustratingly unconvinced. You decided to go for a walk, the silence in the apartment that your boyfriend was supposed to be back at driving you mad. Even so, you didn’t want him to worry on the off chance he returned home before you. Sighing, you slid the necklace off and placed it on the nightstand, quickly scribbling a note that read “on a walk, be home soon.”

You pulled your Jedi robes closer around you as you walked the Coruscant streets. You had no particular destination in mind, nor did you know how long you intended to be gone for. You let your body drive you, walking around as if in a haze while using all your energy to expel the thoughts from your mind. You made random turns, walking in various directions until you felt yourself calm. 

You looked up and to your left and smiled as you saw your apartment. Anakin. You smiled to yourself and shook your head at your foolishness. You didn’t know why you’d gotten so worked up over his and Padme’s relationship; at the end of the day, he would always return home. 

 Perhaps this was why you weren’t paying attention. Or maybe it was the way you were focussed on  Anakin’s force signature, honing in on him and letting the rest of the world fade away. It could have been your exhaustion, emotionally drained for the day. Whatever the reason, you were unprepared when a dark figure jumped out of the shadows and stunned you. All you knew was that one minute you were on your way home to him and the next you were surrounded by darkness as the ground quickly caught up to you.

Anakin rushed out of dinner, feeling quite guilty for leaving you alone all day. He hated working late, especially during the few times you and him were both on Coruscant. Frequently, your missions kept you apart and, thus, the days where you were home together were sacred. He reached out to you, surprised to not feel your force signature in the apartment. 

He opened the door and was met with a darkness and stillness that immediately set him off. He pulled out his lightsaber but was careful not to ignite it just yet. He looked around and came upon your note and necklace and relief flowed through him. However, he couldn’t shake the sense that something was off. The words in your note felt clipped and cold and he knew you must not have been happy to hear he was running late. 

He walked to the balcony, trying to see you but quickly realizing the futility of the plan. He paced in the apartment, reaching out farther with the Force. Although he hadn’t completely found you, Anakin’s blood ran cold as he sensed with overwhelming clarity that you were in danger. You wouldn’t have lied to him about your whereabouts so he knew you were on foot and, thus, couldn’t have gone too far. All he hoped was that he found you quickly and wasn't too late. 

You groaned, already knowing what had happened. The Council already briefed the Jedi that there was an uptick in bounty hunters throughout the galaxy, specifically those targeting the Jedi order. You couldn’t believe you were stupid enough to walk around, unnattentive, through alleyways, at night. The bounty hunter came into your cell and pulled off her mask. Her features were sharp, her face hardened. You looked into her eyes and were met with a predatory gaze. 

“What are you going to do with me?” You almost didn’t want her to answer. 

The woman simply laughed. “Kill you, of course. But why not have a little fun first? I bet you’d look so nice begging for mercy.”

“I’ll die before I beg for anything from you.” You spat.

“I’m sure I can accommodate both of those things, sweetheart.” With that, she grabbed a knife and plunged it into your foot, anchoring it to the floor. 

You bit your lip, tasting blood as you tried not to scream. You clenched your fists, your hands shackled above your head. Your foot felt hot, the crimson blood running down its sides. Just as the pain began to numb, the woman pulled out another blade and slowly cut the bottom of your other foot. 

You screwed your eyes shut, desperately trying not to give in. She laughed at your feeble attempts before bringing the knife down. The force she used pierced through both muscle and bone and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out an involuntary cry.

Your brain was a muddled mess, tears leaking down your face as you willed your pained whimpers to die in your throat. She cut through your pants and into your thighs. With each line she carved, you felt more and more helpless. She made her incisions deep and languidly, as if pulling every ounce of blood from your body. You tried to squirm away from the blade but the twisting movements made the knives dig even deeper into your feet. 

You tried to reach for Anakin, for some reminder that there was peace waiting for you if you could only hold out through this. You faintly felt his force signature. He’s still out there. He’ll come for me, I know he will.

“Ready to beg yet, Jedi?” She cooed, the tip of her knife under your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes. 

Your gaze hardened as you thought of him. She would never take you from him, nothing could tear you and Anakin apart. Your determination remained. She’s not going to break me.

“Never.” Even as the tears ran down your cheeks, even as you felt your grip on the world weakening, you’d never meant a word more than that. 

“We’ll see about that.”

You cried out as her knife cut across your cheek. The sharp sting from the newer and shallower cuts  combined with the throbbing ache in your legs and feet. The sensation and blood loss made you dizzy. Even so, you forced yourself to remain conscious. You’d get through this, you had to. 

Anakin drove his speeder through Coruscant, following a combination of his instincts and the Force to track you down. Every minute, he felt your fear and pain intensify through your Force bond and he grew more and more desperate. By now, he knew you must have been taken by a bounty hunter, there was no other explanation. However, he was occasionally met with a spark of determination and defiance.

He smiled. Whoever had you might be causing you pain, but you definitely weren’t an easy capture. Pride filled him as he thought of your strength. You’d get through this, you had to. Hang on, Y/N, just a little while longer.

The bounty hunter had left the room a few minutes ago, probably frustrated of waiting for you to give in. She’d moved onto cutting through your shirt, your stomach and chest now littered with deep, red, lines. It hurt to breathe, every movement tugging at one of the gashes and causing more blood to ooze out. You were honestly surprised there was still blood left in you to give, as your head felt light and body heavy.

You were so weak, so dizzy that you couldn’t support your own weight anymore, even sitting down. Your head hung down, lolling unimpressively as your neck refused to cooperate. Your mind was swimming and you were delirious, half-convinced you were already dead. 

“Y/N!” 

You used all your energy to lift your head, meeting a pair of beautiful blue eyes that you would recognize anywhere. 

“Anakin,” You breathed out. “Anakin please, help me.” 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He knelt down beside you and you looked at him, immeasurable relief coursing through you. 

He put his hand gently to your cheek, careful to avoid your cuts. “Hold on, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused. “Why aren’t you helping me?”

“Hold on.” The whisper of Anakin’s voice remained in the air as his figure melted away. You screamed in agony, despair clutching at your soul. You desperately looked around, willing the hallucination back to you. Even if it was a cruel trick your fatigued, weak, blood-loss ridden mind created, you wanted him back. 

“Please, Anakin, please come back to me!” You cried. You sobbed, the pain of losing him in any form impossible for you to bear. 

You begged and begged and begged, trying to will him back to you. You screamed and thrashed until your hands wore raw against your restraints, until your cuts had reopened, until your throat was sore and your eyes burned from crying. 

You whimpered out one final plea before your eyes fluttered shut, the fight completely drained from your soul.

Anakin’s heart pounded. He could feel you slipping away, your determination slowly fizzing out. He couldn’t blame you; these bounty hunters were notorious for their torture, for leaving their victims as broken shells before they were killed. He forced the image out of his mind, refusing to think of you in that position. 

Finally, he made it to an abandoned building on the edge of Coruscant. The Force had guided him here and he felt you strongly, or as strongly as he could given your broken state. He jumped out of the speeder and saw a woman twirling a knife, leaning against a wall. 

Igniting the lightsaber, he walked up to her.

“Anakin, I presume?” 

He froze but quickly regained his composure, eyeing her and trying to figure out what her motives were. 

“Don’t fret, young Jedi. They were just calling for you. Quite pathetic if you ask me.”

“If you hurt them I swear-”

The bounty hunter’s lips curled into a bone chilling smile, giving Anakin all the answers he needed. He swung his lightsaber, deflecting her blaster shots with ease. She pulled out two knives and threw one at his middle, making Anakin jump to the side to escape the blade. 

Anakin twirled the saber, once again trying to get traction. She was quick, swinging herself up onto the room of the building by flipping backwards from the balcony. He, however, was quicker. Anakin jumped up gracefully, continuing to spin his weapon and stalk her in this intense, choreographed dance they were engaged in. 

The woman sent her other knife flying at Anakin’s neck and he used his trained reflexes to catch the hilt right before it cut through his skin. Now, it was his turn to smile. He watched as her expression faltered, paying attention to her footing to sense her next move. He followed her, catching up quickly before running the blade through her, barely waiting for her body to drop before bounding off the roof and into the building to find you.

His breath caught as he took you in. Your unconscious body was limp and blood was seeping out of you. He grimaced, seeing the blades running through your feet. As much as he didn’t want you to lose more blood, he needed to remove the knives in order to carry you out of here. Your flesh squelched as he pulled the blade out as evenly as he could and a low whimper escaped your throat. 

“Y/N, Y/N can you hear me?”

“No, no, no, no, no, please, not again!”

“Angel it’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Anakin said, moving to meet your eyes.

“You’re not- this isn’t- no!” You tried to pull yourself away from him, unable to watch this hallucination falter. 

“Y/N, please, let me help you. I need to get you out of here before you lose any more blood.”

“This isn’t real!” You screamed. “Please, stop, this isn’t real! You’re not here, you’re not here, you’re gone, I’m gone, it’s not-” You continued to spew unintelligible words, tears already bubbling up in your throat. 

Anakin caught on to what was happening. “Angel, look at me. I promise I’m here. I’m real, okay? Please believe me.”

“I can’t!” You sobbed. “I can’t let myself hope again!”

“Y/N, okay, okay. Remember that necklace I gave you? It had your home on one side and ours on the other. You left it for me, a token to prove that you were safe when you went for a walk. I think you were angry with me; I was working late because I was guarding Padme, remember? It’s me, I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Despite yourself, you believed him. “Ani.” You said softly, tears coming to your eyes as you allowed yourself to have faith that you would be alright. 

“Yes, my love, it’s Anakin. I need you to be still for me, okay? It’s going to hurt but I need to get us home.”

You nodded, cries escaping you as he pulled the second knife from your foot. Your vision went white, the pain profound. Anakin gently hushed you, hand smoothing down your thigh to comfort you as he worked. He went to your restraints next, releasing your hands and watching as they fell heavily. He caught your body as it wrenched forward, making you gasp as the cuts on your chest came in contact with him.

Anakin apologized quickly, pulling off his robe and wrapping it around your body, your cut clothing offering almost no protection from the cold, nighttime air. He also wanted to help you as your body was clearly going into shock from the trauma.

Anakin placed you in his lap, holding you to him with one hand and driving with the other. For anyone less talented at riding a speeder it would have been precarious. You weakly wrapped your arms around him, too, as best as you could. 

You were in and out of consciousness the whole way back, barely registering how Anakin pulled you up and into his arms, the sway of his walking faster and more desperate than usual. He went into medbay, placing you gingerly on a bed and calling over a medical droid to determine the extent of your injuries.

Noting how empty it was, Anakin took the risk and held your hand. He knew it was dangerous, the fear of getting caught weighing constantly on both your minds. But after he almost lost you, nothing else mattered. 

The droids informed him that you had lost a severe amount of blood, but the cuts themself should heal with time. He breathed a sigh of relief as he realized you would be fine. Anakin begged them to let him take you back to your room, saying that the trauma from the torture would only grow worse if you woke up in an unknown environment. 

They allowed, so long as he made sure you were supervised and rested for at least the next week. He agreed hurriedly before scooping you back up. You groaned at the movement and he whispered a quick apology, trying to get you into your bed as soon as possible. 

He set you down, resting your back against the pillows just as you liked. You were all bandaged up and looked so fragile in your current state, a far cry from what he was used to. He hated it. You were such a skilled Jedi, he sometimes forgot that you were vulnerable, too, and this reality check was immensely painful. 

He watched over you as you slept, refusing to move for hours. Finally, your eyes opened and  you  looked at him blearily. 

“Hi.” You croaked out. 

Anakin’s eyes snapped up to yours, gently laughing from the relief of hearing your voice and its gravelly tone. He floated the cup of water by your nightstand to your mouth while using his other hand to brace your neck, coaxing you into a sitting position so you could easily swallow the liquid.

You hummed your thanks as he slowly set you against the pillows. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner, I should have told the Council I couldn’t do the extra meeting and just come home.”

“No, Anakin, it was your job, I shouldn’t have been upset. I was just jealous, I guess. I saw you and Padme together and,” You trailed off. It felt so unbelievably stupid now. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have left, I shouldn’t have been so careless.”

Anakin’s eyes were understanding. “It’s okay, my love. But you have absolutely nothing to worry about. The only reason I was with Padme for dinner was because the Council assigned me to. No one could make me willingly skip dinner or anything else with you.”

“I know” You said sheepishly.

“I love you, angel. No one even comes close. I promise, I’ll never leave you.”

“I love you too, Ani.” 

He carefully connected his lips with yours, hyper aware of your injuries and not wanting to cause you  any more pain than you’ve already been through. 

“Lie with me?”

Anakin nods as you scoot over. He climbs into bed and allows you to situate yourself. You eventually find a position that doesn’t put strain on your cuts and bruises and you smile, leaning your head against his chest. He gingerly puts his flesh hand around your back, looking at you to see if it’s okay. You nod reassuringly and Anakin lets his arm rest there, fingers gently running through your hair.

“I was so scared, Anakin. I thought I’d never see you again.” You say, breaking the silence.

He looks at you, silently encouraging you to go on, if you so wanted.

“I hallucinated you, you know? I thought you’d come for me. But you told me to hold on and then you disappeared.” Your voice was barely a whisper at the end, tears leaking onto his chest. 

“I’m so sorry.” Those words were all he could give. He spoke them with such meaning and love that you melted. None of this was his fault.

“I love you.” You replied, your words carrying the same intensity as his. 

Anakin brought his metal arm around, too, to further hold you to him. 

“You’re never going to lose me, okay? I will always come for you, I will always protect you. With everything I am, I will always love you.” 

“I know.” Your voice was loving and soft, exhaustion once again pulling at you.

He kissed the top of your head. “Get some sleep, Y/N. You’ll need a lot of it.”

“Hmm?” You questioned tiredly

“They assigned you to at least a week of complete rest.”

“What?!”

“Shhhh, go to sleep, angel.” Anakin chuckled. 

You huffed but nuzzled closer to him. You were too drained to fight it and too happy to finally be back in his arms. Nothing could ruin the moment.

----

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[byrachel]

oh to be seths imprint and attend a wedding and realize how in love we are and dance and have fun and fall in love with life and with each other and sneak away from the wedding and drink champagne and slow dance under the moon at night and look at the sky. I would literally die a happy woman :,(

SETH CLEARWATER THE REST OF OUR LIVES

word count: 1767

summary: when her duties as maid of honor become a little overwhelming, seth takes his girlfriend to a special place to take a break away from her family

warnings: you might experience extreme loneliness because I sure am

note: i already posted about it, but this is such a cute request. this is probably one of the cutest requests i’ve ever gotten. i still want to apologize for taking so long to finish this, because I just wasn’t sure how to approach this. i hope you still enjoy this, anon!

(Y/N) sighed softly, a pained expression replacing the fake smile which had occupied her face the whole day as she finally sat down at her assigned table. She put her hands against her back, softly straightening it to relieve herself from the twisting pain she had from walking around on heels the last few hours. “Should’ve worn flats.” She murmured to herself.

The family members and friends of the bride and groom were surrounding the dance floor of the wedding venue, where they were having their first dance of the night. It was the perfect moment to sneak away, because it was the first moment since the beginning of that stressful wedding day she didn’t have to do anything, but watch her sister and her now husband be happy. 

Even with hurting feet, (Y/N) smiled satisfied as she caught a glimpse of the dancing pair between the figures surrounding them. The soft creme glow of the low hanging lights was reflecting beautifully on her sister’s diamond encrusted dress, just like she had dreamed of. As the maid of honor, (Y/N) made sure she could bring heaven on earth for her sister so she could have her perfect day and seeing her smile, which even gave her butterflies in her stomach, she knew she succeeded. Nothing could ruin her sister’s day.

(Y/N) noticed her almost empty glass of champagne she had left at the edge of the table over three hours ago, showing her how long it had exactly been since she gave her body a rest. It didn’t even look like it had bubbles anymore. She almost wanted to chug the last bit down her throat, too lazy to get herself a new drink. She also wasn’t in the mood to talk to the flirting bartender either. She was slowly going to let her tongue dry out if she had to.

As she finally found a comfortable position to sit in, a pair of familiar hands suddenly found their way to her shoulders, rubbing their thumbs between her shoulder blades. “Hey, pretty lady.” Her boyfriend whispered into her ear, shivers going down her spine as his warm breath gently brushed along her neck. 

“Hey, baby.” Her lips curled up into a soft, relieved smile when she finally felt the one person she was waiting to spend her time with all day. Just like her, he was helping to make sure everything was perfect by being dragged along by her mother. Here and there, she would see him carry things behind the bar or make sure all the equipment was in the right place, secretly craving to be by his side and enjoy this beautiful moment with him. “I missed you today.” 

Although he probably saw her sit down, she felt like Seth didn’t only know when, but also how she needed him. On days she was emotionally drained and just avoided social interaction, he was the only person she could stand being around. He didn’t expect anything from her and just lied silently next to her, rubbing figures into her belly while they cuddled. 

“I would’ve loved to stay with you, but your mom wasn’t letting me out of her sight.” Seth chuckled, letting go of his girlfriend and sitting down on the chair next to her. “She even asked me to dance with her later.” 

(Y/N) cringed, aware of how overbearing her mom could be at times. “I told her to tone it down. I’ll talk--” 

“No, don’t. It’s fine.” Seth laughed, shaking his head. “Let’s just be civil for today, your sister deserves one day without an outburst from her. And it means she likes me, which is a good thing.”

Rolling her eyes at his statement knowing he was right, she quickly nodded in agreement. The last thing they needed was her mom to ruin the last few hours when everything went great so far. 

“But now we’ve both got a few minutes to spare, can I show you something?” Seth held his hand out to his girlfriend which she hesitantly accepted.

With a raised eyebrow, she tilted her head. “Where are you taking me?” 

Instead of telling her, he smiled from ear to ear as he promised her they would be back in time before anyone needed either of them again. Without trying to draw any attention by leaving through a random side door of the venue, (Y/N) looked over her shoulder one last time before they managed to slip away unnoticed. Holding onto her boyfriend’s arm she was able to ignore the pain in the heels of her feet, feeling a slight rush of adrenaline flow through her veins. 

It suddenly felt like they were teenagers again. It brought back a memory of when Seth convinced her to jump out of her window, promising her he would get her back into bed before anyone noticed. Thinking back she asked herself why that was her biggest concern when she was going to risk her limbs by trusting a guy to catch her as she jumped from the second floor. But she did it without a second thought and before she knew two strong arms stopped her from, what could’ve been, a nasty fall and she never doubted him again. 

“Wow.” Was the first thing escaping (Y/N)’s mouth when they ended up at a dock stretched out over a body of water. The full moon shone brightly, hitting the silent streams just right. It looked like tiny diamonds were appearing and disappearing at a rapid pace. She had seen a lot in her years, but she couldn’t have imagined something so simple would take her breath away. 

“I know, right?” Seth agreed calmly, having seen it before as he observed his girlfriend walk to the edge of the dock to get closer to take in the magnificent view. “I found it when I was helping out outside earlier.” 

“It’s beautiful.” She whispered, briefly looking back at him as his arms wrapped around her waist. He rested his chin on top of her shoulder, taking the view in with her as she intertwined her fingers with his on her belly.

Even before they started the day he knew there would be a point her family would start to drive her insane, her mom’s complaining, her sister’s requests, her aunts’ bickering about things not being to their liking. He didn’t know how she kept it together so well, but he could see it was tiring her out. She needed a break and that was exactly what he was trying to give her. He was convinced her family could survive five minutes without her.

But even with that short lived break, he already could tell she wasn’t going to pick up her phone for at least a week once they got home. He already heard himself ask her ‘what’s the excuse this time’ as they came up with something on the spot for when he picked up the phone for her. He didn’t mind though, he would do anything for her. And she knew that. 

As far away as they were, the faded music of her sister’s wedding could be heard. The new melody of the upcoming song caught Seth’s attention and made him pull away from his girlfriend. Left unprepared for the cool summer breeze brushing along her exposed skin, (Y/N) looked back at him to see what he was doing. 

Once again he held his hand out towards her, a soft smile plastered across his face. “Dance with me?” 

Her gaze softened as that same pained smile from before appeared on her face. “I would love to, but my feet feel like they’re going to fall off.” 

Seth rolled his eyes playfully and tilted his head, signaling her to come to him. “C’mere.” 

As much as (Y/N) wanted to reject his offer, she couldn’t say no to those eyes. She did as she was told, approaching her boyfriend who grabbed her hands and gently pressed his smiling lips against her knuckles - earning a giggle from her - before he placed her cold hands around his neck. He pulled her closer to him, their chests touching as he did. 

“Stand on my shoes.” He grinned.

“Okay.” She breathed, finally understanding his plan as she used the balls of your feet to stand on top of his feet. They laughed in unison when it appeared she was even taller than on her heels alone, bringing her face closer to his. 

“Hi.” 

“Hey.” Seth smiled back, lowering his hands down to her lower back. 

Even with his girlfriend standing on top of him he managed to gently sway them to the melody of the music playing in the distance. (Y/N) leaned into his touch, placing her head against his shoulder while she felt Seth’s head resting against hers. Her eyes fluttered closed to take in his warmth and scent of his cologne. She would truly stay in his arms forever if she could. 

“Did I already tell you how beautiful you look today?” Seth broke the comfortable silence between them, his voice much lower than before.

Blood rushed to (Y/N)’s cheeks, the butterflies in her stomach reminding her of their first date. How he managed to make her feel like that every time he was a little too close was still a mystery, but she would never get enough of the feeling. 

“You haven’t actually.” She answered, grinning as her head still rested against his shoulder.

“You, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). . .” His movements were starting to slow down, one of his hands pulling away from her lower back to grab her by the chin. He pushed her face up to meet his gaze and he leaned in slightly leaving a slim space between them. A shaky breath hit his face as he left his girlfriend completely flustered by his actions. “are absolutely gorgeous.” 

Closing the gap between them, Seth gently pressed his lips against hers as both of their eyes closed shut. He did not care about her lipstick rubbing off on him. He was hers after all and he wasn’t afraid to show others that. (Y/N) moved her hand up the back of his head, intertwining her fingers with his long dark locks and pushed him closer to deepen their kiss. 

This wasn’t that kind of love you would have to lose before you realized you had it, it was the kind you felt and realized in the moment. And standing there on that dock with the moon shining down at them, was the moment they realized they would have this love the rest of their lives.

masterlist | not edited

#thaliawritesx #thaliawritesasks #the twilight saga #twilight #twilight imagines #seth clearwater #seth clearwater imagine #seth clearwater fluff #seth clearwater x reader #twilight wolf pack #wolf pack imagine #twilight wolves

[rexlapi]

i know no one who follows me is into genshin bUT im so proud of this au so i’ll post it anyways

moongod!zhonglixmotal!childe, chang’e/hou’yi au (no previous knowledge of the mid autumn festival is needed, hopefully i explained it well enough in the fic)

am i yours?

rating: teen for inexplicit self harm  wc: 2k

ao3

- -

It had only been a century since the god of the moon, known to the people as Morax, had first come to the barren rock he would soon have to call home. He had no emotional attachment to the place, however he had no other place to call home. Too many years since the man who had once been Zhongli had last seen his love, too long since he had known happiness. 

The earth was rising into view from his palace on the moon, the blue waters always reminding him of his lover’s bright eyes. Zhongli stood on the cold stone floor, staring out into the distance. It was the anniversary of the day when Zhongli had first ascended to yue, a day many mortals celebrated, offering him yuebing, or mooncakes, in hopes that he would bless their families. Every year, he found it in himself to smile upon those who still remembered his story, hoping that one day, his good would come back to him in the form of the one he loved. But of course, the world was a cruel place, leaving the immortal nothing but a barren rock to live his sad eternity on. 

Despite the people’s celebratory gifts, this day was always one of sorrow for Morax. He had only experienced a few decades of imprisonment on this rock, yet somehow Zhongli felt so, so very old. This day only ever reminded him of what he’s lost, of what he will never have again. To be fair, almost everything reminded him of his Tartaglia, from the waters of earth to the orange of the sun. More than anything, these things reminded him of his biggest mistake.

There was nothing in this that the moon god regretted more than his reckless action that got him stuck on this barren rock, never to see the face of the one he loved again. 

The day that ruined Zhongli’s life had been a beautiful day, one of the most beautiful days he had ever seen. The skies were a vibrant blue, streaks of puffy white clouds dotted throughout the sea of blue, the sunlight warm and bright. He had planned on proposing to Tartaglia that day He had everything prepared, an elaborate basket of luxurious gifts for the other man’s family, as well as a lovingly self-crafted pair of matching dangly earrings, for each of them. Zhongli unconsciously brushed his hand over his ear, toying with the rare orange jade bead at the end of his. 

He had been waiting for Tartaglia to return home from an assignment when one of his own students had broken into his house, looking for the small potion of immortality Tartaglia had received for shooting the excess suns out of the sky. His Tartaglia had always been an adept warrior, being proficient in nearly every weapon. Zhongli smiled to himself, wishing he could see the way Tartaglia bounced on his toes before every right, his face stretched into a broad grin, ready for the rush of adrenaline that every fight gave him. 

Zhongli had always loved teaching, wanting to impart his knowledge and wisdom on the next generation of bright minds. He would never forget the look of horror his student wore when Zhongli angrily shoved a spear through their stomach, snatching the elixir out of weakening hands and downing it in one gulp. It wasn’t until Tartaglia returned home shortly after the incident when Zhongli realized what he had done. He remembered how Tartaglia’s eyes had widened, his voice calling out for him, but Zhongli could already feel himself floating away, becoming weightless, as if he had become a spirit. The distraught cries from his love that morphed into sobs, calling his name, begging him to stay, telling him he loved him These cries would forever ingrain themselves into his memory. The elixir would have let them be happy and together forever. Instead, it separated the two of them for the rest of time.

Every year on this day, he would talk into the sky, hoping that maybe, one day, Tartaglia would hear him. Hoping that maybe one day he could see him smile, hear him laugh again. This year was no different. Zhongli busied himself in the kitchen, preparing some of Tartaglia’s favorite foods. He would eat a bite of each dish before leaving the rest as offerings to whatever greater powers lay above him, asking them for mercy, for freedom for this barren rock. Though, behind all of these, he would always ask to see his love, one last time. 

Please, Celestia. This is all I can offer for you. Please, I’d like a way off this rock, freedom from my past mistakes. He looked off into the distance, at the painting he had done of Tartaglia. Please, I’d like to see Tartaglia again. Please.

Years like this one passed. Years became decades, and decades became centuries. Time passed quickly for the immortal, and though it may pass fast, it had no end. Every year, Morax asked the same things of Celestia. Every year, he received no response. He had grown so very tired. 

On his 8880th mid-autumn festival, he awoke to see a sharp periwinkle dagger wrapped in silver silks sitting on the edge of his bed. He carefully unwrapped the fabric to reveal a beautifully carved glaze lily embedded on the handle. A small piece of paper fell out of the wraps, peaking Zhongli’s interest. He carefully set the dagger down onto his bed, picking up the small slip. 

A note, written in elegant, looping, traditional Liyuen. It read: Morax, your prayers have been heard. Celestia sends its regards as well as apologies for taking so long to process your request. Take this dagger as the key to the next journey in your life, where the one you love is waiting. It has been enchanted so there will be no pain. However, if you decide to take this chance, do know that it is irreversible. Do as you wish with it, take the chance or do not. 

I hope you find your peace, Zhongli.

The note was not signed, but somehow Zhongli felt as though he knew the person who had written the note. “Thank you.” he croaked out, his voice rough from lack of use. His hands shaking, he picked up the dagger once more. It was the perfect weight, a perfect balance of light yet solid. It had been, well, ever since he had come onto this rock since he had held a weapon. Not a weapon, a key. A chance. Hope. 

He took a walk around the empty palace where he had lived in solitude for thousands of years, as if saying goodbye. It was a goodbye he was happy to say. He retrieved the hand carved wooden box containing his most prized possession from it’s secret location, securing it in his pocket. He carefully rolled up the scroll containing the image of a smiling Tartaglia and slipping that into another pocket, scared that if he did see Tartaglia again, that Zhongli wouldn’t be able to recognize him. 

He stared down at the dagger in his hands, his fingers curling around the elegant glaze lily. He felt his grip grow tighter, then he felt his hands start to shake. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. He was ready to leave this barren place behind. I will see you again, Tartaglia.

As promised, the blade brought him no pain. 

... 

Zhongli opened his eyes to see an ethereal forest, the trees not quite opaque, as if they weren’t quite there. He looked down to see the beautiful blade that had been gifted to him stained with golden blood. He wasn’t bothered by the golden blood, for it was the blood of immortals after all. He was however, awed by the trees he saw. He hadn’t seen vegetation in what felt like years, not having to eat food in order to sustain himself after ascending to godhood, saving human food for very special occasions. 

He looked around, though he didn’t see anyone. Where the one you love is waiting, the note had said. Zhongli wandered around the forest for what felt like days, looking for a head of bright orange hair or a pair of deep ocean eyes. He saw neither. Had the sender lied? He couldn’t help but lose a little bit of hope, though wherever he was now was still certainly better than the hellhole of a rock he had resided on for millennia. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, feeling more and more energetic by the moment. 

Say something. His brain told him. He was running out of options, so he did as his inner monologue asked. Clearing his throat, he recalled the song he would sing to his Tartaglia. Humming the first few lines to get warmed up, his hope growing with every beat. 

“Xu ni sheng shi shi, wu jue qu de ai,” His voice shook as he switched from his native Liyuen to lover’s Snezhnayan. “Always and forever, in this heart of mine…” The forest was silent. Zhongli felt his heart shatter, not wanting to accept that he really would never see his Tartaglia again. He knelt on the ground, his hand clutching the blade of the dagger, a cascade of golden blood dripping onto his spotless black-gold hanfu. He wished he could feel the sharp pain of the cold blade biting into his skin. 

“Xu ni sheng sheng shi shi, wu jue qu de ai,” 

Zhongli had never stood faster in his entire life, the dagger falling to the ground, forgotten. His eyes widened as the familiar face of his beloved appeared from behind a tree. He stood stunned. The sender didn’t lie.

The sun seemed to illuminate the younger boy, his orange hair glowing golden, his typical gray ensemble billowing in the breeze. Zhongli had never seen such a beautiful sight in his thousands of years of existence. “Always and forever, in this heart of mine… longer than the heavens, and the stars that shine…”

Zhongli and Tartaglia both rushed forward at the same time, the orange haired boy taking the other’s bleeding hand in his, while Zhongli gently placed his uninjured hand on his lover’s face. “Xiang si qing nan nai, yuan yu ni tong zai,”

They both broke out into smiles filled with grief and disbelief, their voices shaking as they finished the verse together. “I am yours, I am yours, forever”

Collapsing into the other man, Zhongli let himself cry. “Tartaglia I-”

He felt strong arms hug him tighter, only making Zhongli sob harder. “Shh it’s okay, I’m here now. You’re here now.” Tartaglia had begun to cry too, having fallen to the ground with Zhongli, the two a tangle of limbs and tears. 

“I love you so much.” Zhongli choked out, letting more and more of his years and years of pain and loneliness fade away with every moment in the other boy’s arms. 

Tartaglia kissed Zhongli through teary eyes, trying to convey the words he couldn’t say in the action. “I’ve never stopped loving you, even after all these years. I love you, Zhongli. So much. Please, don’t be an idiot again and cause us another eight-thousand years of separation. I don’t think I can go through that again.”

Zhongli laughed through a sob, placing a kiss on Tartaglia’s cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” He pulled out the box he had carried around with him since he had been banished to the moon. Carefully, he pulled out the other earring he had crafted all those years ago, the same shape and pattern as the singular one Zhongli himself wore. “Tartaglia, would you be mine forever?”

“Only if you’re mine forever" He responded, the biggest shit-eatting grin on his face. 

Zhongli nodded solemnly, completely serious in his consideration of the agreement. “That is a fair contract.”

Tartaglia laughed before kissing Zhongli again. “It was a joke, of course I’ll be yours.”

He dipped his head down, allowing Zhongli to attach the earring to his ear. Perfect. Zhongli couldn’t help but think. The blue jade matched his eyes perfectly, just as Zhongli’s earring matched his own amber eyes. “Forever?”

“Forever."

~~~~~~~~~~

Xu ni sheng shi shi, wu jue qu de ai -> Let your love live forever,

Xiang si qing nan nai, yuan yu ni tong zai -> Love-sickness is unbearable, I wish I were with you

#mine* #IVE NEVER BEEN PROUDER OF MY WORD VOMIT BRAIN #NE VER #im actually in love with my own writing? who could've known #anyways if you enjoyed mayahps a comment or reblog? #genshin impact #chili #zhongzi #childe x zhongli #zhongli x childe #zhongchi

[snowflake-of-destruction]

Art credit @shaky-mayhemm circa late April 2020

On the first day of Shaky, my true love got from me....ONE TRUE PAIRING

Dear Shaky,

This is the first piece of art you ever sent me. You asked me to write a caption, and I balked. I was flattered, but I was so intimidated when I saw that crown on Axel's chest. How could I ever write something for your Destiny Kingdom AU? It was your baby. I can't get it wrong. I can do anything else but not that. 

I...still worry about that, but I thought this was a nice full circle move. Thank you for your faith and your friendship. Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it. Eleven more days to come.

I tried to link to posts of yours I referenced, so others could reference, but I probably missed some

How We Lie

It should have been the most beautiful sunset they'd ever witnessed. Thematically, it would have been satisfying. Their lives were melodrama, the setting was rude not to cooperate and leave them with a final perfect memory to hold onto when the light died completely. Instead, in nights ahead, Axel would be left with the image of a bead of melting ice cream slowly rolling down the side of the untouched bar Roxas held in slightly twitching hands that raced the fat tear carving a shining path that reflected the red-orange light down the duke's cheek. Axel longed to halt the progress of the latter with a swipe of a thumb, and rub it out of existence between glove clad fingers, but he knew that wouldn't take away the sadness that had caused it in the first place. Axel had that power too, technically, he supposed, though to change the course he had committed to now, might cause him to be the one to cry next, and Axel still was selfish enough to want to avoid that.

I can't lose you. I wouldn't survive it. Don't you see that? 

"You promised you wouldn't cry." A royal guard should have enough decorum not to call attention to the duke's lapse in stoicism when it was clear Roxas would not appreciate attention being brought to it. Then again, Axel and Roxas had never been typical guard and royal charge. The tear splashed on the stone of the palace roof just as the ice cream drip splattered onto the webbing between Roxas's thumb and forefinger. Now Axel longed to take Roxas's hand, bring it to his lips, suck away the salty-sweet cream while looking into those lapis eyes he loved so much, maybe take one or two of Roxas's fingers next, swirl his tongue around and up and down the length until his beloved showed he'd forgot his grief and allowed Axel to make up for any offense he caused in one of the only ways of communication he considered himself good at since words constantly failed him. 

"You promised you wouldn't leave," the duke countered, voice thick and warbling, and whether the cause was repressed anger or more oncoming tears and pleas to call his mission off, Axel knew it wouldn't be handled by simple distraction.

"It wouldn't be the first time we broke our promises, now would it?" Axel surprised himself with his own harshness as he gripped his own neglected sea salt ice cream more tightly, though the bitterness was largely aimed inward. He had broken far more promises to Roxas than the reverse had happened. So far he hadn't broken the most important. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe even at the cost of my own life. And he didn't plan on breaking it now. "But I can vow it's the last time I'll break a promise."

"Don't lie to me, not now," Roxas breathed, the sentence seeming to drain the last of his strength. His ice cream was losing its form more quickly now, balance tipped, keeping up its sympathy with the duke about to unravel.  

"I'm not." The words were said firmly, but Axel didn't dare look at Roxas. 

How could he not understand? He grew weaker by the day and Axel was the one in pain. Naminé said she was doing the best she could, but it wasn't good enough. Whatever she was doing didn't even seem to be helping, and Axel had his doubts the witch was even trying. He'd told Kairi, who was going to be filling in for him as Roxas's guard while he was away, to keep a close eye on her. Kairi had assured him that she knew how to deal with Naminé, a hardness in her eye so chilling--though not out of character--that Axel knew he'd selected the right musketeer. 

"Bind the vow with magic." Wisps of darkness escaped Roxas's mouth, but Axel's mind would have explained it away even if he'd been looking. He was acutely attuned to Roxas's fatigue, the way his ribs had started to jut out, the way he winced at bright light, and other distressing signs of the strain that had been placed on him since Chernabog had begun to call for him, but the guard refused to see the darkness in his love. 

"Do you need that?" Axel wouldn't judge if he did. Anything for Roxas. He could hardly remember the day when he had seen being assigned to what he'd called the dumb nugget foundlings when King Mickey had welcomed them into the palace. For as long as had mattered, Axel had viewed that just as Prince Sora had been said to have been formed from clouds, Roxas must have been formed from the blood of Axel's veins, wished into existence from the dreams of his mind, born to love and be loved by him. No sentiment so poetic-and so cloyingly sentimental-- had ever been voiced by Axel though. They fell apart when he tried to make them take form. It's what he meant when he said Ba, you're the best though, and he thought they both knew it. Maybe he should make sure before he left though, if he could and it wouldn't sound too much like I'm sorry I won't be back. I'm sorry that this will end the same as when Riku left. I'm sorry that I can't think of anything more practical than let's send the best warriors in the kingdom throwing themselves one at a time on fate's knife. I can't think straight at all when it comes to you. I should have stepped down long ago when I became so compromised, but we'd be in the same place now. I need to go. If there's even a chance at a solution, I have to try and find it. I can't wait. I can't stay and hold you through the worst because I need it to get better now.

"No." Roxas didn't sound sure, or at least he didn't sound happy.

When Axel said he would break no more promises, it was the truth, not even just in intention, but raw fated truth. No more promises would be broken. There would be no more opportunity.

"I'll come back safe."

It was a lie. They both knew it. It was easy to lie until the lies racked up.

I'll take every precaution even if it slows me down.

I'll take soldiers with me, or recruit hired blades in the next town at least if I think Goofy wouldn't be able to spare men.

I'll turn back if my search takes me into a threat I know I can't handle on my own.

I won't try to take on Chernabog by myself.

One day, I'm going to be the third keyblade master in history to survive using Serenity form.

I'll come home

Everything will be alright.

Stories like ours have happy endings.

The sun disappeared over the horizon more quickly than either Roxas or Axel expected. The red light didn't linger. Red had a long way to travel and it couldn't delay today.

#destiny kingdom au #shaky mayhemm #akuroku

[one-shot-plus-size]

Crossbow Love - Chapter Three - The Conversation

The work was created, through collaboration @bladeroseocrp​ https://www.wattpad.com/user/BladeRose_18

Daryl sits on the steps smoking a cigarette, his arms are covered in grease from his motorcycle. He turns his head slightly when he hears footsteps behind him. "Did you get some sleep?" He asks. Blade looks down at him and shrugs her shoulders "I got some sleep" She says leaning against the post next to the stairs she looks out into the community seeing people walking by. Daryl hums a confirmation under his breath and takes a drag of his cigarette. She looks at the people looking at her, someone new to Alexandria. Someone who has stopped by the archer’s house for the first time. Blade lays her head on the post leaning against it. "Have you been sleeping, Daryl?" She asks as she is very curious about him and wants to know who he is. Who is Daryl Dixon?  “No," He mutters under his breath, "I took care of the motorcycle, finally got it fixed." He says as he looks at her and takes another look at her appearance. "I'm going hunting tomorrow morning, I'll be gone for a few hours." He says.

Blade looked at him and nodded "Okay cool...can I come with you?" She asks as she knows how to hunt and track, she has survived in the woods for 18 years. "If you don't mind," He says as he looks at her and she can see the merriment in his eyes. Blade smiles and giggles. "I would like to join you. Plus I want to help your group in any way I can. You might as well have two hunters there to find supplies and food." She says sitting down next to him on the step. "I am not being replaced." He says as he pokes her lightly with his shoulder. "It will be nice to hunt with someone when you rest, I will talk to Rick to get you permanently assigned to me if you want of course. I'm not forcing you to do anything..." He says. Daryl's tongue begins to wander senselessly. Blade smiles and pokes him lightly in the shoulder. "Of course I would like to hunt with you. I feel more comfortable when I'm around you. I know you say it's safe here, but I don't trust anyone but you right now. I don't want to stay behind these walls too long, I know I've been out there for years, but I don't want to forget how to survive." She says staring into his eyes, smiling.

Daryl nods slightly, his cheeks blushing and he hopes she doesn't notice it. "I'm glad you trust me." He says as he nods slightly. Daryl wants to ask about her past but knows he shouldn't, he compares her to a scared animal locked in a cage. Blade smiles poke him and look into his eyes. "Maybe on tomorrow's trip, we can get to know each other better." She says smiling. she needs to open up, she can't go on like this, she needs to share her life story with someone. "When we are outside the walls we will hunt, I need to feed Alexandria. I need to find meat." He says not taking his eyes off her. "We have to work out there. when we get back home we can talk." Blade says as she smiles and nods "I see." He says looking down, having his hands together in his lap. She needs to know who he is. "You said home," He says smiling slightly, "You mean you want to stay?" He asks her. Blade smiles and nods. "Yeah, I think I should stay and try," She says. Daryl nods shyly, puts out his cigarette, and crushes it with his foot. "Time for bed, we're leaving at dawn." He says as he stands up.

Blade doesn't know if she'll be able to sleep yet after dreaming a nightmare all night, but she has to at least try to sleep. Daryl gets up the stairs and moves towards the door. "If there's anything going on or if you need anything, I'm downstairs." He says. Blade nods, getting up and just looking around, wondering how this place stayed untouched. Daryl goes inside and heads to his basement. He sits down on his bed, slips his shoes off his feet, and drags himself hard. He hears the woman's quiet footsteps above him, smiles slightly to himself, and his hand automatically touches the cheek where she kissed him. Blade enters the house, looks around, pulls knives out of her backpack, and starts sharpening them for tomorrow. She sits down on the couch and sharpens them while she begins to think. Daryl settles down on the bed after taking off his pants and shirt, wraps the blanket around his waist, and stares at the ceiling. And finally, sleep comes to him. Blade starts thinking about Daryl and smiles, thinking about how he makes her smile and makes her feel safe and want to live. Sharpening her knives, she puts them down on the table and lies back on the couch. At the same time, Carol stands in the window of her house (across from Daryl) thinking about the new woman brought to Alexandria. She analyzes her appearance and the behavior she saw when she ran into Daryl. The fact that she is living with Daryl is a shock to her, though somewhere deep down she is glad to have met someone she gets along with. 

Blade gets up and walks around the house, looking for maybe something to tell her what Daryl has been through or who he is as a person. All she knows is that he is handsome, mysterious, caring, and sweet. The house is tidy, with no unnecessary items, several unfinished arrows lie on the coffee table. On the wall by the stairs leading to the second floor hangs several pictures drawn by a child. Blade sees the drawing and smiles, she sees the arrows and sits down at the counter and begins to finish making them for Daryl, She knows he would like more arrows for his crossbow. She actually feels like she is being helpful and useful for once in her life. 

Daryl wakes up as his dream turns into a nightmare, he rolls out of bed and wipes his face with his hand. Breathing heavily, he slides his feet to the ground and stares at the ground. Blade sits at the counter, she gets up to take a little break and grabs some ice-cold water, takes a sip, and sees the many arrows she has made. she grabs her crossbow and looks at it again. Daryl slips on a t-shirt and sweatpants, when he hears movement upstairs he moves upstairs. He meets Blade at the kitchen table, who is leaning with her shoulder against the door frame. "You were supposed to be sleeping." He says walking past her to the sink. Blade looks up at him and shakes her head. "I know I wasn't able to sleep after...never mind. I wanted to help you finish making the arrow and I need to make sure all my weapons are ready today. And I thought you were going to get some sleep?"She asks staring at him. "After what?" He asks as he turns to face her and leans his butt against the cabinets. He sips water from the glass he holds in his hand. Blade sighs and shrugs her shoulders. "It's just nightmares, that's all." She says simply, knowing that eventually, she has to stop hiding and just talk to the man. "I have them too." He mutters under his breath and sits down across from her.

He plays with the glass in his hand and stares at the edge of the table. He feels the woman's presence but doesn't raise his eyes, the subject of nightmares and his past has always been difficult for him. Blade looks him in the eyes and takes a sip of her water. "What are your nightmares about?" She asks. "The things I should forget." He says as he lifts his gaze and looks into her eyes "Something that is in the past and still haunts me" He snorts under his breath. Blade stares into his eyes and nods. "I have the same kind of nightmares. My past has haunted me forever" She says. "You can't let yourself be consumed by your past, I know it's hard. But it can be done" He says smiling reassuringly. 

Blade looks at him and wrinkles her brow. "Not if your first kills in this world were the people who you were supposed to trust and protect you, almost killing you every day," She says softly, looking down, holding her shoulders, and holding herself close. "Who hurt you?" He asks as he clenches his hands into fists. Blade notices his concern, knowing that no one has ever cared for her. "My parents were alcoholics and drug addicts, and I was born by accident," She says quietly, tearing up slightly.

Daryl clenches his eyes tight, breathes through his nose, and looks at her. He's reminded of his father, who didn't care about him and his brother, how it was when Merle went to prison. Blade looks up at him. "Daryl, are you okay?" She asks, extending her hand across the counter. Hopefully, her past is making him break free from his past. "Sorry," He says shaking his head, slightly tense at her touch. "People like your parents and people like my father should never have children." He says. Blade looks down and shrugs her shoulders. "I know why to have a child if all you're going to do is hurt them and torture them for life. I'm sorry I caused something for you, Daryl," She says looking down. "Hey," He says as he touches her hand. "It's not your fault your elders were fucked up, but they're gone now." He seeks her gaze. 

Blade looks down at his hand, doesn't flinch, and smiles slightly. "They were the first two people I killed when this apocalypse started." She says softly gazing into his eyes. Blade kept thinking back to that day, seeing them stoned and drunk to unconsciousness, not knowing what the world was like. She knew she had suffered their torment for far too long. She knew that her own father had raped her and her mother had thrown empty beer bottles at her. Daryl notices a change in her behavior, sees her approaching him. "Hey, why don't we take a walk around Alexandria, get some air." He says trying to get her attention. Blade looks up at him and smiles softly. "Sure, some fresh air would be nice." She says softly, hugging herself tightly knowing she could use a hug but never had the kindness or tenderness towards her. She only knows what it feels like to hug herself. "So come on." He says smiling at her.

He rises from his seat, reaching out to her and waiting for her to grab it so they can go outside. Blade smiles, grabs his hands and starts walking beside him to go outside. She blushes softly and looks up at the night sky breathing deeply. Daryl intertwined his fingers with hers and smiled to himself. He knows he has to be supportive of her and has to overcome his shyness with women. His body tenses slightly and he looks around, but luckily he doesn't see anyone. "In the house across the street, Carol lives with Tara and Denise. Denise is our doctor, we'll meet later at their place." He says as he looks at her. Blade looks at him and nods. "Look Daryl, I know I shouldn't hide anymore. But knowing my past, I don't think you would care or just abandon me. At least that's what I'm used to." She says holding his hand tightly, not wanting to let go because if she does, he might disappear like it was just a dream. 

Daryl stops and stands in front of her. "Blade, no one will ever leave you again, no one will ever hurt you again. I won't let that happen, do you understand? You are our family now, my group is your group now, and Alexandria is your home."  He says. Blade looks up into his eyes as she smiles and tears up, looking down as her hair covers her face. She felt so happy and relieved to finally have a group, an actually caring family that gives a shit about her, especially Daryl. "You don't have to fight alone anymore, give these people some time to get to know you, if something goes wrong you have to come to me right?" He says as he feels he has to protect the woman standing in front of him, that she deserves better than what the world has given her. Blade nods and looks into his eyes, tears streaming down her face, and embraces Daryl. The first positive human contact she's had in her life makes her feel better.

Daryl tenses under her embrace, not really knowing what to do with himself. He embraces her gently around the waist and presses her against his body, resting his head on hers and looking towards Carol's house. The curtain in the window is moving, Daryl's eyes already pausing to imagine in his head how Carol will catch up with him during the day. Blade covers her face with his chest, feeling her flinch, knowing that he isn't used to this kind of contact either, but she needs someone to hug her and tell her that everything is okay and that for once in her life it will be okay. This man saved her life. With each passing moment, his body relaxes. "Come on, let's take a walk." He says. Blade smiles and steps back then continues walking beside him with her arms crossed over her chest. "Thank you Daryl for being here for me. You practically saved me from myself," She says. "I'm not going to be your therapist." He says as he pokes her shoulder and smiles slightly "I'm not known for that around here." He says. Blade smiles and pokes him back. "I know, but you understand and you wouldn't judge me or say 'how does that make you feel’ bullshit.” She says. "Believe me you'll never hear that from me, I went through hell myself as a kid and I know what it means. I know how you feel, I know you need someone to be there for you, to listen to you, or to hug you. If you want the latter, I suggest you go to Tara or Carol, I'm not used to that," He says smiling shyly, his cheeks reddening slightly.

Blade smiles softly and looks at him sadly, knowing she prefers to talk to him and cuddle with him. I know he's not used to it, but he'd get used to it with her. Daryl took a deep breath and wondered for a long moment if he should tell her the truth. "I was nobody." He whispered and lowered his head. He had always been a nobody, in his town Dixon meant trash. Nobody ever mattered to them, Merle was still in jail as soon as he came of age. Blade looked at him and put her hand on his shoulder. "You're somebody now, Daryl. I may not know what your life was like before this world. You're somebody now." She says. He shakes his head negatively. "I was a nobody and I still am. From the very beginning, I hung out with my brother, who was no angel. The Dixons in my town were nobodies." He said, raising his head and looking up at the stars: "Now if it weren't for me bringing them food, I'd still be a nobody." He says. Blade furrowed her brow and looked at him, she placed her hand on his cheek and stared into his eyes. "Well, Daryl Dixon you are someone to me. You saved me and I'm glad you did. I would have never survived out there." She says holding his hand with her other hand. 

Daryl stares into her eyes, unable to take his eyes off of hers. He smiles softly and nods almost imperceptibly. "Thanks." Blade smiles and hugs him laying her head on his chest hearing his rapid heartbeat and giggles softly and blushes. "No Daryl, thank you," She says. Daryl moves closer to her and puts his arm around her, his hand resting on her waist. "And what were you doing before all this?" He asks her. Blade looks into his eyes, blushes, and shrugs her shoulders. "Same as you, Daryl Dixon. I ran away from home at seventeen. And that's when the apocalypse started." She says. Daryl hums quietly under his breath and smiles at her. He returns his gaze to the stars and tries to calm his heartbeat. He shouldn’t feel stressed around her, but he feels better every moment. He looks towards the gate when he hears the commotion on the guard, his body immediately tenses up.

#daryl dixon #dary & oc #RP #TWD #The Walking Dead #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine

[marq922]

Quarantined with Him.

Summary: With COVID-19 hitting all parts of the country, Team Flash has decided that it’s safest that they stick together, and live 

Warnings: Slight profanity.

Primary pairs: WestAllen, Harrisco, Jecile

Canon/Head: Headcanon

Insight: So initially this was meant to be a fanfic written by a prompt that @catvampcrazines really wanted to see, which was Harrisco being sleep deprived and goofy AF. Tumblr, being the shitshow that it is won't even let me post the entire first part that I have now, so this is going to have a lot more parts than I intended it to. I do apologize for taking so long with writing this, but when covid-19 hit, it gave me the perfect timing and the perfect excuse to get all of Team Flash together to experience Harrisco's weirdness. Anyways, enjoy!

     The members of Team Flash were dispersed throughout the Cortex at S.T.A.R Labs when Joe had entered the room. Iris and Cisco sat at the monitors while Harry hovered behind them, clicking on his pen anxiously as they watched Barry run through the streets of Central City. Caitlin sat at the desk just outside of the medical bay, going over some new material put put by a few of her friends from medical school.      “Turn on the news,” Joe said, worry written all over his face. Everyone turned their attention towards the new presence, puzzled at his expression.       “Dad, is something wrong?” Iris asked, turning her chair in his direction.      “You guys haven’t heard?” Joe asked, his eyes looked to each person. “Central City is closing off all borders because of this whole virus thing.”      “Again with this virus?” Harry groaned. He had been back on Earth-1 since December, when the first case was made public. Every time he heard the name of the virus it always seemed like bad news.     “Got it,” Cisco called out. He hit a button on his keyboard, and just like that live-footage from Central City News was projected onto the main monitor.     “Fast breaking developments in the Coronavirus emergency in the U.S. and around the world. The number of cases soaring just today. More than 700 thousand nation-wide. To decrease the risk of infection, Mayor Van Buren has just announced that Central City is now officially under lockdown. Starting today, no one is allowed to leave or enter the city…”     “Well, it seems like your Earth is no longer safe to stay on,” Harry crossed his arms against his chest. “I guess I should be heading home soon.”     Cisco immediately looked up to Harry. “Do you have to make comments like that?” Though his tone was rather crabby, his eyes screamed ‘don’t leave me’.     Harry’s icy orbs met Cisco’s gaze. The older male clicked his tongue, knowing he had struck worry into the other. “Oh, come on now,” he placed a hand on the meta’s shoulder, his thumb gently tracing the seam of Cisco's sleeve.      "You always do this," Cisco moved his shoulder away from Harry's hand.     "I—"     “Has Earth-2 seen anything like this?” Caitlin intervened in the small quarrel between the couple.      Harry shook his head, “No, and again, my Earth is very much ahead of yours. I’m sure if anything like this was to even appear on my Earth, it would’ve been taken care of like,” he snapped his fingers, purposely right next to Cisco’s ear just to have his eyes on him again.      “Either way,” Joe started, “This isn’t looking good at all. Are you guys sure it’s safe to have Barry still running out there?” he asked.     “I could always make him a respirator to go with his suit,” Cisco said.     “...along with temporarily closing down non-essential businesses, Mayor Buren has also announced a curfew at 9’oclock p.m. for all citizens of Central City. Yes, Flash, this includes you.”     “Problem solved,” Iris looked back to Joe.      “Criminals  don’t care about curfews,” Joe replied. “I’m just trying to make sure you guys stay safe,” he looked to everyone in the room. “Last thing we need is any one of us getting this thing.”      “We’ll be fine, Dad,” Iris grabbed Joe’s hand, squeezing it gently as if she could transfer all of his negative feelings to her. “I’ll talk to Barry once he comes back, and then we can all decide what happens then.”     “If worst comes to worst, we just all stay here.” Caitlin pointed out. “We’re here everyday as it is.”     “Yeah,” Iris agreed. “I can always do my work in the lounge  while Team Flash is doing its thing.”     “That could actually work,” Cisco said, gliding his tongue over his lips after taking a sip of his coffee. “We still have a few empty rooms that we could just set up some beds in,”     “I’m the one that actually lives here, do I get a say in this?” Harry asked.     “No.” Everyone responded.     Harry rolled his eyes at their response. “Fine, but don’t go touching my rum,” he looked to Caitlin.     “What? I never—” “Not you, I’m talking about Frost. Last time I was here, she drank all my whiskey without telling me,” he said.     “Was it the honey flavored one?” Cisco asked.     “Yes,” Harry hissed.      “Ooh,” Cisco sucked his teeth. “Bad call, Frosty,” he said to Caitlin.     “Guys—” Barry interrupted through the comms, “are you guys really discussing staying at S.T.A.R. Labs right after Iris said you guys would wait for me to come back?”     “Decision has been made, Barry. Suck it up,” Cisco called out.     “Since when?” Harry said, looking down at the younger male.     “Just now. I did it,” Cisco affirmed “What? You have something to say?” Cisco asked, ready to retaliate any nonsense that could possibly come out of Harry's mouth.      “Whatever the hell y’all do, just let me know, okay?” Joe said.“I’m gonna go make some calls, see if I can get a hold of Cecile. See you later, baby,” Joe leaned down, giving Iris a kiss on the cheek. “Stay safe,” he said to the rest, giving Harry a pat on the shoulder before exiting.      Taking it upon himself to decide that Team Flash would be staying at S.T.A.R Labs, Cisco and Iris had also taken the time and thought of how things would run during the entire situation. He pulled over the drawing board and assigned everyone a certain task to do during the days of the week.      “...and because we can’t live off of just coffee and candy, this coming Saturday, Barry and I will go out for a grocery run,” he said looking at all of them.      “Sounds like a plan,” Barry nodded before leaning his head down and resting his chin on his wife’s shoulder.     “What about me?” Harry asked, his arms held snug against his torso. “I’m not assigned anything.”     “You can’t even leave the building, Harry. What makes you think I’d put you up here?” Cisco asked, playing with the marker cap.      “Well, I live here,” Harry shrugged. “Something is better than nothing.”     “Fine, fine,” Cisco turned back to the board and wrote ‘mi cama.’     Harry’s cheeks burned with a shade of red once reading his task. “Stupid,” he muttered under his breath, looking to the ground to hide his smirk.      “Oh God, Cisco,” Iris laughed when she read the addition. “Take that down.” “Fine, but I give you props for being the only one to read it,” he chuckled, erasing what he had just written down and changing Harry’s duty to ‘trash.’ “There, you’re on trash duty.”      Barry laughed, “Doodie.”     “You gave me trash?” Harry asked, approaching the board. “You’re really giving me trash?”     “Are you 12?” Cisco asked Barry, rolling his eyes before he turned to Harry. “You said give to you something, so I gave you something that you can actually do. You’re doing trash.”     “You’re trash.” Harry spat, looking down at him.     “No, you’re trash.” Cisco tapped the tip of the marker against Harry’s chest with each word spoken.     “You wish I was trash,” Harry snatched the marker from Cisco’s hand.     “Har—”     “Anyways,” Caitlin interrupted, “How about we go get something cooked up right now?”     “Yes please,” Barry said, “I’m starving,” he grabbed Iris’ hand then started to pull her towards the exit.      “What should we make?” Cisco asked.     “You guys decide,” Iris said, “Barry and I are gonna go set up our room.”     “Liars,” Harry called out as they walked out.     “I could really go for some of your lasagna right now, Cisco,” Caitlin said.     “You’ve made her lasagna?” Harry asked. “After all the times I’ve asked you to co—”     “Settle down, long legs” Cisco patted Harry's chest. “You guys want to help me make it?” he asked.      Caitlin shook her head as she too walked towards the exit, “I’m going to work on my room as well,” she told them, “make it a little more snug,” then disappeared into the hallway.     “What about you?” Cisco looked at Harry.     “Do you want me to?” Harry asked.      Cisco gestured for the other to tag along. “Come on,”

    Surprisingly, Harry had completed everything requested of him without any opposition. When given the chance, he would use that time to get Cisco’s attention and ask him if he was doing whatever he was told to correctly, correctly meaning Cisco’s definition of correctly.      The elder grabbed a half cut onion to mince when his sight became fixated on Cisco. Harry’s thumb and forefinger wrapped around the blade while he made parallel cuts through the vegetable, moving the knife downward and backward motion as his free hand held the onion in place. Spell-bound by a simple glance at the younger, who had no idea he was being watched, Harry had forgotten to return his attention back to the task in front of him. The meta took hold of his soft curls and waves, tying them back into a relatively messy bun. Once his hair was tied back, Harry saw Cisco advance towards him.     “Woah,” Cisco grabbed Harry’s wrist in haste, his grip significantly strong. “What are you doing?” Fear filled his eyes as they gazed at Harry’s hand, the blade had just barely broken through his skin.      “I—” Harry was brought back to reality. How was Harry supposed to tell Cisco that his attention was on him the entire time? “I know what I’m doing,” Harry lied with a scoff.     “Do you?” Cisco snatched the knife out of his hands. “You could’ve hurt yourself,” he placed the knife down, and seized the hand that was almost assaulted, examining the now very light cut on Harry’s knuckles. A rather satisfying sensation overcame Harry when feeling Cisco’s soft, warm touch.     “I’m fine, Cisco,” Harry responded. He tore his hand from Cisco’s hold. “I’m fine.”      “Are you?” his eyes studied Harry’s face, searching for signs to disprove Harry’s statement before quickly gazing around to make sure they were alone.     “Yes,” he nodded, holding Cisco’s hand to his chest. “I’m fine. Promise.” Harry assured him.      Still worried, Cisco quickly decided to swap tasks. “I’ll finish up here,” he grabbed the knife, “can you work on the ricotta cheese mix?”      “Cisco, I said I’m fine.”     “And I said that I’ll finish up here.”     “Fine,” he exhaled an agitated sigh. He knew that even if he protested against Cisco, he would simply end up doing what was asked of him anyways.      

 Once the food was prepared, Caitlin and Iris had set up the coffee table as Barry and Cisco made the drinks. Harry, now being treated as safety priority number one by his beloved partner, sat impatiently upon the round couch while being accompanied by Joe, Cecile, and Baby Jenna, who was sitting in the S.T.A.R Labs baby-chair made by Cisco.      Cisco finally pulled out the steaming dish of saucy red noodles out of the oven. A warm heat kissing his cheek while the heavenly fragrance of juicy seasoned tomatoes combined with spicy ground meat fill the air.     “That smells fantastic,” Barry eyed the dish. He could feel his mouth begin to water.     “I’m telling you, man, no one knows how to make lasagna better than yours truly,” Cisco smiled.     “You guys were going to start without me?” A male voice called out. Ralph had been absent at S.T.A.R Labs throughout the entire day, but he wasn’t going to miss his first Team Flash sleepover.      “Of course not,” Caitlin smiled, holding up his plate. Ralph gave her a smile, throwing his jacket over his shoulder as he made his way through the room.     “Oh my God, the baby,” Ralph cooed as he approached Jenna.      “Ah—” Cecile picked up her daughter before Ralph could touch her.     “What?” Ralph’s smile turned into a pout as he looked between the parents. “I just wanted to—”     “Did you not just come from outside?” Joe asked.     “I mean— I j-just,” Ralph stammered, hearing Joe’s fatherly voice coming out.     “Ah, wash your hands first.” Cecile said.      Ralph gave a disappointing sigh, “I’m not infected.”      “Yes, but she’s still very young,” Caitlin commented. “There’s nothing wrong about staying cautious,” she said. Ralph pouted as he held his hands up then stretched them over to the sink. He washed halfway up his arms thoroughly, scrubbing his skin down with soap for a good 20 seconds. He dried his arms then returned his arms to their normal length.      “May I?” Ralph’s arms eager to hold Jenna.      Cecile nodded, “You may.”  “Finally,” he smiled, taking hold of  the giggling child from its mother’s arms.

    Sighs and moans of pleasure filled the air as each person took a bite from their plates. Cisco’s lips were pulled to a grin, satisfied with the feedback, but Harry was the only one who hadn’t tried it yet. The couple briefly exchanged looks. Harry knew what Cisco was waiting for. He wanted Harry to try it. Harry gave a sly grin as he nudged Cisco gently with his elbow then dove his fork into the layers of delicate pasta. He quickly raised his fork into his mouth, fireworks exploded in his mouth while eating the moist layers. The spices of the sauce complimented the meat perfectly, providing a savory taste rather than a fiery one, and the warmth of the cheese over his tongue just added to the experience. Harry smiled as he took another bite, giving Cisco the answer he was looking for.      “This,” Joe pointed to his plate, “is really freaking good. My compliments to the chef.” He winked at Cisco, whose body was filling up with content and joy. He was glad he was able to provide something other than just suits and tech.     “It wasn’t just me,” Cisco’s eyes scanned everyone. “Harry helped too.     “I did,” The older male nodded, “but it was your recipe, making you responsible for this.”     “I told y’all,” Cisco chuckled. “No one makes lasagna better than Papi Ramon.”      Laughter filled the room.     “Papi?” Harry chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin.     “Just let me have it, okay? Just this once.” Cisco requested.      “Anyways,��� Cecile spoke, “so when was somebody going to tell me about you two?” She pointed her fork back and forth between Cisco and Harry, which led to their ears and cheeks burning to a shade of red and Harry slightly choking on his food. “How’d it start?”     “Uhm—” Cisco handed Harry his drink and patted his back.     “If you don’t tell them, I will,” Iris said, taking a sip of her wine.      “It’s cute,” Caitlin said softly.     “It is,” Ralph nodded before feeding Baby Jenna a spoonful of lightly salted carrots.      “Dish it!” Cecile incited.      Harry placed his plate down. He kept his eyes down at his hands, trying to avoid Cecile’s gaze. “I mean I don’t really think there’s much to—”     “Uh-uh-uh,” Cecile shook her head. “I want to know. I want to know everything up until the first kiss,” she demanded. The red shade on Harry’s cheeks grew darker. Hearing this, everyone leaned forward so they wouldn’t miss a second of it.     “Well,” Cisco twirled his fork into his lasagna.     “There’s not much to tell,” Harry cleared his throat.      “It was a little after saving Jesse that we started talking,” Cisco looked at Harry, who was nodding along as he spoke.       “After Jesse and I had left the first time, Ramon and I kept in touch,” Harry took a sip of his drink. “Just to get him to come over, sometimes I would ask him to help me with some experiments.”     “So who asked who?” Joe asked, wiping his lips with a napkin.     “Neither of us,” Harry responded, leaning closer towards Cisco.      “No?” Cecile questioned.     “No,” Harry confirmed.     “It was just one of those things where we just knew,” Cisco lightly shrugged with a soft smile.      “And the kiss?” Cecile asked. The two males glanced down at the white tiles beneath their feet. Harry shook his head. “You tell it,” Cisco said.     “Why me?” Harry questioned.  “You have total recall,” Cisco gave Harry a mocking grin.      “Fuck me,” Harry whispered under his breath before being flicked in the head by Cisco. “What the—”     “Baby,” Cisco pointed to Jenna with his fork. “Watch your language.”      Harry gave the parents an apologetic look then proceeded with what he was going to say. “I’ll tell it,” he cleared his throat. “We were over in Cisco’s workshop. The both of us had stayed really late working on the earmuffs for Jesse and I. Cisco had gone out to go get us some ice cream. I had the butter pecan,” he looked over to Cisco, “and you had some sort of brownie sundae, right?”     Cisco nodded. “It was a brownie fudge sundae with coffee ice cream,”     “The one that comes with the dinosaur shaped brownie?” Barry asked.     “Are you judging my dino brownie?” Cisco asked.     “Damn,” Iris pouted. “Now I want brownies.”     Everyone laughed before Harry continued his anecdote.      “Anyways,” the scientist ran his tongue over his lips, “so Ramon was sitting across from me and I had noticed that there was chocolate fudge on his lip. I told him, and yeah…” Harry trailed off.      “Uh-uh” Iris shook her head. “That’s not a first kiss story.”     “What?” Harry scoffed. “I just—” “You have to describe what happens from Point A to Point B,” Ralph spoke. “Point B being the kiss.” “Fine.” Harry groaned, his face was red as Barry’s suit now.      “Go back to the part with the fudge,” Barry teased.      Harry’s teeth gently took hold of his bottom lip as he tried to find the right words. “Okay, so the fudge,” he chuckled. “I had grabbed a napkin, and held it out for him, but his attention was completely elsewhere,” he turned to Cisco, “I don’t know what the heck you were doing, but I was waving it and everything, and he just never looked up, so I leaned forward and used my thumb to wipe it off. Being, y’know so close,” he used his hand to gesture how close he was to Cisco’s face, “I saw the chance and I took it,” Harry clapped his hands in accomplishment of telling the story without running away. He sipped his drink once more before returning his unfinished plate into his hands.     All the women awed at the stories.     “Now that’s a cute first kiss story,” Cecile smiled before finishing her meal.     “I think that’s the cutest first kiss story here,” Caitlin said looking around, Iris nodded in agreement.     “What?” Barry asked. “You don’t think our first kiss-”     “Barry, you erased that timeline.” Cisco butted in.      The speedster wanted to keep his mouth shut, but still managed to say “I still think ours was the cutest,” he muttered.     “If you say so,” Iris said, patting Barry’s shoulder.

    For the first time in years, S.T.A.R Labs had a peaceful night. There weren’t any metas to chase tonight, no one randomly breaking into S.T.A.R. Labs. It was just chatter and joy. Joe and Cecile had decided to retire for the day, taking Baby Jenna along with them, leaving Harry as the designated meta-babysitter. He leaned back against the couch, his arm placed upon the backrest, which left a cavity to his torso which was soon filled by Cisco's body. He invited the pressure and warmth the younger's body provided. Harry looked at Cisco’s cards then back to the deck when Barry put down his card.     "Uno dare #5" Cisco read aloud then leaned forward to read the dare card, “flip the table...”     “Finally,” a wide grin plastered itself along the speedster’s face. He quickly grabbed the edge of the table and flipped it over.     “Good job, Allen,” Harry said looking at the mess. “Now clean it up,” Barry rolled his eyes, but did as told. His golden lightning zoomed around until everything was put back into place.     “I think I’m gonna hit the hay,” Barry stretched.     “Same,” Iris stood up and made her way over to Barry.      "Yeah, I think I'm gonna go too." Caitlin added.     "What? You're all just gonna leave?" Cisco asked.     The three exchanged looks before nodding. "Yeah," they said in unison.     "Add me to that too," Ralph took off his jacket.     "Ope, there's another one." Harry commented before sitting up straight.     "Y'all are no fun." Cisco pouted.     "We'll play tomorrow," Barry said, wrapping his arm around Iris. Cisco held his pout as he watched them exit. Harry tapped the meta's shoulder.      "You coming to bed?" he asked, lifting himself up from the couch.      "I'll be there in a bit," Cisco responded. "I have something I want to work on," he said.      "Oh?" Harry raised a brow. "Mind if I join?"     "I don't mind at all," Cisco smiled. 

#the flash the cw #the flash cw #cw the flash #the flash fanfiction #the flash #harrison wells #cisco ramon #harrisco #harry x cisco #barry allen #iriswestallen #iriswest #iris west #barry x iris #joe west #cecile horton #westhorton #ralph dibny #caitlin snow #fanfiction #headcanon #the flash fanfic

[bountyofbeads]

Anguish and Anger From the Navy SEALS Who Turned In Edward Gallagher https://nyti.ms/2EU91FB

The men of Alpha Platoon, SEAL Team 7, described Chief Gallagher as “freaking evil” and “toxic” in videos not shown publicly before. The remarks are blistering testimony about their platoon chief, who was protected by President Trump from punishment.

Anguish and Anger From the Navy SEALS Who Turned In Edward Gallagher

Video interviews and group texts obtained by The Times show men describing their platoon leader in grim terms.

By Dave Philips | Published Dec. 27, 2019 Updated 5:24 AM ET | New York Times | Posted December 28, 2019 |

The Navy SEALs showed up one by one, wearing hoodies and T-shirts instead of uniforms, to tell investigators what they had seen. Visibly nervous, they shifted in their chairs, rubbed their palms and pressed their fists against their foreheads. At times they stopped in midsentence and broke into tears.

“Sorry about this,” Special Operator First Class Craig Miller, one of the most experienced SEALs in the group, said as he looked sideways toward a blank wall, trying to hide that he was weeping. “It’s the first time — I’m really broken up about this.”

Video recordings of the interviews obtained by The New York Times, which have not been shown publicly before, were part of a trove of Navy investigative materials about the prosecution of Special Operations Chief Edward Gallagher on war crimes charges including murder.

They offer the first opportunity outside the courtroom to hear directly from the men of Alpha platoon, SEAL Team 7, whose blistering testimony about their platoon chief was dismissed by President Trump when he upended the military code of justice to protect Chief Gallagher from the punishment.

“The guy is freaking evil,” Special Operator Miller told investigators. “The guy was toxic,” Special Operator First Class Joshua Vriens, a sniper, said in a separate interview. “You could tell he was perfectly O.K. with killing anybody that was moving,” Special Operator First Class Corey Scott, a medic in the platoon, told the investigators.

Such dire descriptions of Chief Gallagher, who had eight combat deployments and sometimes went by the nickname Blade, are in marked contrast to Mr. Trump’s portrayal of him at a recent political rally in Florida as one of “our great fighters.”

Though combat in Iraq barely fazed the SEALs, sitting down to tell Naval Criminal Investigative Service agents about what they had seen their platoon chief do during a 2017 deployment in Iraq was excruciating for them.

Not only did they have to relive wrenching events and describe grisly scenes, they had to break a powerful unwritten code of silence in the SEALs, one of the nation’s most elite commando forces.

The trove of materials also includes thousands of text messages the SEALs sent one another about the events and the prosecution of Chief Gallagher. Together with the dozens of hours of recorded interviews, they provide revealing insights into the men of the platoon, who have never spoken publicly about the case, and the leader they turned in.

Platoon members said they saw Chief Gallagher shoot civilians and fatally stab a wounded captive with a hunting knife. Chief Gallagher was acquitted by a military jury in July of all but a single relatively minor charge, and was cleared of all punishment in November by Mr. Trump.

Video from a SEAL’s helmet camera, included in the trove of materials, shows the barely conscious captive — a teenage Islamic State fighter so thin that his watch slid easily up and down his arm — being brought in to the platoon one day in May 2017. Then the helmet camera is shut off.

In the video interviews with investigators, three SEALs said they saw Chief Gallagher go on to stab the sedated captive for no reason, and then hold an impromptu re-enlistment ceremony over the body, as if it were a trophy.

“I was listening to it, and I was just thinking, like, this is the most disgraceful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Special Operator Miller, who has since been promoted to chief, told investigators.

Special Operator Miller said that when the platoon commander, Lt. Jacob Portier, told the SEALs to gather over the corpse for photos, he did not feel he could refuse. The photos, included in the evidence obtained by The Times, show Chief Gallagher, surrounded by other SEALs, clutching the dead captive’s hair; in one photo, he holds a custom-made hunting knife.

“I think Eddie was proud of it, and that was, like, part of it for him,” Special Operator Miller told investigators.

Chief Gallagher’s lawyer, Timothy Parlatore, said the video interviews were rife with inconsistencies and falsehoods that created “a clear road map to the acquittal.”

Since his arrest nearly a year ago, Chief Gallagher has insisted that the charges against him were concocted by six disgruntled SEALs in his platoon who could not meet his high standards and wanted to force him out.

“My first reaction to seeing the videos was surprise and disgust that they would make up blatant lies about me, but I quickly realized that they were scared that the truth would come out of how cowardly they acted on deployment,” Chief Gallagher said in a statement issued through his lawyer.

“I felt sorry for them that they thought it necessary to smear my name, but they never realized what the consequences of their lies would be. As upset as I was, the videos also gave me confidence because I knew that their lies would never hold up under real questioning and the jury would see through it. Their lies and N.C.I.S.’s refusal to ask hard questions or corroborate their stories strengthened my resolve to go to trial and clear my name.”

The video interviews and private group text conversations obtained by The Times do not reveal any coordinated deception among the SEALs in the chief’s platoon. Instead, they show men who were hesitant to come forward, but who urged one another to resist outside pressure and threats of violence, and to be honest.

“Tell the truth, don’t lie or embellish,” one sniper who is now in SEAL Team 6 told the others in a group text in 2017, when they first tried to report the chief. “That way, he can’t say that we slandered him in any way.”

When several SEALs in the group questioned what would come of reporting the chief to their commanders, another wrote: “That’s their decision. We just need to give them the truth.”

It is an unspoken rule among their teams that SEALs should not report other SEALs for misconduct. An internal investigation could close off choice assignments or end careers for the accusers as well as the accused. And anyone who reported concerns outside the tight-knit SEAL community risked being branded a traitor.

“In a perfect world, there would be no risk, but that is not where we are,” Rick Haas, a retired command master chief who served in the SEALs for 30 years, said in an interview with The Times. “The teams are now divided over this, like I’ve never seen happen before.”

In cramped interview rooms in San Diego, SEALs who spoke to Navy investigators painted a picture of a platoon driven to despair by a chief who seemed to care primarily about racking up kills. They described how their chief targeted women and children and boasted that “burqas were flying.”

Asked whether the chief had a bias against Middle Eastern people, Special Operator Scott replied, “I think he just wants to kill anybody he can.”

Some of the SEALs said they came to believe that the chief was purposefully exposing them to enemy fire to bait ISIS fighters into revealing their positions. They said the chief thought that casualties in the platoon would increase his chances for a Silver Star.

Special Operator Vriens told investigators he had wanted to confront the chief in Iraq but had worried that if he did, he would be cut from missions and no longer be present to protect other SEALs from the chief. As he spoke, he struggled to keep his composure.

“I can speak up, stand my ground,” he said in the interview. “He’s just going to do this to a new guy who he can manipulate. So I was like, I’m going to be his right-hand man, so — so no one else got hurt.”

He pressed his forehead into his fists and started to cry. Then he took several deep breaths, rubbed his hands together and tried to continue.

“So I worked for him and I kept my mouth shut,” he said.

The platoon members told investigators that they tried repeatedly to report what they saw, but that the chain of command above them was friendly toward Chief Gallagher and took no action. Finally, in April 2018, they went outside the SEALs to the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Chief Gallagher was arrested a few months later.

The SEALs in the platoon were scattered to new assignments. They tried to keep tabs on the case, texting one another and commiserating over a series of setbacks, including accusations of prosecutorial misconduct, the removal of the lead prosecutor and reports that the judge overseeing the case was being investigated on suspicion of lying under oath.

“This stuff is frustrating to read and makes it seem like Eddie will possibly get away with murder (literally),” Special Operator First Class Dylan Dille texted the group. “Let’s not forget there are 7-12 of us in here who had the balls to tell the truth about what Eddie has done.”

He said he thought the case against Chief Gallagher was strong despite the procedural setbacks. “I am also convinced that we are gonna answer to a higher power someday, and everything happens for a reason,” wrote Special Operator Dille, who has since left the Navy. “Not compromising our integrity and keeping right on our side is all we can do.”

Seven members of the 22-person platoon testified at the trial that they saw the chief commit war crimes. Two men from the platoon testified that they did not see any evidence of crimes. Others refused to cooperate with prosecutors. Crucially, one SEAL who had accused the chief during the investigation — Special Operator Scott — changed his story on the witness stand, testifying that he and not Chief Gallagher had caused the captive’s death.

Three of the men who testified at the trial left the Navy afterward, and have been trying to keep a low profile while they build civilian lives. Others are still in the SEAL teams, in some cases working on classified assignments. Some fear that coming forward has hurt their chances at success in the SEALs, but none have reported any retaliation. All of them declined to comment for this article.

Since the trial, Chief Gallagher has repeatedly insulted them on social media and on Fox News, especially Craig Miller, whom the chief singled out for weeping while talking to investigators.

Chief Gallagher retired from the Navy with full honors at the end of November, and has announced that he was starting a SEAL-themed clothing line.

A few days after he retired, an Instagram account belonging to him and his wife posted a photo of a custom-made hatchet, forged by the same SEAL veteran who made the hunting knife he was accused of using to kill the captive. Before the deployment, Chief Gallagher had told the knife maker he hoped to “dig that knife or hatchet on someone’s skull!”

“Eddie finally got his stuff back from NCIS,” the post said, listing the hatchet among a “few of our favorite things now returned.”

Another item returned to him was a black-and-white Islamic State flag. On Saturday, Chief Gallagher presented Mr. Trump with a folded black-and-white cloth that other SEALs from the platoon said appeared to be the flag.

A post on the chief’s Instagram account said, “Finally got to thank the President and his amazing wife by giving them a little gift from Eddie’s deployment to Mosul.”

🎄⛄🎄⛄🎄⛄🎄⛄🎄

Confidential Videos Show Why Navy SEALs Reported Edward Gallagher Episode 23: ‘The Gallagher Effect’

You can watch the full documentary  now on Hulu and Sunday on FX at 10 p.m. ET.

Producers Jessica Dimmock and Zackary Canepari | Published December 27, 2019 | New York Times |

Combat video, text messages and confidential interviews with members of the Navy SEALs obtained by The New York Times reveal chilling details about the conduct of Special Operations Chief Edward Gallagher, a bona fide badass with a chest full of medals.

Trained as a medic, sniper and explosives expert, Gallagher was the consummate leader of Alpha Platoon, SEAL Team 7, part of the Navy’s elite commando force. But when his own men said he committed war crimes, it sent shock waves up the chain of command — reaching all the way to the commander in chief.

Gallagher’s case continues to roil the Navy even after his acquittal on the most severe charges, and the public debate on Fox News and Twitter has widened the rift between President Trump and some top military leaders.

What exactly happened in Iraq in 2017 that so alarmed Gallagher’s brothers in arms? And why has the case resonated with Trump and his political base?

On this episode of “The Weekly,” members of SEAL Team 7 tell Navy investigators that Gallagher was a reckless leader with a disturbing hunger for violence. They say they spent much of their time protecting Iraqi civilians from their battle-crazed chief instead of going after ISIS. And never-before-released video from the SEALs’ deployment shows Gallagher kneeling beside a defenseless ISIS captive moments before Gallagher plunged his knife into the prisoner’s neck.

🎄⛄🎄⛄🎄⛄🎄⛄🎄

#trump scandals #president donald trump #donald trump jr #trump administration #impeach trump #trump impeachment #trump news #potus #potus45 #u. s. military #u.s. military #military #national security #navyseals #u.s. navy #us navy #navy #navy seals

[smol-and-grumpy]

Dear Dean (Chapter 2)

Re-post

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Jamie Blum)

WC: 3.4k

Summary: After taking Saint Lo, by sheer dumb luck, Lieutenant Dean Winchester from the 29th Infantry Division, Baker Company, received a truckload of replacements for his platoon that was falling apart. Little did he know, that one recruit would change his life forever.

Chapter Warnings: There’s none, except angst and the fear of what lies ahead.

SERIES MASTERLIST

22nd July, 1944

Letters from home arrived early in the morning and everyone tore them open, reading them out loud while they were sitting at breakfast and weirdly enough, Dean got a letter too. He thought first that it was Sam’s but no, it was from home. Dean ripped it open, not minding that he tore out a little of the letter as well. He was clumsy with his fingers lately, having trouble to keep them from trembling in the most inconvenient of times.

Dear Dean,

I hope this letter reaches you well, like all the other letters I’ve sent you before. I wish that you would write back, but I understand that time must be a real big issue. I miss you and wanted to say that I’m immensely proud of what you’re doing. I hope Sam’s doing great, too. I thought that I should send you a photograph I found while I cleared out my mom’s attic. Remember how you, Sam and me snuck out to go to the fair? This is the picture of then. That night you kissed me. It was my first kiss, too. I miss you guys so much. My mom’s still taking care of your home. Growing flowers and tending to the porch. She too, believes that the both of you will come back. You were always more than the neighbor boy to me. You were more than a brother or a friend. Dean, I love you, and I still do. Come back in one piece, alright?

Love Always,

Anna Milton

Dean threw away the letter pretty soon after he read it. He wouldn’t reply, like the others that he left on a trail from Omaha to here. Dean knew that if he would write back and tell her that he’d never saw anything else than a friend in her, he’d break her heart and sometimes, if you have nothing nice to say in a letter, you shouldn’t be writing one at all. However he kept the photograph. It was a picture of he, Sam, and Anna in the middle. All of them smiling. All of them still hopeful. He folded it and tucked it into his helmet. Now he had picture in there, too.

June, 1944

Just when it felt like it was all too much, like the loneliness would swallow her whole, Jamie received a letter in the mail addressed to Mr. Jamie Blum. She eagerly ripped through the envelope, not caring about the paper cuts that easily sliced through the skin on her fingers. She held the paper in her hands, small droplets of blood sprinkling the words on the page.

Greeting:

Having submitted yourself to a local board composed of your neighbors for the purpose of determining your availability for training and service in the armed forces of the United States, you are hereby notified that you have been selected for training and service in the Army. You will, therefore, report….

She’d been drafted. Jameson put her name in after all.

Jamie stared at the white paper, and the words began to melt together. She didn’t know if she should cry, or rejoice. So, instead, she walked up the stairs, and into the bathroom. She pulled out her brothers razor blade. Jamie stared at her reflection, her eyes were hollow, and her cheek bones protrudes from lack of sleep. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them she ran the blade across her scalp, in one fluid motion, wincing at the tug of protest that her long hair gave. It fell to the ground like new fallen snow, lackadaisical, and languid. It danced past her empty eyes and collected at her bare feet on the bathroom floor.

She ducked her naked head under the sink, letting the cool water run over her irritated scalp. Jamie was going to do this and nothing would stop her. She gripped the edge of the sink and looked at herself in the mirror, she looked alien without hair, but she smiled at her own reflection, water droplets rolling down her face. She looked a little like Jameson, she thought, as she reached out a hand to touch her reflection in the mirror.

Jamie would leave the house, without looking back, like her brothers before her. Anywhere was better than being alone. Always waiting for letters or worse, for someone to tell her that her brothers all had fallen. She needed to stand on the same ground as them. She needed to feel alive again. So she gathered up what she could find of her brothers that fit, and packed her duffle bag, tossing it over her shoulder. She locked the door behind her, fully prepared to never see her childhood home again.

**

Jamie arrived in England a week later for Basic Training. She was careful about her appearance and was really grateful that she didn’t have large boobs. She didn’t have to actually bind them tightly. She waited for the others to shower and slipped in when they were dressing. It worked surprisingly well, maybe because she was so small, and she could really go anywhere almost undetected. Most of the men in her training class were young themselves, and missing home. They didn’t seem to pay close attention to anyone else, let alone her. She adapted the ways of the men around her. She told crude jokes, and ate with her mouth open. They talked about the dolls at home, and she told them that she couldn’t be tied down by just one. Her secret was safe.

Turned out, she was a hell of a shot. Having three brothers worked to her advantage. Jamie knew how to spit, clean a weapon, and she could drink just about any man under the table. She completed only four days of training when they announced that she was shipping off to France. Apparently there was a shortage everywhere. Soldiers moved in and out of camp restlessly, like little ants.

**

22nd July, 1944

On the way to her assignment, she sat in the back of a truck. It was bumping, and uncomfortable. She grunted at every rock the truck rolled over. When they arrive in Saint Lo, and she finally could stand up again, and straighten her back, she felt a stinging pain traveling down her spine, but she wouldn’t let it bring her down.

Even in a war zone, she could admit that France was beautiful. She could see the seaside, and taste the ocean air. Almost like back at Trenton. The other men didn’t seem to notice the sea air, or the clear sky. They gathered their things and were already in step.

Biting on her lip, Jamie secured her webbing, swung her haversack across her back and hung her musette bag around her body, determined to be at the front of the pack. She wouldn’t fall behind. She fetched her rifle from the floor of the truck bed, and jumped off the halting truck, into the bright sun.

They lined up the new arrivals in the front of their respective platoons and were inspected by the platoon leaders. Jamie stood at attention like she was taught, her chest out, next to her training class. Her heartbeat rang in her ears with a woosh, as her eyes landed on the man in front of her. He was tall, about six foot, if she was guessing. His shoulders were broad, and she could see the reflection of their terrified faces in his mossy green eyes.

“Name’s Lieutenant Dean Winchester.” The man announced and Jamie flinched at the deep rolling sound of his voice at first, but at the same time, the bass of it was strangely calming and smooth, as if it was coated with warm and sweet honey.

She pressed her lips together, and tried to ignore the bead of sweat that was on her upper lip.

Lieutenant Winchester stood up straight, puffing up his broad shoulders to intimidate them and for some, it worked, but not with her. She knew these kind of men, all bark, but no bite.  She tightened her jaw, trying not to laugh at her platoon leader’s alpha behavior.

Dean turned on his heels, his eyes narrowing at the small replacement in front of him. Christ, he can’t be older than eighteen? They make them smaller and smaller. “What your name, private?”

“Blum, Sir.” It came shouting out of him like a pistol. He’d been drilled to do it, Dean knew.

“Private Blum, huh?” A lopsided grin started to spread on Dean’s face. “Alright, private Blum. From now on, in my platoon, you’ll be Bambi.” And then he looked up from him to the other replacements. “I like to give nicknames to my privates. You’ll all get one if you’re lucky.” He took a good look at their faces in the line before he stalled before private Blum. “You’re fucking small, Bambi. Tell me, what can you contribute to my platoon?”

“Sir, I’m a mean shooter.” Bambi shouted like he’d been drilled in basic.

“Shooter, huh? Good. I can use that. What else, private?” Dean knew that he shouldn’t be so harsh on the first day but hell, he’s got a platoon to lead and a freaking war to win. Then he adds, “Come on! Humor me.”

“I..uh..”

“That’s what I thought –” Dean snickered but got cut off by the small private with doe eyes.

“I know a little German, Lieutenant. You’re right, I’m small but I’m stronger than I look. I’m pretty good, you just watch.” The privates eyes locked with Deans in a challenge. Almost as if he was saying, challenge me.

Dean nodded at that. He knew that he should maybe shout at him, telling him not to talk to his superior like that, but he was too tired for this shit. He still had a briefing to attend and so he stepped back before he turned to Sergeant Harvelle. “Take over, sergeant.”

And then he walked away, leaving Harvelle to deal with instructions.

There was something about Bambi that made his blood freeze. He couldn’t figure out what it was, but it was something that made him want to protect that little son of a bitch who thought he was a smartass. But Dean also knew that private Blum would probably be trouble, he just couldn’t put a finger on how yet.

The look Bambi gave Dean was all too familiar. It was a look he normally saw on Sam. Sammy could look at him with doe eyes, under long lashes, and he would melt. Now there was someone in his company - no, in his freaking platoon - that gave him the same fucking look and it didn’t really bode well with Dean.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Sam and so Dean decided to fill his remaining 10 minutes before briefing with writing him a letter.

Dear Sam,

I haven’t had a lot of time to write to you lately. I’m sorry for that. Things have been wild, man. I thought you’d be here with us in Saint Lo, but I got words that you stayed behind at Omaha to help clear things out. Sammy, just take good care, alright? Don’t make me abandon my platoon and come save your ass!

I thought Omaha was bad, but shit just got worse from there on out. I lost a kid. A goddamn kid, Sam! Not much older than you are. He tried to tell me a joke and stepped on a landmine. I should have seen it but I was so goddamn distracted by him and now, there’s not even enough of him left to send home to his parents, and I know that it’s on me. It’s all on me. You asked me once how many I need to save, and I answered with “all of them”, do you remember? I think I failed, Sammy. I failed real bad.

I’ve lost half of my platoon before we could take over Saint Lo, Sammy. And hey, we did it without ammo. I hope you’re proud of me. Captain Mills is weird lately, though. He always keeps talking about me taking over. I don’t even know why he does that.. So my job right now is to cheer him the fuck up at keep him alive because, Sam, I don’t wanna lead. I can’t. I will fail, I know that much. I’ll let my platoon down, the whole Baker Company. I’m so fucking screwed if something should happen to Mills.

We’ve got a shitload of new recruits today. More lives that I need to take care of. They arrived this morning and one of them already rubs me the wrong way. And he’s also the reason why I sat myself down to write to you. He reminds me of you. He has the same set of eyes and already tried to undermine me. I should have stripped him the fuck down, but I couldn’t, Sammy. I couldn’t, because I saw you in him. You have the same eyes and fucking hell, remember the screening of Bambi at camp? He’s got Bambi eyes. Big, doe-like and I swear he gave me that dirty diaper look you’ve always been giving me since I can remember.

I’m sorry about the rant, brother. It’s just… I don’t know who I should talk to about this. I hoped you skipped half of the letter because there’s nothing but ranting.

Shit, Sammy, I fucking miss you. I hope you’re ok and this letter will reach you. Take care, alright?

Lieutenant Dean Winchester

Jamie’s fingers twitched at her side. Bambi, huh? Fuck this. Not even here for a minute and the Lieutenant was already pissing on her parade. If Jamie didn’t think that she’d made a mistake by coming, she sure as hell knew now, but there was no going back anymore.

Sergeant Harvelle directed them to their billets before they would go out for a hot meal. The people in the platoon were in good spirits and some of them even joked that they wanted to stay here for the roof over their head and the regular hot meals. It made Jamie think about what they went through to consider this a piece of heaven.

Jamie fetched her tray and lined up and waited on her serving of food. She balanced the tray to the table where her platoon was sitting and sat at the beginning of the bench, next to Sergeant Harvelle and across from Corporal Tran. She poked around in something that looks awful lot like Mac’n’Cheese, but she couldn’t be sure until she would taste it on her tongue, when Tran asked her a question.

“So, you’re Bambi, huh?” He said it with a casual smile on his face, having heard about her interaction with Lieutenant Winchester.

Jamie swallowed what turned out to really be Mac’n’Cheese, only too watery and salty for her taste, but she couldn’t complain now, could she, before she spoke. “Apparently, that’s me.”

“Hey,” Tran said, pointing his fork in her direction, “Better than being called Dopey or Sneezy.”

She grinned at the thought of Lieutenant Winchester naming people in his platoon after the seven dwarfs. “Why, who’s Dopey?”

Tran points to the private at the end of the table. “Private Sands is Dopey, and next to him,” Tran looks back at her, “we have Private Redfield as Sneezy.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Sneezed his freaking way through the fields after Omaha, man.” Tran and Harvelle laughed when they thought back at the way Private Redfields nose and eyes were puffy red and swollen from hayfever.

“And you, Sergeant, Corporal?” She looks at them, wondering what their nicknames were. It would only be fair if everyone has got one, Jamie thought.

“We don’t. Winchester’s only giving them on the go. So, I guess, congrats to you, Bambi!” Harvelle stuffed his mouth with a big fork of food and then Tran leaned in a little, looking around before he whispered so that only Jamie and sergeant Harvelle could hear him.

“We call the Lieutenant Grumpy.” Tran winked and Jamie snorted before throwing her head back into heartfelt laughter. Harvelle and Tran joined in.

“What’s so funny?” Lieutenant Winchester was standing at the foot of the table, a little behind him, was Lieutenant Novak. They both held a tray in their hands and there was a heavy frown on Lieutenant Winchester’s face.

“Nothing, Sir.” Harvelle said hastily and began to shout down the line to scooch together and Jamie did the same, scooching close to Harvelle, to make room for the two Lieutenants.

Lieutenant Winchester sat down his eyebrows still knotted together in the middle of his forehead, as if he didn’t trust that they were laughing about nothing. Lieutenant Novak on the other hand, had his lips spread into a warm smile and he spoke and first she didn’t know that he meant her, but then he asked again. “Private? Hey, Bambi.”

“Yes, Sir!” It came out a little too enthusiastic and she could see at the corner of her eye that Lieutenant Dean Winchester was holding back a laugh.

“I asked you why you are here. What’s your story?” Lieutenant Novak said, his voice warm and kind. Why couldn’t she be in his platoon?

Jamie exhaled loudly, and then she speaks. “I..uh… my brother’s are all in the army. I didn’t want to be left behind.”

She could see that Lieutenant Winchesters face went from grumpy to understanding and she hoped he was warming up to her.

“How many brothers do you have?” It was Tran who asked and he had sympathy painted on his face.

Jamie stopped eating and laid her fork down. “Three. They’re all scattered around here somewhere.” She could feel that everyone in her close proximity were listening to her because they stopped eating, too. She tapped her fork, not liking being the center of attention after all the time she spent in Basic trying to blend in.

“And parents? Must be tough having all their kids out in the field.” Harvelle asked hesitantly, as if he didn’t want to overstep but he was curious and Jamie understood.

“I don’t have any. We’ve only had each other as far as I can remember.” Jamie bit back the tears that stung in her eyes. There was no way that she wanted to cry there in front of everyone. She was a man, dammit.

Harvelle nodded and returned to his food and the others followed. They all kept eating in silence, and she could only hear Lieutenants Winchester and Novak talking to each other in low voices.

When Lieutenant Winchester finished his plate, he looks around his platoon. “Who’s on sentry?” They’d been rotating sentry with the other companies and he knew that Baker always have one or two sentry shifts at night, but he tended to forget who and when.

“We are, Sir!” The shout came from the other end of the table and Lieutenant Dean Winchester craned his neck.

“Dopey and Sneezy? What a team, huh? What time?”

“Oh-three-hundred, Sir!”

Lieutenant Winchester nodded in the direction of Private Sands and Redford. “Alright you two, you are switching with me and Bambi. Take a nap. Rest. I want you all well rested at Oh-six-hundred.”

Jamie looked at Lieutenant Winchester in disbelief. She just arrived for fuck’s sake. She didn’t even know the perimeter. Didn’t even know how what to do. While her mind was working with the endless tasks and what there is to do on sentry duty, Lieutenant Dean looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

“You got a problem with that, Bambi?”

“No, Sir.” She replied, a little less enthusiastic.

Lieutenant Dean stood up from the bench and balanced his tray in one hand. “Good. Report to the meeting point at Oh-two-fifty.”

And before Jamie could even nod, he was already gone with Lieutenant Novak trailing behind.

“Shit, Bambi. What did you do to piss him off?” Tran looked at her stunned. “He never changed sentry rota with a new replacement before.”

Jamie just shrugged in disbelieve. “I don’t fucking know.”

“Look, he’s grumpy and might be harsh, but he’s looking out for his people, alright? We’ve had rough days behind us and he probably just wanted us to get a good nights worth of sleep and it happened that two of us still had to be on sentry so he took it over and I guess, you were just sitting the closet to him.” Harvelle cleaned his plate with his fork, the metal clinking together and it gave Jamie goosebumps.

“Yeah, probably.” Jamie said meekly and with the others, she put the tray back and walked out of the hall. She paused and looked up to the dimming sky, thinking and hoping that her brothers had it better than she did.

Chapter 3

#dear dean #dean winchester #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x ofc #dean x oc #dean x ofc #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

[bisexualryder]

Okay dude i’ll bite, can i know more about your trio wardens au ? Like how did they meet ? Who did they romance ? What happens to them after dao ? In da2 ? Dai ? (Sorry im just a huge fan of ocs and i love the wardens)

Ahhh, first off - thank you for asking! I’m happy to gush about my trio of idiots wardens :D Secondly - don’t apologize for asking! I love talking about my OCs, I’m just bad about keeping up with posting and such lately (but hope to fix that soon, especially if I make this extra sideblog). ANYWHO, gonna jump in and apologize now if this gets long, lol.

—

SO I’ll hit romance first since that’s quicker and easier. Rylee and Ise (eventually) become a thing - they’re married by the time DAI rolls around. Typical grumpy asshole falls in love with ray of sunshine and doesn’t want to admit it at first. She tries to play it cool and ends up playing it too cool until she gets some help from the couple companions she befriends (mostly Zev, since Sten doesn’t care that much, but he offers his insight on what qunari do). But they don’t actually, like, really become a romance-y thing until after ghoul!Tamlen shows up and oof that one is painful.

Eleri I… don’t know yet, to be honest. She was a re-imagining of my old Cousland, who romanced Alistair, but with Eleri I’m actually leaning a bit more toward Zevran. But uh, still not sure yet, I’m mad indecisive on this one. tbh even Nate is in the running for her *shrug emoji*

On to the rest!

DA:O

They don’t all join the standard way, I guess, but they do all meet at Ostagar. Ducan officially recruits Rylee and Isethari, Eleri recruits herself, lol.

Rylee is recruited first. Standard Tabris origin there and it’s on the way to Ostagar that they plan to stop and see the Dalish elves and that’s when they find Isethari half-dead in the middle of the woods (it was sheer luck, really). Duncan sends Rylee, carrying the nearly-dead Ise, to the camp and goes to investigate the area. Other than Rylee wandering around the Dalish camp like an awestruck idiot, most of the Mahariel origin is the same. Rylee stays behind in the camp, though, when Ise and co. are sent back to the ruin where they run into Duncan. Once they leave, Rylee earns herself the duty of ensuring that Isethari doesn’t run on their trip to Ostagar, bc let me tell you Ise is not happy about leaving without finding Tamlen.

Now for Eleri, she escapes the castle with only her mabari after her parents sacrifice themselves to buy her time to get out. She manages to make it to the stables for her horse and rides as hard as she can to Ostagar, desperate to find her brother. When she basically gets told that he’s out scouting and she likely won’t see him before the battle, she asks about the wardens and is pointed toward Duncan. At that point, she goes up to him like: “I just slaughtered my way through an army of men trying to assassinate my family. I have nothing left but this dream, please.” He asks clarification, she provides, he eventually agrees and sends her off to gather the other recruits and report back with Alistair. It’s at that point she meets Rylee and Isethari, who are hanging around close together by the quartermaster (after Rylee nearly kills Daveth for hitting on that one woman, you know the one). 

From there up until the start of the fight, it progresses as it normally would in canon. They all get their quest, go out into the wilds, etc. etc. And once they survive the Joining, they have a pre-meeting meeting thing. Alistair and Eleri join the meeting as per canon, and Duncan assigns Rylee and Ise to the remaining warden forces. So from there, canon-typical for Eleri. Go to the tower, light the beacon, get almost killed and then saved by Flemeth, etc.

Rylee and Ise, however, have a much more trying experience. Rylee takes a genlock to the face (claws? blade? idk lmao) for Ise to protect her - this being around the time they can see the battle is going south. Duncan’s already been killed at this point and Ise starts to panic (she hates fighting as it is) and manages to half convince, half drag Rylee from the fighting and they flee the battle to the nearest town (naturally, Lothering). They end up meeting up with Eleri and Alistair (and Morrigan) again and explain what happened from their perspective and then work with Eleri and Alistair to come up with a plan of action.

Eleri takes up the role of warden-commander (since Alistair and Ise don’t want to lead and everyone knows Rylee leading is a Very Bad Idea™).

Uhhh, key highlights of what they do I guess would be:

Sided with the Mages

Irving saved, Uldred dead etc etc

Put Bhelen in power

Branka’s killed

sent Dagna off to study ofc

Sided with the Dalish against the werewolves

two elves with one being Dalish and the other violently racist made it a simple choice for Eleri to lessen a headache later (she had way too much else to worry about than argue with them)

Helped Redcliffe and saved Conner

demon killed w/Jowan’s help (he does the ritual and Morrigan is sent in to yeet the demon out)

Isolde’s alive

side note: didn’t poison the Urn

Anora rules w/ Alistair

Loghain alive & recruited as a warden (recruited post-final fight)

Alistair still performs the ritual with Morrigan

Awakening

Not too much of note here. Rylee is the one that finds Nathaniel, though, and it does not go well for him. It’s only Ise that stays Rylee’s hand from killing him. When they bring him to Eleri, she immediately recruits him when she realizes it’s her old friend. He’s still pretty ticked, but softens about the whole thing a bit when he realizes Eleri is around.

With more wardens, they’re able to more easily protect the Keep and Amaranthine. And the Architect does live (much to Rylee’s great annoyance).

DA2 & DAI

Sometime in here is when Rylee and Ise get married. They have two ceremonies - one in the Denerim alienage to honor Rylee’s culture and then again when they find Ise’s clan outside Kirkwall.

Hawke and co. do run into Ise and Rylee in the Deep Roads during the expedition (as they are canon with Ashley Hawke, there’s not a twin to save). BUT the two of them help Ash and crew gtfo and back safely to Kirkwall. Turns out they saw Bodahn on their way into the Deep Roads to investigate and got a tip to keep an eye out for some lost members of the expedition (the whole leaving suddenly without them thing didn’t sit right with him).

Later on, in that mission where you run into Nate? Eleri’s with him, though doesn’t actually advertise herself as the warden-commander while chatting with Ash. Ash isn’t dumb, though, (not always, at least) and gets a feeling Eleri might be kinda more in charge than she was told. So when wardens start disappearing, she takes a chance and makes contact. It ultimately pays off when Eleri sends Rylee and Ise to help the Inquisition.

During the events of Here Lies the Abyss in Inquisition, it’s Rylee that stays behind to buy everyone time to escape. And, much like when Ise was taken from her clan, she has to be dragged out - this time by the Inquisitor herself (Olivia, for the record) - kicking, screaming, and utterly sobbing that they’re leaving her wife behind.

BUT because fuck canon, Rylee survives and kinda wanders around the raw Fade until she finds another open rift. This ends up dumping her into the ass end of Orlais somewhere and it takes her a while to make her way back to Skyhold, but dammit! She and Ise do get a happy ending. It does take a while though, it really does. And for that duration, Ise doesn’t leave Skyhold for anything after they get her back there. Resigned, more than anything, she usually perches on an empty wall away from the hustle and bustle of the main areas near the stables. She also doesn’t eat much, only what small bits that Cole brings her.

As for Eleri, she - along with Nate, Velanna, and Sigrun - are searching for the cure. And I really haven’t thought much beyond that.

MAN this got long, I hope you don’t mind! I had a lot of fun thinking about this and gushing a bit about my girls and what they do :D So thank you, again, for asking! One day, I think I plan to write something detailing their journey from start to finish in DAO and maybe beyond, but it’d probably be a series of drabbles? I struggle with long fics and flowing from one chapter to the next, but maybe.

#lagawara #taie replies #warden trio au #rylee tabris #eleri cousland #isethari mahariel #rylee hc #ise hc #eleri hc

[the-only-universe-here]

Tell me about ocs. Is now legal obligation

Okay I've rewritten this like three times because I want this to be a good and fun post for everyone and maybe try to not completely overwhelm this ask with the many... Many conflicting character thoughts I've been thinking about recently which spans across like 8/9 characters and like three universes because I'm a goddamn mESS.

So instead of all that I'm going to assign the class some reading which you can find here and here about my team KRML, which I'm always ready and interested in talking about, and tell you some about my fan apprentices for The Arcana.

Starting us off is the apprentice that I initially used for both Julian and Asra's routes, Verun Levvie. Before I started playing the Arcana I honestly didn't really have much for her - she was just a neat little self insert cameo in a couple of my stories.

Originally she ran a magic shop with the main intent to help people with their dreams. Her magic would basically snatch the memories of dreams out of their minds and she would craft dream catchers from threads that she basically infused with their dreams. Nightmares, good dreams, and anything else. If they had a recurring nightmare they wanted to get rid of, or if they wanted to keep the dream catcher and be able to re-live that memory... Yknow.

She's also a mess and she can't help but copy the tendencies of people around her. So if she's around a certain boisterous, flirty beanpole man? Oops now she's flirting back and where the hell did she get all this confidence?? Or if she's around her favorite magician boyfriend she'll end up following along with his shenanigans and getting into some sort of trouble with him. But on her own, she's just generally very quiet and very very introverted. Like, vampire hissing as the curtains are drawn back, don't touch me don't look at me unless you're one of my boys. Also yes, she's in a polyamorous relationship with Julian and Asra and I have custom background stories for the three of them that I will spare you from... Unless you really wanna hear about it.

5'7" of Verun to love her boys with... Also she has like. Honey-amber eyes is how I describe it in my writing? If I can pinpoint the exact color I'll show it when I can. But I'm infatuated with the color. Also I stole an hairstyle/hair color from my sister for her hair, so just think of like, red-orange-white fire-ish lookin hair. I don't know how to describe it without sharing photos of my sis but its cool and I'm absolutely too fuckin powerful in a universe where people can have purple-pinkish hair and red eyes.

Akaira is my second fan apprentice, and uh. Okay just an fyi but my fan apprentices all exist in their own universes so there's no messy storylines crossing.

Because Akaira ends up fucking all of the main male LI's except for Muriel, because the big forest man reminds her entirely too much of her sister and that would just be WEIRD. (He also probably hates Akaira so. There's that.) And that's all before the game actually starts. She's like, the barely-has-morals thot. A classic chaotic neutral rogue multiclassing as a ranger, if you know D&D. She has Looks™ and knows how to use them to get what she wants. And if someone isn't tempted or swayed by her flirting and beauty, she's handy with both knife and bow and has no qualms about spilling blood.

It should be no surprise to anyone that her main LI is Lucio, because honestly... She's kind of a gold digger and Lucio is also a barely-has-morals thot.

But! She does actually have backstory filled out, since I've had her character for years and years now. Her first memories are uh. Well, being shot with an arrow to the neck, which left her with her first scar. The man that shot her, thinking the rustling on the bushes of the forest to be an animal, took her to his home out in the middle of fuckin nowhere and added a new daughter to his household. So Akaira was given a name and she acquired two loving parents and a sister. Everything was fine for a while, but then her mother got sick and barely managed to hold onto life for years, until she passed away and everything turned to shit. Her father turned into an abusive asshole, driven mad with grief, and her sister became distant and harsh and just didn't really care about anything. Her and her sister had been taught from a young age how to fight in self defense, but at some point they started... "sparring". Sparring, but like, with just a little bit of blood. So from about the age of sixteen Akaira started gathering scars from her sister mostly, though her father left his fair share as well. (Akaira is always rather sensitive about being called a bitch...) But eventually, Akaira decided to forsake her father and the last name he had given her, so she left her home and got herself into some mercenary work, or whatever would sustain her, traveling around until she got to Vesuvia. Along the way she discovered her talent at manipulation and pickpocketing, which ended up with a lot of "free dinners" for herself 😉

She's also quietly self conscious about her scars, though outwardly she has no issue with flaunting them. The only times that you'll see her actually flinch when people talk about her scars is when she's already having a really, really bad day. Akaira is also like... Weirdly masochistic when it comes to continuing to spar with her sister. Even now she'll go adventure and meet up with her sister and ask to spar even when she knows she'll end up bleeding (sometimes a dangerous amount).

I'm pretty sure that she's also like. My most attractive character, at least out of my girls. Like, 5'4" of blonde loveliness. Long, gently curly hair, light blue eyes, thighs thick enough to kill a man. Makeup game is Stronk. She herself is able to throw her sister, and her sister is a 6'10 monster of a person, and she has the muscle mass to prove it.

Buuuut anyway, onto Aldafa Hylene. Who, surprise, is Akaira's sister! Ahahahaha. I swear she isn't as bad as she seems based on Akaira's side of the story. Like she is, but she isn't. She took her mother's loss really hard, as a child cut off from society would. And since, at that age, she was trained and able to take care of herself alone in the forest... She did. She would spend days or weeks alone in the wilderness, venting her anger and sadness to the things of the forest in whispers and twangs of her bowstring and angry howls back at the wolf packs. She found solace in the primal forces of nature, of fighting for her life with every action when she was alone, and when it came to Akaira welcoming chances to fight those wild instincts just... Continued on into it. So she'd leave cuts and bruises on her sister and then wrap her wounds with bandages and salves and other healing things. She'd also make sure her father left Akaira alone for the time she had to heal, though sometimes when she wasn't there he would aggravate Akaira into lashing out at him. (And if she knew the terribly grievous wounds that he left with his own blades by sight, Akaira didn't need to know. She could deny for a little longer.) No matter what she did, her father never lashed out at Aldafa, so she just kind of refused to believe that he was as horrible as Akaira seemed to believe. (Her sister's blood was on her own hands only, not his. She was responsible for it, she was so sorry for it.)

But eventually, she followed Akaira out of their home and found her own way to Vesuvia. She met Asra and yknow, she didn't mind him. Maybe a bit louder and more energetic than what she preferred, but she knew her tolerance for people was pretty unique. It probably took her like ten or twenty times of her meeting Muriel in the forest for him to decide that this new friend of Asra's was okay, so he gave her one of his little charms for her to remember him with... And after that she would go to him when she needed a break from the city. They're both very quiet, neither of them like people, and honestly having that sort of mutual thinking is perfect. And then it turned into Aldafa spending days with him... And then weeks. And then they just unofficially started living together.

Best thing? Aldafa is just as tall as Muriel, and while she's kind of a beanpole herself (yknow, 6'10 hooman) she's got some serious muscle to her, just like Akaira. Also she has no idea what a haircut is, she'll just take a couple inches off of her own hair with her hunting knife so her hair is short and patchy af but she gives exactly zero shits.

ANYWAY ITS GETTING ONTO 3AM BECAUSE I'M A DUMBASS BUT THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK AND LETTING ME RANT ABOUT THESE THREE I GOTTA GO BED NOW

#ask and i will answer #Akaira #Aldafa Hylene #Verun Levvie #fan apprentice #the arcana game #the arcana #apprentice Verun #apprentice Aldafa #apprentice Akaira #my ocs #My characters

[emjenenla]

Help me piece it all together, darling, before it falls apart: Clary [A Mortal Instruments Fanfic]

Clary | Jace

It was done, but that was different than saying it was finished. Or Clary and Jace post-CoHF.

Warnings: Discussion of the death of a child

Also posted on AO3 (username: Emjen_Enla) and ff.net (username: Emjen Enla)

I don't own TSC, all these books belong to Cassandra Clare. Title from "Quarter Past Midnight" by Bastille.

Theoretically, you could either read Clary's part first or Jace's. Since I had to post them in an order, I did it in the order I wrote them (Clary first and then Jace). This is Clary’s part.

Clary

Clary hates sleeping alone. She wakes up reaching across the bed for Simon but he’s not there. He will never be there again because he doesn’t remember her and never will again. She wants him back, her world feels off balance and wrong without him.

In the absence of Simon she wants Jace to come and share a bed with her but that is also not possible because she and Jace are sixteen and the parental figures of sixteen-year-olds generally do not allow their children to share beds with their significant others. Of course, Maryse is used to Jace and Isabelle’s escapades and doesn’t care what Clary and Jace do as long as it doesn’t involve getting eaten by demons. Jocelyn and Luke are the ones who made the rules that say that Jace can’t stay over at Luke’s and Clary can’t stay over at the Institute and a dozen more that she doesn’t bother to remember.

She can have other friends stay the night of course, so she has Isabelle or Maia over and sometimes both of them at once, but their companionship is not what she needs. Alec theoretically could stay over, but he’s living full-time with Magnus now and has a life of his own so Clary doesn’t even bother to ask. Anyway, she knows he’s not what she needs either.

She wants Jace. Or Simon. But one is impossible and the other she doesn’t get in all the ways she wants.

Instead she sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning and fighting her way through mazes of dark and terrible dreams. Valentine holds a dying Jace in his arms, Jocelyn lies in a coma, Luke is stabbed and soaked in blood, Sebastian bears down on her leering like a demon, Simon forgets her over and over and over again. In the morning she drags herself heavily out of bed and is out the door often before Jocelyn and Luke wake up.

She used to hate early morning training and complained constantly about it, but now it’s the only reason she bothers to get up. She lives for the crisp mornings when she, Jace and Isabelle run through their morning training and practice for the lives of blood and death their birthrights as Nephilim have forced onto them. Before, there had been a time when they would get all their training done and then have the rest of the day to themselves, but now they now have lessons too. Maryse finally got around to demanding a new tutor when Jocelyn threatened to send Clary back to mundane high school if the more academic portions of her education weren’t seen to.

The Clave sends Elijah Highsong, a soft-faced man in his early twenties who is bookish but a very bad teacher. He tries to take over their physical training for a grand total of one morning until first Jace and then Isabelle lay him out on the training room floor with their hands behind their backs. Clary might be able to take him too, if only because any compunctions she might have had about fighting dirty had died sometime after her evil brother was raised from the dead.

“He’s only here to get out of being sent on patrol,” Isabelle speculates one night while she, Clary and Jace are out for dinner with Alec and Magnus at some Italian place Magnus likes. “He’s young and able-bodied and with the numbers so down, he probably would have been assigned to another city as an active-duty Shadowhunter and have to actually--angel forbid--fight demons,” her voice drips with sarcasm. “As our tutor he’ll still have to patrol every once and a while but not anywhere near as often. He’s trying to avoid having to do the very job he’s training us for. Coward.”

Still whatever their theories about Elijah Highsong, Clary has to put up with the soul-crushingly boring academic lessons with him because she doesn’t think she could stand going back to her old high school and seeing Simon everyday without him knowing who she is. She is surprised when Jace and Isabelle put up with the lessons too in silent solidarity.

“It’s only until we turn eighteen,” Jace says when she asks him why. “Then we can all wash our hands of him.”

And so the days go by. Clary lives for days spent at the Institute with Jace and dreads the long nights spent alone.

One day in late January, Jocelyn and Luke plan to go out of town just the two of them. Magnus offers to have Clary spend the night at his and Alec’s so she doesn’t have to be alone. Clary starts to protest that she is not a child and does not need babysitting, but Magnus shoots her a look that clearly says to play along so she shuts up.

When Jocelyn and Luke drop Clary off at the apartment, just Magnus and Alec are in the living room petting Chairman Meow. Clary blushes her way through the long list of instructions Jocelyn prattles off feeling like she’s about five. She wants to point out that she saved the world not once but twice in the last year, but Magnus keeps looking at her in a way that clearly begs not to rock the boat.

Finally, Jocelyn and Luke are gone. Magnus peaks out the front window just to make sure then calls, “Alright you two, its safe to come out!”

Jace and Isabelle emerge from one of the spare bedrooms grinning like fiends. “When I heard your parental units were going to be out of town I thought it was the perfect time for a sleepover,” Magnus tells Clary and she throws her arms around him in thanks.

They have a nice evening full of games and pizza and movies. Everyone tries to ignore the Simon-shaped hole in their group, but no one quite manages it. When people finally start making noises about going to bed, Clary glances at Jace and she can tell that he is also contemplating just how long they’ll have to play at sleeping in separate bedrooms before they can sneak into the same bed together.

Magnus just looks at them. “I can see what you’re thinking. Go pick out a bedroom,” he says flicking his fingers at them. “I don’t care what you two do so long as Jocelyn doesn’t figure out about it. Okay?”

But they don’t actually end up doing much. They kiss for a while, but it quickly becomes obvious that neither of them is in the mood. Jace hasn’t been sleeping well either, so he’s as exhausted as she is. Eventually they just curl up together and try to sleep.

Clary wakes from a nightmare several hours later to Jace shaking her. “Nightmare?” he asks, the moonlight washing the color out of his hair and eyes. She nods slowly. “Me too,” he says. “Do you want to go for a run?”

And that’s how she and Jace end up going for a run through New York City at two in the morning. They let themselves out of the window in their room and climb down the side the building to the ground and then they just run. Technically, given that demons are active at night, this is pretty dangerous, but Clary has never felt more safe. She has a knife down her boot and her stele and a seraph blade hidden in her coat and Jace is probably better armed than she is. Anything that tries to hurt them it will be met with quite the surprise.

Eventually they end up somewhere in Brooklyn and Clary has to stop to catch her breath. Jace is barely winded but he’s the fastest Shadowhunter alive so that’s not surprising. Clary will probably never be able to match him in speed and endurance; she has her sights set on Isabelle and Alec instead.

She’s bent over, catching her breath when she hears a familiar laugh. She jerks up and looks around. They’re just outside of a movie theater that’s doing a late-night movie marathon. It must have just gotten out because people are pouring out onto the street. Amongst the crowd is a lanky boy with brown hair and glasses. Simon is laughing with Matt and Kirk and Eric and looking completely normal.

Clary isn’t breathing. This is not the first time she’s seen Simon since he gave away his memories in Edom, but this is the closest she’s been to him. She straightens up and waits for him to look her direction. He has to look at her. It’s Simon, even with memory loss he has to recognize her on some level. He has to.

Simon’s eyes pass right over her.

If she didn’t know better she would have thought that she and Jace were glamoured, but that’s not true. They put on no runes before leaving Magnus’s and the usual collection of girls and boys are definitely noticing Jace. She isn’t even important enough for Simon to notice her anymore.

She turns and runs. She runs for several blocks until the happy sounds of the mundane world that Simon has seamlessly slid back into have faded then she drops to the ground and cries. She’s glad that Simon is alive; she’d rather he was alive and didn’t remember her than for him to be dead, but it hurts. She doesn’t remember a world where Simon wasn’t right there next to her and she hates that this is the kind of world she lives in now.

A hand settles gently on her shoulder and Jace kneels down next to her. He’s so much faster than her that she knows the only reason she’s had these few minutes to break down alone is because he chose to let her have some time alone. He doesn’t say that everything will be okay or any of the other myriad platitudes she’s heard far too many of recently, he simply wraps his arms around her and holds her while she cries.

The sun is rising by the time they make it back to Magnus and Alec’s apartment. They’ve had maybe three hours of sleep between them and they’re both the sort of tired where you kind of want to melt into a puddle on the ground and never move again. They don’t bother climbing back in the window and instead pound on the front door until Magnus answers. He’s wearing a purple bathrobe and his alien slippers and looks at them with a strange, concerned, borderline parental expression that somehow makes him look his real age. “Shower and try to rest a little,” he finally says, stepping back to let them in. “We’re going to be making pancakes in a couple hours.”

Clary and Jace nod and head for the bathroom. They shower together, leaning numbly against each other while the hot water pours down on them. If any more tears are shed, no one needs to know.

#the shadowhunter chronicles #the mortal instruments #post-city of heavenly fire #fanfic #fanfiction #clary fairchild #jace herondale #clary x jace #clace #Emjen writes #cross-posted on ao3 #cross-posted on ff.net

[commonsensewizard]

American Jews Need to Take a Cue from Israelis

After World War II, the Jews that immigrated to Palestine were of a different nature than the ones before Nazism. They were mad as hell, and weren’t going to take it anymore. No longer would they be hustled into cattle cars and shipped to concentration camps, where then their belongings would be taken from them, stripped naked, hair shorn, and marched into gas chambers without so much as a whimper of resistance. The days of them being used as slave labor until they couldn’t stand, only then to be shot in the back of the head and thrown into a mass grave, were over. No, these Jews were adamant. They were going to survive by fighting back and fighting hard.

In this post, I want to be clear I am not blaming the Jews who were caught up in the synagogue shooting. The fault lies squarely with the idiot who did it. But, the events in Pittsburgh puzzle me. I am a regular church attendee. I will not go to a church that doesn’t have armed security. After the church massacre in Sutherland Springs, Texas, many churches in my state started providing such a thing. Those who cannot afford it, have specific members with licenses to carry firearms and are trained on their own dollar on how to respond to such an emergency. You don’t know who they are, but they are there. Any crazed wacko who comes into one of these churches had better be prepared to die, and that right quick. Now, for those of you who spout scripture back, like “Thou shalt not kill”, have no understanding. Jesus asked his disciples if they had any swords among them. In those days, a sword was their gun. It wasn’t used for peeling potatoes. They answered him that they had two. He didn’t say, “You scurrilous people! Beat them into plowshares!” No, he said, “That will be enough. For we live in perilous times.” As Christians, we are allowed to protect ourselves just as much as everyone else. We are especially allowed to protect ourselves when we are most vulnerable, like in a worship service. It is a shameful thing to murder anyone for any reason. It is a heroic thing to kill a would-be murderer before or during his or her rampage. 

With Jews being hated by so many on a global scale, it is not surprising that Israel remains strong and determined to survive. If someone hits them, they hit back three times as hard. Their attitude reminds me of Sean Connery’s character in the 1987 film, “The Untouchables”. One of the most iconic lines in the movie is where he tells Ness how to get Capone. Connery says, “He pulls a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue.” 

So why is it, with the Jews knowing they are so universally hated, and with them having most of the money in the world, do they not have armed security in their synagogues? It makes no sense in the times in which we all live, and especially with their history and current situation that is not likely to change anytime soon. It saddens me every time I hear of such senseless violence. But, it saddens me even more when people go about their everyday lives as if nothing bad can ever happen to them. It’s always going to happen to the other guy, not me. I am not a Jew, but even I am always making myself aware of my surroundings, even in church. I look around to see if anyone is acting a little more goofy than usual. When I am in a parking lot at a Wal-Mart or grocery store, or at the mall, my head is acting like a windshield wiper. I stay aware and cognizant of what is going on around me and who is going on around me.

One day several years ago my job assignment was to watch a load-out of equipment that was being shipped overseas on a freighter at the Port of Houston. There is not one port in this country that is safe. The fringes are ridden with criminal types of all kinds and colors. It took longer than expected and I wasn’t able to leave until late at night. I was low on gas and stopped at the first fuel station I could find. While filling up my car’s tank, I noticed a man watching me. Unknown to him, I had a .32 caliber, Beretta Tomcat semi-automatic pistol in a belt holster, situated in the small of my back, concealed by my leather jacket. After a couple of minutes, he starts walking toward me. When it became apparent he was actually approaching me, and about fifteen feet away, I said, “That’s close enough.” He continued to come toward me. It was then I reached back and grabbed the grip of the pistol. I didn’t pull it, but I was ready to. I repeated, louder, “That’s close enough!” When the man saw my action, he stopped in his tracks. Just the threat that I might be armed stopped him. He said, “I just want to ask you a question.” I replied, “Ask me from there, I can hear you.” Why should I have let him get close enough to grapple with me, or slide a blade between my ribs? I didn’t know him and had no idea what was in his mind. The next thing he said was, “F*** you!”, and then walked away. Charming. If I don’t know who you are, and you want to approach me, it will be on my terms, not yours.

American Jews need to start acting more like their Israeli cousins. Don’t be willing victims, for you are already targets. Arm yourself. Hire armed specialists to protect you. For we live in perilous times. Ask your people in America how many swords they have. If they say they have some, then tell them that is enough. Then, when some maniacal, hate-filled goober walks in spouting his hatred and starts aiming his weapon, shoot him down like the dirty dog he is. Let God sort him out. 

#Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations #Israel #politics #us politics #u.s. politics #united states politics #Pittsburgh Synagogue Massacre #government #us government #u.s. government #united states government #liberal #liberals #liberalism #left wing #far left wing #radical left wing #racist #racists #racism #democrat #democrats #democratic party #democratic socialism #socialism #socialists #conservative #conservatives #conservatism #nazism

[ceechalla]

The Sims 4

At the time of writing this, a Sims 4 announcement will be revealed later on. Most, if not all Simmers, are hoping it will be the announcement of The Sims 4 Seasons Expansion Pack.

I've been a simmer from the birth of The Sims. I was there, held it in my arms & have grown up along side it, celebrating each birthday aka iteration of the franchise. I feel The Sims 4 has aged up badly from The Sims 3 due to poor parenting. (Remember when that was a thing?)

The Sims 4 is like a fine looking human with little to offer other than eye candy. Within the 1st week of launch, I felt the game wasn't finished. Fast forward to now & I still feel the same. Stuff Packs, Game Packs & Expansion Packs just momentarily distract from the fact that the game is weak from the core.

A.I.

I made a post about the whole 'Smarter Sims' dream we were sold from the start and how, in reality, the A.I. is a nightmare. Sims prioritise the wrong Needs, always have to multi-task and rarely make logical decisions. This is why I play with autonomy off. I asked if Simmers play with it on or off & 98% plays with it on. I take my hat off to you & your patience. I tried earlier & was playing with the Kim-Lewis household. I got Alice a job & you know what she did when she got home? Nothing. She stood outside the house like a blade of grass, smiling cheerfully whilst her Needs depleted. I go into more detail about the A.I. in my 'Smarter Sims' post/rant.

Interactions

Rinse and repeat. Slap on a different name, use the same animations and call it a day. For example, give a Sim the Unflirty trait. Have that Sim perform a Romantic interaction. See the names given to those interactions? They're called lies. Your Sim Angry huh? Have it go take an Angry poop. Looks no different to any other poop does it? What did it do for your Sim? What did it do for your gameplay? Nothing. One of my pet peeves is 'idle chat'. It basically sums up The Sims 4. Visually pleasing but has no real meaning. Have Sim 1, tell Sim 2 how it's mum looks like a Llama & see how Sim 2 reacts. During the interaction they may react negatively, but in comes 'idle chat' and they smiling and bobbing their heads as if the previous interaction never happened.

Interactions between Sims is lacking in general. Remember when Sims could play games like Red Hands? Children Sims could play tag? Or how Sims would spoon during sleepy time? Ah, the good ol' days.

Features

Whims. Sims wanting to own a 1x1 pool. That isn't a pool boy, that's a tile! When the Vampire Gamepack was released, every Sim and their culled family tree wanted to research about them. The Whim system is whack. This bothers me alot because my favourite save ever with this franchise was my Sims 3 Wishacy Challenge save. That challenge changed the way I played the game. I played with Free Will on, wasn't allowed to micromanage my Sim unless it was to complete a promised Wish. My Sims had personality because traits actually meant something in the game and they were smarter. It was like I was playing through a story my Sim created through their Wishes, not through mine. I can't do that now. Personally I think TS2 Wants and Fears system is the best. We needs it back.

An attraction system. Why we don't have this, only Morgan Freeman knows. I like the Turn On and Turn Off system TS2 had. Throw in Zodiac signs so that compatible ones gain relationship faster and not so compatible ones struggle.

I should have known the game wasn’t gonna be great when they had to PATCH IN FAMILY TREES FOR A LIFE SIMULATION GAME! They are also the worst in the franchise. Have you checked the Achievements tab? Have a 26 generation legacy etc. How long before your founder gets culled? 

In-laws? what’s that?!

City Living has assignments wanting you to get to know your co-workers but we have no co-worker tab in the relationship panel. 

Not only that, but toddlers and pools weren’t available from the start. Didn’t get a games console item till how many years after release? Not even a remote car or plane. No train set or ball to play catch. Still we have no Bunk beds, but icons for them are in the game. Should have come with the Base Game, should be patched in, hell, could have featured in Kids Bedroom Stuff or Parenthood! Same goes for alarms. What is the point in the smoke alarm in this game?

Traits

What's the point. Sims are run by the Emotion System. Traits mostly only offer different buffs that don't really do anything anyway.

You know what it is? This game is just too predictable. I think The Story Progression mod I used in The Sims 3 has spoiled me. Things seem so static in The Sims 4 unlessed forced. That's okay if you like, but I'd like choice. Like we did in The Sims 3 with Free Will. I'd like a low level of autonomy which has my Sims only perform interactions to fill needs that give off a negative moodlet or has a red bar.

I know I've spent the majority of this rant complaining, but The Sims 4 does have some play value, hence why I make posts.

It's nice to look at...

Oh, Build mode CAS and The Gallery are awesome!

Thanks for reading and happy simming!

#the sims 4 #ts4 #rant

[codynaomiswireart]

“Gauze in the Wound” - Part 9

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8

And the stakes continue to rise...

Man was this chapter a roller coaster of emotions to write!  I’m exhausted.

“Is everything in place?” the male spy asked as he and his sister huddled among the group of hooded figures in the shadows of a back alleyway.  The growing moonlight glistened off the silver of the bracers and pendants that bore the mark of their rebel faction as they all whispered together in earnest.

“Yessir,” a gravely voice answered back.  “All of our agents know the plan, and our informant as graciously provided us with transport.  The other vessels will be disabled upon your signal.”

“Excellent!”

“Is the weapon almost completed?” another woman in the group asked.

“They are just beginning the final stages of it now,” the lady spy replied.  “In fact, we should get back to our post now if we’re going to witness the grand finale, eh brother?”

“Indeed sister,” her twin replied.  “Fear not everyone!  Very soon, our goals will be more within our reach than ever before, and we shall bring a great prize back to our commander!  For Saporia!”

“For Saporia!” they all cheered in tandem, though continuing to keep their voices low, as they all brought a right fist over their hearts in hearty salute before scattering to their assigned posts.

“Oh, this is all so exciting isn’t it!?” the lady spy couldn’t help but whisper in glee over her shoulder to her brother as they took their positions to watch the final testing of the newly crafted blade.  “Finally!  The key to Saporia’s success lies within our grasp!”

“Patience sister,” her brother replied, though also allowing a small smile himself at the idea of having such a great advantage over Corona’s weaponry.  “We do not yet know if the blade will be a success or not.  While I have little doubt that whatever blade that comes of this will indeed be great, we do not yet know if it’ll hold up to what the legends tell of it.”

“Pfft!  You’re such a party pooper!” his sister hissed back as she settled into a more comfortable position from which to watch the blacksmith and alchemist finish their work, and also to fished out a couple of bimberry butternuts from the sack sitting at her side.

“Hey, you want one?” she asked her brother through a mouthful of the stuff.

“Yes please,” he replied, and both of them took eager bites of the doughy goodness, and hungrily waited like wolves in a pack waiting for their prey and prize to be ready for the taking.

Varian took a few shaky breaths as Xavier made ready to dunk the blade into the final cycle of quenching oil, the boy’s mind going vividly to how in his nightmare it had been during this final stage of the process that it all gone wrong.

What if he had made a mistake and it ended up coming true?  Or even if not that outcome exactly, what if something else just as bad ended up happening?  What if the chemicals were all right but the sword itself ended up cracking and they had to start all over?  What if some random clumsiness were to happen and the vat fell over and spilled everywhere?  What if-?

But Varian’s troubled thoughts were cut off as he felt one of Ruddiger’s paws gently pat his cheek, and Varian turned his face to the loyal companion perched on his shoulder.  After giving Ruddiger an affectionate nuzzle with his cheek, Varian gently brought him round so that he held him cradled in his arms, and Ruddiger leaned himself reassuringly into the boy’s chest.

“Don’t worry Varian!” Ruddiger attempted to convey as he tread his paws gently into Varian’s arm.  “This will all turn out right.  I know it will!  You’ve both worked so hard.  It’ll be great!  You’ll see!  This will be a blade everyone will be proud of!”

With a solemn nod, Xavier finally determined that the blade was to temperature, and with great care, the old blacksmith picked it up firmly out of the furnace with a set of tongs – a bright blue glow emanating throughout the hewn metal as he did so – and slowly dunked it into the quenching tank nearby that had been filled with one of the compounds Varian had made the previous day.  Varian screwed his eyes tightly shut as he listened hard for any bad or unusual sounds coming from the blade or the tank, holding his breath as he heard the usual hissings and blubblings that accompanied a good quench, and strained to hear past the sound of his own heart beating hard in his ears for any dreaded “pings” or “crishing” noises that would indicate disaster.

After a moment, Varian peeked one eye open, then the next, and hugged Ruddiger a little closer as he, Xavier, and the guards all waited with baited breath for whether or not the final quench would be successful.  As the moments ticked by, Varian felt they were quite possibly the longest ever in his life.  Finally, after taking his own deep sigh, Xavier pulled the blade back out of the quenching oil, and everyone marveled as bluebell flames danced across its surface as it made contact with the air (though not large enough to be in danger of burning anyone or anything, and certainly nothing close to an explosion).  As Xavier blew out the last few flames that fluttered along its surface, the blade cooled and became a deep ebony color, with a sheen that revealed a crisscrossing pattern of lighter blues and indigos underneath – very much like one of the black rocks themselves!

Though no one present had ever seen one before, they all knew just from looking at it, that this was indeed a great sword of legend come back from the past.

They had created a Demanitus steel blade!

“We have done it,” Xavier breathed out in relief as he set the blade to cool, and Varian too let out his own long shaky breath as the guards cheered around them.  Before Varian could even register it happening, he felt the guards begin to clap him on the back and give him cheers of congratulations as Ruddiger squeed with joy and nudged his head into Varian’s chin happily.  Varian couldn’t help but join in himself, not being able to hold back his own joyful, huffing laughter as tensions began to ease, and for once he didn’t feel the need to question why those whom he had long considered his enemies were here in this moment happy for him.  Especially after Xavier gave him such a proud look from across the way, any such questions could definitely wait.

“That sounds promising!” the lady spy said as they listened to the cheers rise up from the forge.

“Promising, yes,” her brother commented.  “But they still have to test the blade.  It won’t do them much good if it can’t actually hold up to one of the black rocks.”

“Well, I sure hope it does,” his sister said.  “It would be a real disappointment if this all turns out to be a wash.”

“Aye,” he replied, and the both of them watched keenly through their telescopes as those inside the forge prepared for the blade’s final assembly, and the sample piece of black rock was put into place for the steel’s testing.

Varian remembered what it had been like when he had gone sledding for the very first time as a little boy in the hills near Old Corona.  The world had sped by so fast then, and he remembered the distinct feeling of his insides rising up and down as he rode the rises and slopes of each snow-covered hillside.  He was experiencing some similar feelings now, though not nearly so pleasant.  The brief rise he’d felt with successfully completing such a fine blade with Xavier was now on a downward slope as he thought about what was to come next.  The world was speeding by in a blur again, and it was making him feel both incredibly excited and also incredibly doubtful.  Either he would be riding another high rise in a few moments, or he would find himself plunging down another steep slope that led he knew not where.

…He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could handle…

Varian swallowed hard as he watched Xavier uncork the vial of the glowing green compound Varian had made earlier that day.  It had been bitter work making the dreaded substance for the third time, but it had been necessary for the test.  Before heading out to Old Corona, they had to find out if the blade could indeed cut through the amber to begin with.  Of course, the guards didn’t trust Varian to be the one to pour the mixture, and, quite honestly, Varian rather felt an aversion to the stuff himself.  So it had been agreed that Xavier would be the one to do it.  Very carefully, the old blacksmith uncorked the vial Varian had prepared, and steadily tilted it to allow one drop to fall onto the black rock sample that had been brought to the forge earlier that evening.

Varian winced hard as he heard the horribly familiar sound of the amber crystals springing up from where the drop had fallen on the sample, he felt he was nearly going to be sick as it conjured up all the painful memories associated with the stuff, and he felt himself take a small step backward as a small jagged pillar of the crystals extended their way outward in their usual hungry-looking way.  If Varian didn’t know better, he would’ve thought that the crystals seemed almost sentient in their behavior – as if seeking out a source of life to cling to and to feed on.

The Captain looked down uneasily as Varian brought his arms around his middle, as if he were fighting off a wave of nausea.  The Captain couldn’t help but place a steadying hand on Varian’s back, feeling the alchemist take a few shaky deep breaths in and out in response.  “Hang in there kid,” the Captain thought to himself.  “It’s almost over.”

Finally, after a couple moments, the amber crystals stopped growing, and once it was deemed safe to get closer, everyone gathered round nearby as Xavier withdrew their newly created blade from its dark leather sheath.  It was indeed a beautiful weapon, and glinted a distinct light blue as Xavier weighed it in his grip, and made ready to strike at the amber and the black rock it had came from.  Ruddiger quickly scurried his way up into Varian’s arms to have a better look, and Varian hugged him hard to his chest as he bit into his bottom lip, waiting for Xavier to make the first strike.

But before he did so, Xavier paused, thoughtful for a moment, then turned to the Captain and asked him, “Captain, with your permission sir, would you allow Varian to be the one to do the honors if he wants to?”

Varian started, feeling his heart begin to race again as he looked up at the Captain who also bore an expression of equal surprise.  A silent exchange of wordless expressions passed between the Captain and the blacksmith, as if the Captain were somehow saying, “You do realize you’re really pushing protocol here Xavier!”  And Xavier replying, “Yes, I am well aware of that.  But this is important.”

Finally, with a small grumble from his throat, the Captain turned to Varian and said, “I can allow it on two conditions kid.  One, you wear handcuffs for the job.  And two, you get one strike and that’s it.  It’s your call.  What do you want to do?”

Varian blinked up at the Captain a few times, processing his words before looking back down at the ground, thinking hard.  A part of Varian wanted to turn down the offer immediately (this was all becoming a bit too much for his nerves), but another part of him had wanted so badly to wield that sword since he’d seen its completed form – as if it were calling to him; made for him.  Ruddiger looked up at Varian from where he was still held in his arms, and gently nudged himself against Varian’s chest, a few soft chittering noises sounding from him as he did so.

Then, out of the corner of his vision, Varian saw the pommel of the sword coming into view.  Turning towards it, Varian looked up to see Xavier holding the sword by the sheath, and extending its handle out to Varian.  Xavier nodded in reassurance as their eyes met.

“But…what if it doesn’t work!?” Varian’s eyes pleaded in return.

“Then we’ll figure out something else,” Xavier seemed to say back in his countenance.  “And we’ll keep trying.  Let’s not let fear stop us.”

Turning his attention back to the sword, Varian took a deep breath, and furrowed his brow hard as his mind was made up.

“I’ll do it,” Varian said, keeping his eyes on the sword the whole time as the Captain nodded, and Ruddiger scurried over to climb up onto Xavier’s shoulder as the Captain clamped the cuffs around Varian’s wrists, and Varian reached to pull the sword from its sheath.

Though it was a one-handed sword, Varian made to grip it with two.  If he was to only get one try, he was going to use all of his strength for it and make it count.  Varian braced himself, willing his arms to stop trembling as he set the sword to aim at the best angle from which to strike the gold and black mass that sat before him.  At last, Varian couldn’t bear the suspense any longer, and everyone stood back as he made to bring back the sword and ready his swing.

“This is for you Dad!” Varian thought with all his heart, and with a great cry, he swung the blade down and around at his target.

“SHLANG!...THUD”

There was a whole two seconds of silence as everyone watched the top half of the crystalline mass slide its way down the diagonal cut Varian had made in the structure, and fall to the floor of the forge with a heavy thud.  Then, after the shock had subsided at just seeing a sword cut through rock like a knife through butter, a whole chorus of cheers broke out again as they witnessed the impossible happen before their eyes.  The Captain then made to immediately take the sword back before Varian could swipe at anything else with it…but this was unnecessary.  For by now, Varian had dropped the sword to his side on the ground, had fallen to his knees, and buried his face in his hands as he openly cried with joy and relief, Ruddiger immediately at his side nuzzling into him and giving him raccoon kisses on the sides of his face as he did so.  While Varian may still have had the chains and cuffs around his wrists, he hardly felt them as he felt an even greater chain fall from around his heart.

“We did it!” his mind said over and over again, making sure he really believed it as it all sunk in.  “We did it!  We did it!  WE DID IT!”

Varian again felt congratulatory hands on his shoulders and pats on the back as he continued to weep, and the familiar embrace of his mentor as he buried his face in Xavier’s shoulder, his mind turning briefly back to the first time this had happened between them.  Would he have ever believed things would’ve gone from that to this back then?

“We did it!  We did it!...”

“Whoa-ho, did you see that!?” the lady spy exclaimed to her brother as the two of them brought their eyes away from their spyglasses.

“Indeed dear sister!” said he.

“We’re ready to make our move then?” his sister asked in haste as she made to grab the small lamp that she had with her, striking a match to light the candle inside of it.

“Aye!” her brother said, reaching into their pack as his sister signaled the others, knowing their message had been received as a lit lantern answered in the distance.  “It’s time to gear up!  We’ll be moving in within the hour!”

“We did it!” Varian huffed out for the hundredth time that evening as he lay on one of the deerskin rugs in the inner room of the forge, staring up in the ceiling in disbelief as he stroked Ruddiger’s fur, who lay contentedly on his chest.  “We did it Ruddiger!...”

After the test with the Demanitus steel sword had been successful, it had been agreed that Varian would be escorted to Old Corona at first light to see if he could use the new blade to cut the amber there and free his father.  Of course Varian had wanted to go there immediately, but it would be a couple of hours before the Captain would have everything ready here in the capital for the time of his absence (for he would be going with them), and it had been pointed out that it would be unwise for them to travel by night.  Varian hated having to wait even a moment longer, but there was no helping it.  Xavier had advised that Varian try getting a few hours’ sleep before they were ready to move on, but of course Varian was having a hard time succumbing to sleep as his mind continued to race a million miles an hour, despite how exhausted he was physically and emotionally.

Varian also tried his hardest to keep his mind in the present moment, for while the test had been an incredible success, they weren’t out of the woods yet either.  What if the amber at his home was somehow more durable than the one they had tested on here?  What if they did break it open only to find after all this time that…that Dad was…?

Ruddiger again sensed Varian’s thoughts wandering to darker places, and proceeded to stroke a comforting forepaw across Varian’s face to get his attention back.  Varian smiled at him gratefully, and hugged the little creature closer to himself as he rolled over onto his side and curled himself around his friend.  “Thanks bud,” Varian murmured into Ruddiger’s fur as he attempted again to close his eyes and get some sleep, listening to the sounds of Xavier tidying up things in the furnace room, and the occasional creak of Stan’s armor as the guard had been left to watch over Varian while everyone else made to get everything ready for their travels in the morning.

For once, everything seemed to be looking up for Varian, and he couldn’t wait until tomorrow!

Some time later, Varian found himself stirring from a light doze as Ruddiger pawed at him earnestly, and chattering to him in rushed noises.

“Mmph, not now Ruddiger,” Varian mumbled, trying to get his friend to settle back down.  “We need to sleep if we’re going to-”

But now Varian began to hear that something wasn’t quite right.  His eyes snapped wider awake as Varian heard the sound of urgent adult voices coming the neighboring room, and he cautiously began to get up and make his way towards the door as he recognized the voices of Xavier and Stan among them-

“Wait!” Varian suddenly thought.  “Why would Stan leave his post beside him if he-?”

Suddenly, just as Varian peeked his way round the corner into the next room, he heard a small but distinct “twang” and “swish” sound, and then froze as the guard in question let out a soft gasp fore he fell hard to the floor of the forge, unconscious.  As Stan fell, Varian saw a strange hooded figure posed with its arm pointed in the direction where Stan had once been standing, and a miniaturized crossbow gadget was strapped smartly to the top of their wrist.  Varian’s eyes widened as he saw at least half a dozen other such figures also crowded into the forge, and Xavier stood before them with his hands in the air.

“Now, we’ll ask you one last time,” a masculine voice snapped from behind his dark mask.  “Hand over the sword, the notes, and the kid, and no one else has to get hurt.”

Varian’s blood ran cold as he heard those words.  What was happening?  Who were these people?  Surely this must all be some sort of bad dream that he would wake up from any second.  He would wake up, and they would all be ready to go to Old Corona and free his father.  Yes, that was the best explanation, right?

“NOW!” the man snapped again.  By now, Xavier had noticed Varian’s presence at the door, and gave a glance at the boy over his shoulder as Varian looked back at him with frightened, confused eyes.  Xavier gave a diligent blink in his direction, Varian somehow understanding that as his signal for him to be at the ready.  Ready for what Varian wasn’t sure, but he blinked in return, and Xavier turned to address the hooded intruders.

“A-all right,” Xavier stammered, moving as if to comply with their demands.  “It’s-it’s over here.  Just let me-”

Before any of the dark-cloaked figures could react, Xavier suddenly threw himself forward, sending one of the worktables of the forge flipping over towards the whole line of them.  Varian started back and cringed as four of them became pinned underneath the planks of solid oak, and the others leapt to the side to get out of the way.  As quickly as he could, Xavier grabbed for the Demanitus steel sword, and quickly shoved Varian back through the door to the inner room of the forge, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

“Quick Varian!” Xavier yelled.  “You have to get out of here!”

“But wh-what’s happening!?” Varian cried as Xavier scooped up the notes on Demanitus steel (which he had arranged into a large booklet on the drafting table), and grabbed Varian, dragging him out into the alleyway outside where he began to strap the sword across Varian’s back.  “Who are those guys!?  Why did they-?”

“Varian, listen to me!” Xavier interrupted him, shoving the notes into Varian’s arms once the sword was buckled securely around him, and held Varian by the shoulders as he made eye contact with the young alchemist.  “You need to get out of here!  Take the sword, the notes, and Ruddiger and get to the Captain!  He should be at the castle!  Do NOT stop for anyone or anything until you get there!  Do you understand!?”

Varian just stood there, blinking dumbfounded at his mentor as his mind struggled to process what was happening.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND VARIAN!?” Xavier asked again, nearly shouting and shaking Varian a little to regain his attention.  Varian gave a small, frightened nod in response, and found Xavier moving to shove him up and over one of the wooden fences that blocked either side of the alleyway as they heard the doors to the forge behind them begin to give way as the intruders bashed their way through them.

“Wait!  Wh- what about you!?” Varian quickly asked as it suddenly hit him that Xavier said nothing about him coming with him!  Xavier simply smiled in return, and said, “Don’t worry about me Varian!  Just get yourself to safety, and…say hi to your father for me when you see him.  Now GO!”  And before Varian could give any more words of protest, Xavier had lifted and pushed him over the fence, and Varian fell to the other side in a heap.

“NO!” Varian wanted to shout.  “NO!  We have a Demanitus sword!  We can take ‘em!  Let’s just-”

But at that moment, Varian realized Xavier’s reluctance to engage in any fight.  On its own, a sword could do little to protect one against a troop of archers.  Varian had no idea how many there must’ve been, but there were enough that even with a half dozen of them still in the forge at this moment, Varian had to duck to avoid at least three other arrows that flew towards him out of the shadows nearby.

Quickly gathering up the notes in his arms, and feeling the weight of the sword on his back, Varian made a break for it, and Ruddiger ran along at his heels as they dashed towards the castle.  Varian could hear shouts and heard the swishing of more arrows as he ran along, but he dared not try to figure out where either was coming from.  He had to keep running!  Xavier told him to!  Xavier-!

Varian found himself faltering in his stride as two things happened at once.  One was that he was suddenly stricken by the fact that Xavier had been left behind, and this was nearly enough to make him turn right back around and go back.  But the second thing that happened made it clear that to do so would not do any good.  For at that moment, a series of booming noises sounded around the capital, and several fires began to break out in several of the districts.  Varian found himself stopping and staring in horror as he began to hear the scared shouts of some of the townsfolk, and saw flames and smoke begin to claw at the sky around him.

What was happening!?

“Aaah!” Varian suddenly yelped as he felt his arm get grasped from behind, nearly causing him to drop the notes Xavier had entrusted to him.

“And where do you think you’re going?” a man’s voice asked from behind him.

Varian struggled to wrest himself out of the man’s grip, but it was no use.  Had another moment been allowed to pass, Varian was sure he would’ve been knocked out (either by a blow to the head or from a drugged dart), had it not been for Ruddiger who immediately flung himself at the attacker, and began clawing and biting at the man’s shoulders and face.

“Aaah!” the man shouted in a panic, letting go of Varian as he tried to throw off the infuriated raccoon that swiped and bit at wherever he could land a hit on.  Quickly, Varian stuck out one of his legs as the man flailed about in confusion, causing him to trip and fall flat on his back, winding him as he lay writhing on the ground.  Right after that, Varian and Ruddiger were sprinting towards the castle again, though they soon found that they didn’t have to run all the way there before they met up with the Captain.

Already the Coronean soldiers were rushing into the city to help put out the fires, and as he got closer to the palace square, Varian saw more and more of them, and finally came upon the Captain who was shouting out orders with Pete and several others close by.

“CAPTAIN!” Varian called out to him, stopping again only after he had come right up in front of him.

“What is it Varian?” the Captain asked hurriedly.  “What are you-?”

“The forge!” Varian said between gasps for air.  “An attack!  Stan’s down!  Xavier’s still there!  Hurry!”

“Pete!” the Captain called.  “Make sure Varian gets back to the castle!  Rupert, James, Jed, you’re with me!  Let’s go men!”

And just like that, the men were off, and Varian was brought back to the castle by a very worried-looking Pete, and only after the doors to the palace were locked behind them did Varian collapse down onto the floor, utterly spent, and also worried sick about what report would be brought back from the forge.

“Xavier…”

It was a few hours later when the Captain and a handful of other soldiers returned to the palace.  Along with them, an injured by very alive Stan also returned, having been hit with a knockout dart that was still taking its time to wear off.  Varian could tell that Pete was extremely relieved that his best friend was not dead, and Varian had to admit, he was relieved that Stan was alive, too.

As Stan was being sent to the infirmary wing, Varian, Pete, the Captain, and a few others were on their way to where an emergency meeting with the king was to be happening.  By now, the Demanitus steel sword and the notes had been taken to the Captain’s office where they would be kept under lock and key for the time being, and Varian had been put into handcuffs once again.  As they made their way to the conference room for this emergency meeting, Varian finally couldn’t bear it any longer, and finally asked the Captain, “Captain, please!  What…what about Xavier?  Where is he!?  Is he all right!?”

Here the Captain paused, his eyes turning very grave as he answered, “We don’t know Varian.  There was no sign of him by the time we made it to the forge, though it looked like there had been a great struggle.  Varian…It looks as if Xavier’s been taken.”

#tts #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #fan fiction #gauze in the wound #varian #xavier the blacksmith #captain of the guard #stan the guard #pete the guard #ruddiger #rudiger #the separatists of saporia